#seriously why all the stage whispering

[gunpowdercarousel]

Larian: *Introduces a way that the companions can secretly communicate with you in front of people without needing to verbalize it by telepathically speaking directly into your mind.*

Half the companions anyway: YO this guy a BITCH, let's FUCKIN KILL HIM

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex WC:2.2K

A/N: Why not? Enjoy!

"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.

He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.

His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.

His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.

It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.

Or was it?

He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.

Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.

He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.

He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.

Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.

But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.

You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.

The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.

"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.

With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.

"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.

"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.

"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.

It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.

Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.

And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.

Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.

But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.

The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.

Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.

Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.

You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.

Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.

Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.

"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."

You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.

"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.

He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.

And then you tell him the rest.

"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.

But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.

Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.

This was it. The crux of last night's argument.

You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.

When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.

Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.

You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"

It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.

"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.

You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."

He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.

With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.

"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."

[c0ffeejelly1]

You can’t just say things like that!..

-Bros the type of guy to hug you from behind and whisper that one soft sorry in your ear (ESPECIALLY WITH THE WHOLE ‘sorry baby..’ AGRHHH)

Cw: none.

* You were really ticked off at him.

* You knew he was fully aware of his mistake, so why was he pretending he didn’t have a clue?

* His attempt to play innocent just made you even angrier. He was clearly in the wrong.. he had to have been aware of that.

* And to think he had the audacity, the nerve to lounge on the couch with that sour expression, eyebrows knitted together, staring off like he was the one suffering? Ha!

* It just made you chop the vegetables you were going to cook even harder with the knife.

* It was pathetic. You could only think to laugh mockingly at the scene.

* …Seriously. was this his way of trying to gaslight you?

* As if that was going to work.

* You were way above that.

* You knew better than that.

* That was until you heard the creaking of floorboards and soft footsteps behind you.

* It was funny how he could seem so small despite his size…

* But still you totally played it cool and ignored him.

* Until you felt the soft embrace of arms wrapping around your waist, his chin sat in the crest between your neck and shoulder, and slow breathes tickling your ear each time his chest would rise and fall.

* For a brief moment, you felt a wave of tension wash over you, but you quickly shook it off, determined to seem unfazed.

* You were meant to be upset with him.

* …Yet, the way he held you so tenderly, as if you were his most treasured possession, made you want to both punch and kiss that infuriating face of his.

* You feel him sigh deeply his nose brushing against your shoulder before pressing light kisses to the skin.

* Was he trying to seduce you?

* Didn’t he realize how angry you were? You were practically seething!.. right? At least you think you were.

* once again though, you found yourself tensing when he whispered something that could make any woman weak in the knees..

* “..I’m sorry baby..”

* Lord have mercy.

* You turned to face him, finally getting a clear view of his face, causing him to pull his hands away from your waist and shove them into his sweatpants pockets.

* You couldn’t help but gulp a little at the adorable, puppy-like look he had; it really suited his handsome features…

* But you had to keep your cool.

* So, you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes before asking…

* “Sorry for what exactly?…”

* You wanted to hear him say it.

* Otherwise what was the purpose of even apologising?

* He only looked at you with a small pout on his face before placing both his hands gently on your cheek, a new sense of determination shining in his eyes even with his now flustered face.

* “What are you-..”

* He unexpectedly cut you off, catching you by surprise as his lips met yours

* You didn’t know how to react at first, but it was clear that the kiss was short because once he pulled back, the significance of the moment hit you.

* He gently brushed your lips, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a dusty pink scattered on his cheeks, before he spoke again.

* “..Everything..? I dunno…please just forgive me…”

* At this stage, did it even matter?

* If you were going to be honest with yourself, you had already moved on…

* Yet, watching him be all sweet and eager for your forgiveness? …It totally tugged at your heartstrings.

* A small grin appeared on your face before you leaned in for another kiss, the warmth of the moment enveloping you like a soft blanket.

* You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his, searching for the same warmth reflected in his gaze.

* “If I’m being honest...I’m not really mad at you anymore.”

* The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, mirroring your own, as you felt another flutter in your chest before he wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your fragrance, pulling you into another embrace.

* He felt a wave of relief knowing you had forgiven him..

* Still, one thought kept nagging at him.

* “Hey..babe?”

* “Mm?”

* “So…why were you really angry to begin with?”

* “You mean you really don’t know?”

* You lean back a bit from the hug a small pout on your face, your hands resting on his chest while his arms stayed snug around your waist.

* “You ate the remaining takeout I was saving for myself..”

* “..seriously.”

Characters I had in mind while writing this:

REIGEN (mob psycho 100)

Saitama (one punch man)

Josuke (JOJO’S bizarre adventure)

Kagami, KISE (kuroko’s basketball)

AREN (the disastrous life of saiki k)

HINATA, BOKUTO, Kageyama, OIKAWA, Ukai, Dachi, Atsumu, Lev (haikyuu)

YUJI, choso (jujustu kaisen)

REINER, Eren, Jean (Attack on titan)

LEORIO (hunterXhunter)

- any character you would like

[fandomwritingbit]

💀Hallowe'en Special💀

After Hours,

Springtrap x fem reader

Synop: Sneaking into a horror attraction after dark was really fucking stupid and you're about to find out just how much. 

A/n: I totally get that this probably isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please be warned, also bare in mind writing for Springtrap is completely new for me.

Warnings: Springtrap/william afton. Explicit non-con/rape. Violence. Threat. Themes of kidnapping.

Credit to image creator.

It was everything you expected and more.

The building reeked of lack of care, practically falling apart with all its paint peeling and the half illuminated sign. It looks creepy as fuck. That's why you came. 

You love to be scared. And this place has the potential to be truly terrifying. 

You spoke to a friend of yours who told you they'd done exactly this a week or so ago. And it was soooo much better after hours, when you can go where you want to and do what you want to; which in your case is dick around with the animatronics. They were supposed to come along as well but flaked out last minute, leaving you standing in front of the place on your lonesome. But you’re not one to be defeated by a shit friend not showing, so you’re still going to go in.

And so, with your phone torch lighting your way you go to the back of the building. And unsurprisingly you're greeted with a high fence with its gate chained closed. That isn't going to stop you though. Smirking, you throw your backpack over the fence and then slide your phone under it, torch up so you can sort of see what you're doing. 

One foot wedges in the metal, the toe of your shoe just able to fit through the diamond-shaped gap enough to give you purchase, letting you slot your other foot in the gap a little higher up. It was easy really, almost like they wanted you to hop over it, no anti-climb or spikes or anything. At the top of the fence you sit for a moment, wishing you kept hold of your phone for a photo here, illuminated by the solitary light of the building sign. Oh well, there's always the opportunity on the way out. 

You jump down, careful to land with bended knees, if you hurt yourself you wouldn’t exactly be able to call an ambulance. From there you dust yourself off for a minute and grab all your stuff, wincing when the harsh light of your phone catches your eye. 

"And now the fun begins." You whisper to yourself, as you slip around the building, quickly laying your eyes on the back door, which according to your mate was easy pickings, quite literally. Shoving your makeshift kit into the lock, it only takes a few moments of jiggling in before, hey presto, the bitch clicks open. It really was too easy. 

Inside, you flash your torch around this hallway, thinking to yourself that it looks like a 'back-stage' area with all the clutter and, god, the dust, which now flitted through the air disturbed by your movement. Honestly, with the amount of it caked on everything you wouldn’t think that this place was operational. Box after box lay on the chequered tile floor and you follow them down the corridor, checking door handles along your way. 

One opens to reveal a small cupboard filled with toilet roll and cleaning supplies. Another to one with stacks of papers, documents of some kind, probably accounts or some shit, but seriously who keeps paper copies nowadays? But the third one was the most interesting one. 

The metal door was a labour to open, scraping into the floor over a mark from others doing the same thing, the room was dark but you can tell instantly that it’s much bigger than the previous two. You use your phone torch to scan through the pitch black, revealing the jackpot. Animatronic heads are mounted on the wall like the room belongs to some kind of a  game hunter. Pointing the light down, you see the rest of the beasts, huge chest cases and clumpy-looking feet littered along the floor And in the corner the skeletons, light bouncing off them back at you, their eyes reflecting red. 

“Ho-ly shit…” You say into the darkness, grinning from ear to ear. This place was fucking insane, in the absloute best way. You waste no time inserting yourself in the room, placing huge metal heads over your shoulders and snapping a few pics looking like some demonic purple rabbit. Then some more with your arm draped over these endo-skeleton things, these took you a bit longer to build the courage to touch because fuck, their eyes were staring right into the depths of your soul. But once you did touch them and they didn’t pounce on you, you felt reassured enough to tackle anything else this creepy attraction would throw at you. 

After about ten minutes in your photoshoot, you leave the room wanting to see more than the behind the scenes stuff, you may as well see all the bits the normies get to see. Looking online earlier you knew all about the set up, creepy 80s looking corridors designed to mirror an old pizzeria chain, where apparently some kids had gone missing. Patrons could even sit inside the faux-security office taking shifts trying not to jump out of their skins as robotic creatures stalked them. Now that, you’re dying to see. 

It takes you no time to find the corridors leading to the security office, on the way discovering the dormant animatronics. One a seven foot fucking teddy bear, another a beat up looking rabbit. Golden- or maybe green, it’s hard to tell in the absence of light. This one is particularly nerve-wracking, something about its stance, it’s head tilted to the side but its eyes looking up. 

“Fuuuuck,” you giggle, angling your head to look into the creature’s mouth, open only slightly. “the designers did a good job on you, shit…” It’s only when your face gets very close to it, the robot shifts, its metallic body struggling loudly in the otherwise silent building. You flinch hard, body shoving itself away from it, thudding against the wall hard enough to wind yourself. It quickly halts, the movement dying when its head fully rears. 

You breathe out shakily, laughing at your own stupidity, clearly you triggered some kind of motion sensor and paid the price for it. You shake your head at the beast, moving away from it down the corridor and into the office, careful not to get too close to anything else that could try to scare the shit out of you. You finally manage it, and step into the office through a doorway without the actual door part, an excited smile spreading across your face. This is so fucking cool, you think, crouching down to look at a monitor on the desk, then deciding to sit in the grimy swivel chair in front of it. You then notice that the desk has drawers in it and move to look through them, an eagerly curious part of you taking over. The top one is full of a tonne of random shit sellotape, paperclips, a computer mouse and its ancient cord. The one underneath though, sticks, you rive it hard to try and open it, even more intrigued that it wouldn’t open. You jiggle it hard, the rattle echoing in the large room, but your efforts amount to fuck all and it doesnt move an inch. 

You sigh, calling the drawer a bastard under your breath and recline a little in the seat, closing your eyes for a moment. When you open them you nearly jump six feet in the air at the sight of that fucking animatronic from earlier, the yellow bunny, standing in the the doorway, it’s huge head peeking round the corner, staring directly at you. How in god’s name didn’t you hear the fucking thing move? It must weigh loads and it looks old, so there’s no way it can move silently.

“God, this place.” you say, to yourself, to the room, it doesn’t matter. You’ve had enough scares for tonight, it’s probably best if you bail before you trigger any other attractions. No longer smiling, you stand up hesitantly, moving slowly and consciously. Some kind of dread now hanging in the air because this fucking rabbit is really creepy.

You walk up to the door and carefully squeeze yourself through the gap, desperate to not touch the thing. Managing it, you outwardly sigh, that was a small mercy because some loud noise from the robot would probably give you a heart attack right now. You step away from it, ready to get yourself out of here. But the second your back is turned the most agonising sound makes you freeze. 

Breathing. Raspy, pained, human, fucking breathing. 

Your turning around is prevented by the cold grip on your throat, backing you up against its metal body, its lack of body heat making goosebumps spring over you instantly. Uselessly, you push against its hold, instinctively wanting to get away from it and the reality of what was happening. But your struggling just makes it grip you harder, thick plastic fingers tight on the base of your throat. 

A deeply coarse sound vibrates from the creature, a breathy sound that takes you a while to realise is laughter. Laughter cold and mean, making your heart hammer in your chest. “What stupid little girl snoops around in the dark on her own?” Each word sounds painful, it must take the thing sheer will to push past such agony just to taunt you.

You tremble, “What- what are you?” the words so quietly terrified you can’t believe they’re your own. There’s no way this is part of the attraction. Just no way anyone would program this to grab patrons so violently. This was something all too wrong and all too real. 

Without warning or hesitation the creature uses your throat as leverage to slam you against the wall, there’s no room for protest or struggling, it’s power is inhumanly strong. You cry out when your body hits the concrete, its unfeeling coolness stark contrast to the fretful heat coming from you. The robot’s head cranes down above yours, a subtle clicking alerting you to every slight movement. You’re winded, energy trickling down your face as tears when you’re dawned to the terrifying conclusion that you’re trapped.

It finally answers you, the raspy voice coiling your stomach in fear. “Your worst fucking nightmare.” The creature must hear you sob in response because again it- he laughs, it’s cold and mocking. Only stopping when he takes the time to parrot your desperate fearful noises back at you, making himself laugh again. It’s becoming clear to you that this must be a person, someone inside this awful thing, an employee gone rogue, trying to scare the living daylights out of people stupid enough to break in… maybe. But that voice…

“You’re hurting me.” You choke out, unsure of what you’re trying to accomplish. Internally reasoning that people have empathy and people can be talked down, you hope that he’ll let you go but it seems more and more unlikely by the second. The hand on the back of your head flexes, tangling in your hair and yanking your head upwards so you can glimpse him out of the corner of your eyes and the sight is just awful. 

The inexpressive face comes close as the man inside hisses through the rabbit mask, “You don’t know the meaning of hurt.”  

“Look,” you whimper, “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have come here.” The words are near incomprehensible through your tears. “God, I shouldn’t have come here…” You repeat, body convulsing under the monster’s grip. Your crying is loud in the corridor, echoing off the hard floors and mirroring the heartbreaking sound back at you. You're lost in it for a couple of seconds whilst this thing seems to just enjoy the sound, before the air is knocked from your lungs by the creature’s hand trailing down the arch of your back, all the way down to your behind where he grabs a hard handful of your flesh. It’s so unexpected that you just stare at what you can see of him over your shoulder, now silently shaking. The action turns your stomach, it doesn’t hurt but it’s rough and riddled with intent. 

His other hand moves, turning you around before again shoving you to the wall and caging you in with his massive frame, using that insane strength to push you down to your knees. “No,” He almost coos, “You shouldn’t have. But don’t worry… I won’t let you go to waste.” 

Whilst you're still making sense of the words, the monster grabs itself at the waist, huge fingers prying between the metal plates and rummaging until he frees his very human and very real penis. You don't want this and the disdain is evident in your eyes, but a dark part of you thinks that to please him will make him let you go. He holds himself before you, there's no illusion even with the suit that he's huge and the thought scares you.

The metallic hand in your hair pulls your head towards him and you obey, fear making you compliant. He smears himself against your lips, precum already leaking from his tip and laying warm on your face. He doesn't have to tell you to open your mouth, the rough tilting of your head is enough, and you hesitantly part your lips, flinching when he yanks you towards him. Your eyes involuntarily close when he shoves his cock in your mouth, he doesn't hold back, pushing himself as far in your throat as he can before you gag, your hands frenzied grabbing at the creature's hips. He pulls back for a moment before shoving back in repeatedly, forcing your jaw open to accept him each time. 

He grunts, burying himself inside your throat and holding you still. "You'll have to do better than that, if you're scared of me hurting you." The snarl in his voice makes your eyes wide with realisation of what he wants. You obey without question, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him as good as you can, his grip relenting enough to let you. Swirling your tongue on the underside of his shaft with only the goal of getting this over with as soon as possible. It’s like he knows and the huge hand in your hair slows your movement, forcing you to take him slow and deep, revelling in the feeling of your hot mouth and the frantic way your eyes dart around. 

The salty taste of his big cock stirs you, and each time he uses your mouth it makes your heat betray the pain of his brutal hold. It’s instinctual and even though your mind is against it your body is reacting. Trying to push the conflicting feelings from your mind you continue sucking, an eagerness spurring you on when he groans, he’s close, you can tell from the leniency in his grip. But just as you’re getting your hopes up that he’s going to finish, he pulls your lips from him, making you look up at the terrifying form above you. The sudden dread that sizzles through you is inexplicable, it’s almost as though you forgot how horrifying this costume was and the reminder shocks your core. 

You look so frightened kneeling there, your pupils tiny and your lips still parted, saliva dripping down your chin that underneath the mask he smirks cruelly, the action painful enough to make his cock twitch. With how warm and slick your mouth was, he can only imagine how tight your little cunt is going to be, fuck it’s been so long since he last broke a pretty thing like you. He’s going to savour it. 

“Stand up.” The monster commands, the raspy voice insanely harsh. You obey without question your legs trembling as all trace of hope leaves you, all chance of this ending any time soon trickled between your legs. As soon as you reach your feet his large hand grabs your shoulder shoving you forwards, back towards that old guard’s office you left only minutes ago, but it felt like years. Stumbling through the doorway, the brief idea of running flashes through your mind, but you’re too scared, you don’t want to make what this man was going to do worse. 

You don’t have the chance anyway, with crazy strength he catches your arm, forcing your body down onto the desk in front of you. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips at the rough action, your whole body still shaking. Once he has you where he wants you, the creature’s huge hands rake over your body, no gentleness or intimacy in his touch, just pure malicious lust. He gabs at your breasts, fingers digging harshly into the sensitive skin, then roughly pulling up the fabric of your shirt, so roughly the material tears. You’d be cold if not for the raging adrenaline in your veins. At the sight of your naked torso the mascot bears down on you, no emotion in its dead eyes, “Such a stupid girl, coming here, getting yourself in trouble. Is this what you wanted, huh?” To punctuate the question he takes hold of your face, squeezing your cheeks so that you let out a shaky gasp. 

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling against the hold that was making your teeth hurt, but he doesn’t move an inch. At your silence he grabs your left tit pinching your nipple so hard your body raises from the desk to try and escape it. “Huh?” He snarls again. And you try to shake your head, but with no way to move you’re forced to speak. 

“No-o.” Your voice cracks, your answer making the creature above you grind his cock against your thigh, the godforsaken suit preventing him from touching himself, his own unique fucking torture. His mocking spurs a sudden surge of fight  and sees your legs rise and kick hard at his chest, the dull thud of striking metal echoing in the dark room. It’s useless, and his laughing is only proof. He holds your legs against his chest with one hand, using the other to tug down your legging and the panties you were wearing underneath, taking them completely from your body and discarding them on the dirty floor. 

Looking down at your wet cunt he near growls, such a slick little fucktoy that walked right into his grasp. Cold metallic fingers trace over your entrance, pulling your folds apart to see the trembling of your hole, your unwanted wetness coating his fingers. You hate yourself for being aroused but maybe it’s for the best, maybe it’ll make this more bearable. You quiver when his digit pokes inside you the costume fingers large enough to stretch you open when he sinks in, you groan the invasion pressing against a coil in your core. Seeing how your pussy swallowed his finger so well, tight around him when he fucked it in and out made him pull away, needing his hands to hold your thighs down as he rubbed the head of his dick against your entrance. Desperate to feel the grip of your walls on one of the only parts of him that remained intact. 

He shoves into you roughly, forcing your walls to accept him, all air in your lungs leaving in a suffered groan. He’s thick and long and pushing to the hilt you feel more than full, like he was taking you over, touching all of you at once. The stretch burned but the pain quickly dulled when he began rutting into you, a selfishly brutal pace that had you helplessly gasping. He fucks you as deep as the suit will allow him, the waist of the costume slamming into your hips so hard the desk thudded against the floor. 

It’s like you’re outside of your body looking at the scene, feeling his hands move to lift your body from the desk, holding you and manipulating the angle of his pounding to suit him. Shoving into the part of you that makes you scream and your juices spill around the base of his cock. It doesn't feel real, but at the same time is brutally so an unwilling pleasure seizing hold of you and making you clench around his length. He groans,not stopping his pace as you begin to flutter around him, what a filthy fucking thing you are to enjoy this, he thinks, the thought making him fuck you harder. Forceful thrusts that quickly beginning to stutter as the monster nears his end, bursting inside you like an animal and stuffing you full of him. You’re dirty, used and broken, letting the cum seep around him, dripping down onto the desk. 

He holds you still for what feels like hours before dropping you down onto the slick tabletop, leaving you to crumple on the floor. There’s no coherent thoughts in your mind, just a frightening emptiness as you get to your knees and crawl over to where he threw your clothes, hands shaking as you try to gather them up. He chuckles at your form, bruises already beginning to show on your hips and thighs, before slowly walking to you, a cold metal foot shoving you over, your body thudding into the floor. 

“Now, where do you think you’re going?”

A/n: Here it is. My second Hallowe'en event, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I know this is very different to the kind of thing I usually write, but heck, why not try something new. X

Stay tuned for my third fic!

[flwrstqr]

⊹ ˚ ╱ THE PROPOSAL ˒ PSH 𓈒

──── ❛ 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈, 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎...𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽.

﹙ 𝓹𝐥𝐨𝐭 ♡𝓹𝐫é𝐜𝐢𝐬 in which, during a staged engagement, sunghoon and you share a kiss unexpectedly sparks genuine feelings and confusion.𖥔 𝔀arning not proofread, kissing┊GENRE ‎⸝⸝⸝ fluff fake marriage based on the proposal (the rom com) one shot◞ 𝓐𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 ──

DANi NOTEZ ୨୧ i loveeeee rom coms, and i love this scene for the proposal so why not js make a one shot based on that for hoon? + this is dedicated to my number 1 hoon lover.

SUNGHOON STOOD STIFFLY BESIDE YOU, his hand resting awkwardly on your shoulder. The room was filled with the eyes of your friends and family, all gathered for what was supposed to be a joyful engagement party. But there was one problem: the engagement was fake.

“Come on, you two,” your best friend teased, a mischievous glint in her eye. “If you’re really engaged, then let’s see a kiss!”

Your heart pounded. Sunghoon’s eyes met yours “Alright, let’s get this over with,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, leaning in for a quick peck.

Your lips brushed for a slight moment, and you pulled back almost instantly. The room was silent for a beat before erupting in laughter and groans of disbelief.

“Seriously? That’s it?” your friend scoffed. “Give us a real kiss!" Sunghoon’s eyes widened. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon’s expression hardened. He gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “We have to make this convincing,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, your heart racing faster than ever. Slowly, he leaned in again, this time with a determination that made your knees weak. When his lips met yours, it wasn’t the chaste peck from before. This kiss was different—deep, slow, and intoxicating.

The cheers and applause from the room faded into the background. For a moment, you almost forgot this was just an act. Almost.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. The room exploded in cheers, but all you could focus on was the lingering sensation of Sunghoon’s lips on yours.

He gave you a small, almost shy smile, his hands slowly dropping from your face. “Guess we convinced them,” he said, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. The line between pretend and reality had blurred, and you found yourself hoping that maybe, just maybe, this kiss was the start of something real.

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: HERE I AM WITH ANOTHER SAM SMUT! I seriously don't know what happened here, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Just a small disclaimer: don't go around hitting people, kids. Use your big words for big emotions!

Thank you for your time and all your love!~

PS: bonus points to whoever finds the tiny easter egg.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x afab!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 4045 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: weird, drunk guy hitting on the reader. Sam getting protective and physical. Guard dog Sammy. Mentions of blood, the taste of blood, and bruises.

Cowgirl position, making love bites, dirty talk, cream pie, Sam is a little obsessed in his fuck-drunken mind, cock-piercing, pierced tongue.

Believing in Sam had always come naturally to you. The moment he showed you his guitar and the way he could handle it, you knew he had potential. That is why you never minded coming to his band practice; you enjoyed cheering him on, giving his cheek a kiss after each session and smiling at him, praising him in a gentle voice.

Sam loved having you as an audience. Everything about you made him want to be better. He taught himself your favourite songs, just so he was able to see your face light up when you recognized the melody. Sharing his passion with you was easier for him than with anyone else. At first, he had thought your personality was the reason for that, but when you kissed his cheek after one of his practices and the first thing he had felt was the wish that you would kiss his lips instead, he began to consider that there perhaps was more than just the trust he showed you.

After all, whenever Sam had doubts, he would come to you.

Whenever he didn’t know what to play, he would come to you.

Whenever he felt like he had to show someone a new song he taught himself, he would come to you.

That is why no one was surprised that he would come to you once his band had landed its first gig in Zuzu City. Blue eyes glistening with excitement, his whole body trembling while he tried to refrain from jumping up and down as he relayed the news. You laughed with him, hugging the blond tightly to your chest. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” you told him. And he believed it.

That was also the reason you stood in front of a stage in Zuzu city, wearing your most adorable outfit you knew was one of Sam’s favourites, given the way his gaze lingered whenever you had it on. In fact, he had given you the expected reaction when you had stepped up to the bus; first squishing you to his toned chest, just to stare once you had pulled away. His voice had been hoarse as he complimented you, telling you that you were an absolute beauty tonight. You had smiled at him, your fingers running through your hair as you leaned towards his ear just to whisper some words that would spin around Sam’s head for the whole ride. “You look deliciously hot as well, Sammy.” 

Deliciously hot, huh? He had never heard you call anyone else like that. Did that mean something? That was entirely possible, wasn’t it?

The way you stared up at him while he was on stage definitely made him wonder. But he was not innocent, either, because he stared right back. Each song he announced, he announced for you. Each special solo was dedicated to you. Each look with hooded “fuck me”-eyes that seemingly danced over the crowd was dedicated to you. To Sam, this whole fucking show was for you. And you drank it all up.

In fact, you were enthralled enough you didn’t even notice the guy who pushed up to you as Sam thanked the crowd. All that mattered was Sam, and his voice whispering a good night to the crowd. His blue eyes landed on you again, and you took the chance to smile at him, blowing him a kiss.

“You alone here?” a voice next to you suddenly slurred over the noise of the crowd, which meant that its owner must have been incredibly close. You turned your head slowly, meeting a guy’s face. He seemed drunk already, and the grin he gave you certainly wasn’t one of good intentions. You cleared your throat and took a step back, scratching your neck. “No, no really.”

“Huh, that’s smart for a pretty girl like you.”

 You gave an awkward smile, not wanting to tempt the stranger into attempting any further conversation as you turned around, trying to make your way to the bar. You had exchanged two sentences, and you were already desperate to escape the situation.

You were able to make it to the bar and ordered a drink that you could down before finding Sam, when suddenly, a hand landed on your hip, using the leverage to spin you around. A gasp left your lips, your muscles tensing when you saw the drunken man again.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you. Somebody should teach you manners.”

You grit your teeth, trying to squirm free of his grasp. His hands were sweaty and felt uncomfortable – disgusting - even through the fabric of your clothes.

You had never been in a situation like this, not in all the years you had lived in Zuzu. Your eyes trailed to the stage automatically, trying to make out the blond hair. Maybe he would catch your gaze and-

“I am talking to you,” the voice snarled, making your attention snap back to him. His hand was still on you, and you wanted to get it away from you.

“Fuck off,” you hissed, squirming again and finally being able to get rid of his hand.

“That is no way to talk to someone. Especially for a pretty girl like you. Maybe I should take you home and-“

“Didn’t you fucking hear? She told you to fuck off.” A familiar voice, a voice that felt safe.  Sam had emerged from the crowd, pushing past the guy to stand next to you.

“And who are you?”

“Her fucking boyfriend. Also telling you to fuck. Off.”

One of the blond’s arms was quick to snake around your waist, pulling you into his side with a quick tug. Again, a hand was on your hip, but this time you felt much more comfortable. Much better.

The happy glint that had been in his eyes while he was on stage had vanished and was replaced by something dark. Something you had never seen cloud those pretty blue eyes before. It almost seemed possessive.

The stranger cleared his throat, and for a moment, it seemed like he would retreat without any other word.

But then, everything went down fast.

“Fine. No one wants a cheap slut like you, anyways.” The drunk man hadn’t even finished spitting on the ground in front of his feet before a fist connected with his jaw. Sam, the man who played the SpongeBob theme song when bored and loved the minions had thrown the first punch, and a good one at that. The sheer power behind it made his opponent stumble backward, the blond using the opportunity to now step in front of you.

“Don’t. You. Call. Her. That!” he growled, his fist already lifted for the next hit. The guy, despite the level of alcohol that he probably had in his system, was fast, though. He shot back up and allowed his knuckles to meet Sam’s face, but his aim was off. His head knocked with a light cracking sound to the side. You let out a loud gasp, and desperately tugged on the man’s shirt, trying to get him away from your harasser. “Sam. Come on. Let’s go.”

But Sam had started something. And he would finish it. You were absolutely shocked as he aggressively shoved the guy, who now had blood on his knuckle. He used the distraction he had created to hit his face again, this time sending him to the ground with a grunting sound. Trying to defend himself while falling he scratched Sam, but it seemed the guitarist didn’t even mind. Instead, he straddled him and gripped him by the collar of his shirt, staring right into his eyes.

“Never. And I mean fucking never touch her again. I will find you. I will break your hands and shove them so far down your throat they will come out of your ass again.”

“Sam!” You cried, which finally got his attention. He let go of the shirt, dropping him in his own spit, giving the pathetic figure a snarl. Without another word, Sam gently took your wrist, leading you toward the backstage area where he had gotten ready. Once he finally turned around to settle you on one of the chairs, knelt down in front of you to make sure you were okay, you could see what the impact had done to him. His carefully styled hair was a mess; there were scratches on his cheek, and his pretty pink lips were busted open. You found it pretty unfair that he had just gotten into a fight and still looked hot. Maybe even hotter.

“Are you okay? What a disgusting-“

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips. They were so pretty. And he had gone all out just to protect you. You just had to kiss him, didn’t you?

You couldn’t resist anymore, your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulled him in. The blond winced at the sting when your lips collided, but by Yoba, did your hands feel good against the heated-up skin of his neck. He would have been stupid if he hadn’t kissed back; and who was he to deny your tongue entrance to his mouth, anyway?

It would have been a shame if he didn’t suck on your tongue like a desperate man, and fuck did your lips taste good.

Blood and saliva mixed together, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you let your hands trace through his hair, giving a few blond strands a soft tug. Sam grunted, getting on his long legs without breaking the kiss, allowing himself to drop down on the sofa while pulling you towards him. You took the chance and straddled him, only pulling away to kiss down his jawline.

“You know how long I have wanted to kiss you?” The guitarist murmured, allowing his head to dip to the side to give you more access. “Ever since you first played that stupid song to annoy Sebastian and Abigail,” you answered bluntly, kissing down his neck. You knew Sam’s face would bruise up tomorrow, so what were a few more? You wanted this fucking man.

Fangs sinking in the flesh of his neck, you sucked on the newfound redness, shiver running down your spine when you heard the deep groan rumble through his chest. Feeling you react to the sound he made gave him a sudden boost of confidence, large hands trailing down your back just to grip the flesh of your ass with both of his hands. He gave it a good squeeze, not being able to help himself but moan. You felt so good already, and you weren’t even undressed.Yet.

“Sam…I…Fuck, I want you.”

That certainly was an understatement by now. You needed Sam. Given the pulsing you felt beneath you, you were pretty sure you would get what you needed, though.

His fingers were now clawing at your butt as he pulled you in closer, his busted lips smashing into yours again. This time he didn’t even flinch at the feeling; this time he was nothing short of greedy. Shoving his tongue past your pearly whites, he explored your mouth, trying to get to taste more of you. You moaned for him when he sucked on your tongue again, his piercing rubbing against the muscle. The heat that had begun pooling between your legs made you shift around his lap, only to be rewarded by the blond bucking up his hips in an attempt to chase the feeling. Both of you moaned into one another’s mouths, and you were sure you had never craved something this much in life. Sam’s hands had left your butt now, fingers working on unbuttoning your pants. His fingers were skilled, so the small button keeping the shorts together definitely wasn’t much of an obstacle. In fact, you could feel his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties faster than you could blink. Not that you minded. Quite the opposite; while still enjoying Sam’s tongue dominating yours, you lifted your hips so he could pull down the fabric that separated his slender fingers from your heat.

“That’s a good girl,” Sam cooed in your mouth, making you moan quietly. How could a man have you so wrapped around his finger without even touching your pussy yet?

That quickly changed when the calloused pad of his index finger found your clit, gently nudging the hardening bundle of nerves. “So wet for me already, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your brain not able to produce words that would even come close to explaining that he would be able to make you just as wet by only getting naked.

Your hips rutted against his finger, and in turn, his hardening cock. The blond sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the need to get you naked and feel you against, scratch that, around his drooling dick growing in the pit of his stomach. But Sam, ever the gentleman, instead allowed his finger to slip through your folds, circling your needy little entrance with ease before dipping in just the tip.

Your reaction was immediate. You arched in your back and tried to press down your hips to coax him in a little more, but Sam, staring at you in absolute awe, removed his finger whenever you attempted. How could one person be so hot? How the hell could he have gone so long without touching you?

“Sam, please. Give me something,” you begged, licking your lips as you looked down at him. Sam, giving you a toothy grin, finally gave in and pushed a single finger inside of you, enjoying your lip being dragged in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning his name out loud. His finger thrusted up inside of you, and just to give you a better idea of what was awaiting you he bucked up his hips.

The blond took his time, only adding a second finger after you begged him to, scissoring them within you to coax out more of the moans that sounded like music to his ear. He himself had to dig the nails of his other hand inside of the couch to ground himself enough as to not whimper and moan just from touching you. However, when your hands set into motion to remove your shirt and bra, allowing those fucking pretty tits to bounce free, it was game over. A low moan left his swollen lips as he stared at your chest, shamelessly ogling them. You could have sworn you saw his tongue loll out of his mouth, some drool dripping from the muscle, but a third finger stretching your drooling cunt distracted you.

“Sam, please. Can I ride you? Pretty please.”

He was dreaming, probably. Or he had smoked too much weed and was imagining this; how else could this be happening? But your hips rutting against his fingers that were coated in your slick were telling a different story. And even if all of this wasn’t real, he would enjoy it while it lasted.

“Sam? Please, baby. Please let me ride this cock…Fuck, you are so hard already. I can feel it through your pants…”

The whine that left you when he removed his fingers from you absolutely tore his heart into shreds, but he needed to free his dick. Otherwise, it would have ripped his pants apart, given that pretty begs that left your sweet mouth oh so easily.

He shifted you around in his lap, pulling down his pants and boxers just enough for his erection to spring free. The skin was hot, and you just had to gawk at him. Sam was big and girthy. And at that-

“You got your dick pierced?” You whispered, but it pretty much sounded like a whimpered moan. The blond grinned a little, tongue trailing over his teeth.

“Mhhhm…You like it?”

Fuck. You could have had an orgasm on the spot, by doing nothing else but imagining the pierced tip to bully into you.

Sam opened his mouth to tease you just a little more when he suddenly felt your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding his drooling tip to your entrance. He was absolutely hypnotized, watching his tip kiss your sloppy hole and the way your thighs twitched. “Fuuuuck…” he breathed as you allowed the tip to enter you. You were insanely wet, and your cunt greeted him with another gush of juices.

The blond decided he could have died right then and there and his life would have been complete; that was at least what he thought until you pushed and pushed and pushed. He just couldn’t take his eyes away from his dick vanishing in your desperate pussy, centimetre by centimetre. His mouth was hanging open, and now you definitely could see his tongue hanging out, his chest heaving and falling quickly as the man who had fearlessly thrown punches before was now whimpering for you.

You yourself weren’t in much better shape.

The metal pushing against your wall the more you sat down on him; his sheer length splitting you open, it all had you a babbling mess. Telling him how good he felt, how big he was, how much you had wanted this. Sam’s hands were pawing at your hips, visibly straining himself from not just fucking into you, fucking everything he couldn’t say right up your cunt. But you needed a moment, he knew by the way your walls clung to him, the way you shifted around. You were so fucking precious, and he wanted you to know. His lips trailed along your neck, sucking onto your skin once he found your collarbones. His finger had taken its place on your clit again, flicking the bud gently as his blue eyes peered at you again. His eyes had the same look in them as they had before, just this time they were also filled with silent worship. This look alone gave you to strength to lift your hips, just to drop them down, allowing him to bottom out inside of you again. The two of you moaned in unison, and for some reason, you couldn’t imagine a life without this dick anymore.

Your hips rutted back and forth as your lips found Sam’s again, the kiss you shared desperate and wet. But neither of you cared as moans spilled from your connected lips. His pre-cum was mixing with your wetness, causing sloppy sounds whenever your walls completely wrapped around him. “You are so fucking pretty on my cock like this, baby. Does it feel good, huh? Like me filling you up? Like bein’ my good girl?”

You wanted to answer, you really did. But your open mouth only let moans of his name pass, so you resorted to a quick nod. You placed your hands on his arms, nails digging into the flesh as waves of pleasure hit you with every single movement of your hips.

“S…Sam,” you rambled, head thrown back. You started to full on bounce on his lap again, your tilted back position allowing him a full view of those jumping tits of yours. They were simply too hard to resist; his head dipped down and placed kisses all over the heated-up skin until his lips finally caught on of your nipples. He eagerly sucked on it, his hand carefully squeezing the other. Couldn’t let one of these pretty tits go without attention now, could he?

The breathless moan that entered his ears stimulated his brain in a way he couldn’t describe. Something feral was awoken within him; the events of the night flashing in front of his inner eye. You were his now, right? His pretty girl, and he needed to show you just that. His hips snapped up quite automatically, while his mouth switched to the other nipple. His finger was still massaging circles into your clit, making your vision go blurry.

Sam and you hadn’t ever done as much as hug, and still, he knew exactly how to touch you. Your nails this time found his chest through his shirt as you tried to keep up with the fast pace he had immediately picked up, your whole body bouncing with his tip bullying up into you whenever you sat down on him. His piercing was rubbing against your walls, massaging them just like they were sucking off his dick. You were pretty sure you had never been this wet before, and you were even more sure that Sam’s crotch was drenched by now.

Sam apparently tried to break you apart as his hips kept snapping up at a rough pace, neither caring about the droplets of wetness falling from your cunt, nor about the way he was whimpering and begging for you with his voice.

The sounds that his vocal chords produced became more high-pitched as his dick twitched and pulsed inside of you. His cock abused your cunt, and you were all for it. Honestly, you would have cried if he wasn’t fucking you like his name was written all over you.

Your orgasm was nearing, you could feel it tickling every nerve of your body, giving you the feeling you had to pull away. But he just felt so perfect. So right.

Trying to voice your nearing orgasm was definitely harder than you had expected. All that you could come up with was his name again. Your tongue felt heavy, like you were drunk. And in some way, you were. Drunk on his dick, his smell, the feeling of his tongue and mouth messing with your tits, him.

Sam didn’t feel much different. He could have sworn that he was about to burst at the seams. You felt heavenly, delicate, and yet like you needed to be pounded into oblivion. He just couldn’t get enough of your tits in his face, of the way you sounded. You were his favourite song now.

“Gonna cum, princess,” he breathed in the valley of your breasts, holding onto your waist to help you pick up your pace. You were sobbing his name as you felt your orgasm tearing at your insides. You wanted to warn him, you really did, but the cry that left you reached your tongue faster than any words – it was unholy. Lewd, and desperate, full of arousal as your orgasm made your body quake.

Your body was shaking on him, the release you felt paralyzing you, and yet it only turned Sam on more. His hips fucked into you ruthlessly, metal of his cock piercing bumping along you as his tip kissed your cervix.

“FUCK!” He snapped, teeth sinking into your tit as a violent orgasm made his cock twitch, spurts of cum painting your walls white.

But that wasn’t enough for Sam. He needed it deeper. He needed you to feel it on your way home. In bed. With heavy breathing, he put his feet on the couch and while holding you down, fucked up into you.

Strained sobs left your lips as your sensitive cunt was abused so mercilessly, but those whimpers that filled the room and came from those beautiful lips; they almost made you beg for more.

The blond only stopped when his hands on your waist began to shake, just like his legs. His thrusts became sloppy and less precise, hips stuttering and losing force until they completely halted. The two of you sat in silence, your head on his shoulder while his arms held you close and secure.

It took you several moments before you shared a silent gaze, your lips meeting in another kiss. This one was much slower, sweeter, even. You still could taste the blood on his tongue, and you still didn’t mind.

When you pulled away, you could see that Sam looked even more beaten now. The scratches had swollen just like his lips, and a bruise was starting to form on his jaw. His neck just looked as bad; love bites scattered all around the pale skin.

The blond’s hand reached out to gently tuck a strand of your hair back, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

You gave a shy smile back, sighing slowly.

“You shouldn’t have fought with someone because of me.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head.

“For you? I’d happily get beat to smithereens.”

[luveline]

hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers. 

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking. 

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.” 

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.” 

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks. 

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says. 

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.” 

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does. 

She grins. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You all done?” 

“Yep.” 

“Not hungry anymore?” 

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.” 

“Thanks, beautiful.” 

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?” 

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night. 

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch. 

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests. 

“I’m tired.” 

“It’s not bed time.” 

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat. 

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?” 

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it. 

“That sound fun or what?” 

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder. 

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.” 

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.” 

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask. 

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns. 

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided. 

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids. 

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday. 

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now. 

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily. 

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.” 

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath. 

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.” 

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter. 

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!” 

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says. 

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?” 

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.” 

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says. 

“I didn’t say one!” 

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.” 

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.” 

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks. 

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?” 

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips. 

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying. 

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says. 

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?” 

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest. 

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out. 

“Oh, no,” Avery says. 

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.” 

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else. 

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks. 

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.” 

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.” 

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say. 

“Gonna get Beth changed.” 

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.” 

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed. 

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?” 

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask. 

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?” 

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.” 

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says. 

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?” 

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately. 

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.” 

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.” 

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!” 

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.” 

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.” 

“Sorry,” she laughs. 

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?” 

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player. 

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?” 

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs. 

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in. 

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time. 

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time. 

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.” 

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous. 

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says. 

You catch his hand. “I got you one.” 

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth. 

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter. 

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?” 

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?” 

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin. 

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff. 

“Feels too good to be true.” 

“My turn tonight,” he says. 

“No, baby, it’s my turn.” 

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say. 

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke. 

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.” 

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back. 

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.  

[mionemymind]

The Actress & The Geek

Summary: A late night practice causes Y/n and Wanda to confess their feelings.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Slight Angst

A/n: I might post another one shot like this with a similar layout but different setting, like what if they needed an understudy? Would y’all want that?

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

“Wandaaaa, where are you taking me?” Y/n annoyingly asked. Her newfound friend, Wanda Maximoff, dragged her to the College’s stage room. “I need help practicing my lines and you’re the only person I know who would be up at this time.”

Y/n glanced at the hallway clock, it was close to midnight and by now, Wanda’s friends were either partying or asleep. “I don’t know why you’re panicking so much. Everyone knows you’re going to get the part.”

Wanda pushed through the doors and excitedly ran up the stage, leaving Y/n by the bottom of the steps. “You don’t know that. I heard rumors that Violet might get it over me.” Y/n sighed at Wanda’s poor excuse of a lie. “Now stop being a baby and come over here.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and slowly walked up the steps and in front of Wanda. “Turn to page 214. I’ll start us off, okay?” Y/n reluctantly opened the script and turned to the page. Once Wanda saw that Y/n was ready, she started.

“Did I do something?” Wanda asked nervously, a hint of hurt in her tone. Y/n was stunned for a moment at how quickly Wanda got into character. Not wanting to disappoint her friend, Y/n tried her best to act in the scene.

“What makes you ask that?” Wanda walked away with a sigh as she combed her hand through her hair. “Are you seriously acting clueless right now?” Wanda gave Y/n a ridiculous look.

“Answering with a question doesn’t quite help-”

“You’re avoiding me.” A small pause happened in the script as Y/n and Wanda stared at each other. Y/n turned away, “I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

Wanda groaned and stomped back to Y/n. She spun her around and grabbed her hand. “Quit acting like a child and talk to me.” Wanda’s character was desperate to hear anything from Y/n, her eyes pleaded for some truth.

“I don’t know if I can tell you.” Wanda’s mouth twitched into a frown. She dropped Y/n’s hand and took a step back. Looking at the ground, Wanda played with her hands, unable to look at Y/n. “You used to tell me everything…but now you barely hang out with me anymore.”

Wanda’s eyes started to water, she started to walk away until Y/n’s character held her hand. “If I tell you-,” Y/n groaned as her character didn’t know what the best choice of words was going to be. In a softer tone, she says, “If I tell you…we can’t go back to the way things were.”

Wanda appeared scared of the truth but things had already changed ever since Y/n became distant. So who cares if the truth changes everything? Maybe now it will help this obstacle between them.

“I-,” Y/n’s eyes looked over Wanda’s shoulder, acting as if there was a character back there. “Tell me you’re not in love with him,” Y/n desperately begged. Wanda looked back, her hand still in Y/n’s, and pretended to see somebody.

She faced Y/n again, searching Y/n’s eyes for the meaning behind this. “What?” Y/n pulled Wanda closer, their faces inches apart. “Tell me you’re not in love with him.”

“Why does that matter?” Wanda challenged. Y/n gulped at how little space was between them but still pushed through with the character. “Because if you’re in love with him - I cannot be with you.”

Wanda acted as if someone called her name, but on cue, Y/n cupped Wanda’s cheek and kissed her briefly. “Find me - when you do, tell me you feel the same.” Y/n let go of Wanda’s hand and backed away to the other side of the stage, leaving Wanda at the center.

With wide eyes, Wanda touched her lips, the feeling of Y/n’s lips lingered. Her brain rumbled for the next line, but all she could focus on was Y/n. “Uh Wanda, did you want to finish the scene or?”

“You kissed me,” Wanda whispered to herself, surprised that it happened. “Did you want to kiss me?” Wanda only dreamed of a moment like this ever since she met Y/n back in the fall semester. She remembered bumping into Y/n on day one of rehearsal. Ever since then, they’ve always remained friends, until the day Wanda wanted something more.

In the basement of the party, Wanda sat with a group of her friends that go way back to high school and her castmates from the play. Y/n sat beside her already five shots deep into the night. Everyone was socializing and having a great time as the play had phenomenally gone well.

“We should play spin the bottle,” one of the crew techs said. Everyone was in some agreement wanting to spice the night up. “Okay, I’ll go first,” Steve said. The semester was close to an end and all Steve wanted to do was loosen up. He spent the majority of the semester worrying about his grades, his scholarship, and his football career.

The bottle spun and low and behold, it landed on the very person he wanted to kiss. “You down Bucky?” The liquor in Steve gave him the confidence he needed, otherwise he would have hidden. “You don’t even have to ask.” The two met in the middle for a slow but passionate kiss.

The group screamed with delight as Bucky deepened the kiss, almost going in with his tongue. “Okay you two, break it up!” Bucky pulled away with a charming grin on his face as Steve sat back looking love-struck. “Up next!”

Carol was next to spin, “God, I hope I get a good kisser,” Y/n whispered yelling into Wanda’s ear. The brunette forced a grin as she suddenly felt ill at the thought of someone else kissing you. She tried to think of something clever to say but nothing came out.

Focusing back on the group, Carol had just gotten done kissing Maria, another duo in Wanda’s group that had crushes on each other. It was now Y/n’s turn. She spun the bottle with great anticipation of who she was going to kiss tonight.

Slowly but surely, the bottle was making its last spins until it passed Wanda and stopped to the girl beside her, Natasha. Wanda could feel her heart drop as the two girls looked at each other with mischievous smiles. “Looks like you have to kiss me Y/n - don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Wanda closed her eyes as she saw the pair leaning in, praying it would be over quickly. And when she opened them back up, she couldn’t help but wish that the bottle landed on her.

“Yeah - I mean it was in the script. I didn’t - I thought you wanted me to commit to it.” Y/n walked back to Wanda scared that she accidentally hurt her friend. “Was it fake for you?” Y/n stood still for a moment, afraid to answer. Wanda walked forward, closing the distance between them. “Tell me - did that kiss mean anything to you.”

“Wanda - I - I’m sorry. I really thought you wanted me to-”

“-What I want is to know if you like me or not. So tell me,” Wanda declared. The beating in her heart could not stop as she waited for Y/n’s answer. “I thought you would do just a kiss on my cheek or would have said that you kissed me out loud. But you kissed me and I can’t go back now.”

Tears formed in Wanda’s eyes as Y/n wracked in her brain for words to say. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long now - so please tell me that was real.” The tears fell to her cheeks as her heart beat in anticipation.

“Please say something,” Wanda begged.

“Please don’t cry,” Y/n whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of Wanda crying in front of her. “Why shouldn’t I?” Wanda wiped some tears with the back of her hand, feeling stupid for even confessing.

“‘Cause I never knew you felt the same.” Y/n pulled Wanda close and kissed her deeply, wishing to show that this was the kiss that Wanda deserved, not from some stupid play, but from the fact that Y/n truly loved Wanda.

Wanda steadied herself, placing her hands against Y/n’s chest as she fiercely kissed back. The more Wanda pushed to steady herself, the more Y/n leaned in, begging for more. Their gasps and labored breaths were in sync as the kiss went from passionate to needy.

With each kiss, Y/n poured her heart, wishing that she could stop tasting her tears. Pulling back slightly, Y/n heaved out, “Please stop crying.” Y/n used one hand to wipe away the tears. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Wanda chuckled as she looked at Y/n with such adoration. “I think you owe it to me to redo the scene.”

“Want me to kiss you better?” Wanda pondered for a second, “Something like that plus you’re acting skills could use some practice.”

Y/n gasped, a feigned hurt expression on her face. “I think I was amazing. Might have to audition for lead love interest.”

“Guess we gotta practice our kiss scenes.”

“Way ahead of you Maixmoff.”

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[pucksandpower]

Eurovisionaries

Charles Leclerc x Monegasque singer!Reader

Summary: the “Charles Leclerc competes in Eurovision” fic no one asked for but I wrote anyway

Warnings: none that I can think of

“Why is Charles Leclerc trending in the music section?” You wonder aloud, eyes narrowing as you see the pop-up notification on your Twitter.

Opening the app, you’re met with a tweet from an official Eurovision updates account: “🇲🇨 #Monaco: Eligible to Compete in the #Eurovision Song Contest 2024.” Below it, Charles Leclerc, Monaco’s pride and F1 sensation extraordinaire, has replied to the tweet with a sly “I’m ready 🎤.”

You can’t help but laugh. The thought of Charles taking the Eurovision stage is hilarious. You respond to the tweet, “Ever considered a duet? Though I would advise keeping your day job for now 🏎️😉.” Notifications instantly start pouring in, a flurry of likes and retweets.

Your phone buzzes, a call from your manager, Rosa. “Did you see the Leclerc tweet?” She starts without preamble.

“Of course. The entire principality probably has by now,” you chuckle, imagining the reactions of Monegasque citizens.

Silence. A beat too long.

“What?” You probe, sensing her hesitance.

Rosa exhales deeply, “The Monegasque Eurovision committee called me.”

You sit up, “About the tweet?”

“More than that. They’re seriously considering him.”

“For Eurovision?” You're incredulous, “He’s a racer, not a singer.”

She hesitates, “That’s where you come in.”

A long pause ensues. The weight of her words settles around you. Rosa is never one for jokes, especially when it comes to your career.

“They want you to team up with him,” she continues, breaking the silence, “He can compose and play but they need a voice. Your voice.”

The gravity of the situation dawns on you. Representing Monaco in Eurovision is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity but with Charles? Someone you’ve only admired from afar on the circuit?

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You voice your concerns. “Our styles, our personalities ... they could clash.”

“It’s a risk, yes. But it’s also an opportunity. Both for your career and for Monaco,” Rosa reasons.

You look out of the window, the streets of Monaco stretching below. The pride of representing your nation battles with the uncertainty of this potentially bizarre partnership.

“I need some time, Rosa,” you whisper.

She understands. “Take all the time you need. But remember, some of the best things in life come from taking the most unexpected turns.”

As you hang up, Charles’ tweet flashes on your screen again, the confident smile in his profile picture making you wonder if this journey is one you should embark on.

***

“Are you sitting down?” Rosa’s voice is tense, filled with an urgency you rarely hear from her.

You shuffle around in your apartment, finding a chair by the window. “I am now. What’s up?”

She takes a deep breath, her exhale echoing over the line. “The committee’s made their decision. They want Charles Leclerc for Eurovision.”

You almost drop your phone. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” she replies, her tone betraying her surprise as much as yours. “And they want you to partner with him.”

The world seems to blur around you. Images of the grand Eurovision stage, the cheering crowds, and a sea of flags swirl through your mind, and the idea of standing there, alongside someone like Charles, is surreal.

“This is ...” you trail off, searching for words.

“Insane? Unprecedented? A media goldmine?” Rosa supplies, ever the pragmatist.

“All of the above.” The weight of the offer hangs between you, punctuated by the distant sounds of Monaco outside your window.

“What did you tell them?” You ask, after a moment of heavy silence.

“I told them we’d think about it,” Rosa says. “But darling, this is huge. For your career, for Charles, for Monaco!”

You sigh, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I’ve never even met him. What if we don’t click? What if we can’t perform together? What if—”

“What if you soar?” Rosa interrupts gently. “What if this is the push both of you need?”

You consider her words, the promise they hold. But the fear remains. “What if I fall?”

Rosa’s voice softens. “Then you get back up, just as you always have. But you won’t be doing it alone. You’ll have all of Monaco behind you.”

The conversation weighs on you long after you’ve hung up. Charles Leclerc, Monaco’s golden boy, and you? It feels like a dream, one you’re not sure you want to wake up from.

That night, as Monaco’s lights twinkle beneath your apartment, a notification lights up your phone. An email with an official Monegasque Eurovision committee letterhead:

We are pleased to extend to you an official invitation to represent Monaco at the Eurovision Song Contest 2024 in an act alongside Charles Leclerc. Details to follow.

The reality sets in. And it terrifies and thrills you in equal measure.

***

“Are you the singer?” The voice unmistakably belongs to Charles, though softer than the confident tone you’ve heard in his interviews.

You turn, your heart doing a tiny flip. He’s leaning against a grand piano in the center of the room, looking more perfect in casual jeans and a t-shirt than he has any right to. You have to remind yourself to breathe for a moment.

“Are you the racer?” You shoot back, attempting to mask your nervousness with humor.

He laughs, “Touche.”

Both of you approach the piano, the room filled with an almost tangible tension. He extends a hand. “Charles.”

You shake it, feeling the calloused fingertips, likely from handling the wheel so often. “I know. And you probably don’t know me, but ... it’s Y/N.”

“I’ve heard your songs on YouTube,” he admits, releasing your hand. “You have an incredible voice.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, surprised and flattered. “You … drive really fast?”

He laughs again, easing some of the tension. “I try.”

The two of you start the rehearsal, with Charles taking the lead on the piano. The notes are hauntingly beautiful, full of emotion. You find yourself getting lost in the music, your voice blending seamlessly with the tune.

But suddenly, Charles stops playing. “Sorry,” he says, a hint of frustration in his voice. “I’m not used to this. Playing in front of someone.”

You blink, taken aback. “You’re not used to performing?”

“Not like this. Racing, I get. This is … different,” he confesses, running a hand through his hair.

You nod, understanding his fear. “Let’s take it slow. We have time.”

He looks up, his eyes searching yours. “Do we? Eurovision is just around the corner and I will be away a lot of the time for races.”

You take a deep breath. “Every journey starts with a single step. Let’s just focus on today.”

You play and sing for hours, taking breaks when needed. The connection, while still tentative, starts to form. By the end of the session, a shaky version of your Eurovision song emerges.

“I think … I think we could actually pull this off,” Charles admits as you pack up.

“With a lot more practice,” you reply, smiling.

He grins, the confidence you expected from him back in full form. “Challenge accepted.”

Walking out of the studio, you can’t help but feel a tiny flutter of excitement. This partnership, as unlikely as it seemed, might just work.

***

“I’ve never been to this bistro,” Charles admits, looking around the quaint little place you’ve chosen.

“It’s a hidden gem. My little escape in Monaco,” you reply, sipping your tea. “Sometimes the noise of the city gets too much.”

He nods, fidgeting slightly. “I get that. For me, it’s the track. I love racing but our world can become ... suffocating sometimes.”

The vulnerability in his words surprises you. You’d always seen Charles as a fearless driver, not a man who needed an escape.

“You know,” you start, “I always thought you loved the thrill, the fame.”

He chuckles, but there’s a shadow in his eyes. “I love racing. The fame, not so much. I love the fans. I love Ferrari. But it’s overwhelming at times. Especially when the car is underperforming.”

You feel a connection in that moment, the shared weight of expectations. “Music is my escape. But sometimes, the pressure to always be on, to always perform ... it’s draining.”

He looks at you, a new understanding dawning in his eyes. “I never thought about it that way. We’re really quite similar, aren’t we?”

The conversation flows naturally after that, moving from work to personal interests. You discover shared hobbies, like a love for old movies, and differing opinions, like his disdain for pineapple on pizza which you adore.

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime,” he declares, feigning outrage.

“You have no taste!” You retort, laughing.

The afternoon slips away, the two of you lost in conversation. It feels like two old friends catching up, not two professionals thrown together by fate.

As you leave the bistro, Charles hesitates. “Would you like to come to a race sometime? See the action up close?”

You smile, touched by the offer. “Only if you come to one of my performances.”

He grins, “Deal.”

In the days that follow, your rehearsals gain a new depth. The newfound friendship seeps into your music, turning the notes and lyrics into pure emotion. The song evolves, reflecting the story of two individuals finding harmony in the most unexpected place.

Rosa notices the change too. “There’s a spark,” she comments one day, after a particularly moving session. “Both in the music and between you two.”

You blush, dismissing her with a wave. “It’s just the music.”

But as the days blur into nights and rehearsals become more intense, you can’t help but wonder if there’s truth in Rosa’s words.

***

“Is it always this chaotic?” Charles whispers, leaning close so only you can hear as you both step backstage of a popular talk show. Bright lights, cameras, and a bustling crew create a vibrant atmosphere of controlled chaos.

“Welcome to my world,” you reply with a smirk, feeling the familiar adrenaline of a live performance. “A bit different from the paddock, isn’t it?”

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Just a tad.”

A producer approaches, positioning you and Charles for the interview. As you settle onto the couch, Charles’ arm grazes yours, sending an unexpected jolt of warmth up your arm.

The host, a vivacious woman named Martina, begins, “We have Monaco’s sensational Eurovision duo with us today! Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N. Tell us, how has this partnership been?”

Charles shoots you a glance. “Unexpected at first, certainly. But every moment has been an adventure. We’ve learned from each other and it is reflected in our music.”

You nod, adding, “It’s been a blend of two worlds. And the result is something neither of us anticipated but we have come to love.”

Martina’s gaze flits between both of you, sensing the underlying tension. “There’s undeniable chemistry between you two. It’s clear to me even now. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Your heart races and you see Charles shift uncomfortably. The question, though posed in jest, holds an element of truth that neither of you has addressed.

“We’re focused on our music and representing Monaco to the best of our abilities,” Charles replies smoothly but the tips of his ears redden.

Martina, sensing a scoop, presses on, “But off the stage? Any sparks?”

You force a laugh, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re just getting to know each other. Our priority is Eurovision.”

Once off the set, Charles runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as his way of dealing with stress. “That was intense.”

“It’s just the beginning. The closer we get to Eurovision, the more questions like that we’ll get.”

He stops, turning to face you, his eyes intense. “What if there is some truth to their questions?”

The air grows thick, the world narrowing to just the two of you. “Charles ...”

He takes a step closer, his voice dropping. “I can’t ignore it anymore. Every time we’re together, there is this pull.”

Your breath catches, the confession echoing your own feelings. “I feel it too. But right now, everything is so complicated.”

He nods, looking defeated. “I know. Let’s just ... focus on the music for now.”

***

“Are these feathers?” Charles asks, a touch of panic evident as he examines the ornate costume handed to him.

“Welcome to Eurovision,” you say with a wry smile, adjusting the shimmering fabric of your own dress which seems to be a riot of sequins and colors, reflecting the vibrant spirit of the competition.

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “This is a bit different from my usual race suit.”

You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Just wait till you see the pyrotechnics.”

The two of you stand backstage as acts from different countries, each more extravagant than the last, parade before you. The dazzling array of costumes, the eccentric set designs, and the sheer scale of the event are overwhelming.

Charles, sensing your nervousness, takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got this.”

You nod, leaning into his touch. The tension between the two of you has only grown, making moments like these all the more intense.

Suddenly, a voice announces, “Next up, representing Monaco, please welcome Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N!”

Your heart rate spikes. Charles leads you to the stage, the grand piano at its center surrounded by a sea of lights creating an ethereal atmosphere.

He starts playing, the haunting melody echoing in the cavernous venue. As you join in with your vocals, the world seems to fade away. It’s just the two of you, lost in the music.

The song builds to its climax. You move closer to Charles, the emotional depth of the lyrics pulling you in. The final note lingers and you find yourself drawn to him, your faces mere inches apart.

The audience, sensing the electricity between the two of you, erupts in a frenzy of cheers, pulling you back to reality. You share a charged glance with Charles, the applause deafening.

The performance, though only a few minutes, feels like a lifetime. As you walk off stage, Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “We did it.”

You bury your face in his chest, the heady mix of adrenaline and emotions making everything feel surreal. “We really did.”

***

“And the winner of the Eurovision Song Contest 2024 is ...” The host’s voice draws out, adding to the tension in the room, “Monaco!”

The words hit you like a tidal wave. The arena explodes in applause and cheers, bright lights flashing everywhere. Confetti starts to fall and the air is pure magic.

Charles, equally stunned, turns to you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Is this real?” He breathes, pulling you into a tight embrace.

Overwhelmed, you cling to him, the weight of your accomplishment settling in. You won Eurovision.

Breaking the hug, Charles lifts you in sheer joy, spinning you around, the world blurring past. Both of you are laughing, tears of joy mingling with the glitter on your face.

As the celebrations continue, you spot the Italian competitors cheering raucously. Somehow, they’ve managed to pull out a Ferrari flag, waving it as proudly as if they had won.

Charles notices too, laughing. “They really do love their racing.”

You smirk, nudging him playfully. “Or maybe they just love their racer.”

The moment is interrupted as you’re whisked away for the winner’s interview and your encore. But the mania doesn’t stop the two of you from sharing stolen glances and smiles.

Later that night, as the euphoria begins to die down, Charles finds you on a balcony overlooking the city. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” He murmurs, joining you by the railing.

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Winning was the dream. I didn’t think about what would come after.”

He chuckles, “You and me both.”

The night stretches before you, the city lights twinkling like stars. You lean into Charles, drawing comfort from his presence. “What now?”

He takes a moment to think. “Now, we take on the world together.”

***

“I wrote something last night,” Charles says hesitantly. The two of you sit in his apartment, the aftermath of your Eurovision win still a fresh memory.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “For the piano?”

He nods. “But it’s more personal than anything else I’ve composed. I was thinking ... maybe you could add lyrics to it?”

Curious, you watch as he moves to the piano he has against the wall, his fingers delicately dancing on the keys. The melody is raw, filled with emotion. It speaks of longing, of new beginnings, of unspoken feelings.

It’s beautiful.

“That’s incredible,” you breathe once he finishes.

He looks up, vulnerability evident in his eyes. “It's how I feel. About all of this. About you.”

The confession hangs in the air, a delicate thread connecting the two of you.

“I’ve been feeling the same,” you admit, your heart racing. “I wrote some lyrics too. But I didn’t have the melody for them. Maybe ...”

You share the words you penned down, the emotions you felt towards Charles clear as day. Together, the two of you create a song, a musical odyssey of the path you’ve walked together and the deepening connection between you.

Hours pass, the world outside forgotten. The song takes shape, evolving with every note and word.

Charles breaks the silence, his voice soft, “This is special.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the moment. “It is.”

He moves closer, the space between you disappearing. “Every moment with you is.”

Your heart flutters, the intensity of his gaze making you breathless. “Charles ...”

But he silences you with a gentle touch, his fingers brushing your cheek. The world seems to stand still as he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s a new beginning, a promise of what’s to come.

***

“I’m so nervous,” you confess, wringing your hands. The roar of the crowd outside, waiting for the Monaco Grand Prix to begin, is deafening.

Charles pulls you into a comforting hug. “It’s just singing the national anthem. You’ve performed on much bigger stages.”

“But not in front of the entire racing community and Monegasque royalty,” you counter. The idea of serenading the beginning of Monaco’s most prestigious race, especially with Charles being one of the contenders, fills you with anxiety.

He smirks. “You’re worrying about a three-minute song when I have to race for nearly two hours?”

You punch his arm playfully, “Oh, hush. You love it too much to complain.”

His expression turns serious and he takes your hands in his. “It’s just like any other performance but this time, for our people. Focus on that.”

His words sink in. You’re not just singing for the crowd. You’re singing for Monaco. For Charles.

As you step out, the sun glints off the polished cars lined up for the race. The noise is deafening but one look at Charles, his eyes filled with pride, grounds you.

Drawing a deep breath, you begin. Your voice, clear and strong, rises above the commotion, capturing the spirit of Monaco. The crowd falls silent, lost in the beauty of the moment.

When you finish, the applause is thunderous. Charles rushes over, lifting you off the ground in a bear hug. “That was incredible,” he whispers in your ear.

You laugh, the tension from before dissipating. “Now go win the race.”

He winks. “Only if you promise to sing for me every time.”

***

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t tweeted that day?” Charles muses, lying next to you on a grassy hill overlooking the city. The stars twinkle above, the night air filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

You chuckle softly, turning to face him. “I would probably be preparing for another solo concert but not much would change for you. You’d still be busy reveling in your racing glory.”

He grins, playfully nudging you. “So you admit I brought excitement to your life?”

You roll your eyes. “Excitement, chaos, media frenzy ... take your pick.”

Silence settles between you two, comfortable yet filled with words unspoken. The city lights below seem distant, the world reduced to just this moment.

Charles breaks the silence. “I can’t imagine my life without you now.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “Neither can I. It’s been a wild ride.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “A ride I would relive in a heartbeat.”

“Charles,” you begin, gathering your thoughts, “we’ve been through so much together and I cherish every moment. But we also need to think about our future. The media attention, the expectations ... it’s a lot.”

He nods, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know. But we'll face it together. Like we have from the start.”

The promise in his voice fills you with warmth. “Together,” you echo, sealing the commitment.

***

“You’re not serious,” Silvia’s voice cuts through the room. “It’s the biggest sponsorship event of the season. For Ferrari! You can’t miss it.”

Charles looks torn, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Y/N’s first major solo concert. She’s been there for me, every step of the way. I need to be there for her.”

You feel a pang of guilt. “Charles, I understand the importance. If you can’t make it—”

He interrupts, looking you straight in the eyes. “This isn’t just about the concert. It’s about us. About our priorities.”

The room is thick with tension. On your side, Rosa, always the mediator, attempts to defuse the situation. “There must be a way to do both.”

Charles shakes his head resolutely. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Silvia looks at him, her eyes pleading. “You know the implications of this, right?”

He nods, swallowing hard. “I do. However mad the sponsor may be will be worth it.”

Later, the two of you find a quiet corner.

“You didn’t have to,” you whisper.

He pulls you close, his touch reassuring. “But I wanted to. More than anything.”

You look up, eyes glassy. “Why?”

“Because,” he starts, searching for the right words, “these races, these events ... they will always be there. But moments like your concert, they are once in a lifetime. And I don’t want to miss a single second of our journey together.”

The emotion of his words takes your breath away. “Charles ...”

He places a finger on your lips, silencing you. “I love you.”

The words hang in the air. Voice choked with emotion, you reply. “I love you too.”

***

“Do you ever think how surreal all of this is?” Charles murmurs, both of you backstage at the 2025 Eurovision finals, invited back as guest performers. The arena pulsates with excitement, the memories of your victorious performance still fresh in many minds.

You laugh, adjusting your dress. “Every single day. Especially today, coming full circle.”

He takes your hand, the spark between you as electric as ever. “It feels like just yesterday we were thrown into this wild ride.”

A stagehand signals that it’s almost time. The two of you take your positions, the familiar chords of your winning song filling the air. The audience roars in approval, their cheers echoing the joy of that fateful night.

As the final note lingers, you turn to Charles, preparing for the bows. But he isn’t sitting behind the piano. Instead, he’s down on one knee, a small velvet box in hand.

The realization hits you like a tidal wave, your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

Charles speaks loud enough for the world to hear, “From the moment we met, I knew my life had changed forever. I can’t imagine a day without you by my side. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Tears stream down your face, every emotion amplified. “Yes. I want that more than anything,” you manage to whisper.

He slips the ring onto your finger and the world fades away as his lips find yours. You see the Italian delegation cheering wildly out of the corner of your eye and can’t help but laugh. The hosts may have changed. The competitors may have changed. But the love of Italians for il Predestinato will always live on. They’ll have to get in line, though. You just officially claimed the title of his biggest fan.

[sinofwriting]

PDA - Logan Sargeant

Words: 1,127 Summary: Logan and his girlfriend like PDA.

Masterlist | Support Me!

Alex watches as Logan, his new teammate, kisses his girlfriend, one of his hands that had been resting on her waist drifting down to her ass, before sliding into the pocket there and giving a squeeze and he can feel himself nearly choke on his drink. “Fuck,” he coughs and he can feel George slam his hand on his back once then twice.

“Alright, mate?” He nods, giving another cough before clearing his throat. “Yeah, just watching the rookie feel up his girlfriend.” He watches as George’s eyebrows furrow as he looks over at Oscar who’s sitting at the next table. “Other rookie.” George looks over at where he had and his eyes widen. “Jesus. They do know that they’re in public and we’re all here right?” He looks back over and face twists. They weren’t kissing anymore, but Logan’s hand was still in her one back pocket and his mouth is practically glued to her ear as he whispers something with a smile that Alex doesn’t think he likes one bit and dread for the rest of the season starts to fill him.

They both look away at the sound of Oscar’s voice. “They know.” “What?” Oscar tilts his head over to where Logan is and now the rest of the drivers that had decided to all go out together are looking at the couple. “They know they’re in public. I’ve known Logan for a couple years now. They’re always like this.” “Always?” Alex is hoping that Oscar is fucking with him, joking with him. “Always. They’ve been together like two years now?” He shrugs, “We all thought at Prema it was just the honeymoon stage.” Alex turns to look at George, horror in his eyes. “I don’t think I can do this.” “It’s just a bit of kissing, mate. You’ll be fine.” George pats him on the shoulder and he can see from the corner of his eye Max silently laughing. “She’s going to be traveling with us. Coming to all the races.” George’s hand drops. “Well, your fucked then.” Alex groans, dropping his head on the table with a loud thunk.

“You know, I think I like the american. He broke Alex.” Max says, chuckling and Alex is grateful when he hears the dutch driver let out an oomf. “Thank you, Charles.” “No problem. Though I do think it’s a bit funny.” Alex groans, letting his head drop back down when he had just started to lift it up.

“Seriously?” Charles shrugs, “I don’t understand why there is a problem. So they don’t uh, hold back in public. It is not like they are fucking. It is just a bit of kissing.” He then looks back at the couple and shrugs again. “And ass grabbing. Could be much worse.” Alex lets out a groan when the rest of the drivers make agreeing sounds.

“What’s wrong with Alex?” Is the next thing that he hears and immediately groans again at the American accent.

—

Logan was aware that most people didn’t like seeing him and his girlfriend together. Not because they didn’t like her or him or them together, it was more how they acted. Which Logan was absolutely unashamed about. If he wanted to kiss his girlfriend he was going to. If he wanted her in his lap, she’d be there. It didn’t matter how many fake gags his or her friends made or that time he got told off by Prema’s PR team to lay off because what if the press picked up on it?

The memory nearly made him scoff. Drivers got a bad reputation. If they weren’t knowing for fucking anything that walked, one night stands only, they seemed to be know for cheating on their partners. If not by press and fans than at least by other drivers and the like. Logan still struggled a bit with that part of being a driver. The way you’d see a fellow driver fuck someone and then a day later be bringing their partner around the paddock.

He would’ve figured that they’d be thrilled with a driver so into his girlfriend that he literally couldn’t keep his hands off her. Meant they had one less driver to worry about with a cheating scandal.

“It’s the european.” His girlfriend had said when he told her about it and the response had made him laugh in the moment, but he did wonder if there was some truth to it.

“You alright?” Her breath ghosts over the shell of his ear and he squeezes her hip. “I’m all good, baby.” He grins at her. “Just wondering when Williams is going to give me the talk.” She laughs and he can see Lando look over at them. “Any day probably.” “Probably.” He chuckles. He was surprised that after the first race he hadn’t gotten it. Didn’t mean he didn’t think it was going to happen.

Tilting his head up, he puckers his lips a bit and she immediately kisses him. His grip on her hip tightens when she pokes her tongue out teasingly, wishing that she wasn’t sitting on his lap sideways, but straddling him.

He’s about to move her into straddling him when Lando drops into the seat next to them. So he settles for pressing another kiss to her lips before turning his attention to the slightly older driver.

“You all good, man?” Logan’s grin widens at the way Lando’s nose wrinkles at the word man. Him and the other brits all acted the same way when he said it instead of mate. “Yeah, just thought I’d come over, get to know your girlfriend a bit since apparently she’ll be traveling with us.” His voice goes slightly at the end, clearly wondering if it was true. He nods, “yeah. Finally got her to quit that job of hers,” he starts to tease, laughing when she hits him gently on the chest. Lando looked at the two with wide eyes. “I did not quit my job for you.” She says to him before looking at Lando with a sorry expression. “Ignore, Logan.” He pouts a little at that, but keeps quiet. Not minding her taking over the conversation. He traces her name on her hip as she says it to Lando, before repeating her statement.

“I didn’t quit my job for Logan.” He snorts, but other than that, keeps quiet. “I quit my job so I could go full time with graphic design.” The other driver perks up a bit. “Graphic design, really?” “Yeah, I’ve been doing it for the past like five years.”

He somewhat tunes the two out as they start talking more about graphic design. Only really paying attention to her voice and the cadence of it, as he closes his eyes and relaxes.

---

Tagging: @gemofthenight @peachiicherries and also @yellowyoonglescibe & @heesvers who commented on my post when I mentioned wanting to write this.

[cryptidnamedhabit]

So since im kinda autistic about the new wolverine and deadpool movie im just gonna post some poolverine/deadclaws headcanons to help keep myself sane :]

Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers under the cut

Also Logan is autistic because I said so

Wade will drink whatever in his coffee in the morning, he doesn't care, meanwhile logan needs a ridiculous amount of things in his morning coffee for it to be drinkable to him

Logan is too much of a wuss puss to admit it though and just didn't drink coffee for a long time

Then, one day, out of the blue, Wade came home with two coffees, one for himself and one for logan (and a puppicino for mary puppins ofc)

Logan refused at first and only agreed to try it to get Wade to stop whining

Needless to say, he was genuinely surprised (and ever-so-slightly creeped out) that Wade knew what he liked in his coffee without telling him

"Apparently, oldie wolvie liked his coffee like that." Wade told him

Wade might've fallen first, but logan fell harder

He was HARD on the denial train

At first he didn't know why or what he was feeling whenever he was around Wade

Feeling jealous whenever Wade gives his attention to someone else? Just annoyed that the other person doesn't express the same "disgust" he has for Wade

Feeling mad when someone finally expresses their "disgust" towards deadpool? That's just because he wasn't that annoying that day and didn't deserve mean (but true) things said about him

Just woke up screaming from a nightmare and needs to hug Wade to feel grounded again because the time ripper killed him in his dreams? He just allows it because mary puppins wasn't quick enough to do it

The feeling of butterflies in his stomach whenever Wade looks at him with nothing but adoration and love in his eyes? Probably just something off in the food he ate earlier that day

Feeling the urge to grab Wade by his face and kiss him while whispering sweet nothings until the universe explodes? Just an intrusive thought or two

It isn't until he's on some random walk with mary puppins that he finally realizes that he just might have a crush on deadpool

He pretty much goes through the seven stages of grief once he realizes

It became more difficult to shove his feelings down his throat whenever he was around Wade after that

It wasn't until another one of their "family game nights" that Negasonic pulled Logan aside to talk to him

"When will you two just make it official already?" "What the hell are you talking about?" "About you and Wade, that's what. You don't seriously think that nobody in this building can see you two clearly have a thing for each other, right?" "Still don't know what you're talking about" "What are you on right now?" "The autism spectrum."

Negasonic gave up trying to talk to Logan about Wade after that

After all of that was said and done, it wouldn’t be until one of Wade's random teasings that finally made Logan snap

"God peanut, you wanna kiss me sooo bad it makes you look stupid~"

That was it.

Logan closed the distance between himself and Wade, grabbed his face, and kissed him passionately before he pulled away

"Hhholy fucking hell peanut, how long were you saving that for?" "You've got no idea bub"

"Does this mean I can finally use the blowjob handles on your mask?"

Meanwhile Althea shouts "I CAN HEAR YOU MOTHERFUCKERS CLEAR AS DAY!"

Anyway, I think I might make a part 2 to this post, but idk

[soobinsonly1bf]

Imagining sub!txt 'n their dom!bf and how stupid they get for even the tiniest bit of dick. Like, they get so pathetic for it after seeing their member!bf on stage being sexy and performing... I might actually write this myself tehehe—from ur pookie @seventhcallisto

DAMN IT HAPPENED!! I GOT AN ASK WITH A MALE!READER!!!! i waited for it😔

sub!txt + being needy for cock

warnings: nsfw, male!idol!reader, sub!txt, dom!reader, anal (obviously...), crying while fucking (in yeonjun one), degradation (in soob and gyu one), kinda exhibitionism (in soob one), use of word slut (in yeonjun and gyu one), mention of oral (in hyuka one)

a/n: IDK WHY THE SOOBIN ONE IS SO LONG, ALRIGHT?????

!!nsfw under the cut, minors dni!!

yeonjun

he sees you performing just as good as always... being just as perfect as always. everytime he's standing next to you in a choreography, he can't help, but sneak a glance at you, from time to time smirking. it's not his fault that you look so good he can't take his eyes off you...

it really is a surprise for you when yeonjun whispers to you "you're gonna fuck me good after the concert, yeah?" right on the stage. you look at him with a shocked expression, but quickly try to get over it.

obviously, you fulfill his wish. he can't help the tears going down his face as you pound into him. "am i fucking you good? or should i try harder?" you tease and he's not even able to speak. he just mumbles little "fuck"'s and "love you"'s as he tries to not let fans, that still didn't left the stadium, know how much of a slut he is for your dick.

soobin

he stands right next to you, but for him it feels like you're on a different level. sweat dripping from your face, your hair wet and you're still doing your absolute best. you really are a professional.

he catches himself staring at you and immidiately realizes you're both on the stage, right in front of your fans. why are you so hot tho? there's no need to be so sexy, is it? he can't help, but want to take your dick right there in front of all your fans and other members...

so when the concert finishes and you're going backstage, soobin immidiately throws himself at you and drags you to a random room. the only important thing is for it to have a lock and no people inside, the rest doesn't matter.

you're not really surprised, you know how needy he is... also, it's not the first time.

"please, please, we have a lot of time before we leave... just- god, please..." he whines, pressing his hips to yours and trying to grind himself... he really is pathetic.

"god, soobin, you're seriously so needy for cock? what a shame your female fans can't hear how you beg for dick... my dick. they would be shocked, don't you think?"

"baby... please- i'll be good, you know it... just- just a goddamn tip, please?" you look at him, kinda surprised at how needy he is... but you already know he will get what he wants.

beomgyu

he's eye fucking you the whole concert, you just hope you're the only one who sees the way he looks at you...

but he definitely did too much when on a quick "break" to change your outfits, he sat on your lap and started grinding on you... how the fuck are you supposed to come back on stage with a goddamn boner? this stupid brat...

you make him regret his bratty behaviour when the concert ends. you immidiately take him to a random room, throw him on a sofa and start fucking him.

"are you fucking happy now? that's exactly what you wanted, isn't it? stupid, horny slut, just needing cock when we're supposed to go on stage."

"shit, i- i'm sorry- ah, fuck... i didn't mean to- god, s-slow down!" he whines, but both of you know damn well, that he wants nothing more than you to be rought with him...

taehyun

you're worried. he's not talking to you, not even looking at you. fans are confused why two of you suddenly didn't interacted at all for the whole concert.

everything's clear when you're backstage. he looks at you with his boba eyes in a specific way and you immidiately know what's going on.

"we're gonna be back in... some time. we need to talk something out, so don't worry and don't interrupt us, please." you say and drag him into a different room, quickly kissing him.

you both aren't even sure when kissing became you fucking him against the wall. suddenly you stopped, making him whine. "i want you to finally look at me." you say as you pull out of him, making him whine once more. soon you're sitting with him on your lap, on a chair.

"now keep your eyes on me... don't close your pretty eyes if you want me inside again."

hyuka

he's not even trying to be unsuspicious, he just straight up says "guys, yn looks really handsome today, doesn't he?" to the fans. like four times. you just chuckle and try to ignore it.

you have seriously enough of it when hyuka calls you sexy. you know he didn't meant anything wrong, he just wanted to compliment you... he shouldn't do all that on the stage tho.

you just glare at him, as if you want to tell him to shut up already, but he just smiles cutely in response... he's too adorable for his own good.

he's also as adorable as before when he gets on his knees. "please... can i at least suck you off? we- we don't need to do anything else, alright? i just- please, i want you so bad..."

"just a taste, huh? no worries, you're too cute to refuse."

[beforeimdeceased]

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT4

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: the song was one thing, but calling you up on stage?

a/n: none!

better keep your head down + give me a call if you ever get lonely

masterlist.

the paparazzi are everywhere, all snapping shots of you as you rush into the band’s car. ellie stops to talk with them, ignoring jesse and dina’s pleads for her to get in. the sounds of the excited fans and the paps priding questions ring in your ears.

“so that’s the girl that fucked up your face?”

“i wouldn’t say it’s fucked up. it’d take a lot to fuck this face up. i think i look pretty hot with a bloody nose anyway.”

“and the song you performed earlier today is about her? crybaby?”

“yes—“

“ellie, get in the fucking car.”

“—yes and i’m looking into getting it released soon.”

jesse hops out of the car, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her in. “shit, gotta go guys. it was amazing to see you all—“ is cut off by the door slamming. dina let’s out a heavy sigh and throws her head back.

“i should punch you too.” dina starts. it makes ellie chuckle and she looks over at you. “it’s enough for you to write the song and perform it, but to call her out and bring her up on stage afterwards? ellie, seriously, you’re fucking horrible.”

jesse interjects. “not to mention you doing that during one of our most important songs. you ruined the set i’ve been perfectly curating for months. for what? for fun?”

ellie doesn’t respond. she just stares at you. puffy eyes and pouty lips while you sniffle down your remains of sadness. it felt like this night couldn’t get any worse, and yet you knew when you got back to the hotel she’d somehow find a way to prove you wrong.

“if you wanna sleep in our room tonight it’s fine. i completely understand.” jesse whispers to you as he opens the trunk to grab the bags. you think about it for a moment before shaking your head. you don’t want dina and jesse to feel like they always have to babysit you around ellie. you can handle yourself. you proved that today when you socked her in the face.

“alright kiddo. let me know if you need anything, okay?” he smiles, leading everyone to the rooms.

when you and ellie make it to your room, you both say nothing to each other. you’re sure she’ll break the silence, though. she always does. maybe the silence is uncomfortable for her? or maybe she just likes to hear herself talk.

“you gonna eat something?” ellie chimes up as she sees you walking towards the bathroom. you just ignore her and wash yourself up. you can’t seem to pull your eyes away from your bruised knuckles, or the lingering drowsy feeling after you’d been crying. all you want to do is collapse into the couch and sleep.

when you’re all done, you grab a blanket from your bag and settle yourself onto the couch. then ellie comes over, sitting on your blanket.

“remember when i went to jail?”

you sigh. “get off my blanket. i’m tired i want to go to sleep.” you tug at it but she refuses to move. continuing what she’d previously been saying.

“jesse and dina were on a trip and i called you. you bailed me out.”

it was 4am when you got the call. eyes barely able to open wide enough to see your screen. when you answered your heart dropped. “jail? ellie what the fuck?” you frown. she laughs. “i know right. gotta put this in our next song.” even with her sarcasm and smart ass mouth you could hear how scared she was. and you couldn’t say no. why couldn’t you say no?

you shrug. “so? what does that have to do with anything?”

“remember when you said you never hated me?”

you nod but you were rethinking it all now. flexing your sore hand. looking down at your blanket that she’d decided to hold hostage. confusion written all over your face. you said you never hated her, but not that you’d never hate her.

“i didn’t write that song to be mean—“

you interrupt her with a chuckle. “then what the fuck was it for?”

she angrily gets up and rushes away. “fucking forget it.”

you stand up, throwing a couch pillow at her. “why are you such an asshole, williams? seriously. were you dropped on your head as a baby or something? why do you walk through life as if everybody has done something wrong to you? you’re the tragedy of the story? that’s just not the case.”

she grabs the pillow and rushes at you, hitting you over the head. “why don’t you hate me then, huh? if i’m so terrible why don’t you hate my fucking guts?”

an uncomfortable silence falls between you two. you, bewildered at her question, still finding it hard to believe she cares. failing to understand why it’s your opinion she cares so much about. her, anticipating your answer. on edge. wanting things to make sense. both of you staring at each other. breathing heavy. twisted faces.

you see the scared look in her eyes and you almost want to hold her. want to see her for what she truly is: scared. that’s why she’s always angry. because she’s scared. because she’s alone. because she didn’t mean to, but she’s run everyone away.

but her lip curls into an all knowing smirk. the kind that could only come from predicting your thoughts through your eyes. piercing into your soul to ping at the bit of empathy you had left in you. for her. for the girl who’s angry and scared and alone. the girl who called you onstage in front of a crowd of people to humiliate you.

the girl who embarrassed you at karaoke. turned a video of you drunk falling into a meme. pushes you off to the side so she can be in the middle of dina and jesse on the sidewalk. trips you if you aren’t paying attention. lies. fights. and fucks you over.

your face changes completely, and hers falls when she realizes.

“you’re pathetic. you’re sad and you’re sick. i can’t believe i trusted you. i can’t believe i had sex with you. fuck you.” you yell before storming off. leaving her there. all alone.

“so you’re starting a band?” you ask dina. she nods, smiling. “with jesse and a friend of ours. i can’t wait for you to see us perform. maybe you could come to one of our practices this weekend?”

“yeah, i’d love to meet your friend!”

[willsimpforanyone]

Hya!!I was wondering if you could do a poly!solangelo x child of posioden!reader smut. Like a bit of a friendly/cute tease of how Nico keeps falling for posioden kids. I hope your having or had a good day! Also your work is like the meaning of a MASTERPEICE!!!!!!!! Thank you😁

thank u for being so patient and so sweet about my work! <3

all characters are over 18, they have an apartment or something together etc. also i made the reader amab!nonbinary because i don't have enough representation of enby sex with a dick

-----------------------------------------

Even I could feel the heat from Nico's gaze as I blowdried my hair, ruffling the strands between my fingers. I smirked to myself, making eye contact with Will as he brushed his teeth.

"Do you think he thinks he looks brooding?" I stage-whispered, feigning secrecy between myself and the taller of my partners. Will snorted, and immediately sputtered toothpaste over the sink.

"It went up my nose!"

I cackled, throwing my head back and turning off the hairdryer to set it down on the bathroom counter. Nico's voice growled (read: whined) from the open door of the bedroom- "That's karma for laughing at their stupid comment."

"Aw, the edgy bastard can't handle being called an edgy bastard?" I teased, coming to lean against the doorframe as Nico stayed propped up on his elbows, laid on the bed.

He stuck up a middle finger and I blew him a kiss.

"Be nice to the edgy bastard," Will cooed, coming to wrap his arms around me from behind and hooked his chin over my shoulder. His minty breath brushed cool over my cheek. "You know how he gets about Poseidon's kids."

The other middle fingers came up as Nico flopped to lie flat on his back to swear at both of us. "I am not- I don't get like anything, fuck the both of you."

"Is that on the table?" I grinned, leaning back into Will and feeling his hands drag from my waist to my hips. Nico emitted an indignant, affronted noise that mellowed out into something approximating curiosity. Interesting. "Answer me, baby, do you wanna fuck both of us? Or... do you want both of us to fuck you?"

Will's hum vibrated through my ribcage and he nosed at my cheek. "Maybe he wants to see you all powerful and shit, I think. Powerful the way that P-"

The speed at which a pillow thumped into the both of us was honestly impressive, and I shrieked a laugh as it smacked into my (and therefore Will's) face. Nico was now sat up, arms crossed and a disgusted expression on his face. "Don't even, do not bring that name into our sex life, that boy was a mistake I wish never to repeat."

"Hey," I pouted playfully, picking up the pillow and throwing it back. "That's my half-brother, y'know."

Nico threw his hands up in the air and flopped down onto the bed. "Why, why must you remind me of that, do you hate me? I won't let either of you fuck me if you remind me that I'm dating the half-sibling of the first guy I had a crush on when I was 14 when I am now 24 and a whole ass adult who would like to not talk about dumb 14 year old love."

"Hey!" Will protested, waddling with me over to the bed and dragging me down onto it with him. "I have no relation to He Who Shall Not Be A Part Of Our Sex Life."

I had to agree that he deserved the second pillow to the face that Nico served him, and I wiggled out of Will's grip to go crawl over to the son of Hades. "Won't mention it again, Neeks, promise, I'm sorry."

The pout I recieved was adorable and I was utterly powerless to resist kissing it. I was rewarded with a shy smile and hands coming to rest on my shoulders. "Thank you, baby, I appreciate that."

I nodded, kissing him once again. "Now, seriously, do you wanna fuck? 'Cause you were definitely eye-fucking me in the bathroom and I wanna know if you're up for more."

Nico hummed, nodding his head and bumping his nose with mine. "Mhm, yes, I do, I would like to be fucked because I'm warm and still kinda sleepy and frankly being between the sea and the sun sounds incredibly appealing."

The soft whine came from Will, who squirmed over to bury his face in Nico's hair. "I love you so much and you're quite romantic really and I wanna hold you while you get fucked because I don't want to, like, do that bit right now. That okay?"

"More than okay," Nico replied softly, a hand leaving my shoulder to scratch gently at Will's golden halo of hair, freshly washed and smelling of roses and honey. I hummed an agreement, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"You can hold him together while I take him apart, hm?"

I felt the shiver of Nico's body and by Will's hidden smirk, I could tell he did too. Hefting himself up, Will crawled over to the headboard, making grabby hands at his boyfriend. "Come here, you." He recieved a pout, Nico's head tilted back to look at him and exposing his pale olive-toned skin to me quite nicely. Will rolled his eyes fondly and reached out to heave Nico up into his arms. "24 year old adult my ass, demanding to be carried everywhere."

I shrugged, grinning and crawling over to curl my fingers over the waistband of Nico's worn sweatpants that are only acceptable to wear to sleep. "He can be a pillow prince if he wants- what are you gonna do, say no?"

"...no, I'm going to indulge him every time because life was mean so I won't be," Will mumbled, face smushed into Nico's hair, voice dripping with affection.

Nico shifted uncomfortably, the skin of his cheek caught in between his teeth. "You don't have you, y'know? I'm not- if you don't want to, I'm not gonna make you." He looked at me, nerves spiking with worry that he's somehow forced us into this.

"Neeks, we want to do this," I reassured him gently, pulling at the elastic of his sweatpants and murmuring the words into the soft skin of his lower stomach. "Will just wanted to hold you, and you were totally okay with that, right?" He nodded. "And I know that if I didn't want to do this, I could say so and we'd do something else, right?" Another nod, then a blink and a visible steeling of his nerves and a softening of his body.

"Yeah, of course, anything, anything you'd want," Nico whispered, fingers tangling with Will's as they both watched me ease Nico out of his sweatpants and gently pull his thighs apart.

I brushed a kiss over the inside of his thigh, laying down on my stomach. "Right now, I wanna make my boyfriend feel good while our other boyfriend looks after him, does that sound good?"

"Colour, baby?" Will murmured into his ear, reminding him of the traffic light system- green is good, yellow is slow down to a stop and talk, red is stop immediately and transition into aftercare.

"Green, green, I'm good," Nico breathed, eyes locked onto me as I pressed my lips up his thighs. I blew softly over his dick and he inhaled sharply, the same moment he twitched under my attention.

The first swipe of my tongue had his stomach muscles tensed, lip caught between his teeth. Grinning, I looked up at Will. "Lube, please, loverboy." Will rolled his eyes but blushed at the name, obediently grabbing a bottle from the bedside drawer and passing it to me.

Holding it in one hand to warm it up a little, I used the other hand to wrap firmly around Nico's dick, holding it just so I could get my lips wrapped around the tip. The twin inhalations from the boys above me were fuel to the burning heat in my abdomen.

"F-Fuck," Nico whimpered, fingers squeezing tight at Will's as I dragged my tongue around the head, coaxing him harder and harder in my hand. Slowly, I took more into my mouth, feeling the familiar weight of his cock on my tongue and sucking very lightly. The taste of precome burst on my tastebuds and I shivered in delight that my tough, edgy, extraordinarily powerful boyfriend was so easy to please.

Will's lips were pressed to Nico's ear, voice soft and lilting. "Aren't they pretty, huh? They look so good with their head between your legs, does their mouth feel good, baby?"

"M-Mhm, r-really good, so warm, shit-" Nico gasped as his cock bumped the back of my throat, hips jerking up but Will moved both pairs of their hands to hold him down.

"Behave, Neeks, let them do the work," he hummed, kissing Nico's temple. I flicked open the cap of the bottle, releasing my grip on Nico to drizzle some lukewarm lube over two of my fingers.

I pulled my mouth off him slowly, blinking up at my boys through my lashes with a cocky smirk on my face. Nico already looked wrecked, my poor love. "Ready for more?"

His nod was almost frantic, and I laughed softly. "Alright, just relax, I've got you, hm? Will's gonna keep you nice and warm and grounded, okay?"

I rubbed ever-so-gentle at his hole, getting him used to the feeling before easing the tip of my finger inside. Nico threw his head back against Will's chest, gasping.

"Shh, I know, I know," Will cooed as I pressed in further, making sure not to hurt him as his hole swallowed up my finger to the knuckle. I moaned at the sight and the feeling, hips pressing into the bed as I dragged the finger back out. "Feels good, doesn't it? They're so good with their hands, so good at getting you ready for them, shh, don't squirm, be good for us, baby."

Nico's eyes were lidded and heavy, cheeks flushed down to his chest and lips parted in shallow breaths. He looked gorgeous and I kept my eyes on his face as I slipped a second finger inside him along with the first.

He keened, back arching and toes curling. Soft, almost sleepy moans fell from his lips and I soaked them up like ambrosia. "Beautiful," I whispered, pulling and pushing my fingers into the tight, hot heat of Nico. I could feel him relaxing, acclimating to the feeling and loosening up under my touch.

"B-Baby," Nico panted, hips making aborted little rolls despite Will holding him down. "More, p-please, want more, wanna feel you."

Will chuckled lightly, nuzzling into Nico's pink cheek and looking down at me. "You heard the man," he grinned. "Give our pillow prince what he asks for."

I saluted from between Nico's thighs. "Sir, yes sir!"

Nico scrunched his nose, a playful smile tugging at his bitten lips. "Cringe, ew, stop immediately, I will not let you fuck me in some kind of military kink scene, you two can negotiate that firmly without me."

Laughing, I crawled up to be face to face with him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "You don't wanna be the lowly soldier being taken advantage of by his captain and their general?"

"No," he declined flatly, one eyebrow raised in disgust. "No, I do not want that."

"Spoilsport," I pouted, leaning over Nico's shoulder to press my lips to Will's as well. "Guess I'll just have to fuck you without the honourifics." I opened the lube again, hissing slightly as my wet hand wrapped around my sensitive skin, pleasure and desire running thick through my veins as I knelt back between Nico's legs.

Will smothered a laugh, arms moving to wrap around Nico's ribs under the t-shirt he was still wearing. His eyes met mine and he winked. "You'd look hot in the uniform, though." Nico smacked a hand over Will's mouth, then repeated the action with mine when I opened it to reply.

"Enough! No military kink in this bedroom while I am also in this bedroom, and especially not when I am waiting impatiently to be fucked by my partner!"

"I love it when you get demanding," I smirk into his palm, leaning over him with one hand settled on the bed and the other guiding my dick to rest teasingly against Nico's hole. He clenched and released, making a punched-out sound as I applied the barest amount of pressure.

"You're such a tease," Will laughed, smoothing his hands down Nico's sides. "Let the poor kid have it, come on."

"I'm 24!" Nico protested, wriggling slightly to look back at Will. "Just 'cause I'm younger than both of you- oh!"

He choked on his protestations as I finally pushed in, head breaching his tight hole. My head dropped forward, chin almost to my chest as I moaned lowly, his warmth pulling me in little by little until I bottomed out. Nico's hands scrabbled for purchase at my shoulders, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to get used to the feeling.

"Just relax, deep breaths, baby," Will soothed, voice liquid and silky to my ears. "It's okay, I've got you, do you need anything?"

Nico shook his head jerkily, focusing on breathing as I stayed as still as I could, holding myself up over the two of them.

A hand pushed my hair out my face and I looked up at Will. "You too, hon- I'm literally wrapped around our Nico-" (our Nico, ours) "-but I've got you too, do you need anything from me?"

I melted inside, his striking blue eyes feeling safe and lovely and not for the first time I thanked the gods that I got to fall in love with both of them. I shook my head, a small, shy smile pulling at my lips. "I'm okay, I'm good, just waiting for Neeks to be okay."

"I'm okay," Nico parroted, hips rolling experimentally and I gasped harshly at the sudden sensation. He smirked, despite being slightly floaty. "I'm ready, are you finally gonna give me what I want?"

I laughed breathlessly, just once, before I moved my hips. I pulled out and pushed back in sharply, revelling in the yell the action dragged out of the man underneath me. I repeated the movement over and over, fingers curling harshly into the bedsheets and stomach tense as I pound into my emo pillow prince over and over.

"This good enough, huh?" I gasped out, grinning in satisfaction as Nico only nodded his head. He squirmed and twitched against Will's chest, hands grasping at my body wherever he could reach.

Will gently spread Nico's legs further, hooked Nico's knees over his own and suddenly Nico yelped, cock jumping against his stomach where it had been smearing precome over his skin. I grinned, aiming for that one particular spot again and again, reducing my boyfriend to a moaning mess of pleasure as he melted into the arms of our other boyfriend.

"There it is," Will cooed, teething over Nico's ear. "That's where it feels so good, doesn't it? Our baby, they're so good at this, found your prostate so easily, they know your body so well."

Both Nico and I flushed at the dirty talk, the sinful words of the child of Apollo who became an utter menace the moment he found out how his voice affected us. He kept going, muttering filthy things into Nico's ear just loud enough that I could hear him over the pounding of my heart in my ears.

"B-Babe, W-Will-!" Nico groaned, shaky hands clutching at the back of my neck. "Can you- please touch me, wanna come, 'm so close, baby, please?"

I snapped my eyes to Will, knowing that Nico might be too out of it to remember that Will didn't want to be too involved. "You don't ha-have to, sunshine, I've got him i-if you don't want to."

Will shook his head, smiling softly at me and dragged his hand teasingly down Nico's torso to palm at his neglected cock, flushed and weeping. "I've got him, I want to, we can make him come together, right?"

I nodded, breathless and beginning to chase after my own peak after focusing on Nico for so long. Will's long fingers wrapped around Nico's cock and I cried out as Nico's hole tensed around me at the touch, dropping my head onto his shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, need- need Nico to come first," I pleaded, ever the polite gentlefolk even as I was falling headfirst (dick first?) into pleasure.

Will's hand jerked and tugged almost ruthlessly at Nico, sending him spiralling into an orgasm. He thrashed between us, a soft scream ripping from his throat as he came all over himself, white streaks staining his pink, blushing skin. I pulled out of him quickly, giving a throaty, choked moan as I released over Nico's stomach, hips twitching against nothing as I bit my lip hard.

Nico's eyes were closed, lips parted as he panted, but he waved his hand about until he found my head, dragging me down into a fierce kiss. We kissed until we were dizzy, tongues tasting like each other and bodies settling down from the highs.

"Love you," Nico mumbled, words pressed against my lips and I thrilled at the admission, just like I did every time.

"Love you too," I whispered back, nose bumping into his cutely.

"What am I, furniture?" Will joked, earning tired laughs from both me and Nico.

"Very comfy chair," Nico hummed, tilting his head back to press clumsy kisses into Will's jaw. "Favourite chair."

"Love you too," I whispered again, this time leaving a kiss on Will's forehead and he blushed at the simple affection, rolling his eyes and kissing my cheek back.

He sighed quietly, looking down at the mess we made of Nico. "You know you're for sure gonna need another shower, right?"

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this truly got away from me, and i blame the fact that i've been reading so much quality smut fanfic. hope you enjoyed!

[kismets-barista]

Lil Brozone, Floyd- centric oneshot for y'all's enjoyment!

Spoilery for Band Together, so if you're still awaiting watching the movie I'd suggest waiting to read, my friends! Have a lovely night!

Five months, twenty eight days.

That’s how long it had taken him to be able to walk without having to stop for breath.

Floyd was fully recovering, slowly but surely. After moving back to Pop Village, there’d been nothing for him except plenty of rest, John Dory’s incessant mother henning (seriously, that guy was the textbook definition of Anxiety even if he continued to deny it,) and help from his brothers to recuperate. They’d laid off on any public performances, putting aside thoughts of the word tour for later on. Way later on. 

But today was the day. Finally the day they’d decided to put on a public performance, a day that had all of them on their toes with preparations for the five song ‘concert.’ The energy buzzing in the air was something Floyd had missed, but the troll could honestly barely concentrate on how excited he was as his chest filled with sticky, sludgy feelings of dread. The magenta-haired troll sat in front of his light-rimmed vanity mirror, staring back at the shock of white that ran from the roots of his hair and up to the middle. 

He thought he’d gotten over this. 

It wasn’t going to change. It was evident that his hair, along with himself, had permanently changed as a result of that capture. Of his death. 

And pretty much everyone in the village knew that it was a result of something. A bad something. 

Some of them, Cooper specifically, had outright asked. But he didn’t have the best buffer, so Floyd couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad. Others had given him looks, even staring as he began to get out of the house those first months. He could remember the eyes trained on him as John Dory slowly helped him along, talking about an adventure he’d gone on way ‘back in his day,’ as he liked to call it. Floyd had kept to himself, mostly, until John Dory noticed how quiet his brother was being and did something the younger couldn’t.

He stared back at the trolls. Sure, it probably planted the seeds of assumption that John Dory was every bit as standoffish as Branch used to be, but Floyd had to admire his brother’s determination to keep him comfortable. 

“Ten minutes til final soundchecks!” Mayday (Brozone’s stage director’s) voice cut through the silence, and Floyd jerked out of his reverie. He sighed, opening the drawer to his desk and fished through a thousand hair products and ties to pull out a fluffy, white scrunchy. Maybe pulling it up would help lessen the… amount of times people had to see his hair. Floyd let out another sigh as he pulled up his hair, staring himself down in the mirror as he twisted it every which way. “Come on… there’s gotta be some way I can make you look normal again,” he whispered fiercely, tugging on his hair harder as desperation bubbled in his chest. Every way he moved it, white, white, white. The young troll’s hands began to shake as he started to tie it up, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his breathing shortened. 

How could he go out there looking like this? It’s bad enough as it is, why did he think for a second that today would be any different with how he felt about this… this awful hair of his? 

He considered flaking on his brothers as his breaths began to come out in short gasps. A thousand different excuses flitted through his mind, and Floyd began to grasp at them, one by one. He wasn’t feeling well. He was exhausted again. He couldn’t catch his breath quite right - no, that one would send them into a panic, probably. The thoughts crescendoed, and Floyd yanked on the scrunchie a bit too hard. It snapped, and rebounded on his hand. Causing the duo-tone haired-troll to yelp in pain. He flicked his head in the air, waving off the sting before letting his head sink down to rest on the top of the vanity. He was getting himself way too worked up… this wasn’t going to help anything. He needed to do this show. Needed to prove that he was… fine. Well. As fine as he could be.

“This is for all the lonely people…” he whisper-sang to himself, voice breathy as he steadied his pounding heart. Pulling on his fingers gently. “Thinking that life has passed us by…”

“We won’t give up until we, drink from that silver cup, and ride…” Floyd’s voice tapered off as he frowned, momentum to sing even to himself puttering off. Today was supposed to be a happy day. But here he slumped, moping like someone had just kicked a box of kittens in front of him.

“Ride that highway in the sky.” The lyric lifted softly as a question, and the troll sat up and looked behind himself in confusion. His face lit up at the sight of Branch, his baby brother leaning against the doorframe with his arms loosely crossed against each other.

“Oh, Branch. Hey.” Floyd offered him a grin, to which his younger brother readily responded with one of his own. 

“Hey. Was looking for you. JD wanted us to have a little meeting or whatever before our final soundchecks for the show so I came to get you. How’re you feeling?” He asked while walking over, sitting near his brother. Taking in everything about the older troll, inquisitive blue eyes flitting over the top of Floyd’s hair and down to his toes.

“I’m fine,” Floyd shrugged, stretching as he stood. Paused as he realized that saying ‘I’m fine’ was not an appropriate response, as Branch had told him so many times before. Practically drilled it into his head, at this point. He cut Branch off before his younger brother could say anything by shaking his head and letting out a loud “I meant- I meant that I’m feeling really good. I’m excited for the show, I slept plenty last night so I’m not tired, and I stretched this morning so I’m not achy like I usually am when I wake up.”

He could visibly see Branch’s tightly-wound demeanor relax, and the younger troll stood to join his brother as they headed out of the dressing room.

“Great. Now come on. They’re not too far away.”

And it was only when they made it into the break room, overstuffed couches laden with throw pillows and the ground practically made of mismatched rugs that Floyd realized all of his brothers had hair caps on. They’d happily yelled out his name when he walked in, and Branch had guided the troll over to a couch to sit down before nodding at JD, who’d been chuckling at the fact that Floyd was staring at them as if they all had grown second heads. 

“How ya feelin’, bro-bro? Ready for BroZone’s big debut into Pop Village?”

“Well, when you put it like that, admittedly nervous. But excited, all the same. I’ve missed singing with you all, truly.” He smiled up at his older brothers, who, upon hearing that, all exchanged a look. They nodded at each other, and Bruce took a deep breath while reaching up to the cap covering his hair.

“Well, buddy, we’ve got a bit of a pre-show gift for you,” he started.

“We know how much your hair means to you, and how hard the change has been on you,” Clay continued.

“So we wanted to do a little something just to remind you that you aren’t alone, with how you’re feeling. No matter how hard it may be at times,” Branch finished, and all four of them pulled off their hair caps after JD counted down from three.

And Floyd instantly burst into tears.

Streaking through each of their hair was bold white streaks, the color dyed at the roots of their hair and stretching up and up, just like Floyd’s. It looked natural- how did they do that? 

A million thoughts were running through his mind, but Floyd couldn’t grasp at a single one as the tears continued to pour down his face. He reached out to them, and his brothers were all surrounding him, hugging him tightly. 

“Surprise,” Branch sang softly, and Floyd grabbed onto his arm, squeezing it tightly as he hugged him. He was making his best attempt to hug everyone, which, seeing as it was four full-grown trolls was a bit hard- but the appreciative smile that was plastered onto his face like the sun piercing through a veil of thick clouds was hard to miss. He continued to cry into the hug, emotions overwhelming him as he went from sobs, to weeping that had the four of them pulling him down from the couch and to the ground and up into their arms. 

It took him a few minutes to pull himself together enough to wipe his eyes, but when he did, Floyd gave his brothers the most grateful look he could manage. He didn’t expect to see them crying, too, but it was clear that he’d affected them by crying so hard- and, the fact that they’d already been having a hard time keeping it together even before surprising him with the monumental change. Trolls didn’t just dye their hair- tinsel and extensions were normal in Pop Village but to physically change it like that? It was almost taboo.

“Man, I love you guys so much. I can’t believe you’d just… do that. For me. It means… it means so much.” His voice wavered as he broke down into tears again, but forced himself to reel it in as John Dory patted his back with a big grin.

“Believe it, bro. We’d go to the ends of the earth for you, this wasn’t nothin’ but a stone’s throw across the water if you ask me.”

“What’d I do to deserve such good brothers?” Floyd laughed tearfully, and Clay ruffled his hair gently. “Some would say you were born into this family. And that’s how you got such good brothers.”

The younger troll laughed, taking his brother’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Okay, that was a little cheesy,” Floyd chuckled. “But I gotta ask, who…”

“It was John Dory’s idea,” Bruce boasted proudly for the older troll, who’s ears turned bright red as he looked away.

“Dah, anything for my little brother,” he tried to play it off. But Floyd wasn’t having any of that. The younger troll dove into his older brother, pulling him into a hug. He was followed by his four other brothers, who practically dogpiled him and fell on top of each other. A stunned silence befell the brothers before they burst into laughter, and Floyd could feel a massive weight he didn’t even know that was sitting on his chest lift and dissipate. And he knew right then and there that no matter how down he was feeling about himself, how bad everything could get at times, he would always have his brothers to rely on. There were going to be much, much brighter days ahead.

“I love you guys. So much.” “We love you too, Floyd. Don’t you forget it.”

And he wouldn’t. He never would. 

[whousestypewriters]

photos of you - grayson hawthorne x reader

pairing: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: swearing [like one word] kissing + flufffffff

a/n: so grayson my pookie wookie is getting a fic hehe! should i write a synopsis at the begining of each fic? idk im too lazy to do it rn lol -also its kinda short so sorry

"grayson!" you shriek when you enter his bedroom.

its plain and simple - like grayson - except nothing like grayson because anyone who's met him knows that grayson hawthorne isn't plain or simple.

he's smart, cunning, always sharply dressed - and man does he look good in a suit. like seriously he's so toned and muscly - which you may or may not know after having snuck out to watch him swim once... or twice... okay you do it all the time - he's like a freaking greek god in the form of a human-

sorry what?

got off track there. oops.

anywayyyy

you storm into grayson's room absolutely livid, pacing back and forth in front of a slightly amused grayson.

"like seriously she was such a bitch!" you say swinging around to face him again. "she actually called me the sloppy immature freak. can you believe it? like seriously that girl wouldn't know hard work if it gave her a high five... in the face... with a chair!"

you spin around again resuming your pacing continuing on before he can say anything.

"and to come at me during work-" your eyes catch onto grayson's open computer. "hey, what's that?"

all but forgetting your rant about the bitchy co-worker of yours, you move over to grayson's desk and plop down into his chair, focusing on the laptop in front of you.

"are these from our date last saturday?" you ask when you feel his presence at your back.

"yeah, i took a few and then had the flower stall vendor take some as well," his rich voice reaches down to your ears.

you flick through the photos your heart melting with each one he took. most are photos of you not paying attention to him and looking around happily at the park you were at. pure happiness shines in your eyes and you lean back into grayson silently thanking him and complimenting him on his work.

"its all you," he whispers as if he read your mind.

you instantly pause when you reach a photo of you both. you're looking at the camera smiling at the kind vendor but grayson. grayson.

he's looking at you like you're his entire world. like he'd willingly give up everything just to see you happy. the pure love, adoration and devotion in his eyes almost brings you to tears.

god you loved him.

"i like this one," you squeak out, still

"why's that?"

"because you can see how much you love me," you smile getting up out of your seat and wrapping your arms around his neck. "you look at me like i'm your world, gray."

"you are," he whispers wrapping his arms around your waist, smiling softly. you love how he lets this, softer, calmer, less rigid side of himself be shown with you. grayson is all sharp edges and cutting looks to the outside world, so it always seems to warm your heart that you get to be apart of this piece of him.

"i love you," you smile sweetly up at him and press a soft kiss to his lips. "so much."

"i love you," grayson says quietly. "more than you know."

later on when you've left, grayson makes quick work of emailing the photos off to a printing store, wanting you to have copies as soon as possible and making his favourite photo - the one of you grinning at the camera, or more like the person behind the camera, him - his lockscreen.

he'll never admit it to anyone else but he has always had a photo of you as his lockscreen, always, even from the early stages of your relationship. he had felt like he was keeping a small piece of you with him, a small piece of your happiness that seeps into his cold harsh behaviour when he's working.

so its a habit to save those pictures to the album he has on his phone and computer. its a habit to have the photos printed out and sent to your flat along with a bouquet of flowers.

its a habit to be grinning for hours in his room after you left.

its a habit to go scrolling through the albums and albums of photos he has of you. because honestly? out of all the places grayson has been, all the different photos and emotions he's caught on camera, out of all them,

photos of you are his favourite.

[taglist] @nqds, @nuncscioquidsitamor-14, @lxvebelle, @reminiscentreader, @ [if you wanted to be added or removed lemme know!]

a/n pt2: lol i think it kinda deteriorated at the end there.