#and then probably remark on how good I am for not being Like That

[storges-oranges]

See, now I've got Leander x Senobium pupil!MC in mind. A full on oneshot on this blog? More like than you'd think!

Leander x reader.

Reader is referred to as MC, e/c = eyecolor,

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️ ; full blown Yandere Leander,DRUGGING, mentions murder, written at 2 am and not proofread.

This is very, very long. Apologies.

In this timeline, you probably know Leander as a flirty but overall good natured fellow. He is very down to earth given his talents, a stark contrast to the snoby culture fostered by the highborn or the otherwise wealthy dwellers of the senibium.

He likes talking to you bc you're an outsider just like him, sorta. You don't fit in with the blue bloods and golden spoons, but he does. While you try to keep a low profile to avoid being harrassed, he is followed around by a group of mages who want to learn from him, or fuck him, or use him to social climb or some combinations of the above. He is handsome and good at handling conversations and rumor says that he supplies a brand of moonshine only he can handle.

He probably ends up orbiting you because you keep to yourself -which is rare- and you seem to be genuinely interested in magics potential to better the world-even more rare. "Lucky!" he tells you one dayon the bench where you usually eat lunch- alone. "That's how I like 'em". You brushed him off then, pretending not to see the faint blush on his cheeks and ears and ignoring the funny feeling in your stomach at the sound of his boyish laugh.

He follows you around after that. Trailing behind you and making idle chatter as you make your way from lab to lab. He tells you about his day to day life, the secret underground parties. The crazy stuff people do while drunk on his weekly concoction. You ask if you can have some once. He tells you that he'd never forgive himself if anything happened to you because of it.

Of course its not like the rest of the world has forgotten about the most talented mage of this generation. You enter the spotlight by virtue of being around him as often. Everyone has something to say about the average-at-best mage who somehow managed to monopolize his attention. He tells you to ignore the mean remarks you two hear walking around.

Someone barks that they could give him a better time. He turns to them tells them he doubts it then bends down toward you and makes a piching sign with index and thumb, snickering.

Someone tells you they could pay you enough to stop pretending to be a mage. He rushes the both of you away, a noticeably tighther grip on your shoulder.

The next time you meet, its in one of the libraries, in the semi-privacy of the space between two book shelves. He's got a broken nose but no other damage is visible. He tells you you should see the other guy. You chastize him and he chukles.

"Worried about me?"

Your immediate answer, the sincerity in your tone, the frown your face, all of it makes him dizzy. He lens down and bumps your foreheads together. You can feel his breath. His warmth.

"Careful now. You might give a guy the wrong idea."

"Maybe its not 'the wrong idea' "

He blinks then. Once. Twice. A smile breaks on his face and he finally, finally kisses you.

You don't see him for a long, long while after that.

In his absence, things went to shit for you. Now, without him to protect you, you've become free game for any asshole who was bored, or had something to prove, or both.

You tried to fight back, as bravely as possible, you really did. But you were outnumbered. The indifference of the administrative clerk as he signed the expulsion notice with a golden pen reminded you of the shallowness of your own pockets.

Pockets which only became lighter after you were told to pay damages for the emotional distress you caused your highborn peers. And "wrongful use of magical powers". And "attempted murder".

Overkill, considering the only things you'd done was cast a spell on one that turned every food into rocks when in contact with their saliva and curse another with being shit on by birds, even indoors. Although that last one might've backfired; you remember a hooded figure near the gates shuffling around awkwardly when the cursed one walked by. Maybe you should revise your spells.

At any rate, you were now homeless and penniless. You thought you could seek shelter and employment with the local doctor as you knew a thing or two about medicinal plants. If he was really taking people in for free, he wouldn't begrudge an additional pair of hands to help. It would be a start. A place to stay at least, until you figured out whatever happened to Leander.

It was as though he transformed into smoke. No one knew of his whereabouts, at least in Hight town, and the people of Lowtown were less than cooperative with a mage from the Senobium. You would only have yourself to rely on to piece this mystery together

I imagine that as you're making you way into lowtown, however, a poster on the wall catches your attention. "Bloodhounds" it says, with a clear image of Leander. Your Leander front and center.

You would take to this "wet wick" (seriously? what kind of name is that???) as fast as possible then wouldn't you?

When you enter, you see him in the middle of a crowd, showing off a trick you remember him practicing in your room. He looks different. There are dark circles under his eyes now, and a scar making its way to his jaw to the appne of hos cheek. The crowd cheers and its a small miracle he spots you, you think.

His eyes widen, and you think you see the twinkle with the same glint as back then. He jumps off the table and the crowd parts for him. That much hasn't changed at least.

"Its... you"

It comes out of him like he didn't mean for it to. Then "Why are you here? You should be..." he stops himself and looks around to the people already absorbed in their drinks. Then turns to you "Lets talk outside".

You think you should say something. But seeing him in the flesh like this, albeit more solumn than you've know him is making you mum.

His hand finds your shoulder.I like to think the ease with which he maneuvers the both you through the crown surprises you both. You because you understand why you're being so cooperative, so pliable. Him, because he didn't think his body remembered a time before, well, everything.

His hand still on your should after you've made your way out. Neither of you questions it.

"Why are you he-"

"Where were you?" you cut him and then raising a hand to his scarred cheek "And what happened ?"

He doesn't react to your touch. At least, not in a way you noticed. There was a time when he couldn't hide a thing from you, long ago.

"Well" he smiles, lets his hand travel from your your shoulder, palm lightly squeezing its way to your forearm, your elbow before resting on the back your hand "Alot happened. Much more than can be discussed in a single evening".

He nuzzles your hand then, caressing the back of it with his gloved thumb.

"Let's give it a try anyways" you say "Let it take as long as necessary."

He looks down at you and the emotions dancing in his eyes are unreadable.

"More than one evening? With little old me?" his small smiles turns into a full blown before he hears you groan. "Careful" he kisses your palm "You might give a guy the wrong idea."

He tells you what he saw in lowtown. The people gathered around the doctor-Kuras he tells you- half dead from a soulless attack. He declares to have lost faith in the Senobium that day and decided to take matters into his own hands.

"With the bloodhounds?"

"With the bloodhounds." He confirms, swirling around a glass with his newest concoction. He refuses to let you have any. At least some things never change, you tell yourself, amused.

"And you? What are you doing so far away from the Senobium?"

You tell him all about your misadventures, the rocks, the bird shit curse. He laughs so hard at your mention of the hooded stranger and almost chokes himself on the olive in his drink.

"Well" he says, once he catches his breath "what are you planning on doing now?"

You look down on your glass of water. Now that you know he alive, more than that, he had a purpose now. You.... not so much.

You didn't see yourself staying together with such a.... spirited?.... bunch. Besides, you'd had enough of Eridia as it was. True the rest of the known work was covered in the shroud but.... who knows? Maybe...

"Eridia to MC! Eridia to MC! MC, are you with us?"

Leander is all up in your space now. Arm around your shoulder, forehead to your temple and his glass, with a neon green liquid still swirling in it. The movement is so hypnothising you almost zone out again, if it weren't for Leander moving it out of your sight.

"No, no. I told you this wasn't for you"

You turn to look at him and without think you blabber something about his eyes and he hums before closing them, which seems to take you out of your stupor.

"How odd"

"What is, love?"

You do your best to ignore the nickname.

"The drink it looked.... Its like it had an effect on me. And then, with your eyes...."

You yelp when he kisses your temple, mumbling a "smart" under his breath. He looks at you with something not too different from pride.

"You're right. Its a little booster. Makes negotiations with the leaders of rival groups easier."

A chill runs down your spine. You're suddenly jkeenly aware of his arm trapping you against him. But...of course there would be some underhanded tactics. This is the underworld, for crying out loud! But to think that Leander of all people would implement such methods....

He senses your apprehension.

"Believe me" he says "this is far better than the alternative."

"Which is?"

"A bloodbath" he downs the rest of his drink in one go. "Too many people get caught in the crossfire of territorial disputes"

He brings you closer to him with the arm circling you and points to a man sitting at a table, fiddling with a wooden toy.

"That's kai" Leander continues "He lost his wife and daughter in one of those disputes. He used to work as a carpenter. Real upstanding guy. Would make toys for every kid who asked. Now he just comes here, gets black out drunk, waits to see if we're planning a raid on the bastards responsible for his grief, and leaves"

Kai looks at the both of you and nods, though likely directed at Leander, and goes back to the comically small toy in his hands.

"Tragedies like this can occur at anytime here, MC. I have to do what I can to limit the damage to the community"

You look down, ashamed of having doubted him.

"I suppose you're right.... Sorry."

"Hey now" he smiles "don't be like that. Lets leave the depressing stuff behind. You haven't told what you're planning to do now that the world is your oyster"

You smile back, thankful for the subject change.

"Well, now that the world really is my oyster, i was thinking i could see more of it."

You can feel him tense up.

"To be clear, when I said "the world", I meant Eridia"

"Well" you chuckle "You should have been more specific"

"Duly noted. I will be next time" he replies. "But just so you know, i doubt there is much out there but fogfall."

You shrug and opt to play with your own, now empty, glass of water" Who knows? Maybe there are secrets waiting to be discovered not too far from here even."

Something flashes on his face when you look to him and for a second, he looked like a stranger again. But the moment is gone before you can think it further.

"Well, you can stay here for as long as you need to. On me, of course" he takes your empty glass in your hands and asks the waiter to fill it up again.

"What? No! I couldn't ask that of you"

"No need to be shy" the waither chimes in, glass of water in hand "No one here would let the boss's partner sleep out on the street"

You want to deny the implication that you two are together. It wasn't something you discussed back then even after your private moment in the library since he disappeared. And now that you were thinking of leaving....

The cold glass against your fingertips brings you back to earth again.

"See?" Leander says. "No problem"

"Besides" the waiter replies " I'm sure the boss will pay wonderfully for his partners comfort"

"Oh come on!" Leander cries "Can't you do a friend a favor? My blood hounds and I bring much needed traffic to this place!"

The waiter is already making a round of other drinks when he affirms that the price of the furniture destroyed each night far outweighs whatever their unbridled consumption brings in.

You spend the rest of evening watching Leander haggle the price down to not-quite-a-premium-suite. And laugh and his dejected face each time he has to break up a fight that threatens to bankrupt him anymore than he, allegedly is already.

As you watch him scold his bloodhounds, you cant help but notice how much respect everyone has for him here. Its seems you needed him more than he did you.

Maybe its your turn to spread your wings.

Which would be easier if one group was willing to take you!

As optimistic as you were, traveling through the dhroug alone would be utter foolishness. Yet no matter how much of your hard earned money you offered, no one would bring you along.

Leander was always there to cheer you up. However, after the 5th refusal you started loosing hope.

"Hey" Leander would say, hand your shoulder, a constant, these days. "I'm sorry it's not going your way just yet. But don't worry you'll always have the wet wick even if you have a change of plans and choose to stay. You'll always have me"

And after the 8th offer got turned down, it really did seem that you would have to rethink your previous plan.

You were a bit ashamed to admit that your first independent endeavor since leaving the Senobium would end so pitifully. Leander managed to throw together a small army of good Samaritans and here you were, somehow struggling, even without habing to pay rent. It's at times like these that the compentence gap between you and Leander became as clear as day. He was a prodigy, you were just good enough by. At least you were, back then.

Maybe it was your nostalgia for a time when the both of you were on a somewhat equal footing that lead you to Hightown. And you would've turned back, unwilling to deal with snobbish sneers, if it weren't for a sign that read :

"WESTERN EXPEDITION: HEALER AND MAGE WANTED, ALL MATERIALS AND SUPPLIES PROVIDED FOR"

Well, if this wasn't your lucky day! You were a mage, but you had a good basis for making heeling potions!

By the time you run toward the Wet Wick to tell Leander, you're out of breath.

"Love? Whats got you excited?"

"LOOK" is all you can say, as you shove the signed contract in his face.

His smile stays on as he reads.

"Congratulations!" He exclaims. "This calls for a celebration doesn't it?" He instructs the waiter to give everyone a free round in your honor, on him of course.

The cheers that fill the room do nothing to help you come down from the high of finally, finally being on the cusp of doing something with yourself.

"Oh Leander I can't believe it!"

".....Me neither. Where'd you meet these guys, never seen them around here" he plops down on the chair beside you, your contract still in hand.

" I know right? I found them while wandering around in Hightown"

Leander hums at that. The waiter brings out his drink and your water as you excitedly tell him about the expedition team and the purpose of the trip.

"Can you imagine if we discover the ruins of Lovent?"

He laughs, tipsy,boyish.

"Then you..." he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and your breath hitches ".... would have your name marked down in history."

"Yeah" you say, dazed yourself from the way he looks at you.

His voice is low when he speaks again. "Want to toast?"

The mention of drinking makes you squeamish.

"It wont be that one of course. And if you don't believe me, you can make a one yourself and have me drink it"

You gawk at the suggestion. "You would let me make one of your pacifying drinks AND drink it?"

"Yup"

"Don't you have any sense of self preservation?"

"Nope"

You take him up on it, mostly because you want to call his bluff. But as he walks you through the steps of his signature drink, you realize, with mounting horror, that this does exactly what he said it would.

"Look at you" he says proudly " Succeeding on your first try"

"I had a good mentor" you reply

"Uh-huh." He nods "No doubts about it. But we have now arrived at the crucial step; the taste test."

You're uneasiness is now a pit in tour stomach so heavy it threatens to collapse on itself.

"Are-are you sure? You really don't have to you know"

"Chickening out so late in the game MC?"

Whatever levity he hoped to bring to this situation is lost on you. Seeing you tesed up form, he takes out his gloves and holds out his hands. You answer by holding them up in yours surprised at how warm they are. You'd forgotten that he tends to run hot, so much so that he could withstand the autumn air with a simple linen shirt. You're memories at your time in the Senobium resurface, making you tear up.

"Hey.... hey don't cry! Its your day!"

But you cannot bring yourself to stop and so op to hide your face in chest instead which he accommodates, as he engulfs you in his warm is comforting embrace.

"I cant believe we will be separated again soon" you whisper.

"Well" he begins, his right hand carressing your back "If I were to say you don't need to, would make you reconsider?"

You sniff before shaking your head, incidentally burrying yourself deeper into his generous chest .

"I need to do this. To prove myself to myself." Then, you look up at him slightly "So that i can stand beside you proudly".

You've seen his eyes grow wide before, but never like this. You hear his laughter better by being so close.

"You keep surprising me" he admits "If this is what this is about, I promise you there's no need. I want you beside me. Its not something you've got to earn"

"I know. But everyone here has earned their place beside. I won't be the exception to that."

He kisses your forehead. "But you're not everyobe else. Not to me"

You feel childish to so stubbornly stick to your guns despite his reassurances but you've already decided the matter and besides, there was no turning back now.

"I see there's no talking you out of it then." comes his response to your silence. "Alright. Then I'll just have bid you farewell and wish safe travels early tomorrow. "

"I leave in a week, Leander!"

"I know, but its not enough time. Will you help me drown my sorrows?"

You reluctantly leave the safety of his bosom to look at your iteration of Leanders "negotiations specifical". You take care to slowly infuse the mixture with magic to avoid overheating it. You stop right as the drink threatens to bubble and spill.

"There" you warily present your e/c glass to his lips, cuping his jaw with your free hand."Careful, it's hot"

"Oh, I know" he winks at you.

You resist the urge to pour the drink on him in retaliation for his lame joke as you tilt the cup towards him.

He greedily gulps it all, without breaking eye contact with you. By the time the glass is empty you feel the heat in your cheeks intensify.

"Thank you, Love." Then after a beat "Though you look a little flushed. Are you alright?"

He's right. There must be too many people at the wet wick tonight, the atmosphere has grown suffocating.

"Yeah... yes." you should make your way to your room now. You had a meeting with the rest of the team. You can't aford to be late because you partied too much.

"I think this is it for me Leander" you tell him, barely managing to keep your voice straight. "I need to lay my head down a bit"

Leander, ever so dependable, offers to help you to your room.

"Thank you Leander." He chuckles "Whatever for?" "Everything, helping me out here, protecting me at the Senobium. I.... I really missed you back then". That seems to touch him somehow as you feel him briefly stopping in his tracks.

He sits you down on your bed and with a strangely pointed look asks; "You did?"

"Of course! I went looking for you everywhere you know? I thought you were dead for a second! You could've sent a message at least!!!!"

The room is spinning, you hold onto Leander for dear life. He seems satisfied with your answer and places one last kiss on your forehead before undoing your shoes for you and tucking you in.

Tomorrow you will be

You wake up the next day feeling oddly hungry. In your haste, you don't bother looking at the clock. As you run down the stairs, you are greeted by Leander, a tray of food in his hands. He must have been on his way to your room.

"Hello there! How are you feeling?"

"Better! But I need to hurry up and get ready. Thank you for the meal by the way. Want to eat with me?"

Upon his enthusiastic approval, the both of you make your way back to your room. Breakfast is spent reminiscing your days at the Senobium.

You're both in such bliss, only interrupted when duty calls Leander.

"I'll see you around then, love. Take care"

You look at your room and figure it is overdue for a bit of tidying up. It shouldn't take much time.

As you clean up your space, you come accross the tools you thought would be useful for the

. You decide to arrange them to avoid misplacing them. What if you need them one day? You would be happy they were in the right place!

Some of them came from your time in the Senobium. You figured they could be more useful for Leander. What with his line of work after all. It's not like you have that much use for them anyway.

Its good to keep your space tidy. This is where you will be for a while after all. Although a bit rundown, the place isn't too bad, especially considering ot basically came free, meals included, and good, if somewhat rowdy, company. What more could you want? Nothing really.

[hysteriasgarden]

*sobbing about how maybe my parents aren't that bad and I'm overdramatic and stupid and should just suck it up because really they didn't do anything terrible*

people online: Horrid Henry's parents are awfully abusive and they're the worst parents in cartoon media, they're bad parents

me:

[b4kuch1n]

one string is all that I need

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | the end of the season '24

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : quiet nights at the hotel after a long race

୨ৎ : genre : some are happy & some are sad ୨ৎ : tws : none ୨ৎ : word count : 2531

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i am so proud of lando for being able to secure that wcc for mclaren, but i am SO sad seeing carlos drive in red for the last time, and seeing lewis have his last drive with mercedes :c

ʚ・max verstappen

the post-race buzz of abu dhabi had faded, leaving a quiet calm in max's hotel suite. he sprawled on the sofa, phone in hand, scrolling through memes with that trademark deadpan expression. p6 wasn't great—definitely not how he wanted to wrap the season—but the world championship trophy on his shelf said it all. he was untouchable, even on an off day.

you dropped onto the couch next to him, giving him a small smile. "not quite the result we were hoping for, huh?"

he tilted his head, barely fazed. "meh. one bad race doesn’t erase a good season." he tossed his phone onto the table, already over it. "at least now i don’t have to hear the word 'tyre degradation' for a while."

"exactly," you agreed, nudging his arm. "just endless beaches, lazy mornings, and maybe some sketchy tourist traps."

he smirked, his eyes lighting up for the first time all evening. "knowing you, that probably means camel racing or some falcon photo op where i end up holding a bird for instagram."

you laughed. "don’t pretend like you wouldn’t secretly enjoy it."

"maybe," he admitted with a faint grin. "but only if there’s good food after. priorities, you know?"

as you leaned into his side, you felt the tension melt away from him. the season was done, the pressure gone. and for once, max verstappen, the reigning world champion, was just a guy on a couch, ready to trade apexes for sunsets and podiums for bad tourist selfies.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

a bittersweet stillness filled the room—p4 after starting sixteenth was nothing short of remarkable, but tonight marked the end of an era. his last race with mercedes. the silver star that had defined his legacy, his dominance, was now in the rearview mirror.

you leaned into him, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. "what a drive, lewis," you murmured, pride laced in your voice. "it was magic out there, just like always."

he smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the city lights beyond the window. "it felt good, you know? pushing through the field like that. it’s how i want to remember this team—fighting, always fighting." his voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it, a depth only you could hear.

"it’s hard to see this chapter end," you said softly, running your fingers along the edge of his hand. "so many years, so much history. but watching you today—watching you fight with every ounce of heart you’ve got—it’s impossible not to feel proud."

he turned to you then, his eyes warm, a quiet fire still flickering in them. "it’s sad, yeah. mercedes is family. but every journey has its end, and every end makes way for something new. it’s time. time for a new challenge."

you smiled, squeezing his hand. "and ferrari red will suit you, no doubt about it."

that earned a laugh from him, light but genuine, his shoulders finally easing. "we’ll see. it’ll be... different. but i’m ready for different. i have to be."

"you’ll thrive," you said, meeting his gaze with steady confidence. "because that’s who you are, lewis. you don’t just race—you redefine what’s possible."

he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "and having you by my side, that makes it all the better."

the evening stretched on as you reminisced about mercedes—about the victories, the struggles, the growth. there was sadness, yes, but also hope, an electric anticipation for the future. ferrari would be a new challenge, but lewis hamilton was built for challenges. and you? you’d be there, through it all, cheering him on as he wrote the next chapter of his already legendary story.

ʚ・george russell

the air in george’s hotel room was thick with emotions. lewis—his teammate, his mentor, his benchmark—was leaving for ferrari. the weight of it sat heavily on his shoulders, a silent pressure he hadn’t quite found the words to unpack.

you settled beside him on the bed, your hand resting lightly on his back. "you drove brilliantly today, george," you said softly, your tone filled with pride.

he gave you a faint smile, though his usual spark was dimmed. "thanks. it’s just... weird, you know? lewis not being here next season. he's been... well, everything. a teammate, a rival, someone to learn from."

"it’s a huge change," you agreed, your voice gentle. "but today, you showed exactly what you’re made of. you didn’t just race—you fought, george. and everyone saw it."

he turned to look at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "but can i really lead this team now? without him?"

you met his gaze firmly, your conviction unwavering. "you don’t have to be lewis, george. you’ve already proven you're your own kind of leader—sharp, determined, and always hungry for more. you don’t need to fill anyone’s shoes because you’re carving out your own legacy."

his shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension giving way to a spark of confidence. "it’s just... lewis set such a high bar. and stepping into that space—it’s a lot."

"you don’t need to step into his space," you reminded him with a reassuring smile. "you’ve earned your own, george. you’ve fought for it, and you’re more than ready to take the reins."

he took a deep breath, the weight on his chest easing as resolve began to take its place. "this is my chance, isn’t it? to really prove myself."

"absolutely," you said, squeezing his hand. "and i’ll be right here, every step of the way, cheering for you."

his smile widened, more genuine this time, and he leaned in to kiss you softly. "thank you, love" he murmured. "that means everything."

as the night stretched on, you stayed by his side, feeling his determination grow stronger with each passing moment. george russell was ready to rise, ready to lead, and ready to show the world exactly why he belonged at the front of the pack. and you couldn’t wait to witness it all.

ʚ・carlos sainz

arlos sank onto the balcony of his hotel suite, the cool night air brushing against his skin, a sharp contrast to the adrenaline and heat of the race. it his last race with ferrari, the team that had become more than a job.

you slipped behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin lightly on him. "carlos," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion, "you were amazing today. truly incredible."

he let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into your embrace, his eyes fixed on the city lights. "yeah, it was a good one. but leaving ferrari? that’s… it’s hard. really hard."

"i know," you murmured, your cheek pressing against his. "you and charles, ferrari… it felt like it fit, like it was meant to be."

he nodded slowly, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "we were a good team, weren’t we? two competitive guys who somehow managed not to kill each other every weekend," he joked, though his voice carried a faint sadness. "but, ah, next season? it’s going to feel strange not seeing his stupid smile in the garage."

you chuckled softly. "but you’ll always have the memories," you reminded him. "and you’ll make new ones, new rivalries, new podiums."

he turned to look at you, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. "do you remember my first race with ferrari?" he asked, a grin breaking through the sadness. "lando was on the podium with me. and now he’s here again for my last one. crazy, no?"

"it’s like the universe has a sense of humor," you said, your smile mirroring his. "full circle moments like that don’t just happen by chance."

he laughed softly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "yeah, maybe. or maybe it’s just one of those little things that reminds me to enjoy the journey."

you held him close, knowing how much leaving ferrari meant to him. the passion, the heart, the pure determination he’d poured into every single lap. but you also knew that carlos was unstoppable—wherever he went, whatever he faced, he would find his way to the top.

"wherever you go, whatever happens," you said, your voice steady and filled with love, "i’ll be right there, cheering you on."

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in tightly. "i know," he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "and that’s what keeps me grounded. thank you, mi amor."

ʚ・charles leclerc

the roar of the abu dhabi crowd had faded, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioning in charles’ hotel room. he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the trophy for his third-place finish. starting p19 after that engine penalty, clawing his way up to the podium—it was an extraordinary drive. but there was a weight in his gaze, a shadow of disappointment.

you sat beside him, your hand finding his. "charles," you said gently, your voice full of admiration, "that was incredible. you were on fire out there."

he offered a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "it wasn’t enough," he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "we were so close to the WCC... but mclaren just had too much."

"you did everything you could," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "no one could have driven that race better. you started from the back, charles. and you still ended up on the podium. that’s... that’s amazing."

he ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "i know, i know. it's just hard. we were so close. it stings."

you gently cupped his face, lifting his chin so his eyes met yours. "charles leclerc, you are one of the best out there. don’t let this one race make you forget everything you've accomplished this season. you fought for every position, you never gave up, and you made us all proud."

a real smile tugged at his lips, the weight on his shoulders easing slightly. "thank you," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "i needed that."

there was a brief pause, and a flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. "it’s gonna be strange without carlos next year," he said quietly, his voice low.

you felt a pang for him. you knew how close he and carlos were, both on and off the track. "i know," you murmured, your heart aching. "but you'll still have him as a friend. and you’ll both keep achieving incredible things."

he nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "he’s like a brother to me. it won’t be the same without him."

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. "i know it won’t," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. "but i know you ,charles. you'll adapt. you’ll keep shining."

he held you tighter, drawing comfort from your embrace, "what would i do without you mon amour."

you let out a soft laugh and place a gentle peck on his lips, "you'd probably be a mess without me, i love you."

"i love you too." he told you, snuggling closer.

ʚ・lando norris

the echoes of the abu dhabi celebrations had finally faded, leaving a peaceful quiet in lando's hotel suite. he was sprawled on the sofa, the trophy resting on his chest, his eyes half-closed as a contented sigh escaped his lips. the excitement from the victory was still buzzing inside him, but a calm had settled in, like he was finally letting everything sink in.

you curled up beside him, your finger tracing the lines of the trophy. "still can't believe it, huh?" you whispered, a soft smile on your face.

lando chuckled, a grin tugging at his lips. "yeah, it's still kinda crazy. like, i feel like i'm dreaming, but don't wanna wake up."

"you were amazing today, lando," you said, your voice filled with pride. "and the whole season, really. you led mclaren to victory. it’s historic."

he grinned, his eyes lighting up. "yeah, it really is, isn’t it? bringing mclaren back to the top after all this time... feels unreal. but in the best way possible."

"you deserve all the praise," you reassured him, snuggling closer. "you’ve worked so hard, and you’ve grown so much as a driver. i'm so proud of you."

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer. "couldn’t have done it without you, honestly," he murmured, his voice warm. "you’ve been with me through all of it—my biggest supporter."

"and i always will be," you promised, feeling your heart swell. "through the wins, the losses, i’ll be right here."

he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss. "and that's all i need," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

as you lay together, bathed in the soft glow of the hotel room lights, the weight of his achievement settled in. lando norris, the man who led mclaren to the top of the world again, securing the WCC after 26 years. this moment, this victory, would be something you both would remember forever. the future was bright, and you couldn’t wait for the next adventure—together.

ʚ・oscar piastri

back in the comfort of his hotel room, oscar kicked back with a grin plastered on his face, the adrenaline from the race replaced by his usual playful energy. p10 wasn’t the podium he’d wanted, but who cared? mclaren had just clinched the WCC, and that was more than enough for him.

“we did it!” he shouted, arms thrown up in the air, his grin wider than ever. “champions, baby!”

you chuckled, shaking your head at his excitement. “you guys were incredible today, oscar. especially lando, bringing home the win.”

“yeah, lando was on fire!” oscar agreed, grabbing a celebratory drink from the minibar. “though, i wouldn’t mind a podium myself…” he paused, a glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “if it weren’t for someone deciding to use my car as a brake early on.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your smile. “ah, yes. max verstappen. saw that incident. bit of a rough start, huh?”

“rough is putting it lightly,” oscar grumbled with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink. “the guy treated me like a bowling pin! swear i saw stars, maybe even a few constellations.”

“well, you can’t deny it made for some exciting racing,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“exciting for you, maybe,” he shot back with a grin. “i was just trying to survive out there! dodging debris, angry drivers... felt like a demolition derby.”

“but you made it through,” you pointed out. “and you contributed to the team’s victory. that’s what counts.”

he gave a dramatic nod, his humor returning full force. “true, true. who needs a podium when you’ve got bragging rights for surviving a verstappen torpedo?”

you burst out laughing, unable to hold back. “that’s the spirit babe."

as laughter filled the room, you couldn’t help but admire oscar’s resilience and ability to keep things light, even when things didn’t go his way. he might’ve been a little salty about the verstappen incident, but he was genuinely happy for the team, and that’s what made him such an asset. next season was going to be one to remember, and you couldn’t wait to see what this rising star would achieve.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[mattscoquette]

𝑨 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you slowly notice your boyfriend is falling out of love with you

angst !! cursing, mentions of weed, smoking, arguing, glass breaking, kinda toxic!matt, breaking up

2.3k words

are we awake? am i too old to be this stoned?

the small sliver of sunlight that peered through your curtain danced across your face, causing you to stir awake slowly. a hand reached out, only to find the other side of the mattress cold. typical.

it wasn’t long before the strong reek of matt’s weed filled your apartment, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you peered at the clock next to you, the numbers 6:37 a.m. staring back at you.

slowly, you made your way out of bed and out to the balcony, where matt resided, still clad in his pajamas. a rolled joint was held between his pointer and thumb, dark smoke swirling around him.

“are you seriously high already?” you mumbled, sleep still coaxing your voice as you wrapped your arms around your middle as a means to stay warm.

matt simply looked back at you, his usual blue eyes red and bleary. he gave you a small shrug before holding the joint to his lips, inhaling deeply.

“i guess so.”

for goodness sake, i wasn't told you'd be this cold.

it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to question if matt still loved you. you’d been together for a year and a half now, and it felt as though he’d only loved you for the first year.

it started small. little remarks you would tend to just brush off.

“you should wear this, it looks better on you.”

“why are you always in a bad mood whenever i’m around?”

but they never bothered you much. matt loved you. and you loved him. that was the way it always was, and you never seemed to think any different.

and matt was so sweet in the beginning. flowers were delivered to your door every week, along with a handwritten letter from him. your meals were always paid for, and you were almost certain you hadn’t touched a door handle for nearly half of the relationship. now, things couldn’t be more different.

when matt started being mean, you never questioned if he still loved you. he was probably having a bad day, or something heavy was weighing on him he just didn’t feel like talking about. it was never a question if he loved you or not.

but lately, you weren’t so sure anymore. it was rare for matt to be kind. he was also so angry and upset, and you couldn’t just seem to understand why. he acted like you were just an afterthought in his mind, a footnote in the story of his life. like you weren’t his girlfriend, like you weren’t his everything, like he always promised you.

you smashed a glass into pieces

that's around the time i left.

you lost count of how many argument you and matt had this week. there was always something. nothing could ever be okay with you both.

it was beginning to feel like matt wasn’t fighting for you relationship anymore. yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail, just for things to be even a little bit like how they used to be. it was an uphill battle, and you were losing.

you were angrily clearing off the table, not caring if neither you nor matt were done eating dinner. you weren’t even sure what this argument was about. something along the lines of matt bending over backwards for you, when you reciprocate nothing in return. although that couldn’t be further from the truth, you tried to listen. you tried to piece together what exactly it was that you did that made your relationship crumble.

“i just don’t get it y/n,” matt retorted as he stood up abruptly, bringing his dishes to the sink and dropping them in with a loud clank, “why is it that i’m doing everything for you, but the second i need something, it’s a big issue?”

you glared at him from you spot by the table, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. you didn’t want to argue anymore. you just wanted your boyfriend back.

he just scoffed as he turned back around, clearly not impressed with your lack of an answer. matt began to scrub the dishes bitterly, almost as if the plate had done something wrong and he was mad at it, as opposed to you.

“i do so much for you, matt.” you mumbled, keeping your head low as you wiped off the table. no matter how much you two argued, you never wanted him to see you cry. “i feel like sometimes you’re the one who can’t be pleased.”

that set him off.

“are you serious-” he began, throwing the plate down in the sink angrily as he turned around to look at you. the glass shattered, the sound piercing through the kitchen as you two fell silent.

it was an accident, you knew it, but it didn’t stop you from crying more.

you turned to face matt, your eyes red and cheeks blotchy as tears streamed down them. before he could get a word out, you were already announcing that you were going back home.

you said i'm full of diseases

your eyes were full of regret.

it had been a week and a half since matt broke the plate, and things hadn’t gotten any better. if anything, that was the first crack in the glass. matt seemed to be picking an argument all day, looking for anything to make a comment on. no matter what you did, you just couldn’t make him happy.

“can you stop hogging the damn blanket?” matt murmured as he sat next to you on the couch, his arms crossed. he tugged the fabric from your lap to his, shuffling even further away than he was before, his focus returning to the movie playing on the tv.

you looked at his side profile, his demeanor so cold and off putting. where you both used to be cuddled up together under one blanket when watching a movie, now you couldn’t so much as sit too close to him without starting something.

“sorry.” you mumbled faintly. that was starting to become a repeat word in your vocabulary. sorry. you had decided instead of arguing back, you could just be sorry. if matt felt like he was always right, he was sure to love you again the way he used to. how couldn’t he be?

“god, you’re just so annoying sometimes.” he muttered, fixing the blanket once more as his eyes bore holes through you. he watched the way your face fell, a knot twisting in his stomach.

how could he say something so mean to girl he loved so much?

in return, you sighed quietly and shakily, returning your eyes to the tv screen. you’d rather have matt be angry at you everyday than not have him at all.

you used to have a face straight out of a magazine

now you just look like anyone.

for a change, matt suggested you two go out. it was a breath of fresh air for you both. there was almost an unspoken agreement that you two couldn’t be fighting if you were in public. you could each play the part of the happy couple you once were.

you made every effort to look your best. your hair and makeup were done, your outfit perfectly put together after countless hours spent curating it. you took a step back from the mirror, smiling at your reflection. you felt really, really pretty. a small sense of optimism lingered in the air as you made your way down to matt’s car when he said he was at your apartment. he couldn’t possibly ignore you, not when you looked like this.

a small smile played on your glossed lips as you climbed into the car, your floral perfume strong. he offered the faintest of smiles, followed with a small kiss hello. to most girls, they’d be upset if their boyfriend reacted how matt did. they’d want him to compliment them, ruin their makeup. but to you, it was a start. you can’t remember the last time he made you feel how he just did.

the ride to the mall was peaceful. it was filled with small talk, the radio playing softly in the background. the day was just getting started, but you felt hopeful. you felt like today would be a really good day for you and matt, and your relationship was in desperate need of one.

and it was great. it felt almost like what you called “the good times,” the part of your relationship where matt actually felt like your boyfriend. when he actually acted like your boyfriend. he held your hand the entire time you walked through the mall, and carried every single bag for you. at the cash registers, his wallet was out before the total was even displayed on the card reader. the day was almost perfect. almost. the only thing missing was the compliments you craved from matt so badly.

in the good times, it seemed as if every other sentence coming from matt was a compliment. he loved to tell you how much he loved you. at one point, you had even wondered if matt remembered your actual name, because he was always calling you his pretty girl. his.

but today, that seemed to be the only thing lacking. instead, matt’s gaze seemed very preoccupied with the other girls in the mall. his eyes lingered at all of their bodies, the way they would show a little cleavage or expose their midriff. it didn’t take you long to realize the only reason matt was being so kind today was because he could distract himself with other girls who weren’t you.

i just sat in self-pity and cried in the car.

although you and matt had been having problems for as long as you had, you didn’t dare tell anyone. because when you were around friends, you and matt were good at pretending. nobody dared to question your relationship, because there was nothing to question. he seemed to love you the way he always had. it was only behind closed doors when you had problems.

but even though you accepted this was your relationship now, you couldn’t help but remember the good times. it would just hit you out of nowhere, the longing for something that didn’t exist anymore. something that could never be as it was. it was a crushing feeling, really, and the only thing you could do was let it consume you. it would eat at you for days, taking away your appetite and replacing it with a sinking feeling inside of you.

you often found yourself looking back at old pictures and videos, notes from matt and dead flower petals you saved. if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough, sometimes you could still feel the way you used to. you’d be lost in your thoughts, living in a deluded world where you and matt were still happy. one where he had eyes for only you, and made you feel like the most special person in the universe. you could still remember how tight he would hold you every night, how he’d look at you like you hung every star in the sky.

then, the reality would dawn on you that it wasn’t like that anymore. you were mourning a relationship that wasn’t even dead yet.

you played a part, this is how it starts.

as the days, weeks, months passed, you felt more and more detached from your relationship. you were waking up everyday next to someone you couldn’t recognize anymore. the spark you two shared was now put out, embers on the ground dying. he wasn’t the matt you fell in love with anymore.

you had stopped trying. maybe if matt noticed you were slowly fading away, he’d do something. but he didn’t. he never did. the two of you had no energy for anything anymore, your relationship on it’s last limbs.

oh, i just had a change of heart.

matt’s couch was something you’d grown accustom to over the last two years. it was your saving grace when he would push you to the point of no return, when you couldn’t even lay next to him to sleep. as the ceiling stared back at you, you heard small creaks in the floorboard as matt creeped into the living room. he looked a mess, his hair tousled in all different directions, the dark spots under his eyes more prominent than ever.

“can i lay with you?” his voice whispered in the darkness as he stood above you. he clambered in beneath the blankets when you gave a small nod, exhaustion falling over you fast.

he rustled around a bit, finally finding a comfortable position facing you. he studied your face, taking in every detail.

“it’s not working out anymore, is it?” he asked, his voice quiet.

you looked back at him. you watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his chapped lips parted and breathing hitched.

“it’s not.”

you both remained quiet, as if you were soaking in the last moments of your relationship. the same way you try to remember everything about your hotel room when you’re leaving vacation, committing every last minute thing to memory.

you stared back at matt, waiting for him to speak. he opened his mouth to speak, closing it when no words came out. he tried again.

“are we done then?”

you inhaled shakily, your eyes fluttering shut. you nodded, feeling the weight of the world come crashing down on you. two years of your life, over like that. before you could even think about getting up, matt’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“can…can you just stay with me one more night?” he asked. “i don’t want it to be over just yet.”

you peeled your eyes open, being met with matt’s sad ones. you nodded your head yes, feeling him instantly wrap his arms around your middle, pulling you into his chest. just like how he used to. his head rested atop yours, the rhythmic sound of each other’s breathing lulling you both to sleep.

you would both deal with it tomorrow. you would feel the unbearable feeling of heartbreak in the morning. but for now, you could still both be with one another the way you used to. just one last time.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ i know i was yapping sm ab needing a break but i wrote this in one sitting yesterday…. also a fanfic to the 1975 is sooo tumblr. pls lmk ur thoughts bc this is very different from what id normally write:) and thank u for 5.1k ! i love u all

[crepezinhos]

POV: They heard you talking dirty about them

He just wanted to help you unpack and place the things you had brought to your new home, but instead, met you telling to another friend in the kitchen, who was helping too, how you would easily let him fuck you after being so kind and helpful to you, and that you had a growing crush on him. He stood there for some good minutes, clueless about what he should do now, before deciding to simply continue his job there and never tell you that he heard what you said about him.

It did not work, in fact, it worsened. Now that he knew about such private secrets of a person he crushed on, he couldn’t interact with you for more than a minute before his own intrusive, pornographic thoughts about you and the things you said made his cheeks glow bright red. Of course you noticed the sudden change in behavior and went to talk to him about it, thinking that he was mad at you, and it took you five variantions of “What’s wrong?” before he finally turned to you and vomited everything out, not only the incident but also his feelings towards you. Now you two couldn’t stand each other’s presence and wanted to simply walk away in opposite directions like that moment never happened, but you had to apologize to him and he had a confession to make.

“So, hum… arewegonnadoanythingaboutit..?” He asked as quick and low as he could, really afraid of your rejection, although he had in mind you two shared the same kind of feelings to each other.

Itto, Xiao, Gorou

You and him have always had a very platonic relationship, even if you weren’t somehow brothers or emotionally connected, which always made your friends wonder if any of you crushed on each other. Now, as you and two of your common friends waited for him and the rest of guests to arrive at the private party in a bar, they decided to pull the topic up, but the slight effects of the few sips of alcohol you drank made you all of you turn into sex pests in minutes. Now there you were, describing how you would probably choke on his ‘fat cock’ as he called you a ‘good girl’ alongside with noises of you pretending to suck and choke on him as your friends cackled to death and him behind the door of the room with his beer in hands, trying to wait for a perfect moment to barge in and scare everyone.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he isn’t malicious, but it would be so fun to play with your innocence and see your face of realization when you found out that he heard that conversation. His plan of slowly giving you hints started in that same party by making slight remarks on the fact that he had been waiting behind that door for some long minutes to make his arrival scary, but you didn’t get that, or any other hint at all. After almost a week wishing for his plan to work while he lusted for intimacy with you, as you walked together to his apartment in the building, he finally decided to give the most obvious hint ever of it, by telling you a story of how ‘he heard 3 girls talk about how one of them liked this another friend in common and how they talked about many weird topics such as oral sex in a very loud tone’. You froze in place, realizing that all random, contextless remarks of him were referencing to that moment, and now it was your turn to talk since he finalized his story asking your opinion about it. He kept smirking the entire time, and the more embarrassed you seemed, the bigger his smirk was. You started apologizing in a state of panic, trying your best not to scream while you waved your hands and head and telling that it was just a joke and that it shouldn’t be serious at all, but he knows you’re just embarrassed and watched the whole scene quietly.

“Really..? Dang it… I was really getting so interested in the girl doing the ‘gulp gulp’ noises. Pfft… haha..! I’m just kidding, Y/N, I’m not offended by that at all, in fact I am actually delighted… Wanna come in and solve this matter like two adults?” He flirts while walking up to you and pulling out the keys to his apartment since you two were already at his door.

Kaeya, Kazuha Zhongli, Ayato, Thoma, Sethos, Wriothesley

Don’t ask why, but he really just wanted to make a surprise in your birthday, knowing that you were probably going to react the way he wanted you yo. He sneaked into your dorm with some others friends in common when you texted them you’d be home in five minutes, and hid behind your sofa with his confetti popper and gift in hands, prepared to explode it. He and everyone else kept very quiet when he heard you arriving, but he wasn’t expecting to hear another friend of yours coming in too. That person want involved in the prank at all, and since he was the leader of that surprise, he whispered commands to everyone, making everyone get back at their spots. Unexpectedly, the topic of the conversation changed into him and what you liked most about him. You initially described he was a very nice person and that you thought he dressed well, but surprisingly, you decided to specifically tell about how his eyes were sexy and always caught your attention. Your friend, interested in what she heard, kept the conversation going by spicing it, and the next thing you said was how making eye contact with him during sex would make your orgasm come faster. Everyone’s jaw was dropped, although they recognized your tone was ironic, including you after they revealed themselves very suddenly.

After that moment of shock and happiness, the first thing he did was walk up to you when he saw you lonely with his arms crossed in much confidence, who and self-stern.

“Wow… between all the parts in my body that could make you cum faster, what turns you on are my eyes?! Such a lame answer… I was expecting more, I must say.” He joked as he stood beside you and leaned against the wall, which made you finally panic in embarrassment as you apologized non-stop.

He would never ever tell anyone that he had to hide a slight, increasing boner in his pants during that entire surprise party.

Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Heizou, Cyno

It was midnight and he was trying to sleep, but he kept failing since the noises coming from all the girls in your dorm didn’t allow him to relax. You were doing a girl’s night in your dorm, a silly sleepover, and he was hating every bit of it as he switched his position for the hundredth time. But as soon as he heard one of your many visitors mention him and ask you about him, his eyes opened. He might be a frank, honest, cold soul, but come on… who doesn’t like to at least know what other people thought of you?

Well, since everyone except you, thought of him as a weird, rude, creepy man… they started making questions about how would he possibly fuck a pussy. The majority of girls thought he would need lessons before doing it, some thought that he was just an average fucker, but some few, including you, thought he might actually be good at it. Most girls didn’t understand why, so you described how you thought he probably has some sort of weird kink that most people don’t like, so he has to hide it, but might’ve actually made many girls see heaven. Then… you started to scene a weird role-play sex scenario of a tutor and his student by asking easy math questions, like he was the one saying it, then tuning your voice to a girly one answer the question, which made you suddenly clap your hands and go back to the manly voice to say ‘Wrong!’ and some punishment orders, making all your friends cackle like a group of hyenas.

“Ew.” That was all he thought.

He was so shocked and disgusted with the absurdity of the conversation that he decided to get up and go to your door to ask for a better silence. Luckily, you were the one to answer it, and as he described that he couldn’t sleep because of the volume, he mentioned that he could hear every single word coming out of everyone’s mouth through those thin walls, which obviously made you internally worried. After that, all he mostly heard was some dirty jokes about ‘punishing Y/N in bed after disturbing the hot nerd’s sleep’ and giggles, then silence took in. He sighed as he laid down again and closed his eyes, knowing that his attempts to sleep would better, but now… his mind was the problem. Those suggestions of role-play sex between him as a tutor, and you as a mere student was keeping his mind more awake than before. Slapping your buttocks whenever you got a wrong answer doesn’t seem like a bad idea to make someone as stupid as you focus, but then he gives up on that excitement because he’s the kind of person who’ll try his best to do it only with someone who truly deserves it and despises kinks.

But why is his mind filling him with the most pornographic imagery of you ever..? He can even feel his tip slightly touching the sheets, like his mind is keeping him awake to get rid of that need for sex… but he’ll never ever reduce himself to those animalistic thoughts.

“God, no, why am I even thinking about this kind of stuff..?!” He asked to himself, switching his position in the bed for the fifth time.

Maybe he doesn’t hate kinks, he has never tried one anyways, but his ego doesn’t want to live with the fact that for once in your life, you predicted something correctly about him despite his intelligence and awareness of intimacy or identity.

Diluc, Wanderer, Albedo, Tighnari, Neuvillette, Al Haitham

Taglist: @alatusorrow @kindofshyent @kindofscenic @the-stinky-winky

(More silly thoughts cuz why not 🙏)

[fresalana]

you told me your new man don't make you nut that's a damn shame.

synopsis: showing caitlin what it feels like to feel.

warnings: referring to c*nnor, sex. idk how to write warnings.

type: long blurb?

a/n: new tag. first time writing smut. i hope y'all missed me, because i missed y'all.

you knew caitlin wasn't cumming the way she deserved to. c*nnor was definitely not making that happen. she was constantly working hard, giving but never receiving. you wanted to help your friend relax; you wanted to her show her what it was like to feel. you wanted her to understand that dick wasn't the only thing that could make a woman cum. not that she was getting any real dick, anyway.

caitlin's back arched involuntarily off of the bed, a whimper leaving her lips as her hands gripped the bedding tightly – she was going to rip holes in it if she continued gripping it any harder.

"i feel like i'm gonna die, please," caitlin whispered, the desperation in her voice evident as she looked down at you, pleading with you to do something.

"you're not gonna die." you replied, rolling your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. she had squirted at least eight times on the towel beneath her. your fingers were deep inside her pussy, massaging her g-spot, forcing her to cum again and again. your thumb was rubbing her aching clit.

she knew she wasn't going to die, but you were driving her so insane that it felt like she was. "i feel like i am," caitlin whined quietly, her body shaking slightly, her head falling back against a pillow.

you leaned down, kissing her aching clit. "again, you're not gonna die, cait" with your voice muffled against her wet pussy, you licked a stripe up her clit, causing her hips to chase after your mouth. your teasing and condescending remarks were driving caitlin insane – and it wasn't the good kind of insane.

"yes i am," caitlin whimpered, shaking her head. "please, oh my god," and even caitlin could admit that she was being totallydramatic.

"all you can say is please." you scoffed, pumping your fingers into and out of her pussy at a rapid, steady pace with a wet plap! the fact that you had so much power over caitlin was irritating, she'd never admit that. she would never tell you, but there was a certain level of irritation when she was so desperate for something only you could give her.

"mmm," caitlin whined in response, her back arching and hips bucking into your hand, her head falling back against the pillow. "i - i can't, please please-"

"can't what?"

caitlin had no idea what she was even capable of saying and doing at this point, the only thing she was thinking about was what you could do to her. she had completely lost control of her body and was completely at your mercy, and it was killing her.

"i can't take it, i - i really can't," caitlin's words were cut off bay a whine, her hands still gripping the bedding on the bed.

"you want me to stop?"

there were many things caitlin wanted to say and do – but she was too busy feeling the pleasure and overstimulation that you were giving her, which made it difficult to form sentences.

"no, no, keep going, don't stop – oh please -"

"you don't even know what you're saying." you sighed, massaging her g-spot faster.

"your boyfriend ever make you cum before? hm?" your words were, once again, incredibly annoying but arousing to caitlin, who really didn't want to think about c*nnor. being with you was nothing like the relationship she's in now.

"no, god, never," caitlin responded through a whimper, looking down at you. "never like this." your words were incredibly true, and they bothered caitlin; her boyfriend was nothing like you. with you she felt so much more comfortable, free to lay back and have north care for her without having to worry about anything.

"mhm. he probably didn't even fuck you. made you do alll the work. you don't have to do that here, baby. just lay here and "feel .." as you planted a gentle kiss on her stomach, you quickly moved your thumb in tight, fast circles over her clit.

"i love you," caitlin spoke quietly, her eyes shut tightly as she trembled, her back arching as she came again that night. safe to say she'd be coming back for more, and more, and more..

[kaiser1ns]

𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗿𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: in an attempt to win once again, rin is betrayed by his own children who seemed to love their mother more.

╹contents :: domestic life with rin, characters are 25 years old, FLUFF, the kids betrayed rin wopsie, personal headcanon is that when he grows up he tends to be more gentle but only for you tho <3

╹notes :: posting this and going into hibernation again , I am cooking up some fics and drabbles tho

Never in your life would you have guessed and expected that you would have a family not with anyone, but with Itoshi Rin. The sixteen year old boy who ignored your existence but always gave you his English notes. The boy who always listened to your complaining during breaks, that you are thirsty or hungry and when you left the classroom and came back there was always a strawberry milk with a chocolate cupcake on your desk.

The boy who is now your husband, a successful young footballer who at only 25 years of age has a lot of achievements — in career and personal paths of course. Winning another treble with his team, he had a break during the summertime where he could spend more time with you and the twins — Haruto and Hinata.

Rin had never thought he would be a good father, that he would be a father at all if he was being honest with himself. But the miracle happened and now there are two little nine-month-old babies waiting to be fed sitting in their high chairs.

You sit at the kitchen table, feeding Haruto and Hinata their breakfast while Rin sips his coffee, a soft smile adoring his now more matured face as he watches the three of you. He was smitten by how fast you adapted to parenthood because just twenty years ago you were kids playing house taking care of the many baby dolls you had and now the game came into life.

"He's trying to stand again," you say, glancing over at Haruto, who's attempting to pull himself up on the edge of his high chair.

Rin looks over at his son, who looks exactly like you, but can't get by without the genes and the visible lower eyelashes. "Hinata's been babbling non stop. I swear she probably got that from you." Setting his cup down wiping the mashed potatoes from his daughter's mouth. As for her, she is Rin's copy , as you sometimes tend to joke that Rin and Hinata look more like twins instead of her brother.

Rolling your eyes at his comment as Haruto took another spoon of the puree. "Well, it's good that she is trying to say her first words." Looking at your husband with this glint in your eyes that now spark and he just knows that this stare is up for no good. "But with you always staying quiet, I think, it will take her way more time to say the two syllables."

Rin raised an eyebrow. "Careful who you are challenging now." As the babies giggle and play with their food, you and him engage in a staring contest, each silently daring the other to back down.

"I bet Haruto will walk first," you declared confidently, eyeing the little boy as he was just playing with his food along with his sister. Rin scoffed, furrowing his brows as he crossed his arms. "Hinata will definitely beat him to it. She's already trying to stand on her own and talk."

Just then, amidst the 'fight' a glob of potato puree escapes Haruto's grasp and lands on Rin's shirt, much to your amusement and his dismay.

"See, even your son disagrees with you," you replied, unable to contain your laughter as you got a napkin to wipe the mess off your husband's shirt.

Rin's expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his annoyance. "Looks like Haruto is already making his own statements," he remarked, glancing down in an attempt to be angry at his son for throwing the mashed potatoes but he just couldn't. Not when he looked so cute, with his little baby eyes that were the same color as yours, it was really scary how each of you had a little copy of yourself.

"Maybe he's trying to tell us that he's ready for solid foods," You joked, reaching for another napkin to clean up the rest of the mess on your son's chair.

Rin shook his head, going to take a sip of his cold coffee, "Or maybe he's just following in his mother's steps to be a troublemaker." he teased, earning a playful swat on the arm from you making him nearly choke. "Oh, please! Just because I had detention twice in highschool doesn't mean anything."

"And why did you have detention?" That you didn't like to answer because he will again make fun of you for doing it when you were kids. "You know why, Rinnie."

He actually doesn't know because they didn't want the reputation of the school to be tarnished and kept it secret between the teachers and people involved.

"How lukewarm, and I wanted to show our kids who not to take an example from." Rin said, reaching out to tickle Haruto's chubby cheeks as if seeking his son's support in his quest for answers. A small smile playing on your lips despite your attempt to stay neutral. "Fine, fine. I may have... uh, taken matters into my own hands when some idiots decided to talk shit about you," you admitted shyly, trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation.

Rin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You got detention for defending me?" he couldn't believe it, actually he can, sometimes you get aggressive, be it because of people who shit talk him, a video game, or the fact that your favorite flavor of ice cream was out of stock. "That's... You are actually insane."

For once you expected something romantic to come out of his mouth but having big expectations can only let you down. You didn't mind though, that was his way of showing his appreciation and apparently it was sarcasm with witty remarks. "Well, you know, I couldn't just stand by and let them bully you," you mumbled, busying yourself with cleaning up Hinata's highchair now, trying to avoid further discussion on the topic. "At least they stopped messing around with you."

Rin reached over, gently lifting your chin with his finger to meet his gaze. "Thank you, Y/N," the tenderness in his voice and the love in his eyes told you enough. And you felt sixteen again when you got your first kiss. Leaning closer his nose touching yours, his lips barely brushing against yours , suddenly the babies started crying, interrupting the moment. With a soft sigh, you pulled away, smiling apologetically at Rin before rushing to attend to the crying babies. Rin glared at the twins for momentarily stealing his wife's attention. And he wonders, from where did they get to be so clingy?

Changed and cleaned, Haruto and Hinata played with their toys on the soft rug in the living room, as you and Rin sat on the couch, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation and not changing diapers or removing food from your clothes but instead watched Mickey Mouse Club House.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to Hinata, who was attempting to pull herself up using the fence of their playing crib. "Look, Rin, she's trying to stand!" Y/N exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice. Didn't Rin bet on Hinata being the first to talk? “Quick open your camera, if I don't have this moment recorded, I swear Itoshi!”

Rin quickly reached for his phone as you went inside the mini playground. "It's recording, calm down," he said, already tapping on the record button.

Hinata wobbled on her tiny legs, her little giggles with a gasp of surprise, she took her first uncertain steps, stumbling slightly before falling into Y/N's waiting arms.

Your heart swelled with joy as you hugged Hinata close. "You did it, sweetheart! You took your first steps!"

Meanwhile, Haruto, who had been watching his sister intently, seemed to be trying to do something. Suddenly, he blurted out, "Mama!"

You and your husband exchanged stunned glances, eyes wide with disbelief. "Did he just...?" Rin trailed off as he was trying to process everything.

"I think he did," you replied, voice trembling with emotion. Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you looked at Rin, Haruto crawling to you as you placed Hinata on your left.

Rin's expression mirrored yours as he stared at the children, phone still in his hand, "I can't believe it,”

“Me too… Our babies grew so fast, oh my I need to call both of our moms and tell them about this!”

“They prefer you instead of me...” As you reached for your phone, Rin pouted "I didn't know I had 3 babies instead of 2." His mock hurt expression made you burst into laughter.

Grinning, you teased, "Well, Haruto seems to be leaning towards Mama, but don't worry, I'm sure Hinata's first word will be Dada."

As if on cue, Hinata reached out towards Rin, her tiny fingers curling around his shirt sleeve. Rin's heart melted at the sight, and he scooped her up into his arms, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek. "Looks like she's already practicing saying 'Dada'," you said, unable to hide the happy tone in your voice. One thing was for sure that Hinata was daddy's girl and you will practice saying da-da just for Rin to have his moment of glory.

“Do you want to go to call Isagi and brag about our kids?"

"Absolutely.”

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[mygnolia]

A HUNDRED HIDDEN KISSES | s. jaeyun

୨୧ -› so, the story goes that you’re supposed to feud with Sim Jaeyun, with his perfectly handsome face, his foreign exchange student accent, or his flirty remarks. but the story has a plot twist; somewhere along the way, you fell for his winks and charm.

pair -› (BLONDE.) soccer player!jake x top student!fmr | trope -› one sided enemies to lovers | wc -› 1.7k | cw -› kissing but idk how to write two ppl kissing oops anyways downbad HORRENDOUSLY down bad jake here | library

the weird thing about a crush is, it happens unexpectedly. 

maybe not so unexpected- because your heart has an attraction to the lamest soccer player on the team before your head even tolerated him. you hated sim jaeyun and you swore you did- but maybe you didn’t swear hard enough, because at some point, you could see your sense of rational floating above your head before it pops like a bubble and disappears into thin air. 

see- you’re supposed to hate sim jake. he’s obnoxious and loud and always says ‘no’ in the accent that makes it incredibly clear that it’s him (and only him) who’s said it. and not just that- he’s become best friends with sunghoon in an instant. park sunghoon, aka, your study buddy since beginning of high school. so yeah- maybe you hate that sunghoon has started hanging out with jake more and you swear you always catch the new exchange student looking in your direction whenever he’s with sunghoon. he definitely talks about you, but sunghoon is as quiet as a mouse when you two study for exams- which is infuriating, and so unlike him. but there’s another huge huge problem. 

jake is probably the prettiest boy you’ve met in your life. 

he came to the school with shorter hair, but sunghoon’s ability to change someone’s entire look is blessed by the gods- and sunghoon himself was kissed by eternal beauty, so of course, when they started hanging out, you noticed the change in clothes to be more baggy, his walk to be much more confident, his grin to be sly, and his hair to be so much cuter when styled. you were royally fucked from the day you saw jake wave in your direction when he entered class, with a confident smile that you weren’t sure he only showed to you. 

and that made you all the more irritated with him. “I am not going to teach him anything, hoon.” you state firmly. “he’s like- the most annoying younger brother you could ever ask for.” and there’s a worrying look that flashes in the boy’s eye, leaving you confused and pondering on the way home. “why don’t you teach him art history?” 

“we goof around too much.” and you roll your eyes at his lame excuse. 

and yet another problem arises. see, park sunghoon knew much more than you did when it came to jake. he knew that he played soccer in his backyard before heading to school, that his dog was a border collie, and that sim jake had a crush on you- aka- the most unavailable girl ever, who’s never dated anyone, thinks boys (especially boys who play sports) are stupid, and has a hatred for jake and only him. so sunghoon thinks his friend is utterly hopeless, and wants to tell him to give up, but when sunghoon hears how the boy raves about you and how pretty you looked in class today, he smacks jake on the arm and whines to him about shutting up and to stop being a loser. 

“do you think she’ll like it if i dyed my hair blonde?” 

sunghoon sighs, “you could dye your hair any color and she’d still want to cut it off.”

jake blinks. “but blondes are hot, right?”

and that’s how he shows up the next day, making you shrink in your seat from just how much better he looks and how much more annoying that makes him. 

jake has heard about the guys you’ve rejected for liking you because they’re shallow. and jake sees how you scowl at him- but he’s determined to make you his girlfriend, so once again, he tells you good morning with that accent of his and that grin on him, and you mumble a good morning back, wondering why the hell he’s always trying to talk to you. maybe he still wants you to tutor him for art history. maybe that’s why he intercepts you on the way out of the school gates with heavy breathing after running across campus.

“please- stay after practice.” he begs you, and you recognize a fresh ocean scent that compliments his bubbly personality with how he’s run up to you and leans down to make eye contact. and there’s only one thought in your head, one that manifests into stupid words that stupid and now blonde sim jaeyun hears. 

“you’re so pretty.” and you think if an alien ufo were to suck you up into space and carry you away from the pit of shame and embarrassment you’ve carved out for yourself, you would embrace extraterrestrial life without hesitation if it meant getting away from him. “fuck, sorry, i didn’t mean to say that.” 

and fuck, his laugh his so cute when you hear it, so much so that it momentarily distracts you from the blaring truth that his efforts to look good for you have paid off. “you think i’m pretty?” 

“pretty stupid.” and you try to say it with malice, but it comes out small and he knows you mean none of it. “i’ll be waiting with sunghoon on the bleachers.” 

yeah- it’s safe to say that jake has never scored that many times against his goalie in his entire life. but his excitement is infectious, and when sunghoon sneaks out of the sitting area to meet his friend during a break, the latter knows something is up. “she called me pretty, hoon. like, she actually meant it.”

“are you sure?” 

“and then she said i was pretty stupid, but liste-ow! what the hell?” he stops himself when he gets yet another smack from sunghoon- except this time, his friend’s eyes are shining. 

“no way. she meant it?” and jake nods in earnest. 

“that’s why she’s been waiting at the bleachers.” and sunghoon fake gags. 

“you’re disgustingly in love with her or something.” jake offers him a lopsided smile and bounces off in your direction, afraid you’ve left now that there’s no one on the field and the sun might start to set soon. but to his relief, you’re there, with your pretty hair and your pretty face and your pretty everything. 

“____!” he says running over with his bag. “sorry for keeping you waiting.” 

you close your notebook, where you’ve done half of your math homework between watching jake pass the ball and scoring. and you’re a little irritated at how long it takes for boys to run across the field to practice soccer, but you’re just more worried about getting home safely. “tell me what you need. it’s cold, and it’s getting dark, sim.” 

“you walk home?” and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed something like that sooner. and you nod, packing your things slowly. “i’ll go with you.” 

“why?”

“because i don’t want a pretty girl like you to walk home alone.” he says, changing his shoes. 

“i’m not worried because it’s dark, i’m worried because it’s cold.” you argue, not ignoring how he calls you pretty. 

“then wear my hoodie.” 

“but my face will be cold.” 

“then kiss me.” he blurts. 

huh? kiss? jake? 

“kiss?” you reiterate, staring at him like he has three heads. 

jake’s eyes widen in panic. “well you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“it’s not like i don’t want to.”

“so if you want to, and your face is cold, why can’t we..”

“well i don’t know what it’s like to be kissed!” you admit awkwardly, suddenly finding the dirt on the bleachers much more interesting than the way jake is probably looking at you like you’re a loser. 

“it’s okay, i haven’t either.” and his confession makes you whip your head around, face to face with a boy who very much looks like he’s had a girlfriend- or a few. 

“but-“ and you’re definitely taken aback. “but you’re so..” 

all of the playfulness floods back into his grin as he unabashedly observes your every reaction. “so…what, ____?” and despite a frown overcoming your features, your heart thuds rapidly with the proximity between you two, and you can’t help but lose your train of thought when he’s so close. “pretty?” and it refers to your slip of tongue, making you scrunch your nose in embarrassment. 

“i don’t know.” your murmur. 

“you don’t? come on angel, you aren’t the smartest in our class for nothing.” and you hear the way his accent permeates every few words, and unfortunately, it’s just painfully unfair how attractive he looks when he chuckles and reaches up. “may i?” he says, and you nod, letting him scoot closer and grasp your chin. and you give him permission because you don’t have a reason to say no, and even if you did, all protest dies on your tongue when he leans in just a little bit more, and your eyes flutter shut, tilted slightly for your lips to slot perfectly against his. and your face burns with how much you enjoyed your kiss with jake, so much so that when you part, it’s not for long, since you place your hands on his shoulders and whisper to no one but him, “kiss me again.” 

and you kiss sim jaeyun on the bleachers for the second time, your hands pulling him close as you both enjoy the spark of the moment. and jake can’t get enough of you- it's evident with now the time you spend apart from each other far less in comparison to the time he spends with his eyes closed and with your lips against his. 

you pull apart with a giggle and a boulder of bashfulness on your shoulders, unsure of how you even got here with your lip balm smeared across his lips. and you’re one of the smartest students there, but your train of thought probably crashed somewhere the moment you could smell the fresh scent of his cologne. 

yeah- maybe you were doomed from the start. 

“let’s get you home, yeah?” 

and even though your face is still cold, you wear his hoodie and hold his hand to make sure you’re not cold anywhere else. “what did you want me to stay behind for?”

“right- art history!”

“i said it a whole bunch of times! i’m not going to tutor you, jake!”

he pouts. "still?"

reblogs + interactions r appreciated!

[pitchsidestories]

the law of attraction II Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1880

a/n: hi, it's based off this lovely request here. On a different note, how adorable are Ingrid and Mapi in that gif ?! ❤️

“Here comes our little genius, girls.”, Mapi told her teammates proudly while you walked towards the injured defender. Their curious glances made your face turn hot.

“Maria, we’re the same height, so stop calling me little!”, you playfully rolled her eyes at her.

“Sure.”, she shook her head in amusement.

“Girls.”, Ingrid intervened smiling.

“Ingrid, hi.”, you greeted her, happy to see the Norwegian again.

“Hi. Nice to see you.”, the dark-haired woman responded, wrapping her arms around you for a hug.

“Great to see you too. Also watching you two at training is something different than Uni.”, you mumbled thankfully into her embrace.

The weight of the library books in your rucksack reminded you of what you’ve been doing the whole day. Spending too much time in front of your laptop without successfully coming closer to solving the mathematical issue you’ve been working on.

“She’s getting some distraction from a math problem.”, Mapi explained to the fellow footballers with a smug grin on her lips.

“Yes, maybe the distraction helps me to solve it later.”, you replied in a hopeful tone.  

“Worth a try.”, Ingrid nodded.

“Exactly.”

“Such a smart ass.”, the tattooed Spaniard teased you.

“Maria.”, the Scandinavian scolded the older woman before she continued beaming at you, maybe we can all grab some food together after training?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”, you answered happily, you could really need a distraction and being in your friend’s apartment with Bagheera who loved to cuddle with you sounded delightful in your ears.

“Math nerd, it’s time for the beauties to get to work.”, Alexia reminded the three of you winking.

“I’m not keeping them from it.”, you pointed out laughing.

To her captain the defender said slightly annoyed:” Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.”

On their way to the training pitch, Marta remarked:” I mean you two have a personal supporter here so you should be motivated.”

“She's probably calculating some stuff in her head instead of watching.”, Mapi commented with a smirk.

Ingrid agreed: “As usual but she looks adorable while doing so.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Both of them watched on as you stared into space, too occupied with the equations in front of your inner eye.

Alexia shot her two teammates a suspicious look and teased: “One could almost think you two are in love with her.”

Mapi laughed nonchalantly: “Oh, please.”

“We're not.”, Ingrid protested, a pinkish hue appeared on her cheeks as she jogged off to warm up.

Alexia followed closely: “Just focus on training.”

“I am focused.”, Ingrid said.

The team captain looked over her shoulder at Mapi with a raised eyebrow: “I mean both of you.”

“Ale!”

She shrugged Mapis complaint away: “I just want to train.

Right after training, you found yourself at Mapis and Ingrids apartment. The takeaway you picked up on your way back filled the kitchen with a delicious smell of freshly cooked Thai food. You gathered around the kitchen table as Mapi started to set the table.

“You girls did so well.”, you remarked as you opened the styrofoam boxes, eyeing the food.

Mapi chuckled: “It was just a training session… or did you mean picking the food?”

“The food actually.”, you grinned, cheekily stealing a fork full.

“Of course, we're great at that.”, Mapi replied.

You started to spoon some food onto your plate and smiled: “Trainingwise, you both seemed a bit distracted.”

“Distracted?”, Ingrid echoed, almost dropping her fork in surprise.

“Yes.”

Her girlfriend swiftly changed the topic: “Tell us instead if there's someone distracting you from doing too much uni stuff.”

“No, no time for that. Besides you two do that already.”, you answered truthfully.

The norwegian blinked at you innocently: “We're not doing anything.”

“Right, we only invite you over for dinner or games.”, Mapi nodded.

“See?”, you only asked, the couple clearly already made the point for you.

Mapi gave you an unimpressed look and said around a mouthful of food: “You could just say no.”

“Yes, but I like going.”, you had to admit.

“And you can't work on your uni stuff all day round.”, Ingrid joined in.

“Exactly.”

You sighed. It was charming that they worried about you but in the end, you had chosen this career path and you loved what you did.

“It's kind of my job…”

“Yes, and we're so proud of you.”, Ingrid said, carefully reaching across the table to take your hand in hers.

You took a deep breath before confessing:” Thanks. It just gets lonely at times. Sometimes I want to have a relationship but then I again, I don’t think I would have time for that.”

“You know we’re always here for you, right?”, Mapi asked you in a cautiously tone.

You shot her a grateful glance: “I do, and I appreciate that.”

“You know, I think there might be a solution for this.”, the Spanish defender begun.

“You do?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously at her.

Turning her head to face the Norwegian, Mapi continued:” I think Ingrid is thinking the same.”

“I am.”, her girlfriend nodded earnestly.

Confused you looked between the football players:” What are you talking about?”

“Tell her, Mapi.”, Ingrid urged the Spanish woman to keep talking.

“We could provide the relationship stuff for you while you focus on your studies.”, the defender suggested.

“Wait.. are you saying..? You must be joking.”, you responded, the surprise clearly written all over your face.

“No, we’re serios, y/n.”, Mapi reassured you.

“We both want to be with you.”, Ingrid emphasized the previous words of her girlfriend.

“I thought I was the only one with the crush.”, you replied still shocked by the offer of your friends.

“Oh dear, you might be very book smart, but..”, the defender smirked.

“But not when it comes to girls.”, the Norwegian ended the sentence of the older woman equally amused.

“The laws of attraction.”, Mapi hummed.

“That’s something they don’t teach in University.”, you answered, running one hand nervously through your open hair.

“No worries, we can teach you that like you taught me math at school all those years ago.”, the defender promised in a soothingly voice.

“I think I would like that.”, you declared smiling.

“So would be.”, Ingrid grinned satisfied.

“I can’t believe that.”, you giggled in disbelief.

“You better start believing.”, Mapi said.

“She’s a mathematician, she probably needs proof, Mapi.”, the dark-haired woman reminded the older player.

The Spanish defender mumbled:” Good point.” She was the first to kiss you, Ingrid followed swiftly. Both kisses tasted like the start of something new and exciting.

“What do you think? Enough proof?”, the Scandinavian midfielder gave you a challenging look.

“Yes, I think that was enough to make me believe that you were serious about this.”, you responded with a shy smile on your lips.

“That’s what we wanted to hear.”, Mapi commented beaming.

It took you some time to get used to a new relationship but a few weeks in, you could confirm that you felt happy and safe with your two girlfriends. So, of course you were a tiny bit sad when they left for the Champions League semifinal in London while you had to stay in Barcelona and work on your thesis… Or at least that was you told them.

Ingrid stood on the perfect green grass at Stamford Bridge right before warm-up. She watched the stadium slowly fill through a curtain of rain.

With a soft sigh, she said: “It's sad that y/n couldn't come with us to London, Mapi…”

“Maybe she can join us for the final if she isn't too busy.”, the injured defender shrugged.

“I mean it's in Spain which might make it easier for her.”

“That would be great.”, Mapi agreed.

A sudden grin appeared on Ingrids face as she pointed over towards the away fans. A red and blue flag had caught her attention. “Oh look, someone in the stands has the same flag as you, Mapi.”

As Mapi followed her gaze, Ingrids jaw dropped in shock: “Wait, is that y/n?”

From your place in the stands, you had no idea what your girlfriends said but the way their faces went from shock to lighting up with excitement told you everything you needed to know.

“There's no way!”, Mapi exclaimed.

“That little bi-…”, Ingrid started but was quickly interrupted by Marta who nodded in Vickys and Salmas direction. “Ingrid, not in front of the children!”

“Sorry.”, the Norwegian laughed before pulling Mapi with her towards the stands.

Laughing, you waved your Barcelona flag as they came to a stop in front of you: “Hi Ingrid, Mapi.”

“What are you doing here?!“, Mapi asked, leaning over to plant a kiss on your cheek.

You shrugged: “Surprising you girls.”

“You said you were too busy!”, Ingrid pouted.

“And I was busy but one of my fellow students reminded me that you only live once, so…” You gestured around the stadium with an innocent smile.

Mapi shook her head: “Why do you listen to them but not to us?”

“It's a scientific fact that we only have one life…”

She did not let you finish and instead rolled her eyes: “I can't with you nerd.”

“Me neither but I'm really glad you’re here.”, Ingrid smiled at you.

You grinned: “You're welcome.”

“You'll be our lucky charm.”, the defender winked and you could feel the blood rushing into your cheeks.

“Hope it works.”

Ingrid gave you a quick kiss: “See you after the match.”

“Have fun but win this.”, you called after her as she hurried away to warm up with the rest of the team.

Over her shoulder, she replied: “With Mapi and you we should be able to.”

“Ready, Mapi?”, you asked the Spanish defender smirking.

She took your hand in hers, replying confidently: ”Ready.”

“I can’t wait.”, you exclaimed as they started playing the hymn of the women’s champions league.

Despite the rain the team of your girlfriends were eager to win this and Mapi and you tried your best to support them from the stands. After the match ended in a 2:0 for Barcelona, your friend cheered:”Y/n, we won!”

“Ingrid was amazing, right?”, you wanted to know from her, your eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes, she was.”, Mapi grinned at you. Both of you were too caught up in your bliss, so you didn’t saw the Norwegian coming.

“Hey!”, she greeted you, mirroring your bright smiles.

“You were so great, Ingrid.”, you told her proudly.

“Thanks.”, Ingrid responded.

“We’re so proud of you.”, Mapi mumbled while wrapping her arms around the taller woman who lifted her up easily in their hug.

“You were amazing support.”, the younger player declared.

The Spanish defender who was pulling you into the group huddle announced with a cheeky grin:” That means you’ve to come to the final too.”

“I do?”, you questioned amused.

“Yes, absolutely, you can’t say no.”, Ingrid tuned in.

“I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

“We’ll count that as a yes.”, Mapi winked at you before kissing first the Norwegians cheek than yours.

And indeed, you were able to come to the Champions League final much to the happiness of your girlfriends. The law of attraction didn’t allow anything else. Love has won before any of the teams graced the pitch.

[lisafication]

This post is uh, extremely normal I swear

So hello yes I am absolutely On My Bullshit regarding my new favourite game. 

That’s right, it’s the cannibal incest game, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And I’m here to shove five thousand words of pretentious analysis down your throat because, and I do not exaggerate, I think it is one of, if not the best written game I have ever played. And I have played a lot of games, including Baldur’s Gate 3, Final Fantasy XIV and Undertale, to name a few narrative luminaries to come to mind.

That wordcount is not an exaggeration. My brainworms are extremely powerful and now you can share them with me as I walk you through my insane skyscraper of inference-driven analysis.

Or you can click away. I really wouldn’t blame you, it’s quite a lot.

Content Warnings: …Yes?

(To drop the bit for a moment, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley covers extremely disturbing material and challenges you to examine aspects of living in this world that many have taken for granted all their life, it is not a comfortable game, this will cover similar topics and will often echo the game’s unremitting scepticism on basic principles of society and humanity and you should look after yourself first. My Content Warning is framed as a joke, but it’s also quite real in that the game is designed to make you uncomfortable and there’s no shame in that not being for you.)

This was originally posted on and formatted for Sufficient Velocity, and you can probably more easily read and discuss it with me here.

With that said, let’s dig in. I have had to split this into multiple posts because tumblr will only allow so many images. There will be spoilers for all endings.

She’s excited, are you?

It’s All About Ashley

It really is, isn’t it? I mean, for approximately eighty percent of the total game as currently released and the entirety of Episode 1, you’re in control of Ashley, just as she’s in control of her and Andrew’s relationship for 80% of the game, up until the various ending sequences where it begins to slip. The only other characters who really matter at all in and of themselves are Andrew and her mother — and the former is under her thumb, and she eats the latter. It’s all about Ashley. Even her obsession with Andrew is, ultimately, about Ashley.

But who is Ashley? What is Ashley? Why is Ashley, even? Let’s take a look.

Ashley as presented to us in Episode 1 is very straightforward, so let’s list off the traits we’re given — she is malicious, she is fearless, she lacks empathy, she doesn’t have anything resembling a conscience, she demands Andrew belong to her and her alone, she has him at her beck and call.

In Episode 2, we’re ostensibly shown how she has him at her beck and call— she leverages the threat of reporting Nina’s death over him and had him swear to be with her forever. We’re shown that even as a child she was “just, like that” — but as a child, she hadn’t learnt to live with it yet, to laugh at the farce of it all.

Yeah, exactly like that!

And she does this throughout Episode 1 — The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a remarkably silly game much of the time, finding moments of absurdity and levity against a backdrop blacker than pitch — and most of the time, your internal narration is coming from Ashley and the jokes will not-infrequently come at her own expense.

She will later get negged by her human sacrifice for her poor ritual circle drawing

Her reaction to being told that her soul is as dark and viscous as tar is “You guess you already knew that” — it’s confirmation to her, not new information. Ashley knows who she is. But who taught her this? There’s layers to this, nothing in this game is as simple and straightforward as it appears at first sight, which is why I’ve been obsessing over it for days.

While it’s common in fiction, the truth of the matter is, most ‘bad people’ really do think they’re good people. But Ashley has never once thought of herself as a good person — or perhaps better put as a person worthy of love — as we learn across Episodes 1 & 2, with our flashbacks to Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!!

I really wish I had space in this essay to talk about this, but I’d like to touch on these being traits usually more easily forgiven in young boys than young girls at some point.

If she removes all other options, only then can she expect him to like her.

This is something that is echoed in the modern day — her seeming self-assurance is easily shaken and she reaches out to the world — usually Andrew — to affirm and validate her, soothing her insecurities, using any tool she deems necessary. Even when her life is on the line when Andrew has her by the throat at the climax of Episode 1, the only ‘compelling reason’ she can give Andrew to not kill her is her ability to soothe his nightmares. When he tells her there are sleeping pills for that…

Most people would have a bit more to argue for their existence.

While she, unlike Andrew, acknowledges having had friends before the quarantine… you know she’s got a point that they didn’t even bother to answer her calls, that was clearly not something the state was interfering with given Andrew’s calls with his mother and his girlfriend, and given her general demeanour it’s not hard to imagine that… they weren’t ever very close. When we see her and Nina talk in the infamous ‘box scene’, it’s clear that Nina doesn’t like her very much, despite Andrew’s assessment of Nina as being one of Ashley’s friends.

We see further support for her general lack of companionship in her dream sequence in the Burial route — Leyley and Leyley Alone. No matter what you do, you can’t place the pink plushy at the family table, the flowers won’t bloom if you give the Julia and Nina plushies her own as a companion instead of Andrew’s — and if you’re bold enough to go for the ‘incest route’, in the ‘Love’ room you see that no one ever looks happy to be with her in the childlike depictions of her history, nor is she happy in turn, save for when she’s with Andrew. In a bit of heavy-handed metaphor, the player then overwrites all of these tense, upset, hard moments with Andrew, having him fill in for everyone else in life — and happy with her.

Once Upon A Lousy Life…

THE END

And that’s why she needs him to affirm her, because no one else ever has and no one else ever will. It’s even included in their comic beats — when the siblings are getting along well, they’ll often play a game where Andrew dramatically overpraises Ashley while she demands more; it’s a comedic bit but I mean — it really does matter to her!

For the record, she opened a door. She gets a little heart in a speech bubble after this exchange.

We have a great example of this dynamic, that of insecurity and affirmation, in Episode 1, after Andrew has killed for her, butchered for her, his girlfriend broke up with her, he’s seemingly thrown his entire life away for her… she’s still insecure over her relationship with him, she’s uncertain of her control and she needs him to reaffirm it for her.

This is her victory, surely?

Andrew affirms her once, with his usual dead-eyed look.

But she's still not so sure.

He actively reaches out to affirm her again with cheer.

Look how happy she is!

While it’s most obvious and clear cut here, it’s hardly the only case. Let’s look back to the aftermath of Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!! (I’m not using the other name). Leyley is, after similarly extreme acts — he murdered a girl and hid her body for her — convinced Andy doesn’t like her and she needs this leverage to keep him around, to meet her basic needs for survival. Because that’s what this is — she receives no care of affection elsewhere, so she forces it out of the only source she sees available through the means she sees as necessary.

I really hope we see some of their earlier childhood in Episode 3

What exactly made her like this? Was it just neglect, or something more specific…

She needs this to be the case because otherwise she doesn’t believe he’d stay.

This pattern repeats throughout — Ashley’s insecurities are hit on and she reaches out to Andy to affirm that she is not alone, and she will use any and every tool to exploit her ostensible control over him and force him to be what she needs him to be — and as long as she has that, as long as she is everything to him and it’s not possible for him to leave, she’s happy. As long as she thinks he loves her in her very particular, very peculiar view of love, she’s content, come what may. As long as Andy and Leyley are together, they can take on the world.

Let’s talk about that view of love, because there’s always more layers to unpack here I’m only scratching the surface with this essay — Ashley consistently refers to anyone else Andrew may have befriended or spent time with as a whore, a slut, a bitch — highly gendered insults that bring to mind the idea that he’s cheating in some way. But it’s not even about sex — when Andrew mentions that their parents had friends, she accuses them of cheating on each other in the same way!

There’s a lot to unpack about Ashley’s view of femininity and the role the patriarchy plays in their relationship.

Any kind of emotional engagement, any kind of commitment, any kind of life outside of your significant other is, to Ashley, cheating. Because that’s what she needs from Andrew, a seeming complete and total commitment, secure in her place as the only thing in his life, because she cannot understand anyone picking her if they have a choice.

This insecurity she has in her relationship is what drives her to empower the trinket — he can’t leave her as long as she can protect him with prophetic dreams, after all. She needs every kind of leverage she can get because until she succeeds in being everything to him, in devouring him so completely she has him in her thrall mind, body and soul she can’t be sure of herself — hell, her dream sequence in Burial has you placing Andrew’s signature green plushy, ‘the best thing in the world’ in a cage far away from anything else.

Ultimately, it really is all about Ashley — even her seeming obsession with Andrew ultimately comes back to her own insecurities. If she is everything to ‘the best thing in the world’, some of that ‘best’ must surely reflect on her! 

But that’s enough about the more normal, straightforward and understandable sibling. 

That was not a joke.

Andrew’s Rank 100 Deception

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.

Let me explain.

You might have noticed that in the previous section I often use language such as ‘ostensibly’ or ‘seemingly’ to describe Andy and Leyley’s relationship, and there’s a good reason for that. From the beginning of the game through to its end, Andrew is lying to you, the player, without ever falsely representing or misinforming you about events that occurred.

The common, or obvious ‘initial take’ on Andrew as presented in Episode 1 is fairly straightforward. The game primes you to think this way, it frames things and strings reveals just right so as to make it very easy to overlook the incongruities it introduces in Episode 2. He’s a victim. Plain and simple, Ashley is his abuser and he is her victim and would be fine, a normal albeit kinda depressed guy without her.

It really is not a difficult conclusion to draw

You can go all the way through the game, have him try to accept his mother’s olive branch and enter the Decay route as a method for him to finally actualise his desire to get out from Ashley’s thumb and it makes sense, it’s a reasonable way for the story to go, given his character.

You see him this way because the game primes you in Episode 1 to view their relationship like Andrew does — he’s lying. He’s lying to himself, he’s lying to Ashley and he’s so good at it — Deception Rank 100 — he even lies to you. Without misrepresenting a single event or otherwise misleading you directly, the game gets you to buy into his preferred self-perception. Nina? Ashley. Julia? Ashley. The murders they commit in the course of the game? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, it’s not his fault he’s not to blame he’s just a doormat at the beck and call of his demonic sister.

But he wants to be there. From the very outset, the very first puzzle, that’s made clear. Does anyone else remember this exchange, from right at the beginning of the game?

Ashley wants to investigate the music!

Andrew disapproves…

…Or does he?! 

Like. Listen. Okay. You do not frown when saying ‘Nope’ and then smile when saying that you’ll instead tag along if they do it if your heart is at all in the no. That’s not an objection, that’s using Ashley as his excuse. Especially if you immediately throw her the balcony key that she could not possibly have gotten from you by force (more on Andrew’s ability to use force later).

This is the very first time you control both characters together with Andrew following Ashley instead of off on his own, the first adventure, the first puzzle! 

But put a pin in that for now, let’s talk about his initial framing in Episode 2 first. Episode 1 has set us up to, generally speaking, believe the superficial framing of the siblings as portrayed in its promotional art:

The question that we then ask, right at the heart of it is… why is he a doormat? We explore this in his dream sequence in Episode 2, which does make it clear that the boy’s not okay but— it’s real easy, given the priming from Episode 1 to make you think that he’s the one with the originally functional moral compass, to think that that him being fucked up is damage done to him by Nina’s death and being bound to Ashley for his entire life. She corrupted him.

But, well, is that the case?

You're primed to ignore this as manipulation (which it is) but the best manipulation has some truth to it.

Precisely two things spur Andrew to action in the entire game, consistently — they are the fear of consequences and Ashley. And the first incident of that fear, the very first time we’re shown his seeming moral compass as a kid — the first time it’s really hammered home that it’s a fear of consequences rather than any true moral qualms is after Nina’s death. And why does he fear consequences here?

……

The ‘natural’ read that many take away from this sequence, particularly those who have only played Decay, is that Ashley browbeat him into doing this against his will, using emotional blackmail to overwhelm his objections, and then used the event itself to bind him to her forever as her personal doormat.

In a strict sense, this is true. But this doesn’t match up with the details, something the game uses shock to encourage you to overlook. That outburst is before any kind of threat has been made, and absolutely nothing either of them say anything about it being morally bad until Ashley weaponises ‘you’re a bad person’ against Andrew — morality didn’t seem to enter his mind or the equation at all until Ashley brought it up. More than that, his greatest fear and driving motivation even prior to that is, as shown above, being taken away from Ashley.

She, of course, recognises this and uses it against him. But she never needed to, it didn’t change anything about Andrew’s attachment to her, it was there to address her own insecurities.

Just like to touch on how a lot of his affirmations are preceded by him confirming her insecurities.

I adore this phrasing

There’s a second prong to this as well, to the question of ‘who really calls the shots here’ because — Andrew can, at any stage, apply an ‘ultimate veto’ of physical violence. The game is very clear to the player that that is on the table — even when they were children, when Andy swears their blood oath, he briefly considers killing her — and take note of how he ultimately got a ‘winning’ condition out of her by not specifying there wouldn’t be others and she is forced to accept that, there. Even outside of their most serious confrontations, Ashley is portrayed as having to convince, manipulate or otherwise coerce Andrew into going along with her schemes — she really can’t make him do anything, she doesn’t have the supremacy in violence and, to a lesser extent, capability that would allow her to. 

Andrew, you are like ten years old.

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this. He needs her.

But it’s true that he hates her, too. He has to hate her, because if he doesn’t hate her, if he isn’t forced to have done this, that means… he’s responsible. And nothing, at the start of the story, is as important to Andrew as avoiding the consequences of his own actions, not even Ashley. By the midpoint, he loves her, he hates her, he can’t live without her, he wants to kill her — by the end… well, that depends if you’re on Decay or Burial, but more on that in a bit.

A great scene to study for this dynamic is the climax of Episode 1, when Andrew grabs Ashley by the throat and considers strangling her to death. She’s pushed him too far with hurtful words and assault, and he’s seemingly had enough.

It’s still framed as a question of risk, of consequences happening to him. 

Like, this is not the usual behaviour of someone who’s been pushed past their breaking point.

He tells Ashley that he wants to kill her, because she’s just going to throw another fit and that’s a risk to him. She is… not framed as being able to fight back (she does have a gun here, and more on that in a later essay, maybe). He’s so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence here, which isn’t at all what you’d expect of someone about to commit a crime of passion… but it’s very easy to overlook because of the abuser/victim narrative that the player fits his behaviour into the narrative that the game primes them to accept, brushing incongruities under the carpet.

At the start of Episode 2, we get to control Andrew for the first time, and the first obvious holes in his cover start to show. Some of this is optional — you only learn that he’s been faking having nightmares in order to share a bed with Ashley if you choose to go back into the motel room and check the bed, for example — but not all of it.

----(See reblogs for the second half)

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 6

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.3K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, no smut, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, b*tch, etc.), fluff, dirty talk, choking, Dom/Sub(brat)~relationship established

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“So, where yo’ man at? He still ain't back yet?” asked Monica. We had been on the phone chatting all morning. “I guess on the lake. He's still probably fishing,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Oh, so he out fishing, and you at home being all domestic and shit. Okay, housewife!” Monica laughed. “Shut the hell up,” I laughed.

I had been cooking all morning since Terry left. I packed his lunch in a cooler before making breakfast earlier that morning. “So, we cooking three meals a day now?” she said being messy. “Listen, you messy whore. Stop picking on me,” I said, smacking my lips. I turned back to the stove and stirred the pot of collard greens. “You right! I'll leave you alone,” Monnie said.

I walked to the fridge and pulled out the variety of shredded cheeses I bought. I poured all of them into a glass bowl I placed on the counter. Since it was too soon to cook it, I only wanted to start preparing the macaroni and cheese for now.

“We both know you're lyin’!” I said into the phone. “Girl, it's just crazy seein’ you like this. It's so fuckin' cute. You all soft and shit,” she said giggling. “Whatever!” I yelled back while rolling my eyes. “You and I both know you ain't never did no shit like this. I'm used to Big Mama who be pressin’ niggas. Now, yo’ ass in the house cookin’ for one,” she hollered. I scoffed at her remark. Was I really that down bad?

I opened the oven and checked on the cornbread. The sweet smell of honey wafted through the air. I lightly pressed the top of the bread checking the firmness. I put on an oven mitt and pulled it from the oven. I sat it on a towel on the counter. “Girl, I wish you could see this cornbread. It's beautiful,” I said smiling. “Only you would call cornbread beautiful. Keep teasing me, and imma pull up, bitch. I'll bring my own Tupperware, so don't worry!” she cackled. “So, you just gone show up to eat, then leave?” I asked. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? Y'all too busy playin’ house and shit!” Monnie stated.

“You know what? Fuck you! I'm getting off the phone,” I snorted. “That's right! You betta have Mister’s plate on that table by the time he make it home. Oh, and bring me back a niece or nephew while you at it,” she giggled. “Bye, and it's still fuck you!” I said, hanging up the phone.

At this point, I was floating through the kitchen— mixing Mac and cheese, stirring collard greens, frying and flipping chicken, and whipping up a banana pudding. It felt so good to be in my happy place.

4 hours later ~ around 7 p.m.

Rinsing off the day, Terry was upstairs taking a shower, and I was finishing the final touches for dinner. The mac and cheese was browned to perfection. The collard greens were flavorful and savory. The fried chicken was chef’s kiss. The cornbread smelled like heaven. The banana pudding was just waiting in the fridge. I had outdone myself. Maybe Monnie was right. Was I in my housewife era? Had Terry put me in soft girl mode? Ah, shit!

As I reached to retrieve the plates from the cabinet, I felt something press against my back. “I got it, mama. Let me,” Terry said, reaching over me. “Thank you,” I said, kissing his cheek. He put the plates down on the counter in front of me. “Shit, I didn't realize you had done all this. You really weren't playin’, huh?” Terry asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. He leaned over and started planting small kisses on my neck.

“If you wanna eat, you gotta leave me alone. The plates haven't even hit the table,” I giggled while shrugging my shoulder to get him to stop. “It’s a shame that a man can't have dessert before dinner,” he said, turning me around to face him. He pressed his body against mine and trapped me against the counter. “Terry, you promised to behave. Come on!” I said, pushing my hip towards him. “No, I promised to try. I did. I swear, but you look so damn good,” he said, placing his arms on the counter beside me. I whined and scrunched my face. Did I want to fuck Terry’s brains out? Yes! However, I had also spent all day cooking his favorite meal and dessert.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Ah, mama! Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I asked you to cook for me, and you did just that. Thank you, love,” he said pulling me into him. His lips crashed into mine. He held my face in his hands and tilted my head to look him in the eyes. “Forgive me?” he asked flashing that devious smile. This sneaky bastard knew how to get me. “Yes, now move!” I said nudging him away from me.

Terry reached for the plate in front of me. “I said move. Didn't I? That means sit down, Terry!” I said rolling my eyes and laughing. I turned towards the counter, blocking him. “My bad. I don’t know what it is, but you knowin’ yo’ way around a kitchen like this makes me wanna…,” he said backing away from me. “Makes you wanna what?” I questioned as I turned around to look at him. Terry’s eyes lingered on my face and slowly dropped to my abdomen. A smile so sinister spread over his face. “I know damn well you aren’t suggestin’ that. A baby, Terry?” I scoffed while smiling. “I mean… You love me, right?” he asked while sitting at the table.

“First, it was Monnie talkin’ about bring her back a niece or nephew. Now, you! I can't deal with this. Why does everybody want me to get pregnant?” I laughed. “I don't know Monnie’s reasons because I wouldn't trust her to watch a pot of boiling water. However, I know mine, and I have… well,… many,” he said leaning back against the kitchen chair. He raised his arms so that they rested across the back. “And what might those be? Hm? I really wanna know, sir. Tell me,” I said as I turned to the food waiting on the stove.

“Don't worry about it, Mama. Just know I haven't found a reason not to. I'm just waitin' on you,” he said smiling. “Yo’ ass gone be waitin' a long ass time, too. A baby? Terry, you can't be serious!” I squealed. “A long ass time, huh? That's what you think. Imma get one out of you, ‘Vana. Best believe, I'm not gone have to trap you to do it either,” he cackled. “You know what? I'm not doin' this with you!” I said beginning to plate the food.

20 minutes later

“Done, baby?” I asked Terry while standing with my plate in my hand. “Uh,… Yeah,’’ Terry said. “You sound unsure. Baby, I ain't gone ever tell you you can't have more,” I said placing my plate in the sink. Terry’s eyes rose to meet my backside. His eyes lingered on my ass since my back was still turned. “More of what?” Terry asked biting his lip. I could sense a hint of something in his voice. I peeked over my shoulder to see him watching me. I giggled at his antics. “Terry? You know I can see you, right?” I said walking back to the table. I leaned over so that my face was close to his. If this was the game he wanted to play, let’s do it!

“Mmm. Why you playin’ wit’ me, ‘Vana?” he said shifting in his seat. “It’s easy,” I responded. “Oh, really?” he said licking his lips. I could feel his breath on my face. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. I could tell he was becoming more aroused by the second. “You never answered my question, honey. Do you want more?” I asked squatting down in front of him. “And you never answered mine. More of what?’” Terry asked as he leaned up to gently grab my chin. “You want my honest answer?” I asked placing my hands on his knees.

Terry's eyes watched my hands. “Of course, I want honesty, mama. Talk to me,” he said letting his thumb stroke my cheek. “If Daddy wants more, he can have whatever the fuck he wants,” I said trailing my hands up his thighs. Terry’s movements stilled, and his eyes shot up to my face. His eyes clouded with lust and darkened with desire.

Terry’s grip on my chin tightened as he used it to pull me forward. My knees hit the floor so I was kneeling in front of him. I leaned over and let my cheek rest on his growing erection. “Mamas, don't start something you can't finish. If you aren't ready for this, find you something safe to do,” he said. “The fuck is that supposed to mean,” I snapped as I looked up at him. “Aye, watch yourself. You heard me, little girl. I meant what I said,” he said grabbing my chin again. “Me? A little girl? Does someone need a reminder of who the fuck I am?” I asked leaning back on my calves and folding my arms across my chest. “You got one more cuss word before I…,” he said lowering his eyes into slants.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was initiating “playtime”. The excitement of the unknown pulsed through my veins. I was about to allow Terry to fully indulge in his needs and wants. I calmed my breathing before looking up at Terry again. “Before you what? You ain't gonna do shit, and we both know it. There ain't shit you can give that I can’t take,” I said fully committing to brat mode.

“You sure you wanna take this route? Once we begin, there's no turning back. You know that, right?” Terry asked leaning over me. His posture had changed and so had his energy. His shoulders were stiff and squared. It was as if his body was blanketing my entire aura and being. I sat for a minute contemplating my next move. How could I outdo myself?

I smiled as a thought crept into my head. I pulled my hands away and placed them in my lap. With the confidence of a goddess, I said, “You created this monster. Deal with it.” Terry's breathing halted before a smirk spread across his face. His hands instantly grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head. “You got a lotta mouth, lil mama. I don't like that. I don't like it all,” he said tightening his grip. I moaned loudly. I could feel a puddle growing in my panties.

I was fully committed to my role as a brat. I laughed at Terry in an attempt to piss him off. That was having little to no effect on him. I knew I had to make him execute his fantasy to the fullest. I took a deep breath before speaking. “Fuck all that! What you trying to do, huh?” I asked biting my lip and cocking my head to the side.

All sentiments of expression left Terry’s face, and his body grew in anger. His hand quickly left my hair and found my throat. He squeezed tight enough for my breathing to stop. Ironically, all I could think about was how good this felt. My pussy quivered and ached as I released what felt like a mini orgasm. It soaked through my panties as he loosened the grip he had on my throat. “Look at you. Daddy’s little slut. You just couldn't help yourself, huh? That’s fine, mama. Just know this— when we get in that room, I’m gone turn yo thick ass every which way but loose. Don't run. Don't speak. Don't touch shit. It's my turn. Got it?” he said, releasing me with a push.

I looked up at Terry with big doe eyes before speaking again. “Yes, Big Daddy. I understand,” I said while struggling to hide my excitement. “Oh, you think those pretty brown eyes gone help you, huh? Ha! Too late for that. I’m trying to see the monster I created. Bring her out. Fuck all that cute shit!” he said leaning back into the chair. “But…” I started. “Aye, I don't remember asking you to speak. The only thing I want you to do with that there pretty mouth of yours is to suck, lick, slob, swallow, and do it again. You nasty, bitch!” Terry demanded.

As if activated on cue, I could feel the heat between my legs. I wanted this man’s hands all over me. RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! It was Terry’s turn to indulge in his fantasy as a dom. I loved the idea since he would show hints of it sometimes. His only request was not to be easy. He didn't want me to fully submit without any pushback. He liked the idea of me talking shit and provoking him. Terry’s plan involved leaning into a darker side of himself that he had never completely let out, and I trusted him enough to agree to do it. I felt he deserved this moment especially since he didn't judge me about mine.

So, let’s see where tonight takes us.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @insidefeelingofanadult @creartivefairy @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo

@skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho @pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk

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@onherereading @blyffe @beenathembo @helloncrocs @thiccc-c @persethegawd

[inkpot909]

Falling for an Oblivious Reader Headcanons

↳ Characters included are Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: Exploring these guys’ inability to spit it the hell out was extremely fun. What a couple of disaster men.

Warning(s): None.

Johnny Joestar

At first, he’ll wonder if he’s just out of practice.

Johnny’s never been interested in someone so oblivious they miss every little hint or flirtatious remark he throws their way. Having been a famous jockey, people used to flock to him; he hardly needed to even try.

But by the time of the Steel Ball Run, he hasn’t been with anyone romantically in a good while. He could count how many years since, but he would rather not keep track.

And you’re not exactly making things easy for him.

Going about your day looking the way you do… and then having the audacity to not pick up a single signal from him (Or anyone else for that matter). Honestly, it should be illegal.

Johnny’s natural instinct, unfortunately, is to immediately assume he’s not what’s clicking. Lord, am I… not being obvious enough? he often wonders.

It’d be one thing if you wanted to outright reject him; he can handle rejection (No, really, he can). It’s just the way the horse gallops sometimes.

But you don’t even seem to notice at all and that’s what’s so frustrating to him.

Just thinking of it can make annoyance fester inside his mind. Gyro throws him a knowing look whenever it’s visibly getting to him; to you it just seems like his mood spikes at random.

His annoyance isn’t directed at you, of course, but at himself (As much as he outwardly blames you, it’s really just a front).

Has he really lost his ‘skills?’ Did the passing years make him completely forget how to flirt with someone? Gyro seems really keen on telling him that’s the case.

And Johnny is nothing if not contrarian to everything Gyro says.

The guy is bending over backwards, doing anything he can do to try to impress you. All while Gryo is not-so-subtly ragging on him over it in the background.

“Quit it! For the love of God-“

“Awe, c’mon Johnny, it’s not like they’re noticing anyways!”

Johnny hates how right Gyro can be.

He’s metaphorically tripping over himself left and right, feeling like he’s at the same level of a clueless middle schooler desperately trying to seem ‘cool’ in front of a crush. Gyro’s damn near crying of laughter at his struggle to make you get it…

But all you do is just stand to the side. Smiling kindly, and blinking without an ounce of procession of his actual intent behind your pretty eyes.

Agony… Johnny Joestar is in pure agony… you’re lucky he finds you cute.

You’re so frustratingly oblivious he can’t even tell if you might like him back, and at this point he’s honestly just trying to get a read on your feelings before he spells it out for you bluntly.

Such an approach is needed with you, apparently.

It’s around this time too that he realizes… Holy shit, they’re really just that oblivious.

Someone else approached you at a bar during one of your numerous stops during the race. Both Johnny and Gyro knew exactly what they were getting at the moment they walked over, a sly smile presented on their face.

All while you sipped from your drink, your expression and tone of voice so casual one might assume your simply discussing the weather.

Johnny isn’t ashamed to admit he felt a sense of pride as the person ultimately walked off, giving up.

Luckily for you, Johnny is not.

You’ve stolen his heart so completely without even trying… he can admit to himself it’s a beautiful thing- if he detaches himself from his own frustration.

He’s going to keep trying to get you notice; try to get a read on however you feel about him. Even if it takes him the entire Steel Ball Run to do so!

And, yes, it does take that long.

Gyro Zeppeli

So what, you didn’t notice the first time he winked at you? It was real sunny out that day- the light probably shined in your eye and made you miss it.

Whatever, if his first flirtation or two ultimately fell on deaf ears. Statistically speaking, not every line is going to land the way he wants.

Who cares if his apparent interest in you is obvious to literally every one other than you? It’s your loss, to be honest.

Not that he really cares.

And you know what? He doesn’t care so much he’ll snap at Johnny for bringing it up. He’s not bothered by it… so why does the guy feel the need to mention his failed attempts at showing interest? Really, it’s just a little annoying the jockey thinks it matters to him at all.

… it should go without saying that he does not handle the frustration well at all in the beginning.

He won’t necessarily blame himself.

He is aware of his own ability to flirt, and his past has granted him a sense of confidence in it. Gyro’s certainly the forward type, and knows that.

Yet, everything he says or does seems to go right over your pretty head. It’s a not a notion meant to flatter you either- one he keeps to himself with pouted lips and arms crossed.

It’s a rather childish anger directed towards you, but it doesn’t last too long.

Eventually, he also comes to the (Begrudging) conclusion that he really cannot blame you. Gyro realizes this around the same time he figures his liking of you goes far deeper than a casual fling.

And if anything, he’s going to start directing his frustration towards the people in your past.

Clearly, no one’s really hit on you before… or worse, something happened to you that made you think no one ever would- so thick-headed in that belief that you don’t even perceive it.

It’s in Gyro’s nature to let his mind ponder the ‘why’ behind your obliviousness- especially when he thought he was being so obvious about it.

Either possibility makes him want to find whoever contributed to your inability to pick up a signal, grab them by the shoulders, and shake them violently.

But with time, he’s going to find it endearing (Not that he’s ever admit it out loud).

Look at you… riding your prized horse as if you’re not the most beautiful person in the Steel Ball Run. And the smirk doesn’t at all falter even when the three of you stop at a dingy town for the night.

“I’ve had three strangers walk up to me since we entered the saloon… the people in this town are so friendly!”

“Y/n, dear, they’re all trying to hit on you.”

“What? No way! They just wanted to talk about the race over a drink or two. One of them said they had gin from France up in his hotel room. Can you believe that? Sounds delicious, right?”

“… good lord, Y/n.”

It’d be funnier if he wasn’t another trying and failing to flirt his way into making you open your damn eyes.

At some point, Gyro just has to spit it out.

It comes during the climax of one of the race’s many stopping points. It’d been looming over his mind for weeks, and if someone were to ask him (Okay, if Johnny asks him) he would bitterly grumble that it’s been affecting his scores.

His logic behind doing this at specifically that point in time… flawless.

How are you going to blissfully remain in the dark if he’s shouting his confession at you from the finish line in front of a large group of confused onlookers?

They just wanted to see the race… not one of the top contestants with a heavy Italian accent declaring his love for you while damn-near standing on top of his horse.

[baptismbaby]

† GOD, FORGIVE ME PT. 3

mean! ellie x innocent! reader a/n: will post to ao3 baptismsbaby. sorry if this is a little rushed. smoked a blunt and brain is still fuzzy. unsure how i feel about the ending hope yall like it anyways warnings: toxic! ellie, degrading, praise, pup used as a petname, oral (ellie! receiving), strap usage (r! receiving), slight edging, possessive! ellie, reader is gagged at some point if anyone hates that creds to elliesgalaxy for ellie pic wc: 3.4k<3 part one part two

Six months had passed since you first hooked up with Ellie.

Looking back, you had changed drastically since that night. You used to be so strict with religion and refused to have any fun. It took a month of hooking up with Ellie to finally get over it and realize you could be a Christian and still have fun. I mean, it was the apocalypse. Rules haven’t existed in over twenty five years.

In the beginning, you were constantly telling Ellie “this is the last time.” She’d look at you with a teasing smile and that glint in her eye. She’d laugh it off, always saying the same shit. “You need me.” You’d go back, giving more and more of yourself up to her. Whatever she wanted, you gave to her. The more sex the two of you had, the better the friendship outside of the hookups got. Dina was extremely happy to finally hang out with both of you without the bickering. You loved Ellie outside of the sex. She had her moments still but she was the funniest person you’ve ever met. You wished she could be that way with you alone sometimes. You knew you had to hide your feelings if it meant getting to sleep with Ellie but it was difficult. Whether there was a party at Jesse’s or her place, she’d tell everyone in the smoke circle how bad she would want to fuck some random girl at the party. Ellie didn’t, of course. She’d just say that to get a rise out of you so she could tease you about it later. It hurt but you refused to let it show if it meant risking not being able to see Ellie anymore.

It was another night of partying for everyone and the girls were at your place getting ready. Ellie sat on your bed, wearing a brown flannel and some jeans. Since the weather had gotten warmer, she had trimmed her hair a bit. The way the choppy layers fell in her face sometimes made you blush. She looked so good.

“I’m thinking about wearing something super revealing,” said Dina, going through the dresses she’d find on patrol. “I need Jesse to be jealous.”

“I give it a week,” mumbled Ellie.

“I am not getting back with him!”

“You said that the last time,” you pointed out.

“And the time before that.”

“The time before that time too.”

Dina hit you and Ellie with the dress she was holding. “Stop it you two, I get it! I mean it this time.”

You looked back at Ellie who was already staring at you with a smirk. Dina groaned and continued to look for clothes while you laughed.

“The little being silent but talking with the eyes thing gets on my nerves,” complained Dina. She handed you a dress to wear and you held it up to your body. It was white and silky with a little lace trim at the bottom.

“That’s a little short,” said Ellie.

“Yeah, which is perfect. She needs to get some finally.”

Ellie shot a glare at the back of Dina’s head but neither of you noticed.

“I’ll try it on and see.”

You began to undress, turned away from Ellie. You could see her watching you through the mirror. You weren’t wearing a bra but was wearing a see through pink thong.

“Woah, where’d you find that? It’s so cute,” complimented Dina.

“I found it on one of my patrols a couple months ago.”

Actually, Ellie had found it for you.

You slipped into the dress and turned around, seeing your ass hanging out at the back. “Okay, maybe this is a bit much but it’s super cute.”

“Damn, I would so fuck you,” Dina remarked. “Please wear that to the party. At least five girls are gonna throw themselves at you.”

“Eh, that’s probably too much, Dina. We see the same people every time anyways. No one new to impress. Do you have something else for her?” asked Ellie. You raised an eyebrow at her, wondering why she was being like this.

“I have some more but-”

“I want to wear this, it’s fine,” you interrupted. 

“Okay cool, we ready to go?”

Everyone nodded and started to head out. Dina made it down the stairs first, leaving you and Ellie at the top. Dina was grabbing stuff to put in her bag so she didn’t see Ellie grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards her. She wrapped an arm around you and used her other hand to hold your hair. Her lips brushed against your ear. “I fucking told you it was too short. Are you trying to piss me off?”

You sighed, tilting your head to the side further as she ran her fingers down your neck to your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t care if you wore that for me but in front of everybody? Are you fucking kidding me? You get a taste of my cock and now you’re a slut? Don’t even think about coming by tonight.”

She shoved you forward roughly. You stumbled but quickly stood up straight, spinning around to give Ellie a dirty look. “Stop it,” you whispered harshly. “You’ll be over it by the time the party's over.”

“I mean it,” Ellie hissed. “Don’t speak to me for the rest of the night. Whores don’t get rewarded when they don’t listen. Fucking brat, you know better.”

Ellie walked past you down the stairs, leaving you dumbfounded and angry. You stomped down and grabbed one of the bottles from the table to drink on the way there.

“Woah, pregaming?” questioned Dina.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a long night.”

-

You were miserable at the party. It had been ten minutes since the three of you arrived and Ellie was acting like such a bitch. You sat by her on the couch while everyone passed around a blunt. She kept skipping you, telling the others you weren’t participating.

“Dina, give me the fucking blunt,” you demanded once it reached her for the third time.

“You’re not smoking.”

“Yes I am, Ellie. Even if it means I have to roll my own.”

Dina squinted at the both of you in confusion. If she was an outsider, she would’ve thought the two of you were a couple in an argument. But it was just you and Ellie. No way there was something going on.

“You can’t even fucking roll,” Ellie insulted. You leaned forward to see another smoke circle across the living room. 

“I’ll just join Jesse’s smoke circle. Sorry, Dina.”

You got up, pulling your dress down before walking over to Jesse’s group. You made sure to swing your hips a bit in case Ellie was watching.

“Why are you two arguing again?” Dina asked Ellie once you left.

“It’s nothing.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the two of you were fucking.”

Ellie took the blunt from Dina and puffed on it. “No way,” she declined. “You couldn’t pay me to fuck church girl.”

“I’d do it for free,” Ellie’s friend said next to her. When she passed the blunt to him, she made sure to elbow him hard in the side. “Ow! The fuck, Ellie?!”

“She’s gay.”

He frowned in disappointment. “Aw man, all the hot chicks are.”

Dina couldn’t stop eyeing Ellie. She was acting strange. Back at yours, she kept telling you to put something different on. Now she’s watching you intently from across the room as you do the thing she told you not to do. At that moment, everything clicked for Dina. Ellie liked you.

“So, what’s the deal between you and Dina?” you asked Jesse as you passed him the joint.

“Shit, I don’t know. Pretty sure we’re over for good.”

“That sounded convincing,” you said sarcastically.

Jesse made a face at you while he crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? What about you and Ellie? You follow her around like a lost puppy.”

“We’re friends now.”

“The way you look at her is not how you look at Dina. It’s how I look at Dina.”

As he spoke, his eyes landed on her from across the room. “Look at her. Talking up some other guy to piss me off. Ellie is staring at you. She looks jealous. I’d know.”

You glanced back but Ellie quickly averted her gaze. You sighed and looked down at your hands in your lap. You wanted to say something so badly but knew that Ellie would end it with you if you told anyone. A girl came and sat next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. “Hey,” she slurred. “Wanna dance with me?”

You looked up at Ellie who’s brows were furrowed in anger. You grinned and stood up, grabbing the girl’s hand. You led her to an open spot on the floor and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around you as you started grinding against her with the beat of the music.

“I’m Grace,” she introduced herself. “You hang with Ellie and Dina, right?”

You nodded, too busy watching Ellie as her face grew red.

“You’re super pretty. You do a lot of that church stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded dryly. You turned around so your back was pressed against her chest. Her hands rushed up and down your body until she grabbed your tits. You shoved them off and looked back at her. “Don’t,” you demanded. 

Grace saw movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see Ellie speedwalking towards you. Grace let go of you and ran off. You were perplexed, wondering if maybe you came off as rude. You felt hands grab you and start shoving you towards a door.

“Hey, what the hell?”

You were pushed into a bathroom. The door slammed and you spun around to see Ellie locking the door. “Ellie!”

Ellie shot daggers at you with her eyes, which meant you needed to be quiet. She pushed you against the wall and held you there with a knee between your thighs. Her hands went over your mouth to stifle any sounds you were making.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She started to unbuckle her jeans, still covering your mouth. They dropped around her ankles to reveal the strap she was wearing over her boxers.

“You’re mine and mine only. This pussy,” she growled as she grabbed your clothed cunt tightly, “belongs to me.”

She kneeled down to yank your panties off. 

“E-Ellie, I’m s-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She balled your panties up and held them up to your face. “Open.”

“What?”

“Open your fucking mouth!”

You obeyed and parted your lips slightly. She sighed in frustration and reached out to pull it open further, shoving the panties into your mouth.

“This will keep you quiet,” she muttered. “You’re really dumb, you know that? Good girls don’t try to make their girlfriends jealous.”

Before you could even react, she bent you over the sink and shoved her cock inside of you. You let out a muffled groan, the feeling of her filling you up taking you by surprise. She fucked you hard but painfully slow. She’d thrust in, wait a couple seconds then do it again. 

“I want you to watch,” she commanded. She grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head up so you could look in the mirror. You could see Ellie behind you with an angry expression on her face. “Stupid girl, you will never find better than me. Get that through your fucking skull.”

She sped up, making you squeal even louder. She placed both of her hands over your mouth as she pounded into you harder.

“Fuck,” Ellie whimpered. “Fuck, you look so good like this.”

Ellie noticed your legs started to shake as you felt your climax getting closer.

“You wanna cum baby?”

You whined, pushing yourself back against her so you could finish. Ellie pulled out of you and turned you around. She lifted you up onto the sink and started kissing up and down your neck. Ellie took your panties out of your mouth, shoving her tongue down your throat.

You tried to pull away to speak but Ellie grabbed your head to keep you still. Her strap would brush against your cunt, eliciting a moan from you.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?" Ellie asked when she pulled away. You shook your head no. “That’s right, baby. You’ve been so mean to me tonight. You’re lucky I’m even fucking you right now.”

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” you murmured. “I shouldn’t have danced with that girl. I belong to you.”

“You say you’re sorry but you have to prove it to me… get on your knees.”

You obliged and kneeled down, opening your mouth expecting her to fuck it with the strap. Instead, she slid out of the harness and her boxers simultaneously and set them down on her pants.

“I want you to make me cum.”

You were shocked. Ellie never let you touch her and she was going to let you eat her out? You didn’t know if you could do it since she never taught you. You didn’t want to disappoint Ellie.

“I’ll guide you through it, pup. It’s okay,” she assured you as if she read your mind.

Ellie leaned back against the wall as your face went towards her pussy. You stuck your tongue out and swiped it up her slit. Ellie shook a little, reaching down and grabbing your hair. “Move your tongue in circles,” she said.

You slowly moved your tongue in a circle on her clit, savoring the taste of her. You looked up at Ellie who was biting her lip to stay quiet.

“T-That’s it,” she praised. “My g-good girl.”

You sped it up a bit once you got used to it, Ellie’s legs trembling against you.

“Fuck!” she panted. “Just like t-that, pup. You’re doing s’ well.”

You decided to stick a finger inside her to watch her reaction. She grabbed the end of her shirt and bit the fabric, trying hard to not make a sound. You picked up the pace, curling your finger as she struggled to stay standing.

“I’m right there baby, don’t stop.”

She gripped your hair and yanked you away once her orgasm hit. She trembled as she started to come down, your hair still tangled between her fingers. Ellie pulled you up and slammed her lips against yours, the two of you desperate to taste each other.

She lifted you up onto the sink again and brushed a finger against your clit.

“You’re so good at making me feel good, baby. I bet you could make yourself feel good too.”

She stepped back and leaned against the door, her arms crossed and a huge smirk on her face. “Come on, touch yourself for me.”

“W-What?”

“I said I wasn’t gonna let you cum but that doesn’t mean I won’t let you finish yourself off while I watch,” said Ellie. She chuckled as your face grew red. “C’mon, I know you can do it.”

“I’ve never tried it, though. I prefer letting you do it.”

“I’m not touching you again until you make yourself cum.”

You whined, feeling too embarrassed to do something like that. You knew that if you refused again, she’d leave you there all alone. You slowly reached your hand between your thighs and pressed your fingers to your clit. You sighed and slowly started to move them in a circle, Ellie eyeing your cunt closely as she licked her lips.

“Atta girl,” she praised. “You like touching yourself for me?”

You didn’t respond. She laughed and grabbed your thigh gently. “You’re shy now, pretty girl? How cute. You were just fucking me and now you can’t even look at me.”

You sped your fingers up the more she spoke to you, soft whines escaping your lips and echoing off the walls.

“Good girl. You put on such a good show for me.”

Your legs shook as a knot began to build in your stomach. “El-Ellie, can I cum please? I-I’m so close.”

“Go on,” confirmed Ellie. You grabbed Ellie’s hand on your thigh and gripped it as your climax took over you.

“Shhhh, baby. That’s it. Be quiet.”

Ellie took your hand and sucked your fingers to get a taste of you. She hummed, wrapping her arms around you to help you stand. “You did so good,” she whispered, holding you close to her body. For some reason, you wanted to cry. Ellie hasn’t comforted you after sex since you lost your virginity, if that was even considered comfort. You melted in her arms and sighed. The warmth of Ellie’s body made your heart ache. You wished so desperately she was like this all of the time. You suddenly remembered what she called you earlier and wondered when you should bring it up. Ellie stepped back and grabbed your panties.

“Let me help you,” she said. Ellie pulled your panties up your legs and tugged your dress down. She quickly fixed your hair with a smile before putting the rest of her clothes back on.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ellie nodded in approval, putting her belt back in the loops and buckling it.

“You said… good girls don’t make their girlfriends jealous.”

“I did.”

“Am I… your girlfriend?”

Ellie shrugged, avoiding your eyes as she tried to focus on anything but you. “Uh… I think that’s up to you. I haven’t asked so… we really aren’t.”

“Are you wanting to ask me?”

“Fuck, why is this so awkward?” Ellie muttered to herself. “I’ve kinda been repressing some feelings towards you for a while now because I wanted this to be a hookup thing and nothing more. But tonight confirmed my feelings for you. Seeing you wearing that dress, knowing people would be eye fucking you… it made me sick. When I saw you dancing with that girl, I was infuriated. Dina kinda figured it out somehow and said I should tell you. I guess I’m not good at hiding my feelings once I have them.”

You smiled. You never thought your feelings for Ellie would be reciprocated. You knew it was hard for her to admit it, which made you like her even more.

“See, I knew something would come out of this!” you exclaimed. Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the shit eating grin that grew on her face.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I was certain that if you knew I liked you, you’d resent me.”

“Pfft, I knew you liked me. You do a shitty job at hiding things. I can’t go anywhere without you trailing behind me. You’re a pain in my ass but in a good way,” Ellie opened the door for you and followed you out. She wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to her.

“So, you wanna ask me?”

“Ugh, no. We’ve said enough for it to be official. You can’t make me say anything.”

“Aw, you’re shy!”

“Shut up…”

Ellie stopped and looked down at you, her thumb slowly brushing against your cheek as her eyes softened. “You were always mine, weren’t you?” she asked. 

“Of course I was.”

“I promise to be nicer. I know I said that last time but I mean it. I like this. You’re not so bad, church girl.”

You chuckled at the nickname. “I guess you’re alright yourself, Els.”

“What if I told you Jesse and Dina are making out behind you right now?”

You turned to look and laughed at the sight. “We already knew it would happen,” you said.

“Yeah. The party is starting to die a little bit. Wanna swing by yours so you can get a few things for the morning?”

“What do you mean?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re spending the night with me.”

“Wait, really?”

“I’m not saying it again. Let’s go,” Ellie said as she dragged you out by the hand. The two of you spent the rest of the night holding each other in Ellie’s bed, talking about anything you could so neither of you would fall asleep. Ellie felt nervous about entering a relationship and still felt some guilt about being such a bitch to you. And yet, something about this felt so right to her. She was okay with changing her ways since you changed for her. Ellie knew she made the right choice and that it would be worth it. You were wrapped around her finger.

[rapturously]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

[sundrop-writes]

Claustrophobia

Isaac Lahey x GN!Reader

Word Count: 800

Teen Wolf Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of the abuse Isaac experienced from his father, mentions of that abuse having a last psychological effect on him (in the form of claustrophobia); Isaac having a panic attack due to his claustrophobia being unexpectedly triggered; this is more of a hurt/comfort fic because the reader helps him calm down. Implications that the reader doesn't know about the existence of werewolves and the supernatural. The reader's gender is not described in any way. Also, I don't know if this is at all sound advice about how to treat someone during a panic attack - not something I am versed in. I think that's it? Not proofread cause I'm on a mental hiatus babey

A/N: I just watched Season 3, Episode 4 (I've been watching two episodes a day and really enjoying the pace of it) and naturally the moment where Isaac gets stuck in the closet called to me like a beacon of whump. So here's this. Also highly recommend pairing this with Claustrophobia by 3OH! 3

...

"Did it have to be a closet?"

Isaac let out a dry chuckle, a seemingly nervous laugh as he eyed up the space apprehensively before stepping inside, putting some of the supplies on one of the shelves.

The two of you began gathering supplies off the cart and loading them into the janitor's closet, carrying out the punishment you had been given. You had been fifteen minutes late to class that morning, and you had heard that Isaac was in detention for fighting - beating up one of the new kids. You knew that since his father died, he had taken on somewhat of a new persona - more bold, more unafraid to get in trouble. But you had a feeling that violence didn't suit him.

It made you wonder what the other guy did to provoke the fight, or what the truth really was. But you felt that it wasn't your place to ask.

"It's not so bad." You remarked, sensing his general anxiety about this activity, but having no clue why.

He seemed fairly confident in every other area of life - he took down guys on the field in lacrosse without even flinching, he walked tall in the halls with confidence (not that you had noticed, not that you stared at him or anything) - it did make you wonder what was so intimidating to him about a closet full of spray bottles and napkins.

"I'm... not so good with small spaces." He remarked quietly, shyly, grabbing some more of the supplies off the cart and stepping inside beside you to begin organzing everything.

Ah. He was claustrophobic. That made sense.

You had heard rumours floating around the school after his father died - you had even heard whispers between Scott and Stiles when they were trying to be subtle in their conversations but had a poor sense of tact. Isaac's father used to lock him in a freezer as punishment, among other things. It was a horror you couldn't imagine.

"You-"

You were about to offer for him to leave, offering to finish up the rest of the work by yourself so that he wouldn't have to be burdened by his anxiety, when the closet door swung shut, slamming closed in a strangely violent manner. Isaac rushed to the door, furiously ripping on the handle, trying to get it open.

"It - it won't open-" He gasped, suddenly sounding terribly out of breath.

He was panicking, likely overtaken by horrible memories that you couldn't even imagine.

"It's okay, it's probably just stuck, I can call someone-" You took your phone out of your pocket, trying to reassure him, but his panicked flailing in the small space, now shouldering against the door, trying to ram it down, knocked your phone out of your hand and cracked the screen.

You didn't know if it was still in working order or not, but you knew it would be wiser to calm him down first.

"Something - something is blocking it from the other side!" He said, his breaths becoming more panicked and frantic as he kept trying to charge the door down - how was he not hurting himself?

He was sweating and shaking, and you ached with sympathy for him.

In Isaac's mind, he was right back there. Locked in darkness, clawing against the tiny, enclosed walls, desperate to get out. He was suffocating, he was running out of air, he was gonna die. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't-

Suddenly, your hand moved against his shoulders, a flat, firm palm rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. The pure gentleness of the touch startled his senses back to reality - there had been nobody to comfort him back then. He collapsed against the door, pressing his forehead into the metal, and deeply against his will, he let out a sob.

"Hey, shh, it's okay." You told him, trying to be as soothing as possible. "You're being so brave-"

"I'm not brave." Isaac choked out. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize." You told him firmly, fighting back your own tears of empathy had how distraught he was. "Come on, sit down. Let's take a minute to calm down and breathe and then we'll find a way out of here."

You helped him onto the floor - he practically collapsed into a sitting position against one of the shelves, his entire body shuddering and shaking. Though he wasn't the most naturally affectionate person in the world, he didn't deny your touches when you cradled his head onto your shoulder and continued to soothingly rub his back.

After a few minutes of silence, save for his whimpers as his tears died down, he spoke up.

"I'm sorry," He apologized again. "I just - my dad..." He trailed off, barely able to voice it.

"It's okay," You told him, and for once in his life - he actually felt okay, here with you, in your arms. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Thank you." He sighed.

When Scott came and got the two of you out of the closet (after Isaac had apologized a dozen more times for cracking your phone screen) - he could sense something in the way Isaac looked at you now, but he didn't say anything about it. Not yet.