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slu7formen · 18 days ago

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MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 🎃

you prepare luke’s make-up for halloween night

warnings: just pure sexual tension 🫦

₊˚⊹♡

"You´ll be taking care of me, little Red Hood?" Luke asked, sitting down on the wooden chair placed in the middle of the room at cabin eleven.

Your silk red skirt brushed the back of your thighs as you turned around, cleaning the last bit of face paint from a thin brush. "I will, Mr. Castellan" you joked.

The cabin is packed, like most of the time, but today was for a different reason. A bunch of Hermes´ boys were getting their make up done by you and your sisters, the reason? Halloween night. It was kind of a tradition for the Aphrodite cabin to help out with the costumes for the big party. And as much as a pain it is to help all the campers, you couldn´t deny that it was fun to pick out what your friends should be dressing out as for tonight and then doing their makeup to match the costume, and right now, it was time to help the worst breed; the boys.

They were men, therefore, they were basic, they´ve all decided to dress up as skeletons.

Soft pop music was playing inside the cabin as you felt a faint smell of cherries and hot chocolate. It was a comforting yet fun place to be at right now, like a beauty salon, but chill and without the white lights and burning chemical smells. More of your sisters were currently taking care of some other boys´ make up, painting their faces in black and white scary features that would barely make them look human at night, and now, it was Luke´s turn.

Luke´s face was already quite chiseled, like those marble Greek statues. You stepped back a second to take a good look at his face; sharp features, big nose, small eyes, plushy lips. Good, this would be fun.

"Alright" you state, "Just stay still and let me do all the work"

You leaned in slightly, starting to draw the outline of Luke´s face with a white make-up pencil. You and Luke stood silent, unlike the rest of the campers who kept on chatting and screaming at each other due to failed skeleton features. You planned on doing the simple; a white or pale base with black features like eyes, nose, cheekbones and mouth, maybe even some shadows, just like you did with Connor and Travis, who specifically asked for you to prepare them.

"I didn´t know you were so good at this" Luke finally spoke, anticipating to break the ice a little.

"What can I say?" you smiled, "I have many hidden talents"

You continued on, working in the lines, making the transition between the white and his perfectetly tanned skin. He was such a lovely canvas, his skin was clean, and smooth. You were actually a little scared to end up making him look bad. "Your jawline´s perfect" you muttered as you dragged the pencil there, more to yourself than to him.

Luke chuckled, "Is it now?"

You only dart your eyes away from your work to look into his eyes for a second, then back to your progress. Your teeth barely show as you smile a little, glossy red lips only shining brighter. "Okay, don´t get all cocky now" you tease.

Luke was used to flirting with everyone he met, and of course, people flirting back. But seeing you so focused on his face, the pen working on his face with you so close to him, gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You felt so close. Luke could smell a faint scent of cherries coming from you, and the hairspray of your hair. He could almost feel the warmth of your body too, standing so close to him, your body leaning down towards his face, making him look upwards to take a look at your face. You hissed then, taking a soft grip of your lower back, "Shit" you whisper. You were uncomfortable, being hunched over for so long.

"You okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah" you reply, "Just-, my back´s killing me. I´ve been like this for an hour" you explain, you´ve been in the same position for the past other two boys you prepared.

Luke looked concerned for a second. So he shifted on his seat then, opening his thighs, basically welcoming you.

You stood speechless, pencil in hand as you chuckled softly, unable to react, or move.

"Come on" he urged you softly, his eyes locking on yours as he patted his thigh. You knew he wasn´t inviting you to sit there, —even though he wouldn´t complain if you did—, rather than in between them. "I don´t bite"

You scoff then, shaking your pencil in between your fingers. Your boots step into the tiny space then, back straightened as you only have to look down to Luke´s face, "Sure you don´t" you reply.

He lets out a short chuckle, tilting his face up to maintain eye contact. The air feels weirdly tense. Your fingers take a soft hold of his chin as you tilt his head a little more up, dragging the pencil over the lines once again; just in case. Luke´s eyes remain open, taking a look at your costume.

A deep scarlet skirt almost too short paired with tall, heeled backboots and a white button-up that hugged your figure just perfectly, and the black corset over it did just the rest of the magic, along with, of course, the red silk cape and hood.

"You look great" he muttered out, trying to get a reaction out of you.

You stop your movements for a second, looking at him dead in the eye again, but with a serious face, only to go back to your job as if he said nothing. "Great doesn´t cover it" you reply, tilting your head slightly.

He chuckled at that. You had no idea how right you were. You were gorgeous in that outfit and he could swear you looked like a damn goddess, a vision come to life just to taunt him.

"Cocky-" he muttered with a playful smile.

"Don´t move" you interrupt, leaning down a little bit more just for a second, the thin pencil brushing past the outline of his lips.

Your face was closer to his now, the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded.

Luke had that type of aura; the one that was always surrounded by a nice scent. The type that made you want to lean in closer, the type that was warm and comforting, yet he was no sweet pea, but a little more rough. Manly, with his legs spread open like that for you to stand in between, or for you to sit whenever you liked.

And with his face so close to you, you made and observation; Luke was handsome.

Very.

Just when you finished tracing the outlines of his eyes, lips, and cheekbones, you turned around to dip a pencil into some black face paint. Luke remained politely silent, lips closed and hands over his thighs as he followed your every movement. He was watching you intently as you worked. You looked so focused and careful, like it was an important and serious job, and for gods sake, it was Halloween makeup. He wondered if you were just doing it so perfectly to impress him, which was working, and Luke had to admit it was cute to see you so fixated on his face.

He could feel his heart pound in his chest. Sitting there, having you so close, all he could think of was touching you. How could he not when you were wearing such clothes that he loved?

Of course he wouldn´t. He was patient, and he was very much enjoying the game so far. But you were so close , it was so tempting. And he did have a very bad self-control.

You took your sweet time blending the black paint over Luke´s face with a small brush. He was being an obedient boy, sitting still, with no smart remarks coming from his mouth. How rare.

He enjoyed just watching you, watching your expression change slightly as you applied more and more paint on, watching the tip of your tongue dart out of your mouth every once in a while. It was so hard to keep his hands tucked into balled-up fists on his thighs.

But he wouldn´t stop staring at you, your face.

But you stepped back, pencil on your hand and a small smile growing on your glossy lips, but your brows furrow. You were slightly confused. Luke stared back, not a single expression on his face. His face was sharp looking, focused, stone. And the black paint was doing nothing but only making him look more-, attractive.

"Don´t look at me like that" you smile barely, more confused than actually chilled about what was happening.

"Like what?" He asked, the black paint only remarking the scary and sharp features on his now painted face.

You looked a bit flushed, your makeup and hair perfect. But he wanted to mess it up , ruin it a little. He kept staring at you, not bating an eye. "Like-," you cut yourself off, turning slightly to the side to grab a different pencil before dipping it in more black face paint, "Like you´re undressing me with your eyes or something" you say, too shy to say the words loudly, stepping in between the space of his thighs again, too afraid that somebody else would hear you.

Oh, but Luke heard you just right.

He hums quietly, a smirk pulling at his lips at your embarrassed expression.

You´re standing there, in between his thighs again, and he has to force himself to keep his hands in place. He looked up at you, eyes focused on you as you applied the paint on him. And you were so concetrated on the task in front of you, on his face, you didn´t realise how badly he wanted you.

He was hungry, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from touching you.

"Maybe I am" he responds quietly.

His voice is low, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. His eyes burn into your skin, like he´s daring you to respond, to say something, anything, back. And for the first time, you have nothing to say, no witty response. You just look back into his eyes.

And there is something in them, something that makes your heart beat faster.

He stares back, not moving, not speaking, and the tension is almost palpable. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, and you try to ignore the way your body is reacting. Luke has never had this effect on you before.

“Perv" is the only thing you manage to reply, not even a full sentence, not even speaking fully, just whispering into his face as you go back to your task, you only wanted this to be over now.

You can tell by the way his shoulders are tense that he´s struggling not to move. But he doesn´t, and his silence makes your stomach twist and turn. You know he´s enjoying this, and the fact that he knows what he´s doing to you is almost enough to make you snap.

Luke saw the way he made you blush and trip into your own thoughts, and that was enough for him.

You remained awfully silent for the rest of the time, with Luke´s eyes still piercing through your soul until you´re done. "There" you say as you finish touching up the last bits of shadows onto his lips, "All done" you say softly, walking back to the small table to start cleaning brushes again.

Luke stood up, turning around to face you. His face was completely covered in white and black, his skin was unrecognizable.

He walked over to you slowly, and the way he was moving was almost predatory, like he was stalking his prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rest of your sisters and his brothers didn´t seem to notice a thing or even try to look to your direction, too busy invested into their own conversations.

You grab a towel, and you feel it-, oh you feel it. Like when someone´s standing behind you, the cold feeling that drips down your spine, ready to attack. Luke places his hand on each side of the table, his chest so close to be pressing to your back, trapping you against the table; and you couldn´t even see him properly.

"Just a question-," he says, clearing his throat briefly, "How effective is the make-up remover?"

Your breathing hitches for a moment. His voice was ridiculously low and whispery against you. You swallow, and the room suddenly feels too hot.

“Um-" you reply, trying to focus on cleaning the brushes instead of the man standing right behind you. "Very. It´ll clean right away, don´t worry" you reply poorly.

"Oh-. no, I wasn´t asking because of me", he replies, and he leans in a little closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You can feel the heat of his breath and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body, "I was asking for you. I don´t wanna leave any mark on your face after you´ve worked so hard on yourself"

Well, who would´ve though this guy was a poet? Hiding meanings behind words?

"That´s very considerate of you" you reply, trying not to sound too eager, but the way your voice cracks tells him all he needs to know.

Luke nods once, a smirk on his lips, and you can practically hear it in his voice. He leans down, his lips grazing the skin of your neck and his nose ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"I´ll make sure you find me", he whispers.

And with that, he steps back, his presence gone as fast as it arrived to the scene. Your hands tremble slightly as you finish putting the last brushes away, and your face burns hot. He had suddenly left you wanting, a feeling you didn´t even have when you first started working on him.

But you had to head back to your cabin now, and fuck-, were you mad you couldn´t get what you wanted now.

Luke surely knew he had started some type of game, your pretty little self caught in between his webs… but the night was only starting, and soon enough, you would be the one trapping him.

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seiwas · 10 months ago

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₊˚⊹｡ i left my keys on your bedroom floor | miya atsumu

wc: 2.4k

summary: atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love.

contains: f!reader, use of ‘misus’, mostly fluff with a bit of misunderstanding, reader wears heels, some swears, atsumu thinks he’s going to have a heart attack but it’s just him being him, atsumu is an idiot in love

a/n: not related to the plot, but take a chance with me and fearless remind me of atsumu’s feels in this one (and paper rings will forever be an atsumu song for me)

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

Atsumu thinks this is the dumbest fuck-up he could have ever fucked up.

Wood isn’t supposed to feel this cold, but his leg is freezing rested against it.

Is this what it means to be weak in the knees?

Out of all places, of all times, Miya Atsumu finds himself knelt down on one knee by your bedside, legs feeling like jello at his attempt to look under your bed for his apartment keys.

This wouldn’t be a problem at all, really; he kneels down all the time—for lunges during training (the bane of his existence if you ask him), for helping his Ma plant those herbs he’s sure she does for Osamu (he hates how the soil sticks to his skin), and for buckling the straps on your heels even, when you need him to (he doesn’t like it, only because he prefers you much more comfortable in softer shoes, unchafed ankles and all).

So, kneeling isn’t really that big of a deal for Atsumu—

—but you’re there, standing by the bathroom door, staring at him with overwhelming surprise, evidently anticipating something serious enough to bring tears to your eyes.

This is wrong. It isn’t at all what you’re thinking—he was just looking for his keys.

“‘Tsum…” you choke out, mouth partially covered by your shaky hand.

Fuck, if this isn’t the worst way he could possibly do this.

He’s sure his eyes are wide, brows furrowed by a mixture of worry and regret.

“Wait,” he holds two hands up, slowly coming to a stand, “S’not what ya think.”

This is seriously the dumbest way he could fuck this up.

The expression on your face drops, warmth rushing to your cheeks. If Atsumu could describe how you look, he’d call it worse than heartbreak—the horror in your eyes flashing embarrassment and the creases between your brows screaming rejection; what once were lifted cheeks have now sunk, turning into an undeniable frown.

There are tears threatening to spill from your lash line, for a different reason now, he thinks, and it’s all his fault—it makes his heart break that he’s the sole culprit.

And the sick thing is, despite all this, he still finds you the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, backlit by a halo of fluorescent white that he’s tempted to drop everything he originally planned just to do it right now.

“O-oh,” you mumble, “sorry, I just thought–” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath, “nevermind, that was stupid of me, Tsum.”

When you open your eyes, a single tear falls, and he tries not to comment on how you wipe it quickly, feigning a smile as you walk past him, mumbling something about making breakfast and preparing his lunch for when he heads out.

And, well, he feels shitty, that’s for sure. One, for making you cry, and two, for even making you think, just for a second, that he doesn’t want to marry you.

It wasn’t stupid of you to assume he was proposing at all. He’s hinted at it enough in the past few years, calling you ‘the misus’ enough times when mentioning why he’s heading home early from post-game dinners and parties. His Ma keeps a photo of you and him in his childhood home, and Osamu’s given you a family discount at Onigiri Miya now, too (which is only 1% higher than the friends one, but it’s the fact that he considers you as family that makes it feel much larger).

He likes coming home to you, likes that you don’t force him to do anything. That if he chooses to stay out, it’s all fine by you—he’s just stopped looking for that kind of life anymore; it’s a lot more fun getting to cuddle up on the couch with you.

His legs still tingle, and he crouches down again with a big sigh. The silver key is there, glistening from the light directed from his phone, and he reaches to grab it, fishing for the metal that, if he’s being quite honest, hasn’t fully served its purpose in the past three years anyway.

Four years together, and Atsumu has lived with you for most of them. The only reason you still have separate places by name is because of the apartment he owns in Osaka, meant for training season and game days.

Other than that, home has always been your place.

And lately, he’s been thinking of moving somewhere where home can now officially be both of yours—it’s the whole reason he was looking for his keys in the first place, with property managers and realtors coming in to assess the space.

The new place—he’s hoping for it to be somewhere in the middle of both you and him, maybe a bit bigger, who knows? He was planning to ask you about it after the proposal—the one he’s planned and has been trying so hard to keep a secret from you.

It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep it this hush so far. He’s got the ring, the venue, the speech, and has even asked Osamu to take the video (even though he knows he’ll never let him live down every jitter and stutter he’s bound to make). And the date, the oh-so-important Valentine’s day that you’ll both remember forever.

The living room is awfully quiet when he steps into it, no sign of you and your usual humming to whatever song’s been stuck in your head. He walks to the kitchen counter, eyeing a plate of eggs with a bit of fried rice; you packed his lunch, just like you always have—fatty tuna with some rice and vegetables on the side.

Atsumu thinks he could cry, his upper lip already trembling as he stares at the piece of paper in front of him.

Written in your delicate handwriting is a short note: ‘grabbing some grocery, be back later.’ signed with nothing—no ‘love you’, no ‘see you later’, no x’s and o’s. Just nothing. It sucks even more because the grocery is your place, your one escape when he’s upset you enough that you can’t even look at him.

Yet, you still made him breakfast, and you still packed his lunch—that’s the only thing giving him hope that he hasn’t fully fucked this up.

“Samu, I think am g’na die.”

The scenery beside him whizzes past quickly, creating a blur of blue, green, and white. His head leans against the window, and he adjusts an earbud, increasing the volume to hear the call better.

Osamu sighs on the other end, the sound of clinking pans and crinkling plastic muffled in the background.

“Y’said that t’Ma the last time, what’s it now?”

Atsumu groans, the memory still fresh in his mind; when he called his Ma a little over three years ago, he was a stuttering mess, breath unsteady and voice shaky at 1:00 a.m. The pounding in his chest would not stop, he thought for sure he was going to have a heart attack.

His Ma diagnosed him all right, called it a serious case of ‘in love with you’—because, when he recounted everything he could have done to cause any potential uptick of his heart rate, all he could talk about was you. How you held his hand and laughed at his jokes, called him handsome even when he was sweaty and gross; how you nursed him to health even though he was probably stinky and dehydrated from an insane diarrhea episode.

All these years later, and he’s even more in love with you.

“I fucked it up, ‘Samu. The plan ‘n everythin’? Poof.” he gestures with his hands, even though he knows audio call doesn’t allow him to be seen. “Dunnow if there’ll even be ‘nyone t’propose to.”

Then, he tells Osamu everything—the search for his keys, kneeling on the floor, the mistaken proposal but how he would have done it there, how he wanted to but didn’t because he actually managed to plan something and didn’t want to throw it away.

But then he said it all wrong, then you cried, and he really did mess it up; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye. He’s miss-called you thrice and you’ve only replied with ‘can’t talk right now.’ (which he knows is suggested text because you always say ‘later, baby.’ or something else more time-efficient).

“Ya dumbass,” Osamu sighs again, words still sharp but tone a bit more rounded, “just give it time, ‘n stop catastrophizin’. Y’ve put y’self in stupider situations ‘n hav always made it somehow.”

Atsumu feels like crying, again, but Osamu’s always right. He lets out a tear or two, maybe a sob for another five minutes, and when he recovers into small sniffles, Osamu tells him to get some sleep to clear his head—he’s holding the line in Onigiri Miya during peak time.

His Osaka apartment feels even emptier than usual even though it shouldn’t be all that different. Meetings with realtors and property managers finished an hour ago and all they need is the go signal from him before they put the property up for lease.

He was supposed to stay here until the end of the week, to meet with PR for sponsorship deals and brand campaigns throughout the year. But, the only (non-suggested) text he received from you today was an indication that you were home and heading in early for bed (which, he knows is a lie, because a new episode of your favorite show is airing tonight and there’s no way you’re missing it after last week’s cliffhanger).

And he can’t, just can’t, leave you thinking that he doesn’t want to marry you.

So he decides, fuck it, and packs it up—books a last minute train ticket back to you and hopes to god that he gets the words right this time.

He’s never been this nervous in his life.

The olympics is a close runner-up, but nothing compares to this, standing outside your door with his finger hovering over the doorbell. It’s funny, because he has your keys, knows your passcode too—but it feels wrong entering your space without the assurance that you still want him to.

What makes him ring the bell is the sickening twist in his stomach that warns him: this fuck-up could make him lose you.

So he presses it once, then twice for good measure, and before he can do it thrice, you’re opening the door, in sweatpants and a hoodie (his hoodie) as you rub the puffiness out of your eyes.

You’re beautiful like this, too, he thinks—dressed in his clothes, staring at him with those eyes, standing in front of him and looking like the rest of his life.

“Please don’t break up wit’ me.”

The words stumble out of him freely, with barely any time for him to process it. Atsumu feels each pounding in his chest and knows now, just as his Ma said, that it’s all the love he has yet to let out.

“I–” he begins, hesitating. He’s still wearing the same joggers and bomber jacket from this morning.

His hands clench into fists and he pushes them in his pockets, unsure what to do with them; the bottom of his lip trembles and it’s starting to make sense why people tell him and Osamu apart by ‘the one who always cries’.

“T-this mornin’,” he looks up to find you leaning against your door, listening, “Was lookin’ ‘round cos I left mah keys on y’r bedroom floor.”

You nod, tilting your head to urge him on.

“And I was kneelin’,” he breathes out, “and y’thought it was somethin’ else, but I said it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t ‘av ‘cos it came out all wrong and it wasn’t what I planned. Then ya cried but still made me breakfast ‘n lunch and it was good, just like everythin’ ya make is. But ya went to the grocery, and baby,” he chokes up, tears falling, “‘m sorry. S’not what I meant. Please don’t break up wit’ me.”

Atsumu is a bumbling, stumbling, stuttering mess as he cries in front of you, his incoherent rambling a jumble of all his mixed-up feelings. He’s sure he looks dumb as hell right now, a fully grown man in tears at your door—but your brows furrow in concern, jaw tightening as the pout on your lips deepens. Then, you take a step closer, arms stretched out to pull him into your shoulder for a hug.

This is why Atsumu loves you—

This is why Atsumu has never been more sure of the future he wants.

—because, even when he’s fucked things up and has made an absolute mess of himself, you’re always there, picking him right back up.

“T’sokay Tsum,” you hush, rubbing circles on his back, “there’s no need to explain.”

He sniffles, tucking his face against your neck. It’s impossible to miss the sadness underlying your comfort.

You’re wrong—it’s not okay, and he absolutely has to explain.

After he’s calmed down and the tears have subsided, he pulls away, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and apologizing for all the snot he left on your hoodie.

You look confused and a little bit surprised as he takes a step back away from you, his hand immediately reaching inside the pocket of his joggers.

“Y’know I can’t keep anythin’ from ya, right, baby?” he flashes you a small smile, a little nervous.

You nod, because it’s true. Not a single birthday or celebration has ever surprised you because Atsumu’s always ruined it; he just can’t keep a secret from you. Either that, or things just never go accordingly.

“Well, I kept this one real good. Planned it ‘n all. Had everythin’ set.”

The velvet box in his pocket is smooth to the touch, his fingers turning it over. It feels tangible and real now, a moment’s away from his life being changed, forever.

He feels like crying again.

“Was g’na do it on Valentine’s, ‘cos I had it all rehearsed ‘n shit.”

Realization dawns on your face, eyes wide and your chest caught on hold—as if you’re expecting the wrong assumption again.

But when Atsumu gets down on one knee, reaching from his pocket to present to you a ring hidden in red velvet, his fingers tremble when he says, “Know s’not Valentine’s, but can I be your forever Valentine?”

You blink once, then the tears fall—the smile on your face is a little bit wobbly but an awful lot in love. You kneel on the floor with him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

The both of you are a tear-y mess on the floor, but when you part, he leans his forehead against yours, ring held up between his fingers as he asks just to be extra sure, “So… s’not a goodbye kiss is it?”

You smack him on the chest before slipping in your finger.

“S’a yes kiss, Tsum.”

thank you notes: @augustinewrites for suffering through this atsumu train with me & @soumies + @mysugu for helping me with tsumu characterisation and for listening to me ramble abt this fic!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq!! x reader #atsumu x yn #haikyuu!! x reader #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x yn #miya atsumu x you #shotorus.writes #shotorus.events #how to be your lover boy collab

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krkiiz · 11 months ago

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sly swordsman . luke castellan x reader

luke decides to distract you by confessing in the middle of a duel

luke castellan x f!reader , reader is the daughter of apollo , luke being head over heels , confessions , fluff , slight teasing

note : sorry if there are lots of mistakes, i wrote this on my phone with nail extensions and it’s so hard to type pls help 😭😭 apologies for grammars n errors, i’ll edit them tmrw hehe (also this is my first time writing pjo n fight scenes so i hope it’s decent!)

let me know your thoughts ! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3

“Let’s go Kayla! Beat his ass!” Shout one of your fellow half-siblings along with boos from the opposing side.

Clanking of swords can be heard from miles away. Today the children of Hermes and Apollo are scheduled to a joint swordsmanship practice. Where the two cabins will have to engage on a 1v1 duel against another.

Right now stands in the center of the battlefield is your half sister Kayla, along with one of Hermes’ son. Kayla is known to be a skilled archer just like any of Apollo’s children. But that doesn’t mean she can’t beat the swift son of Hermes.

The battle ends her sword pointed right at his throat as he gives a sign of defeat to his opponent. The children of Apollo cheers with glee as they congratulate their half sister.

The two retreat, their places soon replaced by none other than their head counselors. Luke and you approach the center of the battlefield as your fellow half-siblings watch in anticipation.

It is so secret that Luke is an outstanding swordsman. As his skills rivals Ares and Athena’s children themselves, you knew he was a challenging opponent.

Well that’s a good thing you love challenges.

“I admit my defeat on our archery battle last week. But now, let me show you how good I am with the blade, Yn.” He smirks as the two of you start circling one another.

“Must’ve hurt your ego, Castellan.” A chuckle left your lips like honey and Luke suppresses the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“Let’s see how good you really are, Son of Hermes.”

The two of you got in your positions, fingers tightly gripping on the sword and the shield, waiting for a sign to charge.

The hornet blows and Luke wastes no time to charge forward. The point of his blade almost piercing the epidermis of your skin before you block him with your own sword.

Luke knows better than to underestimate you. Sure, you are the daughter of the god of Archery, not swordsmanship. But everyone knows that you are an outstanding dancer and you treat the battlefield like it is your stage.

Your movements swift and laced with elegance. It’s always extremely difficult to predict your next moves. Your footing carefully calculated as you deflect all of his upcoming attacks.

Luke is also quick to encounter your offense as he blocks the side your blade that was aiming at his neck.

With such close proximity, Luke can see how the sun compliments your e/c irises. Complimenting every contrast and detail of the pupil.

Gods were your eyes always this beautiful? Were you always this beautiful?

Luke feels himself caught in a trance just for a second before earning back his composure. But one second is enough for you trip his leg leading him to fall right on his back as he looses his grip on his sword.

The sides of your blade nearly makes contact with his neck as you lay above him giving him a look of triumph.

“Yn, have I told you how beautiful you look on top of me right now?” The boy starts causing you to roll your eyes and scoff at his antics.

“Yeah, try again because that’s not going to work on me, Luke.” You press the blade against his adam’s apple causing him to wince slightly.

The crowd wonders on what was happening and why hasn’t Luke gave a sign of defeat knowing well that being under your sword doesn’t give him a good chance at winning.

They fail to see how his right hand is slowly reaching discreetly trying to get ahold of his fallen blade.

Luke lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I like you, Yn. Let’s go on a date.”

Now this caught you off guard. “What?”

The sly swordsman took your state to his advantage as he unclasps his knee from your hold and flipped your positions, your sword disregard in the process.

With his blade firm in his right hand, now it’s his turn to reside his sword against your neck, just like you did to him a few seconds ago.

You try fighting back but he just tuts and starts applying more pressure to his blade before you finally give the sign of defeat.

The Hermes cabin roared with glee congratulating their win, knowing that their head counselor will never fail them.

Luke quickly stands his ground giving you a helping hand, in which you accepted with a smile. He pulls you up against him, the sudden movement made you loose your footing but he’s quick to steady you with his free hand placed on your waist.

“So, about that date.”

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo tv show

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sweetlady555 · 3 months ago

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QUICK SYNASTRY OBSERVATIONS^_^

Venus 1H Synastry is nooo joke aside from the strong very obvious chemistry and attraction, if you or them identify as straight yall could literally turn gay for each other 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🤣

Moon 1H Synastry is NAWTTT for the avoidants 😔!!! House person could really depend on moon person for validation and theres so much hidden things in this relationship like secrets and resentment </3 this could depend on the entire chart though!!! the good cute side though is that you both could lowkey have feelings for each but never telling each other because you both just know…

Mars 1H Synastry is lowkey so attractive like aside from the strong physical attraction, mars will literally do anything to please or meet house persons needs or desires 😭 i told this guy who had his mars in my 1h that i really liked his paintings and if he could make one for me and that boy had his gloves and canvas out the next hour😭🤣

Mars 8H Synastry not gonna lie i know some of yall be loving mars in the 8h synastry but this synastry placement irked me ouwwttttt overtime😭 as house person in this situation mars person was FEINING for me he was a real freakazoid like the freakiest of them all he was basically FERAL and i was chill with it for a few months but it seemed like thats all he wanted to do and its like can we just talk tonight❤️? Mars will not understand this because theyll percieve almost anything house person does as provocative and sexually enticing but this could go for both of you guys so idk🥴

Pluto 7H Synastry is cute at first because pluto will be so infatuated and interested in house person, youll notice pluto person will be the first to look at your stories without even following you sometimes and its like aw they must rly like me imma let them be :) but behind the scenes theyre checking your social media almost 24/7 looking at all your interactions online and probably will lowkey start stalking all of ur friends too 😭 the pluto person will do this without house person knowing (if theyre sneaky enough) feeling the need to anticipate the house persons actions or feelings … “i just wanna talk and conversate cause I usually just stalk and yk masturbate and I finally got the courage to ask you on a date so if you say yes, let the future fall into place, cunt” (she by tyler the creator resembling pluto 7h synastry👀👁️)

North Node 2H Synastry is lowkey cute in a way bc this is a “i gotta get rich” after looking at house person once😭! north node will literally see house person as this rare beautiful diamond that they wont wanna lose and they will let house person know about this too! but this is just the good side of this placement bc this could also lead to self worth issues feeling like u guys arent worth each other leading to insecurities showing out in this relationship🤬

Uranus 10H Synastry is lowkey a shocker to house person from my experience when it came to a certain career path, in my case fashion, uranus really changed my perception on it 😭 showing me the true reality of the fashion world and its like uhhh idk if i wanna do this anymore☺️! but at the same time uranus person could really be inspiring to house person because of how unconventional and unique they are! i also noticed uranus person could really influence house person to be unconventional and unique aswell! house person could go thru a lot of sudden changes with uranus person when it comes to their career and how they end up being percieved in person or online if this relationship ends up being public.

Sun 2H Synastry is nice to have with someone because sun person will motivate house person to improve in any area of their life they will be on you too (for good obviously)😖😩 Sun person will wanna see house person thrive financially and just in general giving house person opportunities for this. There is potential jealousy on both sides mostly house person because of achievements, wealth and values literally can be anything 😣

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some-bunniii · 10 months ago

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Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good?#my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

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nackrosor · 11 months ago

Text

~Your Wish~

(Pt. 2)

PART 1 - PART 3

Brahms Heelshire x nanny!Reader

warnings/tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con/non-con, non consensual touching, somnophilia, Brahms is basically in heat

word count: 1,9k.

author's notes: I had to cut this part because it was getting too long and I wanted to stay in the 1k words limit... So... Part 3 👀??? Lmk

Brahms had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that it had felt like ages—long, torturous ages—until he considered it safe to leave his hiding place. His breathing was still ragged as he carefully stepped into your room, his erection pulsing insistently in his pants, aching with every step he took towards your bed.

There you were, sleeping peacefully, unaware of his presence, oblivious to the tumult of emotions you had stirred up within him. He had never seen you pleasuring yourself before. Did you touch yourself thinking of him? Envisioning a “real boy” keeping you company? His erection twitched at the thought. Oh, he could have helped you. He could have given you what you needed, if only...

You stirred in your sleep and he froze, holding his breath for a few moments.

Since your arrival, he had spent many a night standing in the darkness of your room, watching over you, hypnotised by your beauty and the soft cadence of your breathing.

This time however was different. He could clearly feel it. The agonising aching in his pants was proof of that.

Brahms had never allowed himself to get so close to you when he needed to tend to his own needs. He didn't trust himself. He didn’t trust what his twisted and perverted mind could come up with as obfuscated by an insatiable desire as it was; an intense yearning that he found himself able to suppress less and less each day, the more he watched you, listened to you, longed for you...

He didn't even know why he had entered your room. He'd simply opened the secret passage in the walls and moved towards you, drawn like a moth to a light source.

He'd tried to crawl back inside the walls, to touch himself and cry your name as loudly as he was capable of, certain that you wouldn't be able to hear him, just like every other time he'd jerked off at the notion of you. He had attempted to ignore what he had just witnessed by leaving you alone... but he couldn't. His body refused to obey. It seemed as if you had enchanted him, as if your body was calling out to him, luring him in...

Your words kept on echoing within his mind, your wish lulling him like a chant, instilling hope in his whole being, pulling the strings of his flesh like a master puppeteer.

You wanted Brahms to be real. He could grant your wish. He sought to grant your wish and make you happy.

You shifted position once more, this time lying on your back. The sheets slid slightly away from your body, exposing a portion of your torso and highlighting the curves of your breasts.

Brahms inhaled sharply through his nose. His gaze swept over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed form and what he could glimpse of the rest. As he swallowed drily, his Adam's apple bobbed hard in his throat. He could feel his resolve waver, his will crack.

He could do anything to you. Anything his messed-up mind would push him to do. He could take anything that he wanted from you. Everything he'd ever craved. You were so beautiful... so vulnerable... lying there at his complete disposal…

The darkness would be the only witness.

His feet moved by themselves, his hand trembling as it reached out to you. When the tips of his fingers brushed over the bare skin of your shoulder, he shuddered. It was as delicate to the touch as velvet, even softer than he had anticipated.

He leaned in closer, his mask nearly touching the top of your head, as he took a short sniff of your scent and moaned in delight. His erection throbbed at the familiarity. How many times had he reached his release point, sniffing the garments he'd stolen from you? However, breathing it in directly from your skin was hundreds of times better.

His fingers caressed your hair, then trailed the outline of your arm, slowly working his way down till he met the hem of the covers.

His gaze diverted to your face. You were sleeping so soundly. It seemed unlikely you would be waking up anytime soon.

His fingers didn't shake any more as they carefully pulled the blankets down, revealing your upper body.

Brahms felt his heart leap and pound wildly, as if it was ready to burst his chest open. Yet the pain in his pants was far worse. It urged him to take action .

He clasped his hand around your wrist and pulled it toward his pants. His mask barely concealed the whine he let out once your palm made contact with his bulge. His entire body trembled with overwhelming desire.

It felt like a sin. Something he would be chastised for. He should have been put off by the mere thought of it, yet this only made him more eager. More excited to let his perversions finally take the reigns. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

The bed creaked slightly when he climbed onto it and onto you, encasing your legs between his. He leaned down and inhaled your enticing scent as he ran his nose along your neck and down your collarbone. His hands moved to your chest attracted to your body like magnets, palms closing around your breasts, groping the soft flesh from above the thin fabric of the nightgown you were wearing.

The cool touch of his porcelain mask travelling down your skin made you stir slightly in your sleep, your neck craning to the side allowing him more room, as if you were inviting him to keep probing your skin. He ripped the mask off his face with a grunt and dug in, lapping at your neck with hardly contained hunger. He heard you hum quietly in response and took it as a sign of approval. As his lips trailed on the surface of your skin, he travelled downward, slipping his fingers underneath the neckline of your robe and peeling it down. The sight of your exposed bosom heightened his burning desire, causing his erection to twitch unrelentingly.

He couldn't help but kiss your breast, his lips lingering on your delicate flesh, wrapping around the sensitive tip. He moaned in pleasure, his hips jerking forward again, pressing against your body.

His careless movements caused you to hum louder and move again in your sleep, sluggishly kicking your legs. As a result, the covers fell further away from you, revealing your thighs. Your robe had rolled up in the process, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

Brahms stared down in awe at your figure, barely managing to hold back the guttural cries that threatened to spill from his mouth and startle you awake. He felt lured in by the sight of your thighs and in an instant his hands were on you again, fingers digging in your tender flesh.

"Oh, my Y/N." His voice cracked with unbearable yearning as he moaned your name.

"Mmmh-?"

He could hear you but chose to ignore it. He didn't want to wake you up, or maybe he didn't care anymore. He was too caught up in his heat-filled mind to bother worrying about anything else.

He dipped, pressing his lips on your knee, and climbed up in a frenzy, leaving a wet trail of kisses and nibbles on your skin.

He frantically pulled your nightgown up past your belly, without ever taking his lips off of you. The moment your panties came into view, a sharp shiver coursed through his whole body, his eyes widened in hunger and he started salivating. Without delay he bent down again, pressing his nose against your heat to catch a whiff of your scent; your heady sweetness only made him more desperate, a whimper falling from his parted lips. Did you taste just as sweet? Oh, he was dying to find out.

You mumbled something incomprehensible while you wriggled under his persistent touch upon your body. And so you shifted again, turning to lay down on your stomach, unconsciously preventing him from reaching his desired destination.

When you turned, Brahms felt a slight pushback, a grumble of discontent escaping his mouth, but it only took him a second to draw back in, urged by a primal need.

His gaze flickered to your bottom now in plain sight, his breath caught in his throat as he noted a wet spot right in the center of the cloth covering your heat. His hand moved as if it had its own mind, his fingers trailing over the damp spot before in a swift and impatient motion he pulled your panties to the side. He gasped as he looked down at your exposed folds, gulping at the way they glistened with your fluids.

He could not endure it any longer... He needed you... He yearned to feel his cock buried deep inside you... He'd fantasised about it so many times... And now he was so close to actually making it happen...

His body was a bundle of tensed nerves. He couldn't understand what was happening but everything ached and he knew you were the cause. Just like he knew you were the only one who could relieve him from this torture.

He'd never experienced such fierce emotions before. He had absolutely no control over them.

Brahms let out a sigh of relief as he unbuttoned his trousers, leaving more room for his swollen erection. His eyes fluttered closed in response, but only for a fraction of a second, unwilling to look away from the arousing sight of his fingers stroking your pussy, coaxing in your moisture and spreading your folds apart.

His breathing was so ragged, it echoed through the old walls of your room. The only other audible sound was that squelch he caused by rubbing your labia, which only became more prominent the moment he buried his fingers inside you and started to move them in and out in a leisurely motion.

He had never touched a woman before. In the past, he had caught some of his previous nannies touching themselves; he saw what they were doing, how and where they lingered the most with their fingers but… he had never had the occasion to do it himself. Those women had turned out to be awful. They had disrespected the doll and by extension him. They were undeserving… But you… Oh, you deserved this and more… Yes. Yes. You deserved him.

A moan escaped your lips, and he felt you stirring more than you had before.

With a jolt of fear mixed with excitement he sensed you were about to turn and immediately reached over for his mask, securing it back on his face. With his other hand he pressed down on your spine to pin you on the mattress and prevent you from moving.

"Mmmmh? W-what…" your voice was barely audible, your words slurred by your sleepy state.

He should have left you there, still half-asleep. He should have stopped right then and there. Made you believe that whatever you had felt that night had merely been part of a dream. He should have holed up in his walls and kept himself hidden for a little while longer before showing himself to you… before giving you what you deserved… and taking from you what he deserved…

He should have been a good boy…

But he couldn’t.

Oh, no he couldn’t. He had gone too far, it was impossible for him to stop.

MORE STORIES 🥀

[I'm almost certain I will indeed write a third and final part for this but please let me know if you would actually like to read it! 🌹]

[Also, consider leaving a tip here on Tumblr or buying me a ☕ if you particularly like what you read. Thank you! 🥀]

Tags: @shondlenoodle @lonely-girl2423 @mellsfern @inlovewithquestionablecharacters @dij-ology @things-you-cant-say-tomorrow-day

#brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms the boy #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x you #brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms the doll #Brahms Heelshire fanfic #slashers #slasher fandom #Slashers community #slasher x reader #slasher smut #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #my writing

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munsooooon · 6 months ago

Text

Steve hates very much to be called "Steven" not even as a joke, he has not talked about it with anyone but implicitly everyone senses it in some way or another and therefore they do not call him that way, it is always Steve or Harrington or some nickname. That's because when his parents called him that it was because they were incredibly angry or drunk and therefore punished him in horrible ways, when they called him Steven he usually ended up getting beaten up. When they called him Steven in public it was enough to make him freeze and make him shiver, eventually he would be silent and terrified for the rest of the evening.

Now being older if someone calls him Steven, he immediately assumes they are fighting with him or that he did something wrong and depending on the situation or the person he will react with sadness or anger, for example, when Tommy called him Steven, it ended in a awful fist fight. It really makes him feel very bad, in recent years sadness is what he felt the most when he hears his name, because it hurts him too much to disappoint the people he loves.

Eddie doesn't know it, but he doesn't call him Steven either, it's always a nickname or Stevie, or Steve or even Harrington. Until one night, when they were in Steve's room kissing fiercely and passionately, Steve was under him doing whatever it took to feel Eddie rubbing his skin, between gasps and accelerated breaths, every little movement Eddie made or every little touch Steve felt, he reacted effusively with his whole body shuddering, he was and felt hypersensitive, he couldn't keep still.

"Steven" Eddie whispered with softness and a beautiful smile, Steve looked at him surprised. "Stay still, I need to take your clothes off, love"

Steve loved that. It was the first time someone pronounced his name with such love. He stood for a few seconds, processing what was happening. He began to shake in anticipation of what Eddie might give him. His brain was short-circuited, and all he could think of was Eddie calling him "Steven" with that authority and that beautiful softness that only he had. He felt loved.

"Are you okay? Do you want us to stop?"

Steve took a few seconds to appreciate him, ran his face gently, because the words wouldn't come out even though they were in his throat. He was always silent when he shouldn't be but he couldn't help it.

Eddie kissed the hand that was on his face, not intending to go any further, and Steve melted once again, he wanted to speak and express loudly the pleasure the other boy was making him feel but he couldn't. Instead, he took Eddie's hand and directed it to his pants to make him feel what he had provoked, to make him understand that he didn't want to stop.

"No, I don't want to stop" Steve said as he sat on Eddie's lap. "Call me Steven again, just you, just you Eddie, call me love, baby, tell me I'm your princess and never stop"

Steve was incredibly loud that night, moving his hips against Eddie's lap, trying to fuck himself harder, deeper. He spoke his name softly and lovingly, until he began to cry, begged for more as tears flooded his face. Eddie held him tight with his arms to keep him right where he wanted him but also to keep him safe to hold him as he released a weight he seemed to be carrying for years.

Eddie couldn't utter a word, it was unbelievable. Eddie was always loud and Steve was quieter, but in the dark, in the security of their love, Steve could be whatever he wanted and could act however he wanted, so he was being loud as he wished because in Eddie's arms no one could punish him.

"You're such a good boy, don't you?" Eddie says softly.

"Yeah?" Steve asks as he chases Eddie, he moans loudly as Eddie once again hits that place on his body, his mouth stays open as he moves on Eddie, soft sounds keep coming out of his mouth, he closes his eyes, because he can feel Eddie all over his body, even though he moves slowly.

"Yeah. You're so sweet, my baby boy, I can't even explain how much I love you, princess"

Steve smiles with his eyes closed. He looked precious, his cheeks were flushed, his lips red, and somehow the tears made him incredibly beautiful.

....

Steve still hates being called that, he finally confessed it to Eddie but also gave him permission to call him that on special occasions. Plus, he told him that he would love to tell his parents what he does with the traumas they caused him. Because now every time he's called Steven it's because he's loved, because he's revered and because he's being fucked incredibly well.

Steve get his name back, Steven belonged to him and Eddie.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie headcanon #stranger things #steddie ficlet #guys i blame my depression and the deftones for this

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changetyre · 3 months ago

Note

part 2 of George and Alex? Maybe hard smut?

Harder II George Russell x Reader x Alex Albon Ⓦ

SUMMARY: Part 2 of this fic: We'll take care of you

WARNINGS: **18+**, rough smut, threesome, DP, innocent reader, polyamorous relationship, (Not proofread)

A/N: I'm so sorry to everyone who's waiting on their requests I'm going to try to get some out just bear with me please ;(

You woke up the next day slightly sore, but it was a pleasant pain knowing your body had taken care of you the day before. They both lay beside you, snoring peacefully as they held you tightly between them.

You recalled the day you had yesterday, thinking about how you felt you were on the verge of breaking down before the boys came to get you getting an overwhelming sense of peace and gratefulness to them.

You wanted to be able to repay them now. Just the thought immediately got you wet as you carefully pried yourself out of their grip getting on your knees between them.

You pulled the covers down slightly, their naked bodies making all of this easier as you began palming them both. Alex always the light sleeper didn't take long to wake up as he panted feeling your hand stroking him.

"Fuck baby, good morning." He smiled happily.

"Morning." You smirked leaning over to kiss him as you continued rubbing them off.

Both you and Alex turned to look at George whose face contorted in pleasure in his sleep, his breath heavy as you pumped his dick.

"Why don't you get on him my love, help coax him out of this beautiful dream." Alex urged you.

You happily nodded moving over to George as you straddled him rubbing his tip a few times across your slit before sinking down on him.

George grunted at the feeling and his eyes began fluttering open. "Sh*t this is amazing." George panted.

His hands came to grip your waist as you began riding him slowly. "What a beautiful way to wake up isn't it?" Alex spoke to George.

"I wanted to thank you both for yesterday." You revealed breathless as you chased your own pleasure on George's dick.

"No need to do that darling." Alex got up coming to kiss you before moving behind you.

"But we're not complaining." George quickly added as he wrapped his arm around your waist bringing your chest to his as Alex lined himself up with your other hole behind you.

"Fuck you ready to take us both baby?" Alex asked as he placed a few kisses down your spine, his tip teasing your button.

"Yeh...yes." The anticipation was making you drip all over George.

George stilled you for a few seconds as Alex slowly pushed his way inside you. Your breath hitched as you felt Alex stretch you out adjusting inside you on top of George.

"F*ck so big-" You whined burying your head in George's neck.

"You're doing so good baby." George kissed your cheek as Alex began moving slowly earning a loud whine from you at the sting of the stretch.

"Shh it's okay baby, it'll feel good soon." George pulled you back kissing you to distract you from the momentary sting.

It wasn't long before he felt you moan in pleasure in his mouth, urging him to start thrusting into you too.

"Ugh-" You detached from George and lost yourself in the feeling of both your boyfriends inside of you. "Georgie faster!" You moaned the friction against your clit he was producing too good to be this slow.

"Gladly my love," George smirked as he clutched your waist tightly picking up his pace.

You felt Alex's hands reach around you beginning to pinch and pull at your sensitive nipples only causing you to be louder. "I want to wake up like this daily, " Alex said behind you.

If it weren't for his comment you would've completely forgotten why you had started all of this in the first place having to remind yourself this was for their pleasure primarily.

"Alex harder." You urged your other boyfriend too knowing he was close as you could feel his dick pulsing inside you.

"Sure baby?" Alex asked normally accustomed to being gentle and slow with you.

"Harder! Both of you!" You begged him, selfishly also chasing your release as the pleasure was becoming too overwhelming knowing you wouldn't last much longer.

Alex and George shared a dark look before following your please slamming into you faster. You screamed in pleasure the boys loving the sound of you.

George was the first to let go spilling inside you followed by you who collapsed on top of him and quickly followed by Alex who also filled you up. You trembled on top of George coming down from your high as they emptied inside of you.

Your body twitched when they were going to pull out. "Wait! Wait give me a minute." You begged them to stay inside you as you felt to sensitive for any movement right now.

"Fuck darlin you're making me hard again," George admitted below you as you felt him harden inside of you.

You caught your breath wanting to give them more. They let you take your time and when they least expected it George felt you begin to hump him again.

He could've come right then and there. "Baby you don't have-"

"Shh, let me take care of you this time." This was going to be one hell of a morning for you all.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1fic #f1smut #smut #changetyre #f1 smut #formula 1 #george russell #alex albon #george russell smut #alex albon smut #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #george russell x alex albon #f1 poly fic #… See all

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comfortless · 8 months ago

Note

would König ever agree to be a sugar baby? 🤔 most people write him as the rich one in the relationship so I'm curious if the dynamic can be reversed

you’re calling to my weakness of König being taken care of for once here…!! cue König being the absolute worst sugar baby that has ever existed (lovebombing!). implied age gap (König is maybe 24-26 here, reader is anything above), porn mention, masturbation, slightly suggestive but mostly fluff. minors do not interact.

Begrudgingly, a younger König probably would.

He isn’t sure how these relationships even work. There’s plenty of money in his bank accounts, he’s got a decent enough apartment, a car, (some) clothes that aren’t riddled with holes or tears... Hell, there isn’t even really anything that he wants. His curiosity only begins to spike the second his thumb stops its scrolling, lands on a picture of her, and his world comes to a grinding halt.

The woman in the photo is the most gorgeous, sweet creature he has ever lain eyes upon. Just the image of her smiling softly at the camera, her hands placed in her lap whilst she’s seated on a couch is enough to send his heart hammering. She doesn’t look the part of some vapid, cruel thing he had anticipated on a site like this. No, the woman only looks gentle, her eyes are even a little sad… She's all alone, her bed is cold, and König is already hard at the thought of how this could go if he had just a little luck in his corner.

He makes the decision to message her without thinking. It’s late, she probably wouldn’t even see it until morning, and he doubts a woman this cute would want to bother with him anyway.

A polite, articulate: hey do you wanna fuck

Followed by: you don’t even have to pay me XD

He settles for pulling up some porn video with the faces just out of frame, jacks off to the hypothetical of it being she and him one day and falls asleep with his phone on his chest and come stains in his boxers.

There’s nothing about him that’s deserving of this woman’s time nor her response, but he wakes to the chiming of his phone and a sweet message from her anyway. One in which she asks him if he would like to meet for drinks so that they can talk, she clarifies that she will pay, and even tells him that she thinks he’s handsome.

Handsome. Something only his oma had called him when she patted him on the cheek as a boy.

His response is insistent, demanding almost, when he suggests that she come to him, meet immediately that same day. Who cares if it’s only afternoon by the time she arrives, he could go for a beer and a sweet, tight pussy at any hour, doesn’t hold himself back from telling her this either while he grins at his phone like he’s possessed - all teeth and wild eyes.

There’s a part of him that believes this woman will be scared off, stand him up entirely and block his account, but to his surprise, she does actually show up. She’s there before even he arrives, seated in a booth at the back of the bar with his order and her own placed neatly on the table in front of her.

His chest feels too tight when he places himself across from her, all cockiness diminished in light of something he hasn’t felt since he was two feet shorter and more than a decade younger.

He’s fucking petrified.

His to-be-sugar-mommy eases him with her softspoken voice, going over the less than rigid terms of their agreement and praising his looks as well as his ability to handle his alcohol.

She isn’t asking for sex, just someone to care for. She tells him that he’s beautiful, while he feels like a smear on the pavement in comparison to her. And fuck. He isn’t handling his alcohol well at all, he’s just nervous and needs to keep his hands and his mouth busy, because all he wants to do is bend this adorable woman who compares his ugly face to that of an archangel’s over this table and fuck her like a stallion, spit such filth into her hair that no amount of repentance could ever make her feel clean again.

He can’t. He can’t when she suggests in that same cooing voice that she take him shopping for boots that are less scuffed, offers her hand to him as though it’s natural for a lady so ethereal to tether herself to a beast. Her hand is so dainty and cold, whereas he feels like a boiler on the cusp of bursting the second their fingers slot between one another.

His head is a mess of thoughts, memories of being dragged by the collar to attend services with his oma where he never prayed. Shit, maybe he should start, because surely he has someone or something to thank for this, for her.

Their first date becomes the strangest ordeal of his life as she seats him on a bench and helps him to try on boots as though he were only a boy who didn’t yet know how to tie his laces. She even kneels before him and ties them up herself before placing his foot back on the store’s floor; doesn’t even comment on the obvious hole in his sock or the awkward, longing way that he’s staring at her, only presses her chin to his knee and smiles up at him with so much affection he thinks he might actually pass out for a moment. She buys the ones he likes, three pairs of them, and doesn’t even bat an eye at the price.

That’s when he decides it’s all too much: he tells her that he can buy his own stuff, that he doesn’t need her to do it or tie his shoelaces or anything because he’s a man, after all. He should be showering her in flowers and soft dresses, paying for her nails and hair dye.

His lady only laughs and asks if he wants to come home with her, he doesn’t have to stay, just sit with her for a bit. So… he follows her home like a sulking shadow, hovering just behind her lost entirely in his head. He had barked at her like a rabid dog and she still brings him back to her place, strokes her thumb against the back of his hand, offers him little smiles of assurance when he goes completely silent.

He wants to hate it, wants to tell her something dirty and toss a stack of cash her way when she opens her door for him. Instead, he finds his head in her lap while she pets his face, running the tips of her fingers over every scar.

Her compliments are the most ridiculous, beautiful things that he’s ever heard, ranging from outright calling him her angel to telling him that he’s charming, that the scars are pretty… He loves every second spent with her like this, with each soft brush of her fingers as they pet the top of his head down to his neck, the way she hums some pleasing song to him when she massages at his shoulder.

He’s never been pampered or coddled like this before, and it feels good. The boner threatening to tear its way out of his pants isn’t something he’s proud of this time; he only wants this sweet little fairy to feel as comfortable as she’s making him.

Maybe he could do that if she let him pull up her skirt and make love to her: he could be gentle if he tried, play with her hair and her clit while he slowly spears her open until she’s pliant and panting, take it slow until she comes around his cock and her pussy calls him to utterly defile it as well as the rest of her. There wouldn’t be a part of her left untouched.

When she asks to be held instead, he swears he’s getting all of that and then some: she puts herself right in his lap, her chest to his and her legs parted just enough to straddle his hips. Her head tips forward against his shoulder as his fingers dance across her back, squeezing at her hips before smoothing back up her sides. She’s so soft… the most pleasing thing he’s ever touched, smoother than gunmetal and the flat of a blade. The way she smells is even sweeter, like spiced tea and blooming flowers.

She doesn’t even slap him when he bucks upward against her pussy, grinds the throbbing bulge in his pants against the place that she’s warmest. No, she only kisses his cheek and tells him what a wonderful day she’s having, what a gentleman he is even if he knows that part is certainly a lie.

Her breasts are soft in his hands when he finds the courage to squish them, against his cheek when she guides his head down to her. She pets his hair, tells him how she’s always wanted to hold a man like this… that she’s been waiting for someone exactly like him for longer than she even knows.

She even laughs when she asks, “You think that I’m pathetic, don’t you?”

All thoughts of just getting a good fuck out of this woman die someplace beneath his skull. Who would ever even think to call someone so lovely and kind pathetic? He couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine ever doing anything more than protecting her fragile little heart and letting her stroke at him like an overgrown kitten, not anymore.

“Nein… no…”

He swears he could almost see tears in her eyes when she shoots him a glance then. Appreciative, contented tears that he prays she won’t shed. He’s a man, he’s not going to cry, but… fuck, he might if she did right now. Everything feels so doughy and warm, cotton candy and summer rain when his grip around her tightens to pull her in even closer.

She wipes away those unshed tears as she nuzzles against his cheek, slowly rubs her nose there and leaves a trail of kisses up to his temple. His mind is devoid of anything but outright infatuation, some impromptu dedication. He would tell her right now he loved her and know wholeheartedly that he meant it, but love isn’t in the agreement.

His lady only just wants to give herself away for nothing in return, not for a dick to make her cry or his own money layering her pockets; she just wants to pretend he’s her own personal angel, bury him in all the love and gifts she’s never been able to give to anyone else.

He watches her when she falls asleep curled up in his arms, takes in the way she smiles even in dreaming when her soft breaths break up the quiet. He presses his mouth to hers until her eyelids flutter and her breath catches in her little throat. She wakes to the kiss and only reciprocates it with the same softness she’s displayed with every prior action.

Her lips part to take him in, and she doesn’t even moan when he laps into her mouth with a grunt. There’s no lust in this for her: only the most senseless adoration, all love and tenderness, the things he’s yet to properly learn.

She tastes like vanilla and honey, her tongue yields beneath his own… and finally he pulls himself away, staring into her eyes like he might find a treasure there, as if he wasn’t already convinced that every part of her wasn’t something divine and holy.

“Do you have any others?,” he asks, devoid of any trepidation.

There’s not a care in the world of how she might view him. He’s convinced, certain that whatever he’s feeling has to be mutual. There are butterflies fluttering like the gentlest tornado in the pits of his stomach, and just by the wounded look she gives him then he just knows she must feel them too.

“Only you.”

“Gut… gut.”

There’s another kiss, one that is initiated by the both of them and steals all breath from his lungs. It’s not her harboring tears this time, but him who feels the dull sting, separates from her and turns his head away to rub at his face. He knows that he’s the pathetic one now, burdened down with the thought that he’s head over heels for a woman for just treating him as if he deserves anything at all.

Damn her for the way she readily reaches for him to pull him back in, to kiss at the outer corner of his eye and tell him in such a quiet way that she knows… In just a day she’s noticed him more than anyone, given more than anyone.

When he guides her back towards his mouth with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, could he really be faulted for whispering a confession? “Ich bin in dich verliebt,” spoken nearly inaudibly before he shuts her up with his lips over hers.

There’s no need for an answer, he knows the agreement had nothing to do with love. She wouldn’t accept his money in turn, but maybe a heart would suffice. He promises he’ll send her letters each time he’s deployed between mashing his mouth against her own, swears he will come running back to her when those greedy kisses slip down to her jaw. This sweet dove only laughs and squirms in his lap, tells him she would love to see him any time before he shushes her again.

Shouldn’t sweet things like this know not to feed a stray?

#könig x reader #konig x reader #Kö saying ‘i love you’ way waaay too early is entirely self satisfying for me ^^#he would still want to buy things for her instead probably play the role of some rough tough alpha male #but secretly every time she’s snuggled up to him he’s in shambles trying to control his breathing and not propose on the spot

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inc-ch-ident · 9 months ago

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Father(s) | Charlos

Paring: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader x Carlos Sainz.

Warning: Pregnancy, Google translator.

Trigger:

Genre: Fluff.

Prompts: None.

Summary: Y/n L/n, the spirited princess of the grid. She's 5 months pregnant from her previous relationship. She's friends with Charles and Carlos.

Part 2

Request form-> here

Masterlist

Five months pregnant from a previous relationship, she embarked on a journey of newfound friendship with two F1 Ferrari drivers, Charles and Carlos. Little did she know that her bond with them would evolve into something more complex and beautiful.

As the days turned into weeks, their friendship deepened, and Y/n noticed the admiration and affection that both Charles and Carlos held for her. At first, she was unsure of how to navigate these emotions, especially considering her pregnancy and the complexities it brought to her life. But as time went on, Y/n realized that love had a way of defying expectations and boundaries.

Y/n's pregnancy brought forth a mix of emotions within her. She was excited about the impending arrival of her child, but also apprehensive about navigating the challenges of motherhood alone. However, she found solace and support in the company of Charles and Carlos, who had become her dear 'friends'.

In a moment of vulnerability, Y/n opened up to Charles and Carlos about her own feelings. She admitted that she cared deeply for both of them, but she also had reservations about pursuing a romantic relationship while being pregnant. She feared that it might complicate their friendship and jeopardize the stability she sought for her child.

To her surprise, Charles and Carlos responded with understanding and unwavering support. They assured her that their feelings were genuine and that they embraced the idea of a polyamorous relationship. They wished to be by her side, not only as friends but as partners and fathers to her child.

One day, they walked around the paddock, y/n rubbing her belly, the air was charged with unspoken emotions. Both Ferrari drivers could sense y/n tension, their gazes lingering a little longer, their touches a little more tender.

"What's going on inside your head?" Charles asked her, taking her hand and holding it as they walked.

"Seven months left until our boy would be introduced to the world," Y/n whispered, resting her head on Carlos's shoulder.

"But?"

"But, I'm worried I'm not going to be a great mother. I'm 23" Y/n sighs deeply, taking a seat on the bench as she feels her feet sore.

"And I'm 28. Have you seen yourself around kids?" Carlos scoffed as he and Charles sat beside her. Charles placed his hand on her stomach, rubbing her round belly.

"Even then, we'll be with you through it. Shotgun on dada." Charles chuckled as y/n and Carlos rolled their eyes at him.

"You bet, his first words are papa," Carlos argues back, playfully slapping Charles's hand off Y/n.

"No, It'll be mama," Y/n said, crossing her arms and ending the playfully bickering between the men. Charles placed a kiss on her head and Carlos let her rest her head on his shoulder.

Together, they navigated the uncharted territory of love, trust, and a shared vision of a family. Charles and Carlos were present throughout Y/n's pregnancy, attending doctor's appointments, sharing in the excitement of ultrasounds, and providing emotional support during the highs and lows.

As Y/n's belly grew, so did their bond. They created a loving and nurturing environment, preparing for the arrival of their child with joy and anticipation. Charles and Carlos showered Y/n with affection, ensuring she felt cherished and supported every step of the way.

When the day finally arrived, and Y/n gave birth to their precious baby, their hearts swelled with love and gratitude. Loving her son like their own, by blood or not, their bond solidified by the shared experience of parenthood.

In the years that followed, Y/n, Charles, Carlos, and their child formed an unbreakable family unit. They faced the challenges of parenting with unity, love, and unwavering commitment, celebrating each milestone and cherishing the moments that made their unconventional love story even more extraordinary.

In the world of Formula 1, where competition and speed reign, Y/n, Charles, and Carlos proved that love could conquer all. Their polyamorous relationship defied societal norms, embracing the beautiful complexities of their hearts. Together, they wrote their own love story, one that would forever be etched in the annals of racing history.

___________

liked by landonorris, yourusername, carlossainz55, and 940,038 others!

charles_leclerc: Mon amour avec notre précieux prince♥️....

Tagged; yourusername

carlossainz55: you mean, OUR love with our precious prince

charles_leclerc: fine, notre amour avec notre précieux prince. Happy?

carlossainz55: very☺️

Tagged: @tbb01

#f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc imagine #formula one #male form #f1 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #carlos sainz fanfic

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dee-writes-anime · 3 months ago

Text

I'm Here, I'm Always Here

FEATURING Shoto Todoroki x Reader

SUMMARY Shoto can't take it anymore, good thing you are always willing to take good care of your icyhot sweetheart.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, Shoto being taken care of like he deserves, an excuse for me to wash my boys hair T-T, hurt/comfort, Shoto needs a hug PLEASE HUG HIM OML

AUTHORS NOTE this is not the BakuDeku slow burn that I've been working on the past week, unfortunately. I promise I am still working on it, it's just a BEAST of a fic and I am still not done writing it. So, instead of continuing in my silence, I decided to share this Shoto fic I've been sitting on for a FAT minute. <3

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.”

Shoto Todoroki is sitting on the floor of your shower, curled into himself, trembling violently. His knees are drawn tight against his chest, and his head is buried deep between his crossed arms, tucked into the wet skin of his legs. The water pounds mercilessly on his back, scalding hot, the sound of it a steady hiss against the tile as steam swirls like smoke in the air. It clings to the room in suffocating waves, thick enough to feel like it’s pressing down on him, drowning him with every strained breath. The water pelts his cold skin, too hot and too harsh, but he doesn’t move. He just rocks slowly, back and forth, shaking with each shallow inhale.

You hadn't been home, hadn’t heard the news. You were a world away, caught in the aftermath of a grueling mission in Indonesia, helping local heroes dismantle a quirk-empowered sex trafficking ring. You hadn’t known what had gone down between Shoto and the villain he fought today. You hadn’t known he’d be fighting for his life while you were halfway across the world, in a place that had felt so beautiful, so serene in comparison to what he must have gone through.

While you’d been basking in the warm Indonesian sun, calling him every night to talk, laugh, share silly stories, Shoto had been here, battling something far darker than either of you could have anticipated. You would stay on the phone with him for hours, sometimes dozing off mid-conversation, your voices filling the quiet voids of each other’s days. But today, today you hadn’t been able to answer.

You’d been on a plane, finally heading home after days of tension and exhaustion. The mission was done; you had succeeded in catching the ring leaders, and the police were making their arrests. But it wasn’t over for Shoto.

He had stayed at your apartment while you were gone, taking care of Mr. Wellbottom, your moody, gray tabby. Shoto had taken the task without hesitation, even though you’d thanked him a thousand times, feeling guilty for asking him to go out of his way. But Shoto had only smiled, brushing off your offers of repayment, telling you it was no trouble at all. The truth, however, was that Shoto preferred it here. Your apartment, small and cluttered as it was, was warm—unlike the empty coldness of his own space. Here, everything smelled like you—soft, comforting, familiar. He’d found himself sinking into the warmth of it, into the messy piles of books, your worn-out blankets, and even the prickly affection of Mr. Wellbottom.

Because here, in your space, Shoto could pretend, just for a little while, that he was more than just your close friend. More than just the boy who kept you company and helped take care of your cat. Here, he could pretend he belonged.

But today, the weight of everything had become too much, and all the warmth of your apartment, of your affection, couldn’t hold back the storm brewing inside him. He loved you more than anything in the world, more than he could ever say, which was why he had resigned himself to being just this—just your closest friend. Because losing you, risking what you had by asking for more, was something he couldn’t bear. So, he stayed quiet, enduring, grateful for whatever piece of you he could keep.

The villain Shoto had fought today was unlike any other—someone who could take the deepest, darkest corners of a person's mind and twist them until reality blurred into something grotesque. He wasn’t a stranger to this villain, not after the many run-ins he’d had in his relentless hunt to stop him. Shoto had endured before, forced to relive the bitter memories of his father, the abuse, the cruelty that had shaped so much of his childhood. And then, as if that weren’t enough, the villain had dredged up the image of his brother—his death, and later, the painful fight against him. But even those memories, awful as they were, Shoto had withstood.

Today, however, had been different.

This time, the villain had reached deeper, pulling on a thread of Shoto’s mind that was too precious to tamper with. He had taken you. The memory of your warmth, your laughter, your soft presence that had become Shoto’s solace—and twisted it into something horrific.

In the vision the villain conjured, Shoto found himself standing in your small, familiar kitchen. The tiled floor beneath him, a dull, faded yellowish hue, felt so real. Too real. And there, lying crumpled on the ground, was you. Blood—thick and horrifyingly red—leaked from a deep gash in your abdomen, pooling on the floor and staining the tiles beneath you. Shoto's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he dropped to his knees beside you. His hands, shaking uncontrollably, grabbed the first thing he could find—the knit blanket you always draped across the back of the couch. The same one he had used just days before to coax Mr. Wellbottom into curling up with him for a late-night picture.

But now, that blanket was being pressed against your wound, its soft cream fabric soaking through with the vivid, sickening color of your blood. The warmth that had once been your safety net, the thing that reminded him of you every time he wrapped it around himself, was now drenched in the memory of your loss.

The image wouldn’t leave him.

No matter how much he blinked, no matter how hard he tried to force himself back into reality, the memory the villain had warped stuck in his mind like a jagged shard of glass. He could still see your lifeless form, still feel the weight of the blood-soaked blanket in his trembling hands. It was too vivid. Too visceral.

The villain knew exactly what he was doing, attacking Shoto’s weakest point. He had toyed with Shoto's mind, playing his memories like a puppet on strings, twisting them until every bit of hope, every ounce of warmth, turned to something grotesque. You were Shoto’s anchor, the light in the darkness of his life, and to turn that into something filled with blood and pain—that had broken him in ways nothing else ever had.

When Shoto had finally snapped out of it, it had been too late. The villain was gone, disappeared into the chaos, and Shoto was left kneeling on the ground in the middle of the battlefield, still shaking from the aftershocks of the warped vision. His teammates had tried to help him, tried to call out to him, but he couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your blood dripping onto the cold kitchen floor. He could feel his own heart hammering against his ribs, threatening to tear itself apart from the inside.

And now here he was, in your shower, trying and failing to wash the memory away. He had come back to your apartment because it was the only place that felt remotely safe, remotely real. But even here, surrounded by the things that usually comforted him, he couldn’t escape it. The scalding water beat down on his back, punishing him, as if he could burn the image out of his mind. But nothing helped. Nothing could erase the sight of your body, limp in his arms, as the life drained out of you in that twisted vision.

When he heard your soft voice, it was as though the world tilted back into focus for the first time since the nightmare began. It started with a gentle gasp, a sound so quiet he might’ve missed it if he weren’t so desperate to hear something real. Then came the hurried footsteps, the soft padding of your feet against the floor growing louder as you rushed toward the bathroom. The water stopped abruptly, the harsh, scalding heat suddenly replaced by the cool air around him, and then—your hands. Your hands, warm and steady, were threading through his soaked hair, each stroke slow and deliberate, as though grounding him back into the present.

But Shoto flinched at the contact, his breath catching in his throat. Was this real? Could this be another cruel trick, another illusion the villain had planted to break him further? He wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure—not after what he had seen.

And then he smelled it.

Vanilla and cashmere, the scent you always wore, the one Mina endlessly teased you about. That familiar, comforting fragrance filled his senses, and something deep inside him cracked open. It was you. The scar on your palm, the one from that quirk accident back in high school, scraped lightly against his skin as your fingers combed through his hair, the faintest of rough edges that confirmed it. No illusion could replicate the way your presence felt—how solid, how real it was.

It was you.

The dam inside him broke, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore from his throat, raw and desperate. His body moved before his mind could catch up, clinging to you, burying his face against your chest as the sobs came faster, his body wracked with tremors he could no longer suppress. Water soaked through your sweater, dampening your leggings, but you didn’t care. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer as you whispered soft, soothing words into his ear.

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice steady, grounding him. “You’re safe, Shoto. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He could feel your heartbeat against his cheek, strong and steady, each thud an anchor that pulled him out of the nightmare and into the present. You were real. You were here, holding him close, and for the first time since the mission, the suffocating weight in his chest loosened, just a fraction, as your warmth began to chase the cold from his bones.

After what felt like minutes—or maybe hours; he couldn’t tell—of you simply holding him, your warmth wrapped around him like a lifeline, you shifted. Slowly, you stood, your movements careful and deliberate, as if afraid to pull away too fast. You reached for the shower knob, turning the water back on, this time to a much gentler temperature. The scalding heat from before was replaced by a soothing warmth that cascaded down his back, easing the tension in his muscles.

Without saying a word, you grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the cubby—a fancy brand you always scolded him for trying to use when he stayed over. He could almost hear your playful voice in his head, telling him he wasn’t allowed to touch the ‘good stuff.’ But now, you weren’t teasing. You were quiet, focused, as you squeezed a generous amount into your palm and began to gently massage it into his scalp.

Your fingers moved with care, threading through his hair in slow, circular motions. Each touch was gentle, deliberate, as if you were trying to wash away more than just the dirt and grime of the day. Shoto closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the sensation, the rhythmic motion of your hands calming the storm inside him. The scent of the shampoo—familiar and soft, just like everything else about you—filled the air, wrapping him in its comforting embrace.

You worked the shampoo into every strand, massaging his scalp until his hair was thoroughly coated in suds. Each pass of your fingers through his mismatched hair felt like a promise—unspoken, but deeply felt. You weren’t going anywhere. You were still here, taking care of him in the only way you knew how.

And for the first time that night, as you stood there with him, washing away the pain of the day, Shoto felt like he might be able to breathe again.

After finishing with the shampoo, your hands moved with the same careful tenderness, reaching for the conditioner. You uncapped the bottle, the familiar scent wafting into the air, and squeezed a dollop into your palm. The water flowed in a soft cascade over Shoto’s back, creating a calm, steady rhythm in the background as you worked the conditioner through his hair.

Your fingers glided through the wet strands, smoothing them gently. As you massaged the conditioner into his scalp, your voice broke the quiet.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time,” you began, your voice low and soft. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Shoto.”

The words hung in the air, blending with the sound of water pattering against the tile. Shoto didn’t react at first, still processing everything. But you didn’t stop, your fingers working through his hair with care as you continued.

“I don’t know when it started, really. I think it was sometime in high school, maybe even before that. You were always so strong, so quiet, but… you carried so much. I remember that day during our first year, when you told us about your father. About your family. You tried so hard to stay strong, to push everything down like it didn’t matter. But I saw how much it hurt you.”

You paused for a moment, lost in the memory. You could still see it so clearly—the way Shoto had stood there, stoic and composed, while the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. But behind those mismatched eyes, you had seen something else: the vulnerability he never let anyone else see. It had been in that moment you realized just how much you cared about him.

“And then… we got closer. We became friends,” you said, working the conditioner into his hair with slow, careful motions. “I would stay up late thinking about how brave you were. How strong. You didn’t let the things that had happened to you define who you were, and that’s what made me fall in love with you even more.”

Shoto remained quiet, but you could feel the way his breathing had changed—slower now, steadier. You didn’t know if he was processing your words or just lost in the comfort of the moment, but it didn’t matter. You needed to say this, even if he didn’t respond.

“And when we graduated and became pro heroes, I thought I’d let those feelings go. I thought maybe they’d fade with time. But they didn’t. Every time I saw you fight, saw you push yourself to your limits, I’d fall a little harder. You’re so strong, Shoto. You’re so brave. Even when the world tries to break you down, you keep going.”

You paused, your fingers stilling for a moment in his hair as you thought back to all the times you’d watched him from a distance, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

“Like today,” you continued, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what happened out there, and you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But I know how strong you are. I know how hard you fight, even when things get bad. You’re the bravest person I know, Shoto.”

Your hands moved again, gently untangling the strands of his hair as you rinsed out the conditioner. The water ran over his head, carrying the suds away, and you stood there in silence for a few moments longer, letting the weight of your words settle between you.

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you leaned in close to him, your lips brushing against his damp hair.

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.”

The word slipped out—love—and it felt so natural, so right, that you didn’t even hesitate. You weren’t sure if he heard it, but you didn’t care. You meant every word. Shoto had been fighting for so long, and all you wanted was for him to know how much he meant to you. How proud you were of him.

You stood there for a while, the water continuing to run as you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing the tension that had gripped him for so long.

As you rinsed the conditioner from his hair, the soft hiss of water filling the room, Shoto shifted slightly beneath your hands. His head tilted back just a fraction, and for the first time since you had come home, he spoke.

His voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and hesitant, as if he were afraid the words might break the delicate moment between you. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “For so long, I’ve felt… something. I didn’t understand it at first. But every time I was with you, it was there—this warmth I couldn’t explain.”

You kept your hands gentle, running your fingers through his hair as the water rinsed away the last traces of conditioner. The soothing rhythm of the water was a backdrop to his quiet confession.

“I never thought I deserved you,” Shoto admitted, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “You’re always so bright, so warm. You make everything around you feel… alive. And me—I’ve always felt like I’m stuck in this cold, this distance from everyone, like I don’t belong in your world.”

His eyes closed, the weight of his words seeming to spill out of him now that he had started. “But every time I was with you, it felt like I could finally breathe. Like maybe… maybe I wasn’t so broken after all.”

Your fingers continued to move through his hair, slow and deliberate, each touch a silent reassurance that you were listening, that you were there.

Shoto’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, letting the water stream down his face as he spoke again, more vulnerable than you had ever heard him. “I didn’t know how to tell you how much I love you. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I stayed quiet. I thought if I could just be close to you, that would be enough. But… it never was. I wanted more. I wanted you, and it scared me.”

His voice faltered for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you like the mist in the air. “I love you,” he finally whispered, barely audible over the sound of the water. “I’ve loved you for so long. I just… I didn’t know how to say it.”

The last of the conditioner was gone now, his hair clean and smooth beneath your fingers, but you didn’t pull away. You stayed there, the water running over both of you as you cradled his head in your hands, your heart swelling with every word he spoke.

Shoto was vulnerable in a way you had never seen before—laid bare, fragile, but so open, so raw. And it was in that moment that you realized just how much this meant to him, how much he had been holding back for all these years.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Shoto. I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

You gently tilted Shoto’s head up, brushing your thumb along his jaw as the water cascaded between you, soft and warm. His eyes fluttered open, the weight of his emotions still lingering in those mismatched irises—one like molten lava, the other like glacial ice. But now, there was something different. Something softer. Something vulnerable.

Your heart swelled as you leaned in, closing the small gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss so soft, so tender, it felt like you were sealing all the unspoken words and emotions between you. The kiss was slow, delicate—a moment where everything else faded away. It was just you and Shoto, standing there under the warmth of the water, sharing something you had both waited so long for.

He kissed you back with a gentle urgency, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His hand came up to cup the side of your face, the water from his fingers dripping down your cheek as he deepened the kiss ever so slightly, but still kept it tender, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile moment between you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Your foreheads rested together, the water still trickling over you, but the world had gone quiet, a peaceful silence wrapping around you both.

You smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of wet hair away from his forehead. “We should get out of here before we both turn into prunes,” you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice, though your eyes remained full of warmth.

Shoto blinked, as if snapping out of a dream, and then nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah… that might be a good idea,” he said, his voice still hushed, the weight of everything that had passed between you lingering in the air.

You stood up first, offering him your hand to help him rise from the floor of the shower. He took it, the touch of his fingers against yours sending a soft warmth through your chest. Together, you stepped out of the shower, the cool air of the bathroom a sharp contrast to the warmth you shared inside.

Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around Shoto’s shoulders first, gently rubbing his hair dry before handing him another one. He looked at you with an expression so tender, so grateful, that it made your heart ache in the best way. You both changed into dry clothes, the atmosphere between you calm, comfortable—like the two of you had reached a new kind of understanding.

When you finished, you sat on the edge of your bed, Shoto quietly sitting next to you. The room was dim, the soft hum of the apartment’s heater the only sound between you. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes still held traces of exhaustion, but also something lighter—a quiet relief.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh. “You’ve worked so hard, Shoto,” you whispered, echoing the words you had said before, but now they felt even more meaningful. “You don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here.”

He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I know,” he murmured, his voice steady and soft. “I know now.”

And for the first time in a long time, Shoto felt a sense of peace settle over him. The weight of the day, the nightmares, the fear—all of it faded into the background as the two of you sat there, sharing the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was simple, and that was more than enough for both of you.

BONUS:

As the two of you sat in the peaceful quiet, your head still resting on Shoto’s shoulder, you felt the softest brush of fur against your leg. Before you could react, a familiar weight jumped onto the bed between you. Mr. Wellbottom, your grumpy but loyal cat, had decided to make his presence known.

The fluffy feline nudged his head against your arm, purring loudly as if to scold you for being away for so long. He then climbed into your lap, curling up into a cozy ball as he pressed himself into your warmth, his tail flicking slightly before settling down.

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand instinctively going to stroke his soft fur. “I missed you too, Wellbottom,” you said softly, scratching behind his ear the way you knew he liked.

Shoto looked down at the cat, a fond look in his eyes as he watched the little scene unfold. He reached out cautiously, his hand brushing against Mr. Wellbottom’s back, and to both of your surprise, the cat didn’t protest. Instead, he let out a soft purr, accepting the gentle touch.

“Looks like someone’s been waiting for you,” Shoto murmured, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed quietly, the sound soft and warm as it filled the room. “He missed his cuddle buddy. But you took good care of him while I was gone, didn’t you?”

Shoto gave a small nod, his eyes still on Mr. Wellbottom as the cat shifted to press even closer to you, as if making up for lost time. “Yeah, but… I think he was waiting for you. We both were.”

Your heart melted at those words, and you leaned into Shoto a little more, your fingers absentmindedly petting the content cat in your lap. The three of you sat there, surrounded by a calm that was as comforting as it was rare.

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was still. There were no battles to fight, no villains to defeat, no painful memories clawing their way to the surface—just the soft purring of Mr. Wellbottom and the quiet warmth of Shoto at your side.

“I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nestled into Shoto’s side. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #mha shoto #shoto torodoki #todoroki #todoroki family #toya todoroki #mha anime #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #kohei horikoshi #bnha

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dandelions-143 · 1 month ago

Text

First Time - Jeongin

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count:3300

Warnings: this one’s softer but still MDNI, 18+ ONLY (this kinda sweet and pretty tame)

No summary just smut under the cut

Jeongin watched nervously as you began to undress, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes widened, drinking in every inch of exposed skin with a mixture of awe and trepidation. The soft curve of your shoulders, the gentle slope of your collarbone, the tantalizing glimpse of your waist - each revelation left him more breathless than the last. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, as his gaze traced the outline of your body.

His hands trembled visibly as he reached out towards you, fingers hesitating just inches from your skin. The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, charged with anticipation and desire. Jeongin's breath came in short, shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his shirt.

As his fingertips finally made contact with your skin, a jolt of sensation coursed through both of your bodies. The touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if he feared you might disappear at any moment. Jeongin's eyes fluttered closed briefly, overwhelmed by the softness beneath his fingers and the warmth radiating from your body.

When he opened them again, his gaze met yours, dark and intense with a swirling mix of emotions - desire, uncertainty, and a hint of vulnerability. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper, rough with emotion. "I'm so nervous," he admitted softly, the words catching in his throat. "You're so beautiful, and I... I want this to be perfect for you."

You smiled reassuringly, gently taking his hand. Your fingers intertwined, the warmth of his palm against yours sending a subtle shiver down your spine. "It's okay to be nervous," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "We can take things as slow as you need." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek in a tender kiss. The subtle scent of his cologne filled your senses, a mix of cedar and citrus that made your heart flutter.

Standing in just your undergarments, you noticed Jeongin already sitting on the bed in his boxers. His gaze traveled over you, his eyes widening slightly as they took in every curve and contour of your body. A deep blush spread across his cheeks, the pink hue reaching the tips of his ears. "You're so perfect," he whispered, his voice barely audible, trembling with a mix of awe and nervousness. "I... I feel so inexperienced compared to you. What if I disappoint you? What if I can't make you feel good?"

You sat beside him, feeling the warmth radiating between your bodies. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, bringing you closer together. You could feel the slight tremor in his body, a physical manifestation of his anxiety. Gently, you placed your hand on his knee, your thumb tracing small, comforting circles on his skin. "I want you and no one else," you assured him softly, your eyes locked with his, conveying all the sincerity and affection you felt. "Tonight isn't about performance or experience. It's about us connecting, exploring each other. Let's just focus on being together, on feeling each other. Every touch, every kiss - it's all new and special because it's with you."

Jeongin reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm. The gentle touch sent a wave of warmth through your body, like sunlight breaking through clouds. His eyes met yours, a swirling mix of nervousness and affection evident in their depths. "Is this okay?" he whispered softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of your shared heartbeats.

"It's perfect," you reassured him with a warm smile that reached your eyes. You moved closer, your presence enveloping him like a comforting embrace. Your hands found his, fingers intertwining naturally. You gave them a gentle squeeze, feeling the slight tremor in his touch. The connection between you deepened, built on a foundation of trust and care that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

Slowly, you leaned in, your foreheads touching in an intimate gesture. You could feel Jeongin's rapid heartbeat, its rhythm matching your own excited pulse. The air between you seemed charged, crackling with anticipation and tender emotion. In that moment, words weren't needed - your closeness spoke volumes. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and you found yourself lost in the depth of his gaze, seeing a reflection of your own feelings mirrored there.

As your lips met in a tender kiss, Jeongin's initial nervousness began to fade. His touch, once hesitant, grew more confident with each passing moment. His hands, previously trembling, now moved with purpose, gently caressing your skin. The soft brush of his fingertips along your arms sent goosebumps over your skin, igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body.

You could feel the change in his demeanor, the way his body relaxed against yours. His movements, though still careful, were now guided by a genuine desire to explore and connect. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world. Jeongin's lips moved against yours with a newfound assurance, his breath mingling with your own in a dance of shared intimacy.

Taking your time, you savored each sensation - the warmth of his skin, the gentle pressure of his hands, the soft sighs that escaped him. Every touch, every caress was infused with care and affection. You allowed your connection to unfold naturally, like a flower slowly blooming under the morning sun. In this moment, there was no rush, no urgency - just the two of you, exploring and discovering each other with tender curiosity.

Your panties clung to your skin, the delicate fabric soaked through with arousal. The thin material had become almost translucent, clinging to every curve and contour. The ache between your thighs intensified, a pulsing need that seemed to radiate through your entire body. Each subtle movement sent a shiver of sensation through your core, heightening your awareness of just how ready you were.

You pulled back slightly, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. The slight separation allowed cool air to rush between your bodies, making you acutely aware of every point of contact. Your gaze locked with his, pupils dilated with desire. You yearned to hear his breath catch, to feel the slight tremor in his touch as he explored your body. The anticipation was almost unbearable, electric tension crackling between you as you hovered on the precipice of deeper intimacy.

With trembling fingers, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. Jeongin's eyes followed, his pupils dilating with desire. Then you reached out and tugged at the waist band of his boxers, your heart racing as more of his pale skin was revealed.

As you gently removed his underwear, the sight before you left you breathless. His arousal was evident, impressive in its girth if not extraordinary in length. The veins along the shaft pulsed visibly with his quickened heartbeat. The tip, flushed a deep pink, glistened with anticipation.

Your gaze traveled upward, savoring every detail. Jeongin's abdomen was taut, defined muscles creating alluring lines that begged to be touched. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, the pale expanse broken only by rosy nipples and the faintest dusting of dark hair.

In that moment, he was breathtaking—a perfect blend of vulnerability and strength, nervousness and eagerness. The realization that he was yours sent a thrill of excitement through you, intensifying your desire.

You straddled him, positioning his length between your thighs. With exquisite slowness, you rolled your hips, gliding him through your slick folds. The sensation of his hardness against your sensitive skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. Jeongin gasped against your lips, his breath hot and ragged.

His hands gripped your hips more firmly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he guided your movements with increasing confidence. You reveled in the contrast between his strong grip and the lingering tremor in his touch—a delicious mix of growing boldness and residual nervousness. As you continued to slide against him, his cock twitched noticeably, a generous bead of pre-cum emerging from the tip and mingling with your own abundant wetness. The slick warmth between your bodies intensified, heightening every sensation.

Jeongin's eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes casting delicate shadows on his flushed cheeks. The rosy hue had spread down his neck, a visual testament to his arousal. A soft, breathy moan escaped his lips, the sound low and rich, sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. The vibration of his voice seemed to resonate through your joined bodies. His head tilted back, exposing the elegant line of his throat—a temptation you couldn't resist. You leaned in, pressing your lips to the sensitive skin just below his jaw. Your tongue darted out, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his pulse racing beneath. Jeongin's breath hitched at the contact, his fingers flexing against your hips in response.

You yearned to feel him fully, to share the intimate warmth of your bodies without barriers. Though the condom waited nearby, you prolonged your sensual dance, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you both, building exquisite tension.

As you leaned over to reach for the condom, your breasts brushed his chest. Jeongin's eyes flew open, dark with desire. He lifted his head, capturing your nipple in his mouth. His warm tongue against your sensitive bud drew a sharp gasp from you.

You arched into his touch, the condom momentarily forgotten as Jeongin alternated between gentle sucking and teasing flicks. His growing confidence showed in each moan you uttered, his hands roaming your back and sides with increasing boldness. The dual sensations of his mouth on your breast and his hardness pressed against your core were nearly overwhelming.

With trembling fingers, you carefully opened the condom wrapper. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly rolled it down his length, feeling the heat of his arousal beneath your touch. As you positioned yourself above him, anticipation built, your heart racing.

The tip of his cock brushed your entrance, sending a shiver of pleasure through you. Exquisitely slow, you sank down onto him, keeping your eyes locked on his the entire time, savoring every inch as he filled you completely. The stretch was delicious—a perfect blend of pleasure and slight discomfort as your body adjusted.

Jeongin's lips parted in a silent gasp of ecstasy. His hands flew to your ass, gripping tightly as if to anchor himself against the overwhelming sensations. The muscles in his neck strained, his head thrown back against the pillow as he struggled to process the intense pleasure coursing through him.

His hips bucked involuntarily, driving him even deeper inside you and eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You began to move, lifting yourself until just the tip remained before sinking back down. Each movement sent sparks of pleasure radiating through your body, building a delicious tension in your core.

Jeongin's fingers dug into the soft flesh, likely leaving marks that you'd cherish later. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours, filled with a mix of awe and desperation. You could feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle taut as he fought for control.

The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure - soft gasps, breathy moans, and the rhythmic creak of the bed beneath you. The air grew thick and heavy, charged with the electricity of your passion.

Jeongin's breath came in short, ragged pants, his chest heaving. You could see the strain on his face, his brow furrowed as he battled against his impending release. His voice, when he spoke, was barely more than a strained whisper.

"I—I don't think I can... oh god, you feel so good... I can't hold back much longer," he stammered, his words punctuated by soft groans of pleasure.

You leaned down, pressing your forehead against his. The change in angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped softly against his lips. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks as you whispered back, your voice low and encouraging.

"It's okay, Jeongin. Don't hold back. I want to feel you let go..."

With those words of encouragement, Jeongin surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. His body tensed, muscles rippling beneath his skin as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. A low, guttural moan escaped his lips, the sound reverberating through his chest and sending shivers down your spine. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving him even deeper inside you as waves of pleasure washed over him. You could feel the pulsing of his release, each throb intensifying the connection between you.

You held him close, your bodies pressed together as if trying to meld into one. The tremors of his climax coursed through him, each aftershock causing his breath to hitch. His skin was flushed and warm against yours, a thin sheen of sweat making it glisten in the soft light. You could feel his heart racing, the rapid beats gradually slowing as the intensity of the moment began to subside.

Gently, you lowered yourself onto Jeongin's chest, both of you breathing heavily. The warmth of his skin against yours was comforting, a cocoon of intimacy enveloping you both. His chest rose and fell beneath you, each breath becoming deeper and more relaxed. Jeongin's arms wrapped around you, his embrace tender yet secure, as if he never wanted to let go.

You placed a soft, tender kiss on his forehead, tasting the salt on his skin. His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a look of wonder and contentment. "Did... did you finish?" Jeongin's chest rumbled with his words, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness even in this moment of vulnerability. Leaning in, you kissed his lips gently, savoring the softness and the lingering taste of passion.

"I'm only focused on you," you whispered against his lips, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest. "We have plenty of time for that. You should feel comfortable and happy." Your words seemed to wash over him, easing any lingering tension from his body.

Jeongin's eyes softened, filled with a mixture of gratitude, affection, and something deeper—a look that made your heart skip a beat. He pulled you closer, if that was even possible, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breath tickled your skin as he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "Thank you. This was perfect... you're perfect." The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making you feel cherished and adored.

As you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away. All that mattered was this moment, this connection you shared. The gentle rise and fall of Jeongin's chest, the soft caress of his fingers along your back, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat created a symphony of intimacy that lulled you both into a state of blissful contentment.

Taglist: tags in blue cannot be tagged for whatever reason

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sunflowerwinds · 2 months ago

Text

tongue tied | e.w

summary: finally, the weekend where the kids leave back home, the fourth of july falls on that same weekend. with that, you confess your true feelings to both abby and ellie.

contains: mature language, first kisses, corny and fluffy stuff, underage drinking, steve being a wingman <3

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

word count: 3.6K

a/n: i love THEM! sadly this is where it ends :( i’ve loved writing this for all of you and i can’t wait for more works. my inbox is open! <333 i’m so sorry if the ending seems rushed i just truly had no idea how to end it.

under the summer stars masterlist

The most anticipated weekend of the month finally came. The children would go back to their homes to retrieve new clothes and other necessities and/or decide to go back home if the camp life wasn’t for them. The entirety of the camp was empty and luckily for you all, the Fourth of July fell on that Sunday before the kids came back.

The second the last child hopped into their parents, Robin jumped onto Steve’s broad back in celebration. The duo were whooping and hollering with excitement which caused everyone to join in celebration. The sudden excessive noise caused the birds within the tall trees to scatter and flutter, weaving in between the branches of the leaves.

“We’re free for a weekend. We’re getting fucked up!” Dina shouted, jumping on your back with a loud laugh.

A loud clearing of a throat made all of you turn around to see Joel with crossed arms at the rowdy mess you all had become.

You added with a charming smile: “Responsibly, Joel.”

The grumpy man merely hummed as he stared at the loud group of young adults, causing everyone to say mutters of promises that they were going to be safe.

“Well we’re barbecuing tomorrow night for the fourth of July so I would like everyone to be somewhat sober before then.” He lightly scolded.

Ellie beside you let out a chuckle, looking at you with an excited smile.

“He didn’t say completely so that’s all I’m focusing on,” Steve spoke up, raising his palms up in defense.

“Oh, can we take my van to go and get Fourth of July stuff?” Dina folded her arms as she motioned her chin to her cute minivan.

Reluctant to give permission to the rambunctious group, Joel let out a sigh before scratching at his brow bone with a finger.

“Okay, but be back before sundown. No horsin’ around,” Joel scolds just like the dad he was to everyone for the summer.

“We promise,” you speak for the lot before hoisting Dina up on your back, holding underneath her lower thigh so she wouldn’t slip.

“Wait, I don’t wanna drive. Steve,” Dina calls over your head to the beautiful haired boy. “Can you drive, please?”

Steve let out a groan of complaint, letting Robin drop to her feet from his back to the mix of dirt and twigs.

“Why is it always me?” He questions as his hands rests on his hips, leg popping slightly.

Jesse speaks up for everyone, throwing an arm over his shoulders and placing a kiss to his scalp: “Because you’re a sweetheart, Stevie.”

Everyone cooed him as an obvious blush spread onto his cheeks. He pushed Jesse’s head away from him as he asked Dina for her keys, ignoring the pestering coming from his friends.

“Inside the office. We’ll meet you there.” Dina beamed as she leaned into your ear, tugging your shoulder carefully. “You’re sitting next to Abby and talking to her. End it so you can shove your tongue down Ellie’s throat.”

You look around to see Robin and Ellie talking as Jesse and Abby begin to walk towards the car. You let out a knowing sigh. As much as it would pain you to admit, Dina was right.

“Alright, get off me then.” You dramatically let out a groan.

The charcoal haired girl slid off of your back, adjusting her shirt and shorts before she pointed at you accusingly. You did the same, holding back your eye roll at her words.

“Do it. I mean it.”

You muttered a ‘yeah, yeah’ as you waited with Dina for Steve to come back with the keys and everyone’s cell phones. Within minutes, everyone tumbled into Dina’s adorable van, you doing as the bossy woman had asked and sat next to the muscular blonde. Steve got in the drivers, making it known he didn’t want to hear backseat driving since he was appointed as the driver for the day. You could feel Ellie’s confused stare on you as you’re shoulder to shoulder with the blonde but ignored it as you leaned into Abby to lower your voice so only she would hear you.

“Hey,” you grin kindly at her.

“Hi,” she responded, eyes concentrated on your own.

“I wanted to,” you suck in a deep breath, fiddling with the bracelet Ellie gave you on your wrist. “To apologize.”

Abby brows furrowed at your words.

“Why?” She sounded genuinely confused.

“I feel like I’ve been weird towards you and to be honest, I was trying to force a crush on you because I thought it would be easier than…” You trail off and turn around to see if anyone was paying attention but Jesse was in a conversation with Dina and Ellie which he was clearly invested in. Of course, Steve and Robin were chittering amongst themselves in the driver’s and passenger's seat. “Accepting and acting on my actual crush on Ellie.”

Abby’s eyes flickered from you to the auburn haired one, seeming to take in that information.

“I-I know it was shitty to do. I’m not trying to excuse it but I’m just apologizing and I hope we just be friends again.” You added on in a panic at her silence, trying to keep your voice at a low volume.

“We were always friends,” Abby states with a teasing smile.

You relax into the polyester seat, shaking your head.

“You know what I mean. I just— I’m sorry, Abs.” You turn to her with a winced expression.

“I accept your apology. Even though you didn’t need to apologize, I know you wouldn’t have been able to relax around me unless you did.” Abby chuckled as she nudged your shoulder with her own.

“Whatever,” you sigh as you realize she’s right, a smile creeping onto your own face.

“Can you do me a favor, though?” Abby raised her brows at you.

“Sure, yeah.”

Abby sucks in a deep breath, glancing at the one person she knew would make you happy if it couldn’t be her.

“Just please save everyone from you two dancing around the fact that you’re in love with one another and tell her.”

Your cheeks heat up at her request, delivering a soft punch to her shoulder. Abby laughs softly, settling into her seat as she goes on her phone to show her new high score on Piano Tiles.

“I will, Abs.”

Tomorrow night couldn’t have come fast enough. The whole group of young adults were surrounding the campfire, chattering amongst themselves. Tommy and Joel were grilling hot-dogs and fajitas for the night as everyone was patiently waiting for the explosions of celebrations.

“Steve, you’re telling me you’ve never even once thought about getting with a guy?” Dina asked him in disbelief, staring at him through her American Flag plastic glasses.

“Why is this so hard to believe?” He questioned as he took a sip of his beer.

It was hard to take him seriously as he was sporting a pair of American Flag swim shorts that the group had purchased for all of the guys the day before.

“I told you, babe. You give major bisexual vibes.” Robin motioned to Steve with a sigh, sipping her Sprite and vodka mix.

Most of the group hummed in agreement, Steve raising his brows as he was unsure whether or not to take it as a compliment.

“Well, anyways, who knows? I might experiment one day,” he shrugged his shoulders as everyone whistled at his confession.

“Hey, do you want another one?” Ellie whispered to you, pointing to your solo cup mixture of Vodka and Sprite with the rim of her own.

You lift your head up from her shoulder to stare at her. Her head wore a douche-y American flag baseball cap, similar to Jesse’s top-hat. You weirdly enough loved it on her but you blamed it on the lens you saw her through.

“Uh, yeah. Just one more, though.” You tell her with a small smile. “I don’t wanna throw up tomorrow.”

And be sober enough to tell you how I feel, your mind echoes.

“Gotcha. I’ll be right back,” she takes the cup from you, stepping over Robin’s legs.

As you shamelessly watched her go over to the table full of drink necessities, you caught Steve’s knowing smile that he was trying to hide behind the dark beer bottle. You ignore him and turn to Robin who was on the other side of you, snatching her phone from her hand to change the music.

“Hey!” Robin gasped as she reached forward.

“Just changing the song from this hill-billy shit,” you scoff before calling over to Tommy and Joel. “No offense guys.”

The two furrow their brows as they weren’t paying attention. You wave them off and out on some more calm 90’s R&B, waiting patiently for Ellie to come back with your drink.

“Should we go to the lake and watch the fireworks from there?” Jesse suggested, raising his bottle to everyone.

“I mean, I have to make use of these swim shorts,�� Steve shrugged as he chugged the last of his beer, setting the bottle aside.

You and Robin whooped playfully as Steve took off his shirt. Ellie passed by with your solo cup, making a face at Steve’s hairy chest. You chuckle as you stand up with everyone else, graciously taking the cup from her as you motioned to the lake.

“Come on. We’re going to wait for the fireworks in the lake.” You raise your brows as you reach for her hand.

Her hand intertwined with yours, the blush on her pale cheeks going unnoticed by you as your back was already facing her. You tugged her along behind you as the two of you followed the rest of the group. You watched as Jesse shoved Steve into the lake first, a loud yelp coming from the man. You and Ellie chuckled from a distance at the screaming and loud splashes of everyone trickling in one by one.

“If you push me in Ellie, I would actually pull out your hair,” you turn to her, slight teasing in your voice.

“Promise?” She cheekily grins, avoiding your eyeline.

You roll your eyes as you set your drink down on the wooden part of the dock, releasing Ellie’s hand. The sun was nearly half an hour from setting, a soft pink fade to orange decorating the sky beautifully. You turn to Ellie with a small smile as she’s setting down her own drink next to yours.

“Come on, guys!” Abby calls you two from the water, eyes

You open your mouth to make a snarky comment but you feel hands being placed on your back. Before you could react, you were pushed into the deep water. You lift your body out of the water with a loud gasp, whipping your head around and cupping your palms to splash towards Ellie who was laughing amongst the rest of your peers.

“Get your ass in here, Ellie!” You shout at her, shaking your head.

She did as she was told, jumping in right next to you drowning in water from the splash. As soon as she popped up from underneath the surface, you were quick to shove her head down into the water once again. You reluctantly let her up when her longer arms flail above the water, nearly smacking you in the face.

She shot up with a loud gasp, running her palm over her drenched face.

“You could’ve killed me!” She joked, shoving your shoulders.

“I could say the same for you. I told you not to push me in,” you retort as you kick your feet to keep your head above the surface.

“Well, I think hair pulling was the promise, right?” Ellie raised her now darker brows.

With anyone else you would’ve told them to get that kinky shit out of here but this was Ellie; someone’s hair that you would eagerly pull under the right circumstances. The relaxing sound of the water moving around you all, waiting for the beautiful lights to explode throughout the sky for Independence Day. The pink and orange horizon was now a darker and familiar blue, growing closer and closer to midnight.

Before you all knew it, the first whistle of the first firework in your area went off. You stared at the stream of light making its way up into the sky then bursting into bright blue and red. You always loved fireworks growing up; despite how sensitive your little ears were at the time. Now you can just relax and enjoy the view.

Ellie wanted to take in the beautiful sparks but you were the only thing she could focus on. Even with smudged mascara and drenched hair, you were the most beautiful by far to look at. You had a slight smile on your face that gave away your adorable admiration for the bright lights.

“Hey! Come on out the water! It’s time to eat!” Joel shouts over the noise of the fireworks and the music playing from Robin’s speaker.

“Alright. I’m out. I’m starving,” Jesse states as he swims towards the dock, lifting himself up and onto the wood.

The rest of the group followed after, muttering a series of ‘me too’ and ‘I’m so hungry’. Steve, though, made his way over to you and Ellie with a slight wince.

“Guys, I can grab you guys the food. Just tell me what you want.” Steve kindly grinned but there was something about it that was…cheeky.

It wasn’t until you noticed he made direct eye contact with you, brows raised suggestively. You narrowed your eyes and was so thankful that Ellie was behind you so she couldn’t see you obviously mouthing ‘I hate you’ to the beautiful boy.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll take two hot dogs and some barbecue chips,” Ellie spoke first as you were silently glaring at Steve.

“And what would you like?” His gaze focused on you, speaking to you with his soft brown eyes.

His look was telling you ‘you better tell her or I will’. You roll your eyes before telling him: “Some beef fajita with two corn tortillas and some cilantro, please.”

Steve nodded, looking over your shoulder with a small stupid shit-eating grin.

“Thanks, Steve,” Ellie says over your shoulder.

You suck in a deep breath and motion with your eyes for him to leave already.

“Yes, thank you, Steve.”

He nods as he grips on the ledge of the dock.

“No problem. I’ll be back with your orders, ladies.”

With that, he pulls himself up and out of the water to walk over to where the rest of the group was hounding for the freshly grilled food. That left you and Ellie swimming around the water, silence engulfing the two of you.

“He is such a dork,” you speak up, a fond smile on your face.

Ellie hummed in agreement, eyes following to every square inch of your face. What was she doing? Did you have a piece of grass on your face or something?

“Ellie?” You call her, swimming closer to her.

“Yeah?” Ellie blinked.

“You, like, zoned out on me there.” You chuckled and shook your head. “I was going to say we should probably get out so that we can eat soon.”

“Fuck, you’re right. Should we get out so we can eat right here on the ledge and still watch the fireworks?” Ellie offered when she realized you were right.

You nod with such a sweet smile Ellie thought about grabbing you to kiss you right then and there.

“Okay, c’mon,” you paddle over to the dark wood to lift yourself up and sit directly on the ledge.

Ellie stayed behind for a second to shamefully stare at your ass before you sat on it. She never thought she would be jealous of a piece of carved wood.

“Alright, move over,” she pats your calf that was dangling over the edge.

You almost flinch at her cold touch, silently missing her hand on you. You do as you're told and scoot your body down so that Ellie could slot herself next to you so that you were shoulder to shoulder. Steve was taking a suspiciously long time but you didn’t comment on it as you knew you were going to tell Ellie; you couldn’t and wouldn’t back out.

“So anything with you and Abby yet?” Ellie asks hesitantly, staring at your side profile as you beamed up at the sky.

The bursts of multicolored light lit up your face in a way that reminded her of how much she truly admired everything about you. You shook your head rapidly before chuckling awkwardly, adjusting your wet t-shirt that was clinging to your body.

“No, no,” you wipe off a few pieces of grass off your water-ridden thighs. “Friends. I thought I could…”

You trail off as you realize how close you were to saying the truth. Ellie, being irritatingly observant, noticed your hesitation to finish the sentence and furrowed her brows before nudging her own damp shoulder with yours. Your larynx tightens as you stare straight ahead.

“You could what?”

You refused to make eye contact with her, turning around to glance at your group of friends who were surrounding Tommy and Joel, grabbing the fresh hot-dogs and fajitas off of the smokey grill. You could see Robin smack Jesse upside the head for what you could only assume is something stupid he said. You smile small at the sight of Abby waving at you, knowing that the two of you were okay and remembering the conversation the two of you had.

“Just please save everyone from you two dancing around the fact that you’re in love with one another and tell her.”

You clear your throat and shake your head, taking a risk to stare at her gorgeous freckled face. Her auburn hair dark from the water seeped into her strands, a few droplets of lake water dotted on her nose, cheeks and lips.

“That I could… distract myself with her which,” you pause to groan and cover your eyes with embarrassment. “I know. It sounds so shitty but I don’t know. It seemed like the best option at the time.”

Ellie hummed to show she was paying attention to what you were saying.

“Best option instead of what?” Ellie questioned as she reached her hand to tuck a falling strand behind her ear.

You suck in a deep breath, replaying everyone’s encouragement to tell Ellie how you felt in your head. Your cheeks were heating up underneath the droplets of cool lake water as you were mentally piecing together the words that would get the point across.

“Well, instead of telling you the truth,” you vaguely confess, hoping that she would just take the hint.

“Tell me what?” Ellie leans forward to try and get you to look her in the eyes.

You sigh nervously, swinging your feet over the edge of the dock to the lake. Ellie glanced down at your fidgety legs and tense composure, a suspicion taking over her psyche but she kept quiet.

“Ellie,” you mutter, shaking your head as you glanced over at her figure.

The auburn haired girl had an awaiting expression on her face, green eyes wide and head tilted to examine your face.

“Yeah?” She questioned with a hum.

Your eyes shamelessly drop to her pink lips, watching a drop of water glide down them to her chin.

Fuck it.

“Can I kiss you?” You breathe out, eyes pouring into hers.

Ellie’s smile grows as soon as the word ‘kiss’ leaves your mouth, nodding at your question. Her body leans into yours as your lips lock slowly, like the two of you were trying to savor every moment. You sigh as her hand comes up to cradle the side of your damp face, moving her cool lips against your own.

Her lips taste like Vodka and lake water which would make you gag on any other occasion but you would take that taste forever as long as it was hers. Ellie’s running her thumb over your cheek, taking in a deep breath as she lifted her other hand up to cup your face to guide you into heavily kissing her.

You hadn’t made out with anyone in a long time but it came so easily as the three years of anticipation were dawning over the two of you.

“Fucking finally!”

You freeze at Dina’s shout from a few feet away. There was a small part of you that wanted to throw up in your mouth from embarrassment but Ellie was quick to flip over the now wild group. You even noticed Tommy and Joel with noise makers in their mouths.

“Three years,” Ellie whispered to you. “Three years I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“Now you can do it whenever you want,” you tilt your head, staring into her green eyes that seemed to be all pupil now that you were really looking into them.

Is that how your eyes looked when you looked at her?

“I can’t believe you never took it off,” Ellie grabbed your wrist and held up the bracelet she made you.

“Well, some weird girl obsessed with space and dinosaurs made it for me,” you grin cheekily, glancing at the adorable gift.

“Is she pretty?” Ellie furrowed her brows.

“Never met anyone prettier,” you admit, your cheeks aching from how much you were smiling.

Ellie’s own sheepish grin matched your own, kissing the inner part of your wrist and the beads of the bracelet. The two of you never explicitly said that you wanted to go out.

Every fiber in you knew that this right here was worth everything.

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