#small rivals crumbs :')

[astonmartinii]

bite the hand | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem musician!reader [face claim: clairo + clairo, boygenius and taylor swift music]

having fans are great, but sometimes it goes to far and you have to bite the hands that feed you

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 913,551 others

tagged: beabadoobee

yourusername: howdy ladies, gentlemen and all that's in between, it's single release day. i had so much fun on this track with bea and getting to pour all of my love for maxy onto such a cute melody... hope you all enjoy my loves x

view all comments

user1: YES THANK YOU MOM THIS IS JUST WHAT I NEEDED TODAY

landonorris: how many letters in devoured?

yourusername: ATE 💅

landonorris: ate and left NO crumbs

maxverstappen1: why oh why did i ever introduce you two

yourusername: because you love us both?

maxverstappen1: i sure love you, jury is out on lando

landonorris: boooooooooo

user2: ugh if y/n had to date an f1 driver why couldn't she go for one of the hot ones like lando or charles?

user3: for real like bro he just drags her down

user4: you can't be serious? he's a professional athlete at the top of his sport and by what they show us a massive softy who loves y/n? why would we want anything else for her?

liked by yourusername

user5: y/n will NOT stand for any max bashing idk why you guys try it every time

maxverstappen1: so unbelievably talented and the artist of her generation

yourusername: maybe it's because i have a top notch muse ?

maxverstappen1: NO NO IT'S ALL YOU YOU ARE THE ARTIST I AM JUST LUCKY TO BE IN YOUR VICINITY

yourusername: i am the lucky one baby

danielricciardo: leave your cute shit offline i already have to hear it all of the time let me be on instagram

yourusername: nope love my boyfriend too much

maxverstappen1: nope love my girlfriend too much

user6: they're so insufferable i love them

user7: this song bangs so much more when you pretend it's not about ... him

user8: bro is acting like max verstappen ran over his puppy

user7: sorry i don't want a GREAT artist and BEAUTIFUL woman being dragged down by THAT

user9: you are insane, you do not know y/n, you enjoy her music, that doesn't give you the right to have power over things in her personal life

user10: you people are why this fanbase has a bad name and before long y/n will get fed up too

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 829,043 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: the off weekend spent right

view all comments

user13: i need a man so obsessed with me that all he does is post my face

user14: crazy that all this guy does is wax lyrical about how much he loves her and she's like never at his races ... interesting

user15: and her weirdly entitled fanbase say he doesn't deserve her when she clearly doesn't support him as much as he supports her

yourusername: i love you and our soft little weekends, i wanna do it all the time :(

maxverstappen1: gosh our day jobs are really quite unconventional i guess we should just retire to a remote island to live on a small farm?

yourusername: you said it not me i just wanna be anywhere with you

maxverstappen1: i love you <3

user16: RETIRE TO A REMOTE ISLAND? SOMEONE TELL THIS RAT THAT IF HE IS THE REASON WE DON'T GET MUSIC WE WILL RIDE AT DAWN

user17: babe have you ever thought that maybe the reason he said that he wants to retire away from everyone because you people stick your noses in all the time

danielricciardo: @yourusername a soft weekend you say? how many hours did max spend on the sim?

yourusername: a solid ten but he even let me have a go

danielricciardo: oh wow that man really is in love

maxverstappen1: i think she'd rival a couple of you with some practice, i'm working on getting her to join redline

user18: ugh this is so annoying... preaching like you like spending time with your girlfriend and then spend it all playing a video game and letting her have one go?

user19: the sim is something f1 drivers use to train? if anything max probably shouldn't have let y/n have a go she could've accidentally changed the set up or other things

user20: i'm seeing charles and lewis training this off weekend and he just lies in bed with this girl? he really needs to ditch her to stay at the top

user21: literally two comments up is them talking about him training on the sim the jealousy is insane from both fans at this point

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 893,442 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: happy to take home another win in mexico, i love this track and am forever thankful to this team and my loved ones.

view all comments

user25: holy shit idk what f1 can do but the paddock looked insane today there's no way that is safe for the drivers and personnel.

user26: there's so many videos of people rushing max and although some of them look like max fans who are just excited but there were a lot of very rude rival fans trying to get too close for comfort

yourusername: forever proud of you !! you're like jimmy and sassy with zoomies on crack <3

maxverstappen1: that is the highest of the high compliment thank you my love

yourusername: champagne is on me girlypops no expense spared for the love of my life

redbullracing: do we all qualify as girlypops ???

yourusername: of course !! don't think i didn't notice the supply of vegan pizza rolls you truly are the lactose intolerant allies of the grid

user27: can she stop spending all her hard earned money on this scrub that just uses her

user28: bro makes millions in a year he doesn't NEED her but that doesn't mean he can't want her? you guys are crazy

user29: some of these fans need to do some serious evaluation, drivers are not zoo animals, they are people and deserve respect and that includes respect to their personal space.

user30: for real like why was brad basically having to act as a body guard for max and y/n

user31: this was such a dangerous event for max and y/n. they're both very famous individuals and should be able to move around the paddock without being in danger.

user32: max joked about getting a body guard for this weekend but i think he should seriously consider it especially is y/n is coming to more races while she's not touring

danielricciardo: it has been brought to my attention that y/n has stated that she will spare no expense, i am making a formal enquiry into whether this will cover my bar tab?

yourusername: i will within reason but only because your bffs with maxy and will drink the fruity lil cocktails with me

danielricciardo: REAL men drink cocktails

maxverstappen1: do NOT disrespect the humble gin and tonic on my post

user33: i'm glad they're in high spirits after the shenanigans in the paddock today and the booing towards max :(

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, maxverstappen1 and 1,442,776 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: there is no full way to articulate my feelings right now. my fans have to respect my personal relationships and my boundaries. i appreciate your support but you have to understand that i am not your personal friend and you do not have the right to my personal life. i also understand that in sport, there are a lot of heightened emotions, but drivers do not owe you their safety. this is something i have felt for a long time since max and i became a public couple and the onslaught of hate came for him. you may say that it comes from a good place, or for my best interests, but the manner in which some 'fans' have expressed their 'worries' is unacceptable. i do not want to bite the hand that feeds me, but there's only so many slaps me and my loved ones can take from the hand.

bite the hand is out on all streaming platforms. please listen closely a re-evaluate your relationships with your favourite artists, thank you.

comments are not available on this post.

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,220,664 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you and i will never let other people tell me when i'm not enough get in my head again. we both appreciate our support and acknowledge that we would be nowhere without it. but our relationships are ours, please respect this.

comments are not available on this post

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,344,229 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: okay sad songs are important but it's now time for me to sing my wee little heart out about how much i love you and how i know we were always made for each other.

i love you maxy, invisible string is all about my muse. out now.

view all comments

user41: IT BANGS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

user42: ffs i guess we're stuck with this man for life now ...

user43: LISTEN TO BITE THE HAND AND BANG YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE WALL AND HEAR THE PINBALLS OF YOUR BRAIN GOING CRAZU

user44: speak your truth sis

maxverstappen1: ISN'T IT JUST SO PRETTY TO THINK THAT ALL ALONG THERE WAS SOME INVISIBLE STRING TYING YOU TO ME

maxverstappen1: so true, you make me believe in soulmates YOU ARE MY SOULMATE I LOVE YOU

yourusername: i love you to the moon and to saturn for real

yourusername: and that thread of gold is made from all of your trophies LET'S GO RAHHHHHHHH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU

maxverstappen1: the gold of that grammy @thegrammys yall heard bags?

user45: the way they're each others wags and completely embrace it

user46: i love that they're still their goofy asses they don't give a shit abou t yall

user47: y/n dropped a heart wrenching track and immediately went ... but hey i'm SUPER happy and that's all you're going to hear

landonorris: so like can y/n remix the dutch anthem so we can actually bop every weekend

yourusername: i kinda wanna marry the king of the netherlands so maybe not

landonorris: you broke up ?????

yourusername: no you dumbass max is the king of the netherlands

maxverstappen1: not factually but i do have a medal from the royal family so same thing

landonorris: why do you guys have to clown on me every time

yourusername: you're like our baby brother it's our duty

maxverstappen1: sorry not sorry

user48: you could never make me hate them they're made for each other

user49: finally bite the hand shamed the crazy bitches into finally shutting the fuck up

note: i love bite the hand i actually fear it might be my fave boygenius song and i recommend it to everyone. i actually did my university dissertation on parasocial relationships with athletes so like i feel like a good couple of sports fans could do with a listen to bite the hand. hope yall enjoyed and had a good weekend !! (chelsea gave me a heart attack but what's new, even though i was too sick to go to the game:()

[ronearoundblindly]

No Promises (3)

Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

I Left You Something On The Body (see previous or LH Masterlist)

Summary: You and Lloyd take to leaving consolation prizes for whichever one of you 'loses.' It...escalates delightfully.

Warnings for DARKFIC. Language; descriptions of sexual situations, toys, various paraphernalia. Smut-adjacent (masturbation). MINORS DNI. I have plenty else for you on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 982

And you do; you let Lloyd have several open contracts after the keycard incident.

Sometimes you wonder about the man providing the most fun you’ve had in years, but mostly, you relax in a noisy city high-rise with a spectacular view. A small vacation between assassinations. You drop off the network for a month or so, picking up a straight-forward job nearby, and then show up at the target’s house to find him already dead.

Pinched onto the body, overtop a blood-soaked button-down, are golden nipple clamps.

You snort in disbelief.

The sick bastard, he’s really wooing you now.

A thin chain between the clamps sports a tied tag.

To: The Cobalt Cunt

You let out a dreamy sigh, the little tingle in your mind of possibly fucking (with) him again vibrating to life. You even miss him in a weird way.

On the reverse of the tag, it reads, “not safe for lace.”

It’s on obviously and more fun than you ever imagined. At some point, you can’t tell if you two are letting each other get places first on not. The money is, oddly, totally irrelevant, and your career takes on a renewed joy.

Lloyd claims a target. You show up, kill them, and drop off an intricately-packaged Gucci jock strap with “Eat Me” embroidered at the back of the waistband, right above his asshole.

For good measure—and to remind him what he’s missing—you add a spritz of your perfume to the cup.

That’s where you want to be nestled, it implies. That’s where you belong, right against his dick.

Sadly, the next ‘surprise’ takes a while as you two are not after the same jobs. There’s plenty of work to go around till you find an oblong box wrapped in brown paper on the armchair ten feet from an enormous bloodstain.

 With an empty scotch glass and a crumb-covered plate beside it, you know Lloyd’s been trolling for your attention. His snacky, sweet-tooth is somewhat notorious.

Your inconspicuous, purposefully plain gift waits patiently, the soft whipped cream of a strawberry shortcake dripping down its serving stand.

There’s no rush though, and you make a little ritual of opening it to reveal a beautiful dildo with golden speckles throughout the silicone molding. It is absolutely from a cast of Lloyd; you’d know that curve anywhere.

If that’s as close as you can get? Fine by you…

The rest of him barely participated before anyway.

Geneva.

Lloyd’s pissed and tired after the flight. Suzanne is the fucking worst and made him repeat the plan three times because her pea-brain is as sharp as a limp dick.

He dances down the plane steps, noticing a welcome party that is not his people. One sunglasses-clad, black-suited fellow walks up to Lloyd with an enormous gift basket.

It’s so goddamn pink Lloyd recoils and squints his eyes.

Good christ, it’s hideous. He loves it in a sick way.

Pink cellophane, fuzzy pink handcuffs, a sparkling fuchsia cock ring, rose gold anal beads with pesto-colored rope connecting them, and strawberry flavored lube.

Mood restored, Lloyd chuckles, turning on his heel to get back on the plane.

He’s going home. He has toys to play with.

He doesn’t bother to explain shit to Suzanne. One of these days, he’s just going to pop her for free.

This one doesn’t coincide with a job at all, but that’s what makes it all the sweeter to you.

Delivered to the place you’re staying for the week is an adorable, yellow stuffed rabbit with a pull-cord. Across its tummy is 'sunshine' in cursive letters.

You honest-to-god squeal in delight as you listen to each of the five custom recordings programed in.

Lloyd tuts then says “should have sized up my ring, you cock-drunk whore,” a deep gasp and a squelch punctuates the end.

Oh boy. It’s Christmas in July. Happy you!

You fake your own shocked gasp at the second soundbite.

“Know you don’t taste like fucking strawberries,“ he grunts before bitterly adding, “but I’ll take one for the team and eat that pussy any day.”

Third: “Bet I was the best you ever had, even when I wasn’t awake, you poor thing. So needy…”

Fourth: “How hard did you come, Sunshine? Be honest.” He laughs like the cat who got the cream to end that one.

Finally, the last of the pulls is just the slapping noise of him jerking off and finishing with a deep moan.

Now, at least, you know what Lloyd sounds like when he comes.

Utterly self-satisfied, Lloyd goes about his life of luxury.

He’ll be damned if he’s going to break and go to you. Fuck that. The thrill of this taco-and-hotdog game is worth it anyway.

He still works, and not every job revolves around you.

For one such fulfilled contract, he’s being paid in artwork and has the delivery men bring in the large framed canvas to uncover in his current villa’s sitting room.

The expectation is a well-known portrait.

It’s a painting alright, but it’s…very modern.

Lloyd crosses his arms over his chest and smothers a proud grin.

The torso and open legs of you stretch out facing the viewer, gold leaf embossed nipple clamps and their chains dangle over your stomach, and the blunt end of a golden dildo sits nestled in your cunt. There are brush strokes and paint visibly raised from the surface.

He wonders whether it was done from a photo or whether you sat there, bare, for some artist to reference for hours, maybe even days.

Lloyd had a spot in mind for his real payment, but this will do nicely. He’s quite pleased with the view. It shall go over the mantle in the bedroom, and he shall fuck whoever he wants—his fist included—while staring right at it.

The half dozen or so other people in the villa’s great room who can all see the painting don’t say a fucking word.

How the hell is he supposed to top this?

A/N: Full disclosure, I'm pretty sure this is the funniest thing I'll ever write, and I'm okay with that. I can't stop laughing 🤣🤣🤣

[Next Part: A Blazer Full of Bullet Holes]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

blue art deco divider by @/saradika-graphics--thank you for your beautiful work!

[yestrday]

do u have ayato or heizou crumbs 🐦

you might like: genshin hybrids au

let's do some hybrid crumbs because i miss my animal harem:

ayato 🦈

while ayato's lounging around the house, ayato has a bluish-grey tint to his skin with scales covering some parts, often at the end of his limbs, his temples, and his neck. he's got rows of small yet sharp teeth and a long scaly tail coming out from just the end of his spine.

ayato has been living at the mansion even before the mansion was built. minding his business... chilling in the lake, till some construction workers ruined it for him. he would've honestly ripped them all to shreds if it weren't for the fact that he saw cute lil you peeking out from behind your father's back

he shares the lake with most of the water-based animals, although he has a territorial feud with neuvillette. he knows it's a losing battle for him though, so ever since the water dragon moved in he's been hanging out at the mansion more often

if there's the unofficial security team (glorified stalkers) then there's the sortaaa official education team. your dad commissioned zhongli to take care of your homeschooling and prepare you for your debut in society. zhongli has appointed ayato to brush youu up on etiquette

as with all the other tail-having animals in the mansion, he also likes to wrap his tail around your legs. but while their furry tails evoke a sense of comfort and warmth within you, his sandpaper-like tail makes chills run up your spine.

to make matters worse, he likes scaring you with his spiky teeth. they might be small, but they're numerous, and the teasing glint in his eyes make you second guessing what he might do. he often likes to nip playful little bites along your skin while you're cuddled on his lap. if you squirm too much and distract him from his work, he bites you as a warning. he often gets scolded by thoma as the dog hybrid patches up your wound.

kinda has a bad rep in your house. he doesn't show his face often, and when he does he likes to pull small pranks that he doesn't even bother owing up to.

heizou 🦉

around your house, heizou's hybrid form has two puffy reddish-brown wings protruding from his back and feathery talon-legs. in the dark, you can often spot him thanks to his round, glowing eyes.

there's a village on the foot of the hill where your mansion resides, and heizou is pretty famous around there. there's no thrilling mystery there, but he likes to help out people find their missing pets and whatnot.

when your managerial team (neuvi, zhongli, ayato) needs to sleuth something out (get dirt on your rivals <- usually ayato, try to protect you from possible danger <- neuvi & zhongli, get the upperhand <- ayato again), they often go to heizou. he often takes the commission with glee (moreso if ayato commissions it)

enjoys his position on your shoulder, though he has to fight most of the avian hybrids for it. he makes these pleasant hoot noises whenever you scratch his head juuust right. when he's feeling a bit mischievous, he will suddenly pop into his human form so he can squish you under his weight

makes these hoot noises in between his words, has a slightly higher pitch when pronouncing 'oo' sounds. he doesn't quite care much about this habit when he's in the mansion, but in more human company he finds himself slipping a bit and gets embarrassed about it.

doesn't really care much for preening his feathers, but the other avians pester him about it so it still gets preened. he thinks he can do more useful stuff than just sitting in a circle with the other avians and preening each other's feathers.

a bit flirty with almost everyone and anyone under the sun. he doesn't fail to throw flirty remarks towards the other hybrids just to mess with them, but he gets a bolder when it's with you. no matter your personality, you've still got a bit of naivete thanks to your sheltered upbringing, and he likes to take advantage of it.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic Rivals AU])

Hiii! It’s been a second cuz I’ve been so busy, so I apologize. So enjoy! Not proofread

(L/N)-Last name, (Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, mentions of death, fake stab wound, comfort/hurt/comfort, Miguel being mean :(

Word count: 3k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 9: What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

—

“Did you forget the next line? It’s: Thus with a kiss I die…”

You let out a groan after a moment realizing his hesitation, getting up from your lying position on the floo as you open your eyes, causing Miguel to scoot away from you from his kneeling position over you.

“Why’d you stop?” You asked curtly as you crossed your legs, raising a brow up at him.

“I’m not gonna kiss you, (L/N).”

You had finally gotten Miguel to show up to do a practice run of the scene, the presentation was happening in the following day, and thankfully you’d both practiced it apart, but the odd tension between you both you still couldn’t desphire wasn’t helping the process go on any easier. Countless pauses and time-outs, you two have been going through the scene over and over, like a broken record that kept falling over into the same scratch devit, skipping, repeating, but never finishing.

“Does it look like I’m jumping at the idea, O’Hara?” You countered as you grabbed the pillow you had placed on his carpeted dorm floor and placed it onto your lap, taking your hair out from your hair clip before reaching to place it on his nightstand, deciding it was too unbearable to lay on any longer before continuing. “We’re not gonna make out with each other in front of the whole class. It’s just a small peck.”

“Oh like how that kiss with Spider-Man was a ‘small peck’.” Miguel was too busy doing air quotes for him to catch the pillow as you threw it at his chest. His eyes rolling at the childish act while you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment at the memory.

It’s not like you regretted it or anything, it was just annoying when he brought it up.

“Okay, whatever. We can fake it-what’s that thing they do in theater?-oh stage kiss. We can do a stage kiss.” You suggested but Miguel's facial expressions clearly show he had no idea what a stage kiss was, making you groan and roll your eyes as if it was common knowledge. “Do you know what that is?”

“No, I’m not a geek unlike you.”

“That’s ironic coming from the science nerd.”

Now it was him rolling his eyes with a scoff.

“Are you going to explain it or not?”

“Okay, okay.” You put your hands up in defense as you shift to sit on your knees, before going to explain. “A stage kiss is basically just a kiss for the stage, but we can make it look like we’re kissing without our lips actually touching.” Miguel raised a brow, a silent ask for you to explain further. “Like, you tilt your head a specific way or you put your thumb on my lips and you kiss your thumb.”

Was Miguel’s next question a risky one? Maybe. Did he want it to be an excuse to get close to you again? Maybe, even if he can’t get the sweet relief of tasting your lips again, he’ll take whatever crumbs you’ll toss his way. Even if he had to pretend he didn’t enjoy it. So with a quick clearing of the throat, he shifted a bit closer, careful to not startle you as he approached you as if you were a wounded animal.

“May I?”

His felt his heart began to pound a little bit faster as he watched confusion cover your face for a split second before you realized what he means, and he thinks for a second you’ll say no with the way you bite your bottom lip ever so subtlety in a way he doesn’t think even you notice, and the way he noted your hand fidgeting with the hem of your shirt despite not breaking eye contact, but eventually you nodded.

“Okay…”

Your voice was soft, meek, gentle, something that it never was towards Miguel. It took all of him to not rush towards you and kiss your lips for real, but he knew better. So with slow movements, silence envelopes the air around you both. It was very faint, the way the atmosphere in the room shifted as he placed his hand on your side of your face. Praying to god that he didn’t feel the way your jaw flexed as you swallowed the lump in your throat as his thumb grazed and stopped in the middle of your lips. His eyes dropped to them for a split second before they were back on you, and finally, they closed as he leaned in. Warm spreads through your body, seeping into the pit of your stomach, as your eyes naturally close as well. Despite his thumb separating you both, you can still feel the phantom presence of his lips on yours. In your head, they tasted like Spider-Man’s.

After a while, you felt him finally pull away, bringing you back down to earth as you blink up at him, if it wasn’t for the dark lightning in his dorm you would have both noticed the fleshing in his cheeks. He cleared his throat, “Like that?”

“Yeah, like that.” You nodded as you tried to play off the whole situation nonchalantly. “Let’s try to go through the whole thing, and when you die on me don’t rest all your weight on me please? You’ll crush me.” You attempted to lighten the mood with a joke as you took the forgotten pillow and placed it back to its original spot. Grateful when you heard him stifle a snort under his breath.

—

He should stop this.

He knows he should.

He’s made a habit out of it now, and habits are hard to break. You’ve even started to keep your widow unlocked for him, how could he resist himself? It’s obvious you wanted him to stop by. So, here he was, outside your window. You having just left his dorm not even a full hour ago, your hair clip and copy of Gravity’s Rainbow still sitting in his dorm where you left them, forgotten on your way out the door.

He always had this small mental battle with himself as he slipped his finger through the small crack in the window. Knowing how dangerous it was to get you involved with Spider-Man, if he wasn’t careful, it would only lead to danger. Still he couldn’t help but continue to spin his web, entrapping you in it without you none the wiser. He was given the opportunity to become closer to you in a way he couldn’t as himself, and he’d be foolish to not take advantage of it. At least, that's what he told himself to justify his actions when finger finally pulled your window up almost every night.

He didn’t see you at first, and it made his chest tighten in panic, but the feeling quickly died down, once he heard the doorknob to your front door open. He let out a sigh of relief when he realized he had gotten there before you. When you opened the door to your dorm you let out a small startled yelp when met with the familiar red and blue costume, you hand shooting up to your chest to help calm down your shot up heartbeat once you realized the intruder wasn’t a threatening one.

“Jesus… you scared me…” You mumbled as you closed and locked the door behind yourself.

“Sorry about that, I didn't know you were out.” He lied as he shot a glowing web to turn on your overhead light, you not even flinching at the moment, having grown accustomed to it, despite your many pleas to not web up your room for the sake of convenience.

“I told you to stop doing that. You know how long it takes for me to take that off? It always sticks to my hands.” You whined as you went to try and take it off, and Miguel couldn’t help but let out a laugh as it does, in fact, stick to your hands.

“Here I got it…” He murmured as he moved to takes your smaller hand in his, picking at the webbing under the neon red no longer covering your palm, once it was cleaned, he turned it over and placed a small kiss over your knuckles.

“Thanks.” You said with a small smile once you pulled your hand away. “I can’t stay up too late, I have that-“

“That project tomorrow, I know. You’ve been talking about it non-stop.” He interrupted, causing you to laugh. “It’s fine though, I shouldn’t let our little visits cut into so much of my patrol time anyways.” He admitted, a faux hurt expression fell over your features.

“If my company bores you, you can just say so-“ You were silenced by a web covering your mouth, knowing despite his face being covered underneath his mask, he was giving you a playful smirk. You gave him a glare as you attempted to rip them from your lips.

“Shush. You know, for a smart girl, I’d expect you to not say stupid shit like that.” His head tilted slightly, before he walked over and ripped the webbing from your mouth, letting out a small hiss at the sensation as you went to soothe the area with the back of your hand.

“Do me a favor.”

“Hmm?”

“Wear a coat tomorrow, we’re going to take a little trip.” Was all he said before he slipped back through your window, not even letting you respond back to the request, as you stood there in confusion, just staring at the open window.

—

“O happy dagger!” You grabbed the toy retractable knife that was in Miguel’s pocket, raising it in the air with your right hand, while he played dead in front of you. “This is thy sheath:” You were thankful that Ms.Covey had turned on the harsh stage lights, flooding out the rest of your classmates so it gave the illusion of empty seats, although they couldn’t distract you from the occasional scribble of a pen on paper from your teacher in the otherwise quiet room. You bring the toy knife down and press the fake blade against your abdominal, faking a grunt of pain as you slowly push it till it sat flesh against you, before putting it back away from you. “There rust, and let me die.” You finally finish and you succumb to your faux wound, collapsing onto Miguel's torso.

After a beat, applause spreads through the air, making you release an unknown breath that you were holding in your rest and you finally getting off of Miguel, both of finally standing up as the stage lights dimmed slightly enough to reveal your teacher.

“Good job you too, nothing but the best as always-“ Her praise was interrupted when the bell rang, signaling that class was over, causing all the students to fill out and off to elsewhere. You quickly go to grab your book bag from the wing of the stage, a big grin on your face as you weave through the crowd, feeling accomplished as you try to catch up to your rival to congratulate him.

“Hey! O’Hara!” You smiled brightly as you caught up to him, ignoring the side eye he gave, too focused on the project you both nailed. “We did so well! I was surprised that-“

“Oh my god why are you still pestering me?” He hissed, turning to glared daggers at you that made you falter. “All you do is pester me!” You took a step away from him before even registering the movement in your head properly. He looked so pissed off, it was a bit unnerving, you had done a lot worse to make him upset and he’d only ever give you back a sarcastic comment or something along the lines of friendly fire. How did doing well in a project together be the thing to set him off?

“Sorry-sorry, I just wanted to say that I’m glad we-“ You didn’t get to finish before being interrupted again.

“Can you just shut up.” You were glad that the once full courtyard was now barren, reduced to only you and Miguel. You didn’t need prying eyes on you to worsen the humidity of Miguel ripping you a new one for seemingly no reason. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting from the sun or your brain short circuiting from confused and slight fear but you swore Miguel’s brown maroon eyes looked almost as if they were growing a more pure red color.

“I’m-I’m sorry...” Your words fell on deaf ears as your face once again with Miguel’s back, watching him walk away.

He always walks away.

“What’s your problem with me? I understand we’ve never really gotten along with each other but you're acting like you hate me.” The pit in your stomach disappears once it was swallowed up with the anger that started to seep into you, taking a few steps towards him.

“Because I do hate you (Y/N).”

I’m in love with you (Y/N).

“I hate the way you’re always around.”

I love the way I know you’ll always be near.

“I hate how you always try to one up me in class.”

I love how you challenge me, I haven’t been challenged in a long time.

“I hate the way you quote your stupid poems and books you always read.”

I love the way you’ve changed my perspective on the world.

“I hate you.”

I love you.

“Your voice.”

Your voice.

“Your laugh.”

Your laugh.

“I hate everything about you.”

I love everything about you.

You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t let him see the way your eyes started to sting with your forming tears, so you walked away.

—

He didn’t know why he couldn’t shut himself up. Why he kept spewing false garbage from his mouth, he couldn’t handle it anymore. The lies, the confusing feelings, the late night visits. It’s all too much, he couldn’t get himself to leave you alone. He needed to push you away, as far away as he possibly could. That includes Spider-Man.

But…

He knew he wouldn’t be able too, and that’s why the second the sunset turned the sky from its usual blue to orange and yellow hues, he found himself outside of your window, pulling up your window before he felt the guilt from his words earlier swallow him whole.

“Your favorite spider is here-“ But unfortunately, the guilt ate him up anyways when his eyes immediately fell on your figure, curled up in a ball with your face stuffed into that fox plushie of yours, small whimpers leaving your slight shaking form. “Hey…Hey… what’s wrong?” He didn’t need to ask, he already knew what was wrong, and you didn’t answer, didn’t even look up as you shook your head, opting to bury it deeper into white tummy of the stuffed animal, it surely damp with your tears.

“I don’t wanna talk about it…” You croaked with a sniffle, and Miguel let out a heavy sigh as he carefully approached your bed, taking a seat at the edge where your legs were curled up, and began to rub soothing circles into your back.

“We won’t talk about it then…” Miguel was afraid if you did, mostly because he wouldn’t know how to react. Taking a beat of silence before bringing his hand up to your chin, and lifted it gently for you to face him. You retaliated with a small whine before moving to hide your face once more.

“No, I don’t want you to see me like this, my-my face is are all red and puffy, my mascara is all fucked up, and-“

“Hey,” His hand goes to your chin to turn it towards him once more, but this time you didn’t move it away, although your eyes didn’t meet his, “look at me.” After a moment you did. “You are the most beautiful…” You looked away with a giggle, his hand he was holding you with turned your head towards him again as his gloved thumb came up to wipe away a lingering tear. “beautiful…” he repeated, “amazing… most intelligent and wonderful women I've met.”

“Thank you…”

“Of course, now get up.” He said as he stood up from the bed, grabbing the fox from your arms and placing it where he was just at on the bed, chucking a bit when he noticed the confusion on your face. “What? Don’t tell me you forgot about your surprise, did you?”

“My surprise?” He nodded with a hum as you slowly sat up, and went to place on your shoes.

“Yes ma’am, put a coat on we’re gonna be swinging there.”

—

“Dontdropmedontdropmedropme-“

“I’m not gonna drop you.” He laughed.

“I’m never gonna get used to swinging!”

“Well you better try!”

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Not yet… gonna place you down first…”

You had no idea where he was bringing you too, the only clues you had were the noise of Nueva York that surrounded you, which wasn’t much help. You let out a sigh of relief when he placed your feet down onto a solid surface, most likely a rooftop.

“Are you dizzy?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes just let me open my eyes please.” You laughed as you reached out towards the sound of his voice and hit the air around him as a signal to hurry.

“Alright, open up.” You smiled as you did so, and once your eyes focused on the view in front of you, you let out a gasp.

“You did not…”

“I did, do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it. Thank you, thank you thank you!” You quickly pulled him into an embrace, one of his hands went to the small of your back as the other brought his mask up to his nose, before pulling you into a kiss.

In the distance, in front of the orange and yellow hues that illuminated the sky, was the Brooklyn bridge. Sprawled across the cables were three words written in red webbing.

I love you.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini @cowboylikeevie @thedevax @codenameredkrystalmatrix @strawberryjuice9 @maomaimao

[angel-of-the-moons]

Please, I am begging you, a scrap more of Naga!Leto, a crumb, a TASTE.

(Please know I am just being dramatic, I know your requests are closed, I'm not actually asking or expecting anything, I just wanted to know I have naga!leto brainrot right now and I love you <3)

Hehehehhe I am so glad you liked it! So here's a couple lil headcanons about Naga!Leto!

Headcanons about Naga!Leto.

TW/CW: Fluffy stuff, Smut, NSFW Headcanons, Leto is a tad possessive but most nagas are, egg stuff!

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Lmao would you believe I am actually writing this shit at a church rn. I am so blasphemous. Forgive me sky daddy, I've been bad uwu

Divider by @/plum98

SFW:

Leto, as a naga, is very very into physical affection. Be it public or private. Your body as a human runs warmer than his does, so you can often find him holding your hand--or, if he catches you lounging in the sun--laying on you, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he begins to drift off for a blissful nap.

He will always make sure you're fed. Nagas don't typically eat much. They always will eat large meals once to three times a month. It isn't unheard of for them to skip meals for one or two months. But Leto knows humans aren't like that. So catch him sneaking you snacks, or bringing you dinner to enjoy privately in your bedchambers.

His bed is massive. If he were human, it could fit the two of you plus five other people at least. It has to be large, for him not only to share with you, but to make room for his long serpentine lower half to coil up.

Speaking of coils, Leto will sometimes sleep at the foot of the bed, his upper body straight up with his head tipped back against the soft cushions of his bed, his coils wrapped loosely on the floor. During days that are too hot for you, he will let you sleep in the mass of cool scales, his lower temperature being almost like an ice-pack for you--whilst your body heat is wonderful for him. A win-win.

Swimming. Deep beneath his palace, there is a deep reservoir of water. It is the only way they have survived all these centuries, tapping into the underground rivers and bathing in the mineral-rich water. Leto is an avid swimmer, moving like lightning when he is in the water.

If you are swimming with him, Leto will take the pace slower, letting you drift alongside him or hold on to him to let him pull you along like some sort of gorgeous missile.

Loves your laughter, any joyous sound coming from you is music to his ears.

The only thing that could rival your voice; is the voice of his children. The babies that came from the eggs you so dutifully carried within you.

When you "clutch" the eggs, as the Naga call it, Leto is by your side alone. Laying a clutch is something deeply personal, deeply intimate. Shared typically between mates, or even their older children if they are comfortable with it. He will rub your back, cradle you in his coils and catch every egg that comes from you, placing it carefully within the small creche he himself built for you.

Is insanely territorial around you and the eggs/babies. The moment he was positive the eggs were fertile, Leto hovered around you like flies around fruit. He didn't mean to hover, not at all, but it was simply his instincts telling him to be ready to defend his mate as you carried his future offspring.

When the eggs are snug perfectly in their little creche, kept safe and warm, Leto is constantly on the verge of lunging towards them if he senses anything's amiss.

Oh, Naga eggs squeak, when they're about to hatch by the way. The moment he heard them begin to shake and squeak in the dead of night, he awoke you excitedly and you both shared the quiet, loving moment of your firstborn together poking a tiny chubby hand or tail through the shell of their egg.

When the babies hatch? Oh, the man is over the moon. He adores them, as much as you. Immediately brings his older children to see their new siblings; coo'ing and letting them slither all over them as they investigate these new people and form their familial bonds.

Nagas tend to carry their children around with them in slings; warm and cosy so they can nap during important affairs in the event he believes you need a break.

If you have the babies, however, Leto will gladly come straight to the five of you, scooping all of you up in his arms to deliver kisses.

Loves your body; even in the aftermath of the babies. Will kiss every stretch mark and apply body oil to ease and dryness or cracks in your delicate skin; so much softer and delicate than his own.

(NSFW UNDER THE CUT)

NSFW:

Leto prefers to have sex with you cradled against him, safely propped in his coils for him to move you as he wishes.

Will not object if you wish to be on top, he loves watching you bounce and ride his cock as though it were the only thing keeping you alive.

Adores your breasts. Naga females usually tend not to have them; only those with a little but of human ancestry will have them as a result of a genetic throwback (yes, if a human carries Naga eggs some of their genetic material is absorbed by the soft squishy eggs while they develop and harden!); so he loves to hold them squish them, or just play with them in general.

And when you are carrying his eggs? Ohhh boy. The man is smitten for sure. The way your body changes, swells with new life... It's like a potent drug to him.

While you are carrying Naga eggs, your body produces the same hormones that you would as if it were a normal human pregnancy. Which means you produce milk. Baby nagas are about as developed as maybe a 7-month-old at best, and they have most of their teeth. So they are prepared already fresh out of the egg to eat solid food. But what does that leave you with, when you are producing milk for babies that don't need it?

Well, more for Leto, that's what. He adored your breasts before, but the man enjoys greatly when he can wrap his lips around your nipples, suckling every sweet drop he can, the arousal almost too much for him to bear as you moan and writhe as he relieves the built-up pressure in your breasts.

As a result of that... Well. It takes a while for your milk supply to go away. If at all, because of how often Leto will pin you somewhere private, rip your bodice down and drink his fill.

Sometimes, Leto will take you down to his private pool, and make love to you on the smooth stone shore, washing you off with the life-giving restorative waters afterwards, massaging your sore muscles.

Almost always prefers to finish inside of you. That primal instinct again demanding he fill you up as many times over as he can, whether you are carrying eggs or not.

Oral? He definitely prefers to give rather than receive. Nagas have fangs, female nagas tend to have the larger sets than the males do, so orale for them is almost always restricted to their very long, forked tongues.

The first time you went down on him, he thought he died and went to heaven. He never thought he would enjoy the blunt teeth in your mouth scraping his length as your fingers massaged the silky interior of his sheathe, teasing the tip of his ovipositor as you sucked him off.

After that, Leto will very awkwardly come to you if he has an urge. If you don't have time for a quickie, or if the children are asleep and you are trying to be intimate in a hurry, Leto will cradle you, pull your panties aside and hold you so you both can race to see who makes who cum first.

Loves to mark you. Be it with claws or teeth (dry bites of course), he will do so. Another instinct Naga have to let others know their mate belongs to them and to stay away. As if carrying his children and his family crest was not enough of a deterrent. He has to make sure, you know. Just a precaution...

Loves to feel your nails and blunt teeth dig into his skin as you try to do the same, relishes the bruises you leave on him and wears them proudly like badges, despite your embarrassment when your family comes to visit. Why is your face red? Why are you looking around and not making eye contact? Don't humans mark their mates, too?

[callme-darling]

all these ppl in ur asks talking abt Pierre has me tweaking thinking about a continuation of ur rival!pierre fic where he picks a fight w u in front of everyone then goes on to worship u when yall r alone 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the cow prince & the dairy queen (pt.2)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: rivals with benefits dynamic, pierre is a bit of a prick, smut, little plot, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, mentions of alcohol, pls let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this isn’t really a finished piece, but pls accept these pierre chavanges crumbs🙏🏻 (side note: this is lowkey FILTHY)

you can find pt.1 here

it had been a few weeks since yours and pierre’s fling in the pasture. a part of you was content to leave it as that—a one time act of lust; nothing more, nothing less. you both seemingly went back to your respective work; tending to your own farms with little more than an occasional nod or glare in the others direction depending on the day.

you would have been happy to never speak of it, let alone think of it. it seems, however, your happiness is irrelevant when it comes to circumstance.

fabrice was hosting a small, informal get together for the community. well technically another of his friends put it all together, fabrice simply agreed to host it at his house. and just about everyone in town was invited; including, of course, pierre chavanges.

initially, you were going to decline the invitation, but it was rare to see anyone else these days, and rarer still to be able to talk to them for more than a fleeting passing-by. so you agreed and gave fabrice a kind thanks before hanging up the phone. and now you stand in his yard, mentally kicking yourself to be so naive to think this was a good idea.

all was well for the first half hour or so. you made amiable conversation with some people you knew, some you didn’t, and the plastic cup in your hand was a comforting weight of liquid courage. yes, all was well—until you heard a loud chorus of cheers come from near the house. instantly, you smile fell when you saw whose presence was the cause for the ruckus.

you secretly had hoped he would decline the invitation, much like you almost had. but, also like yourself, he must have felt a keen obligation to his friends to at least make an appearance.

and almost immediately, your eyes met. his eyes narrowed in on you, like a predator singling out the weakest of the herd. you finish your drink and slide into a thicker part of the crowd, hoping to get the pair of lingering eyes off of you.

for nearly an hour you succeeded in avoiding one another. but then, as the party gradually began to taper off and more people began to head for their respective homes, you were drug into fabrice’s kitchen for a ‘final round’ before officially calling it a night.

and to everyone’s surprise, and your dismay, pierre had managed to stick it out too.

everyone was in boisterous conversation while you studied the contents of the cup in your hand, the earthy beer a little musty to your tastes.

“say, y/n-“ you’re pulled from your thoughts by one of the guys, “you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. don’t tell me we’re boring you.”

you force a small laugh at the jest, your eyes briefly glancing around the small room, unsurprised to find pierre looking straight at you. “no, no,” you shake your head, reclining your hips against the counter. “just been a long day.”

“the queen probably finds our conversations below herself.” the guys laugh heartily at pierre’s cheap jab. you just roll your eyes, you and pierre are easily the most sober in the room, so you excuse the others. but your glare finds pierre’s easily.

his tall friend picks up on the animosity quickly despite his inebriation, his eyes glimmering with drunken glee as he points, “ooh c’mon guys. let’s not fight, you’re both equally insufferable when you get like this.”

“i’m perfectly fine. i’m afraid it’s your friend who can’t get off his high horse.”

pierre doesn’t break eye contact as he tilts his head slightly, “she’s right. we should be nice to her majesty. we all know she’s had a rough season, after all.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean, chavanges?” your grip tightens around your cup enough to make the thin material crackle.

everyone else seems to catch the tension in the atmosphere shift from friendly pestering to something more hostile. everyone but pierre, whose lips ever so slightly twitch into a shit eating grin.

“what do you think it sounds like?”

you hold his hard stare for a long moment. ‘it’s not worth it’ you decide. you turn slightly to pour the remnants of your drink into the sink. “it sounds like it’s time for me to excuse myself.���

the boys make sounds of disapproval, some of them throwing their arms up at pierre in a silent complaint of ‘what the hell man?’, but pierre only kept his steely eyes on you, an air of indisputable satisfaction behind his expression.

you’re walking along the dirt road that’ll take you home when a set of yellow headlights illuminate your shadow. you shuffle to the side of the path, nearly standing in the shallow ditch when the vehicle slows to a stop just behind you.

“get in, princess.”

you roll your eyes when the distinct tone of pierre’s voice hits your ears. you ignore him and begin walking in the direction of your house again. a strong gust of wind wips past you. instinctively, your arms wrap around your midsection as you grumble under your breath.

pierre merely inches his truck forward, it’s muddied wheels creeping alongside you. “c’mon, get in the truck. it’s freezing.”

you grit your teeth. “i’d rather take my chances freezing then, thanks”

he chuckles and the sound nearly has you seeing red. “go the fuck home, chavanges.”

it didn’t matter how cold you were, or how nice a ride in the warm truck cab sounded. you were not so desperate to grant him the gratification of doing you a favor, no matter how minuscule.

“christ y/n,” he practically growled in nothing short of annoyance, “get in the fucking truck.”

you stop walking, a huff of warm breath dissipating into the cold air. you stand against the cold wind for a moment longer, feeling his eyes rake over you from behind. then with a resigned sigh, you wordlessly stalk to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door.

neither of you say a word as you slip into the seat, but you can feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you finally say.

you catch the way his tongue prods the inside of his cheek before he starts driving along the quickly darkening road.

“you’re really pissed?” he asks after a long stretch of silence.

you’re looking out the window, forehead resting against the cool glass. “you’re really an asshole?”

“come on now, don’t be like that.”

you chuckle at the audacity of this man, though it comes out more like a scoff. “i take it back. you’re a piece of shit.”

“mm, that’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning my name,” he says flatly. “though, it has been a bit so maybe my memory is getting foggy.” and the pointed look he gave you left you with no need to discern what meaning lurked under the surface.

you held your breath as you leveled his gaze. the tension in the cab was oppressive. it took a good moment for you to realize he had parked his truck in one of the pull-offs. your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“tell me, princess,” you hated how your stomach fluttered at the way he said the nickname you hated so much, “does it make you angry when i do that?”

“you’re going to have to be more specific,” you breathe out. “you do a lot of things that piss me off.” you mentally curse when you catch yourself glimpsing to his lips.

he grins. “do you hate when i call you out, give you a hard time? does it make your blood boil?” he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s leaning closer, his eyes sharp as they scan your face. “and does it make you angrier knowing that the guy who gets you so riled up is the same guy you let fuck you in a field a couple weeks ago?”

you swallow, jaw clenching as you turn to look out your window again. then in a moment of stupid courage, likely fueled by the traces of alcohol still running in your veins, you ask the first question that flashed in your mind.

“is this your way of saying once wasn’t enough for you?”

“yes.”

his reply was quick and void of any hints of deception. your lips parted when his answer shocked your system, instantaneously leaving you at a loss for words.

he gauged your reaction, eyes searching yours. when you say nothing, he sighs, though it’s more blasé than irritated. “you know, you’re real annoying when you go quiet like that. for all the complaining and whining you do, i know you have something in that little head of yours you want to say.” he reaches across the console of the truck to gently grab your chin. “yes or no?”

you didn’t need any further context to know what he was asking. you chew on the inside of your lip, chin titled ever so slightly by his thumb, and nod once.

“that won’t do.” he clicks his tongue and murmurs lowly, “use your words, princess.”

you lean in close, eyes steady on his as you whisper, “you can fuck me, chavanges, but i won’t beg.”

his eyes glinted with an unsaid challenge. the thumb holding your chin brushed over your bottom lip, the featherlight touch submerging your stomach in water. “we’ll see about that.”

when he pressed his lips to yours, you swear your senses completely shut everything else out. his movements were slow, languid, as his lips moved in time with yours. his tongue gently nudged past your lips.

even now, you can tell there’s been a shift since the time in the pasture. pierre was much more deliberate and subdued.

you could feel yourself leaning more into his touch, the top half of your body nearly laying on the center console. his rough hand found your jaw and pulled you even closer with a muffled groan.

you straddled his lap in the cramped truck, your ass threatening to bump against the horn until two hands pulled your hips securely on top of his. “fuck, you’re pretty like this.” the combination of his throaty compliment and his fingers digging into your hips had your breath hitching.

eyes half lidded, you peer down at him. your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you keep your face hovering over his. “what would you do if i just up and left? just got out of this truck of yours and left you here like this.”

pierre have you a cheeky grin, unadulterated confidence gleaming in his eyes. “we both know you wouldn’t.” he leaned close so his lips tickled your ear, “i fuck you too good for you to even consider it.”

“then you better not disappoint, chavanges.”

his grin only grew, grip on your hips moving to cup your ass. “don’t you worry, princess. just let me take care of ya.”

“oh? is the prince feeling chivalrous?”

a hand on your neck has your eyes fluttering as he whispers against your warm skin, “i suggest you be nice.” then his lips were on your throat, tongue teasing the sensitive flesh while his teeth nipped little red marks across your chest.

you fingers are in his hair as he undoubtedly leaves marks that won’t fade for a couple days over your skin. you’ll be irritated tomorrow, but for now you allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of his fleeting touch.

his large hands gave your ass another squeeze, grinding you against his jean-covered, half hard cock. you always hated how your body betrayed you, the way you can feel your pussy practically soaking through your panties and onto his lap.

pierre groans underneath you, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head, his other hand unclasping your bra with a fumbling grasp that only added to the heat of the truck. his lips abandon your neck in favor of your tits. his eyes watched you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the sensitive nub under his tongue. his palm groped at your other breast, fingers teasingly pulling at your skin as you whine.

his mouth pulls off you with a minute wet ‘pop’. he grinned up at you, eyes no doubt studying the growing blush on your cheeks. “y’know, you sound prettier like this than when you’re bitchin’.”

you tugged his hair, a warning.

he ignores it. “fuck.. i can’t wait anymore.” it’s embarrassing, how your pussy clenched around nothing at his words. your chest shone with the warmth of his spit as his breath fans across your skin. you shudder as his fingernails skim up your arm and down the front of your collarbone. “gotta feel that little pussy of yours, been too long.”

the transition to you shimmying your worn jeans down your legs was anything but graceful, but pierre didn’t seem to mind as his own hips raised to deftly push his own pants to his thighs. the windows were already beginning to fog over with a sheen of warmth. you both took a moment, chests softly heaving in unison before pierre’s hands rubbed along your ribs and waist, wordlessly soothing the nerves crawling over your skin.

he brought his face closer to yours again, his nose nudging the column of your neck before inhaling. “been thinking about this since that day.”

you’d sooner take yourself out to pasture than admit you’d been the same. you could practically feel his sick twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers, the heat emanating from his body making your mind hazy. you whine despite yourself, pussy clenching around nothing when his finger traces over the elastic band of your panties.

“pierre, don’t tease.” it’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out breathier than needier than you anticipated.

his touch becomes more assertive, borderline experimental, as his thumb dips to the front of your crotch, easily ghosting over your clit while his eyes watch you with a glimmer of piqued enthusiasm. “are you in a rush?”

his warm breath paired with the tentative touches makes your eyes flutter. “i wanna take my time with you, this time.” finally, his long fingers tug the slick material covering your heat to the side. the calloused pads of his fingers tease your wet folds. you flush with a bright heat when the only sound in the truck is the audible wet clicking coming from pierre shamelessly playing with your soaked pussy.

your head falls to pierre’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as your hips twitch to meet his hand. there’s no doubt your bottom lip is gonna be bruised with how you’re biting into it, but it does little to stop the pathetic sounds from reaching his ears.

“fuck..” his low groan sends sparks down your spine. “you’re so fucking wet, i love it…”

as if to emphasize his words, he slips two long fingers into your dripping hole. your hands clutch onto his shoulders, nails pricking through his shirt but god- you were both so pent up at this point, any humiliation only added to the desperation.

pierre’s lips pressed a wet kiss onto your shoulder. the feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your cunt doubled with the material of your soft panties catching your clit with each shift of his palm, you were made pliant in a matter of minutes.

“god… missed this,” pierre stifles a groan when you clench around his fingers embarrassingly tight, “so much.”

a hand on your throat drags your face to his and his mouth is on you before you fully register his fingers leaving your heat. you’re holding back a whine when he finally frees his dick, blushed an angry red and leaking pre, from his boxers. your eyes are fixated on his cock and it only strokes his ego.

pierre’s breath warms the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you can deny it until you’re blue in the face, but i know you’ve been thinking about how i fuck you everyday since the field.”

you drag your gaze to meet his and even in the darkness of the truck cab, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

his thumb smears the precum from his tip down his shaft as he gives his cock a pump before you lift your hips. your head falls back slightly as you sink down onto his length. you both breathe softly when you finally bottom out, and it takes everything in you not to start bouncing on his lap.

instead, you bite back a small moan and give the man beneath you a heady glare, “you better not fall for me, chavanges.”

he returns it with a toothy grin, mouth already coming to hover over yours. “i definitely won’t fall for you. i just love to hate you.”

[kisses4lao]

Hiiiii remember me? (Sorry for the tardiness)

You know what to do!!

Mixing these two together because I can GRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH

Very much pure and wholesome (lie)

Cw/tw: afab reader, usage of she/her pronouns, very much dom Lilia, degradation, very public sex so public people are watching YOU, yes you, get fucked, it's just a lot of foreplay no penetration beyond that, public humiliation, lilia curses at you bc you suck, consent isnt discussed beforehand but you're enjoying it, kind of short don't kill me lol, mentions of blood

Not proofread

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe snooping in your generals tent wasn't the best of ideas.

You were sent by a rival clan to find out what General Lilias attack plans were, and hopefully find out inside information about the war. You had been a troop for around a month, keeping your distance from the other troops as you knew it wouldn't end well if you got close.

Lilia had expected something off about you, you smelled of rivalry, as he put it, but he really just needed new troops. You finally decided to strike at night, Lilia as well as the others were out at the campfire conversing while you snuck into your generals tent. Since everyone was preoccupied with beer and s'mores you thought it would be the perfect time to see if he had a journal or any sort of information.

Unzipping the tent and slipping inside, you light up a small lantern and start looking around. Opening his bags, looking under his blankets, there was nothing, not even a crumb. You frantically started looking, throwing his stuff around the tent as the thought of all the time you spent waiting going down the drain set in.

"looking for this?" You hear an all too familiar voice from behind you, sending chills throughout your whole body. Your eyes widened as you realized you were caught red handed and you were at the mercy of your general. As you slowly turn your head to face him, you could feel his eyes staring at every move you made. He was holding a book, specifically his book.

"You're trying to find my battle plans so you can bring them back to that filthy clan of yours. I know you. I know everything about you. I knew the second you joined the troop you had plans on betraying us. You're filthy, a disgusting pest. I really should take care of you."

He roughly grabs you by the collar of your uniform, dragging you to the campfire as you kicked and screamed for him to let you go. Your whining quickly attracts the attention of the other troops as Baul told everyone to line up. Everyone scrambled to their feet as they were aligned in a military like fashion, awaiting further orders.

Lilia had dragged you to the front of the line as everybody had turned their attention to you. "This troop decided to betray us. She was caught red handed in my tent looking for battle plans. I don't take traitors lightly, so I will be getting back at her in the best way possible. Public humiliation." With that last statement, everyone looked severely confused, especially you, who continued to try and get out of his tight grasp.

Baul looked at Lilia as if he was insane and he very calmly tried to talk him out of doing whatever he was about to do, but to no avail. He ordered three troops front and center, two holding your arms and another one holding your right leg while Lilia held the left.

"If you want to act like a traitor than I'll give a night you'll remember for the rest of your pathetic fucking life." He says as he rips apart your shorts and throwing them in the campfire. He doesn't do the same with your panties, however, instead he ripped the bottom part so none of his troops could see you except him. As the loose ends of your panties dangle in the wind, Lilia bites his middle and ring finger nail short. This is public humiliation, not public torture(not in a sense at least).

He drags his fingers up your folds to gather your juices, "Wet. Such a fucking slut to be this wet over something as indecent as this." He furrows his eyebrows as he plunges both fingers into you at once, relishing in how tight you are. He really should've eased himself in but he convinced himself it was for the better to be rough with you. The troops had to hold your limbs tighter as Lilia began to thrust his fingers in and out of you.

You began to squirm around and cry once his thumb found itself circling your clit. Your moans and whimpers had increased in volume as he started going deeper inside you. "Stop your whining. You sound like a whore." He begins to make scissoring motions inside you, making you cry out even louder.

"Baul. Get over here." He practically shouts at the man as he quickly runs over. "Get behind her and cover her mouth. She's not allowed to speak unless spoken to. Understand?" Lilia looks at Baul with pure concentration, he nods as he makes his was behind you, wrapping his hand tightly against your mouth and effectively silencing you.

Lilia continues his movements and as he begins to feel your body shake and the tightening around his fingers, he looks up at you. Baul let's your mouth go and Lilia prompts you to speak. "Beg." He says coldly. You begin to whimper, "please..." You say in a half whisper.

"what was that? Sorry, I couldn't hear you. And if I couldn't hear you they couldn't hear you either." He nudges his head behind him, reminding you that you're in front of his entire clan. "Please General.. please let me cum..."

"Say what you did wrong." He said with a grin on his face. You grit your teeth together in frustration. "General please! I snuck into your tent and I looked for things I shouldn't have! I'm a traitor, a filthy, disgusting traitor! Please general, please let me cum!" He seemed pleased with that as he began to curl his fingers inside you at an extremely fast pace, watching as your face contorted in pleasure.

As he continued, he kissed a small part of your thigh, biting into it after. As blood began to trickle down your legs, you came on his fingers. Lilia stops his movement and licks up the blood, slowly pulling his fingers out and standing up. "Drop her." His troops do as he says and drops you on the ground, letting you lay on the ground and recover from your high.

Lilia goes back into his tent as he contemplates what he should do with you. He reorganizes everything you messed up as he remembers your juices are still on his fingers. Licking them up, his eyes roll back at how delicious he found them. Maybe keeping you around won't be such a bad idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I need to go to bed

[moonbonanza]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆ creased between smiles

featuring: the red bouquet

summary: in fleeting dreams & fantasies; it may be true that a knight's face must always be smiling but asking for them to purse up their lips just for the sake of your curiousity may be a teensy bit greedy, see...

୨୧ a sincere smile: hallritt is a little perplexed by your strange request to bare all his teeth and grin like his life depends on it. he's familiar with carrying out orders and fulfilling duties but this small plea seems a little different in general. but if a smile is what you want then he'll gladly oblige! it is a lovely smile brimming with amber warmth and moist red that he flashes at you, even bending closer so that you can count all his dimples like stars. you do your best to stifle a giggle at his efforts to please especially when he's always smiling to begin with! oh, hallritt.

୨୧ a beguiling smile: slender fingers hooked underneath his chin and eyes shimmering with delight at the promise of a brand new game, merold pretends to be honoured. his words in response ring ever so soft and polite as always yet you know the searing gaze drumming into your skull is cautious of what is to come. all the same his lips quirk upwards once the realization that no one would ever quite dare to indulge in cat & mouse with him hits. an enchanting smile frigidly strung together by a cupid's bow mouth flits across his cheeks in an all too brief moment. your only complaint is that it seems more of a sneer than a smile but surely you weren't expecting something more without offering anything of your own in return, now were you?

୨୧ a mellow smile: while it may take a few attempts to douse puruth of his lingering daydreams, he is more than happy to listen to whatever you have to say. his features are already painted with laughter, eyes already shaded so crinkly & bright - that the very thing that you had wanted to ask for dies at the tip of your tongue, flying straight out of the window. his manner is innocent as he watches your mouth part and unpart in short quick intervals of trying its best to figure out something else to say, to offer up a plausible excuse of sorts. patience dances at his lips as do yellow sunbeams as he continues to give you the wonderful gift of smile after smile without quite knowing that he has placed exactly what you wanted at your feet.

୨୧ a dainty smile: even fragrant roses pressed against one's teary cheek cannot rival a happy romarriche. a dulcet caress traced across lithe hands and fingers, climbing all the way up to his pretty face is enough for him to flush pink. it's almost impossible for him to deny anything you beg for after that especially when your touch consists of the lightness of rosy peaches and cream. why your wish for a smile- his smile no less- is so adorably precious to him! a delightful curve of his mouth that gradually eases its way across his lips is every bit as alluring as all the flowers you plucked from strangers' gardens in his name. but unlike all those flowers, this one rose was yours to keep; to stroke the petals of over and over again until you fell into a sudden fit of melancholy over the nature of its unattainability.

୨୧ a hungry smile: ever so demanding and prone to noisy tears, rimicha has the makings of a mini spoiled princess. he does not care at all if the praise he keeps getting from you is insincere or even biting, cake crumbs are still cake! so when he pulls onto your sleeve like a bratty little girl and screeches in that insolent tone of his about how you haven't been paying him any attention lately, you resist the urge to pull out your hair follicle by follicle. in your desperation, you practically implore him to smile for once in his ill-will life as a way to shut him up - surprisingly, it works. a stunned cheshire grin stretches his sharp teeth apart as he preens over how much you must like his smile more than anyone else's. a bitter quip finds itself on your tongue but you decide to humour him for once especially if it means you don't have to witness any more flailing dramatics for a while.

୨୧ a dazzling smile: sanah has no shy bone in his entire skeleteon and this trait definitely makes for some interesting conversations. with his hands resting neatly behind his lazing head, some of his curious questions may come across as either awkward to answer or near impossible with your limited amount of knowledge regarding things you have no interest in. and yet his heart and smile is always on raw display to you as it is to everybody else in turn. if you ever happen to be in a terrible mood, his usual smile begins to get bigger and brighter and sunnier until it is amplified to one of the shiniest things you have ever laid eyes on. there's no need to ask, his smile belongs to everyone.

notes: going off of translations here & what little i can infer myself, should have waited until we know more fragmem-wise but couldn't resist writing lol... i'll probably come back to revise this later if i feel like it's rlly inaccurate promise >_<

[lumitytakes]

Happy Covention anniversary (7/2), here are some Lumity crumbs. (Part 1)

1. Amity's squealing is adorable, and Luz is looking at her like “Oh, I see her again!”

2. After the Abomination incident, Luz still shows her empathy and friendliness while Amity is just being so confused and irritated here.

Not Amity rejecting the handshake. Luz rubs her knuckles after being swatted away by Amity, girl just wants a handshake 😢. And even though Amity walks away, Luz still follows her.

3. The Everlasting Oath.

Let's talk about this scene. Amity can just stand still in the same position and say threatening words, she doesn't have to walk closer and press her face close to Luz's like that. And Luz, when Amity walks closer and moves her face close to hers, she doesn't even step backwards. I even thought they were gonna kiss!

And about the handshake in the Everlasting Oath, Luz's hand is stiff for a few seconds, then she holds Amity's and shakes it back. The oath is already sealed, Luz doesn't need to do that but she still does (it makes me giddy, ngl 😃)

After shaking hands with Amity, Luz's hand is still lingering there for a moment. What is Luz thinking about? Maybe thinking about how small Amity's hand is

4. The Magic Duel.

Luz, instead of acting as threatening as Amity, just awkwardly waves at her rival.

Despite getting off on the wrong foot, Luz still cares about her opponent's safety during the duel. And when Amity gets exposed for unknowingly cheating, Luz is the only one who is genuinely worried for her. After the Abomination incident, Luz knows a top and proud witch like Amity hates cheating the most since it ruins her reputation and achievements. She even chases after Amity to explain and comfort the green-haired witch.

[chunkypossum]

I guess I'm working on this too... someone stop me from starting things before I've finished other things...

Snippet from Wildfire

Azriel X Eris Modern AU

Summary:

Azriel wants out of the crime life and finds the perfect opportunity to leave after a tragedy leaves the fate of his family unknown. He tries to pick up the pieces and live a quiet life. The only problem? After his brothers fled the leader of a rival family takes special interest in Azriel and the skills he is famous for. Tarquin claims Azriel is on the hook for a debt his brothers owed and Harasses Azriel at every turn.

Will a job that sends him into the dense woods of Alabama finally mean the escape he is looking for or will his past come back to haunt him in a new way?

Eris is am avian expert at a local wildlife refuge. Rising quickly to become head of his department, his colleagues respect him but don't know a lot about him. He is careful to protect himself and his past, working hard to create a new life for himself after finally escaping his father. It took a terrible tragedy to do it, but he finally managed to find a safe place to build a new life, or so he thought. The arrival of someone new in town challenges not only the peace he has carved out for himself but his desire to run from the past at all.

═══════════════*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*══════════════

Azriel may have taken last night's cheap fuck for granted. The guy cleaned up after himself and had quietly disappeared before Azriel even stirred, leaving a plate of food behind on the counter.  Smiling to himself, Azriel tore off a bit of buttered toast with his teeth. It was clear that he had left Azriel’s apartment pretty early. The toast was slightly soggy and cold by the time he had woken up but that didn’t matter much. If it hadn’t been there, Azriel probably wouldn’t have eaten anything at all. There was a note pinned to the counter by the plate. Azriel slid his fingers over the surface of it as he read the short sentence.  To soak up that whiskey.  Complete with a small winking smiley face scribbled in the corner. Simple, sweet and entirely too close to something real. Azriel’s smile slowly faded until the spark of that amusement had died completely. He crumpled the note in his hands before tossing it in the trash can and started to tip the paper plate into the trash too before stopping himself. The frown on his face deepened and a sigh blew past his lips, mocking the absurdity of the urge to toss the food just because some guy wrote a note. Azriel stood at the counter for a few more minutes, forcing himself to finish every crumb. Surprising himself further, washed it down with a glass of room temperature tap water instead of bourbon.

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 3

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary:  "I’m an empath, not a mind reader. If you really want there to be no secrets between us then we’ve got to start actually talking to each other. Beginning with why the hell you have a murder map in your office.”

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, references of dead bodies + suicide

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford

Author Note: Thank you so so much for all the kind support 💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Office

You’re spitting the last remnants of toothpaste from your mouth when Banjo shoots down the hallway, a brown blur in your peripheral. Last you’d seen him, a mere few minutes ago, he was curled up on his memory foam bed in your room, ready to retire for the night. You stick your head out the doorway, wondering what’s got him riled up.

The little mutt sits outside Rockford’s office, pawing at the wooden door. Since moving in, the two have developed a close bond of their own (although you have a sneaking suspicion based on the crumbs you keep finding in Banjo’s beard, treats from the bakery below might be at least partly responsible), and it isn’t unusual to find Rockford lying on the living room floor scratching the dog’s belly or carrying him around like a small, furry child. 

“He’s gone, bud,” you tell Banjo, a sympathetic frown on your lips. Despite the light beneath the closed office door, you’d heard Rockford leave the apartment shortly after you slipped into your pajamas. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to either. The slamming of the front door was enough of a clear indicator he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

A twinge of something sharp pulls at your chest, sour on the back of your tongue, but you shove it down. Banjo’s still pawing insistently, softly whining even as you draw closer with a disapproving tutting sound.

“There’s nobody in there, Banjo. C’mon, it’s bedtime. Let’s go to sleep, lil doggy.”

Usually Banjo’s well-behaved, following basic commands without issue, but every once in a while his stubbornness rivals a fence post, refusing to comply until you give in to his wanting.

Exhaling a quiet sigh, you reach for the knob, anticipating it to be locked so then Banjo will see nothing else can be done. 

Except the knob twists in your grip with ease.

Huh. You blink dumbly at your hand for a second, then make the mistake of looking down at Banjo’s body wiggling with excitement, tongue lolling. Great, you heave another sigh, knowing he won’t let you sleep until he sees inside.

Still, you hesitate to open the door. You’ve never been in Rockford’s office, never wanted to interfere with whatever it was he was working on. It feels like an invasion of privacy to go in when he’s not home. But…You bite your lip, curiosity prickling in the back of your mind. A little peek wouldn’t hurt anybody. For the sake of your sleep schedule, you have to prove Rockford isn’t there.

The hinges elicit a squeaky groan as you push the door open. Banjo takes advantage of the smallest of gaps to beat you into the room, too impatient to wait for your cue. 

Maybe that’s why you’re slow to register what’s on the pinboard at first. Eyes too busy sweeping the floor for Banjo, finding him snuffling at the edges of Rockford’s roll top desk as if the oakwood and scattered documents provided the answers to Rockford’s whereabouts. You shake your head at the scene, endlessly amused at both your little mutt’s antics and your roommate’s inability to keep his personal items tidy.

Well, that’s not exactly fair, you reassess your opinion while taking in more of the office. There are still too many books than the shelves will allow, piled up in a tilting stack one heavy sigh away from toppling over, and there’s a family of dust bunnies beneath his leather chair—but the pinboard with its crisscrossing red strings connecting article clippings to sticky notes and crime scene polaroids of dead bodies is proof Rockford can be organized. 

It’s also proof there’s still a helluva lot left to learn about him.

Your mouth goes dry, thoughts tripping over themselves and smacking around the inside of your skull in their mad attempt of providing a logical explanation of what the hell this thing is. Because it looks like an evidence board, like a prop straight out of a police drama with photos of actors and fake blood for the sake of fictional storylines.

Except everything on this pinboard is real. You don’t need Rockford’s confirmation to be certain—you’ve seen enough dead bodies to disturb your sleep for decades, immediately recognize the dim lifelessness in their eyes with one look. Like a burnt out bulb. There’s no faking that. 

And being real makes the question why this pinboard’s in his office all the more unsettling to wonder.

You don’t know how long you stand there, looking between the disturbing newspaper reports detailing a string of suicides unfolding sporadically throughout the city over the last eight months and the even more disturbing photos of the victims. Could be minutes, could be hours. Banjo sits by your leg, yawning, but you can’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away, unable to make sense of Rockford’s scribblings on pink and yellow sticky notes. 

It’s not the handwriting itself—in comparison to Dr. Odair, Rockford’s got the penmanship of a god, every stroke precise and purposeful—but rather, his staunch belief that there’s a connection to be found linking all the incidents together despite the total lack of evidence suggesting one exists.

Just when you think the man can’t get any more strange…

The sound of the front door opening yanks you out of your thoughts. Banjo barks happily, racing out the open door to greet Rockford, and you can feel the precise moment your roommate realizes where the dog has come from, that his office door is now open. You expect the ping of surprise, but what you don’t expect is the easy wave of acceptance following afterwards. There’s not even the faintest buzz of annoyance at breaching his privacy. 

His footsteps draw closer, murmuring quietly to Banjo about it being past the pup’s bedtime. Your hands subconsciously curl into fists, tension digging into the meat of your shoulders in defiance of the calm mood. You’re self-aware enough to know you can’t go to sleep without answers, can’t pretend you’re not freaked out by the pinboard and all its darkness.

Swallowing thickly, you turn to face the doorway. 

You have to know the truth. 

And the only person who can provide it has just walked into the room, brown eyes bright and crinkling as he laughs at your dog. 

The Truth

“I’m surprised to see you’re both still awake,” Rockford says in lieu of greeting, toeing off his shoes and kicking them in the direction of his desk.

You’re thrown off by the neon glow of his yellow socks. Are they always such bright colors? Seriously, they could be used to land planes.  “...what?” 

“Usually you’re out like a light by ten thirty.” There’s a ripple of something then, bright and tactile, rubbing up against your mind-gift like an overly affectionate animal. It’s gone before you can determine its name, vanishing in the wake of a sudden spike of concern so intense it grates against your nerves, pushing the air out of your lungs. “Did something happen while I was out?”

You watch his eyes dart about the office, lines of mild alarm creasing his forehead. Your shoulders remain tense, awaiting an outburst from the man about sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, but when his gaze finally locks onto yours all you can see, all you can feel is concern. 

“Roan,” he prompts, clearly worried by your lack of response.

“I was getting ready for bed, but then Banjo decided he couldn’t rest without seeing you one last time. He thought you were in here and I knew you weren’t but still–” you flap a hand at the dog, silently conveying he’s a stubborn little furball. The same hand then awkwardly scratches at the back of your neck, fighting back a grimace as you continue, “And well, the door wasn’t locked so–”

“It’s never locked,” Rockford interjects, frowning now. 

Your mouth hangs open for a beat, searching for words before at last managing a quiet, “Oh.”

One of his eyebrows lifts, a perfect arch expressing the confusion you sense muddying the waters of his mindscape. 

“You did know that, didn’t you?” he asks the question slowly. Asks it like he already knows the answer and is dreading hearing it confirmed.

You clear your throat, gaze briefly dropping towards his socks again. “Not really, no.” 

“Oh,” he echoes, brown eyes losing some of their shine. “Really? I thought you…” he shakes his head, cutting himself off. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is you know now, my office has never been and never will be off limits to you or Banjo.”

“Are you always this open with people?”

“Not with people, no. Just you.”

“Because we’re matched?”

He nods. “Way I figure it, if we really are two halves of the same whole, then it doesn’t make much sense keeping secrets.”

That elicits a scoff before you can stop yourself. “Uh-huh, right.” You point an accusing finger at the pinboard. “Then at what point were you going to bring that up?”

He glances at it, brow furrowing. “You mean my murder map?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Did you seriously just call it your murder map? What the hell?”

“I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Rockford’s head tilts, eyeing you up and down. “Unless…” Realization sparks and fizzles followed by a sheepish look crossing his face. “Unless this is something else I never mentioned before?”

“No, Rockford,” the pitch of your voice borders on shrill causing him to flinch, “owning a fucking murder map never came up!” You force yourself to take a deep breath, cooling some of the fire prickling along your skin. “I’m an empath, not a mind reader. If you really want there to be no secrets between us then we’ve got to start actually talking to each other. Beginning with why the hell you have a murder map in your office.”

A long, painful pause follows.

You hate it, but you’re not going to be the one to break it. You’ve spoken enough, now the ball’s in his court. Except he’s just looking at you, mood so torturously still. Every second ticks by at a snail’s pace, and something an awful lot like panic is squeezing your heart, and you start to think you’ve screwed everything up, pushed too hard, crossed a line that can’t be forgiven–

Rockford moves closer, looking you straight in the eye, nearly toe to toe, and you try your best not to shrink. “You’re right,” he says at last, a quiet confession wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “For as much as we talk, we rarely actually…talk. And that’s my fault. I’ve been on my own for a long time. Long enough I’ve forgotten how to be known by someone else.”

It takes a second or two to remember how to make your lips move, how to form words. “I–” you take a breath, and try again. It has to be just right for him to understand. “This is all new territory for me too. We both have room for improvement.”

He cracks a wry smile at that, inclining his head close enough to note a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “Two halves of the same whole, yeah?”

Some of the tension drains from your frame, offering him a small, crooked grin of your own.

“To answer your earlier question about why I have a murder map,” Rockford continues, stepping around you to gently run a finger along one of the red strings, pausing at the end where a thumbtack holds a photo of an alleyway in place. “I’m a consulting detective.”

“A…consulting detective?” you repeat confusedly. You’ve never heard of such a job. Your eyes narrow, a bit shrewd, and start to ask, “Is that even–?”

“Yes, it’s a real job.” He rolls his eyes with a huff, apparently having heard such skepticism before. “When the police struggle putting together the pieces of a particular case, they call me to help solve it. My gift, it enables me to perceive things others miss.”

“Is that how you knew about me?” you ask, thinking back to your first meeting. 

“No, Banjo’s quite the chatterbox,” he says, snickering when the mutt’s ears lift at the mention of his name.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, finding it funny how Rockford failed to mention his terrible sense of humor as one of his annoying traits. Hilarious, really.

Correctly sensing you’re not in a mood for jokes, he sobers up quickly, expression settling back into a serious one. “When we first met, I asked you if you were a psychic or empath? These mind-gifts tend to be hypersensitive when they’re unstable and in need of a match. This also sometimes results in them zoning out when triggered by somebody, such as a total stranger in the middle of the library. From there it was easy to deduce you had to have one of the two.”

“And the rest?”

“The way you stand, shoulders back and spine straight, never quite able to fully relax, that told me military,” he says decisively. “There’s no ring on your finger and you didn’t automatically turn down my offer of living together—meaning there was no current romantic partner or roommate you’d have to check with. No close family nearby either or you’d be living with them because it’s common knowledge empaths suffer when in solitude. You also would have hesitated if you’d merely been on leave, reluctant to change your living situation so drastically before returning to combat, so I knew you must’ve been discharged then.”

“You knew about my psychologist too,” you murmur, head swimming.

“A discharged soldier in Fox Leap with a mind-gift lacking a match?” He crosses his arms loosely over his chest, shrugging. “Wasn’t that big of a logical jump to make that you’d experienced a lapse of control. Happens to about thirty or so soldiers a year, majority of those possessing mind-gifts. Dr. Odair’s practically the first number on the military’s speed dial, of course they’d send you to her.” 

Your lips purse. Put like that, it really is an easy jump to make. 

“And from the reviews I’ve read, Dr. Odair deserves her prestigious reputation. Her coping techniques and methods are top notch, but the best treatment an unstable gift needs is to find its match. She would have informed you of this during your very first session.” Rockford’s on a roll now, words loud in the otherwise silent atmosphere of the office. “In the military, events unfold fast. Battles to be won, tasks to be completed. You would have started looking immediately, intent to find what was yours. However, you ended up adopting a pet, an emotional creature—that says your lack of results was beginning to wear on you. If you couldn’t find your match, at least you had a substitute for your mind-gift to bond with...”

He trails off after a glance at your face, mouth shutting with an audible noise, and you honestly have no idea what expression you’re even making. You don’t have any idea where your thoughts are either, they just seem to be floating aimlessly around in your brain. 

You aren’t sure what you expected from Rockford, but it definitely hadn’t been this—a detailed breakdown of his gift’s assessment of you, like you weren’t a person anymore but one of the crossword puzzles he solves every morning. 1 Across: friendless. 5 Down: at wits’ end. Bonus Word: goodbye emotional privacy. 

He knew all of that, all your flaws, all your issues, and still he offered you a home. Even as your match, there was no requirement to live together. No law forcing him to eat breakfast with you every morning or buy treats for Banjo or give you open access to his emotions. That was all Rockford.

“You,” you say at last, and something interesting happens in the pause between words. Rockford stiffens, watching you closely, tremors of apprehension he can’t quite fully suppress rattling your mind-gift. “...are amazing.” 

Rockford’s eyes widen, looking—and feeling—abruptly dumbstruck. “Really?”

“Really really,” you confirm. A shadow of apprehension persists though, a black cloud you’d like to wipe from his beautiful mindscape forever. “What’s wrong?”

“Amazing isn’t what people normally say when I use my gift on them.”

“What do they normally say?”

The corner of his mouth curls up, a tiny, rueful thing that doesn’t suit his handsome face at all. “Fuck off.”

And it’s funny, the strange way such a mean response makes him even more endearing to you. But it’s something so personally relatable, another link in the chain binding you to one another. 

“Idiots,” you say after a beat, pleased at the snort of amusement it garners. “Their loss is my gain.”

“I’m glad it was you, too, Roan,” Rockford replies, and there’s not a single spot of darkness staining his mood. Just ocean waves and sunshine as far as your mind-gift can reach—and a hint, the faintest of traces of that unnamed feeling from before. 

Something soft. Something fond.

Something you could feel everyday for the rest of your life and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Maybe that’s why it’s so easy for you to say, “So are you gonna tell me what’s up with this case or not?”

[praline-elegy]

A small crumb of a Fence fic I’m working on :)

“Tell me about your relationship with Jesse.” Seiji asked, walking in step beside Nicholas.

“This again?” The other boy groaned as the two made their way back to their shared dorm.

“…I thought we made progress on how much you trust me.” Seiji grumbled, the edges of his mouth pressed into a familiar frown. 

“And you thought suddenly bringing this up wouldn’t affect your friendship points with me?” 

“Friendship points?” His nose scrunched in the most Seiji-esque of ways. 

Nicholas exhaled slowly, trying to smother the irritation skimming his nerves. “Yeah, Seiji. This is like, a level ten secret and you’re only at level two, maybe three,” he countered.

“Then how do I bring up these… ‘friendship points’ so to speak?”

“You can’t rush friendship.” Nicholas retorted, but there was something left unsaid that made Seiji look him in the eyes thoughtfully. Whether there was a glimmer of irritation or something else though, Nicholas didn’t hold that gaze long enough to see.

Seiji stared for a moment, before pulling out his dorm key and unlocking the door, oddly allowing Nicholas to swoop in the doorway as he pondered his next words.

“But?” He finally decided on—a single word—extending the conversation.

Nicholas dropped his bags, sweatshirt halfway pulled off his body with his hand on the bathroom doorknob. “But? I thought this conversation was over!” He turned around to look at Seiji, who just stood still in the middle of the room with an intense gaze in his eyes.

Seiji slipped his bag off of his shoulder, answering bluntly. “Yes Nicholas, ‘but’ is a conjunction used to combine two or more independent clauses together.”

“What’s with the sudden English lesson!” He cried in exasperation.

“It sounded like you had something more to say,” Seiji shrugged, taking off his shoes and pulling out clean clothes to change into. “I just thought I’d do it for you.”

Nicholas huffed, tugging his sweatshirt off all the way, tossing it on his desk as he considered Seiji’s comment. Instead of reaching for the doorknob, he turned around, crossing his arms as he slumped against the bathroom door. Seiji’s eyebrow raised, waiting expectantly for him to answer.

Nicholas thought for a moment, letting his head drop to the side as he gazed in the direction of his most prized possession, the little scrap of newspaper with his dad’s winning article on it encased in a protective sleeve under his mattress.

This wasn’t the kind of secret where you could say it and nothing would change, because it was life-altering to know; even if the facts didn’t change, Seiji definitely would. There was absolutely no way that this knowledge wouldn’t reshape the way he saw Nicholas—his worldview of the boy would be so utterly changed! Nicholas didn’t want that.

But…

It would be nice. He supposed, to have someone by his side, apart from his complicated relationship with his mom. 

But Seiji was… he swallowed, closing his eyes at the tiny flutter in his chest. Somebody he didn’t want to lose, not after they’d become rivals, and even more so as friends and… whatever that thing was that happened with the tennis ball in the salle. He opened his eyes and shifted his gaze to the other side, earnestly considering what to do. Seiji seemed so pleased that Nicholas was thinking hard about the suggestion, that he allowed him a moment of respite as he continued to get ready for his post-training routine, occasionally glancing at Nicholas’s face as he pondered and bit his dry chapped lips.

Why couldn’t Seiji just let it go? Why didn’t Nicholas do the sensible thing and put up a damn boundary? He lied when he said it was a level ten friendship secret—as arbitrary as that system was—it was a fucking nuclear S-tier secret and Nicholas just knew it’d break his heart if Seiji was let in on the one secret he had and let it intensify his obsession with finding Jesse in him. 

Seiji would never see, “Nicholas Cox, his ridiculously fast rival who almost got Seiji’s fourth”—No! Nicholas would be:

“The Coste bastard child and Jesse’s younger brother.”

He didn’t want that. Nicholas was his own person, and he’d really hoped Seiji would come around to see that. 

His chest hurt. 

But secrets changed people, the longer they were kept hidden. How long could he theoretically keep that up with no one in his lonely corner? It’d be nice to have someone, even with a bright blue and yellow ducky curtain hanging in the middle…

Groaning in frustration, Nicholas banged his head against the bathroom door, rubbing his hands over his face. “Why’d you have to say ‘but’! Now I’m actually thinking about it!”

“So you’ll tell me?” Seiji treaded carefully, as though one wrong word could end the conversation once and for all.

Nicholas should’ve just said ‘it’s complicated’ and ended it there. Maybe relenting and acknowledging the situation would quell Seiji’s interrogation for now.

But no, his dumbass heart decided to dig a hole deeper than that, pulling from somewhere deep inside his chest with the slightest sliver of hope and profound conviction that Seiji would certainly refuse.

“Only if you’d go on a date with me,” Nicholas huffed softly, shaking his head as he got off the bathroom door, ready to dose himself in a nice hot shower and leave this conversation in the past. 

“Okay.”

“Wait—what?” Nicholas whipped his head around, surprised to find Seiji standing right behind him, much closer than he’d expected him to be in their tiny dorm room.

“I’ll take you on a date.” He said simply. He left off the part that said, "The price would be so easy;” that Nicholas would so easily bend for a sliver of Seiji’s attention. He’d be right though, which was why Nicholas tried so hard to resist that. To be as absolutely volatile as possible around him.

But his resolution was wavering around the undeniable pull of Seiji’s presence. Nicholas could still feel the light touch and hot hot burning of where the dark haired boy adjusted his stance over a week ago.

Feelings are dumb. 

But this kind of dumb made him feel good. 

He was weak to that.

“I—what are you saying?”

“Friday,” Seiji decided, in a voice that Nicholas pretended was just for him; the rasp in that single word caressing his ear. The taller boy smirked, leaning around him to put a hand against the door. “Friday I’ll take you out for dinner.”

Nicholas’s mouth parted slightly, speechless, as a blush spread across his face. 

Seiji’s eyes flickered down for a moment before looking up again. “And wear something nice.”

He turned the doorknob and walked past Nicholas, clicking the bathroom door shut.

Nicholas stuttered, frozen at the sudden turn of events. Before finally realizing—

“Hey! I was gonna shower first!”

[thirstnotes]

| Rivals to Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Four - Jealous Clark |

pairings: Clark Kent x AFABPlusSizedBlackReader x a little bit of some Bruce Wayne

warnings: more rambling, more thirst, a little bit of awkward, sass, attempts at humor, typos, language, morally gray Clark, jealous Clark

If you don't like it, don't read it. But a quick second for those of you that have hung in there with me this far: I appreciate the love and comments. Seriously, I thought this was gonna be a simple and silly thank you fic for @ramp-it-up--dope writer btw, go check her out when you get the time--who answered my asks in perhaps the best way possible, but it's turned into a chaos series of rambling thoughts and awkward thirst and ngl it's really fun writing a problematic Clark with an equally problematic reader.

In short: I don't think I'm much of a writer, and I promise ya'll that's okay, but thank ya'll for reading and liking and reblogging my raggedy nonsense anyway

(Also I don't write nearly enough to tag people or to do a tag list, but I'll do it just this once bc I never got that kinda request before. Here you go, @glitterandgoldfinds 💖)

“I heard you and Y/N are dating?”

Clark smirked, dusting bagel crumbs off his shirt as he finished his breakfast. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I won’t even entertain the question.”

“Right. The award winning Lois Lane always has the story.”

There was a quiet pause on her end. It was a bit hard to discern as he tried to tune out the bustling sounds of the coffeehouse around him. From the sound of it, she was making coffee. He finally picked up on her laughter approaching the phone. “You should do my PR.”

“Busy, unfortunately. Gunning for your job, in fact.”

She laughed again. “I can tell. Anyway, Luke tells me you’re gonna try the cooking class too?”

“Yeah we are,” he said, now picking out an assorted mix of your favorite donuts. He heard a lower tone in the background and a light smack that had her giggling. He rolled his eyes.

“Oooh we? Sounds kinda serious,” she hummed, giving him an invitation to volunteer more information.

“No comment.”

He heard a male’s voice in the background again. Obviously Luke. It was too distorted to understand, but he was certain it was annoying.

“Hmm,” she purred, sounding like she was following up with a small sip, “Maybe I should pump Y/N for the details.”

She wasn’t joking. She was almost as relentless and nosy as you were to get the facts.

You could definitely hold your own, but he just didn’t need the headache.

He paid for the donuts with a light laugh. “We just got started, I wouldn’t call the reverend.”

“No, but it’s kinda a huge scoop. Maybe I should make this the next cover story,” she taunted saucily, making him laugh a little louder.

“Hilarious. You know, jealousy’s not a good look on you, Lo’,” he sassed back, checking the time. She snickered on the other end.

“Not jealous, just surprised. Y/N’s a pretty hard sell. How’d you land her?”

He left and casually held the door for an elderly couple, eyes on your building two stoplights down. “Just. Lucky, I guess.”

Lois hummed in agreement. “You do have a flair for luck that I’ll never understand.”

He laughed, dipping his head modestly and picking out a table to sit at in the outdoor dining area. You probably weren’t awake just yet, as evident by your phone going straight to voicemail, so he decided to give it 30 minutes or so. “I guess it’s a matter of perception.”

“Clark...Mmh…Clark…”

He paused. It was a whisper. Your fevered gasps that pierced his ears through all the clamoring of the waking city. It was a cry for him. Falling from your lips. It switched something on in him.

“Mmh…yes. Please…I deserve it,” you groaned through needy gasps. What the fuck were you doing to yourself that had you sounding like that?

A soft vibration accompanied you and his mind nearly shut off. You were thinking about him...while you were...Fuck.

“So anyway, see you in class?”

He blinked, his thoughts interrupted. Lois continued on the other end, completely oblivious to any of it. Something about Luke’s pictures or some shit. He didn’t really care. Which was truly a first. He took a small breath.

“Yeah. Sorry. Signal broke up,” he lied, trying to gather his thoughts, “Call you back.”

"Everything okay?" she asked, a little concerned at his detached tone.

He snapped out of it, eyes falling to the stoplight that changed to red.

He licked his dry lips. He did need to stop.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just almost to her place."

"Ooooh, I see. Well don't let me hold you up."

He could've told her "It's not like that, I'm just bringing breakfast"

He could've worked it around to say "Nah, I like the company."

Anything that came out of his lips next would've been another step closer to stealing her away from her mediocre boyfriend

But instead

He exhaled a low, breathy laugh. "Thanks. Later."

He barely registered hanging up. You'd finished quickly, the soft puffs of your breath fading from his senses just as quickly as they came. That was a sucker punch to his health. He wondered if he could wager just a peek. Just one. Through a few thin walls.

He could just imagine you there, muscles still tense, gradually relaxing, honey-soaked thighs sliding down your sheets, your panties ruined--provided you were wearing any. He took a deep breath. Granted you were his girlfriend--fake or no--you were his friend first.

No peeking. Not yet anyway.

Your shower kicked on and he nearly audibly groaned. You were making it really hard to be a gentleman.

Impossible.

He let his morals slip a little as his view of your apartment faded to the interior, eyes curiously peering into your world. He'd never been up there before. Your decorations revealed a bit more to him than he knew. Your awards and achievements were framed above your work area. He’d recognized a good portion of them. From Fresh New Journalist, to Journalist of the year—two years in a row, around which were framed pictures of you with all the members of your team at some point or another.

It made him smile a bit when he saw that you actually saved the picture of the you and him after losing the office paintball game, both of you splattered with yellow. A color you sarcastically quipped complimented his eyes. His chest pounded when he thought about how cute you were, dusting paint out of his hair, standing on your tiptoes. Jokingly reminding him that it was his fault your position was given away because he was so damn tall. It made him laugh. You always made him laugh.

Shit.

Had it always been you?

No, he’d known Lois far longer, and was in love all the way. But somewhere along the line, you’d sneaked in and hit him with your jokes, your wit, your smile… Dammit Y/N.

Almost as if summoned, you emerged from your bathroom, wrapped in a towel and his eyes darkened a bit, sliding along your curves in the terrycloth.

He could feel his face heating up a bit; this was wrong. He knew that. But he was too curious to stop now. A bead of water caught his attention--a stray drop from your soaked curls that framed your pretty face as you rifled through your drawer. it ran down your chest in a jagged pattern before disappearing into the darkness of your cleavage.

This was so wrong.

You looked so content. So...satisfied. He felt his body tense when you loosened your towel, ready to drop it for the cute floral lingerie you'd pulled out. He swallowed heavily, his eyes dropping just as the towel fell from your chest.

He couldn't. You weren't his. Not yet anyway

Call him a bit of a sentimental sap, but he didn't wanna spoil the surprise.

He ran a hand over his face, glancing at his phone, trying to figure out how to proceed.

So eventually

There he was

Like a soothsaying sex goblin, he was standing in front of your building with donuts

You suddenly felt a wave of panic wash over you

Like if "I LOOK A MESS" was a feeling

Which. As far as you knew, it was, but you'd never say something so cliche aloud.

Besides, as far as effortlessly sexy went that morning, you were ahead of the game

Also you were too lazy to change. Clark was unexpectedly intruding into your space. He was just gonna have to deal

If you were petty, you'd admit that it was a great excuse to show him the ass he was missing out on bc the lounge shorts clinging to you right then were practically screaming "Lemme sit on that face for an hour or two"

But you weren't petty

"Oh wow, is this what they call a full service boyfriend?" you joked with a grateful hum, your interest fully directed at the donuts he'd brought.

Unfortunately, you missed the absolute shameless way homeboy took in your scent

Like he was smelling his favorite pastry

He couldn't understand it

He didn't wanna try

All he knew was that a new fixation was forming and unlike Lois, you were already half his

The sweet smell of something cinnamon-y wafted from you. Body wash or lotion or something. His eyes followed you as you strolled into your kitchen, and set the box down. Your hair was still a little damp, pulled back into a curly bun. Cute.

“Something like that. I thought I’d drive you to class to make up for last night."

“Oh yeah,” you remembered with a laugh, “Drunk texts? What were you up to last night?”

“It was a hell of a night, believe me,” he said, making his way to your sofa, seeming to want to leave it at that. As badly as you wanted to pry, you let it go.

“Well anyway, we don’t have class today.”

“Oh. Well what do you wanna do today?”

You gave him a strange look. “What? Offering to hang out with your fake girlfriend for the day? What happened to Take No Prisoners I’ll Take Your Girl Clark Kent?”

“He’s off for the day,” he said, rolling his eyes. He did that a lot with you. You laughed, successfully working his nerves.

“Damn. I was hoping to ask him for some pointers,” you said, sarcastically snapping your fingers. He eyed you as you moved past to clean your mess.

Damn you hit different in pajama shorts.

Focus, Clark. His eyes flickered to the television. Rather to the assorted bouquet on your television stand. It was rather extravagant, the stems and petals covering the edge of the screen obnoxiously. A gold card was in a black holder sticking out from it and he was curious about the sender.

“Pointers about?”

“I have an interview/dinner date with with Bruce Tall-Dark-and-Broody Wayne tonight and truth be known, my man’s kinda hot.”

If you only knew how broody he was, he thought to himself, feeling a familiar bit of nagging jealousy tugging at him. “He send the bouquet?”

“Yeah. Aren’t they gorgeous? Somehow he found out about my favorite flowers. The man’s mafia, I’m certain of it,” you joked, completely missing the pointed stare he was giving your flowers.

What do you know? Suddenly got an opening in my schedule.

How about dinner, 8:00 at La Mercerie?

It paid to have X-ray vision.

In this case, though, it left a bad taste in his mouth. You were going out on a date with Bruce Wayne. What the shit?

“What's the story?” he asked patiently, his eyes plastered on the tv now, not registering a single bit of what was showing onscreen.

“The 30th annual Wayne Concert Commemoration? It’s one of the other stories that I got bumped to cover since you scooped me on the whole Nightwing thing, remember?” you said, feigning a bitter tone that made him smile again.

“All that salt’s gonna raise your blood pressure.”

You looked pleasantly surprised at the clap back, whirling to face him with your hand—and a soapy spatula—on your hips. So fuckin cute. “Okay. Farmboy’s got jokes. I gotchu next time, though. This story’s gonna be great.”

“I dunno. A concert story doesn’t sound too exciting,” he continued, a small smirk twitching at his lips. In truth, his emotions were swirling. If he didn’t joke, he might’ve actually have tried to convince you not to go.

“I’ll think of something. So watch your ass Kent.”

"I will," he resigned with a small smirk.

He’d much rather watch yours, to be honest, admiring the light way it jiggled when you shifted your weight to your other leg, your focus back on the dishes.

Fuckin focus, Clark.

Bruce Wayne was dangerous. In more ways than one. The Dark Knight persona was, of course, but somehow Bruce himself was even more dangerous. Bruce Wayne was a handsome billionaire. A playboy. Plus, for all the good he’d done, he was still a marked man with a hell of a lot of enemies. Enemies that would hurt you to get to him. Even if you were just a fling.

Which you weren’t gonna be. Were you? One of his knuckles popped. How long had his fists been clenched? His mouth went a bit dry again.

“Do you have something to drink?” he asked suddenly and you looked at him blankly. What were you thinking about? He’d obviously snapped you out of some deep thought. You always had that look when someone interrupted your train of thought at work. You were also usually kind of grouchy when that happened, but you just gave him a lopsided smile. Which somehow made it worse. Your good mood was beginning to bug him.

“Oh! Yeah! Sorry. Help yourself,” you said, nodding to the fridge. He tentatively did as he was told, spotting some sodas in the door and deciding to grab one. He needed a drink. Ideally one with a sting stronger than a Dr. pepper, but he’d just have to take the L. It wasn’t like he could get drunk anyway.

“I was just thinking,” you said, drying your hands on your towel.

Oh fuckin finally

He needed wanted to know what was swimming through that devious mind of yours

“We can go wander around the park a bit if you want. It’s right next to the shopping center, so I can pick up a cute outfit while I’m there. You know, multitask.”

“Works for me,” he said, pretending the soda is what gave him such a stale tone.

“Sweet, lemme go get dressed,” you said with a pleasant smile. He couldn’t lie, the sudden image of you slipping out of those clothes did flash across his mind multiple times that morning, and he wanted nothing more than to tell you to forget Wayne and stay in all night with your boyfriend.

Which he wasn’t

Not for real

But he was most certainly on your mind

He knew that much

It wasn't Bruce's name coming from your mouth

Yet...

(Part 5)

(Part 3)

[thecameronchronicles]

Sugar Cookies

TW: Smut. Language. Edging and Teasing. Semi-public sex. 

Sarah Cameron x Fem! Reader.

SUMMARY: Making cookies with your girlfriend, Sarah takes an unexpected, messy, and sweet turn…

WORD COUNT: 1100

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Sugar Cookies

Already half of the cookies had been made while the other were just slipped beneath the hot burners of the oven, you turning back with victory in a morning well spent well invested in the Christmas spirit. But as you turned, you found your girlfriend reaching for one of the sugar cookies still a bit too warm to be consumed without displaying that half singsong pant required to continue. 

“Baby, they’re still hot!” You spoke quickly as she nodded. 

“But SO good. Oh my God!” She groaned, your heart skipping a beat to the sound you knew well. That sound of pleasure that would peek in innocuous moments throughout the day, especially when food was involved. And yet, it directed your eyes to the more sinful of instances. 

“You HAVE to try it…” She blew on the edge of a cookie, cupping a hand beneath for any crumbs before you obliged, always wanting to please her as her eyes offered that ‘come hither’ invitation that always made you turn to putty for her. 

“Wow…You’re not wrong-”

“It’s rare that I am.” She teased before dipping her finger into the small tub of frosting. 

“Sarah-”

“You can’t have a sugar cookie without the frosting…” She explained while offering her finger to you, “Think of it like a chaser…” The tone used was spoken almost as if in some form of a challenge as you would smirk and oblige once again. But where she may have expected you to simply appease her, you would lick it slowly off of her digit, inciting a moan that inflamed her eyes into a deeper lust. 

“Would be even better here…” She took another swipe of frosting to your neck, where you would submit to her guidance, the promise of her lips and tongue to your skin acting as reason enough. And it would not disappoint. Her hands reached to your hips as she set you softly against her, a hot tongue taking the frosting while your eyes pulled into a roll in basking in how she felt against you. A perfect figure, a graceful and flawless hold of her fingers to your body, and the lack of a rush in all movements, even if anybody could come upon you at any moment. 

“My sweet girl..” She teased as you needed more, pulling back to see the devilish smirk that caused your own to mirror across your face. In a lift, she was set on the counter, a mixing bowl having been forced to the floor as a spatula would follow. 

“Please…” She whimpered between kisses as you grinned, taking the frosting for yourself, but setting it on her thigh. 

“You’re already so sweet…But this…”

“Mmm…”

“Is gonna make you so wet, isn’t it, baby?”

“Find out…” She lifted up her skirt as your hand rose up her thigh, a thumb teasing those ivory panties you had already caught a glimpse of this morning as you woke up in each other’s arms, the fabric a rush against your leg as she teased you and slipped to dress for the morning. 

“More than wet, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You asked as she nodded quickly, almost desperate as you were teasing her clothed clit for what she wanted to be hurried and ambitious twirls of a touch. 

“Soaking wet…please…” You would only shake your head though as you lowered to your knees. 

“But you’re even sweeter than the cookies baby…and I need more…” She moaned to the instant your tongue ran through her lower lips, collecting your reward with each lap made of your ambitious mouth, her taste rivaling that of any sweet. But the gentle guide of her finger at your cheek would send you to take a finger of frosting into your mouth before returning to her. 

“Oh my God!”

“Mmm-hmm…”

“Baby…I’m…”

“Mmm…Hmmm…” You spoke again in approval, a finger now bent to her g-spot, quickly joined by two, as your thumb and tongue took turns taking her to that familiar edge you two visited well. The song of metallic bows moving together and pans echoing in each movement she made in a glide at the counter had motivated you further as you would send a final rise of your hand to her breast, kneading the nipple beneath her bunched dress. 

“I’m gonna come…I’m coming!” She announced as you nodded, allowing her to drip onto the counter before you were taken against her lips. 

“See baby…so sweet…” You were turned against the counter, her lips in a soft attack to your neck, rising from your shoulder to the base of your ear, as her hands were affectionate from the availability made from your dress to the skirt at the edge of her fingertips before she took a cookie to your mouth. 

“To keep you quiet, sweetie.” Your eyes rolled as she set two fingers inside of you, pistoning fast and deep as you had had done at the edge of her release. 

“You feel so good…” You confessed, moaning in such a way that made her enthusiastic to continue. 

“YOU are sweeter than sugar cookies, baby…but those moans are enough to give me a sugar rush…you know what they do to me…” You nodded, moaning purposely to strengthen this apparent reaction, while you were taken towards her. 

“Let me take this off…” She untied your apron, pulling down the straps of your dress, before using her free hand to swipe frosting on your nipples. Taking one at a time behind a smirk, you began to lose sense of all time as she brought you to an edge, only to retract as you shook over her. 

“Please, baby…I am so close…”

“I know sweetheart…oh God, you’re SO tight…My fingers are able to move so fast because of how wet I’m making you-”

“Sarah! SARAH!”

“Come for me…let me finish cleaning you up while you come…” Your eyes pulled into a roll as she continued to set her fingers inside of you through this rush, a rush that made her smile with pride as she licked you off of her fingers. 

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. 

The oven explained its completion of the last set of cookies as she chuckled. 

“Perfect timing.” You took her jaw softly in your hand to take her back to you. 

“Too sweet.” You commented as she nodded. 

“Save some of that frosting just for us, okay?”

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf

[leclerced]

please tell me more about them, literally anything (peach n max) begging for a crumb of content ™

i have sooo many ideas about them. below is smth i wrote after posting that fic but i wasn’t sure if i should continue it

in my head, the story behind the nickname is that charles gave her the nickname after she was born, because he couldn’t pronounce her name but he could say peche. it was his favorite food, so that’s what he called his baby sister. just wanted to share that hehe

She was part of the package deal when Max became friends with Charles, he would have been annoyed that his friend’s younger sister followed them everywhere if she hadn’t been ridiculously pretty. And smart. And funny. She got along with everyone, Max included. He thought she was annoying as kids because she was his rival’s sister, but when he met her again when he befriended Charles, he saw her in a new light. Or just saw that she’d grown up like the rest of them and she was fucking hot.

It wasn’t hard for him to keep his distance for years when she wasn’t coming to every race because of her studies. He felt something shift a few weeks before her 23rd birthday, when she finished university and flew out the same day to make it to the next race. She’d shown up at the paddock in pajama pants and a tank top, hair in a low pony tail and bags under her eyes. She hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours, she planned to sleep on the plane but they flew through a small storm and experienced minor turbulence and she was kept awake anxiously waiting for the plane to shake again.

She’d planned on changing and touching up her graduation makeup that had smudged under her eyes, but she thought she looked okay when she checked herself out in the airport bathroom. She napped a bit in the car ride to the hotel and nearly fell asleep when she carried her luggage up to her room and saw the bed, but she didn’t want to miss the race.

She was so tired when she made it to the track that she didn’t even think about it when she saw Max’s garage and walked straight in to find him. She pulled him into a hug from behind and said hello as she pressed her face into his back. Max had only hugged Charles’s sister a few times, but he recognized her perfume and voice as soon as she wrapped herself around him. He couldn’t stop the stupid grin that appeared on his face as he broke the conversation with GP to turn in her arms and hug her back. “Hey, peach, I didn’t know you were coming.”

She yawned and leaned into his warmth. “I didn’t tell anyone. Came to surprise Charlie.” Max stiffened at the mention of her brother and he pulled back from the hug.

“Lets get you go him then.” He led her to the Ferrari garage with his hand on the small of her back, fingers brushing the skin where her tank top rode up. No one else could pull off sleepwear at an event like this, but her Ferrari branded sweatpants and tight black tank top blended in once she was in her brother’s garage. He was drunk on the feeling of her smooth skin under his finger tips and instantly missed it when she saw Charles and bounded up to him.

She jumped onto his back and squealed his name. Charles stumbled into Carlos whose hands reached out and righted the siblings, one hand on her thigh around Charles’s hips and the other on Charles’s waist. Max wanted to rip her away from the Ferrari team and drag her back to his garage, but he pushed the thought from his mind and turned back to leave the should-be twins to catch up.

The weeks leading up to their summer break were hell, she was at every race which was lovely, but it was mid summer and she pranced around in short skirts and self cropped Ferrari polos. When she stretched up, it revealed a delicious sliver of skin. Max felt like he was playing with fire every time she caught him staring and smirked at him before looking away, and he’d follow her gaze to meet Charles’s glare.

[knifedancer]

Bad Dates

After their blind date, the two heroes decide to set aside a little time to bond -- while talking about terrible dates they've been on. Obviously.

Please read Just Acquaintances (Stars Aligned) by ggomo_springtime first as it inspired my story below. This is for you, @ggomomomo!

~~~~~~~

Ladybug sat atop the Arc de Triomphe, her lazy gaze settled on the lights of Paris while awaiting her partner for their post-patrol chat. However, tonight wasn’t about akumas or battle strategies or even the current leads on Hawkmoth… No, tonight they had scheduled just for fun. Something out of the ordinary for the two superheroes but, with the recent blind date fiasco, the partners had grown closer. Their kwamis had also concluded that this would also improve their teamwork…thus their newly scheduled evening atop Paris. Not that she minded, it was nice to have someone else to talk to that wasn’t attempting to push her into yet another relationship!

Landing near-silently, Chat Noir retracted his baton and stowed it away with a grin. “Evening, Bug. Brought us a little snack. I know you’ve likely been skipping meals due to your commission deadlines again.” He held up and shook a small bag holding five takeout containers.

“Hmph, I can take care of myse—” The smell wafted towards Ladybug, causing her stomach to growl in protest to her words. Chat raised an eyebrow at the noise and watched as the heroine’s cheeks beneath the mask rouged with embarrassment, “Alright, so I may have lost track of time…”

The cat holder rolled his eyes and chuckled fondly, settling down beside her and spreading the containers out between them. “It’s tapas from Les Apotres de Pigalle on rue Germaine Pilon. Figured something small and shareable would be best while we’re suited up.” Containers were opened, revealing everything from a delicate cheese platter to quesadillas to macaroni and cheese – there was an obvious theme to the selections: cheese.

Ladybug raised an eyebrow and Chat’s grin turned a bit sheepish, “Yes, Plagg did assist in the choices this evening.” She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation but refrained from making a comment. They both tucked into the food before laying back with full stomachs to look at the stars.

“You should have heard the comments the girls made after our ‘date’ the other night!” Ladybug giggled, tapping her feet together softly from where she lay. “They would not let it go!”

Chat Noir smirked as he laid back, propping himself up on his elbows. “My cousin was quite incensed as well. Thanks for helping me lighten his wallet’s burden.”

“Any time, Chat. I had a great time. Far better than the last time they set me up,” she snorted derisively around a bite of quesadilla she had decided to nibble on.

A corner of his black mask raised as he leaned back on his palms, “Oh? Just how low of a bar did I clear?”

She rolled her eyes, “Are you sure you want to hear about my horrible dates?”

Chat’s grin in response would rival the Chesire cat, “Trade you, story for story. You don’t need to give me names or personal details. We don’t need to know if we’ve dated in each other’s social circles by accident.” He waved a clawed glove dismissively to punctuate his point.

“Alright, but you’ve been warned!” Ladybug shook a finger towards her partner with a chuckle. “Let’s see…” Her eyes drifted up to the sky as she ruminated on the details of her disastrous dating life while the black cat took to snacking on one of the treats between them. “Hmm… The last one we’ve taken to calling the ‘Cheeto Guy’…” she began.

“Pfft, what? Cheeto guy? As in the atrocious American snack food?” Chat scoffed.

“Cheeto Guy,” she confirmed with a nod while brushing crumbs from the front of her suit. “He was a friend of a friend, someone I had bumped into randomly at school, seemed nice so said friend arranged for a date. Pretty typical date: had lunch together, chatted for a while, had quite a bit in common…”

“Alright, then where do the Cheetos come in?” The bewildered blond asked, watching her facial expressions.

The spotted heroine leveled a flat look upon him, “After the date. He apparently was so taken with me; he wrote me a poem! Two pages of rhyming prose about how my beauty was so distracting that he spent the entire date thinking about crushing up Cheetos…smearing them on my body…and licking it off.”

For a moment, the only sounds that could be heard were the passing traffic below and the wind in the trees before a loud, barking guffaw was ripped from her companion. “You’re joking, surely? Please tell me you’re joking!”

Ladybug shook her head ruefully, her eyes glittering with mirth at his reaction, “Unfortunately, not! I had planned to burn it, however one of my friends found the poem so hilarious that they took it home with them. I didn’t feel up to a second date after that, I just apologized that I was simply too busy for a relationship.” She giggled and blew a piece of hair from her eyes, “He found someone new and is now happily married.”

“Wow, talk about low standards…” Chat murmured mockingly.

“Hey now, I firmly believe there’s someone out there for everyone! You just have to find the right person.”

He snorted, “I suppose it must be true if Monsieur Cheeto can find someone… Alright, not sure if mine will top yours. Let’s call this one…Shark Girl.” Chat watched as she mouthed the name with a befuddled look on her face. “We were set up for a date through my mother. I took her to get coffee and tried to get to know her. It was glaringly obvious to me that we did not suit, however she had a different opinion for, when I attempted to drop her at home, she lunged across the seat and kissed me.”

The spotted heroine tilted her head in confusion, “Awkward…but why call her—”

“She kissed with her teeth!” The black-clad hero winced at the memory, mimicking the movement with a clawed hand in front of his face. “Her mouth was opened wider than mine, as if she were a lamprey attempting to latch onto my face and had suctioned herself onto my lips! Then she dragged her teeth inward and down, in some odd facsimile of a passionate kiss; felt like a dozen rasps being drawn across my flesh! I was in such a shock that she did this twice before I finally shook her off and kicked her from the car.”

Ladybug was giggling uncontrollably at the description, thoroughly enjoying the looks of disgust and horror as his face oscillated from one to the other. “Oh my gods, that’s… that’s…”

“Abhorrent?” He offered; his features settled into a revolted sneer.

“Hilarious, Chat!” She fell back as her peals of laughter echoed into the night sky.

“I’m glad someone finds my misfortune entertaining,” he rolled his eyes. “My lip was bleeding in two spots by the time I returned home, I’m lucky I didn’t need stitches!”

“Or a rabies shot!” Ladybug wiped a few tears from her eyes as her laughter died into soft hiccups, “I suppose it could be worse!”

“Pray tell, how could it be worse than that, Bug?” He scoffed with disbelief even as his eyes twinkled with humor.

“I met someone at my parent’s bakery that proudly told me he got a tattoo over the weekend…he gave it to himself! Pressed a needle into the skin to make a hole, then took a ballpoint pen and rotated it around until the ink filled it in.”

His mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with shock, “My gods…that is worse!”

She giggled, “Apparently, he also thought it was wise to claim our astrological signs were compatible. Maman shut him down real quick. He hasn’t been back, although I’m not sure if that was because of my mother or the obvious infection he was developing at the tattoo site.”

Chat winced, “I would not want to be on the end of either, I assure you.” They lapsed into silence for a bit as they picked at the swiftly cooling food before them.

“It’s your turn, you know.”

Rolling his eyes with exasperation, he hummed thoughtfully. “How about the date I didn’t think was a date?”

“Wait, wa-what?” She turned and leaned towards him. “How?”

“I…” He blew out a breath and ran a clawed hand through his hair, “I had met someone through a seminar, they invited me to a documentary screening I had expressed interest in, and I accepted. About ten minutes into the show, she reached over and grabbed my hand…”

“Wow, that was bold!” she exclaimed quietly.

“Of course, I immediately realized it was that kind of outing. I wasn’t sure how to react.” He cringed, his hand flexing in his lap as if reliving the moment physically rather than mentally. “Her hands were so clammy and uncomfortable. I have long, boney fingers and hers were thicker so, when she attempted to lace our fingers together, it cut off the circulation and I felt like she was going to crush me…”

Raising a red glove over her mouth, she whimpered sadly. “Oh no, the poor thing! She must have been so nervous!”

“Oh, it gets worse. She must have realized she couldn’t comfortably hold hands that way, so she started stroking my hand – cupping it, rubbing her fingers back and forth over my knuckles, then repeating it over my palm – in the most disturbing way possible.”

“Why didn’t you just, you know, pull away?”

“It wasn’t my…proudest moment, I admit. However, I just wanted to enjoy the documentary, so I resigned myself to soldier through until the end.” The cat hero sighed, his body tense – obviously discomforted by the memory.

“You’re not the only one with some dating guilt…” Ladybug sighed, “There was this guy in my lycée that invited me out to an arcade. You recall that I’m a bit of a gamer, right?” Chat nodded, his shoulders slowly lowering as she spoke. “Well, I get a little competitive,” she admitted sheepishly.

“From what my cousin has told me, that is a gross understatement,” the blond amusingly corrected.

She huffed softly, “Anyway! I kept winning. About an hour into our time there – and in the middle of race number three on Mario Kart – he suddenly ripped the steering wheel off the console, threw it into the screen, and stormed out. Everyone was quite shocked, and a hush fell over the arcade; it was almost as if even the games themselves were momentarily stunned to silence by his vicious display. Apparently, he did not take it kindly being hit with my blue shell on the last lap! Whoops,” she ended cheekily.

“Bug, it sounds like you dodged a bullet with that one. Only you would upset someone by being too good at something!” Chat chuckled. “Did you at least buy him a prize with all your tickets?”

“I’m… actually saving up my credits for one of the top tier prizes. They have a signed copy of UMS III that I’ve had my eye on for months!” Ladybug responded slightly self-consciously as she bit her lip and picked at the hex material of her suit.

Her partner chuckled softly, “You just want your prize and I wanted to watch my documentary.”

“See? We aren’t so different, we’re both selfish!” She smiled gently. They lapsed into a companionable silence, looking out over the city as their words drifted off on the breeze.

“I suppose it could be worse, we could be greedy instead of selfish,” Chat muttered softly. The spotted heroine refocused her attention on him, cocking her head to the side as a sign to continue. “I once agreed to a blind date with a young lady except, when she arrived, she had brought along nine of her friends and demanded I pay for them all simply because I am, and I quote, ‘so flush with cash that ten five-course meals would be a drop in the bucket’ for me; and ‘I expect you to provide a certain quality of lifestyle in our relationship’ end quote.”

Ladybug’s face had morphed into one of scandalized outrage. “Wow, the sense of entitlement! I mean, honestly, the audacity!” She paused and leaned in with a whisper, “Wait, was it one of Chloe’s friends?”

He smirked, “I’ll never tell.”

“That’s confirmation enough!” She chortled gleefully for a minute, her mind awhirl imagining a gaggle of haughty blonds descending upon a restaurant for a blind date.

“Your turn, Bug,” he reminded her jokingly. “What other skeletons lay in that closet of yours? We’re in Paris, there must be one pompous peacock strutting through with his sense of entitlement.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Pompous? No. Arrogant and a bit cruel? Yes.”

He laid a clawed hand on her shoulder, his brow scrunched with worry as he attempted to lighten her declining mood, “Cruel? To you? Was he also unable to defeat you in virtual combat?”

“Funny enough, he actually enjoyed watching me game! I met him through my work,” she fiddled with her fingers in her lap as another sigh escaped her lips. “We hit it off immediately. So much in common – video games, fashion tastes, food – even my friends loved him! They called him ‘The Beau’ since he and I agreed to date casually due to the significant distance because he lived in Rouen and was contracted to work here in Paris for a year.”

“An hour and a half is quite the drive…” the cat offered gently.

She chuckled sadly, “Yeah… Well, his contract was coming to an end and he had been having trouble finding further work here. He ended up landing a job in Madrid! I was so happy for him and he insisted that we could make long distance work.” Ladybug stared out upon the city lights, feeling his gaze and the slow circles he was rubbing into her shoulder. “Christmas was coming. Gifts, you should know, is one of my love languages and I…I was definitely falling for him. I remembered that he was interested in this beautiful pocket watch and I had saved up to buy it for him, even had his initials engraved on it…”

The spotted heroine paused to get the growing quiver in her voice under control. “Ahem! He, uh…He was in Rouen for the holidays and we had planned to meet up for a fancy dinner halfway to celebrate. I had asked him about the plan – specifically transport: ‘Are you coming to get me? Am I going to you? Meeting there?’ Pretty basic inquiry! Do you know what he said?”

Chat shook his head silently, taking in her watery blue eyes filled with anger and sadness.

“He said, ‘you’re cute but not three hours round trip cute.’ As if I had not been traveling out there to see him before! As if he was deserving of my effort to see him but I wasn’t worthy of his effort! As if my time was less precious than his own!” She scoffed, “Here I am, fighting akumas and attempting to defeat a magical super villain and I’m the one that isn’t—anyway! So, I rightly called it off and asked where I should send his gift. It’s personalized, not like I was going to keep it. He told me, ‘I live in a tiny flat, what makes you think I want more junk?’ I was so, so angry! I convinced him to open it and, if he didn’t want it, he could toss it out for all I cared!”

The black clad hero surreptitiously watched for akuma butterflies on the horizon as the rage rolled off his partner in waves, giving her a moment to simply feel without worry. The concern was unneeded as the roiling emotions were just as quickly snuffed out before Hawkmoth could detect it. “When he finally opened it, he apologized profusely and expected me to just…forget it ever happened.” She pressed her gloved hands into her eye sockets with a wet – if not sardonic – chuckle, “Needless to say, it didn’t work out.”

Ladybug was quickly engulfed in a comforting hug as she concentrated on taking a few breaths to get herself back under control. “I’m sorry, Bug. That was completely uncalled for and I, for one, am ashamed that wanker – that bloody tosser of a git – is among those of my gender. That absolute poxy excuse of a man is such a blighter and doesn’t deserve you. If you hadn’t called things off, I would have told that gormless prat to sod off myself,” he murmured fiercely beside her ear, relieved when he felt the silent chuckles growing stronger with each British insult he could dream up. He knew she was always fond of the way his English relations spoke and used it to his full advantage whenever she needed a mood lift.

When the sniffles had stopped and her hands dropped from her face, Chat released her and resumed his seat. “Thank you, you always know just what to say…” came her murmured reply.

“Hardly, I simply stated the facts. It is a truth universally acknowledged that any idiot willing to debase himself to insulting a Lady does not deserve her affections."

“Still, thanks. And I’m sorry for ruining the mood. We were sharing silly stories – and we were having so much fun – and…and I had to go and muck it up!”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Bug. Besides, you’re not the only one with a story like that,” he sighed. “My cousin set me up with a young model that seemed a good fit at one time. We had similar tastes in books and films, even shared a few of the same pet peeves and bonded over classical music. However, she traveled a lot for work, and we would meet when she was in Paris, not as if I’m jet-setting for obvious reasons. Left plenty of room for this hero business, too. It wasn’t love but it could have grown to be. For all intents and purposes, we worked.”

Ladybug furrowed her brow at him, “Then what was the issue?”

“About two months into our ‘relationship’, I discovered she was dating – and subsequently sleeping with – fourteen other people,” came his deadpan reply.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, “No!”

“Oh yes. Found it by accident on her calendar while planning a surprise for her birthday. We were all noted on her schedule with every intimate detail – down to the location and even sexual position used – going back months in her Planner. And those were only the ones I knew about! Apparently, she had heard from some American television show that it wasn’t cheating if it ‘wasn’t the same area code’ or something equally as absurd. She felt justified as each of us was in a different part of Europe.”

“Wow…” The heroine was speechless.

“Obviously, I did not agree with said sentiment and cut my association with her.”

“That’s…gods, that’s awful, Chat. I’m so sorry.” She rested a hand on his forearm, her blue eyes glowing with sadness.

He patted her hand gently, “Don’t be. It was years ago. I heard that she lost a major modeling contract after she tried to hook up with my cousin and has since found a job working in a diner over in Nice.”

“Well, Mademoiselle Serialist Cheater sounds like a perfect match for Mister Elevator.” She shook her head disgustingly as Chat raised a brow. “He introduced himself to me in the library and asked me out, I turned him down. I was supposed to hang out with your cousin a few days later and – you know how Adrien is, far too friendly with strangers than he should be – stumbled upon the two of them chatting at our meeting spot. Mister Elevator was giving him the advice to ‘give a girl a flower, it’s a surefire way to win them over!’”

“Well, flowers are a traditional gift when dating…” he murmured.

“Yeah…part of his advice was a story about giving a girl a flower and receiving a blowjob in the elevator for it. Thus his name.” The heroine rolled her eyes as her tone turned flippant, the memory nothing more than a short ridiculously humorous interaction that still made her snort to this day.

The blond choked mid-chew on a bit of brie and began to cough roughly, “Forgive me, what the fuck?!”

Ladybug simply nodded sagely and looked over the cheese platter for her next nibble but found mostly crumbs left. “I know. I was pretty floored when he told me about it. Mister Elevator saw me with your cousin and encouraged him to ‘get lucky’ with me. Like a man and a woman couldn’t be just friends, they must be sleeping together too! And that I would be so easy to ‘put out’ simply by being given a flower? Just ludicr—”

“He said what?” His words were an angry growl, one that seemed to reverberate the very air across the empty rooftop with its ferocity, which surprised a squeak from the heroine. Chat’s eyes looked absolutely feral, his claws attempting to dig into the limestone beneath them as if imagining them sinking into the object of his ire, his tail lashing wildly behind him.

“Chat! It’s fine! You know your cousin would never do something like that—!” She attempted to calm him, her eyes jumping about the horizon for possible butterflies with increasing concern and internal panic.

“That’s hardly the issue! Adrien was raised to meet very strict standards of behavior but, Bug, to insinuate that you—! He could have been—” Chat jumped from sentence to sentence in his agitation, unable to completely vocalize a single disgusting thought, as the desire to find this lout and defend her honor fed his outrage further.

“Woah, woah! I’m fine!” Ladybug held up both hands between them, approaching slowly before laying a reassuring hand on the claws currently scraping the top of the monument so as not to agitate him further. “It’s not right what he said but at least he heavily implied receiving consent. I had rejected him, he saw us together, he assumed we were dating… And I never even saw him again after that!”

As the stiff tension around his shoulders began to release, Ladybug wrapped her arms around her partner’s neck and she whispered reassuringly into his neck, “I promise, Grimalkin, I am okay. No need to cataclysm some civilian’s face off for me.”

Claws released their stranglehold on the rooftop and wrapped around her body, pulling her closer until they were settled hip to hip. She listened to his deep breaths as he calmed once again. When his voice returned, it was a hushed rumble rather than the ferocious growl it had been, “Are you sure I can’t, Bug?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It wouldn’t help anyone right now,” she chuckled against his side.

“It would make me feel better…” he muttered under his breath.

“If I ever need someone’s face to be melted off, I will come straight to you.”

“Hmm, see that you do,” Chat rested his cheek against her hair, his toxic green eyes taking in the lights of Paris once again. They lapsed into a companionable silence now that their emotions had calmed and take out containers were empty. The beautiful evening breeze tugged at their hair; a few stars twinkled through the light pollution high in the sky above their heads. It was a peaceful moment that reminded them that they always had each other to fall back on.

Ladybug’s snort broke the silence that had wrapped around them, drawing the black cat’s attention once again. “Besides, you’d be proud of how I handled a guy earlier…I channeled my inner Felix.”

The edge of his mask rose curiously, although his tone sounded as if torn between being flattered and insulted, “Oh? How so?”

“This man that I’ve been working on a commission for has taken a liking to me,” she began with a laugh, one hand immediately rested on his thigh as soon as she felt his body tense beside her. “He decided to ‘shoot his shot’ this morning by using the most bizarre pick-up line I’ve ever heard!”

Chat tried to relax, “Was it something as corny as my cousin would use? Something like…besides sexy, what do you do for a living? Or perhaps… If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple?”

The heroine’s face flushed even as she broke into loud howls of laughter, “Gods, no! It was worse!”

“Worse? I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Wiping a tear from her eye, Ladybug’s laughter died down to gentle chuckles. “No, he dropped his voice down as deep as it could go – I assume in an effort to sound rough and sexy – and asked me: ‘if I was a bear, what would I do to you?’”

Her partner leaned back enough to stare down at her, momentarily speechless over the reality of such a person existing and using such a horrid line. “…And how did you channel your ‘inner Felix’, may I ask?”

The spotted woman sat up straighter, schooling her features with an air of refined calm as she stared down her nose haughtily. “I gave no outward reaction, just simply stated – completely deadpan – that, if he were a bear, he would likely maul me. Then I proceeded to give him a factual information dump about which organs would likely to be ripped from my body first before I would lose consciousness from blood loss.”

There was a beat of silence before both dissolved into uproarious laughter.

“Bug, I’m so proud of you!” Chat enfolded his companion in his embrace, sharing in her mirth. “But, for my sanity, please never tell my cousin that line…”

She scoffed, “I can make no prom—"

Suddenly an explosion lit up the Parisian night sky, followed closely by the familiar akuma alert tone echoing through the streets below, interrupting their conversation. Ladybug groaned, “Can’t he give us one more night off?”

“No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid.” The black suited hero rose to his feet, brushing off any bits of dust that may have clung to his hex-leather suit before offering her a hand up. “Aren’t you always looking on the bright side? At least we finished dinner twice this week.”

“I suppose you’re right…” The heroine gladly accepted the hand and unraveled her yo-yo while Chat wrangled their garbage back into the bag. “Want me to take that to the nearest garbage can while you go scope things out?”

He hummed an affirmative as he settled it into her offered hand, “Probably for the best. You’re not exactly the picture of stealth, Bug.” Chat smirked at her offended scoff, jumping off the Arc de Triomphe before she could hurtle the bag at his head.

Ladybug’s angry shout echoed in the air behind him, “Must I remind you that I DON’T HAVE ANY SAY IN MY SUIT DESIGN?” He didn’t need to have super hearing to know his partner was grumbling.

Chat allowed himself a rare smile as he vaulted toward the latest akuma. ‘Being a hero can be a lonely existence but it’s a little easier together.’

~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Yes, I know...not my usual romance but I enjoyed ggomo's story so much that I felt inspired. Most of these horrible dates are based on real life experiences... Details changed to protect the guilty. What's your worst dating story?

AO3 Link