#and yes you know i had to draw him in at least one other form while exploring this

[novankenn]

Small Packages (2)

Less than a minute later, a young rabbit faunus was helping Jaune from the floor. Her nose was scrunched up, and Jaune was pretty sure it was from his smell. Not bathing for a week, while sleeping in alleys, and scrounging for food in trash piles, would do that. Or at least he hoped that was the reason. He was pretty sure if she was against him because of his heritage he would finally snap.

"Let's get you in the back so you can get cleaned up, okay?" she commented, giving a warm smile, that look cute even with her nose scrunched up. "I'm velvet by the way. And you?"

"Jaune. Jaune Arc." he replied.

"Looks like you've been having a rough time." Velvet chit-chatted as she guided him past the reception desk into the back rooms. Rooms that Jaune was positive were only for staff, which seemed odd.

"Yeah."

"You can talk to me or any of the other staff about it if you want. It's part of our job here to be a sympathetic ear when needed." she offered as she opened a rather sturdy door. Inside which was a good sized room, with a large bronze wash tub in the center. "This is the bathing room. The privy is the last door at the end of the hallway."

"Thank you?"

"Do you have any clean clothes to change into?" Velvet asked, still giving him her soft smile. "If you don't I can see about get you an shirt, until your clothes can be cleaned."

"I don't have anything clean." Jaune embarrassedly admitted. "A shirt would be nice."

"Okay. There's a draw curtain for privacy, so wash up. I'll put a nightshirt out here for you."

"Thank you... um..."

"Yes, Jaune?"

"Why?"

"I don't follow. Why what?"

"Why are you being so civil with me? I'm a Kit! Worse than just that, I'm a MALE Kit! I don't understand?"

"What you are, makes no difference to me Jaune." Velvet replied. "I was raised better than that, and Matron Goodwitch does not tolerate the miss treatment of others, when she sees it."

"But..."

"Jaune. Have a bath, get cleaned up, and then I'll take you to the Matron." Velvet gave him an even warmer smile. "You obviously came here looking for work, so we'll find you some."

"Thank you." Jaune responded weakly, tears starting to form in his eyes. "Thank you."

An hour later, Jaune found himself seated in the Matron's office. The night shirt Velvet had gotten him was made of plain linen, but do to his size if covered him from his neck to just above his ankles. Do it not being meant to be worn by someone of his stature and ethnicity he was forced to keep his tail curled about his waist, held in place by one of his hands under the shirt.

"Firstly Mr Arc I wish to apologize for how you were treated by members of this Association." Glynda spoke, her eyes staying on Jaune, without the slightest hint of judgement. "Be assured that Mr Winchester and his house are being reprimanded, and in addition I have rescinded their recent skill rank advancement."

"House? Skill rank?" Jaune asked, never having heard those terms used before.

"A house is what we call an organized collective of huntresses and huntsmen." Glynda informed him, "And skill rank is a metric we use to determine a house's potential for succeeding in a task. Higher skill ranks can accept more risky assignments."

"I don't get it." Jaune replied. "How do you figure that type of thing out? I mean do they take a test or something?"

"How it is done, I would say is not of current concern for you." Glynda commented. "I believe employment is. Am I correct?"

"Yes." Jaune replied, adding, "I can't sleep on the streets anymore, and the shops don't want... you know. So this is my last chance to find something."

"I see, and I'm rather upset that you are being forced in this line of work, bigoted fools." Glynda responded. "So in order to help place you, I need to ask some questions. Is that acceptable?"

"Place me?"

"Yes to find houses that could use someone of your abilities."

"I'm not an adventurer, I'm just... just me. Can't I just get hired out by whomever needs and extra set of hands?"

"You could, but doing such without being part of a registered house, means the Association can not be involved when there are contract disputes."

"So if I don't join a house you can't keep fucking huntresses from cheating me."

"While I don't appreciate the language, that is correct." Glynda took a moment before continuing to speak. "I can tell you are not... fond of huntresses, and I assume it's because of situations similar to what you mentioned?"

"Similar?" Jaune scoffed, "If you call getting beaten, used as bait, cheated, robbed, and molested... similar, then yeah I guess."

"I see." Jaune could easily tell Glynda was very close to loosing her temper. "Joining a house will give you recourse against such... incidents, that you bring to our attention."

"And if it's the... house that is the culprits?"

"Then they will inspected, audited, and if the allegations are true they will be disbanded, and punished as appropriate under civil law." Glynda answered. "Now will you answer my questions?"

"Okay."

"Do you have any special skills, or abilities?"

"I'm faunus, so I have night vision, improved senses of hearing and smell."

"Of course. Anything additional?"

"I'm good with locks, can carry about three times my weight in gear, and do it for extended period of time."

"Combat skills? Magic?"

"None." Jaune replied. "I'm a supporter. A pack mule, that's all I've been good for."

"I see." Glynda clasped her hands before her. "I'll be honest with you Mr Arc. With you limited skill set, I will be difficult to find you a house..."

"Figures." Jaune grumbled.

"But not impossible." Glynda continued ignoring Jaune's interruption. "I will have my staff make inquiries, and until such time as we find you a house, or exhaust all options I am granting you temporary lodging here at Beacon."

"What?"

"I will also arrange for a small daily wage for you, if you can assist my staff during the day."

"You're fucking with me!" Jaune snapped. "I'm a Kit and you're acting this nice? You're up to something! Fucking Huntresses, can't fucking..."

"Enough!" Glynda raised her voice ending Jaune's rant. "I am the Matron of this Association. I do not play games, not do I tolerate what you are insinuating!"

Jaune's ears pressed flat against his freshly cleaned hair.

"Now it would behoove you to accept this offer." Glynda spoke her voice once again calm. "But in the end the choice is ultimately yours."

(Part One)

[dalennaugw]

So I WAS gonna wait to upload these here because I'm definitely still stuck on this track from when I first was made aware of these three weeks ago, but then Anet went and dropped that they're actually putting corsets in the game so. I'm just gonna put up what I have for now and the rest as I scratch them out, hahaha.

The timing of my drawing these, relative to these actually appearing, WOULD feel suspicious (in the best way), but I'm aware enough of how long it takes to make new game items to realize they likely thought of this MONTHS ago. I finally just latched onto the train myself just before it left the station, probably.

ANYway here's Bean exploring some new classywear. I will be on mens' corsets brainrot for a while, I think.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I��m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

F.I.N.E || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x teacher!reader Summary: When your student gets injured and you can’t get hold of her parents you try call an old contact number hoping he can help. Warnings: slight angst, fluff WC: 3.4K

Max frowned at the unfamiliar number calling him. If it wasn’t for the fact it was a local number he would have ignored it but since few people had his personal number he decided to answer it. Immediately he was hit with the sound of high pitch cries and a soothing voice softly singing a lullaby that eased the knot of anxiety that had formed in an instant. 

“Hello, is this Max?” you asked when you realised the dual tone had stopped and the call had been answered. You shifted the child carefully on your lap and grabbed the old enrolment form to see the name again. “Max Verstappen?”

“Maxy?” the girl in your arms echoed with confusion.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m one of Penelope’s teachers. There’s been an incident and I found your number under her emergency contact list.”

“Oh no, sorry, there must be a mistake. You should call her mother or father. I’m not, we’re not, um, I shouldn’t be on that list anymore.”

You cringed as another piercing cry deafened your ear and you rubbed the little girl's back. “It hurts,” she whimpered.

“I know, sweetheart, someone will be here to get you shortly,” you replied softly and you hoped it was the truth. “Look, Max, I’ve tried every other contact number and no one is answering. Is there any way you could come down here? At least until I can get in touch with someone else.”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose but when he heard P’s shuddering cry he knew he had to go. “Okay, I’ll be there shortly.”

Max didn’t care if he got a parking ticket, he took the loading space right outside the preschool building. He likely would have gotten a speeding ticket too in his rush to cross the city but thankfully there weren’t any police in his path. 

“Maxy!” 

Penelope wriggled in your arms as she spotted the stranger walking into the classroom. His eyes immediately found her and he crossed the space to where you sat holding her.

“Hey, P,” he greeted with a smile and knelt down at your height. “What’s happened, bug?”

Her little eyes welled up again as she lifted her bandaged wrist. “I fell off the playground.”

“I don’t think anything is broken but I would suggest having her doctor check to be sure.”

“I don’t know who her doctor is. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

“You’re contact details were-”

“Those must have been from when she started. Her mother and I haven’t been together for a while.”

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry to put this on you. I swear I tried every other phone number we have.”

Max nodded and his sigh sounded exhausted as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I just need to make a call. I’ll be back in a minute, bug.”

Max walked along the room, looking over the children’s artwork as he pressed his phone to his ear and waited. Eventually the call went to voicemail and his spine straightened tensely. “Kel, I’ve picked up P from daycare and I’m taking her to the hospital. Call me when you get this.”

You could see the man was stressed when he returned and his short hair pointed in all directions from the hand he kept nervously running through it. It was cute.

“Daniil is in Italy this week for work,” Max said as he returned to your side and picked up Penelope’s Prada backpack before opening his arms. “I’ll keep trying to get a hold of Kelly. Come on, bug.”

Lunchtime was coming to an end and children were starting to file back into the room, a few of the older ones stopping at staring wide eyed at Max. He was tall but not that tall or formidable to draw such a reaction but your question was answered when one of the boys ran to his picture on the wall. Timothée unpinned the drawing of a race car and ran up to Max, holding it out with a pencil.

“Sir, can you please sign this?”

Max looked used to the attention and took the pen with a polite, “Sure.” He stared at the picture for the moment after signing it and chuckled. “Is the RB20?”

Timothée nodded eagerly. “It’s my favourite.”

“Mine too,” he said as handed the picture back and smiled as it was crushed happily to the boy's chest. Max then carefully picked up Penelope, slowly so she wasn’t jostled, and his arms brushed yours. 

“If you need anything you have my number,” you reminded as the weight was lifted from your lap. “Children can be a little overwhelming if you’re not used to it.”

Max smiled fondly at Penelope and shook his head. “This isn’t new. I still have her room set up.”

“You do?” Penelope asked hopefully and Max turned his head as he cursed to himself. “Are we going to live with you again?”

“No, no, sorry, P,” he said softly. “I just haven’t had time to redecorate.”

“Oh.” You both winced at the defeated tone and you knew the fresh tears had nothing to do with her arm this time but you were saved by the bell as it spurred Max to toss the bag over his shoulder and look to the door.

“I hope you feel better soon, Penelope.”

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you,” Max echoed with a nod before departing.

All afternoon you were distracted with thoughts of the two of them until the final bell rang and you grabbed your phone. You had sporadically tried to contact Daniil and Kelly again but the calls went straight to voicemail every time and you found no returned calls.

Y/N: How is Penelope? Max: She is happy watching The Little Mermaid. She has a sprained wrist and the nurse complemented the bandaging so you should be proud. Y/N: And how are you? Max: I’m fine.

Max swore as the pot of water boiled over and he hissed as he grabbed the handle to find it was just as hot. He dropped his phone reaching for the teatowel and then P started calling out from the living room complaining that the movie was boring - the same movie she watched a thousand times and she had specifically asked for.

Y/N: My mentor used to tell me that stood for: freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Are you sure you are fine?

After turning the stove down to a simmer and wiping up the mess of water that had splashed across his floor he went and changed the movie to what would hopefully last longer than ten minutes before she changed her mind. Taking another attempt at making dinner, he grabbed a bag of pasta from his pantry and poured its entirety into the pot.

Max: I’m thinking I am definitely neurotic and possibly starting to freak out. Y/N: I couldn’t have that on my conscience. My offer still stands if you need some help. Max: You don’t have anyone you need to get home to? Y/N: My cat prefers his own company unless he’s hungry and he’s already been fed today so no. Max: I don’t want you to go out of your way. Y/N: I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to follow through. Let me help. Please?

Max smiled at his phone before sending his address and looking around to see how tidy the place was. His jacket was tossed on the table instead of being hung up and Penelope’s bag was spilled across the entryway floor, not the first impression he wanted to make.

You entered the port address into your phone and locked the classroom behind you, feeling a little unsteady at the thought of seeing Max again. Penelope was a sweet child and she seemed comfortable with Max but you hadn’t really ever heard her talk about him before. You told yourself the only reason you were going there was to check on your student's wellbeing, but a small part of you wanted to see Max again.

You wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard your knock on the door or that you had the wrong apartment and you rapped your knuckles on it again before he called out. There was a crash and then a groan close to the door before it swung open and Max balanced on one leg.

“Uh, is everything okay?” you asked as he clutched his foot.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he rushed before he caught the teasing curl of your brow and he froze before a smile grew on his lips. “Right, freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional.”

“You’re a quick learner.” You stepped inside at his invitation and he closed the door behind you while you rushed towards the burning smell in the kitchen. “Oh, wow.”

“Fucksake,” Max grumbled as he grabbed a wet tea towel before reaching for the tray of garlic bread in the oven. “Ouch, shit!”

“You said a naughty word,” Penelope called out from the next room like it was something that she regularly commented on. “That's another 20.”

Max sighed heavily as he looked at a jar on the bench that was already filled with cash. “Shit.”

“I heard that.”

“Shouldn’t you be watching your movie?”

You giggled at the amusing conversation before turning the tap to cold and taking Max’s hand. “Wet towels and hot trays make steam.”

He watched you guide his hand under the water and flinched as it hit the burn mark on his palm. “I don’t usually cook, if you couldn’t tell.”

“The life of a bachelor. Keep your hand there.” You moved with ease around his kitchen trying to save what was left of dinner but paused at a huge pot of pasta that had swelled up and pushed the lid half off. “Are you expecting a dozen other people?”

Max shrugged innocently. “I didn’t know how much to put in.”

“Well the good news is the top half is edible,” you stated after finding a colander and draining the pasta until only a thick layer remained stuck to the bottom of the pot. “Do you have any sauce?”

“Sauce?”

“What were you going to have with it?”

“Garlic bread.” You both looked at the charred sticks still smoking on the baking tray.

“Do you mind?” you asked as you pointed to his fridge and the cupboards around the kitchen.

“No, please. Go ahead.”

You checked the fridge first and you were pleasantly surprised to find it well stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables. “Do you live off salads or does all this go to waste?”

“Neither, my nutritionist comes by twice a week and he prepares the meals.”

For a moment you had forgotten his profession. You had googled his name after Timothée couldn’t stop talking about meeting the ‘Max Verstappen’. “That must be intense, and restricting. Does your social life suffer?”

“It’s not so bad. I still get to go out for dinner and have a few drinks when I want.” He started to pull his hand out from under the water but you tutted and caught his wrist, holding it back beneath the cold stream.

“Keep still,” you warned with a voice you saved for children who weren’t listening. “It needs 20 minutes under there.”

“You want me to stand here for twenty minutes?”

“No, science wants you to stay there for twenty minutes.”

“Are you a teacher or a nurse?” he asked with a playful roll of his eyes.

“Depends if it's halloween.”

His loud laugh made you smile and you eased your grip on his hand one finger at a time to see if he would stay where he was. He did. “I’ll behave, Miss Y/L/N.”

“You can call me Y//N.”

“I kind of like calling you Miss Y/L/N.”

You checked to see if he was serious but thankfully there was a teasing smile on his face before you returned to the fridge to gather some ingredients.

By some small miracle dinner can’t have been too bad since everyone cleaned their plates of the pasta, though you thought they were likely being polite since you could still taste the hint of smoke from the bottom of the pan. Penelope had spent most of the meal asking Max if he remembered what they used to do when she lived there, how they used to go travelling and shopping. You got to see first hand how much patience the man had as he answered each question despite how it made him uncomfortable.

“You miss her,” you commented after she had gone back to the tv. Max started to collect the dishes with you and sighed as he placed them in the sink. 

“It was a big change when they moved out,” he spoke quietly and you stepped closer so you could hear better. “She kept asking if she did something wrong.”

“That must have been hard for you.” His eyes widened and you wondered what shocked him, but you had a feeling it was the fact someone showed concern for him. Even though you didn’t know the details of the break up, it was clear he had and still did care for Penelope and you felt sorry for him. “Can I hug you? I’m a hugger and I feel like you could really do with one.”

“You want to hug me?”

You tried to shrug it off casually. “If you want to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everyone needs a hug sometime.”

“I do,” he said quickly, very quickly, before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I-I wouldn’t mind a hug.”

You smiled at his tentativeness and stepped into his personal space, slipping your hands into the narrow openings between his limp arms and his body to curl around his waist. It took a moment for him to respond before his own arms embraced the comfort and curled around your back too.

“You smell really good, Max,” you complimented as you rested your head on his chest and caught the scent of his cologne.

“Thank you,” he chuckled, the amusement relaxing him even more until his entire body curved into yours. “I think you have playdough in your hair.”

You hummed in agreement. “Highly likely. You wouldn’t believe the places I find that stuff at the end of the day, glitter too.”

His bold laugh made you smile and you didn’t care it was at your own expense, you were just happy to know it was because of you. Unfortunately you didn’t have the chance to hear it again as his phone rang from the countertop and you saw Kelly’s name light up the screen.

“I should let you get that,” you said as you stepped back, instantly missing the warmth and his scent. “I’ll go keep Penelope company.”

Max waited for you to leave the kitchen before he accepted the call, his calm state evaporating in an instant. “What the hell, Kelly? Where have you been?”

“My phone was on flight mode, I was on a plane. Is P okay?”

“Her wrist is sprained but she’s alright now.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself to breathe. “Why would you leave her alone?”

“She wasn’t alone. Maria was meant to pick her up after school and I should have been home in time for dinner but my flight was delayed.”

“Who is Maria?”

“Her nanny.”

Max had to suppress the groan at the news. He knew Daniil hated the idea of a nanny and he had offered to have more custody so that P would be raised by her parents and not a stranger, but Kelly had vetoed that idea.

“Do you want to go out for dinner? I owe you.”

“No, we’ve already eaten.”

“Some other time then.”

Max made a non-committal sound, his eyes darting to the living room where he watched Penelope explain the movie to you. You were so attentive and patient, asking questions that had Penelope thinking deeper and using such a simple interaction as a learning opportunity. He could see why you suited being a teacher.

“Maybe,” he lied, “just let me know when you’re almost here and I’ll bring P out to you, I don’t want to confuse her any more.”

“Right, of course,” Kelly sighed. “I’ll see you soon, Max.”

Max made the most of the time he had left with P, abandoning the dishes so he could sit on the other side of her and watch the movie about a chef rat. She had cozied into his side with a yawn and nudged his arm until he eventually draped it over her shoulder. It was completely innocent but you couldn’t help noticing the heat of his hand touching your arm, the warmth spreading like wildfire.

The fire was doused when his phone vibrated and the moment to leave had come.

While he grabbed Penelope’s backpack, you grabbed your handbag and prepared your own goodbyes. It was silly to feel sad the evening had come to an end but you knew that you would likely never see Max again. You weren’t famous and he didn’t have children, your paths weren’t meant to cross.

“Have a good weekend, Penelope,” you said as you knelt down and gave her a hug. “I’ll see you bright and early on Monday.”

“Bye, Miss Y/L/N.”

You rose to your feet wondering where you stood with Max until he opened his arms. “Anytime you need a hug, you have my number,” you offered as you stepped into his embrace, no matter how unlikely that prospect was.

“Or if I’m feeling fine?”

You giggled and nodded against his chest. “Especially if you’re feeling fine.”

The walk to the elevator was slow, as if no one wanted the strange evening to end, but there was no stopping time as it began making its way down from the penthouse to the ground floor. The doors opened and you instantly spotted Kelly in the reception area, her elegant and effortless beauty reminding you that you still had playdough in your hair.

With one last look at the man beside you, you gave him a small smile and stepped away. “Goodbye, Max.”

He didn’t respond as you headed to the valet area but he pulled his phone out of his pocket and yours vibrated a moment later.

Max: Are you okay?

Y/N: I’m fine.

Max: Me too. Emotional, you?

Y/N: Insecure.

Max: Want a hug?

You stopped and turned to see Max hand Penelope’s bag over before struggling to separate the girl from where she clung to his leg. She didn’t know, couldn’t see how it was hurting Max, but you could. So you waited, and when the mother and daughter had departed you stepped into the elevator with the subdued man, slipping your hand into his.

The elevator rose quickly and you watched Max’s throat bounce with the deep swallow he made before he choked out a broken, “Fuck.”

“I feel like I should remind you about the swear jar,” you teased as you bumped your shoulder gently against his arm. “But I’ll let you off this once because I have a soft spot for you.”

He looked down at you from the corner of his eye and you saw some of the sadness fading from them. “Does that make me the teacher's pet?”

You gasped dramatically and clutched your chest with your free hand. “I could never bestow such high praise after just one day.”

“What are your plans tomorrow then?” he asked with a smirk as the doors opened and he pulled his house key out of his pocket.

“I don’t have any.”

“Lovely, now are you going to answer my question?” He stepped inside the apartment and opened his arms. “Did you want a hug?”

Your smile chased away more of the shadows in his eyes and the last of it was erased when you stepped into his arms with an eager nod. “I will never say no to a hug.”

His chest bounced with a laugh and you felt him rest his cheek on your head with a contented sigh. “That is very good to know.”

[mismatched-sockss]

Follow my lead

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 5,8k (help, i got a little carried away..) » Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, squint and you'll miss the plot, established relationship, reader hasn't been able to orgasm from masturbation alone, mentions of using sex toys to cum (f), guided masturbation, masturbation (f and m), praising / praise kink, dirty talk, unintentional edging (f), voyerism, multiple orgasms, some begging, a lot of check ins, unprotected p in v, creampie, i think this already counts as (soft)dom!Spencer, pet names (good girl for reader, baby, love) » A/N: and here we have my first entry for the bingo! it's my first time participating in a bigger challenge, i can't tell you all how excited i am about this whole thing. don't ask me what happend here, i was shocked when i checked the word count... also, this is the first time writing smut again after years, so bare with me please. hope you enjoy!

⚶ bingo masterlist | masterlist ⚶

“Never?”

“Never. I don't know, it just doesn't do it for me.”

“But you are- I mean, when”, Spencer mumbled, waving his hands around and pointing at you then him, back and forth a couple of times. “When we-”, he trailed off, his cheeks blushing as he got shy and a bit insecure.

“Oh? No”, you started but when his eyes slightly widened you realized it came out wrong. You stepped closer to him and took his hands in yours, softly squeezing them as you looked up at him with a reassuring smile. “Yes, it works when we are sleeping with each other. You do make me cum.” He huffed out a small laugh and blushed a bit more, but the insecurity that had bubbled up was leaving him again.

You pulled him in to you and placed his hands on your waist, then leaned against him and rested your chin against his chest, looking up at him. Shrugging, you wrapped your arms around his mid. “I just can't finish from only touching myself. Not without using toys that require batteries at least.”

Spencer softly squeezed your waist and started drawing circles with his thumbs. He slightly squinted his eyes and nodded his head a couple of times in thought; you could practically hear the gears turning as an idea formed in his mind. You raised your chin. “What?”

“Show me.”

“Huh? Show you? You mean, you...”, you trailed off. Now it was your turn to get shy, the heat rising up in your body, creeping higher until your face grew hot. “You want to watch me.. masturbate?”

Spencer nodded, one side of his lips turned up in a teasing half smile. “Yes. You said I make you cum, so there must be something I'm doing right.” Both of you chuckled at that. “You could show me how you touch yourself and I could talk you through it. If you'd like to try, I mean.”

Subconsciously you pressed you thighs together, which Spencer didn't miss. You licked over your bottom lip, then pulled it between your teeth as you thought about what he was saying. Spencer's eyes followed the motion as he was studying your face, studying your reaction to his proposition.

The thought alone made your heart beat faster and it ignited a raging fire in you. The thought of his eyes watching closely as you lie before him, legs spread and with your hands between your thighs. His voice and words guiding and aiding your pleasure, telling you what to do and how to do it...

Your breath hitched and you swallowed hard. He raised one of his hands to cup your cheek, his thumb softly brushed over the corner of your mouth. “Is that a yes?”, he asked, his voice low. Spencer already knew the answer just by watching your reaction, but wanted you to say it out loud. His other hand sneaked under your shirt, his fingertips caressing your skin on their way higher and higher until he stopped at your ribs.

If he would give you a second, just one second without him touching or teasing you in some way, you would be able to form a sentence and answer with more than a nod. As if he had read your mind, Spencer slightly pulled back, giving you space to breathe and without his hands on you.

And even though this was what you had wanted a few seconds ago so you could properly answer him, you immediately missed his touch and a whine escaped you. He just chuckled and raised an eyebrow, encouraging you to speak, still waiting for an answer.

“Okay. Yes”, you breathed out and nodded, “wanna do it.” A desperate plea still on your tongue, he cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips to yours.

You sighed against his mouth, your lips parting. Spencer deepened the kiss and both of you moaned when your tongues met. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hands slide down over your neck and collarbones, over your chest where he was careful not to touch your nipples through the fabric and down to your sides, where he pushed them back under the hem of your shirt, slowly making his way up..

The kiss only broke for a moment when he pulled your shirt over your head, his lips instantly reattaching to yours and his hands back on you, now able to roam freely over your skin without any restrictions. You slid your own hands over his chest and started to unbutton his dress shirt. You just undid the last button when you gasped and bunched up the material in your hands; Spencer slowly slid one of his hands under the hem of your panties and groaned against your lips when he felt how wet you were.

His finger slid through your folds, teasing at your entrance before he drew slow and gentle circles on your clit. When your breath hitched and you began to grind your hips against his hand, he stopped and pulled his hand out of your pants

“Nuh-uh, the deal was for you to make yourself cum; with your own hands”, he taunted, as if he hadn't started this himself just now. He lifted your chin and pressed a kiss to your lips. When he leaned back you tried to chase his lips, whining when he left you hanging and took a step back, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as he did so. Then he took another step. And another. “Take the rest of your clothes off.”

The buckle of his belt rattled as Spencer opened it, your eyes followed his hands. You watched him pull it out of the loops and drop it to the floor next to him before he unbuttoned his pants – but kept them on – and sat down in the armchair. His eyes never left you, following each of your moves. You hooked your thumbs into the hem of your pants and underwear and pulled them down, letting them pool around your ankles.

“Sit down, spread your legs and put your hands on your knees.”

You stepped out of the pile of fabric and kicked them to the side, right onto the rest of your discarded clothes, then you did as he told you and sat down across from him on the sofa, slowly opening your legs.

Being naked in front of Spencer was one thing, but this? It was a totally new feeling for you; a different – a special – kind of vulnerability you had never experienced before, not with him, not with anybody.

You felt like your skin was on fire, inch after inch getting ignited as Spencer's eyes wandered over your naked body, lingering here and there for a moment; on your bottom lip when you licked over it and pulled it between your teeth, the swell of your breasts and your hardening nipples, down over your soft stomach to your glistening pussy, already wet from his teasing, and your hands loosely resting on your knees.

“Like that. Good girl.”

This wasn't the first time he called you a 'good girl', but today... Fuck... A shiver ran down your back and you were barely able to hold back a whimper, the ache in your core getting stronger and you felt yourself clench around nothing. God, you wanted to feel him deep inside you; tongue, fingers, cock. What ever you could get. What ever he would give you. Your hands shook in anticipation and you felt yourself getting wetter and needier.

Spencer's eyes darkened when he saw your intense reaction to the praise and his jaw went slack for a moment before he fixed his gaze back on your face, trying to gain back some composure. His hands held a tight grip on the armrests, his knuckles almost white, as if he had to physically hold himself back from just getting up and ravaging you right then and there.

You loved the effect you had on him, that just seeing you drove him crazy. It made you feel powerful.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly breathed out, calming himself down. His grip on the armrests loosened then and he leaned back. “I want you to start by moving your hands over your thighs”, he instructed, his voice low and raspy. “Slowly.”

Without having to think about it you followed his words and let your hands glide over your soft skin with a gentle pressure; from your knees over the outsides of your thighs until you reached your hips, then you moved them up to slide them back down to your knees again.

“You can touch your inner thighs as well, but don't touch your pussy yet.”

You nodded and took a shaky breath. The insides of your thighs were more sensitive and you shuddered as you got closer and closer to your core and a soft moan escaped your lips. Even though Spencer told you not to, you wanted nothing more than to play with your clit or slide two of your fingers inside, thrusting them in and out.

And when he moved his hand to his bulge, palming himself as he watched you, you thought that maybe, he would let you do it. He didn't give you permission and you didn't ask, but you didn't stop moving your hands further up. But when your fingertips got too close to your folds, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“Sorry”, you mumbled breathless and pulled your hands back. You slid them back down, closer to your knees, and grabbed your thighs.

“'s okay, baby.” Then Spencer chuckled. “And you can sit more comfortably if you want, by the way. You don't have to sit up with a straight back.”

You pouted with a smile on your lips as you looked beside you and grabbed a pillow to put it behind your back. “I knew that.” You leaned back, testing if the pillow was in a good position and when you where satisfied with the placement you scooted back some more and fully rested your body against it.

“Anything you feel like doing right now?”, Spencer asked. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything he added with a smirk: “Except for touching your pussy.”

You grinned at him. “What about for you to fuck me?” But he just shook his head, chuckling.

“Patience, love.”

Well, it was still worth a try. You held back the disappointed and needy whine that wanted to come out and for a moment you tried to think about it, you really did. But you made the mistake to look down his torso and Spencer's hand was just too damn distracting. He was still palming himself over his pants, softly squeezing from time to time. And while he was waiting for your answer, he lazily stroked his thumb back and forth over his clothed shaft.

The words came out choked and barely audible when you finally forced yourself to answer, your fingers digging hard in to your flesh. “Don't know...”

“First thing that comes to mind.” His voice was lazed with amusement; Spencer was enjoying this so much and he knew exactly what he was doing to you right now. His tongue darted out to lick over his lip and the softly bit down in the tip.

After a deep breath you made yourself look at his face and softened the grip you had on your thighs. “Maybe... touch my breasts? My nipples?”

He smiled softly. “No wrong answers here.” With a tilt of his head he raised his chin as confirmation. “Go ahead. Keep your hands on your body.”

With a tender touch your moved your hands up your body, softly caressing your skin, up to your tits and cupped them with your hands.

“Gently massage them, play with your nipples.”

You gasped when you followed his instructions and rolled your hard nipples between your fingers, the sensation shooting waves of pleasure down to your core. With every flick and twist you grew needier. Impatient.

"Feels good?", he asked breathy, his voice shaking a bit when he moved his hand faster and with more pressure over his cock.

"Not as good as when you do it”, you whined.

Spencer chuckled again; his tone teasing. "Want me to touch you?"

You nodded your head eagerly, your back slightly arching into your hands. "Mh-hm, please."

"Wanna see you make yourself cum first, okay? You can do it. I'll touch you as much as you want after."

If you wouldn't get some kind of release soon, you would go insane, completely feral. Closing your legs to press your thighs together for some friction wasn't an option and with the way you were sitting you couldn't exactly try and rub yourself against the sofa. And maybe it was written on your face in big, bold letters, because Spencer – finally – gave you the go.

“Slide your hands down your stomach, move your fingertips over your lips and tease yourself for a moment – yes, good, like that. When you are ready, go ahead and touch your clit. Soft circles.”

The first stoke of your fingers over your clit felt like heaven and ecstasy flooded through your whole body. Your head fell back and you moaned loudly; it felt so good to finally be able to feel your fingers where you so desperately had wanted them that your body started to tremble. A string of mashed together words fell from your lips, you didn't even realize you were saying them. ”Thankyouthankyouthankyou-”

You melted back into the pillow, gasping and moaning as the pleasure became more and more; your other hand found its way back to your tits on its own, groping at the soft flesh and teasing your nipple as your fingers between your legs moved in slow, tight circles.

The sound of clothes rustling made you lift your head; Spencer lifted his hips to slip off his pants, letting them pool around his ankles. He adjusted his position and leaned back, his knees slightly falling apart and he wrapped his hand around his hard cock.

The sight made you whimper, the need to taste him and feel him overtaking your whole being. But you knew, even if you would ask – beg – him to fuck you, he wouldn't do it, not now; you hadn't cum yet. So you did the next best thing and pushed two of your fingers into your leaking cunt.

A breathy laugh fell from Spencer's lips as he watched you start to thrust your fingers into yourself as soon as you had seen him. His grip on his cock tightened and he started to pump his fist faster, not holding back his own moans. He so desperately wanted to bury himself in your tight walls and it took everything in him to hold back. “God, you look so perfect right now... So fucking pretty.”

The both of you worked each other up, the pleasure getting more intense with every stroke; hands moving, touching and teasing with more and more want and desperation.

But somehow it still wasn't enough. “Can I go faster?”, you whimpered, your voice wavering.

“Of course, baby. Go as fast or as slow as you want.”

The room filled with both of your moans and panting, and the sounds of skin hitting on skin – Spencer's fist hitting his pelvis and the palm of your hand slapping against your slick cunt – as you gradually picked up the pace until you were franticly fucking yourself with your fingers.

After a while you slowed down your pace again, trying to catch your breath. You felt the familiar knot form in your belly as you pumped your fingers in and out of your heat, your walls fluttering around them.

“Think I'm getting close...”, you breathed out, followed by a high-pitched gasp when your palm rubbed over your clit.

A groan formed in the back of Spencer's throat. “Touch your clit again; you can go slow or fast, in circles or not, however it feels right.”

You pulled your fingers out and swirled them over your clit, your fingertips effortlessly sliding over it. The muscles in your stomach tightened as your orgasm built up. You fought against the urge to thrust your hips up, trying to keep your focus on rubbing your clit. You didn't want to get distracted, this was the closest you had ever gotten yourself and if you had to concentrate on moving your hips as well as your hand and fingers, you wouldn't be able to keep up with both movements.

Your breathing got quicker and heat was rising up in your body. Just when you felt like you would burst – it stopped; instead of falling over the edge your body refused to go further, keeping you right on the ledge. As if it was taunting you, the sensation became weaker, not even leaving you on the edge any more.

It was always like this when you tried to finish without a toy; your managed to make yourself feel good and when you got close – which also felt like it took forever to even get there – your body refused to give you the release you had been chasing.

A whine left your lips, you were borderline sobbing, as you squeezed your eyes shut. The need to cum and the frustration that it wasn't working, together with the unintentionally edging had you close to tears. You slowed your movements, but kept going nonetheless. “I can't. Told you it doesn't work for me.”

“Don't fight it, you almost had it. Let your body take control and let it guide you.”

You nodded eagerly and met his eyes. “Okay, I- I'll try.” You tried to hold his gaze and after a deep breath you slowly pick up the pace again. Spencer matched your pace, the slow lazy strokes getting faster as he pumped his cock with the same speed your fingers were circling your clit. Your eyelids fluttered as your gaze flickered between his face – all flushed, desire burning in his eyes and slack-jawed, with his lips slightly parted – and his hand stroking his erection.

This time when your hips jolted, you let it happen and shifted your focus to what you were feeling instead of what you were doing. It took you a moment or two to fully let go and give into the pleasure, your movements faltering a couple of times until your mind cleared and your hips and fingers synced up to work together in a delicious, steady rhythm.

“That's it, baby. Just like that. You are doing so well.” Spencer's voice was low and his tone had gotten so gravelly, he was almost growling.

You leaned back, your moans getting louder again as heat spread under your skin until your whole body was on fire , the knot in your stomach began to tighten again. It got tighter and tighter until –

“Oh fuck”, you screamed out in between your moans as your legs began to shake, and when the coil in your lower belly snapped your thighs clamped shut. Your hand stilled and your fingers stopped working your clit; instead your hips kept jolting, thrusting up into your fingers and prolonged your orgasm on their own accord. Your back arched off the sofa and you slapped your other hand on the cushion next to you, tightly gripping it in your fist.

When your body finally calmed down you gasped for air and through the foggy haze clouding your mind you vaguely registered moaning and a string of words – probably an array of curses, maybe even some praise about how well you did, how pretty you looked when you came, good girl – but the blood rushing through your ears was too loud, making it hard to make out any words.

As your muscles relaxed more, your body got limb and let yourself slide along the back of the couch until you were lying down; pulling one leg onto the couch, the other still hanging down. The more oxygen you got, the more you came back to. The shaking in your legs had almost stopped, instead your shoulders started to shake as you began to giggle. “Holy shit.”

A low laugh made you turn your head to the side and open your eyes. Your were met with Spencer's face right next to yours, a proud smile on his lips as he took in your blissed out state. He had just knelt down next to you, his hand found its way to your forehead and brushed away a few sweaty strands. “See? Knew you could do it, 'm so proud of you, baby.” He moved his hand to cup your cheeks, then further down to curl it around the back of your neck.

Your smile grew bigger and you took a shaky breath to say something, but before you could Spencer pulled you closer and kissed you desperately; the need to be near you, touch you, feel you, overpowering him. You kissed him back just as feverishly and buried your hands in his hair. Spencer let his hand wander from your neck down to your breasts, his fingers leaving your skin burning up and begging for more. He cupped one of them, gently massaging it and started playing with your nipple, rolling it between his fingertips and pinching it with just the right amount of pressure that made you tremble and arch your back into him.

You whimpered and softly tugged on the strands at the back of his head. He groaned into your mouth in return and you felt him shift his position as he got up, pulling his knee up to hold him self up so he could lean over you. His touch and his lips, finally feeling his hands on your body, made you feel dizzy and reignited the ache in your core, your clit throbbing, desperately waiting for his attention.

The sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs made you jump a little, you broke the kiss and gasped which quickly turned into a high-pitched moan when he slipped one of his fingers in between your slick folds, only grazing your entrance as he collected some of your arousal. You were still sensitive from your orgasm, but the rush of him finally touching you was stronger and you started to move your hips.

He didn't make you wait long and so after a few tight circles over your clit, he slid his fingers down to your entrance and sank two of them into you, filling you up so much better than your own had done and reaching that spot deep inside you that you couldn't quite reach yourself.

The both of you quickly fell in an easy rhythm with each other and he had you a moaning and blabbering mess in a matter of seconds; it would almost be embarrassing if you would care about it. It blew your mind every time – every god damn day – how much power Spencer held over you, both body and mind. And if he would be anybody else, it might even scare you.

“You looked so beautiful, love, you have no idea”, Spencer breathlessly cooed against your delicate skin, kissing and softly nibbling along your neck and throat. “Could watch you play with yourself all day.”

You wouldn't be able to say anything to him even if you wanted, your mind getting blank and fuzzy; all what left your lips where breathy moans and pleas. A whiny gasp left your throat when he curled his fingers, pressing his fingertips against the very spot that made you see stars.

Spencer kissed his way to the sensitive spot under your ear and when he spoke again, whispering into your ear, his lips grazed it. “Can feel how close you are, it's okay, baby. Come for me.”

He asked and your body complied.

With his name on your lips, repeating it over and over like a prayer, your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes rolled back and when your whole body tensed up, you tried to hold on to something to anchor yourself. You blindly reached for his wrist and held it in a tight grip, your other hand curled around his arm, clawing at his biceps. Spencer kept the pace he was circling your clit with his thumb with and pumping his fingers into you as you clenched around them, trying to suck him in deeper.

Your walls were still fluttering around his fingers when you released his wrist from your grip and moved your hand to the back of his head, pulling him even closer to you. The vibrations of him chuckling against your pulse tickled your skin and you whined quietly when he slowly pulled his fingers out of your cunt, leaving you empty. He slightly leaned back and looked at you, a crooked smirk stretched on his lips. “Still want more, huh?”

“Please, baby, need you, please.” You keened, not at all caring how needy you sounded.

He shook his head at you, not to say no, but in a affectionate you are something else kind of way. “Think you got enough strength left to hold yourself up a little?”

“Yes, think so.” You swallowed and breathed deeply, nodding your head as you held his gaze. ”I will.”

“That's my good girl.” Spencer closed the small space between you and kissed you, swallowing the whiny sound you made, his lips lingering on yours for a moment, then he helped you to sit up. You watched him reach for the other pillows that had scattered around the couch and bunch them up, piling them against the back of the seats, right next to you. “C'mere.”

His hands found your hips and you let him guide you in to the position he had wanted you in, right against the pillows. He guided you to sit – kneel really – in front of the piled up pillows, chest facing them and gently pushed your upper body with a hand between your shoulder blades down. You lay against the pile, letting it support your body and after adjusting it a bit, you crossed your arms on top and placed your head down; you were practically hugging the whole thing.

He nudged your leg with his knee to spread your legs more so he could kneel behind you. With a sigh you relaxed your muscles and enjoyed Spencers hands roaming over your back. He planted a couple of kisses on your neck and shoulder, then placed his hand on the backrest behind you to hold himself up and craned his neck to catch your eyes. You shifted the position of your head slightly so you could look at him better.

“Are you comfortable?”

You smiled at him and hummed, nodding your head. Spencer returned the smile and leaned closer, to capture your lips in a kiss. It was supposed to be a quick one, just a small peck, but his front was now flush against your back and his dick had fit so perfectly between you, with his shaft splitting your folds and pressed against your entrance that he couldn't hold back any more.

So instead, he moved his hand from the sofa to the back of your head, holding you close as he slid his tongue into your mouth and deepened the kiss. You moaned into each others mouths, desperately rocking your hips against each other. He pressed himself against you as close as possible, leaving no space between your bodies, as if he wanted to make up for the time he hadn't touched you all evening.

All it took was for him to pull back just a bit more and his cock slipped right into you, bottoming out at once. “Shit”, you hissed at the sudden stretch, directly followed by crying out his name in pleasure when he pulled out just an inch or two and slowly thrust back in, even deeper.

His forehead fell to your shoulder and Spencer let out a long, deep moan. He placed his left hand back on the backrest – closer to your front this time so his arm was circling around you, more like he was holding you in a hug – and his other took a tight hold on your hip. For a long moment neither of you moved, just basking in the feeling of each other and trying to catch your breaths.

Every time you exhaled, a soft whimpering sigh left your lips. You pulled your left arm out from under your body and reached for his hand on the backrest, slotting your fingers between his. He moved his fingers slightly so he could gently squeeze yours.

Spencer was the first to move. You felt him lift his head and press his lips to your shoulder, before he repeated the same slow and deep thrust from before, not moving his body away even an inch from yours. He kept rolling his hips into you in a slow pace, pushing in deep and hard rather than fast.

Your whole body was pushed hard against the pillows in front of you every time he rocked into you, every thrust eliciting a low moan from you. You let your head fall back against him, leaning the side of your face against his. “Fuck, feel so good around me”, he groaned right by your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin.

He kept the slow and hard pace for a while, only moving faster when you pushed back against him, needing to feel more of him. You gasped with every quickening breath, the ache in your stomach was growing again. “'m close”, you breathed out, your hand tightening the hold on his.

With his nose he gently nudged your cheek. “You know what to do”, he said breathless.

You shook your head quickly, whining desperately. “No, no, no, nonono, please, need you to touch me. Please.”

“Aw, but you did so well earlier.” He planted a kiss to your jaw, then moved his lips to your ear and pulled your earlobe between his teeth, gently nibbling on it.

“Promised...Ah... Said 'yd touch me.. all I want...” You got quieter with every word, your voice high-pitched and shaky with need.

Spencer chuckled and leaned his forehead against your temple. “Mmh, I did, didn't I?” All you could do was nod, not trusting your voice any more. But there were no more words needed. He sneaked his free hand between you and the pillows to give you what you wanted, needed.

You hadn't expected to be this sensitive, but when his fingertips slid over your clit you jolted forward, crying out his name. “Fuck...” His chest rumbled with a deep laugh against your back and he pushed your body against the pile of pillows with his own to hold you in place. In sync with the quick flicks of his fingers, he picked up the pace he was thrusting into your pussy, his hips snapping against you faster and faster.

You tried to hold yourself up, leaning your forearms against the backrest, but your arms had gotten too weak so all you could do was hold onto it with your hands in a tight grip, taking what Spencer gave you; your head hung low and nothing more then moans left your lips.

When he felt you clench hard around him, Spencer groaned and leaned his temple against yours, his mouth near your ear. “Such a good girl, taking me so well”, he panted and increased the pressure on your clit; the praise did exactly what he had intended and it sent you over the edge, with a choked out cry your back arched against him and you came, your whole body shaking. He had been close before, but it took him by surprise when you pussy clenched so hard around him that you pulled him right with you, his dick twitching and he spilled himself into you.

Both of you collapsed against the back of the sofa, breathing hard, and you let out an uff when Spencer's weight got too much. “Sorry”, he said breathlessly and immediately pulled back; you hissed when he pulled out in the same move. He moved his arm around your torso and helped you holding yourself up. You tiredly grabbed pillow after pillow and just threw it blindly to the side to let them fall to the floor. The last one was a bit difficult to get out from under you, but after you got it out you moved it to the end of the couch.

You let your body fall into the cushions, ringing for air and with your eyes closed. Next to you, Spencer got up. You reached out to him, alarmed when you heard him stumble; he luckily had regained his balance before he fell over his own feet, but his knees were still a bit wobbly. “Are you okay?”, you asked, your lips stretching into a worried smile. He huffed out a laugh and took the hand you had reached out into his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Yeah, I'm good. Just wanted to get us some water.” He gave your fingers a gentle squeeze before he let go and bend down to get his boxer shorts to put them back on before he slowly walked into the kitchen. Not even a minute later he came back and handed you a glass of cold water, his own already half empty.

When you had finished your water he took your glasses and put them down on the coffee table. You lifted your arms and reached for him, beckoning for him to come back and lay down on the couch with you.

“Five minutes”, you said softly, a wide smile on your lips; you already knew Spencer was about to shoo you up and into the shower.

He huffed, but took your hand and joined you. You made him some space and rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You hummed content, nuzzling your face deeper into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. After a short moment you mumbled: “Maybe ten minutes...”

Spencer just laughed and pulled you closer.

[no-144444]

misguided mishap- l.norris

Day 5 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: One bed… what could go wrong? (SMUT 18+)

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell! fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Long days and long flights. That was your life now. Yes, you were excited when Max had asked you to join Quadrant straight out of college as one of their PR/ marketing managers, but that was when you still thought it would be an office job. You liked to travel, in the sense that you liked seeing new cultures, countries and relaxing every now and then. What you didn’t like was the 4 days when you’d somehow been in 3 different time zones, trying to wrangle an overactive puppy in the form of a 21 year old skateboarder. Thus the joys of the job. 

Yet now, you were busy at a party making connections and ‘networking’ (Max’s favourite buzzword), too tired to even notice  Max and Lando’s eyes on you. You smiled and politely laughed at exactly the right moments in your conversation with Mark from some startup you’d never heard of or cared about. They both watched with soft smiles on their faces as you navigated the conversations simply, making everyone feel heard. Max was proud to say the least. 

Ever since you’d left for college, Lando hadn’t seen you. He’d always enjoyed your company as a kid, and he’d even thought he’d had a crush at one point, though Max did shut that down pretty quickly. But seeing you now? You were gorgeous. He couldn’t describe it. It could’ve been your personality, your smile, your eyes, or something fucking cosmic, but Lando was in love, and there was no stopping it. 

“Busy?” Lando smirked, handing you a G&T. You’d just finished up what you’d hoped to be your last business-related conversation of the night. 

You turned to him, startled, then smiled. “Hi Lan,” you gratefully took the drink with a nod. “Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you,” he leaned in closer, trying to not draw attention to the two of you. 

“It’s good to see you too,” you smiled back. “Congrats on your win last weekend!”

He smiled bashfully, proud of what his season had become. “Thanks,” he nodded, slyly wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “What have you been up to?”

“Working for Max,” you chuckled. “In Quadrant, of course, but still, I’m basically just Keegan’s PR manager,” you pointed out Keegan, who was busy trying to explain the theory of a kickflip to Max, who had been struggling with his skateboarding skills for some time. 

“You work in Quadrant?” he gawked. “I had no idea.”

You smiled. “That’s the sign of a good company, the boss has no clue what’s going on.”

He chuckled. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you nodded, noticing that little sparkle in his eyes as he watched you. 

“Why hasn’t Max been bringing you to races?” He questioned, taking a sip from his drink. 

“I’m busy now,” you shrugged. “Keegan is a handful.”

“Why didn’t you come to Ibiza?” 

You chuckled. “You must’ve really missed me if you’re asking this many questions,” someone knocked into you, pushing you even closer to him. He blushed and whether it was because of your words or the closeness of the two of you, he didn’t know. “Ibiza is a party place, I don’t like parties.”

“Why didn’t I see you at home then? I went back a few weeks ago.”

“I was home a few weeks ago. Maybe we just missed each other,” you suggested. 

“Not off galavanting with a boyfriend?” he teased. 

You leaned in ever closer, directly at his ear. “Why? Jealous?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “You are something else.”

“And to answer your question, no, no boyfriend. Too busy trying to wrangle Keegs,” you smiled as you watched Keegan burst out laughing with Max. “How is F1 going?”

“You haven't been watching?” he asked, chuckling. 

“I get too stressed knowing you’re in the car,” you explained. “I almost lost it when you crashed in Austria.” 

“Good to know you still care about little old me,” he grinned. “I promise you I’m safe.”

And something about the way he said it made you believe him. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the air, maybe it was the intoxicating closeness of him, maybe it was just always supposed to be like this, but you didn’t know. All you knew was that Lando was in front of you, with all of his attention on you, and you felt like falling straight into his trap. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you reminded him. “We both know you’re not safe in that car.”

He shrugged. “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can,” you looked up at him through batted eyelashes and smiled. “I think someone’s a fan,” you chuckled, drawing both your attention to the group of girls around his age who were losing their shit over the fact that he was here. 

“Please don’t make me talk to them,” he pleaded and you laughed. One of them slowly started approaching. 

“I don’t think you have a choice,” you smirked and stepped back, waving him a goodbye as his next conversation started. You didn’t notice that he followed you out of the party.

“Trying Irish goodbye?” he smirked, joining you in the elevator. 

“Fuck! You scared me!” you startled. “Do you have to be such a dick?!” 

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you as he apologised. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he mocked, using that stupid baby voice. 

You shoved him off with a playful smirk. “And yes, I’m tired. I just want to get to bed and lie down.”

“Don’t know how well Max will take you not saying goodnight,” he teased. “Might even come check on you.”

“Max can fuck off,” you sighed. “I’m a grown woman, and anyways, he wouldn’t come to the room he probably thinks I’m fucking someone.”

He almost did a double take when you said that, you caught it in the corner of your eye. 

“It’s a long story, but basically Max walked in on me having sex with this guy like 3 whole fucking years ago, and he always brings it up,” you explained. “He likes to hold it over my head.”

“How would he hold that over your head?”

You shrugged. “He thinks I make bad choices, that was one of them in his mind.”

“Was it a bad choice?” he asked, his eyes bearing into the side of your face. Anyone could feel the charged air in that tiny inclosed space. It made the fucking hair on your arms stand up, and gave you goosebumps on your legs. 

You felt your face heat, but answered simply. “No.”

“So then it wasn’t a bad choice,” he told you. “Max shouldn’t have any say in what you do. He’s your brother, not your keeper.”

“I know,” you answered simply, finally looking at him. “Thanks Lan.”

He offered a small smile and let you out of the elevator first. “What room are you?”

“213, you?” “213,” he read out the card the hotel had given him. “Well, that can’t be right.”

“I think it is, I was talking with the hotel staff and they said they’re fully booked up that people from the same companies have been forced to share. Did you come here under Quadrant or Mclaren?”

“Quadrant,” he sighed. You nodded. 

“It’s fine, we’ll survive for one night,” you dismissed the issue with a shrug. 

“One night? I’m here for a week,” he explained. 

“And I’m only here for tonight,” you yawned. “Off to Melbourne in the morning.”

“Break?” 

“Nah, visiting Keegan’s family and doing press stuff,” you explained. You opened the room and let out a sigh of pure rage. “One bed.” 

“I’ll take the floor,” he nodded but you stopped him. 

“We’re adults, we can share a fucking bed Lando,” you chuckled. 

And something about the way that you looked at him made him want to kiss you. The alcohol he’d consumed had definitely loosened his inhibitions and now he was solely focused on you. The way your hair fell, the way you talked to him, the smile on your lips, the way you weren’t shy with him. All of it made him fall deeper and deeper. He didn’t realise he was kissing you until you pulled on his hair, kissing him back. 

“Lan-” you pulled back slightly, but he just started kissing down your neck. “Close the door.”

He kicked it closed and kissed you again, hungry for more. “Jump,” he told you, you obliged and he caught you, carrying you over to the bed. 

“You sure you want this?” you asked as he started pulling off his clothes. 

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he smirked, pulling at your clothes. “You sure you want this?”

You just kissed him in response. He kissed down your neck, down your torso, and in between your legs. He took his time pulling off your trousers and underwear. Then he settled himself in front of you and smirked. 

“Such a pretty pussy baby,” he said before placing his mouth on your clit, sucking hard. You let out a yelp as he smirked against you, lapping at your folds, insatiable. It  made you delirious, how good it was, how good he felt. The way his tongue smoothed through your folds, sucking on your clit while he let’s out soft groans as if he’s the one getting sucked off right now. He had you squirming under him, holding your thighs in an iron-clad grip as he sped up. He got sloppier, more lewd sounds coming from the both of you as you got closer and closer to your peak. 

“Fuck, you’re dripping baby,” he groaned aginast your pussy, sending vibrations up your entire body. Your stomach clenched and contracted, and you came all over his face with a loud moan. You’d feel bad for the neighbours if you weren’t so horny. 

“Lan!” you groaned out, pulling his head away and back up to your face. He pressed kisses all over your neck, undoing his trouser to finally let his cock out. He was rock hard, he’d never been this turned on. “Fuck me, please fuck me,” you begged, and everything else fell away. He bottomed out with a moan as you bit into his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming, and when you nodded he started moving. 

You felt like heaven, gripping him like that. It made him feel like he couldn’t stop. Totally pussydrunk. “F-fuck baby,” he whimpered as he picked up the pace. 

“I’m-i’m gonna cum-fuck!” you moaned as he started hitting that gummy spot inside you, making you see fucking stars. “Yes-yes! There Lan, don’t fucking s-stop!”

He wasn’t planning on stopping. He picked up the pace even more, until the room was full of those lewd sounds from your wet pussy and his dirty mouth. 

“Y’like getting fucked like this? In hotel rooms just to l-leave the next morning?” he smirked as you squirmed under him. “Oh baby n-no, you’re not runnin’ away,” he grabbed one of your arms, pinning you down to the bed with a smirk. “Y’think they can hear us?”

That made you clamp down on him even harder, moaning even louder.

“You like that naughty girl?” he smirked, punctuating every word with a particularly hard thrust.  

“Y-yes!” you cried out, barely able to listen to what he was saying. It was all too much, too good, too little. 

“Fuck you’re perfect,” He groaned, biting into your neck as he willed himself not to cum. “Such a naughty girl.”

“Yours Lan, a-all yours,” you whined as you felt yourself getting closer. “I-I’m gonna cum!”

“You cum baby,” he huffed. “Give it to me.”

And he pushed you over the edge again. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, making you cum again as the world went blurry and your ears started ringing. Finally, he came inside you, triggering yet another orgasm as you screamed into a pillow. 

You fell asleep instantly, and he took it upon himself to get you cleaned up. He cleaned you up with a wet towel, put one of his hoodies on you, and kissed you goodnight before joining the bed and wrapping his arms around you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You woke up like that, sore but satisfied with Lando beside you.  Then you realised. What had you done?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen

[tender-rosiey]

aww nanami’s daughter who’s very possessive of her mama is so cute she definitely got it from her dad need more of her

sneaky lovey — nanami kento x f!reader

your daughter was kind of mischievous. you don’t know where did she get it from, but you have a feeling that it’s from her uncle gojo whom she has spent a lot of her weekends with.

it’s cute really, especially when she seems to be driving her dad crazy with her little pranks. after all of that, he still loves her, of course, but he hopes that she would understand that his stress levels don’t need to be any higher.

he also hopes that she learns how to share, especially share your attention and affection.

nanami is a mature man, so he can’t help but let her hog you all to herself whenever she goes, “daddy! I want mommy! that’s enough time for you.”

and who is he to deny her your love?

but in the end, he still is a man who is so very in love you and naturally craves your attention as well.

that leads to you guys to trying to sneak a few kisses here and there along with a bunch of hugs like a couple of teenagers in love.

you find it funny.

the way that your husband awaits any moment that your daughter isn’t there to press a kiss to your lips and have his arms around you.

he looks like a baby that had his toy taken away for way too long and it is so cute. you don’t mind voicing that out and you laugh softly when he sighs about how he just wants time with you.

on the other hand, he doesn’t find it funny.

one moment, he is kissing you and the other you’re being dragged by your daughter to draw with her.

she can not for the life of her let her dad get a second with his beautiful wife.

another example is when one day, you had sent her to her uncle gojo cause she had missed him.

nanami was low-key over the moon and refused to leave your side, leaving kisses on your hand, cheek, and forehead whenever given the chance.

“kento, you’re pretty affectionate today.”

“mm, just missed you, love.”

it was utter bliss, especially when you guys got to cuddling and reading a book together.

and don’t get him wrong, he loves his daughter very much, but he also loves you and it was finally his y/n time.

he enjoyed while it lasted which wasn’t enough to him but like nanami you spent at least 9 hours together what.

the little miss stole you for herself the moment she came home.

she also invited you both for tea in her little toy house, but had nanami put on make up, a crown, and a skirt and go drink tea alone in a corner.

when he asked her why, she just went, “you’re supposed to be the pretty maid so wait until you get ‘i am becoming a princess’ arc.”

the arc never came.

another thing is that nanami finds it bizarre that you wonder where the hell did her mischief come from.

there is no way that it isn’t innate and it is obvious when he looks at both of you, particularly right now.

these smirks and puffed out chests of pride and your shared giggles are full-proof. you had just done a harmless prank on your poor husband and he just stared at you both, unable to form a response to this bullying anymore.

“(d/n), i need to talk to mommy about something so that okay?”

“oh okay! good luck, mommy!”

oh that traitor. probably learned it from uncle gojo.

“y/n.”

“yes, my dear and handsome husband?” you say in hopes in flattering him.

he gets up and stands right in front of you. he looks at you, “what was so funny about putting a gojo-patterned tie in my closet?”

you nearly bend over laughing when you recall what you did, but you compose yourself.

your husband isn’t pleased.

“you will have to repay me for that,” he says and you pout.

“how exactly will I do that, my lovely kento?”

he takes a hold of your hand and takes you to the bedroom with a smile, “an uninterrupted night with me.”

you chuckle and ask, “cuddles and kisses?”

“and more if you want; I am all yours.”

in the end, nanami feels and knows that he will never want you guys to stop how you fill his life with colors and laughter.

“haha! dad, I drew on your face!”

or maybe he wishes it would be toned down a bit.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i will bite you

[bridgeicesbeforeroadif]

Bridge Ices Before Road!

Links: DEMO-PATREON-FORUM

Updated 10/29/24

~Summary~

Was there anything that could get between you and a gold medal?

Well, yes. A lot of things. There’s your family, including your annoying younger sibling. Moving back home with them will be tough, but it allows you to focus on your gains. There are competitions to win, and you have to stay in peak condition all the while. You also have your mother breathing down your neck to make sure nothing jeopardizes your chances at success. Your father is more hands-off. He almost always has half of his mind on work, even when he’s at home.

Your coach will guide you through the ups and downs of skating, as they’ve never let you down before. They remind you of your father a bit, never able to fully turn off part of their brain that thinks about work. You hope they remember to relax, and let you do the same.

Your childhood friend-turned-rival is always one step ahead of you these days. They beat you out as part of the top couple in the pairs free skate last year, and since then you haven’t been able to top their performances. You used to be friends, but now there was a fire in their eyes when they looked at you. Will you be able to mend this friendship?

Even worse, you run into an old bully of yours (that you might secretly have had a crush on since forever ago) who has just been appointed the captain of the local hockey team. He plays at your local rink now, and that means you’ll be seeing each other more than you’d like.

You find a friend in a fellow skater who becomes something of a pen-pal to you. They reach out over social media, and there’s an instant connection. They’re a total sweetheart, and you can’t wait to meet them at the first event.

 Finding your place again in your old hometown might sound tough, but nothing is tougher than being an Olympic athlete. You have to juggle training along with all that, but you try not to let it get you down. After all, skating is your passion!

Don't let the creepy figure outside your bedroom at night get you down. If you ignore it, it will be fine. It was just your imagination... right? Draw the curtains, drink some warm milk, and put on some music to drown out the haunting song whistled into the gaps in your windows. Tonight, you escape into your dreams knowing all the exits are locked up tight and there's no way in. It's all in your head.

But remember, escaping isn’t always an option.

~Features~

Customize your MC! Name, sexuality, appearance, hair, eyes, clothing, and more! (MC is genderlocked female)

Find friendship or romance in the least likely places! Each route has its own ups and downs with tailored story-telling.

Get stalked by a really big fan. No, I mean like a REALLY big fan. They know things about you that no one else does! Will you get away? Or will you be unable to stop their villainous plot?

Win (or lose) against the best skaters in the country– and the world!

~Romance Options~

Dallas Doverman

 male/6’0/20yo

 The hockey team captain. He bullied you in elementary and middle school. You can select whether or not you had a crush on him. They certainly had one on you, and that’s why they picked on you so much, not that you knew. Nowadays, instead of helping his dad around at the skate rental and pulling your pigtails, he plays ice hockey with the big boys. He was the youngest on the team, but still made captain in such a short time.

Dallas is tall and broad. His straight black hair is longer on top and rests above his ears, trimmed short on the sides. He’s grown a lot and lost that old baby fat that clung to his cheeks. A dark beard forms on his face, but doesn’t fully block out his skin.

Vincenzo/Valentina Ciolfi

 selectable m or f/5’8 or 5’5/18yo

 They were once your friend. Then, you went to Boxcroft and they didn’t. It was a shock to everyone, V included.  They swore to get better and become your superior someday. You hadn’t expected it to affect your relationship, but it did. You drifted apart, their hostility ever-growing and there was nothing you could do about it. 

With dewy, caramel skin and shoulder-length golden brown and almost blonde locs kept in a low ponytail, V just screams “over it.” They did not care enough to do anything to their hair or pick out a nice outfit. They do that for competitions, and that’s enough.

Argo/Allegra Papandreou

 Selectable m or f/5’10 or 5’6/28yo

 Your coach. They were just like you, hailed as a prodigy until they graduated school, then they stopped being a rising star and became a plateauing one. You followed their career almost religiously, and always wondered what changed. They only started coaching for you. Before that, they worked in accounting, the business for which they got their degree. You couldn’t believe that was what happened to the Starchild of Skating in the 2010’s. They saw real talent in you at a young age and changed career paths. You hope you weren’t a mistake.

Dark brown hair falls in waves over Argo’s ears. Anita wears hers long, down to her waist. They are leanly muscled, but toned all over. Even after years of being out of the game, they had not let their body grow flabby or let it fall out of use. They look as ripped as they did in their teens when they stole the show at Nationals when they were your age.

Bernhard Wagner

 male/6’5/20yo

 Someone that will eventually face you at the Olympics, you think. He’s friendlier than a competitor has any right to be and reached out to you in your private messages on Blipsta. He always speaks in a really cute way, with all kinds of emojis. He complimented your technique and you got to talking. He made it so easy to open up to him.

You don’t know what Bernhard looks like, not really. He did tell you that he’s tall and has blonde hair, but you kind of expected that. You guess you just have to wait to meet him.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 9

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, mention of death, very likely typos

Words: 1342

The One I Want Masterlist

“Can you see?”

“Yes,” Jake says, leading you across the sand with only the moon illuminating his path to the shore. But even that can hardly be considered sufficient, to you at least, as night’s clouds move at a good pace, frequently dulling the glow. Your toes dig into the grains in an effort to find some sense of balance in the darkness, but you're no better than a newborn deer, remaining steady only by Jake’s firm hand. “Don’t step there.”

You’re pulled to the left just before your bare foot lands on a sharp shell and you stumble into his side. “Why did you want to tell me here?”

“I like it here.” Abruptly stopping, Jake drops onto the sand. “This is a good spot,” he says, then releases your hand to pat the sand in front of where he sits. 

“You want me to sit there?”

“Mhmm.”

“Between your legs?”

He glances down to the spot in question before staring back up at you. “That’s the idea,” he says. At the apprehension on your face, Jake snickers and lightly wraps his fingers around your wrist, his thumb smoothing over the delicate skin above your pulse. “Come on, you know I don’t bite.”

“You haven’t had much of an opportunity to bite.”

Jake laughs louder, his head briefly throwing back before he raises a brow. “You were on my lap a few hours ago, but this is where you draw the line?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope, just trying to get my bearings.”

His smile is impossible to deny. It’s bright and wide and you feel it tugging at your insides, making you want to spread your lips in a grin of your own and nestle yourself into the space he has made for you. Taking a couple of steps forward, you ease yourself down in front of him. When you are where he wants you, he scoots closer until his legs flank your hips and he wraps his arms around your waist, guiding your back against his chest. Any of the budding hesitancy at his closeness on this beach slips away. 

“See, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes at the playful smugness in his voice and concede. “Fine.”

He doesn't speak again, not for a bit, and in that time the clouds learn to avoid the moon. It reflects clearly off the waves, helping your vision adjust to the darkness, and suddenly you can appreciate why he likes it. It is peace in its closest physical form. And it tells you plenty before Jake even opens his mouth for another word. Whatever he plans to tell you, he wants to balance it out with something within his control: his surroundings. 

“Are you sure you want to tell me?” you ask.

“You more than anyone,” he says. His breath sways the stray hairs by your ear. “It’s not a long story.”

“For whose convenience? Not for mine, right?”

“Not for anyones, it’s just doesn’t contain many added details.” You nod to let him know you understand, then with an exhale heavy enough to shoot a bolt of anxious energy through you, he begins. “I was eighteen, and getting ready to leave for the Academy soon. My sister Amy was already studying at a university about five hours from our town in Texas, but she was coming home for the summer and, as perfect parents do, they went to get her rather than have her find other means of transportation. My father took off work that day just to drive hours with my mother to bring home their daughter when most kids were spending their money on plane and train tickets to get home,” he says. “They were on their way back, and they, um…” With his pause, his head shakes behind you before his chin perches atop your shoulder. You try to twist to face him but his arms encompassing you don’t allow it. For a minute, he just breathes. He stares where you stare, at the waves crashing over the shore before they slink back to join the rest of the ocean. He hears what you hear: the movement of the water, your synchronized inhales and exhales, but hopefully not the pounding of your heart. When his head lifts he presses a kiss to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet. His next words you can feel before they leave his lips. “They didn’t come back.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “H-How?”

“Rain,” he mutters. “Poor luck.”

Your hand slides along his forearm until your fingers are resting over his. He spreads them enough for you to sneak yours in between. “Jake–”

“It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it in a lot of ways,” he says. “Anyway, my grandmother stayed with me at the house while everything was arranged and settled, and a few months later, I left.”

“Did you still want to go?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “They would’ve wanted me to go, so I did. But I realized I was about to be by myself for the first time in my life and I couldn’t believe how much it terrified me when just a couple of months before I was so excited for that freedom. I knew people would be everywhere at the Academy, but I didn’t know any of them.”  

You think of him lost and alone, so unlike the man you know him to be, and instead, so much like yourself. In one place and then another. Familiar with the faces surrounding him and then not. Parents, and then no parents. It doesn’t matter that Jake is stronger than you in every way nameable, finding resilience in the face of such tragedy is damn near impossible, and it breaks your heart for him.

“But then we were assigned roommates,” he continues, “and mine just happened to be decent enough to help me survive the year.”

“Javy?”

Jake hums in agreement. “It’s not that I can’t be alone. I’ve lived alone before, but I like having someone around, sharing my space. It just hasn’t always worked out too well.” His arms tighten around your waist and he shifts as if it might help pull you in closer. The warmth of lips lay a line of kisses up your neck, stopping just below your ear. “But sometimes it does,” he whispers. 

There are more kisses. They make their way over sections of your skin. He presses them into the curve of your jaw, into your shoulder, and when he pushes your hair aside, a few are planted on the back of your neck. Your eyelids flutter and close as you let yourself meld with the tingling sensation. 

“I need to ask you something,” he says softly, and you hum. “You said this is your eleventh new place.” Your eyes shoot open. “Do you intend for there to be a twelfth?”

Swallowing, you reply, “I never intended for there to be an eleventh, or tenth, or nin–”

“You know what I’m asking, beautiful.”

You do, because it’s something you’ve asked yourself plenty of times. No, you don’t intend for there to be a twelfth, but your moves between towns are not planned. They are dependent on the actions of others which are not within your control. You want to stay with Jake, in this town, with people who didn’t think twice about accepting you, but you’re not delusional as to the possibilities awaiting you that might rip everything away. “Jake, I don’t want to leave.”

“Good.” Again, he rests his chin on your shoulder, and again, he lets moments pass in silence. Then he says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, it’s my birthday next week. Nat’s setting up a party at Penny’s bar. I want you to come but if you’re uncomfortable being there I understand.”

“I’ll come,” you say, because you’re well aware it’s the least you could do for him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Though you can’t see it, Jake’s smile radiates. “Thank you.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : pregnancy ; miscarriage ; major angst ; Word Count : 3.5k

“Felix!” You squealed as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his nose nuzzling against your cheek as the softest chuckle filled your ears that his lips were right beside. Kisses were peppered against any surface he could reach as he swayed your body’s side to side, your own instinctively relaxing against him. “Remember what I said, right?” You murmured, tilting your head up to glance at him, his eyes twinkling with excitement even though he was dramatically pouting at you. 

“I know, I know.” He grumbled, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles against your stomach. “No telling STAY until the 5th month…” He sighed, his chin falling against your shoulder. “I’m just so excited, and I know they’ll be just as excited as I am when they hear about it.” 

You knew he was excited, you had recorded his reaction when you had surprised him with the news that you were pregnant on his birthday. The little “Congratulations Dad” card slipped in between the birthday card that you had gotten him, and you were so glad that you had decided at the last minute to film him opening the card. His reaction was genuine and precious, and the tears that filled his eyes as he looked up at you with a questioning smile, awaiting your reassurance that it wasn’t just some prank before jumping off the couch and engulfing you in a hug… It had all been enough to bring tears to your own eyes as you continued to assure him that yes, you really were pregnant. 

Sometimes you felt that he was even more excited than you were, and you were only just now entering your 3rd month. Felix had all but started the nursery for the baby by now, the names had already been picked out, and while you wanted the news to be kept from the fans just a little while longer, he was all too eager to tell the guys who shared in his joy about a new family member. He was the best partner to have, when you were feeling your worst and the symptoms were downright awful, he was always there to do his best to help you feel better. That is, until he had to go on tour. 

The announcement of the upcoming world tour was unexpected, and even Felix seemed a little taken back by it. The last thing he planned on doing during your pregnancy was traveling around the world, but you tried to think positively about it, hoping that your positivity would brush off on him and he’d be less reluctant to leave. 

“So you’re sure you don’t need me to stay here with you?” Felix posed the question as he stood by the front door, a duffle bag swung over his shoulder. Even though the question was meant to make it seem like you’re the one who’d need him to stay, both of you knew that he wanted you to say yes, he wanted you to give him any reason you could to stay with him. As much as you wanted him to stay though, you knew that it would be selfish, especially when so many fans wanted to see him. 

“I’m sure, babe.” You said the words through little bouts of giggles as you leaned against the wall, waiting to say those final goodbyes before he was gone. It used to be extremely hard to watch him leave, and you’d usually be the one trying to make up excuses just to delay his departure, but you were used to it now. It’s not that it wasn’t sad still, but after 4 years together, you were better at it, you both were, and you had figured out how to work around the time differences so that you could call each other and at least video chat once a day. This time would be no different, you both knew that. “Plus, by the time you finish the tour and you’re able to come back home, I’ll be close to 6 months, you won’t have to wait so long.” 

His head nodded, and as if you had just told him you were pregnant again for the first time, his eyes gleamed with just something else to get excited over. “Alright… You’re right, and then I only have to wait 3 months… Perfect… I don’t like waiting… I just want to meet them…” His eyes formed into thin crescents as his smile widened, his bag dropping to the floor as he walked over to you, his hands cupping your cheeks before pressing a deep kiss to your lips, the suddenness of it giving you a headrush. “I’ll miss you, angel… Keep yourself safe…” He lowered down just enough to brush his fingers along your stomach before giving it a small kiss that had your heart swelling. “And you stay safe too, my little nugget. Don’t give your mom too much trouble.” He rested his forehead against your tummy for a second, letting out a soft sigh, one last opportunity for you to just tell him to stay, but the silence out lasted the opportunity and he slowly got back to his feet, smiling softly to you. “Make sure you send me daily belly pictures, and video call me at doctors appointments so I can be there… Okay? Please?” 

Even with your reassurance, you knew that this was hard for him. This was the most exciting time of his life, not just career wise, but now at home as well. His family was growing, and he had to leave you when you were most vulnerable. It made him feel awful that he wouldn’t be there for you, and no amount of it’s okay’s would make him feel any less awful. It would be rough, but not without reward. He knew that once he got home he’d be with you again, and he wouldn’t have to wait as long either. 

“Felix, we’re about to go on…” Hyunjin whispered, his hand waving in front of the younger member's face to get his attention away from the video call that he was currently on with you. “We have like five minutes, and I know that you’re not going to just hang up on her, you need five minutes just to say goodbye because you do that back and forth thing that’s really cringy.” 

Felixs face scrunched up with embarrassment as his cheeks were flushed a light pink, his head turning to look at Hyunjin. “I do not take five minutes just to say goodbye, and we do not do the cringy back and forth thing. We promised we wouldn’t be like that…” His head quickly turned back to the screen when he heard your snicker that you attempted to muffle. “We don’t do that… Do we?” 

Your lips pursed and slightly turned up at the corners. “What if I said it totally isn’t cringe and I love our 5 minute back and forth goodbyes.” You posed, but your laugh sounded through the speakers as his head fell back and he let out a groan, especially when Hyunjin started laughing too, patting the younger man's shoulder and giving him an I told you so before walking off. “You really need to get out there though…” 

Now that Hyunjin was out of the room, Felix could return to the matter of the call, and as annoying as his hyung was at the moment, it was a welcomed distraction from what the two of you were talking about. “Call me… text me when you get to the doctors… let me know what’s going on, please.” He whispered, his stress sky high, the first time in a while that he’s felt this way before a show and it wasn’t even due to going in front of thousands of fans that he felt this way. 

“I will…” You sighed softly, and even though he could see it in your eyes, in the way you sat on the couch, you were just as worried as he was, you still tried your best to ease his mind and comfort him. “It’s probably nothing though. I’m sure it’s normal. The doctors are probably gonna think I’m silly for coming in for something as small as this.” Your weak chuckle filled the otherwise silent room, but Felix couldn’t laugh with you, he was panicking, and the worst part was that he was on the complete other side of the world right now when he wanted nothing more than to be with you, especially right now. 

“I’m serious, angel… I don’t care if I’m in the middle of dancing. Call me, let me know what’s going on.” He said, more sternly now as the knocks came against his door letting him know time was up. “I love you, I love you so much… And I love our little nugget too. Be safe, okay? Promise me that you’ll be safe, that you’ll let me know.” 

Your head nodded quickly as you blew him a quick kiss. “I’ll text you, pinky promise. I love you more. Call me when you’re done.” You whispered, and he watched you through the phone, wishing that he could hold you, that he could kiss you, that one push of that little red button at the bottom of the screen wouldn’t make your face disappear from his view. The stupid tour was keeping him away from you, and while you tried to hide it from him, he knew that you wanted him there now, you needed him there more than anything right now. 

Felixs mind was completely overtaken by thoughts of you, thoughts of his child as he stood on stage. He couldn’t even focus on the choreography, his steps out of place and he constantly bumped into the other members who, in any other situation, would have gotten annoyed by his continuous mistakes, but they knew he was lost in his own mind, in his own worries about what was going on back at home. 

It took a while for him to even begin to calm down, but the lack of buzzing in his back pocket was, in a way, more comforting than it usually would be. Things were fine, that’s what he kept telling himself, what the guys kept telling him whenever they passed him on the stage. Back pats and intermittent hugs were common, trying to keep him from thinking too much about what was happening or what could be happening. 

What he didn’t know was that back at home in the small little room with the flowers and the smiley faces on the ceiling, you were curled up on the hospital bed, eyes bloodshot from crying as you held the last ultrasound picture you’d receive from this pregnancy that had abruptly ended with no real reason. 

You didn’t call, not yet, not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to deliver the news to him when you knew he was already worried about you, when you knew he was standing on stage in front of thousands of fans. If you told him, he’d definitely run off the stage just to talk to you, trying to find the next available flight to make it home. 

So no, you didn’t call him, but you shot him a quick text, hoping that he wouldn’t check it until after the concert was over. “I’m so sorry, Lixie… Nugget is gone…” Was all the text said, truthfully, you didn’t know how to put it. How were you supposed to tell him something so awful when he was thousands of miles away? All you wanted to do was be held by him and cry with him over the future that was snatched away from the both of you without any warning. 

The vibration in his pocket was something that he had been waiting for, his hand quickly reaching into the back of his jeans to pull it out, pretending that he was about to take a picture. The smile that had been on his face at the thought of the new ultrasound pictures he’d be receiving quickly faded when he read the message notification on his lock screen. 

It took everything, everything for him to not collapse in the middle of the stage right then and there, his eyes already brimming with tears as his arms fell limp at his sides. Fans continued to cheer, adrenaline and excitement emanating from all of them, but he was in his own bubble, his sad, dark cloud filled bubble that all of those joyous emotions bounced off of. 

“Felix?” Chan was the first to notice, rushing over to him and quickly pulling him off to the side of the stage, and it was only then, once out of the spotlight, that Felix allowed himself to crumble under the crashing wave of emotions that washed over him. “Wh-What happened? Talk to me, Felix.” 

But he could only shake his head as the tears rolled down his freckled cheeks, his mouth opened but no words coming out, only small gasps as a shaky hand held out his phone to the leader. What was he supposed to do now? He felt like a failure, he failed to be there for you, to be the boyfriend that would always stand beside you even during the hardest times. This was the worst time for both of you, yet you were going through it alone. 

At this point all the other members were staring at him, the entire venue had fallen silent as every one there focused their attention on the crying man that was just slightly out of view. “I-I don’t know what to do… hyung… What do I do?” Felix whimpered, glassy eyes staring up at the man who, for the first time, didn’t have much of a suggestion. Chan didn’t know how this felt, none of them did, none of the other guys had ever been through something like this, let alone so far away. 

“If you need to go home, then go home, Felix.” Was all Chan could offer, a firm hand planted on the younger man's shoulder. “Y/N needs you way more than we do right now, way more than STAY needs you…” And Felix knew that, the problem was that he didn’t know the first thing to do once he got home. Of course, he’d hold you and he’d tell you that it would be okay even though he’d know that both of you felt the complete opposite of okay. 

How was he even supposed to step foot inside of his home when it would just be a constant reminder of the child that he had already prepared for, a child that he loved so much before even seeing them, a child that had been stolen away from both him and you before either of you got to even meet them. How was he supposed to keep composed enough to even be there for you? 

Even if he didn’t decide to go home, he wouldn’t be able to continue performing. He couldn’t even pretend to be excited, let alone pretend to actually care about the show right now. You, the love of his life, were experiencing what he could only imagine to be the worst possible thing that you could ever have to go through, and there was no way in hell he’d leave you alone any longer than you needed to be. Sure, he didn’t know the first thing he’d say to you, he didn’t even know what to think for himself to calm his own emotions, but the least he could be is there. 

“STAY…” He whispered into the mic, not wanting them to worry if he just ran off stage without a word, and he didn’t want to put the weight on Chans or any of the other members shoulders. They’d have to finish the show, the rest of the tour without him, the least he could do is say goodbye and apologize. “There’s… some things… going on at home right now for me… And I need to get back home to help take care of them…” He choked out the words, his eyes glistening under the spotlight that was casted down on him. “I’m so sorry… I promise to make it up to you when I’m able to… But I need to go now.” 

There were a few sounds of disappointment coming from the crowd, but he knew that the fans, the real fans, would understand and they wouldn’t hold it against him. He didn’t even wait for the words of the other guys as he rushed off stage, fingers working quickly to undo the mic that he was wired with. Now that that was over with, you were the only thing on his mind. 

Tears fell down his face in the solitude of first class on the plane that carried him back home, and most of the flight he slept, unable to keep his eyes open once they got too puffy from crying. He felt like the dictionary definition of a train wreck right now, the makeup that had been put on him before the concert had yet to be cleanly removed, the small amount of eyeliner and eyeshadow blotchy under his eyes from wiping them too much. He didn’t care who might see him or the photos that would come out if any were taken. One day he’d tell the world about what happened, and that day they’d understand why he looked this way, but for now, their words would mean nothing to him, their reports were pointless and false. They could say anything they wanted, nothing would ever hurt him as much as the small two sentence text that he had gotten on stage. 

He knew that you’d be upset, he had, in some sense, prepared for that, but he couldn’t have possibly prepared himself enough for the heartbreaking image of you curled up on the couch, your arms wrapped around your stomach and your entire body shuddering from the lingering sniffles that came after your sobs. Your head slightly lifted at the sound of his entrance, both of your eyes bloodshot as they met from across the room. “I’m… I’m so sorry, angel…” He said softly as he made his way over to you, dropping down onto the floor beside you on the couch. You were surrounded with balled up tissues that had been used to cry into and wipe whatever tears clung to your cheeks. 

Seeing you from a distance had been heartbreaking, but now seeing you up close, the way your upper lip was raw and puffy from roughly wiping your nose, your hair dampened by the tears that fell into it, your eyes barely even able to open from how much you’ve cried… It was heart shattering, like the broken pieces that had been left over were now being stomped on and kicked around. “They d-don’t know… why… it h-happened…” You shakily said between shortened breaths, your lips chapped from your open mouthed breathing. “You… were s-so ex-excited… and… I’m s-sorry… Lix…” 

He quickly shushed you, his fingers quickly brushing away the loose strands of hair that clung to your forehead. “It’s not your fault… It’s not…” He cooed, leaning his forehead against yours as his hands moved down to cup your cheeks. “And I’m not going to leave you. I promise, I’m going to stay by your side no matter what…” It was a solid promise, one that he wasn’t going to break. If you wanted to stay on the couch the entire time, he’d stay seated on the floor beside you. If you wanted to lay in bed all day and be held by him, he’d do that if it meant that even the slightest bit of pain you were feeling right now would subside. 

This is why he’s here… It’s for you and solely for you, because even though the pain he’s feeling right now is bad, he can only imagine how much harder it was for you. You had been told the news while you were by yourself, you had to process those emotions on your own, and then you had to go back to the empty house and continue to process those emotions by yourself. You had been the one carrying the baby, and even if it was only for a short 3 months, you had already loved the baby. Felix had caught you on many occasions smiling to yourself as your hand absentmindedly circled over your stomach. Now it was empty, you were empty. He had left for tour, excitedly awaiting coming home and only having to wait 3 more months to meet his child, and now that child was just… gone. There was no family to look forward to, not any time soon, not anymore. Home is where his heart is, you are his heart, you had it entirely. He loved coming home usually… But right now, home is where hurt is, hurt and devastation and shattered dreams. 

[justporo]

By candlelight

A/N: Ah yes, you know the drill by now. I play barbies with @velnna's Staeve. And quite often so lately. If you followed me for Astarion, guys, I'm so sorry - but at least he's always in here as well! So this was inspired by something @reijenhere said, namely something along the lines of: what if Astarion notices Staeve has grown first grey hairs. So here we are, thanks again @velnna for letting me play with your son and @reijenhere for the inspo, mwa!

~~~

Astarion woke up in the middle of the night - shaken by nightmares like he sometimes still was. No matter how many years had passed.

The candle on the nightstand hadn’t fully burned down to its butt yet. So warm light still spilled from it, drawing long shadows on the pale elf as he slowly sat up with a silent moan leaving his lips, trying to not wake his partner beside him.

Staeve was sleeping peacefully on his stomach, one arm absentmindedly wrapped around Astarion’s waist, even in his dreams. As if he had felt that his love might need an anchor tonight.

The vampire felt the comforting weight of it as he pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes, leaning his head back against the wooden headboard. With deep breaths, he tried to let the unsettling memories and fear be washed away - piece by piece with every wave of air. Unknowingly adjusting to the calm rhythm of Staeve’s body rising and falling beside him.

And when his tension had eased enough to feel rooted in the present once more, he lifted his hands from his eyes and let them rest gently on Staeve’s arms. One wandered up over it, fingers tapping over the hairs and freckles softly before they wandered further over his shoulder and neck, then his jawline and one pointy ear before they lightly curled in dark green hair.

Astarion observed how the softly flickering light from the candle painted his lover’s skin and added a warm orange sheen to his hair. How it reflected on their matching pair of silver bands on their fingers.

He kept caressing his unaware lover, counted some freckles on his arm while feeling the fine hairs there beneath his fingertips, with his other hand curling strands of silky moss green around his fingers. Astarion’s shoulders slowly relaxed, the steep wrinkle between his drawn together brows flattened as crimson eyes kept wandering over the form of the resting half-drow, along with pale, light fingers.

Then all at once his eyes and hands came to a stop.

The vampire’s eyes were suddenly trained on a single strand of Staeve’s hair twirled around his fingers.

Something there wasn’t catching the light quite like the rest.

In fact, now that he had spotted it, it was blatantly obvious: a single hair that shone brightly in a sea of green. Silver, like the wedding rings on their hands.

Astarion stared at it, eyes wide, his whole body right back to being as tense as it had been moments ago, the wrinkle between his brows deeper than before.

It was hard to spot, even for a vampire and his heightened senses, barely more than a needle in a haystack. Staeve probably hadn’t even noticed.

But once noticed it was impossible for Astarion to overlook.

When he finally dared to let his eyes move further he quickly spotted more: single, painfully light hairs peeking through; on his arm too.

As another kind of dread than before slowly rose up within him, Astarion’s gaze jumped to his lover’s face. And he saw it there too, now that he was aware of it: how the lines around those lips and eyes had become a little deeper, more threatening to be drawn soon.

Staeve was inevitably growing older. While Astarion was doomed to never change.

Thankfully, at this moment the candle died out as it reached its end. It left the room in merciful darkness, forcing the vampire to lose sight of this harsh truth.

He sat there in darkness for a few more moments longer with his mind racing.

Then, void of anything else to do, Astarion softly took Staeve’s arm as he laid down beside him again. Unconsciously in his sleep, Staeve groaned lightly, turned to his side and drew his partner in closer with his arm looped around him until they were neatly cuddled up on their sides.

Astarion was left with his thoughts running through his head.

But he felt the steady rhythm of Staeve’s heartbeat and his warmth slowly sleeping in, his smell and the reassuring weight of the arm wrapped around his waist. 

Despite himself Astarion noticed how he was softly pulled back to hopefully more pleasant dreams, his body slowly falling victim to his lover’s calming presence.

Something that, despite anything else, hadn’t changed yet.

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 10 - Terms and Conditions

Now that you're part of the crew, it's time to set some ground rules.

WC: 4k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

You sat sleepily in Heat's lap, well, not his lap really, more like the middle of his tail. It was coiled in a tight spiral, your rump sat firmly atop it, your back pressed against his warm chest and his warm arms around your center. His naturally hot body temperature soothed the aches you still had from yesterday, he was taking such good care of you, knowing how worn out you were from taking most of the crew. He graciously hadn't attempted to mount you, but he hovered close by, which was welcomed given his sweet doting and care you were very much in need of. Your joints ached from the positions you'd been in for such a long period of time and your pussy was raw and aching. You didn't speak more than needed and Killer had provided soft foods, knowing your jaw was stiff from all the pussy eating and cock sucking you'd done. You were happy though. You felt content, and finally safe and secure in your position here. Well, as safe as you could be, now that you were officially a pirate.

“Now then Mouse,” Kid grinned, “let's make things official, aye? We believe ya story now, or at least we're trying our best to. It's still hard to accept yer from another universe. But you've at least proven your usefulness to us, so ya can stay on the crew. How bout it, Mouse? Ya wanna join my crew?”

“Yes captain,” you smiled sleepily, “will my job here be as your… bed warmer?”

“Aye, you'll be our ship whore,” Kid smirked, “only for the four of us here though, unless we decide to give someone a night with ya as a reward. You good with that?”

“Yes captain, as long as my boundaries are respected,” you stated.

“Of course lass,” Kid replied, “Wire will draw up a contract for ya later. He's the most knowledgeable here, he'll make sure your boundaries are laid out for us. Everyone we let have you will be made clear of your conditions. You're still up for the four of us free using you, aye? It was your original offer. I did let you live, after all.”

“Within limits, yeah,” you responded, trying to not let your lust-addled brain distract you from an important conversation. Being free used by four big, strong, attractive, well endowed men? Ohhhh what a horror, the worst thing you could imagine. “I like what we've got going on. Will I be given a share of the loot like the others?”

“Of course lass,” Kid chuffed, “if anything you'll be paid better. You'll be saving us a great deal of money by servicing us instead of having to spend money on island whores. We'll give you your own room, for convenience. Everyone else shares but the four of us, but I'm not sure anyone is keen on losing sleep whenever we have need of ya. There's a lounge in the castle we barely use, we'll have it cleared out for ya. We're on our way back to Sabaody as we speak, you can go to the shops and get whatever you need to get set up once we dock. We'll back pay you for your time since ya started servicing us.”

“Thank you captain,” you replied gratefully. You didn't expect him to pay you for your time as a prisoner. “That's generous of you. I won't let you down.”

“You'll probably find your bed doesn't get much use, unless you're in need of a break,” Kid continued with a chuckle, “but it'll give you somewhere to keep your shit anyway.

“Speaking of resting,” you interjected, “I had a bit of an idea. In terms of the free-using. I was wondering if you'd make me a more long term wearable collar, something that won't irritate my skin, thin perhaps. With a tag that has your jolly roger. I thought maybe we could use it as a signal, if I'm not wearing the collar then I'm in need of rest.”

“EXCELLENT IDEA!” Kid roared, spooking you a little as he thumped his fist against the table, “I'll make ya a collar that'll make everyone jealous of ya!”

“Thank you, captain,” you smiled, nuzzling sleepily against Heat's bicep.

“Tired, Mouse?” Kid smirked.

“Mmm,” you mumbled, “I feel like I'm hungover from yesterday. Drunk on dick I guess. And pussy.”

Killer and Wire snorted while Kid made a boisterous laugh. “Before you fall asleep,” Killer jumped in, “is there anything we need to know for the immediate future?”

“Mmm,” you mumbled, trying to sit upright, to which Heat helped you, nuzzling his face against your back, “you need to get the ship coated before Ace's execution, cos after that the only coater I know will be busy.”

“Where do we find him?” Wire asked.

“You're all familiar with the coater already, in fact you met him the other day,” you alluded, “Silvers Rayleigh, he can coat the ship. You'll find him, or at least his wife, Shakky, in grove thirteen at Shakky's Rip-Off Bar. You unintentionally helped his friend rescue that mermaid by helping the Straw Hats escape, so he should be amenable to coating the ship.”

“He's the coater?” Kid exclaimed, “the fuck is the ‘Dark King’ doing coating ships?”

“Paying for his alcoholism, mostly,” you yawned, making the others snort laughs.

“Alright then Sleeping Beauty,” Kid laughed, before his smile fell to a more serious expression, “we don't have to worry about this whole execution shit, right?”

“There'll be a war, but your crew won't be involved,” you replied, “it'll all happen over at the marine base. You'll just see it on a screen on Sabaody.”

“Alright then,” Kid huffed, pleased and relieved with your answer. It was no secret that there was tension in the air regarding the execution and whether returning to Sabaody was even safe tight now. There were reports that Whitebeard was on the move to save Ace, and it made Kid uneasy, but he trusted your prediction, you hadn't let him down thus far. “Go get some rest then princess, we promise we'll behave till you're up to it. I'll have that collar for ya before your pussy is ready to get destroyed again.”

Kid winked as he stood and grabbed a boob as he passed by, making you squeal and slap his hand playfully as the captain chuckled. You started to stand as well, but Heat swung you onto his back to carry you, making you giggle as you grabbed his horns for support. “Giddy up!” You laughed. He pretended to buck you, which only made you giggle more, Killer shaking his head with a grin under his mask as Heat carried you out. He and Heat were in high spirits, overly relieved and happy that your story had been proven true and you got to stay. You'd promised Heat to do some sunbathing with him on top of the dinosaur skull while the sun was out, it was a good excuse for a nap and a cuddle really.

You hopped off Heat's back as he made it up, he was surprisingly fast and agile in this form. It'd made you curious as to why he didn't use this form more, to which he had told you that it ‘wasn't polite’ to go around in that form, whatever that meant. Maybe it was like how zoan fruit users usually stayed in their human form? Heat laid down first, making a pleased grunt as his head rested on the pillow he'd chucked up here earlier, his long tail stretching along the skull like an arrow pointed at the distant Sabaody that hovered on the horizon.

“I'm really glad you get to stay,” Heat hummed as you got comfy next to him, resting your head on his chest, tucked into the crook of his armpit.

“Yeah, me too,” you murmured back with a big yawn. Heat gave you a soft smile and a little squeeze before the yawn caught him too.

“Alright, ready to get started?” Wire asked, tapping the tip of the feathered pen against the page in front of him, “I've made a list of kinks the crew like to indulge in. You just let me know which ones you're comfortable with. Ready?”

“Yup!” You smiled back sweetly, leaning forward and resting your face in your palm, your elbow against the table. It was just you and Wire in the navigation room, he didn't want you to have the pressure of the others watching you and potentially pressuring you into things you weren't comfortable with.

“First item - free use for the four commanders, under the circumstances that your collar is on. That much I know you're good with, but what about outside of that?” He asked.

“A big maybe,” you replied, “I'm a regular woman without the collar. If they can seduce me, sure. But I reserve the right to deny them without consequence.”

“Okay, seems reasonable,” he replied, the pen making scratching noises as he jotted it down, “I have a list of things you've already participated in, so I'll just run through them quickly so you can confirm them for the contract. Touching of all body parts, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, cunnilingus, blow jobs, deep throating, face fucking, use of strap on, cum on body including face and genitals and inclusive of female cum, cum in mouth, creampies. Threesome, degradation, praise, bathing together, face riding, both giving and receiving, those are the basics, yes to all of the above?”

“Can we make an amendment for no cum near my eyes?” You asked him, “otherwise yes to everything else.”

“No cum near eyes, got it,” he wrote on the page, “the next set is things you've done that are on the more intense side. Gangbang, bukkake, self-wetting, humiliation, somnophilia, exhibitionism, bondage, pet play and master/servant dynamics, both as dominant and submissive. Amenable to all of those?”

“Somnophilia is the sleep one, yeah?” You queried.

“Aye,” Wire confirmed.

“Okay, yeah that's fine,” you confirmed, “but um… I don't want Heat watching me use the toilet anymore. And I'm not eating out of a bowl or shitting in a litterbox.”

“Noted,” Wire replied, scribbling that down, “you were fine with the self-wetting though? What about other watersports?”

“I've never tried but, I'm not not curious,” you replied unsurely, “the self-wetting was… enlightening.”

“I'll put it down as a maybe, for future experimentation. You can change your mind later if you want, same goes for anything on this list,” Wire assured you, “now for the requests. Anal fingering, mouth to ass, anal sex. Receiving and giving. Thoughts?”

“Yeah, those are fine. I've done a few on the giving end as well, but I guess that person wanted to keep it to himself,” you noted, “just uh… only receiving the whole way with proper lubrication. No spit as lube bullshit unless it's only fingers.”

“Got it,” Wire confirmed, “next up, use of toys such as dildos and vibrators, use of nipple clamps, impact play, with hands and equipment. Bondage such as shibari, cuffs, bed, wall and furniture mounted restraints. Sensory deprivation. Tickling. Forced orgasms. Edging. Thoughts?”

“No to the tickling, limited to impact play. I'm not a fan of pain,” you explained, “light smacking is fine, but you can cross off anything too painful, otherwise yes to everything else.”

“I'll cross off knife play and hook suspension,” Wire said as his pen ran a line through several items, “next set. Foot play, non-con roleplay, softcore roleplay such as maid, fisting, sex under the influence of alcohol and drugs, use of purpose built furniture such as breeding benches, double penetration, of separate holes and of multiple cocks in one hole.” Wire looked at you expectantly, his pen paused over the page.

“Uhh, no to fisting,” you ran through the list in your head trying to make sure you remembered everything, “um… yes to one in the ass, one in the cunt. Maybe to two in my cunt, I've never tried. Definitely no to two in my ass.”

“I think you could manage two in one,” Wire smirked, “as long as I wasn't one of them. You took me so well.”

“Mmm, I certainly want to try,” you hummed, “quit reminding me of your big beefy cock or I won't be able to concentrate.”

“We're almost done,” Wire snorted and shook his head, “anything else not on this contract, we'll ask first. You'll be paid the same split as Heat and I get. You'll use the colour system for safe words regardless of if your collar is on or not. Green when prompted to go ahead, orange if something needs to change or you need a break, red if you need to stop. No consequences will come from using the safe words so please don't be afraid to use them. By signing this you agree to remain up to date with your birth control unless an explicit agreement is made to impregnate you, you may expect that from Heat or Killer, Kid and I aren't the type to want babies. If an accident happens, Kid promises not to kick you off the ship. The rest of the crew will keep their hands off you unless you give them permission, otherwise a maximum of once a week we may choose to allow them a night with you as a reward. You won't allow anyone outside of this ship to touch you without permission from your captain. You will remain on this crew unless relieved of your contract by the captain. You'll also be given regular STI screening, as the four of us do, and all other crewmates will be required to use protection with you. Do you agree to all these terms?”

“Sounds good to me,” you hummed, openly ogling Wire's muscular torso, “you wanna fuck?”

“Sign here first,” he shuffled the page over to you and you quickly signed it, biting your lip as he stood and rounded the table. He loomed over you from behind your chair, running his hand up your neck until his hand was sweeping your chin up, forcing you to look at him. You pushed aside the page with its drying ink and sat on the edge of the table, spreading your legs for Wire to slot between them.

“What happened to having a sore cunt?” Wire mused, running his thumb over your lower lip, pressing against the soft flesh. He was all for fucking you, he'd been thinking a lot about your tight cunt and wanted to take his time with you. He worried though that you were ignoring your limits.

“Well you see there's this thing called ‘remembering how fucking big and hot your cock is’ and unfortunately I'm no good at disagreeing with my pussy, she wants what she wants,” you purred back up at him, peeking out your tongue to lick his digit before taking it in your mouth, humming as you sucked his thumb.

“You're so cute when you're being submissive,” Wire grinned, replacing his thumb with his pointer and middle finger and gagging you with them, “I have been wanting to get a taste of that pretty cunt of yours. No collar though,” he hummed, running his finger down your neck and tracing a trail of saliva over where the collar would sit, “so I have to ask, can I taste you, princess?”

“Please do,” you huffed, pulling your legs up so your feet rested on the table, showing off your flexibility as you sat back. You'd never properly redressed after waking up, still just wearing one of Heat's old shirts, large enough to fit as a baggy dress on you, your pussy exposed and inviting underneath. You tugged on the hem of the shirt to reveal yourself to Wire, who hummed appreciatively as he ran his thumb between your folds.

“Already wet for me,” Wire cooed as he knelt, “such a good girl.”

He kissed your thighs softly, making you giggle, before his teeth sunk into the soft flesh and the giggle turned to a moan. He nipped you a few more times before his tongue ran a fat stripe up your cunt, and your hand pushed away his hood to tug at his short hair. His tongue lapped against your pussy as he pulled your legs to rest over his shoulders, giving the occasional suck of your bud that made you whine. He was clearly enjoying himself as well, grunting against your cunt as his tongue bullied its way inside you, licking at your walls while his hand looped over your thigh to thumb your clit. You could feel his pointed sideburns against your thighs as he ate you out, his thumb making small, firm circles on your bud as his thick tongue wiggled inside you.

“Oh fuck that's good,” you moaned, laying back against the table, “just like that, fuck.”

His other hand weaselled up under his chin, the end of his middle finger toying with your asshole and spreading the slick and spit that had rolled down around the ring before sinking in. There was a spark of electricity in your clit as his finger pushed inside your ass, not quite finger fucking you, just toying with your hole for extra stimulation. It made that coil in your stomach pull tight, your back arching off the table as you fisted his hair, holding him tight against you. You could feel the coy grin he made against your cunt, and you made the mistake of looking down, immediately catching his eyes that were watching you carefully from between your legs. Those fucking eyes, they always did something to you, and you threw back your head with a groan, cumming on his tongue, his finger forced out of your ass by the contractions your orgasm made.

He gave you a few more greedy licks that made you shiver before he stood, making a show out of unfastening his pants and laying his thick erection against your stomach as his shorts and briefs pooled at his ankles. He rut his cock between your folds, getting his shaft coated in slick and spit and rubbing against your over-stimulated clit. “You're so pretty like this, blissed out with my cock laying against you,” he noted, “pull your shirt up, I wanna see your tits.”

You obediently did as he asked in your post orgasm daze, squishing and kneading your tits for his enjoyment. He groaned as you pulled at your own nipples, your hips rolling to grind against his shaft on their own accord. “You want it bad, huh? Cute little bunny, horny little thing,” Wire purred, putting more force into the rutting. He took himself in his hand and pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, pushing only the tip in and stretching you out. That on its own was enough to make you whine and try to shift to take more of him. “So greedy, trying to get more already. I'm gonna have fun taking my time with you,” he teased, pulling his tip out and sinking it back in over and over, making you whine at the emptiness each time he removed himself.

“Please!” You begged, “want it, want it so bad.”

“Yeah? You want this?” He asked, suddenly sinking himself in, to what he knew was your limit, before entirely leaving you empty again, his cock rubbing against your clit. “Use your words baby.”

“Want- want your fat cock,” you whimpered, “want it splitting me open. Wanna feel you filling me, please.”

“Such a good girl,” Wire cooed, bullying his cock back inside you, but not moving any further. You only said you wanted it inside you, you never said anything about moving. Wire was a master of restraint, any of the others would have already been fucking your brains out by now, while he enjoyed watching you writhe against the table as he warmed his cock. “That feel good, baby? You like keeping my cock nice and warm?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, “feels so full, hnng. Fuck me Wire, please, please please please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he toyed, before pulling out most of the way and slamming back in, prompting a scream from you at the sudden heavy thrust. He did it over and over, pulling out slowly, then pushing in hard and fast, driving you insane as you got enough stimulation to feel incredible but never enough to sustain the building orgasm, and you got the feeling that was purposeful. Wire was only doing exactly as you asked, he was testing you, teasing you to see how far you would go to beg for it. You reached between your legs to rub your clit, but he quickly grabbed your wrists and folded them against your chest, pinning you down.

“Please,” you begged, “more, please, wanna cum on your cock so bad.”

“How bad do you want it?” Wire teased, “what are you gonna give me in return?”

“Anything!” You cried, “please, anything, please fuck me harder!”

“You're gonna let me frost your face, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day,” Wire growled, “you're not washing it off till bedtime. Everyone's gonna see what a little slut you are.”

“Yes! Yes!” You whined, trying and failing to fight his hold to try and fuck yourself with his cock, “please, please, please.”

“Good girl,” Wire praised, before finally committing to a hard and fast pace that had you shrieking and seeing stars. Your pussy made obscene squelches as he fucked it, Wire making grunts and tightening his grip on your arms as he used you like a cock sleeve, loving the way your pussy was already fluttering around him, so desperate to cum, choking his cock like it was desperate for him to breed you. “You gonna squirt for me, bunny? Gonna make a mess?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, unable to escape his hold as he started to overstimulate you, making you dizzy as you felt your orgasm rushing at you. “C-cumming!” You shouted before your thighs clamped around him and shook hard, cum dripping off the side of the table and on to the rug below, some of it drenching his abdomen. His cock never stopped pumping you, the wet sounds now increased tenfold with the added lubrication while you squealed and writhed before finally stilling with a heavy pant.

“Good whore,” Wire purred, “such a good girl.” You barely heard what he was saying, practically lifeless against the table, all you could do was whimper pathetically. Wire got close to his own peak and pulled out, climbing onto the table and straddling your chest. He pumped his cock over you, pleased by the half-lidded puppy dog eyes you were giving him, too weak and fucked out to do more than lick the end of his cock or feebly suck on the tip when he pushed it between your lips. “Close your eyes sweetheart,” he cooed. No sooner had you closed them did he grunt, and you heard his palm hit the table next to your face for support as the first hot spurts of cum hit your face, aimed mostly for your lips and cheek, some of it getting in your hair. It was a large load, and you could already feel it start to drip as he panted, rolling off you to lay on the table beside you, his legs hanging over the edge while yours were folded up, feet against the edge, knees together and still shaking.

“What do you say?” He teased.

“Th-thank you,” you whined.

“Good girl,” he huffed, before surprising you with his softness as he linked his hand with yours, “you're gonna do well here, and we're gonna take good care of you.”

“Mmm,” you replied sleepily, resting your eyes for a moment and enjoying his warm hand encompassing yours. Later you would go to dinner with Wire's cum still coating your face, sitting in his lap so it was clear to everyone who's cum it was. Everyone told you how pretty you looked, and promised they'd paint you too soon.

[Next Chapter]

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[carrie-tate]

Royal Smile

"Spending time in the company of friends, Todoroki Shoto sincerely wants to learn to rejoice with them. And they are happy to help him with this"

Lee! Todoroki, Ler!Uraraka and Midoriya [+ Iida]

Warnings: none, I guess? fluff, tickles and friendship :3

info: yes, I know you're used to me drawing here and not writing, but inspiration came over me and here we are… I'll tie this to the fact that I've overcome another milestone here. And yes, this is dedicated to the blurry fantasy au inspired by the 2nd ending of season 2

info2: according to the calculations, there are approximately +3.5k words here

***

The situation Shoto found himself in now was like the most banal plot from the books he read in their library. A team of completely different people gathered together, moving towards adventures to defeat a great evil. Midoriya Izuku, a simple and kind guy, an adventurer in its purest form. Ochako Uraraka, a sorceress and a witch, with a clearly positive outlook on life and fire in her eyes. Tenya Iida, a wandering knight who had accompanied the girl on her adventures even before their mutual meeting, clearly had a loyal and friendly disposition.

And himself. Todoroki Shoto. A runaway prince, tired of the pressure of status and his father, decided to accompany these three on their journey. It was a truly fairy tale plot.

Having become the fourth in this motley company, Shoto could already observe the established communication of the other three from the sidelines. Sociable, easy and without any formality. The complete opposite of what he had become accustomed to over the years of living within the palace walls. And it was worth admitting that he was starting to like these people.

Although for now he was still… on the sidelines. The other three did not dare to behave in a casual manner towards him, still taking into account his status and the fact that he might simply not like it. And Todoroki himself, due to his upbringing and simply the lack of proper experience, did not dare to take the first steps himself. Therefore, he remained a little further away, with an eternally thoughtful look.

But as the days passed, this awkwardness melted away like snow in the sun, quickly and imperceptibly. At least more and more often, someone from the company decided to joke with him or talk about all sorts of nonsense. A polite pat on the shoulder from Uraraka immediately became the first step for Shoto in their newly acquired friendship. And Todoroki sincerely wanted to respond to his comrades in the same way. At least try.

So one evening, when the company settled down for a rest at the edge of the forest, the prince made such an attempt. He tried to smile when he and Midoriya were collecting brushwood near the camp and the boy started talking about various plants that he managed to remember in this area and their properties. But seeing Shoto's face, Izuku stopped mid-sentence.

"What's... with your face..?" The young man asks carefully, choosing his words so as not to sound rude.

Todoroki's shaky attempt at a smile immediately disappeared from his face when the prince explained sheepishly.

"I... I was smiling," but it seemed to have turned out differently than planned, Shoto thought then. "Like you do it always..."

"Oh, good, and I already thought you had a cramp," Midoriya said rashly, but then realized how it sounded. Seeing Todoroki's even more gloomy face, he tried to smooth things over. "I mean, no! It wasn't that bad, like—!"

"I guess I don't have that skill at all..." The prince mutters resignedly.

This makes Midoriya sympathize. What kind of life do you have to live to... not have the skill to smile. He shifted the bundle of brushwood in one hand and patted Todoroki on the back with his free hand, trying to cheer him up.

"You don't have to despair that much," the boy says encouragingly when the prince turns his gaze to him. An awkward but sincere smile plays on Izuku's face as he watches Shoto sigh at his words. Midoriya doesn't hold back and honestly admits. "Although you really lack practice..." and then mutters to himself, having this habit of thinking out loud. "Although this usually happens on its own... it's not a skill at all..."

There was an awkward silence, broken by Midoriya's musings out loud, as they were still walking along the forest path, heading back to their camp. Then Todoroki made a completely unexpected request, looking at the boy.

"Can you... teach me?" He said it slowly. Even in a way, embarrassed, but still determined. The prince clearly wanted to get closer to his comrades and was eager to learn something new.

"Teach you?" Midoriya snapped out of his thoughts, blinking his eyes absentmindedly and looking at him. "How to smile?" He thought for a moment, thinking about how unusual it was. But at the same time… Why not? "What a challenge… But I can try."

Now Todoroki could try smiling again, he really wanted to. But the previous unsuccessful experience forced him to only nod very gratefully and expressively. But the prince's eyes clearly sparkled.

They continued walking as Midoriya continued to talk out loud about how exactly he should teach Shoto a skill that was literally natural from birth. He mumbled habitually, taking the new task habitually as a challenge for himself, raising his free hand to his chin.

“Although I don’t even know where to start…” Then he turns his gaze to Todoroki and asks. “What makes you happy? What made you smile last time?”

Walking next to him, the prince thought for a moment. And when was the last time he smiled? Not counting this attempt… Damn, he didn’t remember anything further than early childhood. And from there, the memories were too blurry. That is, he had absolutely no idea what to say to this. Shoto sheepishly admits:

“I… I don’t know.”

Midoriya frowned slightly, it sounded… seriously gloomy. "Has he really never smiled at anything for so many years?", Izuku couldn't help but think as he absentmindedly suggested:

"What, you didn't even have jesters in your castle…?"

"There were, but I never found them funny," Todoroki replied. He recalled the palace walls and its customs with obvious irritation.

"What, nothing at all?" Midoriya was horrified, even standing still for a moment, surprising Shoto. "No favorite book, no favorite music? I thought life in the palace should be filled with balls or other… celebrations?"

Todoroki also frowned at all of the above. Yes, he had read many books, they replaced people for him at times, but he wouldn't say that he could single out even one as his favorite. As for the celebrations and balls…

“They’re not nearly as fun as you might think,” the prince says. “There’s more hypocrisy and royal intrigue…”

“You don’t have to continue!” Midoriya interrupts the boy in a slight panic, realizing that he’s said something stupid again. He sighs as they continue approaching the camp. The situation turned out to be even more neglected than Izuku had assumed, and this clearly worried him. “But is it really nothing at all..?”

Todoroki thought about all this too. In fact, there was one thing that made him happy. Well, at least it looked like it. And he decides to suddenly voice it.

“I think our journey makes me happy,” in his usual neutral, thoughtful tone, but there was a sincere feeling of recognition in it. “Before you all, I didn’t feel so… appropriate.”

Izuku looked back at the prince with wide eyes. He had to admit, such a confession clearly touched him. Midoriya could even shed tears, but he held back. The guy smiles stupidly and nods.

“Well, then our goal now is for it to stay that way,” He answers when they have already approached the rest stop.

At this time, Ochako was once again sorting through the contents of her backpack. After all, any self-respecting sorceress should be aware of what she has and what she lacks. Herbs, flasks, notes, usually by the evening it all always got mixed up in one heap. Tenya, who was sitting next to her, was making sure that the hastily lit fire didn't go out before Midoriya and Todoroki arrived.

At the moment the two returned, Uraraka was examining, shaking and listening to a handful of crystals that she also carried with her, gathered into one chain on a string. The crystals rattled beautifully against each other, producing a quiet, pleasant music. But noticing how her friends came out into the clearing, Ochako immediately put this treasure aside, waving her hand at the guys. Mydoriya's words didn't go unnoticed by Iida.

"What's the goal?" The straightforward knight immediately asked.

Midoriya hesitated with his answer. He couldn't say so directly about Todoroki's request. He looked back at the prince and finally convinced himself that he didn't need to tell the details. Izuku laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," he waved it off and finally put the brushwood on the ground near their fire. The guy decided to change the subject and his gaze fell on the crystals Ochako had left. He hadn't paid attention to them before, but now he saw this as an ideal excuse to change the topic. "And what is this?"

***

And now the conversation had flown in a completely different direction, where Uraraka, with her usual enthusiasm, was talking about her magical things. And then all three of them, plus Todoroki, who sat down next to them, discussed music, until the topic touched on dancing. It seemed that all three of them somehow remembered how they had a fun time listening to music with their cared ones.

“Now it’s clear why Midoriya had such an opinion about the festivities in the palace…” Shoto thought to himself, acting as an attentive listener. “It seems that others have it much… more fun.”

And the guy felt a slight prick from the opportunities he had missed. Only because he was unlucky enough to be born in these pompous royal conditions without the simple joys of life. But before he could fully immerse himself in his thoughts, Uraraka attracted everyone’s attention. She jumped to her feet and, folding her hands together in an energetic gesture, suggested.

“Let’s dance! I’ve missed it so much!” And as the most enthusiastic girl, she picked up her magic staff from the ground and immediately tried to remember a suitable trick for this.

A couple of magic words, a couple of ringing melodic crystals suspended from the nearest tree branch, and now soft music was heard throughout the clearing. Todoroki raised his eyebrows, once again convinced of the fairytale nature of the events he found himself in.

Midoriya was the first to be dragged off to dance, when Ochako pulled him by the arms with a wide smile. At first, the surprised boy kept stumbling, looking at his feet, until he finally relaxed and began to dance with the girl. Todoroki looked at them, then at Tenya, the knight restrainedly did not immediately give in to the fun of his friends.

But soon enough, Iida was dragged along. When even he, who seemed usually constrained by armor and rules, twisted dance steps that were more reminiscent of the movements of the hands of a clock in their precision than the wild jumps and turns from his sorceress friend. Todoroki looked at them with a mixture of envy and embarrassment, when Midoriya suddenly extended his hand to him with a wide smile.

And the persuasion that Shoto did not know the same dances as his friends did not help. The dances that he saw in the palace were more constrained and much more reserved... Fake, as the prince thought then. But he did not know how to real dance. But he was still raised to his feet and carried away to everyone else.

A step, a second, a third. Here he stumbled. Here he awkwardly tried to repeat the movement, turned and almost fell. But he was immediately caught back by the hands and put upright. The sounds of music and laughter mixed in his head. For the first time, Todoroki was not on the sidelines. He participated. He was a part of something. And this awareness spread in his chest with a pleasant warmth.

And this feeling made him want to smile, and it seemed that this time it was for real. But Shoto did not have time to consciously think about it. Uraraka, carried away by the dance, absentmindedly collided with him, nudging the prince in the side with her elbow. And before Todoroki could even think, a quiet gasp escaped his mouth.

There was silence, even the music died down. None of the three of them had heard such sounds from the prince in all these days. Izuku and Tenya exchanged confused glances when Ochako, assuming the worst, immediately rushed to apologize.

"Oh-oh, I'm so sorry, wait, did that hurt?"

"No," Shoto managed to answer confusedly. Honestly, he himself did not understand what happened. It happened so quickly that he himself did not realize why he... Almost screamed. Therefore, he assumed the most obvious thing for himself. "You... just caught me off guard, everything is fine."

The sorceress looked at Todoroki in confusion. At first, she was glad that she did not hurt him. But then she wondered why he reacted so... much. A wild thought crossed her mind, and Uraraka's face immediately blossomed into a grin of a guess as she asked.

"Wait, are you ticklish...?"

And in Todoroki's place, anyone would have been horrified by the mischievous sparkle in the girl's eyes. But Shoto didn't react at all, looking at Ochako with confusion and trying to understand what she was asking him about.

"Am I what..?"

"Huh? You don't know what this is?" Uraraka was surprised, even stopping her grin, although seeing his bewilderment, all three of them were confused.

In response, the prince shook his head, looking at the others and realizing that it seemed like he had missed something else in his life, something that everyone seemed to know. Midoriya tried to explain everything to him, speaking awkwardly.

“Well, it’s when one person touches another and…” The guy awkwardly gestures, trying to describe something so familiar and simple to him. “And they laughs..?”

Todoroki frowned, analyzing what he heard. This description did not fit anything from his life experience. And he could hardly imagine it. Midoriya was confusedly trying to think of a way to explain it clearly, but then Uraraka solved the problem.

“Something like that.”

Her thin hands quickly made their way under the breastplate of Iida's armor, squeezing his sides. Immediately causing a surprised wheeze from the knight, when he almost instantly almost folded in half, giggling, trying to move away from the girl. It was just the seconds.

Todoroki raised his eyebrows in surprise as the girl finally took her hands off her friend with a satisfied smirk. Tenya stumbled back, trying to catch his breath from the sudden attack.

“Uraraka!” The knight looked at her, trying to look menacing and angry, but it was clear that he was still smiling himself.

“I needed a demonstration.” The girl shrugged lightly, smiling innocently.

“You could have demonstrated it on someone else…”

Todoroki watched as Ochako snickered at Iida's frivolous indignation. At the same time, Shoto was trying to comprehend the whole process. It seemed simply crazy to him, could a simple touch to a certain spot in a certain way make someone laugh? And it seemed completely out of control…

At the same time, Izuku, who no one was paying attention to yet. He was also thinking. He analyzed Shoto's sudden reaction to this poke, suddenly deciding on a rash stupidity. The guy reached his hands to the prince's waist, when his fingers dug into his sides.

Todoroki's eyes instantly opened wider in surprise from the sudden contact. He didn't even think that Midoriya would think of such a thing. Exactly the same scream, even a squeak, burst out of his lungs from a shocking unfamiliar sensation, and after that, a quick and uncontrollable stream of giggles immediately followed.

"A-Ahhaha— Wh-What?"

And it was… A charming sound. Hoarse from unfamiliarity, but quickly revealed as a quiet and pretty laugh, which the guy honestly tried to suppress. It was worth admitting, no one expected such an immediate reaction. Iida and Uraraka were distracted from their joke argument and stared at Todoroki in amazement. At the same time, Midoriya rather only became more inspired, continuing to poke the prince here and there with curiosity, striking laughter out of the young man like sparks from flint.

Which Todoroki couldn't stop! It really was impossible to control, everything inside was shrinking into a lump from the influx of a new, unexplored feeling. Each new touch seemed to make laughter bubble in his throat with renewed vigor and burst out. Shoto did not even immediately realize that he could try to escape.

And when he tried, he took such a shaky step back that he stumbled and fell onto the grass, breathing heavily and hugging himself with his arms, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The smile was still firmly on his face when he hesitantly opened his closed eyes.

And he saw the three of them standing above him, exchanging glances, unable to contain their own giggles as they all seemed to share the thought that he looked… adorable. The smile did suit the prince unironically, and for the first time he looked alive, rather than as if he was lost in his own thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Midoriya asks, smiling slightly apologetically as he squatted down next to Todoroki.

It seemed that Todoroki managed to nod and say that he was fine. Only now did the boy notice how hot his own face seemed to him now. Shoto continued to lie on the ground, looking at his comrades, suspiciously noticing the smirks with which (even the usually serious Iida) they exchanged glances.

“Then fine!” The sorceress clapped her hands, suddenly kneeling on the ground next to them. On the other side of him, across from Izuku.

Todoroki was starting to get nervous about this… but not in a bad way. And when he raised his head, he saw that Tenya had also ended up lowering himself to the ground behind his head. The prince thought that he was surrounded, and he was clearly not mistaken. Because when he belatedly inquired about what these three were up to, Midoriya immediately answered him:

“Well, you wanted to learn how to smile,” a bright smile played on the boy’s face, in which a mischievous plan was clearly hidden. "I think now is the time."

And before Shoto could object, he felt Izuku's fingers move along his sides again, immediately causing another cry and an instant reaction, when the prince closed his eyes in another fit of laughter. Just as he was about to try to grab Midoriya's hands, almost at the same moment Ochako joined the guy, making her way with her fingers to his ribs, causing another surprised squeak from Todoroki. Shoto's laughter became louder, even seeming to rise an octave.

Here he finally recovered from the shock, making an attempt to wriggle out of their hands. Well, or at least fight back with his own hands, trying to catch someone by the wrists and pull them away from him. But this newfound ability to fight was also brazenly taken away from him. Pausing for a moment, Uraraka said:

“Iida, could you hold his arms…”

“No, wahait—” Then Shoto knew it was all over for him when Tenya easily caught his hands, which had weakened from laughter, and pinned them behind his head.

And before the prince could try to convince the three of them to come to their senses, they returned to their previous activities without a trace of shame. Laughter came from his mouth again as he helplessly threw his head back, squinting his eyes. He tugged at his hands, but the knight’s grip was unwavering. And this inability to even lower his own hands seemed to only intensify these feelings, driving him into a corner.

Everything was mixed up in his head again. This sudden helplessness seemed so unusual for the usually stoic Shoto. But even this thought did not stay in his head for long, quickly replaced by a stream of sensations that his brain was frantically trying to process. Because Midoriya and Uraraka, with obvious excitement, seemed to find a completely new spots on his body every time, causing a completely new sounds.

Whether it was the tried and tested running of fingers along his waist, causing the prince to instantly burst into giggles. Or the careful fingernails running along his ribs, as if counting them, causing a new yelp each time, accompanied by laughter. Even when Iida, pressing Shoto's wrists with one hand, scratched his fingers along his neck with his free hand, it caused the prince to squeak in a completely unroyal way and want to pull his head into his shoulders like a turtle.

Only a couple of minutes passed. For Shoto, it seemed like an eternity. Finally, they left him alone, allowing him to breathe fresh air into his lungs. When Todoroki realized that they were no longer holding his hands, he did not hesitate to immediately turn on his side and curl up into a ball, pressing his hands to his sides and still unable to suppress the laughter remaining in his chest. He did not even remember the last time he laughed like that and whether he ever laughed like that at all.

The three of them looked at each other, pleased with their work. Slowly, the playful atmosphere gave way to the evening gloom, when it became noticeable how quickly the sun was setting. Midoriya and Iida suddenly remembered about the fire, which they had completely forgotten about and which had almost died out.

While the two were dealing with the source of heat, Ochako stayed with Todoroki, modestly placing her hand on his shoulder as a consolation.

And Shoto himself was recovering from his thoughts for a long time, watching the others with narrowed eyes. Despite what he had experienced, despite the feeling of helplessness, for some reason he strangely felt… happy.

[sage-nebula]

You know, it's never talked about, but Mabel is demonstrably an artistic prodigy.

I think it's a bit of truth in television that her artistic prowess is completely dismissed / undervalued in comparison to the logical intelligence that Dipper presents, but nonetheless, the artistic and crafting feats that Mabel pulls off in the show are nothing short of amazing. Of course, she's not gifted in all areas (her drawings are just okay), but in others?

Mabel hand knits all of her own sweaters, as well as sweaters for other people, animals, and magical beings. She can start and finish a sweater in a single day (perhaps even multiple sweaters, as seen in Weirdmageddon 3). Not only that, but while we mostly see her with balls of yarn, we also know that she can knit using a variety of materials; in the end tag for "Headhunters" when Mabel is trying to choose between two sweaters, she says that the llama sweater (yes, the one that is eventually given to Pacifica) is made from llama hair. Mabel is twelve years old, and she can not only knit sweaters from a standard material at a rate comparable with a machine, but she can also knit llama hair sweaters, too. The girl has a gift.

And speaking of "Headhunters"!

In "Headhunters", we learn that Stan once had a wax museum at the Mystery Shack, and also that his wax statue of Abraham Lincoln melted in the sun. Mabel ends up building a wax figure of Stan out of the melted wax. A couple things of note:

It was old wax that had already melted who knows how long ago, possibly cooled, and then melted again . . . to be fair I know fuck all about working with wax, but I can't imagine that wax was in the best shape.

Even assuming that it was in the best shape, on her very first try Mabel created a wax figure of Stan that was so accurate that he screamed, leaped away from it, and formed an attachment to it, possibly because it reminded him of his twin brother. The murderer in the episode also mistook it for the real Stan.

I repeat: this was Mabel's FIRST TRY, and it was THAT PERFECT.

Mabel is TWELVE.

Mabel is often dismissed, both in the show and out of it, because she's silly, has an active imagination, and is girly and likes girly things. But she has a serious artistic gift. The girl is a prodigy! Sure, she's not a scientific genius, but who needs to be when you can outfit an entire town for funsies in a day and make immaculate sculptures like it's nothing?

What I'm saying is: when Mabel graduates high school, she's going to art school on a full ride scholarship, where she'll hone her craft to have art shows and galleries and make art pieces that'll change the world and stand the test of time.

Or at least, that's the dream . . .

[devildom-moss]

PDA - kissing their cheeks (the dateables)

What happens when MC decides to kiss their cheek around others? It couldn't possibly go wrong, right?

(Diavolo x gn!MC) (Barbatos x gn!MC) (Simeon x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +1,900

Diavolo

It’s hard to kiss Diavolo’s cheek in public – in part because Barbatos has warned you about inappropriate displays of affection with the prince (he’s right, but he might also be a bit jealous, too). However, a bit of affection in front of close friends isn’t too bad. It’s not like you can get Diavolo alone whenever you want. Certainly, Barbatos and Diavolo can excuse a bit of impropriety from time to time.

As often seemed to be the case, Diavolo was stuck in the student council room with a large stack of documents. Lucifer and Barbatos were hard at work by his side. Satan was typing up documents on his cat-deco covered computer. Mammon, Levi, and Belphegor were also tasked with simple clerical work – although only two of the three were currently of any use. Barbatos was permitting Belphegor to nap for another five minutes before a harsh awakening was due. All this to say that the council room was busy but relatively calm this afternoon. You had finished up your work – and just in time for your study session with Solomon, who had appeared in the doorframe. He waited patiently, a smug grin on his face, content to steal you away from the others for some one-on-one time, as you walked up to Diavolo with your stack of forms.

“I just finished up. The blue tabs indicate areas that require your signature.” You smiled at him, knowing that you had taken an extra minute or two to draw small hearts on each of those tabs. “That’s all of it, correct?”

“Yes, thank you, MC,” Diavolo spoke flatly and mindlessly set your stack of forms on the table without looking at you or his newly acquired work. He still had so much to do. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Diavolo hated paperwork almost as much as pickles – okay so maybe it wasn’t quite as bad, but you could tell he was channeling extra effort to sit there and perform his duties.

“Alright, then I’m heading out to study with Solomon. But first,” you paused to walk around his desk. You wanted to give him some of your strength somehow. It wasn’t much, but you bent down and placed a firm kiss on his cheek, lingering just long enough for someone else in the room to irritably clear his throat. With your lips still close to him, you spoke quietly, “do your best, My Lord.”

There was an intentionally seductive tinge to the words “My Lord” that was not missed by anyone who heard it – least of all Diavolo. A subtle look of surprise stayed plastered on his face. He was so focused on his work; Diavolo hadn’t expected that. As you walked towards the door, Diavolo redirected his strength to keep himself still in his seat – anything to stop from chasing after you.

You disappeared down the hall with Solomon too quickly for Diavolo’s liking. A smile played on his lips, and he let out a chuckle that fell from him like a sigh. How bold of you. Diavolo could still feel the heat in his cheek – but now it had spread to both cheeks and up his ears.

“Back to work, please, My Lord,” Barbatos chided him.

Diavolo continued with his work. His smile was slow to leave his lips, and it was renewed when he noticed the blue tabs you left on the forms. You were full of surprises today, and once his work was complete, Diavolo was determined to reward such thoughtful surprises.

Barbatos

You didn’t intend to kiss him, but Barbatos was always so attentive when you had tea at the Demon Lord’s castle. An overwhelming urge to dote on him – even just a bit – came over you. When Barbatos leaned down with his face mere inches away to pour your tea, before you could think about it, your lips were pressed to his cheek. It was enough to stall the active conversation between Lucifer and Diavolo. Even Simeon and Solomon, who were passive participants, had turned to watch the spectacle.

That silence brought you back to your senses, and you quickly pulled back and apologized, realizing it was probably inappropriate.

Barbatos smiled at you sweetly. “Don’t fret over it. It was very sweet of you, and I’m grateful, but I am still on duty. You should restrain yourself. There are more opportune moments for you to get your lips all over me.”

“Barbatos?!” Diavolo’s eyes widened, bewildered.

“I jest, My Lord,” Barbatos chuckled. “However, MC, if you would like to properly make it up to me, could you assist me in finishing the preparation for dessert in the kitchen? An extra pair of hands might be useful.”

“Of course.” You shot out of your seat almost too eagerly.

“We’ll return shortly, My Lord.”

“Wonderful,” Diavolo smiled, “thank you, Barbatos.”

Lucifer noticed a small drop of tea on the saucer next to your cup. Barbatos was usually so careful. He rubbed his temples knowingly. “That was a horrible idea.”

“Nonsense, Lucifer. Barbatos wouldn’t do anything untoward with MC in the kitchen.”

“He said nothing about Barbatos doing anything with MC in the kitchen,” Simeon pointed out. “Perhaps you already had your own doubts.”

“Should we check on them?” Solomon wondered aloud.

“I don’t see a need for that,” Diavolo shook his head and tried to resume the previous conversation he was having. However, the seeds of doubt in his mind had sprouted into something more substantial when you and Barbatos returned fifteen minutes later with a trifle that could well have been prepared ahead of time. Your bottom lip appeared redder and slightly puffier than Diavolo had remembered.

You and Barbatos continued to steal glances at each other throughout the tea. It didn’t go unnoticed, but neither of you cared – not after the desperation Barbatos had to make the most of those fifteen minutes. Certainly, nothing mattered after Barbatos had pulled away from you, panting slightly, and whispered in your ear: Don’t leave with the others later. After I’m dismissed tonight, I’d like to continue this when I can thoroughly show you my appreciation for that adorable gesture earlier. Barbatos had returned said gesture by pressing his lips to your cheek before he slipped out of your embrace to pull the trifle from the fridge. Neither of you could stop thinking about it.

Simeon

Simeon had baked for you – well, actually, he had baked for everyone, but you were the one he was thinking about the entire time. As he passed out cupcakes, he saved you for last, figuring everyone would be preoccupied enough by their treats that he could avoid attention when he gave you the final cupcake. This one was just for you. Yours was the only one with a small chocolate heart on top.

Under the sweetness of Simeon’s smile, there was a hint of mischief. He always found tiny, secretive ways to take hold of your attention. However, you knew you should probably dispose of the evidence before anyone caught on. Mammon would lose his mind and Leviathan would assemble the PDA-police, and you didn’t even want to think about what anyone else would do. You plucked the heart from atop the frosting and popped it into your mouth (cutely, Simeon would insist).

“You have frosting on your finger,” Simeon pointed out with that same, slightly devious smile. Playfully, you smeared a bit of the frosting from your fingertip onto his cheek. The cool sensation of frosting and your soft touch made him giggle. “Very cute.”

Simeon moved to wipe it off, but you grabbed his hand gently to stop him. “Wait, allow me.”

You kissed his cheek, lapping at the frosting on his skin. Simeon could feel his face heat up. Usually, he tried not to cause a scene in front of the others – just to avoid the inevitable trouble. However, if you wanted to initiate it, he wasn’t going to stop you, even though this was more than just a peck on the cheek. You were practically licking him in front of the demons and Solomon in a classroom. The door wasn’t even shut. Simeon wouldn’t dare admit how much he was enjoying this – savoring it.

“Did you get it all?” he asked, feigning innocence that no one was convinced of. You gave him one more lingering kiss on his cheek.

It was as if everyone was waiting for the scene to finish before they could speak. Then, the protest raged.

“You sneaky bastard,” Mammon barked.

“Honestly, do either of you have any shame?” Lucifer rolled his eyes.

“MC, darling, I have frosting on my lips. Will you get it for me?” Asmo cooed.

“Don’t waste frosting, Asmo.” Beel narrowed his eyes. “But I bet frosting and MC’s lips would be a tasty combination.”

“Beelzebub, I caution you against attempting to taste MC.” Barbatos sighed.

“If anyone’s going to eat MC, it should be me, right?” Lucifer smirked at you.

“Like hell,” Satan growled.

“Yeah, you’re being as selfish and greedy as Mammon,” Belphegor added.

“Pardon me?”

You’d really done it now. Under the cover of chaos, Simeon pulled you out into the hallway so you could both escape. However, before you could start down the hall, Simeon pulled you close enough to whisper in your ear. “You know, I have leftover frosting in the freezer at home. Perhaps I could return the favor?”

Solomon

It had become a group effort to get on your nerves today, and Lucifer wasn’t actually helping by focusing his anger on Levi and Mammon. His yelling didn’t stop Satan and Asmo, who were still arguing. Diavolo served as their mediator. Meanwhile, Barbatos was practically forcing food down Beel’s throat while holding him down in an attempt to sate his ravenous hunger – all with a sleeping Belphegor tossed over his shoulder. You were about to command all the brothers to “stay” and deal with Lucifer getting caught in the crossfire later when Solomon showed up. The textbook he wanted to lend you was clutched firmly to his chest. When he finally took in his surroundings, he could tell you were about to snap.

“Hold this for a second please, MC.” Solomon handed you the book with a smile. Using magic, he silenced and immobilized all the troublemakers. He gave them a stern warning to “behave for the sake of poor, overwhelmed MC.”

That pulled the right strings, and he knew he was safe to release them from his spell. The room fell quiet for a second before shameful apologies began to be muttered from various offenders. Your shoulders finally relaxed, and you thanked your wonderful, helpful, gem of a teacher.

“If only there was a way you could reward me for helping,” Solomon hummed while deliberately tapping his cheek.

You rolled your eyes before leaning in to kiss his cheek. There were about half a dozen annoyed groans harmonizing with Mammon’s shrieking before you could pull away.

Even when you did, you didn’t get far before Solomon grabbed you, pulled you close, and kissed your lips. He was almost hungry about it, and you had to force yourself to be quiet. Solomon was less restrained. Under the jealousy, Asmo was proud of Solomon for those soft moans and putting on such a stunning show.

Once he had sufficiently made his statement, Solomon broke the kiss and just grinned at you. “No need to be so shy next time.”

It was as if he was oblivious to the daggers being stared into him. The aura in the room was so tense and violent – and all that negativity was directed at him. But he was not oblivious. He simply didn’t care. He had just kissed you in front of everyone, and there was nothing they could do about it. Solomon was too pleased.

(the side characters version) | (the demon brothers version)

A/N: there's a poll up for September's community-decided fic, so go ahead and vote while you can if you're so inclined. Also, if anyone remembers the last chat text I did, the answer was Asmo, Satan, and *insert entire page worth of ad content* Levi. (But I agree with those who hoped and wanted it to be Lucifer)

[pocket-jack]

Hey, guys! I decided to torture myself before sleep beacause... Why not? So, here's KidKiller's rough sheets with some headcanons I have for the guys (probably with a lot off mistakes cus my browser refuses to fix them for me)

Kid time, baby

I draw him differently now. I know his face looks more... diamond shaped in anime, but I can't get rid of his square coded energy, so... Heart-shaped it is!

When he recieved his eye scar he didn't lose the ability to see, but now it get's dry really fast and if he won't do something about it it'll gonna ache.

He had multiple piercings on his ear, but his powers just kept pulling them and one day almost ripped his ear of, so he (with a manly tears) decided to take them off.

I headcanon him wearing a corset, because he's a little chubby and he can't get rid of this extra fat (not with his appetites). Also everytime when he takes it off, not only he's forced to look at his hanging stomach, but he's also has to fight off Killer. Killer's only dream was for Kid to be well fed and happy.

Nor his, nor Killer's sexuality is defined by them, but actually based out of other's observations. Kid is pansexual because he's kinda gender blind. For him it's confusing that you're weak just because you have tits and extra hole between your legs. He's also demiromantic. Both of those preference he acquired during Kutsukku (where you couldn't trust anyone, even your lover. And where the gender norms were the least of your concerns)

He also have undiagnosed ADHD which mostly give him extra impulsivity and also now the metal can speak (thank ye, neurodivergency!). Sometimes it's stresses him the hell off, especially during Kutsukku. He could not sleep because of all of this buzzing he kept hearing from EVERYWHERE. Now he can control it, but sometimes it returnd and he has to suffer.

Metal also responds to his hidden emotions. It may float when he thinks, reflects or remembering something. It may rumble when he's angry, concerned, scared. Or it may form something if he's happy, in love or something like that.

He's hard rock kinda guy, we all know this, but I headcanon him as a music lover in general (so whatever makes his brain go bzzt, mostly rock). I find Thrown a couple of month ago and it's sounds like something Kid would like (probably even kin, esp Backfire). MSI is a basic thing for him to have (every punk need at least one song in their playlist). I guess not every person will understand it, but Пшлнхй is such a Kid coded song (Every Russian proverb, but one part is just sending you to fuck yourself is something that Kid would do irl. The chorus is just... mmm)

Killer, my beloved!!!!

I love headcanoning him as androgenous. He has a feminine features: oval shaped face, eyes with big eyelashes, even his lips is a little softer than the average male lips. That is the main reason why he hid his face, because everyone would bully him fot it when he was young. Killer was confused with a girl a lot during his time on Kutsukku.

During timeskip he strained a lot of muscles just to get stronger. He was neglecting himself most of the time, because he had a mission: to become stronger so he'll never fail to protect Kid ever again. They also been really distant during their training. Only when Killer hurted his arm they bounded again. Kid was surprisingly a good mentor for his healing. Probably because their trauma was almost the same

When he's wearing a mask he usually get's his hair out of the way so it wouldn't mess with his vision

Pre timeskip he wanted to work on his style, feeling obliged to do so, cus his crew was dressing up in colorful styles. He choose to fit into more West Bluish kinda style (cowboy boots and pants). But then anxiety hitted him and suddenly he felt too vissible and everyone was looking at him and... Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant expirience for him. He just wanted to show that he was a part of the crew too, but now he feels himself too overreacting and dramatic and stuff. It took a lot of time for everyone to convince him that it wasn't about the look, but more about the comfort. With their support Killer started wearing something he likes more, and it felt fantastic. He actually started to like himself in the mirror a bit more after timeskip and then Wano happened

Killer is asexual beacuse of the amount of trauma he suffered during his childhood. I hc him having a low libido too. He's still feels romantic attraction (only for Kid), and if he asks, Killer will have sex with him without hesitation. But it's only for Kid, OR for his sake

It is so logical for him to have OCD. Just him casualy living and then the dread that if he won't do something usefull his crew will see how fucking usless and worthless he actually is and live him behind the same his parents did just suddenly hits him. Oh hey! Anxiety! Abandonment issues! This man will explode, please, give him a hug.

It got worse after Wano. He's doing bad things with his face and no one knows. Even Kid. (I love making them suffer for the sake of Hurt\Comfort)

I am 100% sure Killer is a Queen guy. It just gives me Killer vibes... The same with Elton John. And also... To fit in his pre timeskip cowboy vibes into the oven,,, He's actually like country rock alongside with glam rock. Barns Courtney is his favorate

So... How do you like my silly little headcanons? Maybe I post something about Heat and Wire too. Welp, I'm fainting out of exaustion, bye!