#i click away from whatever i am seeing

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[savage-rhi]

💙

[carriehobbs]

i say this as someone whose favourite hobby is "pointing out inconsistencies and discrepancies" but it is really important to be able to acknowledge that sometimes, if you've thought about something for five minutes, then you've thought about it ten times longer than the person who created it.

why do these two pieces of lore not fit together? why does the text say one thing here and another thing there? why does the text and the word of god not match? because by asking these questions you have now thought longer and harder about making this all make sense than the creator ever did.

and it's fine (i think) to enjoy trying to piece things together into a coherent and cohesive whole (i certainly do), but it's important to, every once in a while, get out of the pit you're digging for yourself and remember that you are thinking way more about this thing than anyone else is. and you're free to jump right back in that pit, shovel in hand, afterwards, but i do think touching base occasionally is important for your continued well-being.

[mminghaos]

here and now , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: after seungcheol pushes you to your limit during a party, the tension finally snaps once you make it to his car.

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex (dont do this !!), public sex (parking lot), car sex, jealousy

requests open, do send some in!!

seungcheol was being such a bitch. it was like he was purposely trying to make you jealous, trying to rile you up. why? all because you had a five minute conversation with an old friend from highschool.

and god, was it working.

he had the sleeves of his white button-up rolled to his elbows, and he leaned against the counter as he talked to the woman who was getting too close for your liking. the house party you two had been invited to was hosted by both your friends, but there were so many people there, and you couldn’t seem to focus on anything but him.

every time the woman laughed — too loudly, too flirtatiously — your stomach twisted. you watched as she leaned in, her hand lightly brushing against his arm, and seungcheol? he didn’t pull away. he acted like he didn’t even seem to notice the line she was crossing.

he was doing this on purpose. he knew you hated this, the way people threw themselves at him like he was some kind of untouchable god. but right now, it felt like he was testing you, pushing you to the edge to see how much you could take before you snapped.

he had to know what he was doing. he wasn’t oblivious to the tension in the air, to the way your gaze never strayed from him for too long.

you knew he wouldn’t go anything as far as hurting you — he wasn’t like that. but he always founds ways to make your chest tighten, to make you burn with jealousy.

finally, the woman stepped away, her lips curling into a smile as she walked off, leaving you and seungcheol alone, but not really. he was still leaning casually against the counter, and his eyes flicked to you, noticing the way your jaw clenched, how your body had stiffened with anger.

you walked over to him, setting your glass of champagne down on the marble counter before grabbing his arm firmly. “we’re going home.”

“why? i thought you said you wanted to stay out later tonight before we left the house.” his voice was teasing, the smirk practically oozing from behind you as you pulled him toward the door.

you didn’t say anything as you led him outside, your grip still firm on his arm, ignoring the way he was looking at you with that infuriating, amused expression. the cool night air hit your skin as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the distant sound of the party muffled behind you.

seungcheol finally spoke, his voice low but still laced with amusement. “so, you’re mad?”

you spun around to face him, the words bursting out before you could stop them. “you’re such an asshole.”

his smirk deepened, and he took a step closer, closing the space between you two. “am i? i was just talking to her.”

“bullshit,” you snapped, stepping back as your heart pounded. “you were flirting with her.”

“and what if i was?” he asked quietly, his tone suddenly serious, the teasing edge replaced by something more dangerous.

your breath hitched in your throat, caught between frustration and something else you couldn’t name.

you needed him so bad.

both of you stood there for a moment, the tension between you thickening. before seungcheol could say anything else, you gripped his wrist, pulling him toward his car.

he immediately unlocked the car as if he knew what was coming next. (he did).

“backseat,” you said, letting go of his wrist. your voice was filled with need. “please.”

seungcheol slid into the backseat smoothly, his eyes never leaving you. you followed him, the door clicking shut behind you as you positioned yourself in his lap. the air was thick, charged, but neither of you moved yet, the anticipation hanging between you like a heavy weight.

you tried to stay calm, to hold on to whatever control you had left, but it was slipping away with every passing second. finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips meeting his with an urgency that surprised you both.

“wondered how long it would take” he pulled back, his voice low, teasing, but with an edge that sent a shiver through you.

all you could do was scoff, but it was light-hearted. “of course you did.” you responded, your fingers twitching, wanting him, needing him.

you couldn't help but lean in again, your breath warm against his skin. with a slight tilt of your head, you brushed your lips against his jaw, lingering there for a moment. your fingers tightened on the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as you slowly kissed your way down to his neck. the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the heat of the moment made your senses reel.

seungcheol let out a quiet breath, his hands resting gently on your waist, pulling you even closer as you paused at his neck. the warmth of his skin under your lips made your heart race, and you felt the tension between you both thicken, every second stretching, making the moment feel impossibly intimate.

slowly, your hips began to move back and forth, the motion steady and deliberate. your dress crept up your thighs as you shifted and seungcheol took advantage if that to place his hands there.

a low groan escaped from his lips, right by your ear, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through you, boosing your ego.

“please, baby,” he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

the heat that pooled in the bottom of your stomach intensified, making it hard to focus. you pulled back just enough to undo his belt, your fingers trembling slightly as you slid his pants down.

his cock hit against his abdomen, and your mouth drooled at the sight. “fuck, cheol.” you whispered out, positioning yourself over him after sliding your panties down.

you were already wet enough to not need any prep — it was evident with the way you were dripping all over his lap.

you slowly slid yourself down onto him, nails clawing at his shoulders as you took time to adjust. he was so big, you don’t think you’d ever be able to get used to it properly.

“oh my god,” he groaned out, hands going out to rest on your hips again as you began to move. “thats it. just like that.”

thank god the parking lot you were in was one, around the corner from the house the party was thrown at, and two, empty, because you don’t think you could bear the embarrassment of someone catching you.

“was— was doing fine before you rolled them damn sleeves up.” you whimpered out, your hips moving at a pace you didn’t even know you could reach until now.

“yeah? i bet you were,” he hissed into your ear, placing wet kisses along your collarbones as one of his hands left your waist to rub tight circles onto your clit.

you let out a strangled moan, your climax building rapidly. your thighs burned and you dropped your head on seungcheol’s shoulder. neither of you slowed your actions, desperate for release.

“im so close.” he whined. “come with me, please, please, please.”

that’s what sent you toppling over the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head as your movements fell sloppy. “fuck!” you cried out.

a second later, you felt seungcheol’s hips stutter and his head fell back against the leather seats with a gasp escaping his mouth. he spilled ropes of his warm cum inside you, mixing with your own release.

you both stayed in the same position for a few minutes, catching your breath before seungcheol placed a soft kiss to your nose.

“maybe i should make you jealous more often.”

[notlongtolove]

like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet. 

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that. 

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving. 

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?" 

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment. 

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight. 

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad. 

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience. 

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing. 

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you. 

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw. 

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

​​You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor. 

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold. 

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask. 

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead." 

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in. 

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?" 

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared." 

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do. 

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it." 

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give. 

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles. 

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter. 

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something. 

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

​​"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek. 

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again. 

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it." 

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking. 

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me." 

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry." 

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind. 

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly." 

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his. 

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him. 

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting." 

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I love you, you know that?" 

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection. 

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest. 

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself. 

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last. 

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

[hoshiros]

—✯ KNEE SOCKS

AM Masterlist

cw. 18+ mdni. afab!reader, phone/video sex, established relationship, lingerie, masturbation, HAPPY SAE DAY

"Three."

ITOSHI SAE watches both in fascination and bitter pride as you choke on your own spit. Your nail slowly taps against the side of the vibrator, clicking in the microphone.

Sae clicks his tongue impatiently when you pout at him through the camera, glaring at his stupidly handsome face. "At least let me catch my breath," you glower, burrowing your head against the pillow beneath your cheek.

"Stop stalling. Three."

"Wait—"

"You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

You seem to contemplate his words for a moment, casting him a shy, tentative glance before you shake your head. The silky lingerie hugging your body slips when you adjust yourself, and Sae can't help the way his eyes gravitate toward the extra flesh spilling over the edge of your thigh-highs.

He grunts, giving himself a squeeze through his sweats at the show. You hesitantly increase the speed of the vibe to three and sputter, pulling it away from your clit in surprise before slowly drawing it against you again.

Some people would think that Sae's favourite view is a vast green pitch crawling with talent. Others would think that it's the sea, wide and sparkling under the sun.

All those idiots are wrong.

His favourite view would always be you on your knees, fists pulled tight around whatever you can grab, face pushed down—helpless and wanting him more than anything in the world. Nothing makes his blood boil hotter.

"Wish you were—" your words tumble into nonsense, high-pitched babbles and whines until the toy slips a little, giving you a chance to speak. "Wish you were here."

"Yeah? Greedy girl, can't get enough, hm?"

"S’not as good without you," you sniffle, feet kicking up and down. They thud softly against the mattress as you writhe, forcing yourself to look at the camera.

The thing Sae hates the most about Spain is that he's confined to a video chat. His fingers twitch, instinctively wanting to reach out to grab you by the hips and give you that little extra help he knows you need.

"I know you can do it," he croons, and through the video you can see his head tilt to the side almost mockingly. "Or do you need me to fuck you that bad?"

You hiccup and shake your head again, pulling your knees closer to your body and angling yourself better for him to see. He almost smiles at the sight—that constant determination he adores so much about you.

The new angle makes you breathless, face turning into the pillow as you gasp and squeal. Sae was more careful with his ministrations than you were with this stupid piece of plastic. 

"That's it," he presses, hips jutting against the fabric of his own pants to try and find some friction. "So pretty."

You cry and cry and cry, voice breaking the longer play with yourself. "Sae," you pant, muffled by the pillow. "Sae... Wanna cum, please? Can I?"

He hums low, agonizingly indecisive. Then, finally,

"Go on."

It only takes a few seconds before you sob, feet kicking again while you cum. Sae is about to laugh when you shake so hard the propped-up phone almost topples over. It gets caught in his throat when you pull the toy away and he can see the slick glistening down its side in the light.

Sae is transfixed. His fingers slip past the elastic of his waist band before he can stop himself and he lets out the tiniest of groans when he squeezes his length proper.

Sticky cum coats his thumb when he swipes over the tip with it, but it's not enough. He needs more. He'd always need more of you—maybe even more than you needed him.

He would never admit that to you, though.

"Again."

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S YOU AND ME, THAT'S MY WHOLE WORLD

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: one kiss turns into two, and before you know it, an innocent gaming session turns into something more. (streamer!au)

contents: fem!reader. suggestive (kissing/making out). the ending can be interpreted as sex. non-sexual usage/mentions of lollipops bc i have a sweet tooth and i want a lollipop rn. i didn't really spend a lot of time on this one, but i thought i'd post it anyways. whatever, your favorite streamer boyfriend is back! did you miss him? (the answer is yes). -1K words.

"you're not that good, are you?" you ask with a grin, twirling a lollipop in between your fingers. in front of you, satoru's avatar gets shot down by a couple others for what seems like the hundredth time, and right on cue, satoru curses his bad luck. "you know, maybe you'd be better if you were actually focusing on the game."

"it's not my fault," satoru insists petulantly, a childish pout appearing on his face. he sticks out his bottom lip and rests his chin on top of your head. "how am i supposed to be able to focus with you in my lap?"

you stick your lollipop in your mouth and shrug, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hum indifferently. "sounds like you're just making excuses..."

"oh?"

satoru pinches your cheek teasingly with the hand not resting on top of his mouse, fingers skating from the side of your face to your lips as he tugs out the lollipop. he ignores your halfhearted protests and pops it into his mouth, smiling cheekily as he does so. in the darkening computer screen in front of you, you can see your boyfriend's smug expression, which smirks back at you. "mmm, this flavor's good. what is it?"

"strawberry, i think," you reply instinctually. satoru shakes his head in response, taking the candy out of his mouth and twirling the stick in between his thumb and index finger before he corrects you.

"actually, i think it's you i'm tasting," he quips, clicking around with his mouse for a second before he opens up the photo app. your reflection gazes back at the two of you in satoru's comfortably large gaming chair.

"no wonder you have no game," you deadpan, looking away from the mirror image of you and satoru and towards the ceiling.

"baby, you're literally sitting in my lap right now."

"yes, and?"

satoru's laugh is clear and blue, like a sunlit sky in the middle of june. it almost feels like he hasn't been able to stop smiling around you ever since "the incident," and honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

he sticks the lollipop in between your lips and stops you from verbally bashing him any more than you already have. the sweet, tangy taste is a welcome sensation in your mouth, and satoru can't help but smile endearingly when your reflection looks at him with round eyes. "you're so cute," he mumbles, punctuating each word with a kiss to the top of your head.

a soft giggle slips out of your lips in response. "shut up." even as you say that, you already know his answer. if there was one bet you'd make without a doubt, it'd be that satoru can never seem to shut up whenever you're in his line of sight.

satoru's hands find themselves on your waist, and they turn you around so you're facing him. there's a different (but not unpleasant) look in his eyes as he gazes at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"what is it?" you ask curiously, noticing the subtle change in his expression. his eyes soften from what looked like a teasing glance to an almost longing stare.

"nothing," he hums, kissing you in between your eyes. "you're just pretty."

satoru's hands thread themselves through your hair, lightly touching the back of your neck as his lips move down to brush against yours. you extract the lollipop from between your lips and tilt your chin up, kissing satoru with a little smile. like always, he tastes like sweetened peppermints, even though you've never seen him eat one before. you'll have to ask about that later, but for now, all you can focus on is the way satoru gently nips at your bottom lip as if he's asking for attention.

you hum softly, opening your eyes and squinting at satoru, who can't help but smile against your lips. "you taste like strawberries," he mumbles, peppering butterfly kisses on the corner of your mouth in between words. "so sweet..."

you exhale faintly, not wanting to pull away from his peppermint-scented lips, and let your eyes flutter closed again. something about the way satoru's hands rest delicately on your waist makes you feel more comfortable than you've been in a while. maybe it's just the hoodie satoru had forced on you earlier when he saw you were shivering, or maybe it's the steady beat of satoru's heart that's almost therapeutic against your chest; whatever the case, you can't remember the last time you've been this at ease.

between his complicated streaming schedule and your busy life, moments like these are rarer than you'd like, but that only makes them all the more special.

five, ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by in silence, with the only sound being the soft murmurs shared between you and satoru. his lips fit over yours like two pieces of a puzzle, and the way you fit in between his arms almost feels too good to be true. but thanks to the slender hand that slips underneath the waistband of your shorts and the gentle tug at the bottom of your shirt, you know only too well that this is real; and hopefully, it always will be.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Feels Like Sabotage | Charles Leclerc x Red Bull! Reader

Summary: The Grid have decided that this is the season to see who can injure Yn the most. (Not intentionally, they all feel terrible about it). Fed up of seeing his girlfriend injured, Charles decides to enact revenge. 

Pairing: Platonic! Grid x reader. Charles Leclerc x Reader (slight)

Warnings: swearing, slight injury 

Word count: 3.3k

F1 Masterlist

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#1 Lando Norris

Cheers thundered throughout the track, vibrating through the floor and buzzing into the bodies of the podium winners. Max Verstappen stood in the middle, arms raised high as he bared his Grand Prix trophy to the roaring crowd. Another successful race, another win under his belt. The Dutch anthem was still ringing in his ears, and his smile widened as he turned to his left, finding his teammate beaming with her P3 trophy in hand. A double podium for Red Bull and another step closer to the Constructors Championship.

Jumping down from the P2 podium, Lando raced over to his friends, eager to share in their victories. He threw his arms around Max and Yn, dragging them both into a hug and shouting congratulations into their ears. Disentangling herself from the papaya racer, Yn turned to face the crowd, eyes scanning for a dark-haired Ferrari racer. Dimples deepening as he made eye contact with her, Charles blew his girlfriend a celebratory kiss. Unimpressed that Yn was distracted and not listening to his overjoyed shouts, Lando waved his arms about in front of her, hoping to garner her attention. Miscalculating his movements, his face morphed from delight to terror. Around them, cameras caught the moment that Yn’s face morphed from heart eyes to pain as the trophy came into contact with her skull. 

“Oh, fuck! Yn, I am so sorry! Oh, no. That was so hard.”

Recoiling from the McLaren driver, her free hand came up to nurse the red mark forming on her forehead. Lando chased after her, apologies spilling from his mouth. Yn beat him back with her elbow. 

“Did you just hit me with your trophy?” Yn asked in shock. “I didn’t even beat you.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was waving it about and…”

“And they say F1 drivers are coordinated,” chuckled Max, walking over to his teammate to inspect the damage done to her skull. He winced jokingly, fingers prodding the dark bruise forming. “Oh, dear, you have a bump.”

“Your protective P instincts are kicking in.” She teased, jerking back as pain lanced down the side of her face. “You going to put a Disney princess sticker on it next?” 

Max laughed, the melodic sound breaking through the ringing in her ears. “No, no. I will save those for Lando after Charles runs him off the track.”

The three winners glanced down at the aforementioned Ferrari driver, although Lando quickly looked away. Fury blazed in his blue eyes at the dark mark on her forehead. 

Sighing deeply, Yn placed the bag of ice (long since melted into water) on the table in her driver’s room. Post-podium interviews were always draining but it seemed to drag more so today. Although that might have partly been due to the pounding headache and the dull ache behind her eyes. After the disaster on the podium, the journalists had focused less on their momentous success and more on the injury she had sustained at the hands of Lando Norris.

The internet had already turned their moment into a meme, laughing at the incident, but the journalists decided to take a different route, complaining that Lando had done it deliberately. Fielding those questions was always soul-destroying, especially when they liked to twist whatever you said. Three short knocks sounded at her door, and it clicked open before she could turn from the mirror. 

“Mon amour.” Charles’ head poked between the gap before wincing slightly at the look on her face. “Does it hurt? I can’t believe Lando hit you.”

“He’s like an excitable toddler.”

Charles pulled her into his arms, glancing down at his bruised girlfriend. “You look like an œuf.”

“Saying it in French doesn’t make it any less insulting, Charles.” 

“You are the most beautiful egg I have ever seen,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the wound Lando had left. 

#2 Daniel Ricciardo 

Sweat ran down the back of Yn’s neck as she gripped the steering wheel harder, flying through turn six. She tapped the brake slightly as the back of a Ferrari came closer, slowing down. 

“What is he doing?”

“Leclerc seems to be having an issue.”

“No shit. He fucking slowed right down.”

“Overtake when you can.”

“Tell me how to do my job, why don’t you?”

Pushing the car forward, she inched past the Ferrari as they approached the next turn. Her teeth clenched tightly together as he faded from view, running right alongside her. She felt sweat run down her cheek as her heart pounded in her chest and tried to focus on her breathing. She could do this. Just a little more.

“Fantastic job,” her engineer praised. “P5 now.”

Glancing in the mirror, she startled at the sight of Charles skidding off the track and onto the gravel, coming to a stop just before the barrier. 

“Is he okay?”

“Gearbox malfunction. Leclerc is fine and out of the car. Car behind is Ricciardo, two seconds.” 

“Okay.”

Relieved that Charles was fine, Yn returned her attention back to the track, doing her best to keep the McLaren behind her. 

“Defend. He’s going to try and overtake.”

Turning the corner, Yn kept on the inside, yanking the wheel in order to achieve the tight turn. Despite pulling left, she felt the car veer off to the right, ignoring her command as she slammed her foot down on the brake. Her body snapped forward as the car came to a sudden stop, smacking into the foam barrier. The plastic coating with Pirelli splashed across it broke, landing atop her head. 

“You okay?”

“What the fuck was that?!” 

“Ricciardo made contact.”

“No shit. He fucking shunted me into the wall!” 

“Obviously we’re going to have to retire the car.”

The cameras honed in on the Red Bull racer as she pulled herself out of the car. The crowd sighed in relief, pleased that she was alright but recoiled as she turned, violently kicking part of the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Storming over to the McLaren garage, Yn called out for the other driver forced to DNF. Behind them, the race was continuing, only another ten laps left to determine who would find their way onto the podium. And Yn wasn’t one of them. 

“What the fuck was that! Do you know how to drive?”

“Me? You turned into me!” 

“Don’t give me that shit! I was ahead of you, I was doing my turn first! You fucking clipped my wheel because you didn’t leave enough space and you want to blame me.”

Flashes of light went off around them, capturing the furious racer as she yelled at the sheepish Australian. 

“I am sorry but coming in here to yell at me won’t put you back in the race.”

“No, it won’t because my car is fucked! Learn to fucking drive next time.”

“A pleasure talking to you as always, LN.” 

“Suck my dick!” She yelled back, ignoring the numerous journalists smirking to themselves over their next juicy headline.

Debriefed and dismissed for the evening, Yn dragged her weary body out of the Red Bull motorhome. Despite having been cleared by medical, she was covered in bruises and looking forward to a night off. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charles teased, taking his hand out of his pockets and holding it out for her. Lacing her fingers through his, Yn’s broke out in a smile when he pulled her closer. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t drive you back to the hotel after your accident.”

“But, my car-”

“Will be dropped off later. I’ve already sorted it, mon ange.”

“You take such good care of me.”

Charles bent down, lips tracing her ear. “It does not end here. What do you say we take a bath when we get back?”

Yn laughed, leaning into him as his breath tickled her neck. Before she could answer, the pair of them were out of the paddock and assaulted by the media. 

“Yn. Yn. How are things between you and Daniel after your argument today? Things looked to be quite heated.” 

“Daniel and I will be fine. We haven’t spoken since our argument but it’s very hard to remain mad at someone like Daniel.”

“Charles, do you feel the same way? After all, it was your girlfriend he crashed into.”

“Obviously there was a bit of anger at seeing someone you care about crash. Um, but Yn is a driver much like anyone else. These things happen. If she forgives him then that is all that matters.”

The two drivers excuses themselves, walking past the rest of the media without stopping. Charles’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he was relieved when they entered the safety of his car. 

“You handled that very well.”

“Could you tell I was furious?”

“No. You were very diplomatic.”

“Just another name to add to my list of people to hit with my car.”

“Char, you can’t say things like that,” giggled Yn.

“Only to you.”

#3 Lewis Hamilton

Waving at the crowd, Yn made her way across the paddock, eager for the day ahead. Another Sunday, another race, another chance at the podium. Stopping every now and then to take pictures with fans, Yn chatted animatedly with her PR manager as they discussed her upcoming media obligations. Unlike her teammate, she was much more amiable towards media appearances but only enjoyed the ones that didn’t feel more like a conference. 

“Beep beep,” a British voice called out behind her, alerting the two women clad in Red Bull polos that he was approaching. “Good morning, lovely ladies.”

He pulled up alongside them, foot slipping off the brake. Instead of coming to a stop, he felt the scooter roll over a bump in the end. Jumping off the two-wheeled contraption, he winced as his on-track rival hopped around clutching her left foot. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realise your foot was right there.”

“Why can’t you walk like everyone else?” She grumbled, wincing at the throbbing sensation when she put her foot flat on the ground. 

“Because it’s slower?” He offered weakly, looping her arm around his shoulders and helping her hop the remaining feet towards the Red Bull garage. 

Interested in the laces of her shoes, Yn shuffled in her seat. The top half of her racing suit had been discarded, tied around her waist, but when she sat down the sleeves had created an uncomfortable mound. P4 had been a helpful finish for the battle for Constructors but she couldn't help the disappointment at her finish. Lando, noticing her movements, asked if she was still in pain. One of the journalists called her name, preventing her from answering. 

“We noticed you limping earlier when you got out of the car. Was that in relation to the videos of Lewis helping you into the Red Bull garage earlier?” 

Lewis shifted awkwardly in his seat, offering the young woman another apologetic smile. 

“Uh, yes. Unfortunately, earlier today, Lewis ran over my foot with his scooter. I have some lovely bruising to show for it.”

“Do you blame Lewis? Do you think that was what stopped you from achieving P1? Perhaps it was deliberate.”

“Both Lewis and Toto made their way down to the Red Bull garage to apologise personally. It absolutely wasn’t sabotage. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, yes, my boot was tied looser than usual, and putting pressure on my foot was painful in terms of braking. However, the onus is on me in terms of my performance. I don’t feel like I gave it my best today, and Max is very fast,” she finished with a laugh, earning scattered laughter from the room.

A buzz sounded in her pocket and she discreetly slipped her phone from it, checking the notification. The little race car next to the name had her smiling. 

Charles: You. Me. Celebration later? I’ll find the greasiest food

Yn: I miss you. This conference sucks

Charles: No, you miss being in the podium conference. Don’t lie to me x

Yn: That too

#4 Max Verstappen

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another perfect 1-2 for Red Bull! I imagine it’s smiles all around in their garage.” 

The Dutch anthem was still ringing in her ears when the 2nd place trophy was placed in her hands. Grin plastered across her face, Yn raised her trophy high in the air, relishing in the roar of her team, watching down below. Once Charles’ trophy had been securely handed over, and the presenters had scurried off the stage to safety, Max lunged forward for the large champagne bottle. Shaking it profusely, he popped the cork and aimed at his teammate.

Not even having time to reach for her own bottle, Yn was waterboarded by the bubbly liquid. Spluttering violently, she clapped her hands over her face, trying to ward off the onslaught of champagne. It was up her nose, down her throat and, most painfully, burning her right eye. 

“Max, you bastard,” she hissed, stumbling towards the edge of the stage where her engineer was waiting with a damp towel. Pressing it tight against her eye, she grumbled to herself about the dangers of champagne. 

“Oh, bebe, not another injury.” Charles murmured, glancing at her bloodshot eye. Champagne rolled off the tip of his hat, flicking the tip of her nose. 

Max bounded over next, laughing in elation at his win. He apologised at the sight of her eye but it felt a tad insincere when he followed it with, “They should call you the driver’s champion of non-race related injuries.”

“More like the champion of idiotic work colleagues.” 

“Don’t be like that. You love me really.” Max pulled her in for a headlock, wet arms wrapping around her head. Yn stomped on his foot when another drop of champagne rolled into her stinging eye. 

Fiddling with the cord of her microphone, Yn’s high from achieving P2 faded with each passing moment. Winning a podium was euphoric until she remembered it entailed a ninety minutes press-conference afterwards. Ignoring how badly she wanted food, Yn leaned over, whispering to Max, who looked as equally bored as she.

Charles’ hand slipped from her thigh as she moved, and he shook his head with a smile when he caught her gossiping. Her teammate grinned at whatever she said before the pair of them heard her name being called. Snapping to attention, Yn pulled away from Max and sat upright in her chair.

“Apologies but would you mind repeating the question?” Yn asked sheepishly. 

“Following your recent accidents at the hands of your fellow racers, there’s rumours flying around that the male members of the Grid are opposed to your presence on the track. Care to comment?” 

Yn leant forward towards her mic. “I must admit I’m starting to believe these rumours,” she let out a small laugh, informing everyone she was joking. “No, no. In all seriousness, I do seem to be getting attacked an awful lot by my fellow racers this season - uh, most recently was being blinded by Max after the podium - but I don’t believe there is any animosity behind it. They’ve all been very apologetic. I’m just unfortunate.” 

“Mon amour maladroite,” whispered Charles but the microphone picked it up regardless. 

Fake frowning at him, she reiterated for the crowd. “There’s a lot of love between me and the rest of the drivers so these are all just inCHIdents.” 

Charles looked at her in shock, offended by her mockery. “Hey!” He whined. “I’m the only person not trying to sabotage you.”

Yn pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek and the cameras lapped up the rare glimpse of affection between the two during a race weekend. 

Charles' Revenge

A race in Monaco meant that the majority of drivers were able to spend the week beforehand at home. Padding across the living room barefoot, Yn made her way towards the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist, she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turned in her arms, beaming down at her in his oversized hoodie. After her racing suit, this look was his favourite. 

“Thank you for helping me with this, handsome.”

“Help you? It was my idea, mon coeur. Especially because you would not let me run them off the track.” 

“Because that is…” she prompted.

“Dangerous,” he finished with a pout. 

The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their first dinner guest, and she smirked to herself before flitting over to the door. Max stood there nervously, a bouquet of flowers in hand. She stepped aside to let him in, and thanked him when he handed the large flower bunch to her. 

“To apologise for blinding you, and to thank you for dinner.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, Max,” she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers, almost feeling bad for deceiving him. He probably deserved this the least but her boyfriend needed a way to release his anger. “I’m going to put them in some water. Charles is in the main room with some sport thingy on the television. Gin and tonic?” 

“Just one.” He nodded, placing his discarded shoes on the rack before sloping off in search of the brunette driver. 

Hands clasped, Charles and Yn placed dishes of pasta in front of Lando, Daniel, Lewis and Max, smiling when they thanked them. Yn was well-known for her cooking throughout the paddock, often cooking sweet treats in the week and bringing them in for the Grid to share. Having a birthday on a racing weekend was a much coveted holiday because it meant a homemade cake from the Red Bull racer.

Watching as each of them took a big mouthful, she watched them all grimace in disgust when they swallowed. Taking a sip of wine before speaking, she informed them of the true reason behind their meal. “I lied to you. I didn’t cook dinner for you this evening.”

The four of them turned to face the devious Ferrari driver looking innocently at them, horror plastered across their faces. “Charles did.”

Friday - Practice 

“Four F1 drivers are reportedly suffering from food poisoning. Perhaps a racing dinner gone wrong? They’re still set to race on Sunday, just two days from now, but images of them have emerged from today’s free practice, and the four look particularly under the weather.”

Seated opposite her Team Principal, Yn fiddled with her fingers as Christian berated her. Shame crept up the back of her neck and for the fifth time that day, she wished Charles was with her. Hands perched on his hips, Christian stared down at her, waiting for an explanation. 

“I didn’t think they’d be ill for this long?” She defended weakly. “I just thought they’d suffer through a gross meal and that would be the end of it. I bought pizza afterwards!”

“You let them eat Charles’ food! What did you think would happen? The boy can’t cook.” 

“Oops…?”

Christian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least left Max out of it.”

“He blinded me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Max groaned, clutching his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool compress resting atop it.

“The alternative was Charles pushing you off the track,” she shot back.

“He’d have to catch me first,” argued Max. 

The two drivers broke out into good-natured bickering, voices raising as they got more heated. Sighing yet again, the Red Bull principal sank into his chair and muttered to himself, “I’m working with children.”

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A/N: I'm not sure what this is (laugh) I apologise but writing fics isn't my strong suit. I should probably stick to smau's lol

On that note, requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

There’s a Beta standing in Eddie’s doorway. She’s slim, choppy ginger hair and red boots poking out from under the cuffs of her denim dungarees – Eddie likes her pretty much immediately.

She’s holding a plate.

She hasn’t managed to speak yet, but from down the hall, Eddie hears a voice hiss, “Robin!”

They both turn to look. The Omega of Eddie’s dreams face and...tummy...are both poking out of the doorway. He looks mortified.

“So sorry,” the Beta starts, “Steve was too embarrassed to come and ask a second time, but he’s basically had his nose pressed to the door for the past half an hour so…” she holds out the plate.

From down the hall, very faintly, the Omega, who Eddie now knows must be called ‘Steve,’ whines, “why are you like this,” and then clicks the door shut.

“I’m Robin, by the way,” and she holds out her non plate hand to shake.

Eddie ends up shaking one hand and taking the plate from the other. Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve must have a partner, but he still has to squish the disappointment of meeting them. “Eddie...just, give me a second. It’s chicken parm.”

Eddie goes and dishes up a portion, it was going to be tomorrows lunch but...he can’t deny the pretty little Omega anything. Maybe he should start cooking extra extras, even if Steve doesn’t come knocking, at least it’s a meal he can have another time.

“This is one of his favorites, no wonder he was so restless about it.”

“Yeah, well, anytime,” and Eddie could add that Robin should be making Steve’s favorites, but he doesn’t because he’s pretty sure Robin is cool and he already knows Steve is sweet and he’s just not that kind of person.

Much.

“I’m sorry, you’ve done what to the pulled pork?”

“Orange and Oregano, trust me Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind.”

“Uh hu, and someone else's by the look of it, you’ve cooked enough for us and that Omega guy twice over.” Eddie just rolls his eyes. “You got all your shit put away then?”

“Pretty much, and leave that alone.”

Dustin huffs but puts the spoon down and replaces the lid on the crock pot, “what are we having with it?”

“Was going to do dirty fries.”

“Oh my god. You’re a saint. A hero. You should be knighted like ye olde dragon-slayers of yore-”

“Yeah yeah, this will not score you any extra loot later.”

“Mayhap a smidgen of exper-” Dustin stops at the sound of knocking, looking to the door. “Is it your Omega?” He whisper hisses at Eddie.

“He’s not mine, he’s got a girlfriend,” Eddie whisper hisses back.

Doesn’t stop him pulling his shirt straight and tugging at his jeans and fluffing his hair real quick on the way to the door. All of that is kind of...reflexive, though.

Dustin’s smirk is actually slap worthy, and Eddie will get to that right after he answers the door.

“I am so sorry about this,” Steve is saying before Eddie even has the door fully open, “and I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I thought I could at least contribute.” He’s holding two plates, one empty, one stacked up with cookies, “they’re Reese’s.”

And Eddie’s mouth is watering, not just from the scent of Steve, but because he can see the chunks of partially melted Reese's pieces sticking out of the cookies, “they look incredible, thank you,” Eddie takes both plates, “it’s not actually ready yet, can I drop it by in like, thirty minutes?”

“Oh you are my hero,” Steve beams at him. It’s a happy smile, a smile that comes with the scent of pleased Omega. Happy Omega. Happy Omega with pup. The kind of smile and scent that digs it’s hooks deep into Eddie’s brain and fucking yanks.

“It’s pulled pork, would you rather fries or rice?” Eddie finds himself asking, completely on auto pilot.

“Whatever is easiest. Whatever you were already planning. Thank you so so much Eddie.”

Eddie watches Steve waddle back to his apartment down the hall before he turns, a plate in each hand, and nudges the door closed with his foot.

“Thank you so much Eddie. I made you cookies Eddie,” Dustin simpers from the couch, before making kissey noises.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Eddie stands in the hallway in his crocs. His apartment is new, so he has a strict no shoes policy; but he has a pair of crocs for in the hall and heading outside real quick. Also, they're comfortable as fuck, so Eddie refuses to be judged.

Especially since they’re black, and Dustin got him all these little button things that pop in the holes. Little swords and shields and D20’s and stuff. So they’re super cool.

Steve opens the door, wincing, one hand resting on the small of his back, but his face blooms back into the beautiful smile at the sight of Eddie. It does something, very briefly, to Eddie. That reaction. And then he viciously reminds himself that the reaction was for Eddie’s food and not at all for Eddie himself.

Steve goes to take the plate but, “it’s hot, I warmed the plate up in the stove, let me put it down somewhere for you?” A trick Eddie learned in his month of working in a kitchen one Christmas when he was a teenager, but it never left him, and he didn't want Steve’s dinner to go cold.

“Oh, gosh, you’re so thoughtful Eddie, come right in.”

Eddie’s heart gives a little flutter at Steve’s praise, and Steve shifts out of the way, letting Eddie into an apartment that’s a mirror of his own. It’s very neat and tidy inside; everything very clearly has a place. Nothing looks brand new, but everything does look well cared for.

Steve directs Eddie to the little two seater dining table, where there’s a place set. It’s so freaking adorable, a place mat with flowers and kittens printed on it, a white folded napkin, cutlery and a glass of juice set out. A single daffodil in a tiny vase.

Eddie puts the plate down carefully, turning to see Steve blushing furiously. “Sorry, I don’t get out much and I wanted to make it nice.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute,” Eddie says, even as he feels himself grow irritated yet again with Robin, Steve’s nose twitches, eyeing Eddie with concern, so he does his best to push it down, “well,” Eddie tries his best to be cheerful, “I really hope you enjoy it. Maybe your girlfriend will take you out tomorrow?” He tries to say that with no hint of spite whatsoever.

Steve blinks at him, “girlfriend?”

“Robin? I thought...aren’t you two..?”

Steve snorts a laugh, actually ugly laughs and snorts like a cute little piggy and has to bring his hand up to his face to try and hide his reaction, “no. No, she’s my best friend. She’s home with her girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Eddie says, processing, “oh. Right sorry, I just, assumed…” he can’t stop his eyes from, briefly, flicking to Steve’s tummy.

“It’s okay,” Steve’s smiling at him, “you can ask.”

“Well...I mean when I thought you were with Robin I just assumed you’d used a donor or…”

“Yep!” Steve pops the ‘P’. “I did do that, and I did go to the appointments with Robin, but I’m single. Going it alone.”

And then Steve does quite possibly the sexiest thing Eddie’s ever seen in his entire life; he bares his throat, “see, no bite.”

Eddie has to clear his throat and shift a little where he's standing, lest his inconvenient biological reaction become overly obvious, “why did you decide to, uhm…”

Steve shrugs, smiling happily, “guess I just never was lucky enough to meet the right Alpha.”

And then Steve’s tummy rumbles very aggressively.

“I’ll let you eat your-”

“Gosh excuse me I’m-”

They speak at the same time, and then both end up laughing.

“I’ll leave you to your dinner,”

“Thanks again Eddie, I really do appreciate it.”

Part three

[livelovelizz]

you make you so easy

dick grayson x reader / fluff

“Stop following me.”

“Oh, did you want me to walk beside you? Hold your hand?”

You abruptly stop walking and shoot a glare up into the shadows of the nearby alley. You currently can’t see him, but you know he’s in there somewhere.

“I am trying to go home. After a long day,” you reply, “Alone.”

Nightwing melts out of the shadows, lips in a pout. “Come on, babe,” he whines, “I said sorry!”

You just shake your head and continue walking. “Stop following me, Nightwing. I wonder what the media would think, a vigilante stalking an innocent civilian and not leaving them alone?”

Some clicking and a whoosh of the air lets you  know he’s on the chase again. Gotham has never been a particularly safe place to walk alone after dark, even after the Bats rose to the occasion. The goons and villains made it hard, for sure, but the crumbling infrastructure of the city was just the icing on the cake. Buses and the train don’t run late, leaving a long walk in uncomfortable shoes after being stood up on a date.

“The media,” comes the reply, voice dripping with pride, “would simply see one of their beloved vigilantes doing their job! Nothing wrong with that.”

God, you hate he isn’t even out of breath keeping up with you. Not like you’re walking that fast, but still. You hope he trips.

“Maybe if the media knew what a dick you are, one that stands up their partner on a date they’ve been planning for months, specifically to not be interrupted!” You snap, unable to keep the simmering anger down. Fuck, if you weren’t angry about it, you’d cry. Inhaling slowly, you curl your hands into fists with determination to not make a scene. You stomp on.

It’s silent for a moment. For two. You would have thought he left if you didn’t know any better.

When Nightwing speaks, his voice is heavy. “Look, I know. I was looking forward to tonight too, but—”

You shake your head. When you breathe out, all the fight you had left. “I get it. I do. I just— let me be upset about it. Okay?”

You don’t get a reply or hear anything, but you know he’s still keeping pace. It’s nothing he can refute anyways. The both of you kept this day clear for months. It’s not often your dates can be more than a relaxed one at home, or spur of the moment. Not that you didn’t love those kinds of dates, of course you did, but it’s nice to dress up and show up for each other. You continue on your path on the crumbling side walk, only thinking about how nice it’ll be to be out of these shoes and in comfortable pajamas, maybe drink a glass of wine or two while ignoring your idiot of a partner.

As you pass through a darker portion of the street, a figure flips down in front of you. You stop abruptly lest you crash into them, but it doesn’t matter when you trip on a stray pebble and tumble right into waiting arms.

The arms curl around you tighter, rather than letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Dick murmurs into your ear. “I’m really sorry. I told them not to call me in but, fuck…”

You stand still as he digs his face into neck. A small crackle distracts you, talking too muffled for you to make anything out, though you know what this means. A hefty sigh runs through your body and you lean your head onto Dick’s shoulder briefly before prying him off.

“Duty calls,” you say softly, staring into lifeless white lenses. You look over him. He’s tense, body standing firmly on his feet in a way you know means he’s going to be stubborn. Suddenly, he clenches his jaw and looks away from you, yet he still doesn’t leave.

Lifting a hand, you softly trace his jaw up to his mask. With a small smile, you whisper “Go.”

“I’ll be as home as soon as I can,” Dick kisses the palm of your hand, and then like a tornado, flips away in a flurry off to whatever disaster is wrecking Gotham this time. You shake your head softly and start moving again.

Before you know it, you’re in bed, eyes blinking blearily as you turn on your phone. 4:43. Why’re you—?

“Did I wake you?”

Hands crawl over your waist, gently tugging you back into a chest. You can barely register the kisses on your neck before turning around to face Dick to croak out “D’ya j’s git h’me?”

You aren’t even sure your eyes are open, but you can still see Dick Grayson through the low lighting. Even while exhausted, he radiates light. He stares at you, hand brushing hair out of your eyes. “Go back to bed.”

“Hm.” is all you can manage before darkness takes over you.

The next time you wake up, a dim light shines through the blinds and you feel significantly more awake. You yawn and stretch out your body. Sitting up, something catches the edge of your eye. You look over and jump. Leaning against the doorway with coffee in hand, stands Dick Grayson. Oversized shirt, sweatpants, barefoot with eyes still half-closed, he looks beautiful.

You narrow your eyes and look to his side of the bed. Empty. You look over at the doorway. Dick. Bed. Doorway. No Dick. Dick. “You,” croaking, you point to the figure, “Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Dick only raises and eyebrow and walks over, hand brushing messy hair of of your eyes. “Am I not allowed to get up early?”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not. You’re supposed to still be in bed until noon,”

“Well,” he smiles before pushing a thumb on your forehead, tilting your head backwards. You straighten up and give him a look. “Get up. We have somewhere to be,”

Standing up, you reach your hands above your head and stretch. “Is it important?”

You wander to the bathroom, flipping the lights on and yawning. Dick drifts over and watches you brush your teeth from the doorway as he takes another sip. “Super important. I have a full day of making up to do with my very angry partner.”

The statement makes a wave of butterflies go through you. Washing your mouth out, you look at his reflection in the mirror. “Are you being serious?”

Dick’s reflection nods. “Very serious,” he replies, bright grin overtaking his features, “Funded by Bruce, too. As an apology.”

Now that statement makes you smile. You quickly turn around, affection bubbling within you and threatening to spill over. Stepping towards Dick, you gently push the coffee out of the way and capture his lips in a long kiss. Just as it starts to get serious– invoking a different kind of butterflies– you pull away.

Dick stares at you with a dazed expression.  “I’ll be quick,” you promise.

“I mean,” he mumbles, leaning towards you presumably to finish what you started, “We don’t have to leave right away… We could take a minute—”

A peck cuts him off. Dick immediately tries to deepen the kiss, but you just pull away and push him out of the doorway so you can close the bathroom door.

“Save that for later, Grayson,” you smirk. Just before the door shuts, you lift on eyebrow. “By the time I’m out of this bathroom, you better be ready to go. I’m not wasting a single minute today.”

The door clicks shut. You hear him chuckle and call out an affirmation. Turning back to the mirror so you can finish your morning routine, you look at yourself. Bright eyes, blushed cheeks, wide grin. You weren’t lying to him, you weren’t going to waste a single minute today. That included after you get home from your outing together. Dick definitely needed a punishment after yesterday, and you intend to make him learn his lesson all night long.

Well. You better get ready.

fin.

[d3v1ls4dvocat3]

Doomed

James “Bucky” Barnes x Fem! Reader Smut

Summary: When Bucky notices the new neighbor, he can’t seem to get her out of his head! Whatever will he do?

W.C: 1600

Tags: Smut!, pervert! Bucky, panty thief! bucky, guilty bucky?, mentions of lingerie, AFAB! Reader, age gap but it’s not specified, male masturbation, breast fixation, nipple fixation, p in v? kinda? it doesn’t actually happen, Bucky POV, mentions of steve, mentions of war and Buck being the Winter Solider

MDNI!! Let me know if I missed anything!!

He remembers the exact day you moved into the apartment across the hall.

It was only a few days before the new year. Everyone on the floor had seemingly left to be with family, not that he bothered to keep track of his neighbors whereabouts, but he had noticed the overall lack of people when he made the unfortunate trip out of his apartment to see his therapist every other day.

That made your appearance even more noticeable.

Bucky liked to keep track of everyone he saw day-to-day anyway, it helped calm his nerves (rather he told himself it calmed his nerves) and luckily enough for him, you didn’t want to stop and introduce yourself.

Over the next few weeks, he only saw you a handful of times. You both never said anything, barely even looked at each other. It was nice.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. His therapist was sure to tell him that, much to his distain. Strangely enough, it was on one of his trips coming back from another session with Dr. Raynor that he found you cursing to yourself standing outside your apartment.

A part of him wanted to just walk by, and avoid the headache altogether. But he could hear a quiet voice in his mind that sounded a lot like Steve telling him to man up and help a poor lady in need. He sighed mentally and cleared his throat to grab your attention.

You looked up with slight shock and embarrassment. “Oh.. uhm, I’m not in your way am I?” You asked.

He frowned. “No, sorry. You look like you’re having some trouble there?”

Your eyes seemed to light up. “Is it that obvious?”

Bucky chuckled lightly and stepped closer to you, offering a hand of assistance. You gladly handed him your key.

“This building is old. These keys get stuck all the time. You’ve gotta know how to turn it to get it to unlock,” Bucky said as he fidgeted with your lock.

You watched him with unwavering eyes. Unknowingly to you, he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. This was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at your face. You were young, way younger than anyone he’d talked to recently. Most likely a college student. You held yourself with confidence but not in a way that made you seem cocky. You just had a sense of determination he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was refreshing. Reminded him of sunlight.

He immediately frowned at that thought and focused his attention on your lock. Within a moment a quiet ‘click’ sounded through the small hallway. Your face lit up with a smile so bright he almost had to look away.

“Oh my god, thank you! I seriously thought I was fucked there,” You exclaimed.

He nodded and stepped back. “No problem. You can come get me if it does it again. I’m pretty much always home.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “I will. Seriously, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He watched you escape into the comfort of your home. He smiled, unbeknownst to himself and turned to his own apartment.

Cute.

_____

The next time he saw you was only a few weeks later.

Since the door fiasco, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you was like a breath of fresh air. He felt almost addicted to it, to how he felt at that moment.

So when he opened the door to the laundry room he was understandably surprised to see you. He was also even more surprised to see you in nothing but pajama pants and a very very small tank top.

And no bra.

He was going to turn around. Laundry could wait. Just as soon as his hand hit the door knob, he heard an intake of breath.

“It’s you!”

He sighed.

Bucky turned back around and smiled. “It’s me.”

You were smiling that same damn smile. He felt weak in his knees.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” You said happily.

He nodded. “I don’t get out much.”

You hummed in understanding. “I get that. I’m still getting used to the city myself.”

It was quiet for only a moment, before you noticed Bucky’s small basket of laundry. You quietly moved over and motioned to the washing machine.

“I’m almost done with the dryer,” You said. Bucky muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and began throwing his clothes into the washer. Once he was finished you both sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t think I ever got your name…?”

Bucky himself was surprised at the question that came from his mouth. You also seemed surprised for a second before grinning.

As you said your name, he watched your lips form the word. Your name fit you, he thought. He whispered it to himself, trying to commit it to memory. Although, he was sure just like everything else about you, he wouldn’t forget it.

“James,” He said in return.

“Nice to officially meet you, James,” You practically purred. He felt his knees go weak again. He feared that might be a common occurrence around you.

As the silence fell over you again, Bucky began to struggle with his most recent thoughts. He questioned why he was acting like a teenager with a crush again?

Bucky had been through more than twenty men combined. He’d done things so horrible he couldn’t even speak about it. He’d seen things that would make anyone want to commit suicide. So why, out of all things, was a girl making him feel so weak?

He quietly looked over at you again. He traced the outline of your figure. Your hair down to your eyelashes. His eyes moved to your lips, plump and wet from where you’d licked them while talking.

He continued trailing down until his eyes stopped on your breasts. He felt guilt wash over him immediately at the practically sinful sight before him. He could perfectly make out your tits. The cold air in the room had made your nipples perk up just enough to poke through the already thin tank top.

Bucky glanced away quickly as the buzzer from the dryer sounded. He turned slightly to hide his tightening pants. You bent over to grab your clothes and he practically called out to god to strike him dead right there before he made a fool of himself.

It felt like years before you were up again and leaving the room. Before you closed the door, you waved bye to him. Bucky had to force every once of what he’d learned as an assassin just to seem normal enough to wave back.

Once the door closed behind you, he groaned and put his face in his hands. He tried to calm his breathing, using some of the techniques Dr. Raynor had taught him in one of their very first sessions. It was probably close to ten minutes before he felt okay enough to remove his hands from his face.

Bucky needed to calm down. You were just a girl. There was absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.

He repeated that to himself as he took his clothes out of the washing machine. As he went to throw them into the dryer, a small bright red thing caught his eye.

He grabbed it before he could even process what it was. He held up the laced piece of clothing he wasn’t sure would cover anything and knew he was doomed.

“Fucking dirty girl…”

_________

He was a pervert.

He knew he was a pervert. He felt guilty and ashamed and terrible.

However,

The thought of you wearing nothing but those red laced panties and a matching bra had been plaguing Buck’s mind. He couldn’t stop. He’d tried. He’d done everything he could think of.

He’d taken a cold shower.

He’d gone for a run.

He even tried to watch some of the movies that Steve had written down in his journal of things he “absolutely needs to watch and listen to” or whatever the blond had said.

Nothing could get that image out of his head.

It was three in the morning when he was fed up and aching and he needed release. He hadn’t meant to grab them. He was simply caught up in the moment. His hand stroking up and down his cock. He moaned and stroked faster.

Once the soft fabric touched his tip, he had to stop himself from instantly cumming.

“Oh fuck…” He moaned. Bucky wrapped the thong tightly around his hand. In his mind, he imagined your hips rubbing up and down his hard on. Teasing him in every way you knew would rile him up.

“Something wrong, Barnes?”

He groaned. He was fucking up into his fist now. He imagined flipping you over, grabbing your hands with his metal one and using his other one to squeeze your breasts.

He imagined kissing down your stomach until he got to those red panties and slowly, sensually kissing down them until you were begging to feel him. Begging him to touch you.

“Say my fucking name, doll,” He moaned.

He imagined your hands wrapped around his back and he mercilessly pounded into you. He imagined your soft lips wrapped around his full length, with your bright eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him.

He cursed.

“Nice to officially meet you, James.”

Suddenly he was cumming into his fist. He continued to stroke his cock until he was spent. As he calmed down, he looked down to see the mess he’d made with your undergarments.

“Fuck.”

He was seriously doomed.

[vmlnrzmp4]

"𝘕𝘖 𝘉𝘖𝘠𝘚!"

—presenting overprotective blue lock dads.

itoshi sae

you and sae were at the park—watching little natsuki playing with bubbles all by herself. giggling and occasionally calling out saying 'ma! papa! look at this giant bubble!'

"she's energetic today," you say as you look at sae who didn't take his protective eyes away from natsuki one bit.

just then—a boy around her age walks up to her, "cool!" he exclaimes as he watches the bubbles going into the sky and popping, "i'm kai," the boy extends his hand which she gladly accepts.

"'m natsuki!"

you smile as you see the two little kids playing with soapy bubbles, "she made a new friend," you say, but the smile on your face faded away as you look at your husband, "we're not doing this, itoshi sae."

"ma! papa! look!" she holds up a bubble with both of her soapy hands which kai pops as the two of them laugh on it, "you try it too, kai-kun!"

kai...kun?

"that's enough natsuki," sae says getting up, "we're going home."

"but papa—!"

from afar, kai's parents call him too, "bye natsu-chan! see you tomorrow!"

natsu...chan? that made a vein pop on sae's forehead as he picks his daughter up, you follow beside.

"papa's mad," she pouts, "did i do something wrong, papa?"

"you're papa's extra sometimes," you chuckle, "he's not mad. are you papa sae?"

he clicks his tongue, "i'm not mad, princess. im only concerned like a good parent should be," he says, "stay away from boys, you hear me? especially the ones who call you natsu-chan. they'll only get attached."

"attached?" little natsuki asks curiously.

"you're papa's the most dramatic man i know," you say in disbelief, "it's alright. you can go play with kai-kun tomorrow hm?"

"over my dead body."

itoshi rin

"what."

papa rin asked too sternly tho it didn't scare little sakura as she happily tells how a boy kissed her cheek and called her a princess at daycare.

"it felt funny so i told him to kissy me again!"

while you watched them from the kitchen, you sigh, knowing what's coming up, "don't start rin," you say, making him run his hand over his face.

"what's his name, sakura?" rin asks and she cheerfully answers.

"hiro-kun!"

his eye twitches as he feels the annoyance growing and his questions don't stop there. he keeps on asking and asking and asking her questions till you finally stop him, coming out of the kitchen, "maybe you should not allow him to kissy you," you say. you can't help but be as protective.

"no need for kissys from others, ma and papa already spoil you a lot with them," rin declares.

"b-but, he made me feel like a princess!"

"sakura," rin sighs, "you're already a princess to me."

"i am?"

"yes. to me and ma. both," rin assures, "so stay away from boys. ok? stay away from boys who try to kissy you. who try to hold your hand, who try to give you chocolates, who try to give you flowers—"

"rin."

he ignores you, "and especially stay away from the ones who call you princess and—"

"itoshi rin."

he halts and she pouts, "but i like hiro-kun...he promised he'll marry me..."

"listen sakura," rin cups her chubby cheek, "you're not allowed to marry."

"...not ever?"

"not ever."

tears swell her eyes as she yells, "then i'm running away with hiro-kun!" she rushes back to her room to start packing her stuff, already preparing her departure.

you had to physically grab rin from proceeding with whatever he had in his mind, running your hand over his chest soothing him. rin lets out the most gut wrenching sigh, "im picking her from daycare tomorrow."

isagi yoichi

papa yoichi never thought that a little habit of yuki bringings smooth stones home was something else. that's when one day where she was simply drawing something and showed her papa her masterpiece.

"papa! look!"

"let me see what my princess has made—" he halted. a drawing—of stones. yuki. and her holding someone's hand.

"princess," he calls, "who's this?"

"thas me!" she says happily.

"and who's this beside you?"

"that's kazu-kun!" she smiled proudly, "he said he finds the prettiest smooth stones for me!"

kazu-kun. pretty smooth stones. for my princess???

"cute isn't it?" you say, walking out of the kitchen as you inspect the drawing.

betrayal. pure betrayal. top 10 anime betrayals—

"y/n-chan," yoichi calls firmly, "you knew about this?"

you sighed. knowing what's coming up, "yo-chan they're 4—"

"exactly! yuki's 4! she's not supposed to have a—" his hands moves dramatically as he explains, "kazu-kun!"

"yo-chan—"

"it's stones first, then it's going to be love letters, then—"

"isagi yoichi."

he sighs, placing his hands on his knees as he gets up, "yuki."

"hai papa?"

"let's go out. i'll teach you how to skip stones on water."

michael kaiser

"promise me anne," papa michael crouches down to her level, "promise me you'll never get a boyfriend."

little anne blinks in confusion, "why, papa?"

"because," he starts sternly, "boys are trouble. they don't know how to treat a princess like you. understood?"

"but i wan' one..." she pouts, "i wan' alex."

the world froze.

"anne," he says her name sternly, "who is alex?"

"i'll show you!" within a second she hops and rushes in to get her class photograph. her papa adjusts the glasses resting on his forehead, pushing them down to eye level as he inspects before looking at you.

you simply shrug, "they have a homework date this saturday."

"nonsense," he takes his glasses off in disbelief—he's seen too much, "boys don't do homework!"

"mihya, calm down—"

"they only run around with their snotty noses!"

"michael kaiser," you interrupt sharply as anne hugs your waist, confused at her papa's reaction. or rather overreaction.

"why is papa mad, ma?".

you caress her hair, "papa isn't mad at you, he's being overprotective," you glare at him, "and he's gonna stop that."

he scoffs, "stop what?"

"stop scaring her with your over dramaticness," you say firmly.

"anne listen to me," he begins. again, "all you need to focus on is homework, ma, papa, and soccer. who needs alex anyways?"

she gasps, "i need alex!" she says happily, making her papa mumble mein gott to which you couldn't help but laugh as you quickly looked away.

"you're laughing?" he glares at you, "this is funny to you?"

"very."

"what's next? you're going to be laughing beside me while i cough blood and cry when my princess is there in her wedding dress and that dumb kid alex is just waiting for the right moment to kiss—"

"papa..." anne looks up at her papa with teary eyes and she runs to him and hugs his waist, "don't cough blood. don't cry."

"princess..." he sighs, picking anne up in his arms, placing so many kissys on her chubby cheeks, "nothing bad will happen to papa."

"i love you papa."

he exhales softly, "that's all i need to hear," he says before attacking her with more kissys making her giggle as he spins her around, "i love you too princess."

"...and the homework date?" you interrupted.

"cancel it," he says, stopping mid-spin, placing her down, "my princess has her papa to study with."

she laughs giddily, "but i still like alex."

your husband looks at you. and you could read his expressions so well because ofcourse you do! "no michael, you're not calling his parents."

[woso-dreamzzz]

New Girlfriend III

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Teen!Reader

Summary: You make a game

When Lucy cracks open your door, you're as you always are.

You're hunched over your computer, clicking around some game level aimlessly with your tongue sticking out in concentration.

Your mice, like they always are when you're in the room, are running riot in their pen.

Outside of their cage and on the floor, you've set up a little pen for them to roam around and play in.

Lara and Zelda are wrestling like always as Clementine tries to work through the enrichment puzzle full of food. Ezio is asleep, flopped over on your shoulder as you study whatever new game you've found.

"You ready for dinner?"

Now that it's gotten colder, you've managed to get even moodier than before and even more of a shut in.

"One sec," You say. You click around the game level a bit more before pulling up a separate tab to type a long string of something Lucy can't even hope to understand. "Alright, I'm done. What's up?"

Lucy rolls her eyes fondly. "Dinner. Now. Ona cooked."

You push your chair out from your desk and stretch, your back cracking from the long hours you've spent hunched over.

You put the mice back into the cage, each of them getting a quick snuggle and kiss before you bolt it shut.

"Is it good food?" You ask as you go down the stairs.

"It's better than your mum makes!" Ona calls out and you grin.

"Yeah, but anything's better than Mum's cooking!"

Lucy grumbles, shaking her head. "One nice meal is all I ask. One meal where I don't get horrifically bullied!"

"We don't bully you," You say," It's character building!"

You and Ona laugh and Lucy just rolls her eyes. Sometimes, you think she would prefer if it went back to what it was like when you were first adapting to Ona.

"Oh," She says," I sent you those audio files you wanted."

"Thanks."

Lucy frowns. "She's been making you do those too?"

"Yeah, it's for a school project, right?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. It's for programming."

"I know I shouldn't have let you sign up for that," She says," It's all you ever do. I think you're losing sleep over it."

"You'll like it," You declare," What I'm working on. I promise."

"I'm sure that I will but it doesn't mean I think you're sleeping well. Put it down for once, that's all I'm saying."

You roll your eyes.

Lucy's always like that about your programming. Sometimes she lays asleep at gone three in the morning and can still hear you typing away on your computer for hours on end.

You return to your room after dinner ends and briefly come out to show Ona what you're working on while also denying Lucy the same opportunity.

"You've love it," Ona assures her at training the next day.

"Love what?" Keira asks," Oh, y/n's game? Yeah, you'll love it, Luce."

"Am I the only one that hasn't seen it?!" She demands, glancing around the room at people who are trying to not make eye contact with her. "Seriously? Raise your hand if you've seen it?"

Slowly, everyone raises their hand.

"This is so unfair!"

When you first got given the project, Lucy had been the first person to be clued into your plans. You showed her all your design sketches and all your ideas as you jumped between them.

At one point, one of your bedroom walls had been covered in concept designs and you would stand in front of it and point out certain aspects you liked and things you didn't think were quite perfect yet.

Lucu had been integral to your thought process and then all of a sudden she was shut out. You'd ask her to record voice lines or demonstrate doing something but you'd never explain why or what it was for.

You all but unplugged your computer when she came in unexpectedly and tried to get a sneak peak.

"Alright," Lucy says when she gets home to see you and Ona giggling on the sofa together," I've had enough. Show me your project."

You sit upright immediately, eyes wide.

"No-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. I've had enough of the secrets."

She's serious. You can tell by the clench in her jaw and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

Lucy's stubborn but you inherited from her so you're stubborn too.

Your cross your arms in the same way as you stand. "No! It's not finished! You can see it when you're finished!"

"Hey," Ona intervenes before the argument can truly get heated. Her hand rests on your shoulder. "It's okay. Just show her."

"I can't! It's not ready!"

"Come on," Ona says," Show her."

You glance at your Mum, who is staring at you with that same stern look and crossed arms as the one that she came in with.

"Fine. Give me a sec."

Lucy sits on the sofa as Ona hooks up a laptop to the tv.

You come back in with a disc and nervously put it into the dvd slot.

Lucy doesn't know what to say when the opening credits appear.

'Lucy Bronze: The Game' with a little pixel version of her holding the Champion's League trophy up on her head.

"We were meant to make a game about a hero," You say," And you're my hero."

[st4rymoon]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶

*+:｡.｡ Nerdy Best Friend Miguel O’Hara x Reader

University AU, 18+, pussy fiend Miguel I’m sorry I love writing these, Pervy Miguel, panty stealing, porn! watching, subby miguel

You walked into Miguel’s dorm, lucky for him he had his own personal dorm but on the other hand, you had an insufferable roommate.

Miguel had been your friend since your first year in university. Both of you enjoyed the similarities in each other. You didn’t like socializing much and neither did he. He was always buried in studying, and so were you.

“Miguel” you yelled into his living room. The second you yelled you heard a thump and a few cusses from Miguel’s room. “Miguel?“

“Ye- yeah yeah I’ll be right there” you laughed at his tone. You bursted into his room and there you saw Miguel sitting at his desk, hair disheveled and his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose.

You raised an eyebrow seeing him sweaty and flushed red. “Oh god you were watching porn weren’t you” you chuckled as you walked up to his desk “No I wasn’t”

Miguel was good at a lot of things, but definitely not lying.

“Liar” you sigh as you stared onto his screen. As you moved his mouse across the tabel you looked down slightly, your eyes widening as you peeked into his desk drawer.

Were those your red lace panties? You swore you must’ve lost them while washing but the slightly ripped bow at the front gave it away.

Was Miguel really fucking himself into your panties? You must’ve forgotten them. Right? You’ve showered here before, maybe you left them and he kept them to give them back.

You looked up at Miguel and he was as stiff as a board, his eyes on the computer as his hands clenched at his thighs. “What were you watching?” You leaned down so your cleavage was near his face. You clicked onto his screen, he hid whatever he was watching behind another tab.

The title ‘Giving my best friend a creampie” plastering the video. You chuckled “are you trying to tell me something?”

You’ve never seen Miguel so embarrassed it was cute. For such a scary looking guy he was the opposite if you got to know him. “I’m sorry I really am. I swear I’m not weird or anything, I’m not a perv” Miguel was pleading as he looked up at you.

“Really? Then what’s this?” You coo as you reached into his drawer and pulled out your poor panties that were soaked in his cum. Miguel was stumbling on his words, you could tell he was trying his best to not scare you.

You weren’t scared, if you were being honest you were turned on by it. Was this how he got off? Fucking himself into your panties while watching porn? Neither of you talked about sex much or each others sex lives so you have no idea if he was a virgin but if you had to guess, he was.

You sat on his desk right beside him, the second you sat on his desk he went quiet. His eyes moved to your thighs, his tongue instinctively licking his lips as he watched you intently.

“If you wanted to do whatever you were watching with me, you could’ve just asked” you hummed with your arms crossed. He looked up at you with parted lips, his pupils dilated and red as he studied you.

You tilted your head to the side giving him a teasing pout. It was like a switched flipped inside him with that pout. Miguel’s hands wrapped under your thighs, tugging you in front of him and ripping your legs apart.

You gasped as he dove between your legs, a loud moan leaving his lips as he softly ate you out threw your panties. Wearing a skirt was definitely the right choice right now.

You watched hazily as Miguel lapped and moaned into you, his fingers hooking onto your panties and dragging them down your thighs. “I love you, thank you. Love you so much”

Miguel felt like he was high, your scent filled his senses as he sat between your legs. He didn’t know what he was saying but he could careless. This was everything he’s been dreaming of. You in front of him, legs spread and soaked as you let him use you.

Your back arched off the desk as he licked a stride up your cunt, a soft whimper leaving Miguel as he tasted you. The feeling of his tongue lapping and sucking at your clit was overwhelming.

Your hands tangled into his hair, allowing you to grind onto his face as his tongue dipped into your leaking hole. “Mmhm” is all you could hear from between your legs mixed with the wet sounds of your soaked pussy.

You stared down at Miguel in ecstasy as he ate you out, he looks so pretty like this. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to finally eat you out. He felt like a weight off his shoulder now knowing how you tasted let alone sounded.

“Mi- mig-“ His eyes shot up to you, his mouth still lapping. He watched you squirm, smiling at the way your stomach clenched and eyes squeezed shut as you used his nose while he tasted you.

“I’m- fuck don’t stop” you were gasping for air as he pinned you onto the desk. You knew you would never get this imagine out of your head. Miguel’s hungry eyes staring up at you with his hair a complete mess as he ate you out.

You heard Miguel let out a grumbled moan, his whimpers growing louder as he felt your clit throb “so- so good”

The orgasm hit you hard, your moans filling the room as you clawed at his hands. Miguel pulled back slowly, his heavy breaths making you shake as he stood up from between your legs. “Oh m- fuck” you gasped.

You perched up on your elbows, Miguel’s hands coming to help you sit up properly “did I do it right?” Miguel asked in concern. You chuckled at his question “definitely”

You pulled him down into kiss, a soft moan leaving his mouth as he finally kissed you. Both of you smile onto each other as you take in what both of you did.

You played with the strings of his sweats as he held onto your thighs. Looking down at his sweats, you see a slightly darker shade of grey on his crotch “I couldn’t help it” Miguel’s head lowers.

Did he really just cum by eating you out?

[luvyeni]

🥮… ( drabble ) ̨ new do ! ୨୧ 一 황현진 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ hyunjin showing you his new haircut ヾ

boyfriend!hyunjin・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.6k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. buzzcut hyune drabble? 🤤

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3 !!!

standing in your kitchen; washing the dishes while you waited for hyunjin to get back from whatever he was doing — so unaware of what was to walk through your front door.

hyunjin walked through the front door; smiling at the sight in front of him, you were dancing around to his solo song in one of his shirts; he was in love. running his fingers through his newly buzzed hair like muscle memory. “baby.”

he sat his bag down; taking his shoes off before making his way into the kitchen. “baby.” he said in sing songy voice; shaking his head because you were so deaf sometimes. he finally came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “oh my god!” you jumped in shock. “you didn’t hear me?” he placed his chin on your shoulder. “no the music was too loud.” you reached over to turn the volume down.

“where did you go so suddenly?” you turned around to face your man, your jaw dropping. “you like?” he smiled. “i sent you off with long black hair.” you brought me your hands to his head. “you don’t like it?”

like it? you fucking loved it. “no i love it, it’s just new.” you said, rubbing his head, he sighed feeling your fingers on his scalp. “i don’t have anything to tug at anymore, but i definitely can get used to this.” you giggled as he kissed your neck, pulling away looking at you with lust in his eyes. “here i am wanting to show you my new hair and you’re thinking naughty.” his hands traveling down to your waist , lifting you onto the counter. “hyune what are you doing?”

“what does it look like princess?” he pushed the shirt up to your waist; kissing the inside of your thighs. “gonna eat your pretty little pussy.” you moaned out as he kissed your cunt through your panties. “hyunjin.” he chuckled, pulling them to the side. “such a pretty pussy; so tasty.” before you say anything your words were caught in your throat by him licking a fat stripe up your slip. “oh-oh fuck.”

he began to devour you like it was his last meal, licking and sucking your folds; his hands tight around your thighs. “hyune.” you moaned , your hands flying to his head like muscle memory. “fuck that feels so good.” pushing his head further in between your legs. “fuck keep going , m’ gonna cum.” your head was thrown back against the cabinet; nails digging into his head — which probably hurt like a bitch , but knowing your boyfriend he was getting a kick out of it. “h-hyune.”

he replaced his lips with one of his long fingers; curling it inside you; a lazy smirk stained his lips, that were covered in you. “you gonna cum baby?” you nodded profusely. “fu-fuck yes , please let me cum , please.” you sobbed out. “fuck look at you begging for so prettily.” he chuckled; your man was already fine , but this new haircut just made him extra fine — and you didn’t even know that was possible. “cum for me , cream my fingers.” his voice was so seductive and that was all you needed , before your legs were wrapping around his forearm and you were cumming , shaking in his hold. “that’s it , make a mess on my fingers.”

he used his thumb to rub little circles on your clit to further the orgasm. “so pretty baby.” he pulled his fingers from outside of you, bringing them to his plump lips. “you taste so fucking good princess.” he never forgot to give you a loving kiss on your forehead. “see i know you would find away to hold on to my head , although it kinda hurts.” you giggled. “you wouldn’t be hard as rock right now if you didn’t like it.” you could feel him , pressed against you. he nodded agreeing, grinding against you , you moaned out. “you’re right about that princess.”

“i want you to keep gripping my head while my cock is breeding your pretty pussy.”

©️LUVYENI

[becomesylus]

5:00 pm

this is heavily inspired by the new banner trailer hehe i don’t think i’ll ever shut up about it (also this is not beta read, so i’ll check it out when i’m done with whatever the fuck i’m dealing with)

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

snow falls into the ground, leaving a white blanket onto the earth as early night sets in. Cool, freeze that causes pimples of goosebumps erecting out of sensitive skins, serving its reminders of the wintering season.

one way to warm up is to be within the near vicinity of your loved ones, providing with love and warmth that can calm the cold.

but he’s not calming the heart as you were red faced and heartbeats as he places his hot lips into your naked skin…

Xavier pins you up against the window, the strap of your nightgown fails to conceal your top half as it sips down your arm, leaving your soft skin pressed against the cold glass from the freezing outside.

One hand pins your wrist, the other roams between your legs, using his long middle and ring digits to languidly play with the damp fabric, leaving you gasping for more vigorous movements from him. You grind against his finger while he kisses against your neck, nipping and sucking to surely leave a mark on the empty canvas. He lets go of your wrists, placing his free hand on your jaw, turning your head. His large lustful blue eyes intensely gazes into yours and your lips, before he leans in to lock his lips into yours, breathy gasps exchange between the two of you.

While one hand holds your jaw and neck to steady your head, his other hand pushes your panties to the side as he gathered your essence before inserting his nimble fingers into your pollen. You moaned against his lips while he gasps at the warmth you’re giving him, continuing his strokes.

He slightly smirks as he hears the squelching sounds his fingers makes inside of you, if that’s how wet and delicious you sound with just his fingers, then how would it sound like with his cock?

Almost as if he can tell you were getting close just based on your pants and your legs giving out, he suddenly stops moving before he turns you around, now your back placed into the cool glass, making you instinctively arch, while he vigorously takes your soiled panties off.

He then began removing your nightgown, leaving you bare right in front of him, while the only thing immodest about him is his shirt is entirely unbuttoned. Your chest moved up and down following your rapid movement, while Xavier’s eyes intensely gazes into yours figure, eyeing you like you were a goddess fallen from the sky. He places you by the desk and grips your legs as he spreads them and places himself in between them.

“Don’t move…” he whispers with a shudder, his ears turning red in desire as he prepares himself to devour your all night.

You shouldn’t be in his room, but you were thankful that your poor planning came in your favor, as you had been unexpected wrapped in Rafayel’s lustful trap.

He had caught you as he began slamming his lips into yours in a feverish fashion, his strong arms wrapping itself onto yours as his scolding tone contradicts his actions.

“You’re in my room…” He groaned as he held you closer to gather more of your skin, nipping and kissing onto yours neck with passion and vigor. “You’re the one who walked in here…” he whispers as he went back to your lips as he twirled you and lightly pushed you onto the bed.

His tongue wrestles with yours as his hand began roaming the side of your body underneath him, pushing your dress up high to reveal your panties. As you began down to unbuckling his belt, suddenly a call interrupts the session. He pulled away, as he sees who’s the call.

As he was distracted, you took the opportunity to push him down, catching him off guard. His eyes widened as you took the phone and hung up.

“The guest of this room is unable to answer, please leave a message after the tone”

the automated telecom echoed in the room, yet the silent intensity lustful gaze between the two permeate screamed louder. The caller’s message asking about Rafayel was background noise while the sounds of kissing and Rafayel’s moans conceals it.

“Are you sure—“ His words cut off as you press your lips onto his, proceeding with the interrupted session. His hands places itself on yours hips as they grind into him, resulting in whispered whimpers and praises.

He looks up at you as you lowered yourself, your hands gripping the hem of his pants and boxer and pulling them down, releasing his leaking hard cock out of its cage. You began kissing it from the shaft up to the tip, leaving trails of teasing affection onto his sensitive skin.

He shudders as he pets your head and strokes your cheeks before you inserted his cock into his mouth, making him gasps.

“stay with me…”

You didn’t know what was in Zayne’s drink, but you were far from complaining. What once held a concerned mindset now holds a mind filled with desire and passion for the doctor that is holding and kissing you with such desperation like you were going to fade away from his arms.

He placed you in his desk, pushing away all its content without a care into the ground, as his lips on you grows heavy and fiery. His glasses on his face was later discarded when he pulled away, almost like it served itself as a wall to preventing from having him. The typical composed, calm and collected doctor that you know of was gone, what stands in front of you is a man who’s desperate and longing with such fiery desires for you.

You began giggling as the way he nibbling on the soft skin of the tops your breasts, “Zayne, you need to calm down, I’m not going anywhere…”

He pulls away, face flushed, hazel eyes brimmed with desires, still holding onto you.

"I need you... I need you so bad..." He whispers as he eyes with such desperation.

You attempt to get out of his grip to get him to cool down, but the made it all the worse. Before you get the chance to escape, he pins you against the wall, and he begins to lean even closer to you.

"You keep saying I'm drunk... must I always stay sober?"

The questions are rhetorical as he began crashing his lips into yours, whimpering to your gasping mouth. Desperation is riddled within his system, and who were you to deny that as you wrapped your thighs around his waist and allowed him to take you right up against the wall.

Sylus took such good care of you...

The way his strong arm carries you and the other carries your heel as he walks you both to his bedroom, only for the two of you to relax in. The heating tension between the two of you were imminent in the atmosphere, ready for either of you to address it and get ready to go on that ride.

Sylus drops your heels as he places you into the bed as he stands up and looks at you with such care, he gave you his signature smirk as he began to unbutton the first few buttons as he sits on the couch before you, sighing as he lays back.

You looked at him quizzingly, "You're not going to bed?"

He just chuckles and shakes his head, "I'm not that sleepy."

You were both satisfied and annoyed at his answer. You stood up from your bed and walked up to him, he mirrored you and towered you as he gripped your arms.

"C'mon, kitten, it's been a long night, you must be tir—" He gasped as you pushed him back onto the couch and crashed your lips onto his, straddling onto his lap, which he naturally held onto your hips. It was a move that was unexpected from you, normally you'd be shocked from this but right you couldn't care any less. It was a long time coming, and the time is now and you didn't know how long you would take it.

You pulled away for a breather, only for Sylus to pull you in once again, still wanting more from your lips, this time his tongue wanting more to taste you.

"You have... no... idea how much I want to do this..." Sylus whispers against your lips, his red eyes glows a color that shines brighter than a ruby on fire. He pulled you in once again to give strings of passionate kisses, his hands roaming freely across your body, large hands groping every soft skin you can expose.

He unexpectedly picked you up, mouths still latching onto each other, only to pull away for air and quickly going in the the pool of ardent love and lust, only to place you on the bed with him on top.

He pulls away, breathless and lips plump from the intense make out session. His eyes still carry that igniting flame of passion, leaving trails of flame all across your body. He gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to him, as he chuckles breathlessly before huskily whispering while his hand sneaks with your dress,

"I'm hoping yes is still your answer... because I just can't hold back anymore..."

most of the phrasing have been taken from the trailer, but everything else is inspirational.