#the fact of the matter is she's too far away and she can't help and Idk where tf Im going to find anyone else at all let alone anyone else

[squerlly]

Flames of Desire chapter 12: How Unfortunate ~

Alastor x (F! bunny reader) TW! violence, use of weapons, Vox being an insecure bitch, Angst

Alastors POV:

it's been two days since y/n has gone missing, I have searched every street, every hiding spot, and killed many people for even a hint of where she is but...nothing. Charlie and the others are worried sick, it's not helping the fact I told them I had this matter under control, but the more I come back empty handed the more I'm starting to doubt myself. I can't afford to lose the one good thing I have down in this wretched place, I need to find her I must find her...

my thoughts were short lived when my door busted open, with a growl I turned "Who dares to-" "There is a package for you downstairs" "Charlie can't it wait-" "It's about y/n!". I faze through the floor in a hurry, heading straight for vaggie who is holding a box in her hand with a frown. I snatch it from her hand and with no hesitation rip it open, ripping it open I see a cloth soaked in blood that smells like y/n with brown fur and a business card from Voxtek...

everyone backs away from me as symbols of my magic surround me, static emitting from me with a stare on my face that could kill. I turn my head a crack in my neck following "Angel" he flinches and looks at me "W-what" "You work at Valentino's studio correct!?" he nods and I walk up to him "That means you know your way around Vox's headquarters!" he nods again trying put distance between us "y-your not seriously gonna go in there...right?"

Charlie stands between us "Al maybe we should go with you-" "NO, this is a personal matter!!, excuse me I have some unfinished business to take care of" If Vox wants my attention well...he's got it now. with the snap of a finger, I teleport me an Angel in front of the Vees building "Navigate me through that building, you get y/n and I'll handle the rest"

your POV:

"That's enough Val" "Aww come off Voxy, we're just getting to the fun part~" As Valentino drops me I land on the floor with a loud thud, blood running down my chest from cuts and bruises. "we sent a nice message to your little Bambi, that will surely speed up his arrival~" "fuck you, you flat faced bi-" my head shoots to the side as I feel a sting from the hard slap Vox gave me "learn your place, you should be threatening me knowing your current situation!" "Alastor is gonna get here and he's gonna kill you-" "he's not gonna do shit! not when I have his bitch on a leash~"

the conversation is cut short when Valentino's phone goes off, answering it, it sounds like one of his studio managers. Valentino ends the call "he's here" he says with a grin "Perfect". Vox leaves the room Valentino following behind him, I let out a shaky breath followed by a wince from the pain. at this rate, I might faint just from blood loss, I have to hang in just a little longer....

Alastors POV:

entering the building I make quick work of the staff working on the first floor, Angel leaving to head upstairs for y/n. I intend to wipe every demon in this building, Vox has been getting on my nerves for far too long, and it's time I bring this to an end. I walk into the elevator going up to the second floor, the elevator opens and I see Valentino standing in the middle of the room, models and porn actors fleeing the scene. he holds one gun in each hand, angelic guns... "go on, take your best shot!" he points the guns at me with that golden toothed grin "With pleasure~"

your POV:

my head feels fuzzy, the room being relatively silent before I hear the sound of screams and gunshots. I sit up seeing the door open expecting Vox but it was.. "Angel!!!! y-your here" "damn babes ya look like shit!" he runs over to me, untying my restraints "Thank fuck your here, where is Alastor!!?" "he's downstairs in that shit show" He uses his bottom arms to help me stand, rushing me out of the room. "we need to get ya outta here, smiles is gonna tear down this whole building!"

we stood in the elevator heading down to the second floor, booking it out of the elevator were met with Vox. he held a gun in his hand, using it to hit Angel in the face making him fall to the floor and drop me "you're not going anywhere!" "oh, but I think we are" Behind him stands Alastor, covered in blood with black tentacles coming out of his back. his smile strained and hair puffed out with a gunshot wound in his right shoulder.

Vox grabs me by the hair causing Alastor to lunge forward to attack, but he stops...because Vox takes the angelic gun in his hand, holding it to my head. "that's right! you're not gonna touch me, I will blow her fucking head off!" "Alastor don't-" "SHUT UP!! you have destroyed everything!! you were supposed to be dead seven years ago!!" he then points the gun at Alastor "You've made a fool out of me, you killed VAL!!!" looking behind Alastor, a pool of blood smears the floor with nothing but a pink striped gun left... "hmm how unfortunate~ he did put up a good fight"

"I have worked my ass off!!! to build my company to where it is now, and I'm not going to have an outdated PRICK destroy it, you were supposed to join us but instead, you ran off with Lucifer's dumb bitch daughter, and her HoTeL for redemption!! so now, I'm going to kill you..."

"I would have never joined you, too lost in your own pompous shit technology that it's become your greatest weakness!!, the only person that would tear your company down is you, so eager to prove that you are better but you have flaws just like every other person!!"

Vox's grip tightens on my neck "Vox... ack- y-you don't have to do this!! we can help you-" "My brand is perfection! I don't need help from you!!" he cocks back the gun aiming it straight for Alastors head, but a split second before he shoots Angel tackles him to the floor. everything felt like it was in slow motion, a ring in my ears as the shot fires, Angel on the floor pinning Vox down. and as I turned my head my vision blurred, I saw Alastor fall to his knees... with a gunshot to his chest.

I quickly crawl over to him "Alastor!!!! No... no no NO! Come on get up, please... ALASTOR!!" hot tears fall down my cheeks as I shake his body, his breathing is light and uneven as he struggles to stay awake. Vox laughs, his screen glitching in and out, Angel grabs his phone calling Charlie. I applied pressure to the wounds trying to stop the bleeding, and within a few minutes Charlie arrived with a few other people.

vaggie tries to pry me off of Alastor as I scream not wanting to let go but having no strength to fight back, as I'm pulled away all of the exhaustion and stress got to me causing everything to go dark, passing out.

We're almost finished with the series guys!!! one more chapter to go and I can start up fair exchange!!! also sorry if Velvet is kind of absent in this story, I was going to give her a place but didn't end up doing so since she mostly was on the topic of extermination until the Hazbin production gives her a more important role. thank you guys for your patience and have a wonderful day/night!

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content and chapters please click this masterlist

[ablednt]

Living in america is like. I may or may not have serious/deadly illnesses but fuck if I know because the closest doctor that accepts my insurance, is taking patients, and doesn't want to violently rip me off all of my medications and yell at me is two hours away and regardless of if I can get a ride or not that is simply not possible to manage as a primary care provider

[mssainz]

PART 1 | AFTER FIVE YEARS

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.

Warning: None

“Wow, Mama this place is beautiful!” 

“I’m glad you liked it here, my love,” 

“Mama, can I explore around?,”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,”

You and Cael arrived in Madrid yesterday. Coming back to the place you wanted to forget is nerve wracking for you. This place brings back plenty of memories of you and Carlos together, about five years ago. But seeing how enthusiastic your four-year-old child is, makes you forget why you came back here in the first place.

Seeing how he enjoys the place calms your heart. Bringing him into beautiful places in Madrid makes you happy but exhausted at the same time. You are alone and you have to look after Cael who possesses the energy of a car battery and wants to just run and explore everywhere.

“Mama, can I have an ice cream?”

“Sure, what flavor do you want?”

“I want the chocolate one, Mama”

“Okay, stay here for a moment,”

You went to the ice cream stand nearby to buy Cael an ice cream. You left him at the small bench for him to rest for a moment from running and playing around.

The lane at the ice cream stall was not that long. You are looking at Cael from time to time while waiting for your turn. Gladly, after a few minutes, you finally got Cael’s ice cream, but the one who was supposed to eat it was gone.

“Cael?”

“CAEL!”

You started to panic and find yourself roaming around the plaza to find your son. You searched for him in every corner of the place but he is nowhere to be found.

He can't be that far. Cael where are you?

While you were waiting for your turn, Cael found a ball and followed it. He didn’t notice that while trying to catch the ball, he went far away from you.

Before he knows it, he didn’t know where he was. He tried to calmly find his way back to the bench where you initially left him. He started to walk as far as his tiny legs have taken. His eyes scanned all the people he runs into the plaza.

After few minutes, he started to get worried as no matter steps he take, he can’t seem to find you. He is nearly sobbing as the fact that he lost you is kicking in. Your son is courageous and smart enough to walked towards the first guy he saw for help.

Cael reached for the hem of his shirt. The man is wearing sunglasses, a white button-up shirt, an ivory short, and a white shoes. He removed his sunglasses and bent down to face Cael.

“Hey, buddy,” Carlos greeted Cael with a smile.

“Papa?” Cael confusely said and suddenly hugged him. Carlos was also confused why he called him Papa. But the hug was so warm and felt good, so he hugged Cael back.

“I must have looked like your Papa, am I? Where are your parents?” Carlos asked Cael.

“Sorry, you really looked like Papa. I'm with my Mama but I got lost. I am trying to find her.” Cael said, in verge of crying.

“It's okay buddy, don’t cry. I’ll help you find your Mama,” Carlos caressed Cael’s cheeks.

“May I ask what’s your name and how old are you, buddy?” 

“I’m Sebastian Cael and I’m four years old. Almost five,” Cael said trying to show his four fingers to the man in front of him. Carlos smiled looking at the tiny human being trying to fold his finger.

“Hmm Sebastian Cael, What do you want me to call you?,”

“My friends call me Bash, but my Mama calls me Cael. I prefer if you’ll call me Cael,” Cael said with his naturally puppy brown eyes, melting Carlos.

“I’ll just call you Cael, then. So, can you remember when and where did you last see your Mama?” Carlos patiently wait for his response.

“She told me to rest at the bench as she buys me ice cream. But I got distracted by a ball and followed it,” Cael explained to Carlos how he got lost. Carlos can notice how Cael is trying so hard to hold his tears.

“Cael, buddy. I think you really went too far following the ball because the ice cream stall is at the opposite side of where we are right now. But don’t worry bud we’ll find your Mama, okay?,” Carlos gives Cael a reassuring smile. It is what the boy needs. Cael is in a foreign land and he cannot find his mom. Being snarky is the last thing Carlos wants to be.

Carlos held Cael's hands and walked to the ice cream stall. He tries to rub Cael’s tiny hand from time to time to assure and calm him.

Halfway back to the ice cream stall, Cael found Y/N, who was also looking for him.

“MAMA!” Cael yelled, for you to see him. He immediately let go of Carlos' hands and ran to you. You bent down when you saw Cael and opened your arms for him. 

“God, Cael where have you been, my love? I was worried about you. Are you okay?” You hugged Cael tightly.

“I am okay, Mama. Sorry, I got distracted by a ball and followed it,” Cael said feeling sorry for worrying you.

“It’s okay, love. I’m relieved that you're fine. Mama’s here now,” You replied and kissed Cael’s cheeks.

“A gentleman who looks like Papa helped me find you Mama. He is so kind,” Cael said.

“Hmm?” It took few seconds for you to come back to your senses.

Right, how did Cael find his way back?

“There he is Mama,” Cael said and pointed to Carlos who has been staring at you two for a while now.

Cold sweats gush out of your body. The man you loved, the father of your child, the man you have been avoiding to see for the past five years is standing in flesh in front of you looking devilishly handsome. You can tell how confused he is right now and how you just want to run away with Cael any minute now.

Cael he does not look like your Papa. He is your Papa.

next part

[lovemyavatar]

Hello, pretty! First of all your writing is so good, I'm hooked! And if u don't mind can I request a fluff (maybe smut?) of Neteyam being so clingy in public, that man can't keep his hands to himself fr and I know for a fact that he would always rub it in people faces (especially the one's who failed to court you) like he would throw a glare when he notices someone staring at you for a second too long before kissing you on the spot while looking straight into their eyes.

Mine

Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, mild angst, fluff, lil hint of smut

Yours (part two)

Neteyam still can’t believe you chose him.

Despite being the future Olo’eyktan and a skilled warrior, he has a tendency to view himself as less than. But you…you are easily the most beautiful and sought after woman in the clan. So, despite the fact that you’re already mated, that you’ve chosen him for life, he constantly feels the need to assert his claim in the presence of other men.

Like in the morning, when you’re helping with meal preparation. You’re always in the same spot, washing the newest collection of fruit, so he’ll easily settle against your back without so much as a hello.

“Morning, yawntutsyip (darling).” A soft smile pulls at your lips, cheeks warming under the public display of affection.

Neteyam nuzzles against your shoulder, humming lowly as his lips caress the skin of your neck. His hands completely dwarf your hips, long fingers curling around them before gently guiding you closer to him. You instantly relax against the warmth of his chest, a contented sigh adding to the quiet morning bustle.

What you don't notice is the way his eyes scan the area, pointedly glaring at every man who dares glance in your direction. It's mostly accidental, really, few would openly challenge the future Olo'eyktan for his mate, but Neteyam doesn't see it that way. Every single look, touch, conversation is something he needs to monitor closely, ensuring it doesn't go too far.

When you sit with his family for meals, he crowds in close, until his arm presses against yours and his tail firmly wraps around your waist. If you'll be with any of his siblings for the day, he practically threatens them into watching you closely too.

On the rare occasion that he can't be physically near you, he does his best to remain within eyesight. His attention locks on you, on anyone who approaches you, mentally daring them to even try acting out of line. He isn't a violent person, but Eywa, he wouldn't hesitate to protect what's his.

He's always finding ways to touch you, and you love it. You aren't fully aware of his true motives, simply appreciating how smitten he seems to be. No matter how busy he is, he makes his adoration known with a simple brush of his hand along your back in passing, or a quick peck of his lips on yours before his father inevitably rips him away.

It's mostly innocent, his little routine, until someone who once courted you pushes him too far. There are only a few who dared vie for your affections at the same time as Neteyam.

Truthfully, you didn't pay any of them much attention, only accepting their courting gifts politely as you're expected to do. From the beginning, he had your heart, your decision was made early on and there wasn’t any real competition.

But still, to this day, if one of them gets too close, lingers for too long, Neteyam is instantly on high alert. Like right now.

He's absolutely seething, jaw clenched so firmly he fears he might crack a tooth. His short nails dig into his palms, fists tightened at the ready.

“Mawey (calm), Neteyam.” His grandmother demands roughly, forcing his fingers apart as she works on his battered chest. “You are too tense for wrapping.”

He lets his hands fall onto his thighs instead, fingers splayed and pressing harshly into his skin. His head sways side to side, peering over her as she kneels before him, tending to the injuries he suffered on the latest supply run.

He doesn't pay her poking and prodding any mind, full attention locked on you across the clearing. You're helping, as you always do, dutifully patching up the wounded. He had every intention of being the one beneath your gentle hands, but his grandmother got to him first. He tried, he really did, but there's no arguing with Mo'at.

His jaw grinds as he watches you rub yalnabark into a warriors shoulder. But not just any warrior, of course, it's one of the men who once tried to court you. His heart thrums harshly between his ribs when your head tilts back ever so slightly, a beautiful laugh twinkling from your lips.

Your lips that should only ever part that way for him. Your hands that should only ever touch him. A dangerous possessiveness brews deep wtihin his belly, whispering that everything about you is his. His to claim, to touch, to protect. Just simply his.

In an instant, he's on his feet. Completely ignoring his grandmother's protests—which he knows will get him into trouble later—but he can't find it within himself to care. There's no way he can endure this for even a moment longer.

He approaches swiftly, fists clenched all over again as he stalks toward you from behind. His face is marred with a dark glare, chin dipped, gaze molten beneath his thick brow.

“That's enough.” He barks roughly, large hand covering yours to peel it from the man's skin.

A tiny gasp lodges in your throat at his sudden presence, shoulders stiffening at the firm grasp. Your muscles relax a fraction when wide eyes find your mate, but the relief only lasts for a few seconds as you take in his furious state.

“Neteyam?” Your voice is gentle, questioning, as you place a comforting hand on his bicep.

He doesn't even glance your way, the full force of his wrath locked onto the other warrior.

“Find someone else to finish.” He orders, tone dripping with finality.

The man looks up at him with a blank expression, undeterred. “She's just patching me up, man.”

Neteyam's vision blurs, red dotting his periphery as his chest tightens with rage. Where you see a man simply defending the fact that what you were doing was completely innocent, Neteyam catches the way his lips twitch into a defiant smirk. Sees the challenge swelling just below the surface.

“Like I said, find someone else to do it.” Neteyam steps forward, spine straightening as he towers over the man, ready to pounce at any moment.

“‘Teyam...” His name is a warning under your breath as you move closer, urging him to calm down.

“What? You don't trust your girl or something?” Now, it's clear that was a direct challenge, and it makes you gasp in shock.

Neteyam doesn't hesitate, jerking forward until his fingers wrap firmly around the man's throat. You can't help but cry out, hands moving to cover your mouth as the situation quickly escalates. The man’s good arm instantly claws at the tight hold restricting his airflow, eyes widening in horror.

“Neteyam, please!” You hiss, pulling at his shoulder, panic gripping you as a few curious eyes drift your way.

Finally, he relents, releasing the man and letting you jerk him away. He’s trembling with pent up emotion, muscles coiled tight, but he doesn’t want to cause a scene. Not now, while the clan is regrouping after such a stressful mission.

“Disrespect my mate again, and I’ll show you what a real warrior is capable of.” He doesn’t even sound like himself, voice deep, the warning accented with a ferocious growl.

The man simply watches you drag Neteyam away, stunned that the always docile future Olo’eytkan actually fought back.

You don’t stop until you’ve reached your shared tent, practically shoving him through the entrance. It flaps shut harshly behind you as you stomp in after him, hands resting on your hips when he turns to face you. His ears flatten at your agitation, head dipping in shame.

“What the hell was that?” You snap, fiery gaze boring into his pointedly.

“I didn’t like the way you were touching him.” He knows he took it too far, knows you did nothing wrong, but there’s no escaping the anger that still courses through him. He fights to keep his tone even when he speaks to you, desperate not to make the situation worse.

“You mean when I was tending to his wounds?” Your hands wave animatedly in exasperation, scoffing at the absurdity of it all. “I’m the future Tsahik. What do you want me to do?”

He growls low in his chest, stalking forward until you’re face to face, a mere few inches between you. “You are mine. You agreed to that when we mated. I have every right—”

“You have no right!” You can’t help but shout as frustration curls in your stomach. Your fingers shove against his chest lightly, careful to avoid his freshly wrapped injuries. “You don’t see me threatening other women for simply existing in your presence, do you?”

He forces a tense breath through pursed lips, trying to calm down. This is quickly turning into a fight between the two of you, which is the last thing he wants. He reaches out, fingers gently curling around your arms to stop you from pacing before him.

“I’m sorry, yawne (beloved). I just…I can’t stand the thought of anyone…taking you from me.” His voice is soft, quiet, face tightening as the words leave him. It’s difficult to admit this, to bring attention to his deepest insecurity.

He is the son of Toruk Makto, a mighty warrior, and the future leader of the clan. He isn’t supposed to feel such things, to worry about losing you to another. He’s supposed to exude hard edges and confidence at all times. Not weakness, like he shows now as he stands before you, bearing it all.

“Oh, Nete.” You coo, eyes rounding as you cup his cheek softly. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed with a heavy sigh.

You had no idea he held this turmoil inside, was fighting to remain stoic while watching your every interaction with another. It all makes sense now, his constant desire to keep you close. It wasn’t coming from a place of love, but rather uncertainty.

“I am yours, okay? Come here.” Your gentle touch guides him those last few inches closer, until his lips brush yours in a light caress.

He responds eagerly, relief flooding his system at the fact that you aren’t upset with him, that you understand. His palms skim down your arms before releasing you so he can engulf your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

His tongue parts your lips, laying claim to your mouth as he groans slowly, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The kiss quickly becomes feverish, passionate as the desire to assert his ownership of you becomes overwhelming.

You pull away suddenly, fingers tangling in his braids to tug his lips from yours. He growls in protest, chasing your touch as you lean back a few inches. Your heavy-lidded gaze meets his, chest heaving as your heart thrums wildly.

“How do you want me?” You purr, sultry eyes blinking up at him through thick lashes.

“What?” He pants, breathless from the insinuation beneath your words alone. His tail twitches to attention at his back, swaying with excitement.

“I will prove that no other man could even come close to taking me away. Now, how do you want me?” Your fingertips trail down the column of his throat, causing a shiver to roll down his spine.

“On your knees.” The command is gritted through clenched teeth, cock already straining behind his loincloth.

You instantly obey, slowly kneeling before him, hands smoothing down his broad chest and tight stomach on the way down. Your fingers make quick work of releasing his pulsing length, gaze flicking over the huge appendage eagerly as it springs free. Sharp teeth catch your lower lip, tongue wetting your lips in anticipation.

Your eyes catch his just as your mouth closes around his swollen tip, watching in satisfaction as a long moan rumbles his chest, head tilting back at the feeling.

You settle into the floor, finding a comfortable position, ready to show him just how much you belong to him, and only him.

let me know if you guys want a smutty part two 👀

[lovelybrooke]

Since my hazbin hotel concept didn't really go over the characters reactions to the readers dissaperrance, I thought I'd go over it here.

masterlist

---

Charlie

Charlie is so, so very sad. She doesn't know what she did wrong, why would you leave? Part of her wonders if it's her, if it's the hotel, maybe she did something wrong and now you're gone.

Charlie devotes all her time into finding you, you have to be somewhere. But after days and days of looking and finding nothing, not even a trace, she starts to feel like it's hopeless.

Charlie switches between intense depression and motivation constantly. She'll spend weeks in her room, alone, only letting Vaggie in. Then, suddenly, she'll burst out and demand that they get on with the search. It's like she's a completely different person, but deep down, everyone can tell that she's racked with guilt.

She just has to find you, she'll even get his dad to help if it comes to it. It doesn't matter, whatever it takes. She just wants to apologize for...whatever she did. Once you're back in the hotel, she'll make everything right, so right that you won't want to leave again.

Vaggie

Vaggie is well...Vaggie. She's conflicted. She doesn't know whether to feel afraid, upset, worried. It's too many emotions to shift through, too complicated. Because of these complicated feelings, she has a hard time being there for Charlie. She want's to help with the search, she really does, but at the same time she doesn't want to have to accept the fact that you truly are gone.

Lucifer isn't even able to find you, Alastor isn't even able to find you. You have to bee somewhere far away to stay out of there reach. The longer you're gone, the longer she's left wondering what made you leave. In your last few days at the hotel you were distant, like mentally. You were incapable of paying attention to anyone or anything, and thinking back on it, she should've known something was up.

She feels ashamed for being so guarded around you, for making it seem like she was weary of you. She was, but the point still stands. You're a nice kid, way too nice to be in hell. Maybe heaven realized that, and sent you back to where you belonged. No--

She won't have that, that isn't right, and it's not fair. It's not fair to Charlie, it's not fair to her, it's not fair to anyone else. You shouldn't just get to dig yourself into everyone in the hotel and then get ripped away when they finally accepted it. It's not fair.

If it was heaven that took you from them, she'll make them pay.

Angel

Angel wants closure.

He gets why you left, he really does. You're too good for this place, for all these people, and so you left, he gets it. What he wants is for you to tell him to his face that it wasn't his fault.

He looks back on his interactions with you, him closing himself off only to welcome you in at the very last moment, the moment where he craved friendship and stability the most, only to then push you away when you needed him. You were struggling, with--something.

Something he has no understanding of. He can't decipher anything behind those blank eyes, he can't figure out what your monotone words mean, and it worries him. He wants to be there for you, offer you comfort, anything.

But he knows he'll just ruin you more. He'll say something, do something, and you'll leave him, you'll hate him. He'll infect you, ruin you, until you're nothing more than a shell of what you used to be, and he hates the thought.

But it doesn't matter now, because even after keeping you at arms length, after depriving himself of you, you still leave, and all he's left with is the pain of not knowing. Not knowing if he did something, if he hurt you, if this is his fault.

But what hurts the most is the pain of not knowing if he could've done something, said something, did anything other than wallow in his own pity and desperation.

Maybe if he did you'd still be here. But he'd never know, would he.

Husk

Husk immediately assumes Alastor is to blame.

That Radio Demon is up to something, he's been gone for days since you left, doing whatever the fuck. He assumes, hopes, that Alastor is looking for you, because if anyones to find you its him. But of course, Alastor tells him nothing. So all he can do is hope.

Hope that you're somewhere safe, somewhere good. He hopes that there's someone nice taking care of you, or that you're at least taking care of yourself. He hopes that you're happy, and healthy, and everything else a kid should be. Because ultimately that's all Husk has, is hope.

He wonders what he could've done, if anything. He wonders what Alastor is going to do, if anything. He wonders what's going to eventually happen when they don't find you, and you're gone, and everyone just has to accept that you're not coming back. He wonders if that's even possible.

Because as a bartender he watches as Angel drink his days away, and as Charlie slaves away with searching for you, and as Vaggie spends all her time in her head.

And when Alastor is at the Hotel, he watches as he converses with Charlie, both of them talking in hushed whispers. He can hear the static, and the screams, and the pleas as Alastor demands to know how you haven't been found. And for a second, he sees worry in Alastor.

And in turn, Husk worries, because if you, and you disappearing, is so easily capable of making Alastor lose his composer, than something must be wrong. If Alastor isn't able to find you, and it's making him worry then it must be serious, it must be real.

But even so, Husk hopes. He hopes you're safe, and happy, and healthy. Because now there's the possibility that you're not coming back, and Husk has nothing left but hope.

Alastor

Alastor knew something was up with you.

From the moment you appeared in Hell, he knew you weren't right. You were too...alive for a demon. You were too naive for someone in Hell. You were too human.

For a while, there was nothing Alastor could do to prove his thoughts and honesty, he didn't want to. It was fun, watching as you stumble about this world completely unaware of what you've gotten yourself into. You're interesting, and you intrigue him. You should be proud, that's not something most can do.

But as your stay in hell lengthens, his feelings for you a mudded. His intrigue is turned into obsession, an obsession for you naivety, for you humanness. It makes him wonder how, or why you're down here. What you must've done to be placed here, even if you are somehow alive.

Alastor hasn't felt like this in a long time, and a part of him despises you for it. He hates the feelings that washes through his chest when he's around you, almost paternal like. He hates the way he faltered when he was told of your disappearance. And he hates the anger that course through him after weeks of not being able to find you.

Alastor looks everywhere, in every corner of Hell for any sign of you, and comes up with nothing, and it enrages him. It's an emotion he's more familiar with, rage, and for some reason hates it.

Because this type of rage is only direct at people who take you from him, this type of rage means you had the gaul to leave him. But this type of rage is the thing motivating him to keep searching and he looks forward to when you back with him.

Because you will be back with him, and the rage will be gone, and instead be replaced with that sweat, unfamiliar obsession that he's come to crave.

[bandgie]

Hate You So

prince!bangchan x fem!reader

MDNI 18+, fantasy au, enemies-to-lovers (kinda), oral (f!), cum swapping, brief overstim (f!), biting, brief thigh humping

ask here! notes: I am not taking requests, however, I am interested in this one with my own version ofc

3.2k words

There is never a dull moment with Prince Chan. His words are belittling, his eyes are full of scorn when he looks at you in all his ruthless beauty. Sometimes you wish you could ignore his piercing gaze, but he bores his eyes into the back of your head so harshly you feel it burning.

Even without his hatred, it would be hard to turn away from him. With full lips, plump cheeks, and strong nose, it really is hard to think of him as anything below attractive. Still, you know better than to approach him unless you wish to cry yourself to sleep that night.

A masked ball is the perfect opportunity for you to slip away. Pretend to be someone you're not, or perhaps it's to show your true self behind a false face. Not that it matters. A night like this allows you to put the puzzling hatred the prince has for you far behind your mind.

Drink after drink, spin after spin and you find yourself in the arms of the Viscount Felix. You can tell it's him from the way he adorns himself in jewelry, his hair the color of the sun itself. His deep blue robe stitched with silver treading in layers. It must be difficult to dance in heavy clothes, but he twirls you in his arms easily.

"Ah, isn't it the beautiful Duchess," he regards you with a sly smirk. His eyes peek out from his silver mask underneath.

You narrow your eyes, though you doubt he can see much of your facial expressions from your black mask. "How did you know?" To this, Felix's smirk widens to a smile. "Even behind such a clever guise, your charm seeps through the fabric."

You mock the sound of laughter. "Is this a trick of flattery to get my hand in marriage? To help you rise higher than a Viscount?"

Felix's eyes gleam with mischief. "You think too highly of yourself, dear Duchess. I simply wish to lay in your bed."

Now you laugh. Your voice is swallowed from the sounds of heels clicking on the ground and loud chatter. The two of you dance steadily despite the liquor running in your veins. Felix is careful not to spin you too fast or dip you too low. He may speak vulgar, but he is every bit gentleman in every other way.

"I think I'd like that very much, if I'm to be truthful," you say once you're swaying evenly in his hold. "I can't recall the last time I've been properly loved." Felix makes a sound of understanding, eyes darting to the people around you.

It's improper of you to speak in such a way. You are of high status, and talking like this not only in public, but to someone of lower ranking is foolish. Still, it's this potty mouth that gives you and Felix such a close bond. The fact that you can speak freely without judgment.

Chris does not share your sentiment.

He can hear your crass words from where he dances with his own partner. It sickens him to know that you openly express lustful desires, but it disturbs him even more that he finds himself jealous.

His partner is speaking, but he doesn't pay attention to any words she says. He strains his ears to eavesdrop on the conversation with you and the brightly hair-colored Viscount.

"Is that so?" Chris hears the deep voice of the man dancing with you. "Sounds like that is quite the problem. Has no one caught your eye? Do you think no one is worthy of seeing your wholeness?"

You react as if you tire of your dancing partner, rolling your eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. The person I have my eye on would rather see me burn, that's all." The smile on your lips falter. Despite his better self, Chris wonders who would turn down such an opportunity to spend a night with you. What a foolish man.

"And pry tell, who is this person?" Felix speaks as though he read Chris's mind.

"The Prince."

Ah, that makes sense. Chris can't count the amount of times he's upset you, the times he's spewed swears cruel enough to make your eyes water. He brushed it off as you being too sensitive, too emotional. But he knows deep down, it's so he doesn't get close to you.

Felix's eyes widen and his jaw drops. He looks at you with alarm, and some fear, then he hisses under his breath. "I am not one to tell you what to do and how to speak, but I highly suggest you refrain from speaking ill about the royal blood in their own castle."

He has a point, it's treason to speak how you are now. But the alcohol makes not only your thoughts, but your words careless. "So then tell me, what do you suggest? I tire of my lonely state. I think I'm up for any suggestions you have."

Before Felix answers, his eyes dance around the room one last time to spot any itching ears. Chris, despite being a prince, turns his head to finally acknowledge his partner and try to pick up on the conversation. Once Felix determines there are no listeners, he says, "Perhaps you should lure the prince into your sheets. You say you want love, but I argue hate is a much more fun way to spend the night."

A wicked smile finds its way to Felix's lips that you can't help but match. "Now look who's speaking ill" you say. "Plus, that's a terrible idea. I will regret it in the morning."

To this, Felix shrugs. "Then let him make sweet hate to you past sunrise."

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

Chris should know his luck is thin. Only the universe would have him push you away so much so only for you to want him with the same intensity. It mocks him even now as you stand outside of his chambers when he wanted to get away from you as far as possible.

"Did you follow me here?" He questions you with authority. You swoop into a deep curtsy and bow your head, "Yes, your majesty."

You don't have to look up to know he's sneering at you, lips pulled back into a snarl. Felix, along with the bitter alcohol, gave you too much confidence. Sure you may not be of low status, but standing before a prince unnerves you.

Especially when you followed him with intentions.

"If you want me to ask why, you will be disappointed. Leave me." Chris looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to take those steps back. You never do, however, but instead pick your head up and stride deeper into his room, shutting the door.

His eyebrows furrow and a blush crawls its way up his neck. Chris tries to mask his surprise with anger. "Stupid wrench. Can you not listen to simple instructions?" His eyes that are filled with anger slowly dissipates when he sees you reel back at his words.

You fiddle with your hands nervously and you suddenly feel as though you cannot do this at all. How are you, a duchess, supposed to ensnare a prince who hates you so? Doubt clogs your mind, but you are already here. It would be far too shameful to turn away without even trying.

"Why do you hate me so?" That's not what you were supposed to say. You were supposed to sound flirtatious, experienced. Instead, you're meek and quiet. For a moment you doubt the prince even heard you, but the disheartened look in his eyes says otherwise.

He sighs, running his jeweled fingers in his brown hair. A prince is to never be vulnerable, to show weakness in fear of exploitation. In the presence of your teary eyes, however, none of that seems to matter.

Chris takes a deep breath, "I hate you for many things."

Your jaw drops. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. A foolish part of you thought maybe it was a misunderstanding, but there's no time to reply when the prince carries on.

"I hate that I think about you every hour of everyday. I hate that you live freely while I have to act accordingly." He takes a step to you. "I hate how you look at me with those hidden eyes. I hate it even more that I know it's you underneath that plain mask." Chris is close enough to reach for your face and he does just that. Gentle fingers undo the knot that keeps your mask on and he lets it fall to the ground.

"I hate that I know your voice, that I ache to hear it. I hate that I know in which way you walk, should you be in my castle." His fingertips ghost over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I hate that I dream of you and I hate when I wake from those dreams."

Chris traces the outline of your lips, watching how your tongue darts out to taste his fingers. He shudders.

"Worst of all," he leans close to your face, a kiss away from you. "I hate that it's only for one night that I will be yours."

You don't kiss him back at first. You can't even register his plush lips on yours. How they move steadily, sickly sweet. The prince tastes faintly of alcohol, but not enough to overpower his kiss. You come back to when his hands find your waist, pressing you closer to his warm body.

A part of you thinks maybe this is a test. That when you begin moving your mouth with his, he'd pull away and laugh. Chris doesn't do that though and instead groans against your lips when you finally reciprocate.

Shaky hands find their way to his styled hair, tugging on his curls to bring him closer. It doesn't take long before you're both chest to chest, one of his legs between yours as you stand, and breathing into each other's mouths. His kiss is bruising, filled with the overwhelming desire he claims to hate.

Chris nips on your lower lip, pulling it back harshly to hear you whimper. Then he kisses you again, messily sliding his tongue against yours. His lips travel down your cheek, your jawline, to your neck. You shiver at his warm tongue tasting your skin, hips rocking on his thigh.

The grip on your waist only tightens to keep pressure on you grinding on him. You feel him smile against your throat. "Humping me like a little bunny, aren't you?" He lifts his head to whisper in your ear, biting your earlobe. "Is my leg enough to satiate your lust?"

You shake your head, "N-no. It's not, my prince." Chris rewards your honesty by moving his hands from your waist. He lifts the many layers of your dress in bunches, holding them above your hips. You take the hint and grasp them in your own fingers, watching him descend lower...

...and lower... ...and lower...

The prince kneels before you, facing your core. You gasp, and despite dreaming about this with your hand underneath your nightgown, it's still an unbelievable sight. No royal blood is to kneel before another, let alone you of lower ranking.

"Prince Christopher!" You sound slightly panicked. "You mustn't! To kneel before...not even that! You must have drunken one too many glasses. I shouldn't have-"

You cut yourself off with a yelp. You feel Chris's teeth dig into the soft flesh of your thighs. He does it hard enough to see his teeth imprints when he pulls back. "You think of me drunk," he says it with accusation. "But how could I be drunk off wine when I could be drunk off this instead?"

Though you can't see him from the frills of the many layers of your dress, it helps ease your nerves when he hooks his finger under your panties. Your hips jolt when the cold air hits your bare cunt, but his warm breath quickly replaces it.

Chris trails kisses just next to your core, his hands planted on each thigh. His fingers makes shapeless figures, dancing closer to where you throb just before pulling away. It's bearable it first, his teasing. But then you start to feel yourself dripping, arousal seeping from your folds. His lips ghost over your clit, moving to the next thigh.

You tremble, trying to move your hips so his mouth catches your pussy. You're met with a chuckle, deep and quiet. It makes you more impatient, whining. "My prince please. I cannot bear it."

The prince pulls away from you completely, leaning back to look up at you. He looks silly beneath where you stand. His mouth red and curls messy from your earlier tugging, but his wet lips are frowning. "Are you, a duchess, telling me, a prince, what to do?"

Shit, you got too comfortable. "Of course not," your voice wavers. From fear or lust, you're not sure. "I didn't mean to offend you, I just-"

"You're quite the nervous talker, aren't you?" Chris's once pouting lips turn into a smirk. His observation makes you blush, though you're sure your face was already a deep shade of red since the beginning.

He smiles at your reaction, teeth gleaming in the candlelit room. "No need to fret, pretty duchess. I told you that tonight I am yours. If my mouth on you is what you desire, then so be it."

You watch as Chris dives forward to the empty space between your legs. His tongue darts out to taste you directly, going under your lower lips to collect your arousal. The warmth from his mouth makes you squeal, but his hands move to the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

It's hot, wet, and a little rough when he licks you. He trails his tongue upwards to rub soft circles on your nub before dipping back down. Chris moves his hands higher until they're under your hiked dress, gripping your arse. His fingers kneed into your soft flesh, forcing you deeper into his mouth.

There's a guttural moan that leaves him, sending waves through your cunt. Chris opts to suck on your flesh, pulling it only to let it go with a wet 'pop!' The sensation makes you shiver, legs buckling for a second before you regain your composure.

"This is..." the prince trails off. He buries his nose on your clit, sticking his tongue out to prod at your entrance. There's no doubt that the evidence of your shame is dripping from his chin, but he acts as though he doesn't mind. He hardly cares how your legs squeeze and how the hair on your pelvis tickles his face when he painfully pushes his face deeper into you.

This is divine.

You want nothing more than to grind on his face, hump on his tongue like the bunny he said you are. But your legs shake so much, your knees lock so often you see your vision go black for seconds. Finishing on the prince's face is something you could have only dreamt of. Yet here he is, seeming to eagerly coax a release from you. Surely he must be flushed himself, straining painfully in his trousers.

"P-Prince Christopher I- oh~ I'm so close. Do you want me to...should I..."

It's difficult to finish your sentence when you're so close to finishing in his warm mouth. You want to taste him how he's doing to you, you want to feel how his length would stretch you out. He must feel the same way, he has to.

But he only shakes his head with your pussy still in his mouth. "You should cum," he says breathlessly. "Let me taste this, drink you in. I've never had a cunt as pretty as yours."

Hot kisses rapidly peck on your clit. The prince spits messily on your already wet core, but he quickly spreads it all over your lips. Chris moves you up and down by your ass, encouraging you to ride his face. The idea of hesitating and passing the opportunity is behind you. You feel as though you might crush his head with the force of your legs, but he takes it all.

It makes sense why you're moaning, writhing under the tongue of the prince. But it makes you wonder why he's so loud himself. Groaning at your taste and whining when your hips shy away from his relentless mouth. You can hear him mumble mostly to himself. Mindlessly babbling soft words of praises.

"So good." "Pretty pussy." "Fuck. Ride my tongue, just like that."

Maybe he's trying to help get you to your high, but it makes you distantly wonder, nonetheless.

You whimper at the feeling of pleasure building in your stomach. It bundles and quivers until you drop the hem of your dress to reach down and grip Chris by the hair. He ignores how the layers surround him like blankets. You feel him gasp against your pussy when you slide your cunt up and down his face.

"S-sorry," you apologize pathetically. "Close. Wanna cum- fuck! wanna cum. Please forgive me." You mewl more apologies before vibrating with pleasure. Chris can't protest as you finish on his tongue, and he seems to rather like it with the way his blunt fingernails stab into the skin of your bottom.

You keep him there on your cunt as your body trembles with aftershocks from your orgasm. The prince obediently licks you throughout it all, collection your cream before loudly gulping it down. Your shaky hands finally release him from your grip, but Chris is persistent on giving your quivering clit final kisses.

Even if you try to move your hips from his mouth, he keeps you in place. "Your majesty," you struggle to find your voice from how much you were moaning. "Please. It's so sensitive."

He licks a fat stripe along your pussy to hear you cry out one final time. "You ask for me to taste you. You practically beg for me to let you finish on my tongue and when I do, you tell me to stop. Tell me, duchess, what is it that you want from me exactly?"

It's a simple question that has a simple answer, yet, saying it would bring complicated issues you know neither of you are able to face.

You. The word is on the tip of your tongue, but you settle for saying, "T-to please you, if you'll have me." It's close enough to what you actually want.

Chris finally brings himself to his feet, reaching for your fallen mask on his way up. He hands you the fabric, but you're so distracted with his face that you gasp.

He's soaked in your juices, his face glistens in the rising moonlight coming from his window. It's almost offensive to look at, reminding you of how you lost yourself so easily.

The prince only smiles at your words, your shocked expression. "Don't worry about my pleasure, pretty duchess." He leans in to kiss you, eyes fluttering closed upon impact. You can taste yourself on him, the bitter flavor settling on your tongue and invading your senses. It brings a new wave of desire, of an aching want.

"There," he gives you a dazzling smile when he pulls away. A string of saliva mixed with your arousal connect your lips. "Have a taste of yourself instead."

[lovingjingyuan]

Just thinking about Yan Sunday with Layla reader…

Reader is so tired, weak and stressed all the time about her study and thesis… reader’s state could be vulnerable to him since he can grabs her so easily.

Or Cryo Vision? He just need to keep away from you, make you lose memories and lies that you are his lover.

Please, I need Sunday post with Layla reader..

Yess Ofccc! I love Layla sm she's so pretty and I relate to her a lot, but I ignore my work on purpose. But her design is so pretty when I first saw her she became my favorite immorality like Furina! I Barely sleep now because of tests and exams. Also Thank you for the request <3

Pairing: Sunday x Layla reader

Warnings: Yandere Sunday, a bit ooc, mention of drugging/spike drink, manipulation

-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

The paper, assignment, and late work kept piling up on you. You can't catch a break even after completing each assignment. Your sleep schedule started getting messy which raised concern from Sunday.

Yet Sunday never liked how you pushed everything aside to focus on your academics. He secretly hated the mentions of your future that’s without his picture in there. How you'll leave the dreamscape in Penacony once you graduate and finish your studies here, yet he kept a happy smile pretending to support your goals.

Recently a big project and essay was coming soon. You need to submit your thesis and get it approved as soon as possible. Writing endless papers piling up anything to get this approved like your life depends on it.

Sunday lent you his office since the library was packed with others trying to get their thesis approved too. Sunday quietly works on his paperwork reading the new bills and policies trying to get passed. Work was keeping you both busy yet you still couldn't help but start dozing off.

Your head and eyes felt heavy falling slightly. Your tired body rested against Sunday's shoulders causing him to look up from his paperwork and towards you. He raised an eyebrow before smiling and caressing your cheeks.

The tea he offered you really seemed to take effect quickly. He couldn't help but to spike your tea before offering it to you. He couldn't stand seeing the eye bags under your eyes when you forced yourself awake even though your body was already weak enough. The way you've been ignoring him and growing distant from him to focus on your studies, he despises the fact you cared more about your academics than him.

He caressed your hand gently. He was glad you were deeply asleep knowing he was soon going to perform the last step to keep you for himself…

You woke up in a room and stretched. You felt more at ease but a sinking feeling appeared in your heart when you realized your thesis and project was due.

You scrambled, throwing the blanket off and seeing Sunday's hands stopping you and shushing you holding you in his arms.

"What's the matter? You looked at peace when sleeping?" He cooed at you brushing his hands through your strands of hair.

You stumbled over your words as you tried explaining your thesis still needed to be submitted before the due date. Sunday's face darkens slightly as he forms a wan smile

"Oh, the one you were working on? A friend of yours came in stating they were your partner for this thesis and were going to submit the thesis for you today," He held your hands in his.

Your face and heart dropped so far below. You sobbed as you scrambled hugging yourself and started ignoring his words. You were furious at Sunday even though you knew it wasn't his fault for falling for this trick. You’ve never told him what you were working on anyway.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry I didn't know," he said in his sweet tongue. Gosh, you really can't hate him but blame yourself.

In the end, the due date passed and it was too late. You sobbed and sobbed as Sunday held you in his arms comforting you. You were so fragile to him. A fragile weak human who needed his and The Harmony's protection, yet mostly for you to rely on him.

As you cried you looked in his pile of trash paper to see your thesis. You pushed yourself off him and grabbed the paper pushing aside his pile of documents and scattering them all over the floor.

Fury arose yet you sat there in complete silence and confusion, "why?" You muttered weakly dropping the paper as you broke out into a sob, "Why Sunday? Why did you lie?"

Sunday wing's on his head tense up as well as his expression as his smiles slowly fade away.

"What do you mean? Your thesis? I thought you meant the project you were working on earlier," He tries to hide his guilty expression by the fact he was caught in a lie.

Before you could comment you were dragged out by the Bloodhound Family. Sunday was going to make sure you never stress over any academics again.

You open your eyes in a white room. You sat up smelling a familiar white room and bed. A hospital? You looked and saw a man. Gray hair, white angel wings on his head, a golden halo floating above his head, and a sweet angelic smile plastered on his face.

"I'm Sunday... Do you remember me, darling?" The man named Sunday introduces himself with a question. Yet even though he felt similar you couldn't break down why.

"I feel like I know you"

"That's great darling" he brushed the hair from your forehead planting a kiss on your head. "I'm your lover, not just your boyfriend."

You didn't stop him but sympathized with his feelings. Sunday was never going to let you leave this dream now. You'll never have to cry or mess up your sleep schedule and health anymore. You were just too fragile to face reality so he’ll insist the dreamscape is the only safe haven for your fragile body. This was the true dream he longed for and he will make sure you love it too. 

[lovewithmary]

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock? ★ notes: early chapter bc I am too impatient so I’m taking the poll results as is and assuming charles is the winner. anyways, drama is happening!!!

previous next series masterlist

"Evie's baking,"

"We know,"

"My daughter is baking for two tiny villages or two super soldiers, and none of you thought to ask if there was something wrong?" Tony asked, watching as his fellow Avengers, his wife, and his youngest daughter were all eating the pastries that Evie had been baking since she got off the phone.

"Parker tried grabbing the spatula from her hand, but she threw a bowl at his head. But luckily his Peter Tingle saved him and he dodged," Bucky explained, mouthful with a slice of one of the cakes Evie made.

"I told you not to call it the Peter Tingle!" Peter complained.

"I think she had a fight with Max," Morgan's tiny voice piped up, oblivious to the heads that turned to her.

"Morg, why didn't you say that earlier?" Pepper asked.

Morgan blinked innocently and shrugged, then said, "You didn't ask,"

"Okay, who wants to be the one to ask her about Max?"

A tense air fell between some of the most powerful people in the world, only for them to touch their noses and say, "Not it!"

Unfortunately for him, Tony himself was the last one to do it, which made him curse. "I should've just stayed in my lab," he muttered but went to the kitchen to see that Evie was already starting another batch of cupcakes as if the pile of used cupcake liners between Steve and Bucky wasn't enough.

"Hello, tesoro," Tony greeted, concerned at the fact that Evie barely reacted at the sound of his voice.

"The dining room isn't that far from the kitchen, papa. I don't need to have powers or be a Super Soldier to hear you guys," Evie commented.

"So, will it be easier to ask what happened between you and Max that's made you spiral into a hurricane of frosting— is that macrons? When did you learn how to make macrons?" Tony asked, caught off-guard.

"Max and I had a little misunderstanding. And I didn't know how to make macrons until earlier," Evie responded.

"A little misunderstanding? You're taking over my kitchen with baked goods for a little misunderstanding?"

"I will find a way to bake you if you don't stop!" She threateningly responded, the aforementioned spatula Peter tried taking was in her hand menacingly pointed at Tony.

Tony raised his arms up in surrender, "I won't ask then. I will just be here, in the corner of the kitchen, giving you moral support," he said, taking a step away from his daughter and near the door just in case.

Silence fell between the father and daughter, Evie angrily making a bowl of frosting while Tony was thinking about whether or not he had to bring in Pepper for his own moral support.

That was until, "Do I insert myself into people's business too much? Is it something I do regularly?" Evie blurted out.

"I think you insert yourself into people's business when you think you need to. I don't think it's a lot, but then again, you help me with my business, so I can't say it's too much," Tony shrugged.

She groaned, not getting a clear answer. She should've known that her dad wasn't going to outright tell her when she was being too invasive. "I'm serious, dad," she told him.

"Did Max say something? Whatever he said, ignore it. He drives for a living, he's wrong no matter what,"

"I thought you liked Max. You've known him since he was a kid,"

"I don't like him if he makes my daughter upset,"

"Dad..."

"What did he say?" Tony asked once more.

Evie sighed before washing her hands and grabbing her phone from the pocket of her apron and then giving it to her dad, unlocked and the texts already on the screen. She watched as her dad's face turned angry.

"I'll shoot him out of the sky with one of my repulsors—"

"Dad, no,"

"He didn't have to talk to you like that! That little shit—"

"What do I do?" Evie interrupted him, knowing that if she let him rant, he'd end up wearing one of the Iron Man suits, already on the way to wherever the next race was.

"Do what Starks do best,"

"Which is?"

"To get under people's skin,"

[ddejavvu]

ok pls i need you tp write this bc i can’t - reader gets into a fight with an unsub and ends up with a nosebleed she doesn’t notice afterward, and hotch tenderly holds her face and wipes it away

if you're interested in hotch holding reader's face to wipe away her nosebleed i'd recommend this lovely story from the equally lovely @luveline, several lines of which i think about daily ("Oh, honey." 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗)

--

You can only breathe easy once the doors to the cop car shut, and the unsub is driven away. He's out of sight and out of mind, and your shoulders sag with the weight of the worries sliding off of them. You're exhausted, and hearing Hotch's voice directing your team members is a welcome sound to your ears that have been ringing with sirens for far too long.

"Dave, you make sure Morgan gets checked out by the EMTs. He is not okay, no matter what he tells you."

"Will do," Rossi nods, wandering over to where Morgan is rubbing at his sore shoulder. Bashing through doors hurts, and you know he's probably feeling a deep ache in his muscles.

"Prentiss, you and JJ head back to the precinct and start filling out your paperwork, Reid can help once you fill him in. And Y/L/N," Hotch turns to you finally, addressing you as the last of the group. But he loses steam, falling silent when he sees you.

You don't know why, and it makes you tense. You're sure you look a sight, sweat-slicked hair and chest heaving from running to capture the unsub, but he's never been one to judge appearances.

After a quick moment of silence, one that seems like he's waiting for the answer to a question he hasn't asked, he speaks: "Come here."

You pause for a moment, but once you register his odd words, the last thing you'd have expected him to say, you race off on unstable footing. You linger a few feet away from him, brows raised cautiously.

"Yes, sir?"

"No come- here." He mumbles, closing the gap between you two so that the toes of his shoes almost bump your own. Your stomach tenses, and he digs into the inside pocket of his windbreaker to retrieve a packet of tissues.

"Sir-?" You ask, but before you can complete any further question, his hand lifts to cradle your jaw. Your chin rests on the side of his pointer finger as he angles your face upwards, towards the light of the moon that you're bathed in.

"Sir," You repeat, breathless this time. He smooths his hand up the side of your jaw, cupping your cheek as he takes a tissue and raises it to your lips.

"Your nose is bleeding," He murmurs, keeping his voice just as soft as your own. Your team members have dispersed, but if Morgan and Rossi glance over, they'll see the hottest gossip the BAU has had in years.

"Did you get hit?" Hotch asks, eyes focused on the space between your lip and your nose. The bridge of your nose wrinkles slightly as he presses the tissue gently into your nostril, wedging it tightly so that the blood can't escape again.

"No," You want to shake your head, but Hotch is holding it, so you can only speak. Your voice is weak, and muffled slightly by the press of the tissue against your lip.

"Do you usually get nosebleeds?" He presses, brows furrowing.

"No." You repeat, "Uh, maybe just- just adrenaline. Or something."

"Alright," Hotch nods, withdrawing the tissue from your face. It's stained crimson and it leaves a miniscule stain on his hand, something you'll be embarrassed about until the end of time. He hands it off to you and you stuff it back over your face, desperate to hide your flustered expression.

"Thank you, sir." You speak, voice nasally from the tissue obstruction.

He nods, tilting his head sideways towards the ambulance on duty, "I think we should get you checked out. Just in case, I know you said it wasn't an injury. But it's hard remembering what happened after the fact, and I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Um- okay." You agree, easier than you normally would. You're fine, you know you are, but Hotch just had his hands all over your face, so you might be on the verge of a heart attack, and medical attention when it happens would be ideal.

"Come on," He starts walking when you don't, his large hand against the small of your back to urge you forwards. Your feet crunch against twigs, leaves, and dirt alike, but you can't worry about getting them dirty, not when Hotch is guiding you to an ambulance after cupping your cheek.

You're in a haze when you step up to the ambulance, and Hotch answers for you when the EMT raises his eyebrows expectantly at you.

"Agent Y/L/N has a nosebleed." Hotch informs him, nudging you forward still with his large hand, "I just want to make sure they're okay."

"Alright, let's check that out," The EMT nods, leading you over to perch against the open bed of the van, "Agent, are you feeling faint?"

Yes.

"No," You shake your head, moving more freely as you walk away from Hotch, "Um, I'm alright."

Two gloved fingers press into your neck and the EMT's face twists into a frown, "Your heart is beating very fast."

"Adrenaline." You blurt, seeing Hotch's face darken in a concerned frown from where he's listening in. It makes things worse, and you have to look away from him to lie to the EMT, "From- uh, the chase."

The EMT"s face stays pinched in a frown for a moment, but he studies your heaving chest, faraway gaze, and shaky hands, ultimately deciding that you're right.

"I think that's a safe bet. But keep an eye on that nose, if it starts swelling you should get it checked out."

"Will do, thank you." Hotch speaks for you once again, stepping in to walk you towards the SUVs. You're sure he's only being kind, that he's worried about your hazy demeanor, but he's only making it worse.

"I want you to sit down," He orders, but it doesn't feel like one because it's so kind. He offers you the front seat of his car, and you're sure you'll get a teasingly scathing remark from Morgan about it later.

Hotch reaches across you to snag a water bottle from the center console of the car, and you think your breath might never return to your lungs. Maybe you really do need an ambulance, especially when he holds the half-empty bottle out to you.

"I want you to drink this," He watches you take it with shaky hands, "All of it. And we'll get you more back at the precinct. Y/N," He ducks his head slightly to meet your eyes, "Are you sure you're alright?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest, your head is foggy and your ears are ringing with voices telling you to just kiss him already. But you nod instead, raising the bottle to your lips the second after you speak so that you don't have to say more, "Yeah, Hotch. I'm good."

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Old love never rusts. Shanks has to face that truth when he meets again the husband of the girl he almost had.]

Shanks's version | Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Shanks knows he has no right to ask this question. Not when he's the one that up and left in the middle of the night, without even a word of warning that could soothe your aching heart. Nevertheless, he can't help but indulge his yearning:

"How is she?"

Mihawk raises his eyebrows barely noticeably. He seems surprised that after Shanks's disappearing act and a decade of dead silence, he's still interested in you, even if motivated by pure courtesy. But before Mihawk answers the question, he notices something strange in the red-haired captain's eyes, a sensation he's rarely seen in them before - sadness.

Interesting, how some things never quite change.

"Well," Mihawk answers laconically. Instead of indulging Shanks's lovesick longing, he wishes the man would finally accept his utter failure and move on. You're married to Dracule and this isn't going to change anytime soon. If ever.

"Wells tend to be cold and musty," Shanks jokes but his tone is far from lighthearted. In fact, his voice sounds strained like he's holding back tears. "I hope she fared better with you."

The Red-Hair pirates laugh at their captain's joke but quickly turn quiet again. Something about the tense confrontation makes their good humour virtually nonexistent. Especially when Mihawk gives them a curt, cold glare. He doesn't find his past rivalry with Shank to be funny in any way.

"She has everything she could ask for," he says with a sense of finality to his words. Mihawk feels himself growing irritated.

"Good, good..." Shanks nods, lost in thought for a moment. He clenches his hand, giving away the unpleasant tension inside his chest. The captain has promised himself to let go of you. Alas, here we are. "Is she happy?" he suddenly asks.

Mihawk furrows his thick eyebrows in an angry frown. It's almost insulting for Shanks to have any doubts regarding your well-being under the Warlord's care. "What sort of question is this?"

"A 'yes or no' sort."

"Then yes," he drones his words.

Shanks forces a wide, playful smile. There's agony hiding in his eyes and as though Mihawk is a blind man, he's trying to play it cool and appear unaffected. The truth is, the red-haired man is holding on by a thread.

"I bet she talks about me all the time," Shanks says in faux amusement. His voice almost doesn't shake. "We both know I've always been her favourite."

"And you'd lose." Mihawk begins to feel an insidious satisfaction from the distress of the other man. "In fact, I doubt she thinks about you at all."

"You keep telling yourself that, hawk-eyes."

"This misguided flattery is much unwarranted," Mihawk warns him. "No one bets on losing dogs."

But she would, Shanks thinks to himself. She always did.

Short fingernails leave bruising marks on the inside of Shanks's palm as he's clenching his fist. Once again he's reminded that when it mattered, he was a coward and fled from the overwhelming, crippling love he feels for you. Only know there's no hope, there's no ifs - you belong to another man.

Afternoon sunlight reflects off of Mihawk's gold ring. Shanks glares at it for a moment too long to pass off his intense stare as circumstantial. He can almost hear the mocking laughter of the universe as the consequence of the amalgamation of his bad choices is merely two meters away from him. There is nothing he wouldn't give up to turn back the time and make sure that things go differently, that he never became afraid of being too deep in love.

But time, like the seas, has no master.

_____

I was so torn about this one, I couldn't decide until the very end, so if you want to read a version where the scenario is flipped and Shanks is the 'lucky guy', just hit me up.

[mikobeautifulheart]

Taken

Geto takes you back, whether you wanted to be or not.

TW: Kidnaping...that's it. oh and very very little editing.

"Suguru, I can't go with you."

"Why not?" He asked, the fact that he was genuinely puzzled by your reply took you aback.

"What you did...killing that entire village isn't how you fix the world." You said with wide eyes.

You didn't know how to feel, its almost like he had lost it, like there was nothing wrong with murdering innocent people. Was it anger? Shock? Out of all the people to turn on you, Suguru?

"Y/n you don't understand, the sooner we get rid of all those monkeys the faster we can have the life we want, the life we deserve." He said, eye brows furrowed in frustration.

Couldn't you see? All those nights you spent together about your future, all the times you told him how much you waited for the day all the curses disappeared; the opportunity was right there Infront of you, so why wouldn't you just take it.

"I know I want a curse free world but we can't be free if we have that much blood on our hands. Were supposed to protect people who can't protect themselves, You know that!" You said taking a step back just looking at Geto's face.

His eyes sunken and the last of his hope died in that moment.

"Oh come on y/n, wake up! We have a chance to finally have the life WE want. WHY won't you just take it." He said now showing how much he had changed.

The Geto you knew was gentle and kind. He had patience and wanted to change the world. But not like this.

"I'm sorry Suguru I can't, I don't know who you are anymore..." You said.

"No, y/n please you have to see-" He stretched one arm out gripping your shoulder before you could move away.

"Suguru let go." You said.

"You just need to see the truth, if we just kill them all we can be free." He said grabbing your wrist with his other hand.

"No, Suguru I don't want to do this- Let go." You said trying to pull yourself free, but you knew it was no use because of how strong he was.

"Let go Suguru, she said she doesn't want to go"

You felt a broad chest pressed against your back taking Geto's hand off of your shoulder.

You look up to see Gojo eyeing Geto.

"You guys are sick, one day you'll see, I'll fix the world and we can all be happy again. Until then don't get in my way or I'll kill you." Geto said letting go of your wrist roughly and walking off into the crowd.

Gojo's arm was lifted in front of you and you saw that he was going to hollow purple him.

"Please don't kill him Satoru. He's just..." You felt the tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"I-I can't do it." He said putting his arm down in defeat.

"I'll never be able to kill him."

***

It had been years since you've seen Geto, it was hard to not think about him from time to time but you got used to it. Some nights you just lied awake thinking about ways you could have made him stay or what it would have been like if Gojo didn't step in.

Sure it was sad but over time you started to let go, you became a teacher at Jujutsu tech and you still went on missions. You had an amazing class with students who adored you. Great Co workers, Shoko got her own clinic in the school, Gojo was a teacher to and on the rare occasion you would still see Nanami too. Life wasn't bad. Not at all.

"Y/N we need you to stay at Jujutsu tech and help out the first years." Yaga said as he explained everybody's rolls.

You just came back from an overseas mission after an emergency call.

"What's going on? Are they all in danger?" You asked. Just arriving you were tiered and knew nothing about this mission.

"It doesn't matter right now, we need you to protect the first years, especially that Okkotsu kid, okay?"

You sighed, no one was going to tell you anything.

Meanwhile in a class room far from the meeting.

"Everybody, you can't tell Y/n anything about this okay? As far as she know there's an unknown and unidentified threat that is after you guys, lets keep it that way." Gojo said standing near the door as if he were about to go to war.

There was going to be a load of questions until you suddenly opened the door, almost bumping into Gojo.

"What's going on?" You said looking up at Gojo and then at all the students sitting at their desks.

"There's some sort of unidentified threat, we don't know if its a curse or a sorcerer yet. I have to go search for the source, in the meantime you need to look out for theses guys." Gojo said pointing at the students.

"Uh- okay..." there was defiantly something he wasn't telling you but due to the gravity of the situation you left it until another time.

Gojo left and it was just you and your students.

"So? What's he not telling me." You said sternly looking at your students.

"Well we know Gojo sensei is off to kill the source..." Panda said hoping it would put you at a little more easy.

"And?"

"Tuna"

"No, I want to know, what's the source or cause of this threat because I don't get urgent calls overseas when there's a special grade here and every other sorcerer in the area."

"The white haired idiot said we can't say." Maki said, legs over her desk with her arms crossed.

"We don't know why though..." Yuta said.

"Why? I wouldn't know either."

"Maybe because he was afraid you would find out about me" A low voice said as the class room door slid open.

There he was standing in the door way just smiling. Geto was taller now, you could tell he had grown into an adult and this wasn't just a game anymore.

"Sugu-Geto" You said eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Awwww don't give me the cold shoulder now y/n." He said with a smirk walking into the class room and closing the door behind him.

"Don't go near my students. If you so much as put a scratch on them i'll-"

"Relax, i'm not really here for them. I'm here to tell you my offer still stands y/n, join me. Come back and we can fix the world."

All the first years stood up and had their weapons up as you took a step back from him.

"I told you before, I don't want to fix the world your way." You hissed as you felt the cursed energy in the room grow stronger.

"Everybody leave the room, I'll take care of this" You said, eyes not leaving Geto.

"We can't, Gojo sensei told us not to." Yuta said.

You turn your head to them, they really were everything to you, maybe the only ones that cared for you at this point.

You looked at all of them one last time before you just smiled at them.

"I'll be alright." You said before you remember just blacking out.

Your eyes slowly opened, you felt something soft under you and a warm light. The more you blinked the clearer the setting became, you slowly came to realise that this was not a room you were familiar with, it defiantly wasn't your room or Shoko's clinic.

You sat up but the pain going to your head made you lie back down. What the hell happened?

"Good morning- or afternoon really, you must have been working real hard to be that tired" a voice said making your head turn toward the direction.

You saw Geto sitting in a chair just looking at you, waiting for something.

"Am I dead?" You groaned as you tried to put the pillow over your head to stop the light burn your eyes.

"No, your just facing the side affects of my curse." He said leaning forward closer to your face.

"Wh-What?" You groaned pulling yourself against the bed frame.

"Where am I Geto." You said almost slumping forward.

"So you really didn't hear anything. After you left your students with those reassuring words I brought you back to my estate. Your sick y/n. You don't know how bad this world is, I know you don't want to but we have to kill all those monkeys." He said.

"So you...you kidnapped me? That's you solution? You didn't touch my students did you, you better not have or I swear to God I'll-"

"You don't know what your doing y/n" He sighed as he stood up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Remeber old times when we would talk in eachotheres dorm and you'd play with my hair and I'd lay on your chest. What happend to those times?" He asked looking straight at you.

"You killed people Suguru, out of everybody YOU killed people" you said emotionless.

He leaned in closer to you nearly meeting your face but when you tried to pull away your body wouldn't move.

His lips practically hovered over yours at this point, you felt so helpless, so trapped all you could do was sit there and take it. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt a single hot tear rub down your cheek.

His breath hitched as he paused.

"But that's you see me as. A killer. Dont worry I won't do anything until you are back to yourself again." He said pulling away letting the cold air go through.

"After all your leg is chained to the bed so your not going anywhere for a long time." He got up and left out of a door that you just noticed.

You sat there in silence. All you could do was sit there in silence and let the tears fall. The Suguru you knew was gone, in his place was a selfish kidnapper who couldn't take no for an answer.

"Curse you Suguru" you muttered tightening your fists asylum finally felt the metal chain around your right ankle.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: I uh... This is so random but my request are like down to 2 and I want more to write so... You know... Request? Plz.

[tkwrites]

I can't belive you're here. - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: I can't believe you're here.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Captain kink unlocked, oral & fingering (f receiving), squirting, swearing, surprise visit, if I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

Word Count: 6,000

Comments:

Hoo boy. This is by far the most depraved thing I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you did enjoy it, please let me know! Your comments and questions inspire me to keep writing!

To the lovely anon who requested this: I hope it lives up to your expectations. I had so much fun writing it.

Anonymous asked: 'In some ways, he’d love to see his name across her back, but not at a game.' Ohhh, I'd love to see something about this in the future. Later on in their relationship, he's on a roadie and not seen Sarah for 4 weeks due to it and some study trip prior. He has just played either Brady or his brothers who noticed he's really down and missing her, they call Sarah and organise to fly her to his next destination to suprise him after the game. She's waiting in his hotel room, wearing nothing but his jersey to cheer him up after a loss 😉 Or a more wholesome storyline of her first WAG jacket or something aha Absolutely love all your pieces and can't wait to continue reading of their universe xx

I can't believe you're here.

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Fatigue and failure were deep in his bones as he walked into the hotel. 

Logically, Quinn knew winning streaks always come to an end. It was impossible to have a perfect 82 game season. No one had ever come close to that. 

It didn't matter how much he tried to reason, it still felt like shit to be on the receiving end of a shut out after two straight losses. 

The fact that they were still on the road didn’t help. The fourteen day trek away from home was always terrible, no matter when it fell in the season, but having it come right after Sarah had to be at a conference was torture. It meant he hadn’t seen her in over 12 days. 

It was terrible timing. The day after he got back from the six day Midwest road trip, she left for a seven day ocean conservation conference in Costa Rica. She got back two days after he had to leave again. 

It had been nineteen long days since he'd seen her for more than twenty four hours. 

They talked and sent messages and photos, but it wasn’t the same as talking face to face and kissing her and feeling her skin and smelling her perfume. 

He’d learned from the past and brought her pillowcase with him, but even that was beginning to smell less and less like her.

He only had to get through three more games and five and a half more days before he'd be back home and in her arms. 

One of the team assistants ran up to him in the lobby, “Hughes,” he said, a little breathless, “they changed your room.” 

“What?” he asked, trying to pull himself from his misery and back to the present.

“They had to change your room. Something about the heater being broken,” Sean said. 

“Okay. Petey still with me?” 

“No, they had to separate you,” Sean forced the key into his hand as they stepped on the elevator, “I already moved your bags.” 

He’d slept four quick hours in a room that felt perfectly fine before heading to the pre-game meeting and meal. He couldn’t remember if he’d left his stuff all over the bathroom counter. Hopefully, Sean didn’t have to go through too much trouble. Quinn definitely owed him dinner. 

The room was dark when he walked in. And it smelled like… it smelled like Sarah’s smoky vanilla perfume. 

Fuck. He missed her so much, his mind was playing tricks on him. 

At least he would have a room to himself, and could call her in peace without the threat of Petey listening in. They could probably even get some phone sex in, which hadn’t happened for far too long. 

Then, he would get a full night's sleep before their flight to Chicago. That, in itself, was a rare luxury he was outrageously thankful for. 

When he flipped on the light, the first thing he noticed was the king size bed. The bedspread was mussed, as if someone had been lying on it. Strange for any hotel, but especially one this nice. Rooms he came into often looked so pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot in them before. 

He pushed the worry out of his mind and started toward the bathroom. 

“Hey.” 

Great, now he was hallucinating. It sounded like Sarah was right behind him. He must be more tired than he thought. 

“Quinn?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, backpack nearly slipping to the floor. If he turned and she wasn’t here, he didn’t know what he’d do. 

A touch grazed his shoulder, and a strong whiff of her perfume made his knees shake. “Sarah?” he asked, hoping against hope. Why would she be here? 

“Yeah,” she said. 

He turned and felt a strange, strangled sort of gasp escape his throat. 

Sarah was in his hotel room. She was here. She was in Boston. How was she here? 

When his brain finally reconciled the fact that she was actually in front of him, he noticed she was wearing his flying skate jersey. 

“I - how?” 

She smiled softly, set his backpack aside and wrapped her arms around him.  

His body caught on before his brain did, hugging her against him fiercely.

Coming home from her conference in Costa Rica, which had been lovely but incredibly socially exhausting, all Sarah had wanted was to fall into bed with Quinn. When she came home to a dark and empty house, it had been a rude reminder he was on the longest road trip of the year. The apartment felt too big without him in it, especially for so long. 

“I missed you so much,” she said into his neck. 

“How did you do this?” he finally asked.

He’d known other players' wives and girlfriends occasionally showed up on road trips, but generally, their partners always knew, and it was usually because they were close by one of their hometowns. 

“Brady called me. He said you were so sad and not yourself on Wednesday, he wanted to do something. So he bought me a ticket and called Brock to get the schedule.” 

He sniffed and she pulled back.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said upon seeing the tears pooled in his eyes.

“I’m just…” The shock of seeing her brought all his emotion up to the surface.

“I know,” she said, pulling him into her again, feeling a few tears slip down her own cheeks. It felt so good to hold him.  

His mouth landed on her neck. It was a comforting thing to taste her skin as they embraced. He mumbled something against her. 

“Sorry?” she asked, trying to pull away so she could see his face. 

He didn’t want to let her go, not even for a second. Instead, he lifted his lips just enough so he could repeat, “I missed you so much.” 

“I know Quinny,” she said, running her fingers into his hair. “I missed you, too, but I’m here now, and we have all night.” 

His mouth was still on her neck, though he’d started moving with more intent, licking and kissing. The shock to his system was giving way to relief and desire. 

Finally fed up with his teasing, Sarah took his jaw in her hands and forced his head up so she could kiss him. 

He sighed into it, and found some way to pull her tighter against him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was wearing his jersey, but the shock of her in his hotel room, seeing her face and her blue eyes and her lips - god her lips, he couldn't get enough of them - stole all of his brain power. Now, as his hands splayed across her back, feeling the numbers patched and stitched there, the reality of it hit him. 

Forcing himself to break away so he could look at her, his knees threatened to buckle when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything else - not that he could see anyway. The fabric hit her upper thigh, leaving much of her legs bare.

“I -” he tried to say something, but lost the words. 

The idea of wearing his jersey came from Emma. Sarah thought it was cheesy, but Emma assured her he’d love it. She’d surprised Brady at the end of a roadtrip like that, and “I swear his brain, like, short-circuited or something. He just stood there, staring at me for like 30 seconds before he went wild.” 

It didn’t surprise her Quinn didn’t have the same immediate reaction. He was so much quieter than Brady, and from what she could tell, they had a much more subdued relationship than the Tkachuks. 

The way he was looking at her now, though - like she was the thing he'd been anxiously waiting for on Christmas morning - made it all worthwhile.  

“I borrowed it, I hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. 

When they were apart, the mechanics of an orgasm could be there, but it just wasn't as good. It could never be. She missed feeling him: his skin, his breath, the rigid length of him inside her.

It wasn’t that she’d been hoping he’d ravish her right away (okay, maybe she had been, but she knew Quinn, and knew he would never react that way), but all this looking without any touching was getting out of hand. Impatience was pulling tight through her stomach. The prospect of finally feeling fulfilled was driving her crazy.

She needed to give him a little nudge. 

Leaning in, she let her lips graze his ear, down to his jaw and then back. He made a soft, breathy noise, and she knew she almost had him.

Just one more push. 

“How do you want me?” she asked, following it up with a slow, open mouthed kiss to the soft spot under his ear. 

Blood rushed from his head so fast he felt dizzy. 

“I want you to ride me in this,” he managed to say, fingering the stripes on the sleeve. 

It was a fantasy he'd harbored since middle school, but had yet to experience. He'd asked his college girlfriend once, and she had scoffed, telling him it would get too hot, which he thought was a strange argument considering a jersey was designed to do the exact opposite. 

Sarah didn’t acknowledge his request other than popping open the buttons of his shirt, one after the other. That set him into motion, tugging at his clothing. He couldn’t get it off fast enough. 

Through a jumble of arms and hands, tangling in their effort to get him naked, they found themselves on the bed. Quinn flat on his back, breath heavy with anticipation, and Sarah astride him, trying to game plan her next move. She had on lingerie he’d never seen before and didn’t want it to go to waste, but he wanted her in the jersey, and she couldn’t take anything off without spoiling the surprise. 

He grew impatient as she debated, shifting his hips up, trying to entice her onto him already. “Sarah,” he whined. 

Finally, she decided to just move it to the side, and sink onto him. The stretch after so long was a pleasant burn. 

His eyes rolled back, and his hips jumped, wanting to fill her more. 

“How are you so wet?” he asked. They hadn’t kissed for that long. Usually, it took a little more to get her this soaked. 

A wicked smile spread over her face, “I may have gotten myself off while I was waiting, thinking about finally seeing you again.”

“Fuck.” 

She was a vision. Riding him after so long? Wearing his jersey? Confessing to touching herself in this bed thinking of and waiting for him? He was the luckiest man on the planet. 

She pitched forward to get the right angle, and moaned, loud and earnest. Good thing they moved him two floors up from the team. 

He tried to brace himself, but the fantasy of it, of her being here and wearing his jersey - the golden C winking at him, reminding him of all the work he'd done to get here - knowing his name was on her back made him groan out loud. His restraint stretched until it was paper thin. 

His hands explored under the jersey only to feel something smooth tied at her hip and lace at her ribcage. 

He coughed, “are you wearing lingerie?” 

“Just for you,” she said, meeting his heated gaze with a coy smile. 

He didn’t think this could get any better. Now, his mind was wild with possibilities. 

“Come for me and I'll show you.”

Holy shit. 

The little control he had snapped and he flooded her with a loud groan of her name.

Sarah's hands traced his arms, entwining their fingers before guiding them to rest on either side of his head as she leaned forward to kiss him. 

His chest pressed into hers, catching the scratchy logo on his jersey as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself off of him to go to the bathroom. She needed to clean up and readjust before the next part of her plan could move forward.

He lay there and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It was almost too fast for him to remember the way he wanted. The bathroom door opened, and he looked over.

“Alright, captain,” she said, leaning on the door frame. She felt incredibly silly, but relished the way his eyes widened at the nickname, “are you ready to see what I have for you?” 

Oh God. 

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he could possibly be prepared for what was coming. 

“Do you want to, or should I?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of his jersey, exposing the little heart tattooed on her thigh. 

“You can.” His voice squeaked a little as he said it, and he blushed. 

Being sexy wasn’t really in her forte, but Sarah tried her best. Lifting the jersey over her head, she thought briefly about tossing it in his face. Deciding that was a step too far, she let it fall to the floor. 

Quinn gaped. 

Most of the time, Sarah wore cotton briefs - occasionally she switched them for lace or a thong, but this was something totally different than what he was used to seeing her in.

For one, the matching set was so sheer, he could see her nipples through the swirling pattern of the black lace. Then, there was the fact that it was obviously made to be removed. The bra tied in front and her underwear tied at the hips, each with a silky black ribbon, like she was a gift for him to unwrap. 

His mind ran away with the thought of tugging the bow on her bra undone with his teeth. 

When she did a little twirl so he could see the back, the breath knocked out of his lungs. She looked so damn good, she might just kill him. His heart might just explode. 

“What do you think?” she asked, walking closer. She could already see how much he liked it in his wide eyes and panting mouth, but she wanted to hear him say it. 

“I -” He didn't know it was possible to get hard so soon after coming. 

“Do you like it, Captain?” 

His breathing hitched. He never thought he'd have a captain kink, but hearing the title come out of her mouth while she was wearing that? He might just develop one. 

Adjusting the bows at her hips so they sat more naturally, Sarah looked at him and repeated, “do you like it, Quinn?” 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yes. I love it.” 

She smiled and climbed onto the bed then straddled him. His hands went to her waist of their own volition.

Her hips ground down. 

“You can’t do that,” he said, teeth gritted as he forced the words over a moan. The soft texture of the lace against his cock was incredible. 

“What?” 

“You can’t ride me again. I won’t last and you haven’t come yet.” 

She leaned down so her mouth was inches from his, her breath making him hyper aware of his own mouth and how much he wanted it on her. 

“And what are you going to do about that, Captain Hughes?” 

He topped her so fast that Sarah grunted and let out a little giggle when her back slammed into the mattress. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, only half meaning it as he planted a wet kiss at the base of her throat. He moved down her chest, following the outline of her bra with his mouth. He almost made good on his fantasy of biting it open, but held off. He wanted to watch her fall apart with it on. 

“What were you thinking about when you were getting yourself off?” he asked, kissing over her tattoo. 

“You,” she panted. 

“And what were you imagining me doing?” 

She whined. 

“What was I doing, Sarah?” he asked, lifting his mouth from where he’d just kissed down to the band of her panties. 

“You were eating me out,” she confessed, a blush rising high on her cheeks. 

Sometimes, he wished she would have told him how much she fantasized about and enjoyed oral sex before the first time he’d done it. There were four solid months he could have been pleasing her he would never get back. 

He smirked a little, “is that what you want now?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asked, tracing his fingers up and down her thighs. 

“Yes, Quinn.” 

He tutted, “Yes, what?” he asked as his lips went to her inner thigh. 

The bolt of electricity that fractured up her spine tipped her voice into a high, breathy whimper.

When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question again, ghosting his fingers against the lace of her panties. 

Her hips jumped. “Yes, Captain.” 

Oh, it was definitely a kink now. He couldn’t get over the sound of it coming out of her mouth. 

He made a satisfied noise and hooked two fingers under the lace gusset, pulling it away from her experimentally. The ties pulled taught, but didn't seem to want to slide over her hips. He tugged again, a little harder. 

Flinging a hand down, Sarah grasped the band, “you're going to rip them.”

“I'll buy you more,” he said, almost off handedly, still pulling. 

“Quinn, that's not the point. Please don't.”

The pulling stopped, and he pulled back to look into her face. “Okay. I'm sorry.”

Her face melted into a smile, “thank you.” She reached down to ease the ties over her hips. 

“No,” he breathed. 

Her eyes snapped to his, questioning.

Before she could ask what he wanted instead, he was knocking her hand away and licking one of the ribbons at her left hip into his mouth.

He pulled it away from her with his teeth, eyes growing darker when the bow unraveled and the pieces fell apart. 

Taking his time to kiss and lick his way to the other tie, he repeated the action, and groaned when it also untied so easily. 

He pulled on the whole thing and flung the garment away. It sailed somewhere across the room, ties flailing. 

Sarah bought this set because it was cute and sort of reminiscent of her black bikini he liked so much. She didn't realize what a fetish he would have for the bows. 

Settling back between her legs, she whined as he parted her lips and blew on her hot core. Shivers ran up her spine and down to all her fingers and toes.

“What were you thinking about?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When you were touching yourself, what were you thinking about me doing?” 

“You were eating me out,” she repeated, confused. 

His laugh chuffed a burst of hot air against her that had her squirming.

“I mean how. What exactly was I doing? 

“You want me to describe it to you?”

“I want to do it for you,” he confessed, voice gravelly. 

She made a little squeaking noise that told him how much that idea excited her.

“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he said before he leaned in to press his tongue against her, just to feel her twitch. 

Something inside her broke. Even though she felt depraved at the very thought of telling him this, it was too late to go back. The possibility of feeling it had taken over her body and wouldn’t let it go. 

“You had your fingers on my g-spot,” she breathed. 

“How many?” 

She squirmed again.

“How many, Sarah?” he repeated, circling her entrance, enthralled at the way she flexed.  

“Two.” Her mind made her continue and she squeaked, “then three.” 

His eyes widened and shot to hers. “Will they fit?” 

She nodded. “If you get me off first, they should.” 

His eyes were blown dark and full of mischief when he glanced down then back up to meet hers again. “And how was I using my mouth?” 

She moaned out loud just thinking about it. “You were doing that suck and flick thing with your tongue.” 

He had no idea what she meant.

He'd done it before: the night they'd been eliminated from the finals last season, but she couldn't very well bring that up. I want you to eat me out the way you did when you'd had one of the worst nights of your career? There was no way. Maybe if she demonstrated...

“I can show you,” she said, grasping one of his shoulders, “I need a part of you.” 

He toyed for a moment with the idea of presenting her his dick, but if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stop feeling her mouth, which defeated the whole purpose of this. Instead, he crawled over her and tipped his head to expose the column of his throat. 

His eyes rolled back as her open mouth connected with his hypersensitive skin. She ran her tongue over his pulse, following it with her bottom lip, before ending with suction, and a flick with the tip of her tongue.

Moaning, he ground against her hot center when she did it again and again.

He wrenched himself away before he could follow through with his desires to sheath himself and take her any way she would let him. 

Settling back onto his stomach, he shook his head to get back into the right frame of mind before leveling his gaze with her perfect, pretty pearl again. 

He tried to follow the movement of her mouth, and her hips jumped at the feeling. 

“Quinn,” she whined as he eased two fingers into her, curling them against that sensitive spot. “Oh my god.”

He continued on. She could feel the movement of his chin, up and down and in and out with each pass of his tongue. 

“Harder,” she begged. 

He dug his fingers into her soft spot even more. 

Throwing her head back, she moaned loudly. “Oh my god, Quinn. Just like that. Don't stop. Please don't stop.” 

Like he would ever stop when she was at his mercy like this. Grinding into the mattress, he continued on, moaning at the way her body undulated as she moved with him. 

She let out a gasping noise as if someone had forced all the air out of her in one swift hit. Her core began to pulse around his fingers, trying to suck them deeper inside her. 

Tipping her chin back, Sarah sighed as wave after soft wave of pleasure crashed over her.

When she stopped contracting so tightly, he waited until one of her aftershocks passed to work another finger into her. 

Her voice echoed around the hotel room as she cried out. 

He said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had the wherewithal to separate them from the team. There was no way he wanted anyone, let alone someone who knew them, to overhear this.

“So good, Quinn,” she croaked out. “Feels so full.”

He continued kissing her bundle of nerves the way she wanted, pausing every few passes to suck a little more intensely. 

A surge of pleasure coiled low in her belly, winding tighter and tighter until every breath ended in a moan. She felt so full and stretched open. So… Alive. All other thoughts fell out of her brain except Quinn and his silver tongue and wicked fingers. 

Feeling as if she might just shatter to pieces if she didn't get some relief, Sarah moaned and panted and begged, “please, Quinn. Please.”

She had no idea what she was asking for, but the waves of pleasure kept coming and coming until it was winding up her spine and pulling so tight, she thought it might just wrench every vertebrae apart and fill each gap with the soft promise of her impending release. 

He could feel her high building and kept urging her up the slope. Anxious for her summit, he sealed his mouth to her, milking her clit like her orgasm might just satiate his hunger.

“Quinn,” she gasped, spine arching as her hands abandoned her nipples and rummaged for some way to ground herself. One ended up in his hair, and the other fisted into the bedspread. “Oh my god. I think I'm gonna…” 

Her voice dissolved into a noise he'd never heard her make as her muscles locked around his fingers. He forced them to continue, working through her orgasm. 

Quite suddenly, as pleasure whirled through her veins, a feeling, intense and ferocious, swelled within her.  

As a tsunami of white-hot ecstasy crashed over her, he unlocked a space deep within her she didn't even know existed.

“Oh, fuck! Quinn!”

Something molten erupted in her belly like a long dormant volcano. 

Vaguely, she heard him groan as if every fantasy he'd ever had was being fulfilled. 

Though he knew women could, he’d never seen it in person, never even imagined what feeling her release gush over his hand would be like.

Sometime last season, Beauvillier had gone on and on about making his girl squirt, and Quinn remembered wishing he would keep it to himself. He didn't want to think about that every time he saw them together. 

Now, having experienced it first hand, he understood why Tito wanted to tell everyone he knew. 

Pleasure continued to ripple through her. No high had ever gone on this long. It eased away the tension that had knotted up in her body, until all at once, sensitivity and overstimulation set in.

“Too much, too much,” she croaked, trying to squirm away from his touch. 

He’d been so mesmerized watching her face, he hadn't realized his fingers were still moving. They uncoiled and stilled, and she melted into the mattress as a sigh melted from her lips. 

Her chest rose and fell steeply, the tie of her bra pulling taught with every heavy inhale, making the cups ride up the swell of her breasts. God, she was so beautiful.

It took quite a while for her to come down. He gently eased his fingers out only after she stopped pulsing. 

A whine escaped her throat at the sudden emptiness. 

Slowly coming back to herself, Sarah registered something wet underneath her. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did I -” her eyes darted to his as her face flushed with the reality of what had just happened, “did you make me squirt?” 

“Yeah," he said, crawling over her again, "and it was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life.”

The embarrassment she felt at making such a mess ebbed away with his confession. 

“No one's ever done that to me before. I haven't even been able to.” 

A look of immense pride took over his face. “Did you like it? I mean, it seemed like you liked it.” 

She nodded, “I've never felt anything like it.” 

He brought his lips to hers, and the taste of herself on his tongue made her passion throb to life again. 

“Well, Captain,” she said a little while later, smiling at the way his jaw slackened and eyelids grew heavy at the title. “I think I've got one more round in me. What do you want?” 

He twitched against her. 

“I just want you,” he brought his mouth to her neck. “Want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmured into her skin.

“I think we can arrange for that,” she said, fingers winding into his hair. 

Bracing up on his elbows, his gaze fell to her bra. 

Instead of using his mouth, he twirled one of the ribbons around his finger and pulled gently to ease the bow undone. It fell apart, revealing a knot in the middle. 

“It kept coming undone,” Sarah confessed, hands coming up to help him with the knot, which had pulled incredibly tight amidst her heavy breathing and writhing around.

“I think it's stuck. I can't get it out while it's on me, anyway,” she said, raising her arms above her head. “Here.”

At least he'd been able to remove her bottoms the way he wanted. He eased the lace over the swell of her breasts and helped her lift it off. 

He made love to her the way he did whenever he got home from a long time away - earnestly and full of wonder, compliments falling from his lips like raindrops, as if they didn’t cost a thing.  

“Fuck, Sarah, you feel so good.” 

“I can't believe you're mine.” 

“You're so pretty. I can't stop looking at you.”

“God, I'm so lucky.”  

They didn’t cost him anything, but they made Sarah feel like she was worth a million dollars.

“I love that sound,” he murmured when she gasped in pleasure and followed it with a low moan.  

As he drove into her again and again, he shuttered and moaned, feeling like she was going to shatter him into a million little pieces

He'd been hot all night. A sheen of sweat had spread over his skin as soon as she'd climbed on top of him in his jersey. The prospect of a fantasy being fulfilled sending his body into a frenzy. Working her up to that intense high hadn't been a walk in the park either. He'd been on edge and so focused. Now, he felt like his body was on fire.

She felt and sounded and looked so good. He couldn't think of anything but her.

When she tipped her face to the side with a loud moan, he attacked her jaw and neck with his lips, desperate to taste her again. 

She was here. She was in Boston. She was here, in his hotel, in Boston. He just made her squirt, and he didn't have to be down to the bus until 10 the next morning. He must have been doing something right.  

When he felt her fall apart around his cock, he breathed through it and hung on for dear life, twitching with the bliss of it.

Coming down from her high, Sarah was mesmerized by him. The defined set of his jaw, the sweaty sheen to his skin, how his curls fell over his forehead.

“You're so handsome, Quinn.”

She knew he was holding on, hoping to urge another high from her, but she didn't have one to give him. It was time to send him over the edge. 

Propping up on her elbows, she traced her mouth along his jaw up to his ear. He let out a panicked little whimper. 

“Want to feel you,” she whispered. "Want you to fill me up."

His hips stuttered.

“Come for me, Captain.” 

White spots blipped in his vision and he had no choice but to obey. 

Her name fell from his mouth like a prayer as she pulled him over the edge. 

When they walked back in the room after showering, Sarah realized just how much of a mess she'd made of the bed. There was no way they could sleep in it as it was. 

“Oh no.” 

“What?” Quinn asked, lowering the towel he was running over his hair. 

“We need new sheets and housekeeping is going to know exactly what we've been doing.”

“No they won't.”

She pointed to the bed, “you want to tell me they're not going to know we weren't just having sex?”

He laughed, “fine. So they might know. What does it matter? It's not like we know any of them.”

“It's so embarrassing.”

“What is? That your boyfriend made you come so hard you squirted?”

“No,” she was blushing though, “I mean…no. That was amazing.”

“So what's the worry?”

“I just…I don't want anyone else to see.”

He laughed, “that's fair. I can just ask them to bring some extra bedding. No one has to come into the room.”

She nodded, “okay.”

He called the desk, and despite his insistence he would prefer to make the bed himself, the hotel sent someone up anyway. 

Sarah folded the comforter before hiding in the bathroom. 

Quinn noticed the housekeeper's eyes lingering in one corner of the room. When he glanced over, he saw Sarah’s panties from where he'd thrown them, ties scrawled over the carpet like calligraphy strokes. So much for being discreet.

After giving the woman a tip, he tucked them in Sarah's suitcase before letting her know the coast was clear. 

As they settled into bed, Quinn relished holding her close.

Before sleep could overtake her completely, Sarah needed to set something straight. 

“I hope you know that Captain thing is only for special occasions. There is no way I'm calling you Captain all the time.”

“That’s fine,” he said, laughing. “Makes it more special when you do.”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to like it so much,” she said. 

She’d called him Captain as a kind of joke, and half expected him to tell her not to do it again. Quinn didn’t even like pet names. She vividly remembered the way he grimaced the first (and last) time she called him baby.

He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “I don’t know that I would have either. I’ve never had that happen before. You said it, and it went straight to my dick. I think your lingerie had something to do with that.” 

She propped herself up on an elbow. “You liked the lingerie?” she teased, full well knowing the answer. 

He scoffed, “I'm going to dream about it for the rest of this damn road trip.” 

Giggling, she leaned down to kiss him. “Maybe I'll have it on when you get home,” she said against his mouth. 

He groaned, “don't joke about that.” 

“Why not? Wouldn't it give you something to look forward to?” 

“I always look forward to coming home to you.” 

She looked down at him for a long time, memorizing the love in his eyes. “I love you, Captain Hughes,” she said before lowering her mouth to his to tell him that way too. 

“Tease,” he chided when she pulled away. 

She smiled and settled back, laying her head on his chest. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair before they fell asleep. “I can't believe you're here.”

The next morning, Sarah put his jersey back on and put his morning hard on to good use - slower this time so he could remember it properly.

After room service breakfast and a very steamy shower, he walked her down to the lobby to catch her car to the airport. 

“I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you for coming.” 

“You're welcome. You should really be thanking Brady, though.”

He watched her pull away before heading back to his room to pack his bag. 

On the elevator ride, Quinn did just as Sarah suggested. 

Love you man. I owe you big time. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[hgfictionwriter]

Gravity

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie was the love of your life. And you'd like to think you were hers. Even if you can't be together, life gives you moments where you find one another again.

Warnings: Angst. Smut. Longing, passionate sex. Cheating.

A/N: I know angst wasn't high on the poll, but I did get a couple of asks for it and sometimes I'm just drawn to it!

"Any interest in grabbing coffee this weekend? I'm in town for a tournament."

You exhaled wearily as you read the message from Jessie. There was a time when seeing her name on your phone would've fill you with elation and bring a smile instantly to your face. Those days were gone.

There were many times you swore you were going to block her number, but you could never bring yourself to do it, or truly, get anywhere close to it. Years had passed and she still had a hold on you. And seeing as she messaged without fail anytime she was in town - and on birthdays, and Christmas, and milestones - perhaps you still had a hold on her.

She'd been the love of your life once. Maybe she still was. But her career had taken her around the globe and from your embrace. She'd loved you deeply, too, you never doubted that. She'd pleaded with you to come with her, but you couldn't leave. You had too much here and if you left solely for her, no matter how much she meant to you, you'd lose yourself and it'd ruin you both.

So while she climbed podiums and lifted trophies, you stayed. You tried to move on. You were seeing someone now, in fact. Not the first and not the last. But anytime Jessie came to town, your life as is now always faded away and you let her back in. And it wasn't that you didn't care for your girlfriends, it was simply the fact that this was Jessie, and nobody could compare.

Your insides churned, your conscience trying desperately to hold you on moral ground, but memories of Jessie flashed through your mind and suddenly you missed her so much it hurt.

"Sure. When are you free?"

-------

It was never just coffee.

True, you caught up. You heard about her latest competitions, the team, her family, new hobbies, and she was equally curious about you - your work, how was your family, your friends, were you sleeping enough.

You purposefully didn't mention your girlfriend, and if she had anyone, she didn't mention them either.

"Do you have plans after this?" She asked, looking up at you through her eyelashes before refocusing on her cup, which she idly played with.

"No. What about you?" She looked back up at you and the feeling inside of you was instant.

"No. Evening's free to do whatever." You held each other's gaze. "I've missed you," she confessed in a quiet voice, gaze unwavering.

You gave a subtle shake of your head as a bittersweet smile crossed your lips. "I've missed you, too." She exhaled, you weren't sure if it was relief or regret. Regardless, she sat back and spoke again.

"Want to go for a walk?"

You nodded.

You both knew you were going to the park to your bench without saying a word about it. You ignored how your arms brushed against one another's as you walked. When you reached the bench, you sat down together, far too close.

She talked and though you listened, you couldn't help but think back to how you used to go to this park on dates. You'd sit on this bench and she'd retrieve snacks she'd packed for you both. You'd kiss her between bites and you swore you were looking at your future wife.

You were pulled back to the present as her fingers brushed against yours. As always, you didn't pull away. Instead, you laced your pinkies together and looked over at her.

"Do you have your own room?"

Her expression faltered briefly, realization as to why you couldn't go back to your place hitting her. She recovered swiftly and gave a faint smile.

"Being captain has its perks."

--------

Her door clicked open and you collided into one another, falling through the doorway in a hungry kiss and a desperate embrace. You pressed her against the wall hard, but kissed her harder, your arms wrapping around the back of her neck as her hands wandered over you in a needy frenzy.

"I missed you so much," you whispered. She was already starting to lift your shirt over your head and you had no desire to stop her.

"I missed you too," she returned as she started to kiss down your chest and unbutton your jeans. "I was so happy when I learned we were playing here. I've been thinking of you non-stop."

You sighed contentedly as you started undressing her as well. It didn't matter how many times you saw her undressed, she still took your breath away. However, seeing each other as infrequently as you did, it was obvious to you how much more toned and defined she'd become over the years. She was truly a sight to behold.

Soon she was kissing you and pushing you further into the room. You bumped into the desk, the lamp and other items rattling as you did so, but it didn't deter either of you and instead she lifted you onto the surface.

"I dream of you," she said in reverie as you spread your legs for her and her fingers immediately nestled themselves between your folds, thoroughly slick with your arousal for her. You wrapped your arm around the back of her flexed shoulders and tilted your hips towards her. She smiled at the invitation.

"I want you inside," you told her. You were aching for her. "I've been waiting too long."

A subtle gasp fell from both your mouths as she wasted no time and sunk into you to her knuckles. Her knees gave slightly as you enveloped her tightly in your warmth. She rolled her head against yours.

"Oh God, it's been way too long."

"I need you, Jess," you told her and she locked eyes with you. She obliged you immediately, withdrawing to the tips of her fingers before plunging back in. Your head fell back and she began to devour your neck and pump in and out of you.

"Fuck me," you said and she clutched you tighter to her.

"You know this isn't just fucking." She corrected you, her voice firm as she urged you to look at her. When you did, you saw that familiar intensity and longing. You worried one day you wouldn't see the emotion behind her eyes, but for now, you did.

A mixture of sounds soon filled the room. Gasping breaths, moans, the rattling of items being jostled on the desk, and her thrusting in and out of you to the hilt.

At one point, Jessie stopped to pick you up and carry you to the bed, laying you down near the edge and climbing on top of you, entering you easily once more. Your mouth fell open as she filled you again and you wrapped your legs around her.

You were rising steadily towards your climax as she pumped into you, the bed shifting under the force of her thrusts. She had an arm under your back and clutching your shoulder, holding you close to her. Her fingers dug into your skin almost painfully, but you invited it nonetheless.

"I miss you all the time," Jessie whispered as she fingers curled into you further.

"I miss you, too," you told her, ignoring how suddenly you began to feel an all too familiar stinging behind your eyes. "I can't forget about you. Or us." She held you even tighter and her strokes become somehow deeper and stronger.

The proclamations from either of you weren't new, but they hurt just the same. When you weren't with her, it was a like a low, dull pain - one that eventually you could ignore in its constancy. Being with her again though, brought that pain anew - a fresh wound that burned and ached in her absence until it grew dormant once more. Then she'd text. And the cycle would start again.

She was inevitable. But you didn't want to let her go.

A cry fell from your lips as she brought you over the edge. She rocked into you and whispered sweet nothings tenderly in your ear. When she eventually pulled back to look at you, the glistening sheen of her eyes wasn't lost on you. You kissed her sweetly.

"I love you," you told her as you cupped her cheek. She smiled, her lip trembling just so and her eyes glistened more.

"I love you, too."

You pulled her down into another kiss, your fingers now in her hair and you shifted your weight to roll you both, now Jessie on her back. She looked up at you with the same love and adoration she always had.

Life wasn't fair. But it was merciful at times.

You began kissing down her body, taking your time as you reacquainted yourself with her subtle curves and definitions. Eventually, you took a step off the bed to kneel in front of her.

She moaned pre-emptively and you smirked at how she ran her hand through her hair.

"You know I miss the way you taste," you said as you began kissing your way up her thighs. Again, she moaned deep in her chest.

You inhaled her scent and a shiver of anticipation went through you. You hooked your arms underneath her legs and leaned in, laying your tongue flat against her core before trailing upwards with a light flick of the tip of your tongue. She shuddered and gripped the sheets in her hands.

You dipped your tongue into her entrance and couldn't hold back a moan at how she tightened around you. You began to trace up and down her folds, pulling them into your mouth now and then and suckling lightly.

She moaned and writhed on the bed and you reached out to grasp one of her hands. She clutched you tightly.

Done with your teasing, you leaned in and began to lap at her. A loud groan fell from her mouth and she bucked her hips up into your face. You pushed her back down and began to flick your tongue over her clit.

"Oh my God," she panted as she ground her hips into the bed and then up into your face. You smiled into her with appreciation and began to suck on her clit as you traced a finger around her entrance.

"Oh God," she repeated, bringing her hands up to cover her face now as you teased her. You ran your fingers through her wet folds, getting your fingers slick with her arousal before you sank your fingers into her.

"Y/N." Your name fell from her lips in a strangled moan as she tensed up, her hands now balled into her fists against her eyes.

"I love you, Jessie," you said before pulling her clit into your mouth once more and slowly, deeply pushing in and out of her.

"Oh fuck," her voice was tight and shaky. She took a few sharp breaths before reaching down blindly, palming at the bed and looking for your free hand. You grasped her hand and she gripped you desperately.

Your name was on her lips again as she rocked her hips up into you and you served her unwaveringly. You wanted her to know that she was the only one on your mind. You wanted her to know that it was different when you did this for her. It was special. She was special.

Eventually, her hips began to buck erratically against you and you felt her tighten around your fingers. You adored how you felt a rush of her juices run down your chin.

You gave her a few moments even after you felt her relax into the bed. Even though her body had grown listless, her hand still gripped yours and you didn't let it go as you climbed back onto the bed to lay with her.

You held each other for what felt like ages. You wanted to stay like this for as long as possible, but you were both torn from your private world when your phone began buzzing across the room.

She inhaled deeply, your head rising on her shoulder as she did so.

"I guess you have to go?" Though she tried to keep her tone even, the lament in her voice was evident.

You tucked your head into her chest and pulled her closer. "I don't want to."

She embraced you tightly and kissed the top of your head.

"I don't want you to either."

Eventually, the buzzing stopped. Although neither of you had moved, the reverie had been broken as reality continued to encroach on you.

"I won't be playing forever, you know," she eventually said, her voice small now.

You nodded against her. As much as it was true, it was a fantasy that you couldn't let yourself indulge in.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" You asked, already knowing the answer. She shook her head with an inaudible sigh.

"Call me when you do come back," you said quietly as you lay a lingering kiss on her chest. She pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head once more.

"I'll be counting the days."

[erwinsvow]

was watching the latest hunger games and i don’t know if you’ve seen it but there’s a scene with snow and lucy gray that is so reader and rafe core. like the scene where he kills the mayor’s daughter and lucy gray is in hysterics and he just grabs her, warns her to pull herself together and go back outside and pretend like he’s not just killed someone and i’m like this is so rafe and his casual dominance with reader. 😍😍

babe STOP you are SOOO onto something here.. + that scene in the movie had me FERAL!!!!! picturing season two after limbrey kills that guy (im so sorry i cannot recall any names.. was too busy staring at rafe's arms)

"oh my god!" you squeal, eyes wide like coins, tears filling up and almost spilling over in a matter of seconds. "oh my god, oh my god-"

rafe fucked up. he shouldn't have gotten you anywhere near this situation, it's his own fault. your insistence on not being too far from him and his own ego that found pleasure in that fact had won him over. rafe liked that you liked him, that you needed him around.

but right now he can tell what you're thinking—probably something along the lines of the fact that he was insane, that his dead body had appeared and he was going to take care of it because he wasn't reacting at all like you were, how any normal person would.

limbrey was staring at you, and a sudden fear ran through his mind that she might try and hurt you too.

"go inside-" he barks at the older lady, who doesn't move, gun in her hand. "go inside! m'gonna have to take care of this, leave-" she stalks off, while you watch with your big wet eyes, shoulders shaking, voice run dry from your screaming.

your reaction is normal, expected. he can't find it himself to even be remotely angry. he leaves the dead body where it is, hands finding your shoulders and dragging you away, like that might help you.

"hey, listen to me. listen to me." he says sternly, and you listen obediently, if not due to fear. "don't scream. don't worry. m'gonna take care of this-this mess, okay? we're gonna be fine."

"r-rafe, she k-killed someone. we, we have to call the police-"

"we're not calling anyone. m'gonna handle it. he was a bad guy, okay, no one's gonna miss him."

"a-and that makes it okay? rafe, you-"

"hey," he barks and you freeze up, listening. "listen, kid, have i ever gotten you hurt? haven't i kept you safe? hm?" he wants an answer, so you nod, still shell shocked. "s'gonna be fine. keep it together. i can't have you like this. we're gonna be fine."

"o-okay." you look down at your white shirt, observing tiny little dots of blood. "what, what do i-"

"go inside. throw this shirt in the fireplace. and then go upstairs to my room and take a shower. okay? i gotta take care of this first. then i'll come join you, got it? alright?"

"okay," you repeat, nodding, frozen. you look up at your boyfriend one last time, trusting him like you always do, even when a little part of you is screaming to run and take off in the other direction. "what're you gonna d-do, with him, uh-"

"i don't know, kid. i need to get you away from it first. just go upstairs, please-" your shoulders relax as soon as the sentence leaves his lips. your mind goes fuzzy, like it always does around rafe, but hearing that even in this insane, unfathomable situation, that his first priority is you, makes your head spin.

you lean in, pressing a kiss to rafe's lips, not pulling away until a minute has passed, your shaking hands tight on his arms.

like always, you follow the instructions he's given you, walking away and heading inside, shedding your clothes and burning them, cleaning yourself in the scalding water until you can smell nothing but the vanilla of your soap and the pine of rafe's shampoo. once out, you put on one of his shirts and some of his long white socks, everything feeling cold still.

you wait patiently on his bed, not able to focus on anything on your phone. when rafe walks in, you don't move, letting him come sit beside you.

"what did you-" you start, before being interrupted.

"don't ask, kid." rafe doesn't sound mad, rather protective. "if i tell you, you're in this shit now. can't have that."

you wrap your arms around his neck, crawling into rafe's lap and into a tight hug. his hands tense around your waist, and you close your eyes, inhaling the scent of his skin. he doesn't smell like blood, at the very least, so you think he hasn't done anything crazy yet.

or crazier, you correct yourself.

"the swamp. in the woods. there's gators, and foxes, and who knows what else." it comes out as a whisper, like you're scared that the walls might overhear. "if you bring him there, no one will find him. if no one finds him you can't get in trouble."

rafe pulls out of the hug to look at you, all shaky limbs and wet eyes. he presses a kiss to your forehead.

[kairiscorner]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEE IM BEGGING 29 FROM THE DIALOGUE PROMPT WITH EX-HUSBAND CO PARENT MIGUEL WHO WE’RE STILL IN LOVE WITH BUT HE ACCIDENTALLY TAUGHT GABRIELLA TO CUSS IN SPANISH WHILE SHE WAS WITH HIM FOR THE WEEKEND OR SOMETHING😭💕 I LITERALLY LOVE ALL YOUR WORK SMM TAKE YOUR TIME🥹🩷🩷

HIIII omg THANK YOUUU and i love that idea wHAT i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i didn't teach her that. – divorced!co-parent!miguel o'hara x divorced!co-parent!reader

miguel's car was parked in the driveway, with miguel himself helping gabriella out of the car and walking her up to you. she greeted you with a big hug as she came inside to change her clothes and taking off her shoes, leaving you and miguel out here by the patio. it was just two adults, two adults who used to be married to each other... but now just two adults who are forced to see each other for the sake of their daughter. "how was she?" you asked him promptly as you leaned against the doorway of your house. "oh, as bright and darling as usual. my mom came over, and so did gabri--they took care of her more than i would've liked to myself." he said as he looked away from you, feeling the heavy tension between you two still, even though your divorce had happened years ago.

you couldn't shake off the awkwardness between you two, you were both stuck in a weird limbo, you both were in a checkmate with each other. and no matter how much it hurt for you to think you used to be married, you used to be in love with this man... you couldn't hate him. in fact, you loved him dearly still. being divorced to him didn't change the fact you loved him, that you still love him; it also didn't change the fact you had to see him more than you thought would be good for either of you due to gabriella, it didn't change the fact he was the father of your child and had every right to see her.

you nodded as you opened the door a little wider, with a small voice in your head asking you what the hell you were doing. "wanna, y'know... come in?" you asked him in an awkward voice as he looked at you in slight surprise. "ah, sure, sure. thank you." he said as he stepped in as you opened the door wider for him. you hated how kind he sounded right then and there, how soft he became. 'this isn't the guy i divorced, that guy was a piece of shit. who's this guy really? he can't be miguel, no way...' you thought to yourself as you shut the door, hearing gabriella and miguel's faint conversation from far away in the kitchen.

the father and daughter were laughing together as miguel picked her up and spun her around. you remember when he used to do that when gabriella was a toddler, when neither of you had any problems towards each other, when all was blissful and sweet... when life was good. you abruptly stopped reminiscing the beautiful moments you all shared as a family when gabriella called you back to reality, asking you if you wanted to play some soccer outside with her as her goalie, with miguel being dragged by her outside. you chuckled and agreed, following her and miguel outside.

you two played a few good rounds, with miguel being the referee and keeping track of every time gabriella scored a goal. though when gabriella kicked the ball too hard and the ball was thrown into the top of a tree in your yard, she muttered something you could not believe would come out of her mouth. "mierda, puta madre!" your daughter exclaimed in frustration as you turned your head to her, asking yourself if you heard her right. "what did you say, young lady? do you even know what those words mean, dear?" you asked her in a stern tone as she froze up and turned to look at you.

"um... papa says those words all the time when... when he gets angry over the phone..." she muttered in a semi-frightened way, as if she didn't realize what she did wrong when you looked at her angrily and furrowed your eyebrows at her. your expression softened as you realized she didn't mean to cuss, it was her father's influence.

you breathed in deeply and exhaled, smiling at her, you knelt down to her level and pat her head as you called miguel over. "gabi, baby, please go to your room. your papa and i have a lot to talk about." you said as you glared at miguel when you turned your head to face him, with miguel gulping and going over behind gabi, holding her by her shoulders as if she could protect him from your rage. "gabi, as your papa, i say protect me from the dragon that is about to breathe fire on me." he murmured as you gently pulled gabi to you and led her into the house as you shut the sliding door and smiled at miguel a little too sweetly.

miguel backed away slowly as you took one of your slippers on the steps into the house and, while smiling all the while, approached him and raised your hand to smack him with your slipper repeatedly, scolding him for teaching your daughter to have a foul mouth and for not even being responsible enough for teaching her not to repeat what he says. "but muñeca, please! i'm sorry, i'm really sorry! i didn't think she'd repeat what i say, believe me!" he tried pleading with you as you kept swatting at him with your slipper. "like hell i can believe you of all people on anything you say anymore!" "even... even if i told you that i still loved you, you really wouldn't believe me? because, i... look, i still love you, querida, okay?! at least... at least believe me there, because nothing else could be truer!" he blurted out in a genuine, sad tone as you kept hitting him, but soon stopped as his words sunk in.

he loved you.

he loves you.

he still loves you.

but like hell you could believe him anymore.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @arachnoia @melovetitties @meeom @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

[formosusiniquis]

There's something about the idea that every adult that spends more than ten minutes alone with Steve Harrington is instantly enamored with him 

The King Steve era house parties don't get broken up by the cops anymore. Steve is too far from his nearest neighbors for a noise complaint and the cops who would do it like Steve. They know they don't have to worry about any underage drinking and driving incidents after a Steve Harrington party because anyone who doesn't have a DD just crashes at the Harrington place, it's not like they have to worry about getting out of there before his parents get home.

His teachers can't help but let certain things slide. Excusing a middle school Steve's tardiness, the Harrington house is such a long bike ride away from the school and the bus route doesn't reach the grounds of Loch Nora. High School Steve's grades are average at best and his attention drifts, but his questions if poorly worded are insightful at heart and if you catch him away from the friends he tries too hard to keep he's polite and willing to spend time discussing his school work. By senior year they're excusing his tardiness again, they all know he has to swing by the middle school on his way over; and his forgetfulness too, two concussions in as many years it's a wonder he's not worse.

Joyce Byers, who by all accounts should hate this boy who fought her son and belittled her family, already has a snag in her armor thinking about a little boy who used to bike to Melvalds all alone for more milk and the sugar dusted cereal his mother didn't like him to have. Has her walls damaged by Jonathan coming home with a Christmas present they both know Nancy Wheeler even in her middle class glory couldn't afford. Has the adoption papers ready to be notarized when that same little boy, just a little bit bigger, offers to cart her Will around town since he knows she and Jon are busy and he has nothing better to do; really, and Will is the only one that ever says please or thank you.

Hopper, who largely left the everyday police work to the other officers, didn't interact with Steve much until the Upside Down business started. He's ready to add Harrington to the list of kids he'd die to protect the second the bloodstained boy cracks open a bleary eye from the Byers' sofa. Concussed and happy for it since it meant the youngest ones were safe.

Claudia Henderson has decided that the law has little to do with family. She's seen too many young men in the hospital grieving loved ones they can't see while parents who don't care make decisions for the dying. Steve Harrington is hers now has been since he did her Dusty's hair. The Sinclairs only let Erica roam the mall on her own on days they know Steve is working. They know no matter what Erica and Lucas promise the two of them aren't staying together. There's something rotten in Hawkins, and the kids don't whisper as quietly as they think they do. They know there's something they are missing, but they don't need to know everything to know they can trust the boy who put himself bodily in front of their child to protect him. Karen still occasionally mourns the loss of Steve as a son-in-law but the fact that he still drives Mike around even on his surliest days, she couldn't ask for more.

Wayne Munson lasted the longest. A product of night shifts and a powerful wariness around anyone whose tax bracket exceeds his by more than one jump. But he knows the kind of skittish that Steve is, remembers an eight year old boy with eyes he hadn't grown into who used to skitter away from a sharp tongue or raised hand just the same. Even then all it takes is sitting next to Steve on a rare night off, the game fuzzing in and out on the TV, listening to him softly explain the rules of it all to his boy relating it back to the ones of that dragon game Eddie likes so much and he's gone. Steve's a hard worker, a wage slave as much as Wayne these days, seems wrong to begrudge him just cause the house he's kept at is a little bigger than theirs. There are worse boys to have as future in-laws, even if he is a Cubs fan.

The only person who doesn't seem to get the memo is Richard Harrington. So rarely around his own son he isn't swept up in the charm. Richard and Stephanie Harrington make their way back to Hawkins, unannounced on a Tuesday. The sleepy morning hours are still lingering when they make their way into the house, through the foyer, and onto the kitchen; following the sounds of crooning oldies. Richard has long thought his son a disappointment, too lazy to get into college and too spoiled to leave home, catching him dancing around the kitchen like a fairy with some trailer trash punk is really the last straw. He lets the wife he wishes he didn't have make some asinine comment to this freak that's in his kitchen, and turns to the child he never wanted to say, "I want you out, I won't have a queer living under my roof."

Stephanie and that long haired bastard both rear back like they've been slapped. While Richard is forced to watch as the son he's neglected straightens up, every ounce the man every other adult on Hawkins has watched him become, look him in the eye and say, "It's not your house, it never was. Grandpa Otis left it to me. So if you've got a problem with me or my fucking boyfriend, you can get out of my house. Looks like you're already packed."

That empty house gets emptier as Richard, alone, takes the furniture he paid for and the clothes that lingered in the closet; but it's quickly filled with the hand-me-downs of everyone who has ever fallen for that Harrington charm. They're all too happy to help Steve fill what's his.