#and no don't come again saying 'don't bring race into this!!' like shut up shut up shut upppp

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[mywritersmind]

Hey!

I don't know if your still taking requests but if you are could you do another one with Fewtrell!Reader? Maybe another driver sees them texting or something and teases or bothers him about it,

Thanks! Btw don't feel like you have to do it immediately. I just love all your other works :)

CAUGHT - LN4

listen up : this is just silly i loved the request!! hickies is basically it. fewtrell!reader

word count : 500

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando smiled as he texted Y/n back. They’ve been arguing back and forth about the hickies he left on her neck the night before.

She was pissed but he was giggling and happily responded.

“Fucks got you so chipper?�� Max Fewetrell, the brother or Y/n and best friend of Lando, asks.

Lando shakes his head, typing back while speaking, “Nothing.” their relationship had become a secret over a few months of hooking up. Now that they were official, neither of them wanted to tell Max.

“Liar.” Carlos adds, unzipping his racing suit half way. Free practice had just finished and everyone was getting ready for more press. Max and Y/n were invited to the race and while Max explored with Lando, Y/n was walking around with Lily.

“He’s always like this.” Oscar appears, sipping his water, “Typing away.” Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, and Charles Leclerc all sit with them, laughing at Lando as he brings his phone closer to him so they can’t see.

“Come on! Who are you keeping a secret?” Max V adds as Lando’s phone is promptly snatched out of his hand and taken by George Russell.

“Hey!” Lando yells, trying to grab it back from the tall man.

“Oooh!” George shows the screen to Oscar who snorts. “Someone’s getting all lovey dovey!”

Oscar glances at Lando then back to the screen, “Who’d you mark up like that?”

“Mark up?” Charles asks and the men show him as Lando continues trying to grab his phone, “Shit! That is bad.”

“She sent a photo!?” Lando tells even louder as they all break into laughter, “Shut up! Give it!”

George starts to imitate Lando’s voice, “‘Don't worry, love, at least it looks hot!’ Lando you sweet talker!”

“Let me see!” Max F finally says the words Lando has been dreading. He watches the phone being turned to him like it’s in slow motion. It’s clear when he notices who they’d been talking about because Max’s face drops.

He clearly doesn’t think this is funny anymore, “Lando.”

“Okay let me explain!” Lando says quickly as the drivers look around, a bit confused.

“Lando!” Max repeats, standing up.

“Christ man what is she, your girlfriend?” Alex Albon laughs but shuts his mouth when Lando looks at him.

“My sister.” This makes them all go silent, “What the fuck, mate!?”

Carlos is covering his mouth, shaking from laughter as Max and Charles giggle freely, “You’re fucking his sister?” Alex shakes his head solemnly, like he knows how bad it is.

“Okay- We’re dating.”

“Dating!?” Max yells again just as the door opens and Y/n and Lily walk in.

“Who’s dating?” Y/n laughs as they join the boys.

She quickly realizes that it’s no laughing matter, especially for her. Her eyes darted between Lando and Her brother, wincing.

Lando sends a forced smile at her as Max just stared, furiously.

Max Verstappen is the one to break the silence, “Nice turtleneck.”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Just Friends

Or three times people mistake you and Jason as partners, and one time you let them think that on purpose. ~1.4k words

Jason Todd is your best friend. You just can't quite convince people of that. It happens more often than is good for your heart, people assuming that you and Jason are anything more than friends. Each time it makes your heart race, your face feel warm, and you have to remind yourself later that it isn't more, no matter if what you feel for him is. 

"You two look at each other just like my husband and I did when we were young. It's so nice to see such a lovely couple." The elderly woman tells you and Jason kindly, voice warm as she pats Jason's arm. She's come up to the two of you while you were picking over the novels in the bookstore, eyes full of reminiscent memories.

Jason reacts quicker than you can, draping an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. "We are, aren't we? Thank you, ma'am." 

She beams at him, and you nod weakly along with his words. "So lovely." She mumbles as she walks away. 

"Jason," You hiss quietly, "did you seriously just lie to that sweet old lady?"

"What? It made her happy." He counters, lazily smiling at you, still tucked comfortably under his arm.

You make a face at him and tut, moving to pull away. "Still a lie."

"Ah ah," Jason tuts back, and his grin becomes more playful, "gotta keep up appearances now."

You huff and duck your head to focus on looking for books, "Wouldn't have to if you weren't a liar." He laughs, and if your heart beats a little faster for the rest of the time you're in the store, neither of you mention it.

Jason is twirling you around the dance floor of the latest Wayne Gala, your favorite fancy outfit swaying with each movement. It's always fun, to dress up with him. It's not always so fun to hear Gothams elite talking about you.

"Isn't that the Wayne boy? Todd or something?" An older man asks, champagne in one hand.

"Hm? Oh, yes." The lady beside him responds.

"And his partner?" He asks, sounding completely uninterested.

"I can't remember their name. They've been together for as long as I can remember. Though, it is always lovely to see them, isn't it? It is so rare for the Wayne family to be all here." The woman answers idly, and you miss the rest of the conversation as Jason leads you away.

"Hey," He cuts into your thoughts when you miss a step, lost in thought over if all of Gotham thinks you're dating Jason. He pulls you a little closer to his chest to keep you from falling, fingers splayed over your back. "Where'd you go?"

His words bring you back to the present, and you look up to meet his gaze and lie, "Just thinking about how stuffy these things can get."

He clearly doesn't believe you, but doesn't press as he leads you around the dance floor, "Wanna go then?"

"No," You tell him, giving into the urge to rest your head against his chest, screw what anyone else thinks, "I like dancing with you."

He says your name so tenderly you nearly miss your steps again, "I like dancing with you, too."

"Todd, your girlfriend is here." Damian calls as he opens the door to Wayne Manor for you. You laugh a little, surprised but happy to see Damian making a joke about your arrival. You feel a little awkward sometimes, joining in on their family dinners, but Bruce assures you you're more than welcome. And Jason swears if you don't go, neither will he. 

"C'mon on, Damian, you know Jason and I are just friends." You smile as you talk, voice light as you step into the grand mansion. 

Damian frowns, "But Jason said–"

"Shut it, brat." Jason cuts in, practically bounding down the hall to get to your side.

He places a steady hand at the small of your back, shooting Damian a warning look as he guides you down the hall and to the dinner table.

The moment passes before you can ask about it, read into it. You're distracted by calls of your name and bombardments of excited questions from Jason's family as you enter the dining room. 

Dinner is delicious, as always, and when you end up sleeping over in Jason's room for the night, clad in his extra clothes, you forget to bring it up. 

Jason doesn't mind when people mistake him and his best friend for partners. In fact, he kind of loves it. It's good for you to hear, he thinks, because the more you hear it, the more used to it you'll become. 

He knows you don't notice the way he looks at you, and he can't decide yet if it's because you don't believe he could look at you like that, or if you're choosing to ignore it for some reason beyond him. 

Jason also knows that you like him. He just doesn't know if you're exactly aware of that fact yet.

He supposes it doesn't really matter, it's probably for the best you don't see how his face pinches when someone goes to flirt with you, how his shoulders tense and his skin pricks. 

The guy that came up to you while he was grabbing your coffee orders seemed innocent enough at first, until he said something Jason didn't quite hear from across the room. But he did see the way you stiffened. 

He's over at your side in an instant, one hand hooking around your waist to pull you securely against his side, balancing the tray of drinks and baked goods in the other. "Everything okay here, babe?" He drawls, eyes sharp. He wonders if you know that if you said the word, he'd jump this creep in this quiet, little Café right now. 

He settles when you lean into him, and answer without a shake in your voice, "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Good." He says casually, taking the chance to trace his thumb back and forth across your hip. "This guy botherin' you?"

"No!" The stranger cuts in, clearly a little intimated. 

'As he should be' Jason thinks before, lowering his voice to a threat and narrowing his eyes at the man. "I wasn't talking to you." His gaze and voice softens as he looks down to check on you. "Was he bothering you, baby?"

He can't help the smirk on his face when you actually seem to look proud. "Only a little, honey."

He has to actually force his eyes to leave your smile and look back at the man. "You bothering my date?"

The man steps back, "No– no, I mean, I didn't know they were with you– I– uh–" He stutters out, frantically looking between the two of you before turning and high tailing it out the door.

He nearly doubles over in laughter with you, careful to keep the drinks from spilling.

"That was kinda mean." You choke out between one giggle and the next, wiping mock tears from your eyes. He thinks it might be the nicest sound he's heard today. 

"Eh, he deserved it for being weird to pretty patrons of coffee shops. What'd he say?" He says, reaching out to pick an invisible string from your hair. It's an excuse to keep touching you, and his eyes go fond when you lean slightly into his touch. 

"Just something about taking me out for a drink," You answer, laughing while you grab your drink from him. "You're sweet, you know that?"

"Only to you." He says, eyes following your movements.

You hum, noncommittal. "You're sweet to other people, sometimes."

Jason laughs, hooking your free arm with his, "Sometimes," He relents, guiding you both out of the shop and back into the street, "But, I'm sweetest to you."

Pride blooms in his chest when you light up at his comment, "You should keep at that."

He grins, and swears to himself he will. "I'll keep that in mind, doll." 

It's a little thrilling, how when you have to unhook your arms to walk the crowded streets of Gotham, you take his hand. He squeezes your fingers, and it's satisfying that it's so easy to mistake you as his, especially in this moment.

He'll bring it up to you eventually, the idea of being more, but he's content with easing you into it, with watching how you try to make excuses for why everyone believes that you're together. How you try to convince yourself you aren't more. But, you are more to him, so much more. You always will be.

[wonryllis]

𖹭ㅤI'M A MTHRFCKIN STARBOY! ( enhypen as badboys )

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

﹙NOTES.﹚ enhypen as ur baddie-stars. 𖥔 ݁ fluff. fem!reader. 827wc. LIB?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 secretly picks you up at midnight and takes you to his illegal street race matches every week. "stay right here pretty, i'll win this for you," he brags, guiding you through the crowd of onlookers to the very front where he takes off his leather jacket and puts it on you,"don't want you getting cold" before he's rushing to his motorbike at the start line. quite literally winning it by a huge gap, wanting to impress you so bad even though he knows he's already bagged you bad enough. "i could win anything for you," his lips finding yours immediately after taking off his helmet and dropping it without a care.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 brings you to his underground boxing space to teach you self defense, taking the excuse of touching you everywhere. "here, here, and here," he says pointing to the points you should aim to attack. touching from your neck in a chokehold and dragging it down to just above your pantline. when you reach forward to try and tackle him, he's swiftly grabbing you by the waist and pinning you to the floor. hands cupping your wrists and lips hovering over yours, lightly brushing against,"you need to try harder angel," he moves again now bringing his lips to your lips, nibbling on your earlobe,"come for my match tomorrow?"

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 sneaks into your room late at night, hiding from your parents because they just don't like him at all. "jake what are you doing!" you whisper shout, opening your window and seeing him climbing up after getting his 'coming over' text. "just wanted to see my doll's face and hear her pretty voice," he winks, jumping over the window frame and immediately pulling you against him by your waist. his lips travel from on top of your closed eyes to your lips, to your jawline down to your collarbone and then back to your lips as he walks back to your bed. sitting down on the edge and pulling you over his lap,"you're so addicting,"

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 shows up unannounced to your university to take you back home, leaning against his bike as he waits for you, a stone cold look. "sunghoon?" he's smiling as soon as he sees you, moving forward to take your bag from you. "here," the little necklace you accidentally left with him last time, the one he hates so much because it's from your shitty ass boyfriend. his eyes bore into yours in a look of longing before he leaves a kiss on your forehead,"he doesn't deserve you," putting on the other helmet on you,"i'll make you mine, treat you so much better," stays at your doorstep until you walk inside and shut the door.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 pulls you into closed spaces when you fail to answer his texts and calls. "sunoo! what are you doing? what if we get caught!" his hands wrap around your wrists and bring you closer, your closed fists resting against his chest,"you weren't replying, i missed you," he says, his forehead coming to rest atop yours while his eyes stare into yours in the dark,"a lot," hands then moving to your waist as he leans down to bury his face in your neck, taking in the familiar scent of yours he is obsessed with. his fingers reach over to play with a strand of your hair as he leaves little below your ear, only he can get his close to you,"mine,"

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 hunts down and beats up people who make your life difficult in any way and then shows up at your window to apologize and have his wounds be treated by your tender hands. "baby i'm sorry but i'm not sorry," jungwon grimaces at your fingers touching the little cut on his lower lip. eyes trying to find yours as you keeping staring at his wounds in a silence that disturbs him. "for you i would cross any line in a heartbeat," his voice softens when you meet his gaze teary eyed, explaining to him that it's him going to such lengths that worries you, what if he gets seriously hurt," 's just, love you too much,"

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 at your doorstep any time of the day, unbothered about getting caught by literally anyone. puts you on top of any surface to make out. "oh my god riki stop it!" you swear while rushing down the stairs as he keeps on pressing on his loud ass horn until you're out the door and in his sight. you quickly stumble over the lawn to where he stands, legs over each side of his bike. hitting his chest in a scolding as he pulls you closer, "what to do, you make me crazy," his heart thumps heavily against yours in a sync,"haven't seen you all day, let me have a look," moving to cup your face close, breaths mingling in the cold.

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue

[allthingsfangirl101]

*Perfect Revenge – Steve Harrington

Warnings: cheated on and cheating with, underage drinking, rough sex, unprotected sex, language

I walked around the house, not entirely sure whose house I was at. With my one and only beer in my hand, I roamed the house looking for my boyfriend. Johnathan and I have been together for about three months. This party was his idea. I'm not sure why he insisted on coming. He usually hated parties.

I headed down the hallway and opened random doors. I wish I had never checked the last door. I covered my mouth as I gasped when my eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Johnathan?!" I yelled when the shock wore off.

"Y/N," he stuttered. "It's not what it looks like."

"Really?" I scoffed. "So you're not fucking Nancy Wheeler?!"

"Y/N. . ."

"Shut up, bitch!"

I turned around and stormed out of the room. I ignored their calls and focused on getting out of there. My mind was racing as I rushed down the hallway. I gasped when I bumped into someone.

"Whoa," Steve laughed. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

"I'm fine," I said, slowly and softly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I don't really believe you," he mumbled, "but anyway, have you seen Nancy?"

"Yes," I whispered. "But you're not gonna want to know."

"Why?" He paused. "Y/N," he elongated, "what's going on?"

I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. So instead, I pointed. He sent me a look before walking into the room I just left. I knew he was there when I heard Nancy gasp his name.

Wow. . . They didn't bother stopping.

When he reappeared in front of me, I could see the anger in his eyes. He looked at me and that anger softened.

"Let's go," he said through clenched teeth.

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" He said harshly. He cleared his throat and changed his tone. "I'm sorry, Y/N. When I said 'let's go', I meant let's get out of here before I beat your boyfriend's ass."

"Ex-boyfriend," I mumbled. "I mean I haven't actually broken up with him. He was a little. . . busy. But I think it's pretty obvious. Right?"

Steve smiled softly at me as he stepped closer and grabbed my hand. "Right," he whispered. "Let me try this again; wanna get out of here and go get a drink somewhere we aren't being cheated on?"

"I'd like that," I tried to laugh but my voice cracked. He intertwined our fingers and led me to his car. He turned it on but didn't leave the house.

"I don't know where to go," he mumbled.

"I know a place," I said softly.

"What do you mean? Neither one of us is twenty-one."

"My cousin owns a bar," I explained. "He'll serve us if you're with me."

"Good to know," he smirked.

As Steve drove us to my cousin's bar, I couldn't get the image of Johnathan and Nancy out of my head. I cleared my throat, trying to get the frog out of my throat.

"You okay?" He asked, pulling me out of my head.

"Nope."

"Me either."

When we got there, we got out of the car and headed inside. "Hey, Y/N," my cousin greeted us from behind the bar.

"We need a drink," I said, sitting on the bar stool in front of him. "Now."

"Wow," he laughed. "What's wrong with you two?"

"My boyfriend cheated on me tonight."

"Damn," he sighed as he instantly grabbed a glass and started making me my usual.

"With his girlfriend," I finished as I pointed at Steve.

"Double damn."

"Steve, this is my cousin, Mark," I introduced. "He's gonna get us drunk."

"Just don't tell anyone," Mark said, sending us a smirk. "What'll you have, Steve?"

* * * * *

About an hour later, Steve and I were deliriously drunk.

"What are we gonna do about this?" Steve drunkenly sighed.

"I don't know," I pouted. "But. . ."

"But what?" He asked when I didn't continue. He swiveled his stool toward me.

"But whatever we do. . ."

"Tell me, Y/N," Steve chuckled.

"Promise you won't judge me?" I asked.

"I promise," he said, crossing his heart.

"I want to make them hurt," I said, not meaning to make my voice sound darker. "I want to make them feel as shitty as we feel."

"What did you have in mind?" Steve smirked.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "We can't actually hurt them."

"True," he chuckled. "But we can do to them what they did to us."

"You mean. . ."

I held my breath as Steve grabbed my knees and spun me toward him. I gasped as he slowly slid his hands higher. I stopped focusing on how high his hands were going as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

As soon as my body flooded with endorphins, I grabbed his face and deepened the kiss. We scooted as close as we could get without falling off our stools. I gasped when Steve pulled on my legs, making my stool scoot closer to his. It still wasn't close enough to him so he slid off his stool. I moaned against his lips as he opened my thighs and stood between my legs.

"Steve," I moaned as soon as he broke the kiss and started kissing my neck. "Maybe we should. . . Don't you think. . ."

I gasped when he bit my neck, making me shiver with pleasure.

"Let's get out of here," I said quickly. Steve slowly pulled away with a dirty smirk on his face.

"I like the sound of that."

Without another word, Steve grabbed my hand and pulled me with him. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy as he led me to his car. We got in and started driving us somewhere. I didn't bother to ask him where we were going. The truth was, I didn't care where we were going.

I smirked when Steve pulled onto a hiking trail. My stomach flipped when I realized where we were going.

"I've always wanted to come here," I said under my breath.

"Johnathan never brought you to Skull Rock?" He asked, smirking in a way that made my whole body burn.

"He thought it was your spot," I whispered, "and he didn't want to run into you and. . . Nancy."

I looked away when I connected the dots and figured out the real reason he never wanted to come here. With tears in my eyes, I looked down and started playing with my fingers. I held my breath when Steve reached over and put his hand on top of mine.

"Let's not think about them," he whispered. "Besides, we're here."

I looked up to see Steve had parked. He got out and sent me a wink before opening my door for me. He grabbed my hand but I didn't go with him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his face dropping. "I thought you. . ."

I got out of the front seat but immediately turned and started getting in the back seat. Steve smirked as he leaned against the car.

"Y/N," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you know the whole point of Skull Rock is to make out at, on, and against Skull Rock?"

"I know," I shrugged. Steve swallowed hard when I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it into the front seat. "But what's the harm in getting started here?"

"Nothing," he said through clenched teeth. "Absolutely fucking nothing."

I laughed when he got into the back, instantly climbing on top of me. When he was straddling me, he tore his shirt off and tossed it toward mine. Steve made me gasp as he pressed his lips roughly to mine.

We didn't waste any time. Soon, we were only in our underwear, our bodies dancing against each other.

I gasped and arched my back when Steve leaned down and pressed his face between my breasts. I have never wanted to get rid of a piece of clothing as much as I have wanted to tear off my bra.

Luckily, Steve beat me to it. He slid his hand under my body and was able to undo it with one hand. The second he got it undone, I tore it off and tossed it somewhere.

"Fuck!" I moaned loudly as his lips wrapped around my nipple. "Shit, Steve Harrington," I moaned. "I used to hear about what you did to the girls you brought here."

I gaped when he roughly pulled away. He looked me straight in the eyes as he said, "All of them were nothing compared to you, gorgeous. They were just pointless and useless fucks. Not you."

Steve leaned down and smashed his lips onto mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, slightly pulling on strands until he groaned. When I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed the hem of his boxers and tore them down his thighs. The second he was free, I kicked off my underwear.

Before either one of us could really think this through, I opened my legs and Steve positioned himself. I gasped, breaking the kiss and arching my back when he pushed into me. Things sped up as our lips moved in sync as our bodies danced. We did different things, changing whenever we made the other moan.

We lost track of time as we only focused on each other. Out of the different sexual experiences I've had, Steve Harrington was something else.

"I know why all the girls at school call you the King of Hawkins High," I moaned. My moan turned into a gasp when he pulled out of me.

Steve chuckled as he leaned down and returned his face to my favorite spot. "Fuck," I groaned as he started massaging my breast with his mouth.

Without moving his mouth, Steve grabbed my leg and wrapped my thigh around his waist. I swore under my breath when he was able to push back into me while making out with my chest.

"Oh Steve," I moaned. I grabbed his face and brought it back to mine. Our lips instantly started devouring each other and our tongues battled for dominance.

"Squeeze," he moaned into my mouth.

"Harder," I moaned back. It seemed like we both held our breaths as we fulfilled the other's request. We let out releasing moans as we gave into our rising orgasms.

As we slowly pulled apart, we looked into each other's eyes. The butterflies went crazy as he reached up and moved some hair out of my face. I wanted to say something sweet, something to tell him how much the night meant to me, but nothing came to mind. So instead, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Guess we never made it to Skull Rock."

* * * * *

After Steve and I got our revenge, he drove me home and I figured it would end there.

It didn't.

A couple of days later, I was in my room finishing my report when someone knocked on my window. I looked up and my heart jumped in my throat.

"Steve?" I panicked. I quickly stood up, went to my window, and opened it. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he shrugged like it was obvious. I watched as he climbed through my window.

"Why?" I couldn't help but ask. When Steve turned around, he grabbed my waist and pulled me into his chest.

"Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he said, his voice low. "You, my backseat, and the hiking trail parking lot half a mile from Skull Rock."

I moaned when he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Without breaking the kiss, Steve walked us toward my bed. We gasped, slightly chuckling as we fell backward.

Instead of kissing me again, he stopped. He reached over and moved some hair out of my face.

"You really haven't stopped thinking about me?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Of course not," he whispered. "I have thought about absolutely everything that happened that night."

"Everything?"

"Well, not everything," he smirked. "But only the important parts."

"Like?" I baited. I moaned when he slipped his hand under my shirt, searching for my breast. When he squeezed, I let out another moan.

"Like the feel of your skin against mine," he started listing off. "Like the feel of your body underneath mine. Like the feeling of my lips on your skin. Like the feeling of other body parts pressed and intertwined."

"But what about. . ." I started to ask but couldn't get myself to finish it.

"I broke up with her after I dropped you off."

"Wait, what?" I asked, slightly readjusting under him. He sat up and pulled me with him.

"After I took you home the other night," he explained, "I went by her house. She wasn't there, so I waited. The second she got home, I went to talk to her. I demanded answers and asked her about her and Johnathan. I won't tell you. . ."

"Please," I cut him off. "Tell me."

Steve sighed as he reached up and moved a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he started, "but they've been hooking up for months."

"Months?"

He slowly nodded. "Wow," I whispered as I looked down.

"I know this sucks," he said gently, "but it's a blessing in disguise."

"How?" I asked, my voice breaking. Steve used his finger to lift my head. Without saying anything, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

"Because it got us together," he whispered as he broke the kiss and kept his forehead pressed to mine. "It made me realize that you are so much better for me than Nancy Wheeler."

"Really?" I asked, the butterflies from a couple of days woke up. He didn't kiss me. Instead, he started kissing my jaw. I felt the hickeys form as he explored my neck.

"What did you say?" I stuttered, trying to get my head back on straight.

"What do you mean?" He moaned against my collarbone.

"The other night," I barely got out, "with Nancy."

"Oh yeah," he smirked as he pulled away. "I ended it. I also told her you and Johnathan were over so she could have him." His smirk dropped. "Was that okay?"

"Yes," I said softly. "It is. Besides, those two cheaters deserve each other."

Steve leaned in but didn't press his lips to mine. Instead, he whispered, "Just like how we deserve each other."

"You really believe that?"

To answer me, Steve closed the gap between us and kissed me. I ran my fingers through his hair as our lips moved in sync. We broke the kiss with matching moans.

"I really do," he whispered. "I know Johnathan hurt you. And honestly, I want to beat the shit out of him for making you cry. But I won't do that. Instead, I'll get back at him by treating you better. Way better, Y/N. The way you deserve to be treated. I promise."

Steve put his hand on my stomach and laid me down, hovering over me. I arched my back when he started kissing and biting my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut as he explored my skin.

"Have you ever done it in the shower?" I asked between moans. Steve pulled away and smirked down at me. "I've never done it, but I hear it's pretty amazing."

"It's fucking unbelievable," he growled, grinding his body against mine. "I can show you the ropes."

"Ropes?" I teased. "Is that your kink, Harrington?"

"Not really," he shrugged teasingly. "My kink is more sneaking around and doing it when and where I know I shouldn't."

"Well then," I moaned as I slid my hands under his shirt and started slowly unbuttoning his pants. "I can show you the ropes."

[sunni-stuff]

heyy can i ask for virgin!ghost having his first time with reader? ty💗

Non-non, I want you to know I tried to sleep but every time I closed my eyes I thought about this.

-🌤Tags: Afab, nsfw, p in v, over-eager Simon

Your feet stumble backward as Simon takes an aching steps forward, pushing you against the wall. His rough hands explore your mouth watering body, gripping and squeezing any soft flesh he can find. Your lips collide in a frenzied kiss, teeth clashing as you both moan with unbridled lust.

Simon's strong hands wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His hips thrust eagerly against your midriff, each movement accompanied by a grunt that turns into a fussy whimper as his lips meet yours. He's unable to control himself as he ruts away, the bulge of his cock rubbing against your belly button.

Your breaths come in short gasps as you try to speak, but Simon is too lost in his pleasure to hear you. He grinds against you sloppily, his movements wild and desperate. The sound of his heavy pants echoes through the room, the pitch rising with each passing second.

“Si…” You whisper again, this time louder as you place a hand on his chest. It seems to snap him out of his trance, his eyes meeting yours with a teary gaze. A wet spot had already formed on the front of his pants, evidence of his unbridled desire. “Simon, it's not a race.” Your voice is filled with concern and a hint of teasing frustration at his lack of control. His movements slow to a halt as he looks at you, still panting heavily and struggling to regain his composure.

“‘M sorry.” Simon mumbles between bated breaths.

“It's alright, dovie.” You whisper tenderly, cupping Simon's face in your hands. You wipe away any stray tears that escape his eyes, a result of his built-up sexual frustrations. You press a loving kiss to his lips, electing a desperate groan from him.

“Come on, I'm sure the bed is more comfortable.” You say softly, pushing yourself away from the wall and taking him by the hand. Simon follows obediently, his head bowed low like a scolded puppy.

You can't help but chuckle at his demeanor; he's clearly thrilled at the thought of being alone with you and away from work. This would be the furthest you've gone in your relationship aside from the occasional foreplay and groping touches, and clearly, he's ecstatic about it.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Simon wastes no time, stripping out of his clothes with such swiftness that it surprises you. He's impatient, needy, and completely enamored by you. Now naked, his chiseled form stands out amid the dim light, muscles reflecting the weight of his job while the leaky head of his cock announcing his thirst.

He reaches for you, his hands craving to be anchored to your very being, but you push him away, making him growl in frustration. “Not yet, need a johnny.” You remind him as you too begin to get naked.

“Don't need one.” He grumbles out.

“And why not?”

For a moment, there's no answer; only the sound of his heavy breathing as he watches your heavenly body be laid bare to his eyes. His mouth waters as he burns the naked image of you into his mind, never wanting to forget this view.

“Are you gonna answer me, Si?” You turn to look at him and in an instant, he pushes you onto the bed and forces himself between your legs, gazing down at what would be his downfall: your wet and succulent cunt waiting for his ownership. Simon tries to bully his way inside, but you shut your thighs close before he can even try. He meets your gaze with a look of absolute betrayal on his face.

“Do you even know what you're doin’?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.

Simon freezes, almost like a deer caught in headlights, a pink flush creeping up his neck. “I've seen…in videos,” he admits through clenched teeth.

Your lips curve into a hum of amusement as you cautiously open your legs again and watch him for any impulsive moves. “Well, you can't just rush in.” You reach down and grip his cock firmly, bringing it towards your dripping entrance. “Slowly.”

Your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as his cock enters you, thick and full, stretching you wide with each inch. Simon's mouth falls open and his eyes close, focusing on tightness surrounding him.

It's everything he wanted and more.

His excitement takes over, and with an abrupt, strong thrust, he buries himself completely, causing you to gasp in both pleasure and pain. But Simon doesn't seem to notice; he's already lost in the sensation, drooling with delight as a tingling buzz of electricity runs up his spine.

“Ohh… fuck,” Simon moans, thrusting uncontrollably, not giving you a moment to adjust.

You feel incredible. This is what he has been missing out on - pure bliss.

Simon's movements are rough and uncoordinated, hitting spots that you didn't know existed, causing you to occasionally grit your teeth in discomfort but also moan with pleasure.

“Simon, please slow down,” you manage to call out, gripping onto his forearms as he pounds against you.

But he doesn't hear you.

Simon's too focused on the feeling of your pussy around his cock, the wet squelching only adding to his satisfaction. And when he does open his eyes, it's not to look at you but rather at the sight of your stretched and swollen cunt under his relentless act.

You are perfect, your pussy is perfect. His hips are moving, but what about his hands? How does he use them? As he finally looks at your face, his brown eyes beg for help, as if he wasn't just ravishing you without any concern.

You huff with annoyance and briefly consider turning him away after he forced himself onto you. But those brown eyes... how can you resist him? With a roll of your eyes, you take his hands and place them on your breasts. "There, just play with them."

Simon pauses, his large hands exploring and squeezing your breasts to his liking, watching as your mouth falls open in moans.

Ahh... now he's getting it.

Simon begins to thrust again, this time not only focused on his own pleasure but also yours. He rolls and squeezes your breasts until your nipples stand up prettily. He leans down, pressing your breasts together and eagerly suckles and licks on your nipples, with a hint of roughness.

You're seeing stars now.

His length hits a spot deep inside you while his tongue wets your nipples, sucking and making popping sounds as he moves between both tasks.

While Simon's thrusts are still awkward, there is no more pain now as he learns what makes you tighten around him even more. "Am I doing good?" he asks in muffled words, lips sucking hard on one nipple while his eyes plead for praise.

You can only nod, unable to form any words beneath him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you until his tip reaches your cervix.

This spurs him on even further; the look in his eyes is intense, a burning flame only meant for you. Simon lets go of your breasts, interlocking his fingers with yours as he kisses you sloppily yet passionately, your tongues tangling together in a way he notices sends you into another tight clench. He takes note of this, kissing you even harder, the speed of his hips increasing as your bodies merge in a flurry of skin slapping against skin.

As your stomach tightens and your legs tremble, you know an orgasm is inevitable. "Si-" You gasp, pulling away from his lips. Simon silences you with a kiss, whispering, "Shh... I know."

He feels it, too. He wants it, too. He wants you to climax all over his cock. And you want nothing more than to give it to him. After all, it's his first time, and it's only fair that he gets his loves slick all over him.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as your bodies meld together in a warm embrace. Simon's close, too. He has been holding back since he entered you, savoring the feeling of being inside you for as long as possible. But with you beneath him, willing to give into his selfishness, how can he resist any longer?

He's on the edge, his hips starting to betray him. So he holds onto you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rolls his hips out one last time before slamming back in and filling you with his hot cum.

"Simon!" You cry out in pleasure as your own orgasm washes over you, mixing with his inside of you.

In the aftermath, there is only silence apart from the sound of your heavy breathing. The scent of sex and sweat fills the air, mixed with the musky aroma of Simon's cologne. It's almost suffocating, but in the most exhilarating way

Neither of you moves or speaks until you break the silence. "You did good, big guy," you praise sweetly, running your fingers through his hair.

But Simon grumbles at that; he doesn't want to just be good. He wants to be better for you. "Let's change that," he states huskily, pressing feather-light kisses to your neck and collarbone, already hardening inside of you for round two.

"Fuck." You moan as he starts moving again.

🌤 Ty for the request, I have sm more, but it's hard to come up with ideas.

P.S. This wasn't proofread

[pretty-little-mind33]

Count Alexei Vronsky x fem!reader

Summary: You're forced into an arranged marriage.

Genre: fluff, angsty

Warnings: Alexei is kind of an asshole in the beginning, reader is from France, the daughter of a Marquis, and she is described as having hair that can be pinned up and curled (otherwise no descriptions), sexism of the time (very mild)

~ thank you anon! sorry this too forever (this was requested ages ago)!! ~

COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST

As you brush your hair in the mirror of your vanity, staring unemotionally at the girl staring back, your mother's words ring in your ear. "Love, beautiful love, can be learned, ma chérie (my love)," she'd promised, as her hand lay on your nervous knee, smoothing her thumbs over the crinkled skirt of your lavender dress, the fabric bunched up from hours of carriage riding. 

"I did not love your father when I met him. Not in the beginning." Your mother smiled and continued, "But, when it finally happened—and it will for you too—I could not imagine myself without him." 

And you did believe her. Up until you took your first step on Count Vronksy's estate, the sun hot and warm on your skin, you listened to your mother's proclamations of true love with attention and yearning. 

You still want to believe her even now.

Your future husband's lips had felt so foreign on your upper palm, the feeling more like a courtesy than something intimate. He hadn't said a word, minus the polite greetings that frankly don't count in those situations, as he stood beside his mother wearing an oddly vacant expression. The blue shine of his eyes mirrored an ocean you imagined losing yourself in, but one you couldn't yet reach. 

You suppose you should feel incredibly lucky that he didn't turn out to be some old, hideous, nobleman with crooked teeth and chapped lips. You certainly did feel lucky that the only reputation he had was player tendencies and fleeting infidelities—which your mother promised you could be dampened with time and care. 

"He will be a good husband to you, mon amour (my love). Give him time."

Your mother sounded so sure, but you didn't know how much time your heart could handle without breaking.

Across the house, Count Alexei Vronsky paces his bedchamber, his white chemise hung loosely over his shoulders as he practically tugs at his blond curls. His mind races with countless scenarios and possibilities as he plays the memory of meeting you on an endless loop. 

"Alexei," His mother, Countess Vronskaya, chastises as she sits on his bed, her lips pursed. "You are acting like a spoiled child. Sit down." 

Her youngest son shakes his head, his voice coming out strained. "I cannot do this, Mama," he says, meaning every word. "I do not know her. I cannot love someone I do not know!"

"Love?" Countess Vronskaya scoffs, staring at him with sharp eyes, "What on earth has put that silly word into your head? And don't tell me it was your little affair from a few months ago—oh, the shame—" she fans her lace fan faster and then shuts it and abruptly lays it onto her lap.

"Alexei, love does not exist. Responsibility, on the other hand, does. It is your responsibility to make up for your mistakes and this is the solution. Marriage. Besides," she fans herself again, "You can easily have Mistresses, I am not denying you that so please, stop this nonsense at once."

"I do not want any Mistresses!" Alexei exclaims, his frustration growing.

Countess Vronskaya stares at her son with an expression of annoyance and disbelief. "Then what, pray, do you want? To bring further scandal upon this family with your childish rebellion? You will marry this girl. It is not a request but an order."

Alexei drops to his bed, his head held pitifully in his hands as he calms his breathing. He pretends he's anywhere but here, his mind focusing on how the wind against his window sounds like waves crashing onto sand. 

One. Breath in.

Two. Breath out.

Three. Breath in.

"I understand, Mama," he whispers, knowing he has no choice in the matter. 

* * *

One. Breath in.

Two. Breath in.

Three. Breath in.

"Maman, it's too tight, I cannot breathe," you whimper as you press a palm on your stomach, feeling slightly light-headed as the maids tighten your corset and slip over your periwinkle dress, the silk sliding over your shoulder as one hangs delicately to the side. It's a simple dress, minus the puffs and ruffles. "Beauty is pain," your mother says, nodding her head as the maids continue to dress you up. 

They pin up your hair with a silver pin and wrap your neck in pearls, adding earrings to finish the look. "Charmante, ma chérie (Beautiful, my dear)," your mother admires as she stands and pushes a stray curl behind your ear.

"Il va t'adorer (He'll adore you)."

You focus on her promise as you walk down the grand staircase and enter the ballroom, which is illuminated by golden chandeliers and sparkling candles. The event looks lavish and it seems to you that Countess Vronskaya had invited all of Russian Society for the announcement of your marriage. Your stomach churns with nerves as you glance around the room. You don't know how to introduce yourself to the women who stare judgmentally from behind their fans. 

Your mother takes your arm and leads you to the center, where Count Vronsky stands beside his mother again, chatting ideally with some other aristocrats. Upon seeing your arrival, he turns and you hold out your hand, his lips brushing your skin in the same fleeting manner as it had earlier. 

"Good evening, Lady Y/l/n," he says, looking you over and you wonder if you look unpresentable from the way he's staring. His gaze then shifts to your mother. "Marquise Y/l/n."

You smile up at him. "Good evening, Count Vronsky," you say and then smile at his mother, "Countess—" You swallow your words when she sees your dress and her frown deepens. 

"What is this?" she asks with a hiss, her voice low. Alexei tenses from beside her. 

"I beg your pardon?" you whisper, eyes wide with confusion as your mother's frown deepens.

"Your dress. It isn't suitable for an occasion like this," Countess Vronskaya almost snarls, looking around the ballroom and then her eyes land on you again. "You look positively underdressed!" She sounds completely taken aback and almostdisgusted as she looks you up and down. You feel stupid and exposed, hearing her tell you this in front of your future husband. You don't dare look at him.

Your mother takes the fall. "I didn't know this wouldn't be suitable for this occasion, Countess Vronskaya. In France—" The Countess sends her a dirty look, clearly having no patience for any explanations.

Your mother exhales, "I assure you, Countess, the fault lies with me. I misjudged the attire. I apologize for my mistake," she says with a forced smile, pushing on your back to move you closer to Alexei—who still hasn't said a word. "Our children should have a dance, shouldn't they?" 

You look up at Alexei, your chest tightened as you make eye contact. Countess Vronskaya doesn't seem pleased but she nods and Alexei holds out his arm, his lips still shut as he stares in front of him.

You hesitate but take his arm as he leads you onto the dance floor and begins the dance, his hand around your waist. You try to remember the moves and once you're finally comfortable, the dance is suddenly over.

"I–" 

Alexei interrupts you with yet another chaste kiss to your hand and then he spins around, his posture as composed as it always is. He excuses himself and walks to make conversation with other guests, leaving you all alone. 

You stare at him, blinking back tears. How are you supposed to love him if he won't even talk to you? You feel hopeless as you stand there, feeling stupid and lonely in your dress.

So lonely. 

* * *

Alexei's knee bounces impatiently as he waits. You're over thirty minutes late. None of your maids have seen you and neither has your mother. His mind flashes back to last night; your pretty smile, the sound of your voice and the curls in your hair—the ones that had gotten slightly messy with the constant movement of your head. He feels a tightness in his chest. 

Where are you?

The thunder cracks outside, the rain pouring against the window of the parlor. It's a dreadful day and it only creates a pit in his stomach at your disappearance. Something is wrong.

"Should I fetch your mother?" One of the maids asks timidly when, ten minutes later, you still haven't shown up. Alexei takes a breath and shakes his head, he stands and holds his head in one hand. 

"No need, it's fine, I'll—" 

He's interrupted by the sound of a familiar neigh-ing outside the window. His head snaps around and his eyes widen. "Frou-Frou?!" he gasps, seeing his horse out in the rain. His eyes widen even more when he sees familiar hair blowing messily in the wind and rain, covered only by a flimsy cloak.

He stands and runs outside, ignoring the calls from the confused maid. All he can think of is Frou-Frou and you. Frou-Frou doesn't do well with strangers and Alexei knows that the slightest jerky movement could startle him and he could unintentionally hurt you. You. Why would you steal his horse? In a thunderstorm no less? 

Are you running away?

"Y/n!" he screams into the yard. You're approaching the fence but Frou-Frou's never ridden outside of the manor without him. Alexei breaks into a run and curses when Frou-Frou makes a jerky movement, kicking you from his back as you scream. The rain is blurring Alexei's vision now as his white shirt becomes soaked. His hair is sticking to his forehead as mud from the grass sticks to his boots. You've fallen into the mud and grass, your skirt heavy under the extra weight of the rain.

Seeing him run up, you try to stand to run but the mud slows you down and you fall again. Frou-Frou panics from the rain and the situation and he runs off. "Damnit," Alexei curses, hesitating. He knows Frou-Frou isn't going to leave the grounds without him, so he turns and grabs you under your armpits. "What is wrong with you?!" he hisses as thunder cracks again. You kick your feet, mud splattering his trousers and Alexei's chest tightens when he sees the tears in your eyes. 

"Don't touch me!" you hiss, hitting him as you try to stand in the mud. 

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, pulling you upright. "Were you attempting to flee?"

"Why should it concern you?" you spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

"Because you are my betrothed!"

"And you do not love me," you hiss. Your heart is thumping and you hate how pretty he looks, wet and disheveled. You hate how your heart reacts to him in ways you're sure his doesn't when he looks at you.

Alexei groans, his head already hurting from this entire situation. He just holds you tighter. "You are correct—I do not know you well enough to claim such feelings for you. But I do not wish to see you harmed, running recklessly into a storm! My God, you already drive me mad! How am I supposed to tame you?" 

He sighs, his voice drifting when he realizes he's said the wrong thing as your expression twists into one of pure anger. You hit him with your palm, mud flying into his hair. 

"Tame me? Is that how you see me?"

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like that," he tries to explain, shielding himself as he keeps his hold on you. You're so different from when he'd met you yesterday when you'd been on your best behavior— he groans when you pull away, only to slip and fall.   

You shriek when he falls over you, the rain still pouring on you both. It's almost comedic now, your dress and his chemise a mess of dirt, mud, and rainwater. "Lady Y/l/n, please," Alexei tries again, struggling to get you to listen to him. 

Once he's leaning over you, his knees digging in the dirt as he holds your hands beside your head, he whispers; "My darling, please, you misunderstand me." 

You're breathing heavily now, your gaze intense. 

"I do not love you, but that doesn't mean it has to be like this our whole lives," he whispers, not sounding quite like himself. He lifts one arm, finger gently tracing your cheek as he slides the mud away. "It does not mean I want to see you hurt, running off in a storm with my horse." 

You calm your breathing and when you move to sit up, he does the same and you both catch your breaths. The rain is soaking you both, the cold air chilling your skin, and you watch him. He doesn't look as distant anymore. His skin is smeared in mud and his blond hair is askew. You push some wet strands of hair away from your eyes, half wishing he would have just let you run away. 

As the storm begins to calm and the rain softens to a gentle drizzle, Alexei's breathing is calm.

"I did not mean to frighten you," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "I just—I feel so out of place. As if I don't belong here. As if I don't belong with you in your world."

His expression flickers, and for the first time, you see a vulnerability he's been keeping hidden beneath his polished exterior. "Do you think I don't feel the same?" he asks quietly, his voice raw. "I have spent my life pretending to be the man everyone expects me to be. I have never been what anyone truly needs. I am not fit to be a good husband."

The honesty in his words sends a sharp hurt through your chest. "Then why chase after me?" you ask, your voice shaky. "Why not let me leave if you feel the same way?"

Alexei hesitates, then with a deep breath, he moves a little closer, his eyes searching yours. "Because," he begins, "when I saw you out here, stubborn and fearless in this storm, I realized something. You might be the only person brave enough to truly see me. And if I let you leave, then I would regret it until the day I die."

The rain has nearly stopped now, the storm's fury replaced by a stillness that feels almost unreal. You're unsure what to say, your chest tightening with the weight of his confession. For a moment, neither of you moves. The distance between you feels both vast and insignificant, the air thick with something that will probably remain unnamed.

Then, almost tentatively, Alexei leans in, the lips that had barely let themselves brush your hand, now kiss your forehead. You inhale.

"We can figure this out," he murmurs against your skin. "Together. Please do not run anymore. I can do better, for you."

You close your eyes, the weight of his words settling in your heart as you take them in. A moment passes and then you force a small smile, leaning into him as you nod.

"Okay. Let's go find Frou-Frou then," you whisper, earning a smile from Alexei. Your smile widens a little. Maybe your mother was right—maybe love could be learned. And perhaps, just perhaps, it could start here.

[love-belle]

i love u forever !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she's a baker and he's in love — even with a few incidents involved.

or

for when you want to spend the rest of your life laughing with them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // carlos sainz x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hiiiii :) back in my active era mid term is OVERRRRR !!!!! will be posting max's version for how u get the girl soon <3 i love u sm thank you so much for reading :)

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, lilymhe and 785,527 others

yourusername not pictured - carlos almost dropping the cake with LIT candles on my lap

tagged carlossainz55

7,628 comments

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*liked by yourusername*

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carlossainz55 i love you but please stop making me your assistant in baking

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username died gone deceased six feet under decomposing rotting

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 879,625 others

carlossainz55 of course she had to stop and take pictures

tagged yourusername

7,829 comments

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*liked by carlossainz55*

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-> username NAH BC I MET HER IN LONDON AND SHE'S SOOOO SWEET LIKE AN IRL ANGEL

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charles_leclerc tell her i miss her and that she needs to bake those macaroons again

-> carlossainz55 she says no

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-> yourusername charles!!!!! come over tomorrow!!!!!! i'll bake whatever u want and bring alex 🤍

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-> carlossainz55 no

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-> carlossainz55 no don't call her my love

-> lilymhe okayyyy stay salty

username listen im soooo happy for y'all but i DON'T need to be reminded that im painfully single every time i open this app

yourusername ofc i had to

-> carlossainz55 of course you did

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

*yourusername added to their instagram stories*

[wyvernest]

hello! i absolutely love your writing could i request smth like fem! reader with miguel where she buys a suggestive nightgown/lingere set or outfit for him and how he’d totally melt when he sees it? thank you :))

for your eyes only

pairing: miguel o'hara x wife!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship, piv, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, slight body worship, tiddie sucking?

summary: miguel has been overworking himself, and you buy a new lingerie set to help him release some stress

divider by @cafekitsune <3

You and Miguel are on a vacation.

He had been more than stressed lately with the aching duties of leading the spider-society, but the very last thing he intended to do was to neglect you.

So naturally, he thought of ways to spend more time with you, yet every time you two would finally get into the mood, right when he was about to make you his all over again, an anomaly or a system malfunction at HQ would interrupt you, leaving you with your heart racing and him with terribly uncomfortable blue balls.

He had had quite enough.

He surprised you with the tickets several weeks ago, on one of those rare occasions on which you two happened to be alone in the intimacy of his house.

To say that you were overflowing with joy is an understatement. He assured you that while he is gone, Jess would remain in charge so things don't go downhill.

So now, here you are, packing for a long-awaited, honeymoon-replica with your beloved husband. You feel enormously grateful for his effort to make you a priority, even more so when you remember how anxious he was about abandoning his job for a while.

You want to make it worth it.

You want to make him forget about all the stress and worries. You want to be there for him, to help him, to comfort him,

to pleasure him.

After assessing all options, you decide you're more than happy with the results.

"What's gotten into you?" he inquires playfully in between your hurried, passionate kisses as you drag him into the hotel room, excitement evident in your movements. 

He's clearly more than pleased to see you clinging onto him like a lifeline, his ego undeniably boosted by the desperate make out session you just pulled him into right in the hallways. The knowledge of still being able to drive you crazy so effortlessly makes him smirk into the heated kiss.

"Told you." you gasp shallowly, parting from his swollen lips as you pull at his shirt, seeking to take it off. "I have a surprise."

Taking the hem and tossing the shirt out of your way, he bends down slightly, his massive shoulders bringing his shadow upon you, intimidating but so hot.

"Tell me about it." His voice is an octave lower, deep and provoking. You have to actively fight your brain from melting into lust and hunger for him in order to remain conscious and stick with the idea.

"No need.", you push at his biceps and he complies, backing off, an eyebrow raising in slight confusion mixed with surprise.

"You just have to take a shower first."

"Ah." his mood shifts abruptly, his head tilts to the side as if to check if he really needs one.

You can't help but burst into a hearty chuckle. "No, not because of that! I just need you away for a couple of minutes."

Your eyes squint, suggestive. He doesn't fail to catch on to your request, the ideas of what you might be up to already taking form in his mind, making his eyes shine a dark red glow.

Stepping back, he heads to the bathroom, turning back to you before shutting the door.

"Be quick. I won't be long.", He warns, almost threateningly, and you can't stop yourself from growing wet at the thought that he would take you the second he's out, no matter if you're ready or not.

Coming back to your senses, you hear the water running in the shower, yet sense no movement. You know he's listening in, but you couldn't care less. Enhanced senses or not, he wouldn't possibly be able to tell that you're rushing to the luggage to snatch the lingerie set you brought just by the shuffling alone. 

Or can he?

You're fast to discard your evening outfit, slipping into the set. Glancing at yourself in the hotel mirror, a nearly evil smirk takes over your face imagining his reaction. Adjusting everything in place, you look at the bright red straps around your thighs, ever slightly too tight, just to make the flesh look plumper, ready to pop out of its confinement; you look at the thin panties, inviting and bold, leaving your ass bare for his hands to play with. And finally, the pièce de résistance, the bow tie holding your breasts together, the only thing covering them.

Fixing your hair and doing the final touches to the bed, turning the lights off and lighting a couple candles, you take your place on the soft mattress.

You feel your heart racing like it's your honeymoon night, your nervousness not aided by the sound of the water tap falling silent and of him stepping out of the shower.

It only takes him a few seconds to tie a towel around his hips and push the door wide open, the bright light creeping into the room through a barely-there cloud of condensation.

The moment he spots you, he stops dead in his tracks.

"Ay, mierda.." He mumbles, more to himself, his eyes scanning your body up and down, from head to toe and back.

"So beautiful," he concludes, tone heavy with need as he approaches you slowly, eyes still not meeting yours. "And all mine."

Getting up from your spot, you meet him halfway, kneeled on the edge of the bed. Your hands fly to his massive shoulders, moving up his neck to tangle in his damp hair. He grabs your waist, the heat of his palms on the bare skin of your middle sending shivers up your spine like it's your first time together.

Nearly getting lost in the sight of him, half naked with droplets of water running down his chest, you bite your lip, breathing quickened.

"What did I do to deserve this, hm?" He whispers, eyes half lidded and voice low and sleepy. "Eres demasiado buena para mí." (You're too good to me)

He leans closer, his hot breath fanning your face.

You find it hard to gather yourself and focus on what he's saying.

"You've been working so hard lately." your voice drips into an exaggerated praise which he drinks in with the most obvious interest. "Coming home late, barely getting any time to yourself." 

He leans even closer, keen on listening to you.

"You hold it all together so well," you mirror his own past voiced complaints. "You deserve so much more than a vacation."

"¿Ah, sí? ¿Cómo qué?" (Oh, yeah? What do you mean?). He insists smugly, one inch away from tasting your lips.

He wants to hear you say it.

You take his hands from your waist and pull them to slide upwards; he doesn't waste a second before he places them on each side of your breasts, pushing them together softly.

"Anything I can give you." You speak quietly, toying with the superficial knot of his towel. He closes the gap between you, his lips moving against yours with unmatched passion and want, his breathing already hot and laboured. His bare chest rises and falls against yours as he finally pulls away only to get rid of the cloth around his waist, flashing you with the image of his hardening fat cock.

Towering over you, he slowly and carefully pushes you to lie back down on the bed, crawling on top of you.

His mouth latches on to your pulse point, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin, while his warm hands travel up and down your body appreciatively. 

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of his cursory palm caressing your thighs, the curve of your hips, up to the soft mound of your tit, all the while his lips remain on your neck.

"Miguel-!" You moan mindlessly, and his cock twitches on your thigh, hard and heavy.

Suddenly, his hands grip your waist firmly and he flips you over so that you're on top of him. 

You brace yourself on your elbows on either side of his head, arching your back. He plants a wet kiss on the tops of your breasts, still concealed by the red bow, as one of his hands moves to deliver a slap to your ass.

The hot palm maps your body like a vice, you feel as if the skin will burn and sting once his touch departs from you. He shifts and presses his lips to yours, indulgent and tender. It’s different, not nearly as greedy as before, it’s more intimate, as if you’re trading parts of your souls to each other, never to return them nor want to do so. You arch against him, crushing your chest onto his.

The second you part from him with a gasp, blissed out with the taste of him still on your lips, you shiver at the sight of his half lidded eyes, dark cocoa alight with the crimson tide you know so well, full of need and desperation.

His hands come up to your front, pulling the tie loose with a dumbfounded, sleepy smirk.

Your breasts bounce free from the blood-red ribbon. His broad hands slide to your back, pulling you into him as he takes one tit in his mouth, sucking and kissing, groaning with every breath he stops to take. You feel each sound he lets out, vibrating deep in his chest.

Breathing shallow and quickened, you let your pelvis lower until the girth of his hard cock brushes against the silky fabric of your thong. 

His hips buck into you reflexively, eliciting a soft whimper out of you. 

Detaching from the tender flesh of your breasts, he pulls you down to taste your lips once more, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with the way he swallows every whisper of his name that rivers into the kiss.

Unbeknownst to you, he hooks his fingers around the elastic straps around your ass and thighs, pulling on the strings only to release them, making them whip your skin with a loud smack.

You arch your back further into him, grinding into his erection in the process. He grunts abruptly, no longer able to hold back.

With expert ease, he drags at the straps holding your panties, ripping them at the joints. Before you can yelp and protest, he pushes the mushroom head of his already leaking cock into your folds.

You clench at the contact, anchoring your hands on his stout shoulders as you sink onto his dick. He watches your greedy cunt swallow him, inch by inch, until he bottoms out, his pubes brushing right against your clit.

You start rolling your hips, feeling his whole dick slip out half way only to push back in against your guts, grazing every mind-numbing nerve in its wake. You’re utterly delirious, and so is he.

His vision targets your breasts, softly swaying in his face with every mount of your body on his. He stills you momentarily, his massive arms sheathing you in a spine-tingling hold. 

Muffled, pleased hums resonate in his chest, echoing against yours as he squeezes you into him, your tits pressed flush right above his collar. You let a moan crawl out of your throat as he plants rushed, desperate pecks on every spot he can lay his mouth on; your neck, your shoulders, the tops of your breasts. 

The heat of his profound exhales washes over your skin, kindle to a fire. Heedlessly, you arch your back into his hold, pushing yourself into him, your body marinated into his arms the way he loves so much. He thinks he might come right then and there, no friction, no nothing. Just the feeling of you, soft and tender, mollifying further into his possessive touch with every kiss he places on you.

But soon the need for more friction gets the better of him as he starts thrusting into you from below.

You let yourself fall into his forceful arms as he drives his cock in and out of your weeping cunt, face contorting into pure pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and fucked-out eyes squinting.

The bed squeaks under his weight, the bedframe hitting the wall with ever violent push of his cock into you. You feel his abdomen flex against your stomach, his biceps pulling you impossibly close against his feverish skin.

Burying his head in the crook of your neck, his pants turn into moans as his thrusts lose rhythm and strength. It's the hottest thing that's ever reached your ears, and you moan in tandem with him as you reach your climax. 

When he doesn't stop, your whole body starts burning, a blinding firework scattering on the sky. 

Pushing hard into you, as deep as he can be, with a pained, breathless groan, he comes inside your still fluttering pussy. His cock pulsates into you, staining your insides white, the feeling of his warm seed short circuiting you in an aftershock. 

Both of your heads nestled into each other, feverish bodies moulded together in a suffocating embrace, his lips start ghosting over your neck, a silent praise for taking him so good.

"You should wear this more often, mi vida." he breathes into your mouth.

"I would, if you hadn't ripped it." You tease back, evidently turned on by his antics.

"No te preocupes. (Don't worry.) I'll buy you more."

a/n: yes im obviously in love with the vacation with miguel trope, hope you like this<33 it turned out longer than expected

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Star Platinum Stalking (He Means Well!)

Stands are manifestations of the user’s desires right?  Haha I feel like Star would be much more forward than Jotaro, only because he knows no shame.

I’m writing with Part 3 Joot in mind

Stalker Star Platinum and Jotaro x reader 

There it is again.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement, you see it... or him?  A large purple-skinned man.  He disappears every time you so much as blink, but you figured out recently that if you pretend like you don't see it and don't directly look in its direction it will stay.  The first time you saw it, you thought you were going crazy.  The second time too.  And the third.  The fourth time you spotted a flash of purple you were forced out of denial.  The feeling of eyes on you gets more and more oppressive every day.  There’s faint chill shuddering down your spine, but something else accompanies it, a sense of familiarity.  It's been a week, and you finally decide to voice your concerns so at least someone knows something when you inexplicably get kidnapped.  On the way home from school, you bring up the topic.

"Hey Jojo?  I think I have a stalker…" Jotaro adjusts his hat, and spares you his signature stoic look.

Jotaro’s mind is racing.  He feels like he's back on the trip to Egypt, paranoia taking over.  Anyone and everyone is a threat and possible stand user.  How could he be so foolish to think that he was safe after he killed Dio?  Who is it?  Who found out?  He was so careful to hide his feelings.  Jotaro Kujo doesn't need love.  Jotaro Kujo doesn't need a weakness like that.  Women are annoying bitches that's all.  Every last one of them.  But he looks at your bright eyes and finds his heart clenching.  Squashing the feeling, he vows to catch whoever is stalking you.  At the very least, he will protect you.  If he can't give you love, he'll make sure you’re safe.  

"I'll keep you safe."  And that’s the end of it.  You wonder if Jotaro just wants to shut you up so you stall a bit out of nervousness before speaking up again.  

"I know this sounds crazy… but I keep seeing a large purple man out of the corner of my eye"

Of everything he was preparing himself for, this came out of left field.  

"Jojo?" You look back at your friend, who has come to a full stop.  

"Yare yare." he pulls the brim of his hat lower and pulls out a cigarette.  The pieces have come together.  After all, the saying that stands are a manifestation of the user's desires aren’t based off nothing.

"I'll take care of it."

[taesanrot]

[moved on] fwb!taesan x f!reader | 0.7k words shorter drabble inspired by the song moved on by laundry day!

my heart is saying things my mind just cannot speak ... i don't know what is wrong with me

taesan was an avoidant. he was good at ignoring things, pushing away the elephant in the room and pretending he doesn't care, that it couldn't bother him any less. he was good at ignoring the way your glances at him grew longer and fonder. he was even better at ignoring the way your doe eyes and soft hair made his heart race and stomach turn.

i'm clinging onto you just like i cannot breathe ... i don't know what is wrong with me

he knew it hurt you and he hated himself for it. you two had agreed to keep things between the two of you casual, seeking comfort in each others' touch in the late hours of the weekend and barely speaking the days in between. at the time it started, taesan's fleeting presence filled you up, bringing you out of the emotional trenches school had sent you into.

maybе I'm the problem saying this is alright ... am i coming on too strong?

that was your first mistake -- you should've known you were setting yourself up for failure right then and there. letting the raven haired boy light up your day with a simple stroke of his hand against your cheek; your heart never stood a chance against the curse of time.

please make sure you call, just to say it's alright ... am i waking you all night?

as the days passed, it was taesan who became the reason you ached on late nights. staring at your still unread message, you wondered why things were like this. the boy's actions twisted your mind in ways he'd never know. at times like this your mind flashed back to the way he was after the sun had set, when it was just the two of you in your own world.

we get together but things might just be better if we moved on

the way his warm lips felt against your neck, the way his fingers burned into your skin, it was all imprinted on your mind. the moments you two shared felt so intimate, and they replayed in your mind over and over like a broken record.

turning around under your heavy blanket for the tenth time that night, you screwed your eyes shut as more and more memories invaded your mind and dreams.

the two of you had been watching a movie, your head laying on his chest and his hand rubbing your shoulder softly. eyes trained on your laptop, you almost missed taesan’s face in your peripheral vision, peeking over at you. he had a habit of doing this — you always assumed he was simply checking if you were awake. you always stayed silent, just smiling and blinking delicately at him.

“i’m awake, san” you don’t know what made you blurt out defensively, but taesan shook his head softly at your words.

“i know, i was just looking at you.” your stomach still turns at the thought of the smile he was adorning as those words fell from his pretty lips.

his fond smile only looked wicked to you now, his words singing your skin and burning your resolve. how could he say all of that without feeling a single thing? you thought to yourself bitterly.

am i giving you up? ... changing seasons, can't believe it now i'm leaving you

sometimes taesan too thought he was insane. it stung to think about the sweet things he'd said or done to you -- it scared him how he meant it all completely. the boy didn't know what was wrong with him, why he couldn't just let the two of you be happy and togehter. he felt like a speed bump in the road, stubbornly and selfishly guarding his heart at the expense of your fragile mind.

hindsight is 20/20, and sitting alone in his cold and you-less bed, taesan knows what he should've done and said to you, what was staring him in the face this whole time. he was utterly in love with you and he didn't even realize.

bitterly, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and reads over your last text to him again.

[2:47 a.m]

y/n: i can't keep doing this anymore. i'm sorry, let's stop seeing each other.

you have been blocked by this number!

[whereireid]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 — masterlist

pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader

Summary: Patrick gives up control for one night. It doesn’t exactly go the way that you want it to.

— warnings: nsfw content, sub!patrick but he still has psychological control ofc, blowjobs, teasing, restraints, choking

"Are you trying to get me to beg?" Patrick asks, his brows knitting together as he watches your naked frame kneel before him, an uncomfortable throb shooting to the tent in his briefs as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. "Because if that's what you're doing, then I can assure you that I'm not going to plead to get you to touch me."

A soft coo slips past your lips as you stroke your fingers up Patrick's thigh, the muscle tensing involuntarily as your digits teasingly edge closer to the place where he wants you to touch him the most. You can tell that he's frustrated by the ticking of his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, and you shoot him a loving smile as he glares down at you.

"You know how much I want you to beg," you murmur, your eyes glinting with mischief as you cup Patrick's hard cock through his briefs, a low groan drawing from the depth of his throat as you do so. "Please, Patrick? I want to hear how badly you want me."

"I'm not going to beg you to touch me.” His voice is emotionless, yet his throat grows dry when he watches your tongue comes out again, this time not to wet your lips but to lick at the outline of his cock through his briefs. "I'll get what I want eventually.” He tenses as you leave a wet stripe up his briefs, before he mockingly adds, “honey.”

You pout, your fingers careful as they slip under the band of his briefs, tugging at the Italian-made cotton softly. "At least pretend like I'm the one in control here," you huff, your hand curling around his cock, your lips quirking upwards as his pink tip leaks with precum. "Humour me a little, Patrick. Beg. Please?”

Patrick tries to ignore how comedic this situation actually is. He's the one tied up right now — his wrists are bound together with rope and he's tethered to the headboard, but somehow, he has all of the control. You're literally begging him to plead with you. If he was in your position and you were denying him of such sweetness, he'd bring out one of his knives and then you'd start blubbering and pleading like it's nobody's business.

He decides to humour you.

"Please suck my cock, honey. I need it so bad. I need it more than anything," he says flatly, the tip of his cock twitching against your cupid's bow as you beam up at him, "you have no idea what you do to me."

Surprisingly, it doesn't work.

"Don't mock me, Patrick. You're a little bit frustrated. I can see how tense you are." A low groan draws from his throat as you lick a delicate stripe up his length, careful to trace along his veins, your tongue sweetly swirling around his swollen head when you reach his tip. "If you don't comply with my orders, you're not getting what you want."

"Just put it in your mouth."

"I'll put it in my mouth when you ask me properly."

There it is — the tick in his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, the intense, downcast gaze. You're pushing his boundaries, and you grin as he huffs, your lips carefully pressing gentle kisses against his length.

Your movements are incredibly gentle as you cup his balls in the palm of your hand, your tongue flicking out to toy with the needy head of his cock. His eyes crinkle shut and his nose scrunches as you lick a slow, deliberate stripe from the head of his cock down to his balls, your tongue flattening against his length as you bring your skilful muscle back up to his tip.

It's torture. Delicious torture. His nostrils flare when you pull away, a lewd string of spit trailing from his cock to your lips. You look up at him through lidded eyes, and your heart races in your chest as you see how black and blown his pupils are, his hazel irises sheathed from the dilation of his lust.

Pride resides in the depth of Patrick's chest. He didn't think you actual had it in you to tease him, but as you pepper sultry kisses to his cock, he realises that he's actually beginning to lose patience. His hips thrust against your face involuntarily, and an embarrassing whine catches in his throat as you tease him.

"I won't ask again," he says, and there's an edge to his tone that has your heart wrenching and fear prickling at your skin, "put it in your mouth. Please."

You smile.

It's the closest you're ever going to get to Patrick pleading with you. This small act of submission is enough — his bound wrists were his idea, not yours, meaning he was still in control even when he was complying with your demands to be domineering for once.

"Only because you asked so nicely," you tease, flinching under his warning gaze, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock carefully.

Your mouth is so warm and so wet, and Patrick's jaw clenches so hard that he wonders how he hasn't broken a tooth in the process. You feel so good as you roll your head up and down his cock lazily, your tongue trailing around his length as you force your head down, your nose pressing against his crotch as you take every inch of his cock inside of your mouth.

You gag. It's like heaven — the constriction of your throat tightens the grip your mouth has on his cock, and the warm, familiar feeling of arousal pools in your belly as Patrick hisses from above you, the muscles of his thighs flexing underneath your touch. There's something so intimate about how he's giving himself to you, how he's allowing you to have control, and you flush under his heavy gaze as you choke around his length, still not quite used to the uncomfortable girth of his cock.

"I'm glad that I made you bind me to the bed with these ropes," Patrick breathes from above you, his eyes starry as your tongue flicks over his tip, rolling over his slit carefully. "I want to hurt you so badly. If I wasn't restrained I think I'd ruin you completely."

The twitching head of his cock is a good enough signal that he's close. He grunts from above you, and it feels like he's been punched as his eyes lock onto yours, your mouth set upwards into a smile, your mouth glistening with salvia and precum.

Patrick's eyelids flutter shut, and you giggle as he groans again — usually he's not so vocal — using his moans as means of encouragement, forcing your head down, taking in all of his length, until you can no longer breathe breathe.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your lungs are burning by the time that he cums. You struggle against him, squeezing your eyes shut, taking in every inch of him, your tongue lewdly lapping at his balls in an attempt to shock him through his orgasm.

And it works. Patrick is so tense that you can feel every single indentation of muscle, and your fingers dart over his chiselled abs, your cunt pulsing with need as he spews incoherent insults from above you.

By the time your breathing has steadied and you've finished swallowing, Patrick is no longer tense. He's no longer twitching, but his cock is still hard and heavy, a small bead of cum dribbling down his length as he gazes at you such fire you feel like you're being set alight.

"Untie me," he says, his voice dripping with authority and warning, “now."

"Yes, Patrick." You scramble towards him, quick to loosen the knots in the rope, your heart thrashing wildly in your chest.

You realise that the only reason you were in control then is because Patrick let you be. Once the knots are untied, his hands scatter towards your throat, and your eyes are wide and frantic as he presses down on your trachea, cutting off your air supply, making you feel dumb and incredibly horny.

His eyes blaze wildly as he gazes down at you, and he smirks, his pearly white teeth glistening in the florescent lights of his bedrooms as he promises, "you're in for a long night, honey."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

stay. l Joel Miller

Summary: he became empty again

Warnings:  a lot of sadness, practically nothing happens, he is just left alone (tw: panic attack)

A/N: your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

For a few weeks, his house was strangely quiet and empty. No conversations, no laughter, no everyday noises. Joel found himself listening constantly, as if at any moment the porch or stairs could creak under your footsteps.

Ellie had also become quieter, more distant. He could still picture the look on her face, a mixture of confusion and anger, when she found out you wouldn't be living with them anymore.

"Do something, dude!" she hissed, looking at Joel and clenching her fists. "You can't just let her go... Fuck!"

Something she knew and trusted suddenly fell apart. And even though she saw you in Jackson, even though you talked almost every day, Joel could see how much she missed you. And he was to blame for that.

He saw you too. Your eyes met and sometimes he had the impression that you would smile at him, that he would soon have you right next to him. Nothing of the sort happened. And he was to blame for that. 

He didn't expect this again, but could it ever be any different... 

The house was empty and quiet, again. Like every day. His body still warm from his morning shower, he combed his wet hair. He wanted to make himself a coffee, put the kettle on and felt it again.

His heart started racing, pumping blood so fast he could hear it pounding in his ears. His hands gripped the door frame, so hard his knuckles turned white. It helped him not to fall to the wooden floor.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut. Helplessness, no control over what was happening to him. It was terrifying. Uneven and shallow breathing. He felt like water was flooding him, seeping into his lungs, ears and nose.

That's when he felt it. Something touched his face. Warm and gentle hands.

"I'm here, it's okay."

He opened his eyes and saw your worried face. Were you really there?

"Breathe with me. Slowly..." your soothing voice reached him through the fog "In and out..."

"You're here..." he panted, gasping for breath.

"I am. But you have to stay here with me too."

Joel nodded. He took one hand off the doorframe, and you immediately understood and grabbed it. The grip gave him an anchor, he had to feel you.

You could see that he was trying to breathe with you. You didn't pay attention to the whistling kettle, only Joel mattered.

He took a few deep breaths. "S-sorry..."

"Shhh, don't say anything now. Try to focus. Breath..."

Your touch, your scent, your presence. He had no idea how you got there, but you had to be real if he felt all of it. When he opened his eyelids again, you were still there. Your face, eyes looking at him with tenderness and sadness.

You didn't have to, but you stayed. For him.

You didn't let go of his hand even when his breathing was calmer and regular, you stayed until the very end. Despite everything, you were there for him.

When it was over Joel felt like he hadn't slept in a week, his body felt heavy and numb. The whistling of the kettle stopped and he realized it was you who turned it off.

"I came to bring something for Ellie." You said quietly, looking at Joel. "I guess I did the right thing not to knock."

"Thank you." His voice was quiet and hoarse.

"Come on, I'll put you to bed."

You helped him up the stairs and led him to his bedroom. When he sat down on the bed you took off his shoes and helped him lie down, then took a blanket from the armchair to cover him.

A familiar hand grabbed your wrist.

"Will you stay with me?"

You could have left. You could have told him to fuck off and slammed the door. You could have done many things, but you did what you felt. What Joel needed.

You laid down next to him, and he awkwardly put his head on your chest. The strong arms wrapped around you and he clung to you like a castaway to a raft that was his only salvation.

He didn't say anything more. His eyelids closed on their own and he fell into a deep sleep, hearing your heartbeat.

It was a strange feeling to wake up in his arms. Joel clung tightly to your back, his strong arms wrapped around your body. It felt good, safe, but at the same time it tore your heart apart.

He didn't want to give you what you needed, what you wanted. You tried to remember when you felt something more for this man, but you couldn't find the exact moment. Everything happened naturally. Your relationships and gestures, you were learning about each other.

You remembered exactly how tense Joel's body was when you hugged him for the first time. He was no longer used to such gestures, he had almost forgotten what it was like to hold someone in his arms. But it awakened all the needs in him that he had so carefully buried under the surface of his roughness, indifference and rudeness.

You didn't want to change him, but you knew that he had to be different once. And then, one night when you were sleeping in some abandoned building, and in a moment of breakdown you started to sob, so quietly so as not to wake either of them, you felt Joel hug you. And that's how it stayed with the two of you.

When you woke up, the room was plunged into semi-darkness. For a while you stared at some point in front of you, but when you moved you heard his voice.

"Stay, please."

God! You wanted it so much that it twisted your insides.

"I can't, Joel. You know that."

He reluctantly let go of you when you slipped out and sat up. Maybe you shouldn't have stayed? Maybe you should have left sooner?

"I miss you. Ellie misses you too." Joel spoke quietly, you barely heard him.

"I'll talk to her."

He noticed that you didn't mention anything about him. Okay, he deserved it. You put on your shoes and got out of bed. The watchful eyes didn't leave you for even a second.

"You can come back here. I won't get in your way. We won't go on patrol together." He sat down on the bed and stared at you with a pleading look.

You smiled sadly and shook your head. "I can't, Joel. I can't pretend that I don't feel all this... I care about you and Ellie, and I always will, but I can't pretend that you mean nothing to me. This is the best for us, believe me. Maybe it will be easier for you too..."

You were wrong.

With each passing day, Joel felt as if he was going numb. And when you left and he heard the door slam, he hated himself again for letting this happen.

He was left alone, with the remnants of your scent on the pillow and the fading warmth of your body in the sheets.

[verstappentime]

happy end of the season, y'all. here's charles & max post-abu dhabi. charles is sad, but max is there. <3 (tiniest bit nsfw)

"Babe?" Max knocks on the door. The shower isn't even on. "Charles, we're late. Are you alright?"

"One second," Charles calls back. He sounds hoarse.

Max gives him a minute. Takes a lap around the room. Checks his phone three times. "Do you want me to maybe get your clothes? You can tell me what you would like and I'll bring it and you can get ready." Charles doesn't say anything. "Okay. I'm gonna come in, okay? You have to say right now if you don't want me to." Nothing again. Max pushes the door open.

Charles is sitting on the closed toilet seat, wearing a robe from the hotel. His face is wet.

Max heard what he told the press. It hurts so much. It just hurts so much. It looks like it does, now.

"Baby," he says. "Hey."

Charles laughs, wet and broken. "Sorry," he says.

Max lowers himself to the floor, sitting on the cold tile with his legs crossed. "It's alright." He holds out his hand. Charles takes it, squeezing. "Why are you sitting here?"

Charles shrugs silently. He's still crying, Max thinks.

"Okay," Max says. "We will sit here then. You don't want to talk?"

"No," Charles says. But he hangs on to Max's hand, and then he talks anyway. "I feel very stupid."

"It's okay that you wanted it. It's okay if it hurts that you didn't get it."

Charles nods. "I wanted it," he says, barely there. He squeezes Max's hand tighter. He looks so, so sad. Max knows him well enough to know he'll heal quickly. They're going to the FIA gala together. Charles is excited and he's picked out their suits and it will be scary but good, and then they'll have a break to sleep in and be real people. It will be good. But it still hurts right now.

"Do you want me to say my opinion or just sit here?"

"I don't know. Maybe you say your opinion and if I think it's stupid I'll say to shut up." Charles smiles, watery, just a little.

"Okay," Max says, because if it makes Charles smile, he can tell Max to shut up. "I have watched the onboard of your start five times while you sat in here. And it made me very hard."

Charles makes a choking noise. "I thought you were going to talk about the championship."

Max shrugs. "I don't care about this. I care that it made you cry. But you were very amazing, and you should know." He rubs his thumb over Charles's knuckles. "If you were not so sad I would be sucking your cock right now."

Charles squeaks. "Max." He laughs, all snotty and gross but still gorgeous. His cheeks get all red when he cries and his eyes look so green.

"I am not joking." He's not. "I do not like to watch racing at home but I think this is the hottest thing I have ever seen. And you should be proud of yourself. And you should know I'm proud of you. And that you make me hard."

"You're insane," Charles says. Some life is coming back to his eyes.

"I can't give you the championship. And if you want to sit here and cry still I'll just sit with you and we will breathe and it will be alright. It will hurt less soon." Max soothes his hands up Charles's thigh. "But also if you want I can tell you that you were so incredible today and then I can suck your cock about it and we can go to this party. And it will still hurt less soon."

Charles's smile finally spreads to his eyes. "You can't on this floor. It's bad for your knees."

Max grins back, offering Charles his other hand. "Come on then. Help me up."

Charles stands and hoists Max to his feet. He looks small, all tearstained and swallowed up.

Max wraps him in a hug. "It's good that you wanted it," he says. It's the best part of Charles. How much he cares. How much he believes. "I love you. It's okay with me if you're sad."

"I love you, too." Charles clings on, just for a second. When he pulls back, he looks more settled. "I drove better than you today, didn't I?"

[romanticoms]

everything i said i knew, i didn't (come through)

lando norris x fem!reader → tags: wc 2.2k, pure smut, fan(?) x athlete, no use of y/n (thankfully) not proofread, 5am.

author's note: this set us back by like 60 years.. i won't elaborate on why it's so bad. (my excuse is that i only write resident evil fanfics :3)

it's about a week or so into the new season, which has everyone evidently excited, some more so than others, much like you, you could only ever dream of watching the races in real time, it's a given that you're on vacation a little too near to what could be considered a hotspot for drivers alike.

drivers were practically saran wrapped in black coats, heading from the hotel lobby straight up to their respective rooms,

you were just a simple thing, minding your own business, it'd be rude to even try to look for any one of the drivers, that's class a asshole behaviour, as much as you were willing to look for any of them, it's not like it's in your cards to find a driver on their one special night's rest, let alone build up the courage and ask any one of them for their signatures.

to your surprise, word on the street says something about mclaren's drivers promoting a new sponsor of theirs, it won't hurt to snag a picture or two, especially now that there are fans posting about it,

you arrive at the ballroom, not too big not too small, reasonable enough not to squint to look at either one of the two, but you were fairly distanced away from the two, a crowd lies in between you and the two, hell, if someone had to point you out from the crows it'd probably take hours, not for lando though, his eyes had been on you since the moment you'd been there, probably longer? only he knows, but it takes you a questionable amount of time to even realize who exactly he was staring at, you shrug off the possible feeling of the fact that he was actually staring at you, don't get your hopes up, that's what you agreed on since the start anyways.

a little after the event concludes, it's a slip past midnight but you still manage to shower the feeling of heavy crowds pushing you back and forth away, slipping into a racy nightdress, you're reminding yourself to make the best of a holiday, even if it means you have to sacrifice some comfort to look cute (even when nobody's looking), you finish off by tying a near slobbish knot that doesn't have you trying again, still buzzing with the idea that lando's been looking at you, as much as you're willing to deny it for the right reasons, it's true, looking back at the recordings on your phone and it's more apparent that he was taking quick glances at you and the crowd ahead of him, then you, back to the crowd, it's an endless cycle and it has you giggling to yourself, a fucking coincidence

a knock or two hits your door, it's faint but you're aware that it's bed time, room service at this time of the night? they changing your room due to booking fuck ups? you think of the possibilities on the short walk to the door, you peek through the peephole to find lando norris, at your door, smiling somewhat like an idiot.

meeting an f1 driver was certainly not on your "list of things that happened today" bingo card, let alone on the fact that he's here just to see you, it's too surreal it has you nearly weak at the knees.

the door, holy shit. opening the door, butter fingers, it's a generational curse, lando seems much more relaxed after seeing you, poor boy was probably scared he got the wrong room,

you turn to speak but he hushes you, a fucking finger to your lips and it already has you feeling butterflies, given your knees were weaker than gruel, he's had you in a trance, captivated to the point where you take a few steps back from the door until he allows himself in, he shuts the door softly, double— triple checking if they're locked, he turns to you, it's the glint in his eyes that show he owes you an explanation,

"sorry about that," he starts,

"what brings you here?" you ask out of pure concern, it shocks you (and others, probably) that lando would go out of his way for someone like you, it's cute, to a point.

"just needed an escapade," he sits himself on the edge of the bed, it's crazy that you have him here but there's no way in hell he's here for whatever your brain believes.

"well, if you really want to know," he clears his throat before speaking again, "i'm here to see you,"

"me? of all people, me?" you cough up, at this rate you won't stop beating yourself up over nothing, it's valid given the status difference between the two of you.

you're visibly surprised, and it amuses lando, well enough for him to take the first step.

"yes, you," he murmurs, standing as he speaks, his frame slightly overlooks yours, he's like a a shadow that's brighter than you, in any and every way, odd.

"i saw you at the event earlier, you'd be surprised to know how easy it is to play pretend with the concierge." he chuckles, you just stare at him with your arms crossed, like you're babysitting a kid.

"it's still shitty of me, i know, i know," he has both arms slightly up, you're turned to him, now you're sitting on the same bed as him and it smells like bergamot and a pang of tension.

a pang doesn't cut it, you stare deeply into his eyes as he does with yours, it's not long until you're letting out, it's messy, really.

catching onto how many times he's been chuckling in between kisses, it just gets hotter and hotter, he really is the sun much like they claim.

his arm is around your waist drawing you in closer to him, his free hand tangled in your hair, gently caressing your cheekbones.

he deepens the kiss, savoring the warm heat of your body against his. his hands move slowly down your back as he pulls you towards him, it's nearly dramatic, the way you two hit heavy on the bedframe while simultaneously continuing, like animals, it's evident from the pale moonlight watching over the two of you, he's ferocious, grasping onto either sides of your waist and down, bruising them evenly, he whines and bites his lip the moment you pull back, just briefly before he has you on your back, you feel the mattress dip as he gets closer to you, crooning in your neck, he whispers, "jesus, feels so fucking good,"

barely a minute, no, two minutes? three? you lost count, your mind is drifting elsewhere, questioning how lando could keep track of the time, (it's his job to do so, obviously) but his kisses just keep pulling you back to the situation at hand, he'll deal with the rest later, he's desperate to peel the layers of clothes stringing you two apart.

"come on, can't wait—" he mutters to himself, desperately undoing the final strap of your silk before tossing it somewhere to the side, he's careful to not rip a single thread,

if it weren't for anyone or anything suspecting your unexpected visitor this late at night, he'd make it his goal to get you to scream his name, he'll settle for what he can get now, the rest will come eventually.

"there, there, sweetheart," he's coaxing you relentlessly, you're at ease, "where do you want me?" he looks up at you, you say nothing, slowly snatching his wrist to feel his calloused palm feel your stomach, he's knee deep in this, you're just made that way, made for him, "fuck, that's hot," lando hisses by your ear as he positions himself to box your frame.

"want me to be gentle, sweetheart? or rough, it's your call," he murmurs sweetly before softly nibbling at the lobe of your ear, peppering kisses from ear to neck, "rough," you choke out, "didn't hear you, sweetheart," he's teasing you and it feels worse than having pins and needles, "rough, please," you're crying out and he's heartlessly teasing you, barely met the guy and you know he's gonna make up for it, "atta girl," it's like you were sculpted for him, mind, voice and body.

he brings the incessant teasing to a mere halt when he motions you to get on top of him, feeling your cold but sweat glazed back pitted against his abs, feeling his cock swell against you, in heat of the moment, you mindlessly respond to him without even realising it, swirling your tongue on his middle and ring fingers, coating through and through before bringing it down to your aching pussy, his digits pressed up on your clit, he's really, really slow with his movements but you're not fighting it, you're not fighting for a quick stimulation, given the situation, the pace and timing are suited to your mind's liking, not like when you'd desperately stuff your fingers in your pussy to take your mind off the edge, you were sloppy n' straightforward with it, but lando, lando's a whole other topic that needs to be studied,

"this good for you, sweetheart? i can go a whole new mile for you if you need me to, just give me the word, i'll be more than happy to provide," he's whispering in your ear and it's making your stomach turn, unable to think and come up with anything, you come, cum all over his hands, all over nearly nothing, guilt washes you, barely pleased him and you're already selfishly doing this, lando's not even questioning a thing, he smirks against your shoulder and you feel it, he's silent but he doesn't even think twice before he continues, "good girl, such a good girl," he's consistently praising you, still at the same pace, maybe a little faster, you wouldn't know because of how it'd felt in the moment, lightheaded but in a good way, indefinitely, cloud nine? better than that, then you're hit with a second orgasm, this time your legs trash and you nearly give in before he stops briefly, you're gasping for air but you're desperate to finish, "no, please, don't stop," you pant in frustration, "hey, i'm not going anywhere," he's nonchalant about it, treating your desperation with utmost attention, he's careful with you, switching positions, he's up and facing you on the bed, slowly going over your waistline, then, he lines the throbbing red heat of his cock with your mound, slowly teasing you, pushing it up and down for a few seconds before slowly bottoming out, you push back in a pang of shock, not even a split second later it feels better than anything you figured he'd promise, locking your fingers with his, slow but rhythmic slaps fill the hollow sound of your once empty room, he dives forth, finds the crook of your neck, slowly sinking his teeth in, this one definitely does it for you, the third orgasm definitely jumps on the scale, feeling it ramp up to a solid twelve, you feel lando pick up the pace, "'m gonna cum, baby, n' it's gonna be all over you, n' you're gonna take it," evident from the grunts you hear in the back of your mind before you're picked back up into reality, he pulls out and you feel empty, yearning just a little more, nothing beats the view of seeing his essence take up certain areas of your belly, he watches as your breathing slowly regulates.

figuring you need a minute or two to cool off, he disappears into the bathroom without saying a word, you hear the water run and hit the cold floor, then you start to see steam fog up the mirror from the door, conveniently angled to the bed, lando pops back out to pick you up, bridal style at that, he's admiring every feature painted on your face, even the waterproof mascara he's managed to ruin, kicking the door shut with the back of his foot, he sets you in the bath tub where you're immediately soothed by it's warm embrace.

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

clarisse la rue x reader where the reader and clarisse are bsfs and reader is being bullied by a couple of aphrodite girls, and clarisse find out and flips out then clarisse confesses :))) i love your writing!!

THATS MY BEST FRIEND....RIGHT? . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: clarisse la rue x iris!fem!reader

warnings: swearing, violence (mentions of physical assault - clarisse calling the girls out), teenagers being bitches and calling ppl names

a/n: this was soo cute to write omg. this also would've been out sooner but then tumblr shut down before i had the chance to save it 😭

if you walked up to any camper and asked them which two campers were best friends every single on of them would go clarisse and y/n.

it was like a second nature to them by now.

clarisse a daughter of ares and y/n a daughter of iris. not the most likely duo, but you fit. you clicked in a way you hadn't with anyone else.

you were the only person who could talk clarisse down when she was worked up. and she was the only person who could break through to you when you were lost in your world of paints and colors.

you had first met clarisse your third week at camp. you were sitting in the stands watching campers spar - well watching was a stretch, you were actually painting - and clarisse had finished up with the camper she was fighting. she had walked up the stands and plopped straight down next to you with a huge grin on her face. it had been almost irresistible to not look back up at her with a matching smile.

that was the first time someone had ever managed to pull you away from your paintings. it wasn't the last.

from then on you and clarisse had practically been inseparable. you were the camp's unofficial official bsf's.

clarisse.

your mind often drifts to clarisse when you paint. her soft skin, curly luscious hair, and adorable smile. they constantly popped into your mind - it was hard not to paint something clarisse related honestly.

"hey you." a presence drops beside you on the grass.

"hi," you offer softly, looking up from your painting which surprise surprise was a painting of clarisse.

"ooh i like this one," she says pointing at the now dry canvas - how long were you staring at it?? "it really brings out my eyes."

you dip your head blushing. "uh thanks."

"hey," clarisse says tilting your head up. "don't be embarrassed. i love it. its one hundred percent going with my collection." her gentle touch sends tingles through your skin and causes you to blush even more.

she grins and picks up the painting, "im gonna put it with the others in my cabin, i'll be right back." clarisse picks the painting up not even listening to your protests of how its technically not finished and races off to her cabin.

you sit the and pull out another canvas, determined to not paint clarisse twice in one morning, its happened before.

"look at the ugly ass painter and her little canvas," a sneer comes from in front of you. you don't hear them already lost in your world of paints.

"what shit painting are you doing now?"

you still don't hear them. the only way you could notice their presence was the shadow above you - but again you're still wrapped in a world of colors merging and dancing over the canvas.

you're painting a bouquet of wildflowers. the colors blending perfectly together. you're immensely happy with they ways its turning out but then voices start to break through your haze.

"hey bitch? are you ignoring me?"

"art slut? did you hear me? that's the ugliest thing ever and i'm not talking about the painting."

a hand whips across your face and someone rips you away from the painting. "you in there art bitch?" you finally notice the four aphrodite girls standing in front of your.

the same four girls have been terrorising you for months. and they're careful, never coming up to you whenever clarisse is around. right now? perfect example.

two hands grip you arms to keep you back and the main girl, ellie, steps forward picking up your painting and a handful of dirt.

"NO!" you shriek lurching forward.

"what you don't like my improvements? i made it match. the dirt is the same color of this shit." she looks at you with malice. "and for the final touch," she stabs a nearby stick straight through ripping the painting to shreds.

tears are springing to you eyes.

your painting. YOUR PAINTING.

"aww are you crying?" ellie smirks and then steps forward picking your paints up and pouring them straight onto you. she steps forward and smears it across you writing slut and bitch across your front. you try and squirm as the second girl steps forward with handfuls of dirt and sprinkles it over you.

tears are freely streaming down your face now and you slump, the fight leaving you quickly.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" a loud voice booms behind you all.

the four girls freeze, letting you go.

you fall forwards a sob escaping your mouth at the sight of your painting.

your painting.

"what the ever loving hell are you doing?" clarisse's voice is deadly calm and she stalks towards y/n collapsed on the ground.

the aphrodite girls all step back from you and clarisse takes a single step forward. "we weren't doing anything!" the two who were holding you say panicked.

"no you were doing something," clarisse stalks closer the girls back pedalling in fear. "you were holding my best friend back while those two bitches assaulted her."

"we weren't assaulting her!" the girl beside ellie shrieks. "it was just a joke!"

"you one hundred were assaulting her." clarisse points to you. "does this look like someone who thinks its a joke?"

"well if she wasn't such a bitch and listened to me the first time i talked we wouldn't have had to," ellie seethes.

clarisse snaps.

she practically flies on top of the girls - and yes girls, plural. clarisse crash tackles ellie and the other girl to the ground sending punches to their faces. "motherfucking bitches," she spits and she yanks on a handful of hair.

shrieks and cries come from the girls causing campers to come over and watch the scene unfold. now look, you're not exactly an extremely popular camper, but everyone knows you and likes you, your sweet to nearly everybody you meet so when they see you on the ground covered in paint and dirt, their surprised looks turn into egging clarisse on to get a better hit. some other ares kids join in happy to put some bitchy aphrodites back in their place.

your siblings gasp in unison when they see you helping you off the ground and picking up the strewn paint bottles and shredded painting sending death glares that hades would be proud of.

"why is this such a big deal?" ellie laughs from beneath clarisse. "you act like you're in love with her."

"of course i am!" clarisse all but roars sending more punches into her. only stopping when several of her siblings hauled her off ellie because chiron and mr d had shown up.

they both - well chiron - looked at you with sympathetic eyes telling your siblings to help you get cleaned up and to lay down for a while.

you didn't hear them. you didn't hear anything but clarisse's voice.

you act like you're in love with her.

of course i am.

of course i am.

of course i am.

you couldn't think of anything else as you showered, washing away the paint, dirt and tears. you didn't think of anything else when your siblings guided you back into your cabin and into bed. you didn't think of anything else as you fell asleep.

you didn't think of anything else until you felt the mattress dip next to you, a warm hand stroking your forehead, stirring you from your sleep.

"hey you," clarisse smiles down at you.

"hi," you whisper.

"today's been shit huh?" she looks down at you with concern.

"yeah..."

"how are you feeling?"

"better," you smile gently, it fades when you work up the nerve to say. "hey about earlier-"

"i'm sorry for flipping out," clarisse says. "its just that she was saying all that shit about you, and i hated it, you looked so broken and small on the ground and i, just snapped, im so sorry, really, i am. i shouldn't have done that without checking on you first but i knew if i did that, that bitch was going to get away with it. im so so sorry, y/n. please forg-" you cut her off in a moment of boldness sitting up and placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

clarisse sits there stunned, her mouth slightly gapes open and you smile at her.

"did you mean it?" you ask hoping she understand you were talking about her earlier 'of course i am' outbreak.

she closes her mouth and nods speaking softly, in a nervous way. "yeah, i meant it."

"good. because i feel the same way."

clarisse lights up at that, a huge grin spreading across her face. "really?"

"really."

you intertwine your hands together grateful then that the cabin was empty - clarisse probably cleared it out when she came to visit. you'd never admit this to her, but quiet a few of your siblings are scared of her.

you grin back at her and pull her face down to connect with yours feeling the colors explode into the world, light dancing around the two of you in a beautiful circle.

maybe today hasn't been too bad after all.

a/n: unedited! this made me giggle and smile wayyyy to much lmao

©strawberries-and-summer-days please do not steal, use or repost my works.