#i've been wanting to do this for a long time and i finally signed up and it's finally almost here!

[themostlesbianever]

College AU Sevika x reader

A/N: I am genuinely so sorry for having y'all wait for so long😔 I was busy with Christmas prep and then Christmas.

I will be trying to post more frequently but im not promising anything.

Thanks for all the support so far����🙏 Enjoy!

(This is semi-proofread, its nearly 3 am and im tired, but i wanted to give you the next chapter)

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A few weeks have passed and you’re settling into the college routine nicely, struggling here and there but still, nicely. You and Sevika have been getting closer as well, you would even go so far as to call her a friend. You don’t see her all the time because she’s busy with schoolwork, friends and extracurriculars. Just like you. After a day or 2 you had found out she plays rugby which was understandable with the way she was built. She also frequents the campus gym, lifting impressive amounts of weight while making it look easy.

You’re sitting on your bed reviewing some sheet music, you had always been a bit of a band kid, trying out a bunch of instruments before finally settling on the trumpet. You signed up for band at college and managed to get in. Together with, obviously, Ekko, who plays the drums. Sevika is also sitting on her bed but she’s on her phone. You glance over at her, it looks like she's texting someone.

Then the corner of her mouth lifts up slightly. “What are you smiling at?” you ask, the sudden noise makes her smile drop and her gaze move over to you. “Nothing” she replies, clearly lying. You raise one brow at her and tilt your head slightly, making her rethink her answer.

“Okay fine, so there's this girl an-”. She stops talking when she sees your facial expression change from interested to surprised. “You like women?” you question, and now it's her turn to look surprised. “Was that” she pauses for a second. “Was that not obvious?” she asks, a hint of confusion in her voice.

You simply blink at her and shrug your shoulders. You tell her to continue and she lets out a small chuckle before doing just that. “Well this girl, Rose, slid into my dm’s complimenting one of my photo dumps and we started talking. And now we're kind of flirting, I guess.” A small smile starts to creep onto her lips as she speaks.

“And she’s like, SO pretty oh my god” she continues. “Does she go here?” you ask and she nods. “Anyways” she mumbles, trying to shift the attention off of herself and onto you. You’ve noticed she does that a lot, she doesn’t like talking about herself and is quite closed off. She has been opening up a tiny bit to you as you’ve gotten to know each other. A little fun fact here, a random memory there. It’s been nice.

“What have you been staring at for the past like, hour?” she asks and you sigh before speaking. “It’s the new music we got for band. It's incredibly annoying to play and I have to memorize it.” She furrows her brows a bit. "Wait." She pauses and looks at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re a band kid?” You can’t help but be slightly offended.

“Why do you say that like it's a bad thing? I’ll have you know, I'm very cool” You say while pointing your index finger at her. “Oh I believe that, don’t worry.” She chuckles. “What instrument do you play?” You proudly tell her you play the trumpet which she admits is quite impressive.

She then gets up from her bed, walking over to you and grabbing the music sheets from your hand. Her eyes scan the paper, the more she reads the more her brows furrow, after about a full minute of her looking at the sheets in silence, she looks up at you and speaks. “what the fuck.” You laugh at that.

“Exactly what I’m thinking” you say. “How do you read that shit, seriously?” She asks and gives the pieces of paper back to you. “Oh I've been playing for years, I started with lessons. At first I was actually learning, I learned all the grips and notes, how to hold it correctly, bla bla bla. But then it became learning and memorizing random songs I didn’t care about. So I quit. Just the lessons tho, I never stopped playing.” You explain.

She listens intently, nodding along as you ramble on about your many teachers, performances, friends you had made along your musical journey and how you had begged your mum for your very own trumpet. Quitting lessons also meant having to give back the trumpet they had given to you. Well, not really given, your mum had to pay a monthly fee for lessons and said trumpet.

After a little while you realise you’ve been rambling and apologise. “Oh I’m sorry, I talk a lot” you say quietly. The room suddenly feels very warm, your face heating up in embarrassment. “You’re fine dude” Sevika says. “It’s very entertaining, so don’t worry. You can talk however much you like.” She offers you a soft smile. You smile back and thank her.

Somewhere during your ramble she sat back down on her own bed and leaned back against the wall. She still sits there unmoving, just looking at you in silence, it’s a comfortable silence that the both of you sit in for a bit before you remember you should really be studying this music and look back down at the sheets.

After a while of reviewing your sheets, practicing changing the grips by pretending you’re playing and counting how long you have to be silent for before you have to start playing again, you have had enough. You inhale deeply and breathe it out in the form of a sigh. Sevika looks up at you, a questioning look in her eyes. You hold the sheets up and she chuckles.

You hop off your bed and pull out a binder from one of the bed drawers, placing the music sheets neatly where they belong before closing it and putting it back inside the drawer. Then Sevika speaks. “You said you own a trumpet, did you take it with you for band? Or do you get one from the school”. You turn back around and rest your hips against the wooden frame of your bed, facing Sevika who is still sitting on hers.

“I think there's an option to rent an instrument from the school but I took my own with me, I just prefer it over a random trumpet. Not that they’d be super different from each other but you know. Plus it was possible they wouldn’t even have one for me.” You answered. She simply nods before asking to see your trumpet.

You agree and walk over to your closet, where you store your trumpet, and take it out. You put the storage case on your bed and unclasp it, opening the lid and stepping aside so Sevika can see. She gets off her bed and steps over to the open case. She reaches one of her hands out, glancing over at you as if to ask for permission to touch it. You nod and she runs her fingers over the cold instrument.

“It’s quite pretty” she says and you let out a small huff of air that could be considered a laugh. “It’s really not Sevika. It’s old and it's not as clean as it used to be” you admit and she shrugs. “I think it's pretty.” You’re about to tell her your old trumpet really isn’t that special when you hear a knock at the door.

Sevika walks over and opens the door slightly to see who’s knocking, she opens it all the way when she sees its Ekko. He steps inside. “Dude, do you ever read your texts?” he questions. You shoot him a confused look, he sighs. “Sorry dude, I was reviewing the new music. You are aware we’re supposed to start memorizing it. right?” you ask him, genuinely wondering if he had listened to the given instructions.

“Of course I’m aware” he says while rolling his eyes at you. “Anyway I wanted to ask if you wanted to get lunch. But you weren’t replying so I decided to come over before our possible lunch plans turned into dinner plans” he says, then he looks at you with a disappointed look on his face. “I thought of that amazing joke and I don’t even get a smile? Rude”

“It really wasn’t that funny” you tell him and he rolls his eyes again. Then he looks at Sevika, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Don’t bring me into this.” She says and throws her hands up in the air.

“Fine, but do you wanna get lunch or not?” He asks, looking back at you again. You nod before turning to Sevika. “You wanna come with us” you ask. “Sure why not,” she shrugs. You close the trumpet case and put it back in your closet. “Lets go then.”

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please feel free to comment your thoughts🙏

Tag list: @0eatmysoulll0-blog @misswynters @vikaswife @ladycupa0-0 @d3adbrainer @vintage-karma @gravegoer

[daggersandtorches]

ᯓ ⁺₊ ♱ .ᐟ Devotional Journal

Recently i've been getting what can only be interpreted as signs from Lady Hekate. This is actually a very new experience for me - even though ive been a hellenic pagan for 5 years or so, i've never had a deity reach out to me specifically. I've been working towards understanding what these signs mean to me and my relationship with Lady Hekate. I wanted to share the signs I received...

Firstly, my interest in Lady Hekate has been long founded. I've been into witchcraft and a lot of her domains (herbs, the moon/night and ghosts) for a very long time but i've been very intimidated by her, too scared to reach out to a being with so much presence and power.

The first sign I received was a dream - its important to note I do not ever receive dreams from deities nor do i do dream magic so this kinda spooked me. I had visions of some of her domain aspects aswell as me writing a prayer with her guiding me on it. When I woke up I immediately felt different, like something clicked - the fear I had of deities vanished. I then shared my experience with some friends in the same faith to get some clearer interpretation.

After this some readings were done, extensive ones. Both by me and by others. The most important being my attempt to read for @atheneum-of-you - she was looking for a message from Lord Hermes. This was truly a unique experience as no message would come through. When I finally received a card, it was clear that it was not just for her but for me. I had a conversation with her about it and we realized that Lord Hermes and Lady Hekate were sending a shared message. (These two are both of the crossroads - after some research we understood how strong a connection they had) After much pondering I thought back to my past experiences, wondering why she would be reaching out now. I was brought back to my most recent spell - a money spell. One that worked stronger then any other spell I had completed before, one that I did after reigniting my worship practices. It seems shes reaching out to me over my witchcraft, gifting me with beautiful and succesful spells.

Because of these events I finally believe I have really found my course in this faith. After all this time exploring my faith and practice, I've found the place I need to be. I've truly never felt such passion or such a calling and i'm excited to share this journey with you all~

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Out Of The Blue

Here we go againnnnn

I hope you all are having wonderful holidays <3

I apologize again for the long wait and the short chapter, the end of the year has been... tiring. In the last two months, my 14yo cat got sick, I got sick, got some medical appointments with not so great news (nothing life threatening or anything but just very annoying as I've been dealing with the same things for years now and they are still not fixed), and now my grandpa is sick when his health was already quite fragile, so yeah, my motivation to write wasn't really that high and I got tired very quickly after writing only two sentences, so that's why it took so so long.

I am very thankful for everyone supporting my silly au tho, it helps me to keep going, so thanks a lot <3 I wish you all a very happy new year <3

First

Prev

Next

@ancha-aus I'm summoning you once again

Morning came, and everyone had woken up, Cross first to take his turn in standing guard in a hurry after realizing he had slept for more than the planned few minutes, then Killer, who came by his side to keep him company, then Dust, who stayed next to Horror for the warmth, Horror who took a quick nap after his turn and then stayed with the small skeleton, and finally Nightmare, but he didn't move from his spot.

It was cold and humid, Cross needed to find somewhere dry where they could stay. He was walking around the area they had stopped in, thinking, as Killer was walking next to him.

- Quo tendimus ?

Killer asked, but Cross of course didn't understand. He stared at the roman with confusion.

- Iter ?

Killer tried again. Cross's confusion only grew, what was Killer trying to ask him ? Did he need something ? He didn't seem to have a problem, but maybe he was hungry ? They hadn't eaten since the previous day. Maybe Cross should try and hunt something, but how would he do that ? He only had his sword, and he clearly wouldn't be able to chase any prey in this armor. They should try to find someone, and maybe they'll have food for them.

- Mengier ?

Cross tried to ask him if he wanted to eat. Killer frowned, but quickly nodded once he understood the word. It was one of the few words they used regularly and knew how to say in the other languages.

- Sumemusne cibum omnibus ?

- Uh...

- Omnes: me, vos, Horror, Dust, Nightmare.

Killer explained, pointing at himself and Cross before mentioning the others. Did omnes, or omnibus as he said earlier, mean everybody ? It seemed so, Cross figured. Killer asked something about everybody, did he asked if the others were hungry too ? They most likely were, no one had eaten after all. They should find food for everyone. Cross nodded at Killer, to which he smiled, happy to have been understood. Now, where would they find food ?

Killer ran off.

- Killer ! Atendez !

Cross screamed at him to wait, running after the roman. Why did he run like that ? He wouldn't catch anything if he wasn't more discrete !

- Killer !

Cross called again, but the roman didn't stop and continued to sprint between the trees.

Cross eventually caught up to him, only for Killer to slow down and come to a stop once he reached the end of the forest.

- Ne correz mie ainçois !

Cross said when arriving next to him, telling him to not run like that. The roman didn't listen, instead pointing at what seemed to be a town a little farther. Cross looked at it. It looked familiar. Too familiar. He got out of the woods first, careful, looking around for any sign of danger, and gestured to Killer to follow him once sure the area was safe. The roman joined his side, looking at the town, and waited for the knight to lead the way.

- Retez près de moy.

Cross ordered him to stay close to him, not wanting him to run off again. Both started to walk towards the oddly familiar town as it started to become obvious to Cross that they were in his own time as he recognized the buildings and the way people talked and were dressed. They entered by an alley, Cross first, Killer following close behind.

The knight stopped, looking from side to side, the people here didn't seem to notice him, but would they notice Killer ? He wasn't dressed like them, sure it wasn't as striking as the clothes the rest of the group was wearing, but it still was unusual. Cross made a sign to Killer to follow him before getting out of the alley into the streets, if the people saw that Killer was with him they would probably question his clothing a little less.

The two walked for a brief moment, soon reaching the village square with the merchants, and Cross turned in a tight alley between two houses. They needed to find a way to get one of the merchants to give them some food, which wouldn't be easy, as they didn't have any money on them at the moment, but maybe they could pay differently ? They could offer their help for whatever there needed to be done in exchange for food ? They had to try.

Cross turned to Killer to explain his plan, only to not find Killer behind him.

- Killer ?

He called, but received no answer. Where was he ? Did he lose him ? Did he lose him in the crowd ? How could he lose him ?! He was right behind him ! Wasn't he paying attention to his surroundings ?!

Cross left the alley in a hurry, he needed to find Killer ! Luckily, or unluckily, he quickly heard a merchant yell, and not two seconds later he saw Killer running past him with a bag of bread in his arms. Cross didn't need to be a genius to understand that Killer stole those, which, of course, was the total opposite of being discrete.

- Killer !

Cross tried to call him again, running after him, but the roman was faster than he was as he wasn't running with an armor on. He saw Killer take a turn to the left before hearing a loud noise as if he had fallen on something. Cross hoped he didn't hurt himself, even if he was slightly relieved by the thought that he had stopped running.

He followed Killer in the alley, before freezing: the thief was sitting on the ground, a hand above his bag ready to dive in and take out a knife at any moment, only held back to do so by the sword pointed at his throat. The knight standing in front of him was holding the bag of bread in his free hand. Killer's empty sockets were staring at the knight who's gaze wasn't visible under the helmet.

Cross looked at Killer, feeling his anxiety grow in his chest. Why didn't he do as told and stayed behind him ? Why did he have to run off on his own ? He didn't know how things worked here ! No, what was he thinking about ? It wasn't Killer's fault, all he wanted was bring some food to everyone, he couldn't be mad at him for that. Cross should have explained to him better how to behave instead of dragging him in the middle of the marketplace. He should have thought ahead, because now his friend was in trouble. He needed to help him.

Killer's gaze turned to Cross. He had to do something, to think fast and get Killer and himself out of here. But what could he say ? What could he say for the knight to let him go after having stolen food ? Should he blame it on himself ? Tell that he was the one to ask Killer to steal ?

A voice spoke from behind him before he had time to say anything.

- Nos allons le prandre en carge, mercit.

The knight with the sword turned, looking at who just said they were going to take care of the thief on the ground, before nodding and putting his sword away, leaving with the bag of bread. Killer got up, and Cross turned around, having recognized the voice of his best friend immediately. The latter didn't leave him time to speak before almost jumping forward to embrace him.

- Cross ! Où estais-tu ?!

Blue cried in relief, asking his friend where he had been. Cross hugged him back, relieved too to see him as he sighed, grateful for his help with the other knight. Blue had always been here when he needed help, Cross didn't know if he deserved him, but he was so happy he was here. Now, what could he answer to his question ? Where had he been ? He didn't know for sure, he had been in another time, in another place, with other people from other places and other times, but where had it been exactly ? What could he say for Blue not to think he went crazy ? Would Blue even think he was crazy ? Probably not, he never looked down on him for any reason. He would explain everything to him later, for now they needed food.

Cross let go of him after a few seconds to turn to Killer who was waiting, knife in hand, looking between the two knights.

- Killer, mon amic Blue, Blue, mon amic Killer.

The two skeletons looked at each other, "amic" sounded like "amicus" so Killer assumed it meant friend. Was this knight a friend of Cross ? Judging by how he hugged him, it was highly probable. Blue seemed quite surprised but also excited to meet this new friend as he turned to Cross for more talking that Killer didn't understand. He put his knife away in his bag, and waited for Cross to finish, quite pissed that he didn't have his bag of bread anymore.

After a few minutes, Cross turned to Killer, signing to follow him.

- Omnes.

Everyone, he said, they had to go back to where everyone was, and so Cross lead them both out of the town. Cross's house was farther away, probably too far to reach before the night, but Blue had offered to help them get food and clothes, he knew a little inn that would let them stay for the night for free, the owner was a good friend of him, they would stay and go to Cross's place the next day, once in clean clothes and with full stomachs.

Cross was quite happy, he would get to introduce his new friends to his very best one, and they would eat in a warmer and dryer place than the woods. All would be well, he hoped.

He wanted them to have a good time in his time.

[faynthearted]

OMG I've been trying to find a fic about switched family background au for 84 years but couldn't find it anywhere 💔 i love the idea of poor weak HT and spoiled rich GS lol

i would love if u share with us a snippet of it or share the whole fic 🥲 I'm sure it's really good since it's your work

hope you're doing well

I'm happy to share what I have of this AU, even if it's not much! :)

(also I'm like 98% sure I already posted this snippet on my old blog a long time ago because a certain section of it feels super familiar to me -- so, just in case anyone has been around long enough to recognize it again, I'm posting a longer/extended version of it! enjoy!)

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The city is damp with old rainwater as Guan Shan parks on the curb. When he steps out the car, the night is peaceful, but deceivingly so. Noise often gets lost in the city, especially here in the developing urban areas. Late-night construction sites and the nearby highway overpass do well to mask any other miscellaneous noises. It’s exactly the kind of place Guan Shan would expect to find who he’s looking for.

Hands trembling, Guan Shan double checks the image on Qiu’s phone before half-jogging to the store sign flickering at the end of the block. No one is on the streets at this time of night, and he begins to doubt himself as he nears the storefront and still sees nothing. Are they already gone? Is he too late?

But just as he’s about to stop to get his bearings, Guan Shan hears the echo of voices. Breathing heavy, he slows his pace as he approaches the source: a rundown tailor’s shop, its door and windows shuttered, its flickering LED sign the same as the one in the background of the text message’s image. They haven’t left.

Guan Shan steadies himself before pushing forward. They can’t possibly be inside the store so they must be behind it, hidden in the alleys, and he’s right. From around the corner, shadows formed by a streetlamp stretch into view. Guan Shan can see two figures though he knows there are likely more.

But he’s more concerned about the noise — or lack thereof. On the drive over, Guan Shan was expecting shouting, arguing, fighting. The image left no room for misunderstanding the situation at hand. But now, as he comes closer, Guan Shan can only hear chatter; casual and collected, completely undisturbed. He clenches his teeth and clears the final few meters.

The building prevents the streetlamp’s light from touching him, so the two nearest men don’t see him at first, their backs turned. But the third one, lounging against the wall with a dying cigarette between his fingers, does. He must be surprised by Guan Shan’s presence given that he doesn’t immediately react. The hesitation gives Guan Shan a few moments to evaluate exactly what he’s walked into: to determine what damage has been done and, more importantly, what portion of that damage can be reversed.

But it’s wishful thinking. Upon spotting the person on the ground crumpled into himself and the scattered drops of blood that look like oil in the darkness, Guan Shan gets a horrible, nauseous swelling in his stomach that is only deterred by the third man finally coming to his senses.

“Red?” he slurs. “What are you doing he—”

“What the fuck is going on?” Guan Shan demands. All eyes turn to him and, somehow, it makes him feel grounded, secure to the earth. He grits, furious, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The two men nearest to him trade a look. Then one of them drops their smoke, crushing it underfoot as they start, “Look, bud, we—”

“That’s a student, you dipshit!” Guan Shan snaps, pointing to the figure on the ground who, for reasons Guan Shan wants to ignore for as long as humanely fucking possible, cannot look away from Guan Shan now that he’s here. “He’s still in his uniform for fuck’s sake! How the fuck do you justify assaulting a student?"

Recognizing the escalation of the situation, the third man speaks up. “Your father is aware— This kid has had it coming for a long time now, and the little shit knows it—”

Guan Shan storms forward, over the blood and the broken glass, getting in his face. He can smell alcohol heavy like cologne on him. “Look at me. Look at me. Does it look like I actually give a shit what your excuse is?” he growls.

The man doesn’t respond, scowling against Guan Shan’s trembling anger. There’s a moment of silence during which they don’t break eye contact, and then one of the other men behind them shifts in his stance, exhaling.

“You ought to remember who the fuck you’re talking to, Red," he says, low. "I don’t give a shit who your daddy is. Watch your fuckin’ mouth and show some respect.”

Guan Shan likes to think that the man realizes his mistake just as quickly as Guan Shan does. Suddenly, it’s silent. Suddenly, all of the quivering anger traveling through his body like a live wire is gone, replaced with something much colder but much, much sharper, like a blade freshly honed and wielded. The man in front of him stays still as Guan Shan turns to face the other, deliberate and calculative.

“Yeah?” he says. There’s a pause. His target looks away, jaw stiff as he lifts his cigarette to his lips to take a pull. It’s only then that Guan Shan sees the dark purple bruise staining the side of his face. It’s fresh; swollen. Painful.

Guan Shan glances at the student and finds him still staring at him.

Idiot, Guan Shan thinks, looking away. Don’t you know not to fight back when you’re bound to lose?

“Get the fuck out of here,” Guan Shan tells the rest of them. “Now. And don’t worry — I’ll be sure to tell Qiu just how much I fucking respect you."

It takes a moment, but then the three men look at each other and come to a decision. They leave without another word, the only sound being the scuff of their shoes on the pavement and, later, car doors slamming and engines revving in the distance. Guan Shan stares into the dark until they can’t be heard anymore, overridden by the construction sites and the overpass.

Then, it’s just the two of them.

Whatever bravado Guan Shan held only moments ago has been lost. Now, there’s a rapid thudding in his chest and throat that is borderline painful. He doesn’t know what to do when the student — no, He Tian, because they can’t quite pretend they haven’t seen each other before, can they? — pulls himself into a sitting position against the wall, smearing blood from his nose on the back of his hand and rubbing the edge of his purple, swollen jaw with stained fingers and a repressed wince.

Guan Shan doesn’t look at him and that seems to be perfectly fine with He Tian. They stay in silence for a while, only broken by the occasional sniff from He Tian in an attempt to clear the blood. Eventually, Guan Shan just closes his eyes. His head and heart are racing so fast he can’t understand any of his thoughts clearly. All he can understand is the panic, the dread, the complete and utter exhaustion of coming to terms with what lies ahead.

He was so close to graduation. So painstakingly fucking close.

“Hey.”

Guan Shan opens his eyes. He Tian gives him a two-fingered salute from the ground.

“What?” Guan Shan blurts despite himself, incredulous.

He Tian’s head tilts. His voice is dry and croaked. “What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“I mean,” Guan Shan hisses, stepping forward, “what the fuck happened? What are you doing here?”

He Tian shrugs — then winces as it brings an obvious pain with it. Recovering, he says, “I could ask you the same.”

Guan Shan’s mouth snaps shut and he swallows dryly. Eventually he says, “Are you asking?”

“Should I be?”

Guan Shan’s gaze trails over his visible injuries: a potentially broken nose, perhaps a fractured jaw, a definite black eye. His school jacket is torn at the sleeve and there are small patches of blood soaking through his white t-shirt. God knows what damage he can’t see. “No,” he answers.

He Tian nods and crystal-like shards of glass fall from his hair and into his lap. It could be beautiful. “Then let's leave it at that. Give me a hand?”

He reaches out his hand presumably as far as he can without tempting pain, but Guan Shan doesn’t take it. The absurdity of it all seems to finally be catching up with him. He wonders if He Tian feels the same — as if piecing together a puzzle with no reference picture on the box. But even if he does, that doesn’t make Guan Shan feel better. Four school transfers and two different cities since junior high have built callouses on his ability to empathize. He’s long learned that people will sooner cover their own asses before looking out for someone else — especially him.

And of course, this time it has to be He Tian. He Tian. Top of the class, teachers’ pet, social fucking butterfly with a tempting grin and a sadistic streak often mistaken for boys being boys on the basketball courts after school, but Guan Shan knows better. He’s seen it before. He’s just never had a reason — or the interest — to poke the bear. But then again, he never thought he’d find the bear bloody and broken at his feet like this.

Is this reason enough, now?

“Did you fight back?”

The words spill out before he can stop them. He Tian considers him for a long moment before retracting his hand. He looks at the dark coloration of his knuckles that Guan Shan is staring at.

“Yeah,” he answers eventually. “I wasn’t going down without a fight.”

“Idiot,” Guan Shan breathes, throat tight. “You could’ve gotten off with a warning if you’d just — complied.”

He Tian laughs, but it’s broken and rattled and sounds like it hurts. “Thanks for the insight, but no, I really wouldn’t have.”

It sounds like acceptance; like a confession. It paralyzes Guan Shan. Looking down at He Tian’s bruised state is like watching venom take hold of prey’s body. Guan Shan just can’t be sure if it’s his prey or someone else’s.

He doesn’t know what to say so he chooses to say nothing. Instead he sinks to a knee, worrying his lip as he takes a closer look at He Tian’s injuries. Most are open wounds; they’re not life-threatening but are prone to infection if not treated soon. He’ll need some ice on that cheek and swollen wrist, and based on the awkward angle that he’s seated in, Guan Shan suspects bruised or fractured ribs. Remembering he forgot his wallet in his rush out of house, Guan Shan curses under his breath and considers the cash in the armrest of his mom’s car that he can use at the 24-hour convenience store a few blocks down to get gauze and disinfectant and—

“You don’t need to take care of me.”

Guan Shan’s anger returns, prickly. “I can’t just fucking leave you here like this, either.”

A huff. “That’s cute, but you—” He Tian winces. Breathes in, shakily. “You actually can.”

“I know you.”

“Do you?”

He Tian smiles sickly sweet and Guan Shan sees blood in his teeth. The nearest hospital, it should only be a few minutes drive—

“What the hell are you doing?” Guan Shan says as, suddenly, He Tian begins to pull himself to his feet. Every movement makes him shudder but he pushes through it, relying heavily on the wall. “What’re you doing? Stop, you idiot!”

“I’m leaving,” says He Tian, voice tight with pain and something else. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. Red, right?”

“I’m being fucking serious,” Guan Shan tells him sharply, hands hovering close but not knowing where or if he’s allowed to touch. “Stop moving. You’re gonna make it worse, and then what, genius?”

He Tian does stop then, but only momentarily. He fixes Guan Shan with a look that’s nothing short of a warning. Even hunched, he’s still an inch or two taller and Guan Shan gets the notion that He Tian still has some fight left in him. He has a sense of dignity but only as much as a wounded animal backed into a corner, teeth bared and pupils blown wide.

“I’m surprised,” He Tian breathes, “that you’re being so damn adamant right now. You hardly speak to anyone at school.”

‘How would you know?’ Guan Shan wants to shoot back at him, but sometimes a wounded animal can be more dangerous than a healthy one. This situation is a fight Guan Shan doesn’t think he should pick. Still:

“And your fucking fangirls will flip their shit if you show up on Monday looking like that,” Guan Shan snaps. “For a prospective valedictorian, you sure have a thick fucking skull.”

He Tian can’t seem to help laughing at that, the crusted blood at the corners of his mouth cracking. Even beaten, he acts like he’s done the beating. A forgotten, first-year rumor about a dispute involving him and She Li crosses Guan Shan’s mind, but he’d never had enough interest to verify it. It was much easier to take the information at face value and reduce them to just that: entertainment, however fleeting.

Eventually, though, He Tian’s laughter fades out. Guan Shan is too distracted by a fresh drop of blood falling off the edge of his nose to notice He Tian taking a step forward to leave — as if they’re done here. But Guan Shan quickly comes back to himself, sidestepping against the brick wall to block his path of escape.

He Tian’s gaze slides over to him slowly, a small fire lit in his eyes. His profile bleeds into the night’s darkness like it belongs there.

“You’re fucking serious right now?” he asks lowly.

“I’m fucking serious. Sit down. Now.”

He Tian shakes his head and scoffs, disbelieving. But against all odds, he turns and sinks back down the wall, hair mussing against the brickwork as he grunts with the effort. Something deflates inside Guan Shan and he follows him back to the ground, kneeling.

He Tian takes a moment to collect himself, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin while he rests the crown of his head against the wall, eyes closed. While he waits, Guan Shan says, “You need a hospital, but is there anyone you should, like, call? Where’s your phone?”

“They took it. Smashed it, actually, and then threw it onto the tracks. So.”

Guan Shan scowls. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He Tian’s eyes open. “What?”

“I said I’ll buy you a new one. And are you talking about the train tracks? Like, the metro?”

He Tian blinks once, twice, then nods. “Yeah, the metro. The station around the corner.”

Guan Shan considers the many things he could say right now. “But why did they—”

“Thought we agreed we wouldn’t be asking questions, Red.”

There’s a danger there but Guan Shan can’t help himself, snapping, “Don’t call me that.”

This seems to intrigue He Tian. “I suppose I can’t ask why?” he ventures, snarky.

“No,” Guan Shan bites back, “you can’t.”

He Tian watches as Guan Shan slips out his own phone, pulling up Qiu’s business number since his personal phone is currently in Guan Shan’s possession. The line only rings twice before it’s answered.

“Qiu? Yeah, I need— Fuck, I know it’s late, okay? But I need you to come pick me up. Yes, right now. I don’t really have an address so I’ll send you my location; I’m like ten minutes from the house. And bring first aid, whatever you have. It’s—”

Guan Shan looks at He Tian. He’s quietly watching, wearing a ghost of a smile that he doesn’t bother to hide. Guan Shan looks away, suddenly finding all of this to be very comical because whatever they’ve gotten themselves into, neither of them know how to handle it. That much is crystal fucking clear.

Guan Shan exhales. “It’s urgent.”

[canongf]

my first actual acting class is in a week and i'm so exciteeed :)

[clockwayswrites]

Bitty birb in the nest is worth...? Part 19

Masterpost This is going to have many typos and spelling issues, but it currently feels like I've got an ice pick in my temple and my skin hurts so there's no rereading happening atm. Sorry!

-

Danny looked up as Tim Drake-Wayne strode into the lab and closed the door quietly behind himself.

“Tim?”

“Mm-hum?” Tim hummed as he sat down his thermos before he shed his messenger bag, coat, and school jacket onto an open part of desk.

Danny watched on with bemusement. The kid looked half asleep. “Not that it isn’t great to see you again, but what are you doing here, honey?”

“Bruce is on a call running Luthor in circles and then has to talk to legal about some stuff because Luthor is always an ass. We’re supposed to go run an errand and then to dinner together, so I’m stuck here until he’s ready to leave for the day.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said honestly.

“It’s okay, at least Bruce won’t forget, not like—” Tim shut his mouth with a snap, seemingly suddenly thinking about what he was saying.

“It’s okay, I get it,” Danny said, because he did. “You need somewhere to hide out then?”

“Yeah, it’s… calm here.”

“Okay. Sit wherever you want that’s clear. If you need to move something, let me know first, okay?”

“Thanks,” Tim said, shoulders finally losing some of their tension.

“Of course, whenever you need.”

Not wanting to push Tim in any way, Danny kept a subtle eye on the boy as Tim absently wandered around Danny’s office. To Tim’s credit, he did try to touch anything or move things around, even as he obviously grew increasingly tired.

It would be a lot, Danny supposed, to be a teen ager trying to live up to the legacy of two important families in the area, learn the business, go to school, and (hopefully) also spend time with friends. Danny knew how hard it had been only having Phantom as an obligation.

While, sure, Danny wished Tim had made chosen a less neck cramping spot, he was happy to see Tim finally settle down and seemingly fall asleep… under one of Danny’s work benches. Danny couldn’t fuss too much, he’d done that plenty in grad school himself. Once Tim seemed properly asleep, Danny got up to fetch his cardigan from the hook by the door and took it to drape over the sleeping kid. Tim let a little huffed breath of air before he snuggled further into the cardigan and settled back into sleep.

It made Danny’s heart melt in a way that he didn’t want to think too hard about.

It really was no surprise when about forty-five minutes later one Bruce Wayne poked his head into Danny’s office. The door was hardly open when Danny had his finger up and over his mouth in the universal sign of ‘shush’.

Bruce titled his head curiously. Danny gave a little nod of his head towards the workbench that Tim was sleeping under. Silently, Bruce moved to the work bench and crouched down next to it. There was a soft, amused sound before Bruce reached out to brush his hand over Tim’s forehead, as if habitually checking for a fever.

When Bruce returned to where Danny was working, he asked softly, “How long has he been asleep?”

“A little over a half hour. It took him about ten minutes to settle in,” Danny answered, voice equally quiet.

“Then do you mind if I let him keep resting for another fifteen minutes or so? He’s likely to wake up on his own then.”

Danny shook his head. “Nope, let the kid rest. He seems like he needs it.”

Bruce glanced at Tim, his expression that soft sort of worried only parents seemed to get. “He does. He works too hard at… everything. He’s always trying to prove himself even when he doesn’t need to anymore.”

Danny made a little questioning noise as he got back to fiddling with the annoyingly tiny screws.

“His parents were… demanding. They had very exacting ideas of what proper high society behavior was,” Bruce explained. “I’m sadly not the best suited at dismantling those ideas either.”

“Ah… well, what do you do that encourages him to be a kid?” Danny asked.

“He skateboards, actually. And he enjoys photography, but even that became a goal what with art competitions at school.”

“Maybe take him and Damian on a mini art vacation? Somewhere pretty. Somewhere where it’s not about judges,” Danny suggested. He finally got the last screw seated so he glanced up at Bruce’s thoughtful face.

“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said. “I’ll start looking at what might work. Thank you.”

“Sure, ideas are kinda what I do,” Danny said and motioned to the office around him with the screwdriver.

Bruce’s answering chuckle was low and warm. “I suppose it is. I hope you’re also not overworking yourself.”

“I’m doing much better,” Danny assured Bruce. “I just needed some rest.”

“Which my children made sure you got. I’m still sorry that they kept you so long on Friday.”

It was Danny’s turn to laugh. “Honestly, I don’t think you really have much control over what they do.”

“No, I really don’t,” Bruce admitted. “But I wouldn’t have them any other way.”

“That’s good; they’re a pretty amazing family,” Danny said with a soft smile. “And if I don’t get to be sorry about falling asleep, you don’t get to be sorry about making me rest.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but deal.”

“I am a master business man,” Danny teased and ducked his head to hide his smile.

“I’ll have to watch for corporate take overs. Keep an eye on the stocks and papers.”

“Maybe. Oh, speaking of… Well, not speaking of but sort of related? You know, I was joking about us making the papers.”

Bruce hummed curiously so Danny set aside his tools to pull up the story that several coworkers had sent him on his table. He spun it to face Bruce. The picture of them in the box was big on the screen. They were pressed almost chest to chest with Bruce’s arms around Danny. It certainly looked incriminating.

“Well shit,” Bruce said with a sigh. He picked up the tablet to scan through the article. There wasn’t anything in it, of course, just wild speculation. “I hope you haven’t been harassed about this by anyone.”

“I don’t think anyone knows who I am to harass me,” Danny said honestly. “Some coworkers have sent me it, but apparently it’s just my luck to have both randomly run into a Wayne and be invited to an event and have one of my ‘spells’ when I’m around them.”

Bruce looked at him with one well manicured brow raised. “You have interesting luck.”

“Yep. It’s been quite a life so far. I was pretty much born into interesting luck and life has really lived up to that luck and died by it,” Danny said with a little chuckle as he took his tablet back.

“I feel concerned by that last part.”

Danny hummed in question, distracted by pulling his notes back up.

“The having died by the luck part.”

“Oh.” Danny smiled, but he knew that expression was less than a happy one. “I think I mentioned that there was an accident when I was a kid?”

Bruce nodded and lean his elbows on the work bench and crosses his arms. “You did. One that is apparently still affecting your pulse to this day.”

“Yes, well,” Danny glanced away from Bruce. Why was it still so hard to talk about. “When I was fourteen, I was electrocuted at at an… industrial level of voltage. Unsurprisingly it killed me. And hey, obviously I came back! But that sort of thing sticks around.”

“I’m sorry.”

Danny looked back at Bruce, honestly startled. In all this time, Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard a ‘I’m sorry’ about his accident, not without strings attached. His lips quirked into a smile again. This one felt more pleasant. “Thanks. Trust me though, I’m grateful that life has, had been calmer.”

Whatever Bruce was going to say to that was cut off by a loud yawn, the sound of someone shifting around, and then the unmistakable bang of a limb against the metal legs of one of the workbenches.

Quiet cussing followed a moment later.

“You okay there, Tim?” Danny asked.

“Fine,” Tim hissed back.

“I’m sure I have an instant icepack in my office. We can grab one before we leave,” Bruce said.

“B?” Tim asked, voice noticeably brighter. A moment later he appeared out from under the desk.

“Hi, sweetheart, sorry that I had to take that call,” Bruce said as he stepped over to Tim. He reached out to brush the teen’s hair a little straighter.

“It’s fine, it’s Lex, I get it.”

“I know you get it, but that doesn’t mean it has to be fine.”

Tim just shrugged. The action made him notice the the cardigan draped over his shoulders. A little blush rose on his cheeks as he took it off and handed it back to Danny. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for Tim, you weren’t any problem,” Danny assured him. “You’re welcome in my office whenever.”

“You’re going to regret that,” Tim said.

Danny just shrugged with a smile.

“Come on, chum, let’s go find that icepack. We’ll still get to your store before it closes,” Bruce said and started to guide Tim out by the shoulder.

Bruce glanced behind him and Danny gave a little wave to the retreating Waynes.

His luck indeed.

-

“What happened in Danny’s office that’s bothering you?” Tim asked. He had the icepack pressed against his elbow and was sitting almost sideways so that he could take in all of Bruce’s expression.

Bruce was doing that thing where he was feeling big, complicated emotions and wishing he wasn’t. Tim could read it in the way that Bruce’s shoulders were set, that little bit of tightening under his eyes, and the way he was very purposefully not frowning.

“B,” Tim pressed.

Bruce sighed, the sound all of his air. “I think we should leave Danny alone, both as Waynes and as Bats.”

Tim jolted and scrambled to sit up further. “Wait, what? Bruce, what happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Bruce assured Tim. “Nothing bad happened. Vicky got a picture of Danny and I at the ballet. We spoke some about it and Danny talked about how he had interesting luck. He said he was grateful that life has been calmer; he had to change that to had.”

“…oh.”

“It’s just that—”

“No, you’re right. I’ll try to talk to the others about it because you know they won’t listen to you about it.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“It’s fine, I get it.”

[hello-eden]

Unexpected Hope

Damian has been disoriented all week. When he was told that stopping the ritual would have repercussions, he did not expect this. He had been dealing with the memories on his own but unfortunately he could not postpone this gala. 

He had been stopping a ritual that would end up summoning the being he now knows as Undergrowth. Damien does not regret that choice especially now that he has the context. Unfortunately it brought back his memories of Phantom.

He didn't quite understand they were memories for quite a while honestly he was a little bit concerned he got possessed. Thankfully after some compartmentalizing and a little bit of isolation, he figured out what was wrong. It did not help the confusion that comes with being a Midwestern teen and an assassin child put into one body but he has gotten the hang of it. 

Unfortunately Damian did not get long before he was forced back into the presence of his family. he had put off many public family events in the last few months so he was not able to get out of this event. he probably could have faked being sick but he'd much prefer to be able to pass off any of his symptoms from the memories as uncomfortableness being around strangers then be alone with his family. 

He's honestly very happy with his choice after he sees her. He doesn't recognize her at first with the dark auburn braided hair and the dress being something other than black but something made him turn around when he heard her rant.

She was giving a humanitarian speech to one of the investors. At first he got closer just to hear about it. It's always funny to see the faces of the imbeciles when people don't bow to their wishes.

Damien thought he finally found someone who was not a gold digger or a social climber. What made him really stop in his tracks was her body language. It was like a neon flashing sign opened up and said ‘hey this is Sam Mason’. 

Damien walked over with hope in his chest that he was not alone. she eventually seemed to get tired of the man or maybe he was able to scramble an excuse and walk away. he couldn't quite hear but by the time he walked over there it was only her.

 “you seem to be quite passionate,” Damian says, trying to start a conversation and figuring out how to ask the hard question.

 What is he exactly supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you my best friend for my last life or hey do you remember being on my ghost hero vigilante team that ended up with all of us being Undead royalty.’

The girl looks him over, probably trying to figure out what he wants. 

“Are you here to argue?” She says angrily, obviously ready for another fight.

“Your speech reminds me of someone, have you ever heard of Samantha Mason” Damien says trying to be nonchalant.

Her eyes seem to widen and look him over again.

“Where'd you hear that name.” She ordered.

“I've heard enough of her rants to be able to pick it out from a crowd.”

 “Danny,”  She said softly her grabbing his hands and squeezing as she looked around to make sure no one saw. “what how I thought it was the only one” Hope seemed to be filling her eyes. 

“Hi Sam” Damien Whispers just as softly just as glad he is not alone. 

Without another word Sam drags them to the stairway rushing up to the floor upstairs and trying to find a room that isn't being used. She eventually finds one two floors above the room they were using for the gala and pushes him into what looks like a break room.

 “How the hell did you get your memories” Sam demands 

“Why are you yelling at me? You have your memories too obviously if you are recognizing your name” Damian says shouting back at her. 

Sam always has a way of catching him off guard. She was happy just a minute ago. 

“yeah well I did something stupid which means I know you did something stupid” Sam said pointing her finger at him.

“ Well I may have accidentally stumbled upon a ritual for summoning an ancient and when I stopped it the backlash gave me my memories back. ” Damien stumbled over their words trying to justify themselves. "What stupid thing did you do?”

“The girls in my stupid Prep School in my grade went through a very witchy phase. there was a slumber party and they were stupid enough to actually find real magic. I had a cut on my hand earlier in the day and try to freak them out by adding a little bit of my blood. apparently my protection spell is literally stuck into my soul, so things went down” Sam says just as hesitantly as Damien

 “you have zero leg to stand on okay fine we were both stupid” 

They both sat there in silence for a while, mostly just basking in each other's presents realizing they weren't alone anymore.

“it's good to have you back," Damian says, giving her a weak smile and running his hands through his hair.

He'd been trained out of all of his nervous ticks but it probably makes her more comfortable to see him just as nervous as she is.

“it's good to see you too da- do you have the same name?” both of them don't seem to realize at the same time that they didn't get each other's names. 

“Damien” he says as he pulls his hand out of his hair and puts his hand out for a handshake. 

“Sarah” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a shake.

the two of them shake their hand for a moment before they look at each other's eyes and burst out giggling. 

Damien's really glad he decided to not pretend to be sick.

[writingouthere]

bestfriendsbrother!Sukuna x pregnant!reader one-shot

summary: you're excited to finally share with all your friends that your pregnant when the party is interrupted by your best friend's older brother, who you didn't invite, but who you did have unprotected sex with less than two months ago.

cw: reader is pregnant, Sukuna is a bad dude, possessive behavior, minor smut, still as usual nicer than it sounds because I can't help it.

**************

"I'm pregnant!"

Your news is met with a period of silence before your friends look at each other, uncertain as to how to react.

Nobara finally breaks the silence, an eyebrow raised. "And we feel...."

"We're happy about it," you say and your friends are then quick to congratulate you. You hear some sort of scuffling happening behind you and you turn around to see Yuuji unfolding a "We're having a Baby!" banner which makes Megumi nearly jump out of his chair.

"Holy shit, did you two-"

"No!"

"Ew, no!"

Yuuji frowns at you. "The 'ew' wasn't necessary."

You and Nobara scoff. "It was," you tell him. "And I say that with all my love."

"Okay, so if this idiot didn't knock you up-"

"Hey!"

"-then who did?"

You'd been expecting the question and had prepared for it. "It was just a one night stand, he's not really father material." Everyone looks like they want to ask more questions so you smile at them, genuinely happy they all look ready to commit a crime for you. "It's okay, I have a good job and this is something I've wanted for a long time. This baby will be really loved because it will have me and, I hope, all of you."

Your friends are quick to agree and there's some lighter questions about potential names, nurseries and Nobara and Todo are looking at her phone debating baby onesies, when the door to you and Yuuji's apartment opens and someone you had definitely not invited comes in.

"Sukuna! You're late, you missed the big news," Yuuji calls out as he walks over and claps his brother on the back. A few people call out greetings as Yuuji's older brother looks around the apartment. His eyes linger on you for a second, a smirk tugging up on his lip before he notices the sign hanging crooked over the kitchen doorway and he laughs without an ounce of humor.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me, you knocked someone up? You irresponsible piece of shit-"

"It's not his and don't kill him, you asshole," Megumi says from where he has now joined the onesies discussion and points over at you. "It's the other person who lives here."

Sukuna pauses from where he was about to murder his brother, to look back over at you. You wonder if his brain is doing the same cursed math that you had done when you were hyperventilating, holding a stick covered in your own pee, but before he could ask anything, Maki ended the silent stand off.

"And we're happy about it, so get happy you piece of shit."

With that, the party continues on, people breaking off until little groups and snacks being placed strategically throughout the apartment.

You're feeling thirsty, and a little exhausted from the burning stare that's been directed at you for the past hour when you excuse yourself from where Miwa and Mechamaru had been talking about their own future plans for children, who you're sure would be socially inept but gorgeous enough to make up for it, and made your way to the kitchen.

You were pulling out some water, no alcohol for you even though you really needed it, when you felt someone's presence behind you.

"So when were you going to tell me we were having a baby?"

"Never, because it's not yours," you answered firmly, slamming the door to the fridge for good measure. Sukuna leaned against the cabinet next to you but you'd known him long enough to see the pose for what it was. A ruse, a performance of casualness. The fingers on his hand tapped against his arm like he was playing the piano, one of the few tics he had that showed when he was feeling, well just feeling anything in general.

"Oh please, you're not fucking anyone else."

"You don't know that and we're not fucking, we fucked once. Singular, past tense."

He laughed and looked down at you, the same predatory look he'd had the night he'd helped you make this child.

"And once was all it took huh? Fucked you so good, you're going to have my baby," he says, voice mocking and he stands up to his full height which puts him over you. He takes the glass of water you're really regretting now, and places it on the counter opposite the two of you.

"It-it's not your baby," but you don't sound sure and he knows it and he presses up against you until your back is to the counter. Nowhere for you to run.

"It's mine, just like you're mine. I don't know who you think you're kidding with this denial of me but it's done now, sweetheart."

You go to answer him and Sukuna covers your mouth with his hand like the rude fuck he is and then leans down, his mouth next to your ear. You look around, worried someone might see you but the gap between the fridge and the counter conceals you both and the room next to you keeps getting louder and louder. The sun had set and there were maybe some lamps in the living room, but here in the kitchen it was dark.

"I let you have your space and your time, two months of it actually. I let you have your little moral crisis about fucking a criminal and it being the best dick you've ever had wah wah, but I was impatient before I knew you were having my baby, and now," he leans back so his eyes, and they're on fire his eyes, are level with yours. "I'm done waiting."

You tug on Sukuna's hand and he rolls his eyes before removing it from your mouth and places it on your hip which doesn't seem like a good trade-off but at least you can speak again.

"What does that even mean?" You ask him, your voice showing the incredulity you're feeling but if Sukuna had anything, it was audacity.

"I mean I'll give you a week to tell your friends you're having our baby and that we're getting married." He says it so seriously that you can't help but laugh which seems to be the wrong response when his other hand moves to your hip as well and squeezes, tight.

"We are not getting married, are you out of your mind?"

"Why not, we're already having a baby, are you going to deny me the ability to live with my own child."

"Still not your kid, and we can't get married Sukuna. We never even dated! We fucked one time, that doesn't mean we should just be together forever."

"We fucked for one night, it was more than one time-"

"Not the argument you think it is," you interrupt him but you still let him pick you up and place you on the counter. You sit there while he runs his hands up and down your thighs, the sounds of the party washing over the two of you as you stay in your little bubble.

"We'd be good together," he finally says. "Not just because I knocked you up on the first try." You hit him but he just smirks and moves his hands more purposefully on your legs. You let him pull them apart and step between them even though warning bells are going off in your head, telling you these are moves you'd seen before and they had led to you being in the predicament the two of you were debating in the first place.

"It's inevitable, the two of us. You can say you hate me, or that I'm not a good man, and that's true. But there's a reason why you've never stayed with any of those nice boys," he says and his hands slips up the skirt you're wearing to get at your bare thighs underneath. "Because you don't want a nice guy, you don't want a good man, you want me and I'm too selfish to let you keep torturing both of us by doing this pretending shit."

The fingers on his right hand press against your cunt through your panties while his other hand squeezes your thigh and he moans sinfully into the quiet air.

"God, I knew I didn't make up this warm, wet cunt. Been fucking my fist until I chafed the past two months just thinking about it."

You whimper as he moves your underwear aside and slips one finger up and down your slit, not touching your clit or going where you want him, but doing enough that you move against his hand.

"This does not mean that we should get married," you protest and he teases a finger against your opening, pulling it back when your hips tilt up in an attempt to get him where you want.

"Why not? I heard pregnant women get super horny, what are you going to do without me around to make sure this filthy pussy gets stuffed just the way she needs." He finally slips one finger in, his thumb moving to tease against your clit, just the way you like it and your head smacks back against the cabinet. He moves the hand that had been on your thigh up so he can cradle your head.

"I'm sure I could find someone willing to help me out," you say scoffing and his hand freezes which makes you whine a little and try to get him to move again but his legs limit your range of motion.

"You ever try to fuck someone else ever again and the coroner is going to have to get dental records to figure out who the dumb fuck with no fingers, no eyes and no cock is, you got it?"

He's not joking, you know he's not joking but it doesn't stop you from leaning forward until you finally get your lips on his. He hums into your kiss, cupping your cheek in his free hand while the other one goes back to opening you up. You're so wet that the kitchen fills with the sounds of his him finger fucking your cunt but you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. He's not wrong that pregnancy has made you more sensitive, or maybe it's just you not having gotten laid since the two of you had slept together.

He's got three fingers in you when you come and he swallows your moans greedily with mouth while his fingers slow inside of you, curving just right to make you think you could probably come again soon, oversensitive or not.

Before you can test that out, he pulls away from you. He licks the fingers he pulled out of you clean and you you're reminded of how the last time he'd made you come twice just with his mouth.

"Where are you going?" you ask him, a little more breathless than you like.

"We are going home," he tells you, grabbing your hands and helping you down off the counter. Giving you a kiss on your forehead that you would tease him for if you were anyone else.

"Home?" you ask, confused because you are currently standing in your apartment unless his orgasms suddenly give one the power to teleport.

"Yeah, our home, not the shitty apartment you share with my brother. I mean we'll have to get somewhere bigger soon, for our baby."

For the first time since you found out you were pregnant, someone who was not you laid out their palm on your still just the same stomach. There was no change from how it always looked but Sukuna looked smug just the same and you felt like you were still missing a few things.

"What-"

"I mean I can fuck you here, I just thought your sensibilities and the fact your friends were all out there would make you uncomfortable."

Your post orgasm flush finally leaves you and you look up at him in panic. "Oh my god, do you think someone saw-"

"It's okay, Fushiguro kept them out I'm sure."

You don't want to know but ask anyway. "Why?"

"Because he walked in earlier and looked like he'd seen a ghost. Tell me, is the kid still a virgin? He's pretty but I can't imagine he has a lot of good options in your crowd."

When you leave to go to Sukuna's, the only people who don't look confused(or horrified in Yuuji's case) at your departure are Maki and Megumi.

If the confusion hadn't been cleared up by the time the baby came, the pink hair probably answered any follow up questions.

dealing with some writer's block and had this idea. didn't feel like writing a whole smut scene, my b but saving that energy for the next(?) neighborsukuna x singlemom one.

side note: Megumi is scarred for life, for sure. Yuuji gets over his horror once he's an uncle.

[bluemoon-fever]

needy

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

summary: steve rogers is a very needy man.

word count: 2.45k

warnings: fluff, smut, dub-con (reader is tipsy, but not drunk), unprotected sex, possessive steve, allusions to DD/lg (but not really), D/s undertones, daddy kink, soft!dom!steve, begging, hand job, oral (male and female receiving), rough sex, fingering, light choking, spitting, dacryphilia, praise kink, grinding, mention of safe words, nipple/breast play, cum play, creampie, aftercare, it's filth, but it's also fluffy MINORS DNI

a/n: so i've been having this in my head for over a week, and i'm excited to finally share. i also have something else planned with steve (maybe a mini series or something. i'm still planning). while all can read, i do write with black/poc readers in mind! i hope you all enjoy! Reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated! <3

not edited.

DO NOT COPY OR STEAL THIS POST. I do not give permission for my work to be posted on another site.

A symphony of giggles and clumsy steps lets Steve know that you’ve just arrived home. He’s at his desk, working on a new art piece. It’s a drawing of you sleeping soundly in your shared bed based on an image he snapped a few days ago. He goes to hide the drawing, wanting it to be a surprise for you when he’s done.

He hears you fumble with your phone and tell your friend through a fit of giggles that you made it home safe. Then, Steve hears the sound of you taking off your heels and walking into the kitchen. He sighs, waiting for you to finally finish up whatever you were doing and come back to him. It had been about three hours since he last saw you, and he had missed you.

On his days off, Steve cherishes your time together. It’s very rare that he gets days to be home, draw, and just relax, but when you told him you had plans to go to brunch with your friends, his mood soured a bit. He didn’t want to keep you from his friends, but he was feeling very selfish over you. He wanted you all to himself. This morning, he tried to convince you to stay in bed, but after about an extra 15 minutes of cuddles, you told him you had to get ready. He threw a pout at you that made you giggle, and you kissed his cheek all sweet before you got up to get ready. He watched as you got dressed and put makeup on which he constantly told you, “You don’t need it.”

“Thanks, babe, but I just wanted to be dolled up. It’s been forever since I’ve gone out.” Steve winces at your words. He had just gotten off a long mission, and since he had been back, he had been more focused on relaxing than taking you out on dates. Even though you never complained about it, he knew you were in need of a fun outing. That’s why he couldn’t be too mad that you were so quick to agree to brunch with your best friends. You knew he wasn’t in the mood to be out and about, and he didn’t want you to sacrifice your need for socialization just for him.

Well, he did, but he would never ask you to do that. Not when you’re his perfectly sweet, beautiful girlfriend.

Steve volunteered to drive you to brunch, but you said you already agreed to a carpool. When he volunteered to bring you back home, you shot that down (unintentionally). One of your friends agreed to be the designated driver. Steve held in a grunt, but his frustration dissipated slightly when you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and lips. “I love you! I’ll be back before you know it.”

And here you were, but what was taking you so damn long?

Steve was about to rise until he heard you slightly stumble towards the room. Your cheeks were flushed red, a sign of the bottomless mimosas he knows you downed at brunch. Your lipstick was long gone, leaving a slight pink tint on your lips. The rest of your makeup looked fine, and you were actually glowing. Your outfit, a black mid-length, bodycon dress, clung to your curves perfectly. Steve felt his dick start to stir. 

God, he wanted needed you so bad.

“Hi, baby,” you said. You held a bottle of water in your hand and took a sip as you walked in the room. You weren’t drunk, but he could tell you were tipsy. You threw a playful smirk as you sauntered towards him. “I missed you.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t want to give into your sweetness. While he had missed you and missed your body, he wanted you just as needy as he was. He wanted you to need him so bad you were begging for it. While his exterior remained stoic, something feral bloomed inside of him that he had to stifle his own smirk.

You moved directly in front of him and leaned down to give him a kiss. When you didn’t feel him return it, your face flashed concern. Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you? You began to feel nervous under his gaze. Rather than say anything, you moved to straddle him and began to burrow into his lap. You faced him directly and wrapped your arms around his neck. When his expression didn’t budge, you buried your face into his neck and inhaled his scent.

God, you needed him so bad.

As you shrunk yourself in his lap, Steve gave a small smile. Seeing you become so little was making him harder. He knew after one drink that you were affectionate and needy. At events, you’d seek him out, attaching yourself to his side or finding some way to touch him. He had you right where he wanted you. You had mumbled something into his neck that took him from his own thoughts.

“What was that?” he asked, keeping his voice firm.

“How was your day?” you said softly, almost at a whisper. You turned your face and looked up into his sparkling blue eyes. You were so damn sweet he felt he was getting a cavity. “Are you enjoying being off?”

“It was fine,” he said, telling the truth. It was just fine. If you were with him all day, laying naked next to him, it would have been everything he needed. But seeing you concerned about him, being so sweet and kind, made him want to just pick you up and make sweet love to you in his bed. But a strong part of him didn’t want that; he wanted to ruin you and make you more pliant. “How was brunch?”

“It was nice,” you began, playing with the hairs in his beard. “But I really missed you, Daddy.” 

Fuck, he thought. Here you were, his perfect girl, wrapped up perfectly in his lap and pliant. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He gripped your face in his large hands and began to kiss you passionately. You didn’t even try to keep up, letting him push his tongue past your lips and claim your mouth. You began to whine, and Steve felt you begin to grind against his hard-on. He shifted his hands to your neck and pulled you back.

“If you missed me so much, baby girl, then show me.” Your eyes were blown wide with lust. Your lips swollen and pink. You nodded and began to pull his dick out of his sweatpants. You began stroking him, creating a steady rhythm that made Steve catch his breath. “Fuck angel.”

You shifted off his lap and moved his rolling chair back. You settled yourself between his legs. You began giving kitten licks to the tip of his cock before staring up at him with the kindest eyes; Steve had to fight the urge to blow a load on your face. You teased him a bit more with the licks before swallowing his own length down. Steve gripped the back of your head, pushing his length further down your throat. You struggled to take all of him, and the sensation of it made him pulse a bit down your throat. He pulled you off of him and took in your state. Your eyes began watering, your mascara starting to smudge under your eyes. Your mouth was wet with saliva. Steve wishes he could take a picture of you, seeing you ruined made further awakened a beast within him.

You reached for his cock, moving your mouth back on him. He watched in amazement as you tried to deep throat him on your own. You began looking up at him, your eyes looking as big as possible. How you managed to make yourself still look innocent while sucking his dick was something.

“Look at my pretty girl, sucking her Daddy’s cock. You’re doing so good.” You keened over his praise. He watched as you attempted to move your hand under your dress to gain some relief, but he grabbed both of your hands and held them above you. He removed your mouth off of him as gently as he could. You stared up at him waiting for his next words.

“Get on the bed.” He let your hands go and watched as you moved quickly to kneel on the bed. Steve didn’t even bother making it, leaving your bed sheets at the foot of your mattress. You placed your hands in your lap. He got up and cupped your face in his hand. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before his hand moved to pull the thin strap of your dress down. “How are we feeling?”

“Green,” you told him. You gave a small smile. “I need you.”

“I know. Be patient, baby.” If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black…

He pushed your shoulders back as a sign for you to lay back on the bed. He moved to pull your dress off, you lifting your hips to help him. You were left in just a lacy pink thong and strapless bra. You moved to pull the bra off and placed it on the floor next to your bed. You grabbed his hand and placed it on his chest. You were so desperate for some sort of relief.

Steve began massaging your breast, his fingers pulling at your nipple. You let out a breathy moan from the sensation, happy to finally feel something. Steve’s eyes darkened when he saw your hand slip inside your panties, and you began to play with yourself.

“How bad do you need me? How bad do you need your Daddy?” he asked, almost mockingly.

“I need you s-so bad,” you cried out. “I’ve missed you so much. Thought about you the whole time at brunch. Please, I need you.”

Steve removed his hands, causing you to whine. When you looked up at him, you saw him frantically stripping out of his sweatpants and white tank top. He didn’t even bother with underwear, secretly praying that you came home exactly like this, and he would have easy access.

His mouth began an assault on your neck. He pulled your hand out and roughly pulled your panties down, flinging them somewhere in the room. He kissed down your body, spending precious time kneading and kissing on your breasts before he found himself in between your legs. Without asking, you opened yourself up to him. “Please, please, please,” you whined.

Steve dove in, essentially making out with your pussy. You cried out, and he placed his left hand on your stomach to hold you down. His other hand began to push into your core, finding that spongy spot that instantly had your hips bucking. He looked up at you through his thick lashes, watching your face contort into pure ecstasy. He found your bundle of nerves and began to suck while continuing to play with you like you were his favorite instrument (you were). You immediately began singing out, a sign you were close. It was music to Steve’s ears, your incoherent cries.

Steve lifted up, removed his fingers from your core, and watched as your face fell in betrayal. “If you’re going to come, it’s going to be on my dick,” he spat at you. “Open.”

You opened your mouth, and Steve spit down your throat. He captured into another filthy kiss, you grabbing onto his back to pull you into him, trying to become one. He lined up himself at your entrance before pressing in quickly, filling you up quickly. You broke the kiss to moan, tears spilling from your eyes from the pressure. Steve felt himself grow harder as he began to lick at your tears. You felt so defiled, so nasty, and you couldn’t get enough. You began scratching at his back, desperate for him to move, for him to finally let you come.

“D-daddy, please. Please move. Please!” you begged. “Please, I need it. I need to cum. Please let me cum!” Tears began to spill from your eyes. Your face was so utterly fucked out that Steve could have came right then in there. But you were giving him everything he wanted, and now, he finally could oblige.

He began roughly fucking into you, pulling your legs into his arm to change his angle. Your back arched off the bed, and your moans grew louder. Normally, Steve would cover your mouth, not wanting to face your neighbors after this, but he didn’t care. He wanted the whole world to hear him fucking his perfect, sweet girlfriend on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. You grabbed at your breast and Steve brought his face down to one, popping one of your hard nipples into his mouth. You clenched harder around him.

“Steve, I’m s-so close. May I cum? Please, may I cum?” you asked so nicely. 

“Yes.” You came with a cry, your body shaking as Steve continued to fuck into you. Seeing you fall apart gave him a second wind and he kept fucking into you. You fell into a second orgasm, your eyes beginning to close in exhaustion, but Steve didn’t relent. He pulled out and turned you on your side like a ragdoll as you laid limp on the bed. He immediately rutted back into you, his pace relentless. His release was building up. “Come on, baby. Come with Daddy. Just give me one more.”

Steve came with a roar. He looked down at your coated juices on his dick and fucked it back into you. He couldn’t wait to see himself leaking out of you. Honestly, if you gave him a minute, he could go again and have you filled with him for days. The idea of you filled with him, possibly making his child made him cumming again.

He collapsed on top of you, softly kissing your face. You started giggling before turning and grabbing his face in your hand. You captured his lips in a long, soft kiss. You whined as he pulled out of you, and Steve shifted next to you. Looking down at your legs, his eyes darkened seeing his spend leak out of you. He gathered it and pushed it back inside of you. You winced at how sensitive you were, but Steve knew you loved when he’d play with your mixed releases. 

Steve rose and grabbed your water bottle, making you drink a considerable amount before placing it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. He lifted you up and placed both of you under the covers of your shared bed. He pulled you into his chest as you lazily rubbed circles into his chest and him on your shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered before softly kissing at his chest and closing your eyes.

“I love you too.” Steve was happy. His perfect girl was finally in his arms, just like he needed.

[tacticaldiary]

A Fighting Chance

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

Part 2, Masterlist,

"What're those?"

"Papers."

Ghost pauses halfway through opening the document, glancing up at the curtness of her voice. "Papers? She doesn't meet his eyes, gaze fixed on the table of the little booth they're sitting in.

The ice in her drink is long gone, watering down her coffee into something that tastes as bitter as her heart.

It had taken months for her to finally make this decision. Days of talking with her lawyer, crying alone at night and coming to the gruelling acceptance that this was for the best. It was best for both of them.

There's not many things that unsettle Simon. He's had blood stain his hands; his own, his comrades, and his enemies. Had almost any injury you could think of marring his skin, been prodded and ripped into, been the one on the opposite end of the knife.

But as he slides out the documents, turns them over, Simon's never felt more apprehensive.

He stills, reading the first few lines, clenching his jaw. "What is this?"

"I want a divorce."

And something in him crumbles at her defeated tone. Like she's already decided. Like he doesn't even have a chance to ask why or talk it through.

"No." He says tightly, putting them down and crossing his arms.

Her gaze shoots to his. "You can't just say that."

"I did. I won't sign them."

"I want this." She argues, and Simon swallows back the lump in his throat at how utterly tired she looks.

"I don't."

She's the light of his life, the one good, untouched piece of joy he gets to see. Something other than the bloodshed and violence he lives in.

"Simon," She says, shoulders sagging forward. "I can't do this anymore."

"This isn't the solution, love." He feels like his skin is crawling, the beginnings of unfamiliar panic clawing at his chest when she doesn't react to the pet name.

Doesn't smile, doesn't flush that beautiful red, doesn't squirm.

When she doesn't respond again, tight-lipped and clammed up and so determined to not look at him, he asks the question burning a hole through his tongue.

"Why?"

Deep down he knows. Knew this was coming but that part of him is buried under the thudding of his heart, and the rush of blood in his ears. Everything feels deathly still and moving too fast at the same time.

"Why?" She repeats, something in her stirring at the question. Her brow furrows and she switches from a cautious indifference to disbelief and frustration quicker than Simon can process. "Are you serious?" She huffs out an incredulous laugh. "You're away for months at a time and I'm supposed to what? Wait for you at our doorstep and wag my tail all happy when you finally come back to me?" Her grip tightens on her drink.

"Even when you are home, it's never about us. Never about me and you. You lock yourself in your study with your work, don't talk to me unless you come out for dinner or lunch. When was the last time we went out?" She demands. "When was the last time we went on a date? The last time we slept at the same time in the same bed?"

Simon clenches his jaw but says nothing, at a loss for words. It only encourages her to keep going, spewing thoughts that have been boiling over for the past few years.

"You barely look at me when we're home, I had to drag you out of the house to get here! You left halfway through our anniversary dinner last year because work called you in. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like you're only with me because it's easier than leaving and starting over, and that fucking hurts. It hurts when you can't bear to spend five minutes with me away from work. I've been telling you this for ages but you just...you don't listen to me." She leans forward, drink completely forgotten and hits the final nail in the coffin.

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

"I never even know if you're coming home to me." Her voice cracks, and she hugs her middle, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "So yes, Simon, I want to separate. I'm not happy, not like I was when I met you." A sheen of tears she refuses to let fall.

"You can focus on work like you love to, and I can...I can move on."

It was so good when they started out. She found him endearing, dry humour and brooding and all. It was special, those first few years, and she'll always care about him but this...this waiting, this hurting, laying in bed at night alone and cold and crying...it wasn't right. It wasn't what she wanted and she wouldn't force Simon to want it when he clearly didn't want to.

"Fucking hell, I love you." Simon says quickly, stumbling over what to say. He reaches out for her hand on the table, but she pulls it away before he can grab it. It stings more than he can convey, makes the reality crashes down onto him.

He's about to lose her.

Because he couldn't fucking bear to pull himself out of being 'Ghost'.

It was always a rough couple of weeks during his leave. The adjustment to civilian life was a slow one for him, but that's not really an excuse at all.

"I don't think you do."

Simon blinks at her like she's slapped him. "You...you don't think so?" He repeats, running a hand through his hair. She nods, one nod, quick and so sure that it makes his chest ache.

Fuck. He's absolutely messed up.

"Everything's finalised on my end." She says. "You just need to sign them." Her voice is soft, almost like she's coaxing him.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's not touching those fucking papers. He's not losing someone he loves again.

"I'll take time off." He says, the intensity of his gaze makes a shiver run down her spine. "We can work through it, yeah? You can't spring this on me and not give me a chance to protest."

She shakes her head, "You're only taking time off because I'm upset." She tries to explain. "What do you think is going to happen? We spend a month together doing what we used to, and when everything's a little more stable you leave again. Distance yourself. Shut me out. Then we're back to square one."

"Won't happen." He says like he hasn't been doing it for the past few years already. "You...I can't lose you, darling." He leans forward. "Let me make it better. Give me a few months-"

"Simon-"

"A week."

"A week?" Her eyes widen. "A week to...what, prove that you'll change?"

"One week."

She worries her lip between her teeth, considering. One week wasn't a long time, but hope was dangerous in a situation like this.

"I'm not letting you go over something like this." Simon says. "I can't."

"This isn't about you." She crosses her arms. "You really think you can turn just...reverse the past few years in a week?" Maybe it's foolish of her to want him to say yes, to fight for her and realise that she's been hurting, but goddamn doesn't a small part of her scream at him to do it anyway.

"Not trying to reverse it." He folds his arms, and she can see the tense line of his shoulders as he takes in the situation, gears turning in his head as he plans how he's going to work his way out of a situation so precious and daunting as this.

Part of him didn't think it would ever come to this. Yes, he can be cold and aloof but Simon thought she knew that he loved her through it all. No matter what.

When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?

Fuck if that doesn't tear through his chest more painfully than any caliber bullet ever could.

He takes her in quietly for a moment.

The woman he fell in love with. The person that gave him a reason to keep going, a motive to feel anything other than the cold efficientness of loading a gun and firing. Soft touches and warm smiles, something so at odds with the rough life he's used to.

Sitting there in front of him, she looks more beautiful than he remembers, and it only proves to make his stomach sink like a stone at the notion of seeding any doubt about his feelings in her heart.

A right fucking bastard he was for it.

"I'm sorry." He breathes out, much softer than the gruff voice he's been using with her. "I'll do better. Just give me a chance, yeah?"

For one horrible moment, Simon thinks she'll decline. That she'll slide over the papers again and demand he sign them.

But she considers his words for a moment before nodding once.

And it's all he needs.

A fighting chance.

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Part 2

(11/10/2023)

[niilue]

⎯ "when you finally confess your feelings to vi, a simple "i love you" ignites into hungry kisses and desperate touches, leaving both of you burning with need and craving so much more".⎯

cw: fem!reader, sub!vi, second person pov, fingering, wetness / arousal, detailed foreplay, vi it's so vocal <33

you stand before vi, heart racing and palms sweaty. the air is thick with anticipation, your thoughts a tumultuous storm of desire and doubt. with a deep breath, you finally gather the courage to speak.

"violet," you whisper, "i need to tell you something."

she looks up at you, her eyes wide with curiosity, the light from the setting sun casting a warm glow upon her delicate features. "what is it?" she asks, her voice a soft caress against the evening air. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of the confession pressing against your chest.

"i've been holding this in for so long, and i can't take it anymore. i love you," you blurt out, the words tumbling from your mouth like a dam breaking free.

her eyes widen, and for a moment, she seems to stop breathing. "you do?" she murmurs, a hint of hope coloring her voice.

you nod, feeling the gravity of the moment. "more than anything. and i know it's not the right time or place, but i had to tell you."

vi’s gaze lingers on yours, searching for any sign of insincerity. finding none, she takes a step closer, closing the space between you. "i love you too," she confesses, her voice barely a whisper. your heart soars at her words, and before you know it, your hands are cradling her face, pulling her in for a kiss so intense it feels like it could set the world on fire.

her lips are soft and yielding, a sweet surrender to the passion that's been simmering beneath the surface for so long. the kiss deepens, your tongues dancing together in a dance of unbridled want. you can feel the heat radiating from her body, and the urgency of the moment builds like a crescendo. without breaking the kiss, you trail your hand down her neck, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse against your fingertips. you continue to explore, your hand migrates from her waist, slipping down to the curve of her hip and then over the swell of her buttock. you give it a firm yet gentle squeeze, feeling the taut muscles beneath your palm. she responds with a low moan, pressing herself closer to you, her hips moving in a silent plea for more. the heat of your arousal matches hers as your hand slides over the smooth fabric of her tight pants, finding the damp spot that signals her excitement. violet's breath hitches in her throat, her body trembling with need. you can't resist the temptation; you slip your hand under the waistband, your fingertips grazing the bare skin of her lower abdomen. she gasps, her legs quivering as your touch sends waves of pleasure through her. you continue your exploration, reaching the warm, slick folds of her sex. she's so wet, so ready for you, and the knowledge sends a bolt of desire through your core. you tease her clit lightly, eliciting a gasp that turns into a whimper, her hips jerking forward in response to your touch. her passion is a heady aphrodisiac, urging you to claim her completely.

"oh, yes," vi whispers, her eyes glazed with pleasure as your fingers delve deeper into her wetness. she gasps and her legs buckle slightly, forcing you to hold her tighter to keep her steady.

"you're so wet," you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with lust. she nods, panting, unable to form coherent words. her breaths come in shallow, staccato bursts, punctuated by moans and whimpers as you begin to rub her clit in earnest. her body responds instinctively, hips rocking against your hand.

"don't stop," she begs, her voice barely above a whimper. "please, don't ever stop."

you can feel the tension building in her, her muscles tightening around your fingers as she approaches the brink of ecstasy. you quicken your pace, applying just the right amount of pressure, and she cries out, her body convulsing in your arms as she reaches climax. her nails dig into your shoulder, her legs trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. the sound of her moans is like music to your ears, a sweet symphony of desire that sends your own passion soaring. as she rides out her orgasm, you kiss her neck, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin, feeling the pulse of her heart against your lips. when she finally stills, panting heavily, you pull back and look into her eyes, seeing the love and lust reflected there, knowing that this is just the beginning of a passionate night that will change everything between you forever. ♥️

[captainsophiestark]

The Shiz University Book Fair

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: Wicked

Summary: Fiyero made an enemy in his destruction of the library, but it might be just the spark he needs to find something in life that matters.

Word Count: 2,952

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: The actor who played Fiyero the first time I saw the musical will forever and always hold the place of favorite in my heart, but damn, Jonathan Bailey is a VERY close second.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"That self-important, irreverent, stupid, idiot."

I grumbled to myself, using it to vent a little bit of my temper as I worked through my corner of the library. The books I'd been meticulously organizing, gathering, and cataloguing had been scattered to the winds, and even worse, some of them had sustained damage. I couldn't be completely sure yet, but it also seemed like a few were missing. I was going to kill that stupid fucking prince.

"Well, I see someone completely ignored my critical lesson yesterday."

Speak of the devil and he will appear. I huffed, then set down the stack of books in my hand before whirling around with a fierce scowl. None other than Fiyero Tigelaar stood before me, much closer than was wise if he knew how badly I wanted to hit him, staring at me with his arms crossed and an insufferable smile on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, absolutely seething. Fiyero just shrugged, apparently completely unaffected.

"I noticed you didn't come to the Oz Dust last night. I figured that meant I had more work to do in corrupting my fellow classmates." He gave a significant look to the stacks of books behind me. "Apparently, I was right."

"If you so much as move a finger to touch my books again, I swear, I'll knock that stupid smile right off your face. For good."

Fiyero's eyebrows raised, but his grin only widened. He held up his hands as if to placate me, but he also took a step forward. I narrowed my eyes.

"Listen, I'm just trying to say... you seem a little stressed," he said. I scoffed, but it didn't deter him. "And in my professional opinion, you need to let go of some of this stress before it eats you alive. Living in the library, working day and night, not letting go and having fun? I've seen it claim more than one attractive classmate whom I could've saved. I'm not letting it happen this time."

I clenched and unclenched my fists, barely managing to restrain myself from punching him in the nose. Clearly, his flirty charm had worked almost universally for him before, to the point that he wasn't getting a single one of the glaringly obvious signs that I did not like him and did not want to talk to him. I huffed a long sigh through my nose.

"Fine. You want me to let off some stress? Here goes!" Fiyero grinned like he'd just won the lottery, but I steamrolled over him, relishing the moment that satisfaction dropped from his face. "I've been working on putting together pallets of books and organizing everything for months for the largest reading and book fair in Oz! All for kids, who travel from far and wide to come to the Shiz University Book Fair. For some of them, this is the only access they get to important stories, reading events, and information that they otherwise can't even dream about. I've been helping to put it on since I started here at Shiz, and for the first time, I've finally been put in charge of the whole thing. My dream job, my dream event, that will do so much good. And you fucking ruined it! 

"It's going to take me SO LONG to put everything back, reorganize what you threw around the room for your stupid dance break, replace the damaged and missing books, all before the kids come in less than a week! And frankly, if you hadn't destroyed all of my hard work, I probably would've gone dancing with my friends last night, to celebrate the end of our preparations. But instead, I'm here, working all day and night to get things back in order for one of the events that I not only enjoy most, but that's most important to me and the people who attend. Some of us know how to balance important things that we care about with dicking around, and we don't need lessons from a sanctimonious asshat who thinks he has life figured out even though it's painfully obvious that he doesn't."

Fiyero frowned at me, actually looking like he was using his brain for the first time since I'd met him. Whether he was burning up his processing power trying to think of a comeback or just fuming about someone having the nerve to shout at him, I didn't wait to find out.

"You're lucky I didn't kill you the minute you set foot in my space here," I continued, the anger leveling to a dangerous simmer rather than the explosion I'd been feeling a few moments earlier. "Now get the hell out."

With that, I whipped around, putting my back to Fiyero and returning to my stacks of books. It was the clearest method I could think of for dismissing him, and hopefully, he at least got this message.

I finished running through an inventory of the next stack of books without interruption from Fiyero. After another moment, I couldn't stand the not knowing anymore, so I whirled back around with a scowl already loaded to tell him to get lost again, this time in stronger words. But, to my surprise, he was nowhere to be seen.

I hummed to myself, scouting the library one last time. He was really gone. Good. I'd expected more of a fight, but I definitely didn't have time for one. Hopefully, that would be the last I saw of that obnoxious party boy.

***************

"Babies and toddlers?"

"Check."

"Learning to read?"

"Check."

"Middle grade?"

"Check."

"Everything else? Nonfiction, second language, advanced readers-"

"Everything checked off and accounted for. Now triple checked."

I let out a long sigh as I stared around the circle of my closest, most trusted volunteers. They each had clipboards in hand, running through last inventory and organization checks with me before the Shiz University Book Fair officially began. Despite how intense I'd been all morning, they all still had smiles on their faces as they indulged my over-preparedness. This event meant just as much to them as to me, after all, and we were all recovering from last week's unplanned chaos.

"Alright. Then great job, everybody. Grab some coffee or whatever else you want, and then get in position. Doors open in ten."

Everyone nodded, sharing smiles before breaking from our circle and heading off to do whatever they wanted with their last few minutes of quiet. Some of them clapped me on the shoulder on their way past, and I gave them each a smile and a nod.

After the scene Fiyero had caused in the library, not only had everything required reorganization, but a good number of the books had also required replacing. I'd managed to track down most of them, but with only a week's notice, I hadn't quite gotten all of them. Still, on such a limited time frame, I was proud of what I'd managed to accomplish. Everything was as close to perfect as it could be, in position and ready for the arrival of the kids to go off without a hitch.

Of course, no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than a new challenge popped up out of the ether to punch me in the nose. With just under ten minutes until book fair start, Fiyero had the nerve to come riding in on a bicycle, a cart behind him and a smile on his face.

I rushed across the field space where we'd set up the book stands, trying to head him off as early as possible. I caught some of our volunteers sharing glances and looking at Fiyero with interest, but this was a problem I was perfectly happy to handle myself.

"You! Get the hell out of here, right now!" I shouted, pointing to Fiyero as he stopped his bike and hopped off of it. I raced right up to him, shoving at his shoulders and trying to shoo him back onboard the bike, but he just held up his hands in surrender while still standing his ground.

"Relax! I come bearing books!"

I froze. Fiyero's shoulders relaxed when I stopped trying to shove him out of my space, but his relief was a little early as far as I was concerned. I narrowed my eyes at him, incredibly suspicious and ready to resume my attack at a moment's notice.

"What do you mean you come bearing books? What are you talking about?"

Fiyero smiled, keeping his hands up in the air as he walked to the back of the wagon he'd pulled here on his bicycle. I watched him like a hawk, but when he flipped the tarp back to reveal a few different crates of books, I couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open in shock.

"What...?"

"I heard what you said in the library," Fiyero said with a shrug. "I'm... sorry... that I ruined some of the books you'd prepared for the children. I didn't mean to. Or, I suppose I did, but... I didn't realize how important they were at the time. I asked around, and a few of your volunteers said you hadn't been able to replace some of the books, so... I decided to do it myself."

My eyebrows shot up as Fiyero lifted the first crate out of the cart. He walked over to me, stopping just in front of me and holding it out so I could see inside. Lo and behold, it contained more than one volume of the books I hadn't quite been able to replace on such short notice.

I looked up at Fiyero with wide eyes, all the fire and impulse for violence drained away. He just smiled back at me, and this time, it didn't seem to have the same arrogant tinge as before.

"...How...?"

He just shrugged again.

"I'm a prince. I have my ways."

"You... you seriously went to all the trouble to track these down? Just for the book fair?"

The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile. "I've been trying to find something useful to do with my title for a long time. It wasn't a problem."

I just breathed another surprised sigh. I didn't know how to react to the man in front of me. I'd written him off as a shallow asshole, quite validly in my opinion, but the Fiyero standing before me now seemed like a completely different man.

"So... is there somewhere in particular you'd like me to put these books?"

"Oh! Yes, uh... yeah. Follow me."

I led the way to the table I'd worked hard to cover up a slight empty spot on, and Fiyero dutifully followed me. I waved to a few of the other volunteers to unload the rest of his cart, and we worked quickly, Fiyero providing much more help than I'd been expecting. By the time the doors officially opened and the first few children arrived, everything was perfectly in place.

I'd been expecting Fiyero to take off not long after he dropped off the books, but he continued to surprise me. He talked to the kids and their families as they came in, and not long into the event, he borrowed a map of the table layouts from one of the more experienced volunteers. Within ten minutes, he was helping direct kids and families with questions, carrying their books, and sending them to people who could answer questions if he ran into one he didn't know the answer to.

I kept an eye on him all the same, expecting the other shoe to drop. Surely, the Fiyero that had destroyed my books and the rest of the library would make a reappearance at some point. And yet, he never did. The new Fiyero not only stayed, but he stayed later than some of my regular volunteers. The sun was setting by the time the last kids and families left, and Fiyero was still here, along with my most dedicated volunteer core. I shook my head as I crossed the space to talk to him, still not quite believing this had been real.

"Well!" he said, addressing me with a smile and his hands on his hips as soon as he noticed me coming. "That seems like it was a success!"

"Yeah. We're still looking at numbers, but... I think it might've been our most successful event ever."

Fiyero's smile took on a warm glow that made him much, much more handsome than I'd ever thought possible when he was destroying books.

"Congratulations."

Heat rose to my face as I glanced at the ground.

"Yeah, well... thanks." When I met his eyes again, that same warm smile almost knocked me flat as my heart raced in my chest. Still, I forced myself to take a breath and return to reality. "...Why are you here?"

Fiyero frowned. "Am... I not wanted?"

"No! No, that's not what I was trying to say. Seriously. I appreciate all your help, both with the books and with the kids today. Honestly, you were great. But... I don't know, I'm just surprised, is all. You didn't really strike me as the type of guy to hang around volunteering at a book fair for an entire day."

Fiyero hummed, glancing down with a self-deprecating smile on his face. I watched him with interest, especially when he met my eyes again with more sincerity than I'd honestly believed him capable of.

"I didn't strike myself as that type either. In fact, I pride myself on my ability to corrupt my fellow classmates despite the best efforts of people like you. But... it was nice to be a part of this. Speaking with you in the library... it's clear how much this matters. To you, of course, but to the kids and their families who come to this event... It obviously does a lot of good. It was nice to be a part of creating that."

I smiled at Fiyero, something I never could've imagined doing just a few hours ago.

"Not what I expected to hear from Mr. Nothing Matters."

Fiyero shrugged. "Well..."

He turned slightly away from me, rubbing the back of his neck and moving like he was going to retrieve his bike and leave. I reached out and grabbed his hand before he could get very far, to both our surprise. Fiyero looked at me with raised eyebrows, a light behind his eyes that I'd never seen before.

"It was wonderful to have your help," I said. "I kind of hate to admit it, but... you were a big part of the reason this event was such a success. You found replacements for books that families and kids had been waiting for and expecting, but more than that, you spent time with them. You're a prince. Whether or not you care about the title, taking the time to talk to, help, and encourage those kids, who all know exactly who you are? It was a big deal. So thank you. I'm really glad you decided to be a part of this."

The last of the guarded expression faded from Fiyero's face as he fixed me with a soft smile. He stepped closer to me, and after a moment, I let my hand fall from his before clearing my throat.

"Anyway..." I said, trying to break whatever intensity was currently building between the two of us. "If you wanted to keep doing stuff like this, you know, helping make a difference... I host a reading group every week with some of the kids who are more local. I'd love to have your help hosting that, if you'd be interested."

Fiyero was fully grinning at me now, the confidence bordering on arrogance back in full force. This time, though, I didn't quite mind it as much.

"I'd love to help with that," he said. "On one condition."

"...And what's that?"

"As long as agreeing to help with your reading group doesn't prevent me from asking you out to dinner. And maybe for some dancing, to celebrate Shiz's best ever book fair."

Despite myself, I smiled, my heart flipping in my chest. If he'd had the nerve to ask me out a week ago, I would've slapped him. Now, I quite literally couldn't think of anything I'd rather do to celebrate.

"I think we can make that work," I said, fighting and losing to a smile of my own.

"Perfect. How about... tomorrow night?"

"You're on."

We shared another smile, but before we could do anything else, the voices of my friends, the other volunteers who'd been the most involved in this event, broke in. We'd all made plans to go out and celebrate once this event was officially finished, and although they were probably pretty interested in seeing what happened with Fiyero and I, none of them wanted to wait any longer to celebrate.

"One second!" I called, waving to them before turning back to Fiyero. He was still watching me with a little smile, and it made my heart race when I noticed it. "...Do you want to come with us?"

His eyebrows shot up.

"Where are you going?"

"The Oz Dust. We're celebrating a successful event, and you were certainly a part of creating that success. It wouldn't feel right to celebrate without you."

Fiyero grinned, then took my hand in his. My heart skipped a beat, but I pushed through, letting Fiyero pull me along and towards the group of my friends.

"It would be my honor," he said, giving me one last look before turning with a smile to greet the rest of our group. I followed, watching him, still a little in awe. Whatever had caused this change in Fiyero, it was truly amazing to see. Everyone else in the school seemed to be smitten with the party boy, but suddenly, I found myself head over heels for the version of him that seemed to care as much as I did, now that he'd found a cause worth caring about.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

[ellecdc]

Hi!!! I don’t know if you’re still up for some pregnant!Reader, but I have an idea after reading your Remus which he thought he can’t have his own baby. And my mind spiral.

What if, reader and him (whoever it is that you decide it to be. I’m not picky ;)) ) are dating for a while but never talk about baby or even marriage yet. Then just out of the blue Reader found out she’s pregnant. So she kind of both freaking out and happy at the same time.

I don’t know why, I just want some angst with the Reader to approach the boy carefully, break the news for him and worries that he might not want the baby.

hi doll! thanks for your request. also I don't think this is very heavy on the angst, now that I've read it back? hopefully I was able to do your prompt justice, though! <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader who tells him she's pregnant [1.3k words]

CW: pregnancy fic, newish relationship, slight miscommunication part way through but they work it out real quick, open ended HEA: I do not state whether the reader wants to keep the pregnancy - that is up to your interpretation!

You were beginning to wonder if you’d gone about this the right way. 

Maybe you should have called him first? Then again, calling someone to ask if they had time to meet up and talk was never a good sign. Knowing Sirius, he would have wrestled the information out of you over the phone, and you felt like this needed to be a conversation had in person.

Maybe you should have texted him and warned him that you were dropping by? But then again, he would have called you and asked what the occasion was, and he would have been able to sniff out the hesitation in your voice, and this needed to be a conversation you had in person. 

Maybe you should have-

But any ‘should have’s ceased to matter when you heard shoes scuffing on the sidewalk as Sirius spotted you sitting on the steps leading up to his townhouse, a smile breaking out on his face as he pulled his headphones off of his head to give you his full attention.

“Hey doll.” He greeted, still clearly stunned yet not unpleasantly so. “This is such a nice surprise. Hi!” 

“Hi.” You greeted quietly, accepting his fierce embrace and a kiss to the lips as you offered him the biggest smile you could muster. You swore you noticed his brows twitch a fraction but the expression was fleeting before he pressed a second kiss to your lips. 

“I’m happy to see you. Come inside? I’ll just get changed and then we can hang out, yeah?”

“Sure.” You let out with a breath, and you let him take your hand in his as he unlocked his door with the other and granted the both of you entrance to his home. 

You had been chewing on your lip as you waited for Sirius to change, though you only registered that your mouth tasted like iron when Sirius finally returned from his room.

“Have you had anything for lunch yet, doll?” He asked, stamping a quick kiss to your head though hardly slowing his strides as he made for the kitchen cabinets.

“Sirius?” 

“Are you hungry?” He asked again, mistaking you calling his name for having not heard him.  “You know I’m pants in the kitchen, but I can probably handle some mac and cheese if you’re down.”

“Sirius.”

“Yeah, doll?” He asked; the box of mac and cheese in his hand lowering when he turned to see you now standing from the table and looking at him gravely. “Is everything alright?” 

“I-”

Your hesitation caused his brows to twitch again before he decided to just place the box of pasta onto his counter. You watched as his face fell frighteningly blank before he crossed his arms protectively across his chest and leaned back against the counter.

“What’s up?” He asked quietly, clearly attempting at flippant and casual but landing somewhere around fear and defeat. 

“I…I know we haven’t, well… we haven’t been dating very long and I- I don’t know. We’ve never, well, we’ve-” You paused to take a breath, swallowing around your gag reflex that you were sure for the first time in over a week wasn’t from the news you were trying to tell Sirius, but rather the nerves of telling Sirius the news. “Fuck.”

You pushed the heels of your palms into your eyes until you saw stars, trying to convince your lungs to take in the air you so desperately craved but falling painfully short.

“Breathe, doll.” Sirius sighed, suddenly beside you as he rubbed one hand along your back and guided you to sit back down in your chair with the other. “Just breathe.”

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted as your arse hit the seat; voice muffled from your hands covering most of your face and also behind the various hiccups and sobs escaping you. 

Sirius’ hand stilled on your back before hesitantly resuming its ministrations. “You… you’re what?” He whispered.

“I’m, I’m pregnant. I- I’m sorry, Sirius, I’m so sorry.”

“Whoa, whoa. Okay, just breathe, Y/N, please.” Sirius let out with another sigh as the two of you sat at his kitchen table; you trying to even out your breathing and him waiting for you to. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius, I…I really am.” You said finally, pulling your hands away from your eyes and trying to imbue as much sincerity into your reddened, swollen eyes. Sirius chewed on his lip as he surveyed your face.

“What exactly are you sorry for, Y/N?” He whispered. 

“I- I don’t… I’m just sorry. I’m sorry to be dumping this on you, I’m sorry this is happening, I just-”

“Okay, new rule, you’re not allowed to apologise for… being pregnant, okay? Because it seems to me that might be both our faults.”

“I know but…”

“No but’s.” Sirius denied; silver eyes tracking the way his hand brushed up and down your arm. “What- well… I mean, what part about this is the most upsetting to you? What has you this upset right now?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I mean, we’ve never talked about this, you know?” You asked helplessly between shuddering breaths, resting your elbow on his table and leaning your cheek onto your fist as you looked at him. “And we’ve not been dating for very long. I guess…I guess I was worried about telling you, I didn’t want you to be upset.” You managed to admit, voice trailing off towards the end of your sentence as a fresh set of tears pooled in your eyes. 

Sirius made a tsking sound before taking a steadying breath. “I’m sorry you were scared, doll.” He started. “I have to admit I’m far less upset at the news that you’re pregnant than I was when I thought you were breaking up with me.”

You sat up straight, then, surprising Sirius and causing him to do the same. 

“Breaking up with you?”

Sirius let out a soft, sad chuckle. “Well, yeah; you show up at my house unannounced, all wound up, stating that you have news and then barely managing to get it out before you’re crying.”

“Oh god.” You groaned as you shoved your face into your hands.

“Y/N? Can I hug you? Please?” He asked then, sounding far smaller than you think you’d ever heard him before. 

In the next moment you were standing, tucking yourself quickly into his chest when he stood too and tuning in to the sound of his heart - a riot within his chest - as the two of you swayed gently in the middle of his kitchen. 

“What do you want to do?” He asked after a while; his heart falling to a more acceptable rate within his chest though pounding just as hard as it was when he first hugged you. “Do you know what you want to do?”

You swallowed thickly, scrunching your eyes shut as you willed yourself to be honest with him.

“I…I think I do, yeah. Know what I want to do.”

You could feel Sirius nodding from where his cheek was pressed to the crown of your head. “Okay.”

A few more minutes of silence passed before Sirius broke it again.

“Can I ask one thing, love?” 

You braced yourself as you pulled away from his chest, though only far enough so that you could look up at him, and nodded. 

His bottom lip wobbled for a moment before a look of determination painted his features. 

“Whatever you want to do, can we do it together?” 

“But…what do you want?”

Sirius’s head quickly shook before he lowered his forehead to yours. “I want what you want, I just want to do it together, okay? Please?”

You couldn’t help but breathe out a humourless laugh; humourless because of how worked up you had been over having this conversation, because of how you’d managed to scare your sweet boyfriend into thinking you were breaking up with him, and because of how stupidly fucking lucky you were to have landed such a fucking keeper.

“Okay.” You agreed. “Of course. Please. Together.” 

“Together.” He echoed.

[gguk-n]

Transition (Charles Leclerc x Driver!Reader)

Part 2 of Replaced

Summary- After being kicked out of Ferrari rather rudely, Y/N must try to find a seat in the ever changing driver's market in the craziest year at Formula One till date.

{Reader's POV}

After leaving our home in Monaco, I spent the next couple of months regrouping with my team. I visited my family to clear my head; my mother always knew what to do in a difficult situation. She was the brains of the family. After a long and deep talk with her I realised what I wanted with the future. Number 1, I wanted to race in Formula One until I was 60. Number 2, I wanted a team that loved, valued and respected me as their driver. Number 3, last but not the least, I wanted to be paid more than what Ferrari was paying me.

Every team on the grid was open for picking except McLaren. Mercedes was losing their star driver, RedBull had to negotiate with Checo; the two teams I was eyeing right now. If I knew Horner and if I played my cards right, having a female driver on his team would change the dynamic and bring more spot light on the team. If Toto signed me, he would be replacing one iconic person with another; enough to make headlines.

The first race of the season hurt, I couldn't believe the next 24 races would be my last time in red, I couldn't fake the smiles. It hurt every time I saw Charles. We met for the first time since I left a day before Bahrain's media day. He looked as handsome as ever but his eyes held this deep seated sadness, you could see it. "Been a while" Charles almost whispered when our eyes met in the hotel. "It has, I've missed you" I replied. "I've missed you too" he almost cried out wrapping me in his arms. "The last few months were torture. You'll come home now, right?" he asked still holding me in his embrace. "Charles" I began, he pulled away, tears visible in his eyes, "I'll come back soon, mon tout. I need time" I mumbled. "How long will that be, mon cherie?" he asked. I wiped the tear that slipped out of his eyes, "The day I sign a team, I'll move back. I'll know my future and I'll finally be able to look at you without jealousy" I said. "OK" he nodded, kissing me for the first time since we met. "Je vous aime" he stated. "Je t'aime aussi" I replied back.

I finished P2 in the first race of the season. All the media and commentary were going crazy. It felt nice to finish P2. Max was fun to talk to post race during the cool down. He was always the more level headed one in our friendship. Max asked me about how things were between the two off us away from the prying eyes of the media who had already started to announce an imminent break up between the two of us. "He's been shit, since you left" Max spoke. "I'm sorry" I apologised. "oh no, don't apologise to me. I was just stating the obvious." he shook his head. "I heard you're talking to Horner" he commented. "Yeah, we're discussing but like I'm discussing with a lot of teams, honestly." I replied. "As you should, I think it would be fun....if we were team mates." he replied thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind terrorising Charles in a RedBull" I laughed.

The next few races were quite memorable with me on the podium for every race. It was a proud feeling, a bitter sweet one though. Charles only saw me at race weekends but that was the nature of the sport, didn't mean that I didn't love him any less.

The talks with RedBull fell through since I wasn't able to bring in the kind of sponsors they wanted and the dream of driving in one too. Mercedes was very iffy, where Toto wanted to bring a new driver on the grid; while I was still effectively seatless. But Susie was a smart woman, she knew having me on the team after the void Lewis would leave, would do wonders since I was the first and only female driver on the grid in a really long time and having me would bring the similar kind of publicity, if not the same.

After months of back and forth, and negotiating; Toto agreed bringing a junior driver in too early wouldn't benefit anyone. I would race for Mercedes for the next 2 years and if the options opened up I didn't mind letting Toto have his little fantasy. My announcement would happen in Monza, the home of the tifosi. The perfect time and place. I had moved back in with Charles after the contract was signed. I did not tell him that I planned to announce it in Monza. Charles was just happy to have me back.

Mercedes made the announcement just before free practise, effectively ruining any plans the media had, it played in my favour and I had a ball. "You love drama don't you" Charles laughed. "What can I say? I have a knack for the theatrics" I laughed along. "Quoting Chandler are we?" Charles muttered kissing me as he said it. The days leading up to the race were crazy. As both me and Charles got ready to get into the car he said, "Can't wait to see you in black. You look hotter in black anyways" "Hope to be your teammate again in the future" I nodded as we put our helmets on. Charles won the team's home race. I missed the podium by a smidge, but knowing my future was secure didn't make the loss saddening.

As Charles got down from the podium to meet me, Arthur handed him something. "I thought, whether I finish podium or not I'd ask you this but as a 2 time Monza winner sounds so much cooler." he rambled. "What are you talking about Charles?" I questioned. He got down on one knee, the crowd went silent. "Will you Y/N Y/L/N do the honour of making me your husband?" he asked. I had tears in my eyes, "Yes" I nodded. Charles slipped the ring on my finger and kissed me. I could taste the champagne on his lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss while pulling his hair. We pulled away to a lot of hooting and screaming. "Wow" Charles exclaimed. "That's the hottest thing you've done till date, I think I'm hard" he said. "I'm staking my claim." I stated. "I'm always yours, now and forever" he replied. "Can't believe we'll have two Leclerc's on the grid next year." I commented. "Can't wait to race you Mrs Leclerc" he said kissing me again.

[keikikait]

ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 5.4k

summary: rafe reminds you of the reason why he's doing all of this in the first place

warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, drug use, smut (DUBCON/NONCON. READER IS DRUGGED WHILE HE TOUCHES HER, nipple play, masturbation (rafe jerks off while the reader is asleep PLEASE DONT LOOK AT ME)), rafe breaks into reader's house, flashback rafe is basically season 2 rafe, very slight john b x reader, drinking, rafe is obsessed, please read at your own discretion!, innocent(ish)!reader, again, stalker!rafe, manipulation, reader is still high on coke

a note: please don't look at me rn.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You look so beautiful, all pliant in his lap.

Rafe spends a long time just holding you, pushing your hair out of your eyes and wiping away the drool that periodically escapes your lips, all numb and tingling from the coke. His cock throbs at the sight of you, all limp and soft with blown out pupils, sitting vulnerable in his lap. You were in his arms, and you were his. His gaze travelled over you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way you were shivering. “You like that, angel?” his lips grazed your neck, nibbling softly. “I know you feel all warm and fuzzy, baby. That’s a sign of a good high.”

Your head falls against his shoulder, a soft whine escaping your lips. Rafe hums, his chest rumbling softly against your cheek. He had known that the coke would hit you hard, had been expecting it. But he was surprised by how responsive you were, how receptive you were to his touch. He rubs your hips, hands caressing you. “Shhh, angel, stay calm. Do you feel warm?”

You nod, starting to squirm in his lap. You were very warm, almost burning up, but you felt too lethargic to move. He could tell you were overheating, that the coke was making your blood run hot and your skin feel cold. He glances down to where he could see under the V-neck of the T-shirt he’d given you, and he chuckles softly, seeing your nipples poking up through the thin fabric. “You’re warm, angel. Want me to take off your shirt for you? You’ll cool down without it on.”

You don’t get a chance to respond before Rafe pulls your shirt off anyway, tossing it aside. “Fuck, so pretty,” he murmurs, reaching up to pinch your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. He spent the better part of a year and a half wondering, dreaming about what they would look like, zooming in on photos of you in bikinis just hoping he would catch a glimpse. They were perfect, even more perfect than he imagined. He pinches them hard. “Fuck, baby. I love you so much.”

The pinch sends you reeling, pulling back slightly. “Ow!” You whine as you squirm, trying to get away from his eager fingers. “No…stop… God, please!”

Rafe chuckles, putting one hand on your lower back and pulling you forward. “Awh, angel,” he pinches your nipple again. “God can’t help you. He left you here with me.” He tuts when you whine again, pressing you against him. “Oh, come on baby, don't be shy”, he coos, giving them another sharp squeeze. “These tits are mine now, aren't they? You're my little doll, my angel.” he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “And I'm going to have so much fun breaking you in.”

You feel his cock throbbing against your cunt, right up against your clit. You shake your head, trying to move away, but your body is so heavy and warm. You manage to find your voice, opening your eyes to look at him, although your vision is blurry. “Why are you…doing this to me?”

“Because you're mine,” Rafe says, a small laugh escaping him as he grinds his thick cock against your sensitive clit. “I've wanted you for so long, and now I finally have you. You’re right here, in my lap, all mine.” He moves his hand off of your nipple and cups your face, bringing your face towards his to kiss you. You struggle to kiss back, your lips and mouth still tingling from the cocaine on your gums.

You pull away. “Stop! Please! I didn’t do anything to you!” 

“Awh, baby,” He shifts you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you against his chest, his face right next to yours. He runs his hands over your shoulder blades. “Do you not remember it, angel?”

“Remember what?” You ask, finally meeting his eyes.

“The night we met.” Rafe says, pushing some hair behind your ears.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

That summer night was as hot and sticky as the rest.

The Pogues and the Kooks had all gathered at The Boneyard, all attending a bonfire put on by Pope. Rafe had never even planned on going, but after he heard there would be free booze and free cocaine, he decided he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. When Rafe had arrived, you were already there, bottle of beer at your lips as you sat with JJ and John B. Pope was around, walking the beach, mingling with the others.

Rafe watches you from across the sand, just a ways away, watching as you laughed at something JJ had said. He had seen you around, of course, knew that you were friends with all of his least favourite Pogues, but he had never really talked to you. You intrigued him right off the bat, sitting there all beautiful, surrounded by two of the biggest losers in North Carolina, at least in Rafe’s opinion. He excuses himself from his conversation with Topper and Kelce walked forward, pushing past people as he moved toward you, his hands in his pockets.

JJ glances over and immediately stands, ready to fight, but Rafe sticks his hands up in defence. “Relax, Maybank, relax. I come in peace tonight.” 

JJ sits back down on the log next to you, scoffing. He grips the neck of the beer bottle tight. “What do you want, Rafe?”

Rafe looks down at you, and he suddenly doesn’t really know what he wants. He was so used to having a plan, knowing exactly what he was doing. But right now, he was just staring at you, and he didn’t really know what to say. Not that that ever stopped him before. “I came to talk.” he says.

“About what?” John B asks. “Have you come to apologise?”

“Apologise?” He snorts. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that. I just wanted to say something to the angel sitting over here.” His eyes flit over to you for a moment before looking at John B again. “I don’t want a big scene, just want a couple of minutes alone with her. Get to know her, you know?”

“Well, she's not interested,” John B says, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Go bother someone else. Plenty of girls here, I'm sure you can find one who's into Kook assholes like you.”

Rafe glares at John B, his head tilting slightly. He didn’t mind his insults to him, of course he didn’t, but he didn’t like the way John B was holding onto you, and he definitely didn’t like the way John B spoke for you. “Why don’t you let her speak for herself?”

You anxiously rub the beer bottle label with your thumb. “Sorry, Rafe. I’m trying to have a fun time with my friends tonight. But John B is right, there are plenty of girls here.”

Rafe purses his lips, his gaze flickering back and forth between you, John B, and JJ. He glances around, seeing plenty of girls nearby, all of them looking fine. Maybe he really was just imagining things, imagining the butterflies in his stomach and the blood rushing to his cock. He didn’t know you at all, really. He just thought you were pretty, and that had been enough for him to want you. This is just all his pride speaking, he didn’t like being rejected, he would move on. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. My apologies.” He excuses himself, exiting with a small wave before heading back over to Topper and Kelce.

“What a fucking asshole.” JJ mumbles, taking another sip of his beer. Your gaze follows him until he’s out of sight, heading behind a few rocks with Topper and Kelce. You could feel his eyes on you as he walked away, and it gave you a weird feeling. You didn’t want him to be mad at you for saying no, didn’t want him to think you were rude or anything, but you just weren’t interested in Kooks. Especially Rafe. 

Even if he is really attractive, almost annoyingly so.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe watches you all night. 

He gets high on coke, snorting way too many lines, hoping the buzz would keep you and your pretty little body off of his mind, but it does the opposite. He can’t stop himself from glancing over in your direction, staring for a bit too long as you dance around the fire with John B. He can’t keep his eyes off you, and by the time it’s getting closer to two in the morning, he’s had enough. 

The coke has long since worn off, and he’s starting to get pissed off at himself, at wanting someone he can’t have, at getting so fixated on someone so goddamn quickly. He glances around the fire, noticing how many of the Pogues had wandered off, heading home or into the woods with different people for the night, and he suddenly sees his opportunity.

You, hunched over by the shore, throwing up. You had gotten really drunk, drinking beer after beer, and even sipping directly from a vodka bottle that Kiara brought. Rafe had hoped that your incessant intoxication would cause your body, or even your gaze, to find its way over to him, but it didn’t. You kept hanging onto that stupid asshole John B, both arms wrapped around his neck as you sat on his lap next to the bonfire. Rafe watched from afar as John B fed you s’mores, holding your chin in his hand to help you chew, gripping the beer bottle in his hands so tight he thought it would snap. 

Rafe excuses himself from Topper and Kelce as he makes his way over to you, hands in his pockets. He can’t help but feel excited about your vulnerable state, all alone and sequestered away from your stupid Pogue friends. He stands behind you and watches, looking at the way your thighs look in your shorts before speaking, “You alright?”

You stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. Even after vomiting three times, you’re not any less drunk. “Mhm. Peachy.”

He watches you, a slight hint of concern in his eyes. You were really drunk, and you looked like you might collapse at any moment. Your balance was definitely off, which was clear the second you attempted to stand straight. “You want some water?”

You nod, stumbling towards him. You hit his chest, resting against it as your eyes close. “Please.”

His hands instinctively go to your hips, stabilising you against him so you don’t fall. His gaze travels over you, looking at your flushed face and your glassy eyes. So fucking drunk, and so fucking vulnerable. “Sit down a sec, angel. You’re gonna fall over.”

You let out a soft grunt as you sit in the sand, hands going down to dig into it to support yourself. “Okay.”

Rafe squats down next to you, looking out at the waves as they crash against the sand. He glances over at you, seeing how your big eyes were flitting around, unable to focus on one thing. You were so drunk, so out of it, so vulnerable, and he loved it more than anything. “You’re really smashed, huh?” He hands you a half empty water bottle, having drank most of it earlier. It was warm, and the lid was coated in sand, but you didn't seem to even notice.

You eagerly drink the rest of the water, swishing some in your mouth and spitting towards the shore before crunching the bottle in your hands, struggling to recap it. “Mhm. But that’s the point of a party.”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to have a good time. But you’re supposed to stay lucid, not get so trashed that all you can do is throw up and stumble around.” He takes the crushed water bottle from you, putting it aside before turning to face you again, kneeling in the sand.

Your eyes meet his, yet you’re looking right through him, barely registering what’s going on around you. You reach out and grab him, yanking him towards you, his hands falling to the sand on either side of your hips. Your faces are so close. “You’re pretty.”

Rafe grins, leaning forward a bit so that he was almost nose to nose with you, letting his gaze run over your face. You were so out of it, so out of control, so out of your mind, and he loved it, loving the far off look in your eyes. He felt so powerful knowing that he could have you, could do anything he wanted to and have you unable to deny him. It would be so easy to push you back against the sand, to hold you down and make you beg for him. He lets out a low, breathy laugh, his eyes still trained on yours. “Yeah? You think I’m pretty?”

“So pretty,” You mumble, reaching out to hold onto his biceps. “Prettiest guy ever.”

His lips curl into a smug smirk when you bring your hands to his arms. He moves his hands from the sand and rests them on your thighs, fingers trailing over the exposed skin as he moves to kneel between your legs. He was so close to you now, he could just move forward and kiss you. But he loves this, loves being so close that he could have you, loves how drunk you were, loves how all your inhibitions were gone right now. He loved the way you were looking at him. “Yeah? Prettiest guy on Kildare?”

“Prettiest guy in North Carolina,” You say, lightly scratching your nails on his biceps. “Prettiest guy in America.”

Rafe’s gaze darkens as your fingernails scrape at his biceps, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward, closer to you. You were so cute, so out of it, and you were here with him. You were calling him pretty and letting him touch you when you were normally so stubborn and headstrong. He knew if you weren’t as drunk, you’d be pushing him away, telling him to leave you alone, but you weren’t, and he takes advantage of that. He wants to take advantage of you. He leans closer, his nose bumping against yours. “Yeah? The whole United States?”

You nod. “Yeah. Whole world, probably,” Rafe hums in satisfaction, his face still right next to yours, your nose touching his. He lets his gaze travel over your face, taking in the beautiful lines of your features, your big, glassy eyes, your flushed cheeks. He loves how vulnerable you are right now, how trusting and affectionate you are, his touch-starved self revelling in any attention you give him. One hand moves from your thigh, pushing some hair behind your ear. You swallow hard. “Wanna kiss you so bad. I always wanna kiss you.”

God, you’re so honest when you’re drunk, it makes his cock throb. “You do, angel? You wanna kiss me?” His hand moves to your cheek, gently brushing over your skin, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. One touch was all it would take to kiss you, a small jerk forward would be enough, and he desperately wants to. You bite your lip, still staring straight through him before leaning forward and kissing him, one hand going to the nape of his neck.

Rafe’s eyes widen as you lean in and kiss him. His jaw tenses, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets go, letting himself fall into the kiss. He reaches forward, grabbing you and practically pulling you into his lap. Your lips were so soft, so perfect, just how he thought they would be, and he lets out a sigh, his hand burying itself in your hair. You shift in his lap, pressing your chest against his, deepening the kiss. He lets out an almost desperate whimper when you press your chest against his, his hands sliding to your hips, moving you in his lap so that you’re straddling him, sitting on his thick thighs as he continues to kiss you. He pulls away, tongue brushing against yours. “You’re so perfect, baby.”

“Mhm…” You lean back, your head spinning. “Johnny…”

Rafe’s heart stops, just for a second.

Johnny?

His grip tightens on your hips as he racks his brain, trying to figure out who the fuck Johnny is--

John B. 

You were hanging all over him at the party, sitting in his lap and letting him feed you s’mores. You thought he was John B.

You whine and squirm in his lap, feeling your stomach churn. He can hear the whine in your voice, feel the way you squirm as your gut revolts from the amount of alcohol you’ve had. “What’s wrong, baby? You feel sick?” He knew the answer, of course, seeing how pale your face was getting. 

You nod and Rafe lets you up, looking over his shoulder as you vomit again onto the shore line. He stands, turning to face you. You thought he was John B this entire time. Were you and John B dating? Did he have no chance with you? Would you even remember this come tomorrow? He goes to step towards you as you vomit again when he hears someone calling your name. He looks back over his shoulder to see JJ and Pope heading down the dune, looking for you.

“What the fuck are you doing here with her?” Pope asks him as JJ rushes over to you, holding your hair back as you vomit again.

Rafe doesn’t hesitate, shooting a glare at Pope. “Just having a conversation.” His gaze lingers on JJ as he holds your hair back. “You guys taking her home? She’s pretty smashed.”

“Why do you care?” JJ asks, wiping your mouth for you.

“Just curious, why are you getting defensive?” He watches as JJ holds your face tenderly, looking after you, and he feels the overwhelming wave of jealousy again, although he doesn’t know why. He’s never felt this possessive of someone before, never had strong feelings before, and seeing another man touch you, care for you, is really pissing him off. “God forbid I want someone to be okay, Maybank.”

“Don’t worry about her, man,” Pope says, joining JJ at your side. “None of your concern.”

He bites his tongue, hard. He didn’t want to start a fight, not with you being sick and your stupid friends acting like this. But god dammit, he really wanted to punch Pope, throw him right to the ground and kick him over and over until he was spitting up blood and guts. “Yeah, no, not worrying anymore. You handle her, then.”

“We will,” Pope says, helping you walk back towards the parking lot. “Later, asshole.”

Rafe sighs as you disappear from sight, kicking the sand. “Fuck.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe can’t get you out of his head. Not on his drive away from The Boneyard, not while he continues the party at Topper’s place, and not when he’s finally at home in his bed. He tosses and turns for a while, thinking about your lips against his and the way you felt in his lap, the way your skin felt under his fingers. Your little whines and whimpers play over and over in his head.

He feels himself growing harder as he flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Fuck,” he groans, running a hand through his hair. He reaches over and grabs his phone, unplugging it as he unlocks it. He pulls his boxers down, tucking them underneath his balls as he scrolls through his apps. He clicks on Instagram, heading to the search bar, before pausing. Shit. He didn’t know your last name. He sighs, switching over to his burner account and types JJ’s username into the search bar, @jj.maybankofficial. Little fucker had blocked him months ago. He clicks on JJ’s following list and types in your first name, and for a second he panics, half expecting nothing to show up.

But then he sees you.

Your profile is set to public. How convenient. How cute.

He scrolls through your photos, cock fully hardened, pre-cum already dripping from his tip. He finds a few he likes, screenshotting them for later, before finding one that makes his cock throb against his stomach. The photo of is of you in a bikini, holding a smoothie bowl, and smiling into the camera. One of the cups of your bikini is slightly pushed to the side, revealing some of your nipple.

Rafe's breath hitches as he stares at the picture on his phone. “Fuck... Look at those tits,” He mumbles, stroking faster. He leans forward, propping his phone up on his chest as he watches the photo intently. His other hand moves between his legs, and he fondles with his balls, cupping and squeezing them. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, making it easier to stroke. “Yeah, that's it,” he grunts, eyes locked on your face in the screen. “Such a pretty little thing.” Rafe keeps jerking himself off, moaning softly as he strokes faster. The hand that was on his balls reaches up, rubbing at one of his nipples, pinching and twisting it. He rolls his hips up, thrusting his hips into his hand. He can't help but imagine what it would be like if he was fucking you instead, your tight little pussy wrapped around his cock.

He cums embarrassingly quickly, cumming all over his phone screen, right on your pretty little face. He slumps back against his pillow, panting heavily as he comes down from his high. He wipes his sticky hand across his chest, smearing some of the cum onto his abs. He locks his phone and sets it aside, breathing heavily as his cock softens.

It isn’t enough. You’ve corrupted him, and he can’t stop thinking about you, and it isn’t long before he’s hard again. He needs more, he needs something different. “God dammit,” he mumbles, picking his phone back up. He unlocks it before going onto Google, typing in his favourite porn site and scrolling through the top search results, trying to find a girl that looks like you.

He finds a girl that looks close enough, starring in a video titled ‘Hot slut gets fucked rough by her brother’s best friend!!’. He tries so hard to jerk off to it, and although his cock is hard and leaking pre-cum, he can’t get into it. The lighting sucks, the angle is bad, and the girl is so loud and annoying. He exits the video and closes his phone, groaning as he lets go of his cock. Rafe stares back up at the ceiling, feeling his cock twitch against his stomach as it starts to soften.

This wasn’t working. He needed more.

Rafe sits up, digging through his bedside table, and pulls out a small dime bag of coke and a small pocket mirror. He pours some out carefully, smoothing it out and making one single line with his credit card. He sets the credit card down and grabs a dollar bill from his wallet, rolling it up tight. He keeps thinking about you, his mind going back to the way your ass looked in your shorts tonight and the way you clung onto him. He sets the mirror down on his bedside table before snorting the whole line in one go. The cocaine burns as it enters his nose, the effects kicking in within minutes as his head starts to rush. His eyes flutter closed, and he leans back against the wall, the high hitting him hard.

Rafe needed you. 

Fuck. He was going to regret this.

He stands up with a grunt, pulling his boxers back up. He was still hard as fuck, the coke definitely not helping. He digs through his dresser and pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, putting them on before slipping his shoes on and grabbing his keys. He rushes out of Tanneyhill, heading down the driveway towards his truck. He hops in, completely forgetting his seatbelt as he puts his keys in the ignition, turning the car on and pulling out of his driveway. He drives along the streets, the adrenaline making the cocaine even more intense. He knows he’s probably too high to be driving a vehicle, but he can’t help himself, he needs you. He keeps his gaze fixed on the road ahead as he drives, his mind swimming with images of you. 

It’s a 15-minute trip to the south side of the island, and soon he realises that he doesn’t know where you live. Rafe sighs, grabbing his phone from his pocket. He’s a powerful man with powerful connections. He scrolls through his contacts, tapping on a name. It rings a couple of times before someone picks up on the other side. “Yeah?” the voice on the other end asks, sounding exhausted.

“Hey, Agent Peterkin,” Rafe says. “It’s Rafe. Ward’s son?”

“Yeah, I know who you are, kid. What is it?” The annoyance in her tone was obvious.

“Listen, I uh…” Rafe sighs. “I need help finding someone’s address. They were at my party tonight, and they were pretty drunk, so I just wanted to check on them.”

There’s a long pause from the other end of the phone, and Rafe can hear the creaking of a chair as she shifts her weight. “Whose address, kid?” Rafe gives her your name, hands gripping the steering wheel as he hears her typing away.

There are a few more pauses of silence, the clicking of the keyboard, before she responds. “Got it, I texted it to you. Anything else you wanna tell me?”

“Does she have a record, or?” Rafe asks. “I'm just trying to stay clean, you know. Like we talked about.”

She lets out a humourless laugh. “No, she’s clean. Parents are clean, too. Nothing to be concerned about. You’ve been staying away from coke like you said, right?”

“Of course I am, Agent Peterkin,” Rafe says. “Alright, thanks for your help. Have a good night.”

Peterkin sighs, knowing that she doesn’t believe him for a second. “Behave yourself,” is all she responds with before she hangs up. 

Rafe opens the text thread, finding your address. He clicks on it, and it opens up the map app on his phone. It’s not far, only 5 more minutes, down the street from The Chateau.

He feels himself grinning, his heart rate picking up as he gets closer, knowing that he was going to see you again soon. He drives a little bit faster than he should, turning onto the road your house is on before pulling up outside. He stares at the house, his gaze flitting from window to window, trying to figure out which window was your bedroom. He parks his truck down the street, walking through the darkness towards your house.

It was small. Cute. Looked easy to break into.

Rafe checks the windows, finding them all locked with the curtains drawn. He tries your front door, which is locked as well. He moves around to the back of the house, walking past your backyard and finding the back door. He carefully walks up the stairs, hand on the doorknob. He takes a deep breath before twisting it.

It opens.

He grins triumphantly, silently pushing it open and walking through the dark house. He shuts the door behind him, glancing around. He had to remind himself to go slow, to stay steady. You weren’t his yet, but you would be. He slowly makes his way through the dark house, looking around for anything to tell him where your room was. He opens one of the doors and peeks in, but finds your parents both asleep, the TV on low. He carefully shuts the door before heading down the hallway towards the second closed door.

He slowly pushed open the door to your room, breathing out when he sees the bed. His gaze travels over the walls, the decorations, the furniture. There’s a small light on your bedside table, casting a soft golden glow over your skin. He walks towards the bed, sitting on the edge, watching you sleep. You were out like a light, completely unaware that he was here, watching you. You looked so perfect when you were asleep, so peaceful, curled up on your side wearing a thin tank top and tiny little pyjama shorts. He gently reached out, letting his fingers trail over your soft cheek.

He feels his cock harden again.

“Okay,” He breathes out softly as he slowly, carefully flips you over onto your back. You shift around and mumble, but you don’t wake up. He lets out a shaky breath, untying his sweatpants and pushing them down around his knees. He pulls his cock out, his boxers resting underneath his balls.

You shift again, wiggling around on the bed, throwing your arms over your head. You’re still asleep.

Rafe freezes, heart pounding in his chest as he watches you move in your sleep. His cock twitches, throbbing in his hand as he imagines what it would feel like when he first pushes into you, feeling your warm wetness envelop him. He leans closer, slowly trailing a finger down your neck, across your collarbone, and along the swell of your breast. He cups your breast in his palm, thumb brushing over your nipple as it hardens under his touch. A soft whimper escapes your lips, but you remain unconscious, lost in slumber. He pushes your tank top up carefully, revealing your stomach, so soft and just begging to be covered in kisses. If he lifted your shirt any higher he would risk waking you.

Rafe's breathing grows ragged as he continues to explore your body, mapping every curve and contour. He wants to memorise you, to claim every inch of you as his own. And he will, in time. He squeezes his cock before starting to brush his fingers over the tip. He starts to jerk off again, panting softly, his free hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up slightly to give him better access. His fingers brush over your inner thigh, teasing you through your thin pyjama shorts. He rubs his thumb over your clothed slit, feeling how warm you are. His movements become more erratic, faster, chasing his release as he imagines burying himself inside you and cumming, claiming you as his own, as his little angel. His hand starts to speed up as his fingers drift over to your face, dragging them across your lips. He didn’t want to wake you up, but fuck he wanted to touch you more.

He suddenly stops touching you, leaning back as he grips his cock tighter, his free hand going to fondle his balls, stroking furiously as he cums all over your stomach, groaning quietly, whispering your name over and over. He pants softly, wiping the cum off on your pyjamas before tucking himself away and fixing his clothes. He glances at you once more before slipping out of the room, leaving as quietly as he came. He pauses at the end of the hall, glancing back one last time before forcing himself to leave, knowing he'd be back again soon enough. He couldn't get enough of you, and he knew that no matter how many times he snuck in to watch you sleep or touched himself while imagining all the filthy things he wanted to do to you, he would always come back for more. You were his, whether you knew it or not. His obsession. His angel. His everything. And one day, he'd make sure everyone else knew it too.

Especially that fucker John B.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe smirks at the horrified look on your face. “That’s how we met, baby. You don’t remember?”

You squirm violently, trying to push him away, although your body is still lethargic. “You’re sick, Rafe.”

He rolls his eyes, holding you down against his chest. “Please. You’re the one who told me I was pretty.” He teases, resting his chin on the top of your head as he keeps you pinned in his lap.

“I thought you were John B,” You say, defending yourself. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“But it was me,” He says, burying his nose in your hair. “You think I’m pretty.” He repeats, nuzzling your neck before pulling back and running his fingers through your hair, feeling how soft it is. 

“You can’t do this, Rafe,” You say, eyes starting to well with hot, shameful tears. “You can’t keep me here!”

“But I can,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him, smiling softly at the look of fear in your eyes. You looked so beautiful when you were scared of him. “And I will keep you here. I’ve come to take what’s mine.”

He leans in close, biting your earlobe. “You can’t run from me forever.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

i'm sorry that the ending is kinda blah. i didn't know what to do lol.

part three is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my obx taglist here!

[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 2 - Overstimualtion - CL16

Charles Leclerc X Reader

TW

WC - 1200+

Y/N POV

Laying in bed I hear the front door of my shared apartment door open. Making me sit up a little knowing I was supposed to be alone for another night before Charles was due home.

It doesn't take long before Charles appears in the front door of our bedroom which has me getting up and rushing towards him. After not seeing him for a few weeks I can barely believe he's finally home.

Due to the busy schedule both of us have had we haven't been able to see each other since he left for a triple header.

"You're early," I whisper into his neck which makes him chuckle a little.

"I wanted to surprise you! Max offered to leave a day early knowing how much I had missed you," Charles explains making me smile.

I lean up and place a few kisses on Charles's soft lips before pulling back and smiling at him.

"I've missed you so much," I tell him with a smile.

"I've missed you too," Charles tells me before kissing me again.

It doesn't take either of us very long before our clothes are scattered around the room with me in the center of the bed and Charles on top making out with me.

"Please, cha," I whine out looking for any kind of stimulation possible.

"What do you want cherie?" Charles questions while pulling back slightly and watching me attempt to grind into his hard cock.

"Touch me," I whisper out making him smirk at me. Charles slowly starts trailing his mouth down my jaw and neck before settling on my tits and playing with my nipples.

Charles knows how sensitive my nipples can be when I'm worked up so it was no surprise when I started grinding into him harder knowing I was chasing an orgasm almost entirely built from my nipple stimulation.

"Cha I might cum," I warn out which has him sucking and pinching my nipple a bit harder.

"Oh, fuck," I moan out before allowing myself to fall over the edge for the first time since he left weeks ago.

I start shaking lightly while Charles slowly makes his way down to my soaked pussy knowing I was nowhere near done cumming for him.

He instantly starts diving into my sopping pussy making me moan out. While the orgasm was nowhere near the most powerful orgasm I have ever had I'm starting to get the early signs of overstimulation but instead of the twinge of pain I normally felt all I felt was pure pleasure when Charles sank two fingers into my dripping hole.

"Fuck Charles," I moan out when he instantly hits my G spot.

Charles switches between licking my swollen clit and pulling it into his mouth to suck on it. Whatever action he is doing on my clit never once slows down the movements of his fingers shoved into my pussy.

"Charles, shit, of fuck," I moan out cumming before I can give any form of warning. Charles helps me ride out my second orgasm of the night, but never once stops even when my orgasm is over. I'm starting to feel the overstimulation which has me wiggling to get out of his grip but he never once lets up on my pussy.

Thankfully it doesn't take long for the slight pain to turn into pure pleasure all over again. My third orgasm hits me like a train out of nowhere leaving me a shaking mess while Charles lets off on my clit but continues to fuck me hard with his fingers.

"Charles fuck, something," I whine at the new type of pleasure starting to build deep in my stomach. I can't even finish my sentence before Im cumming all over Charles's face. When I look down I notice Charles's face is covered in my juices which has my face growing red in embarrassment.

"Fuck, sorry Charles," I gasp out in shock. I had never once squirted before which had me thinking it wasn't real.

"Don't apologize, that was the hottest thing I have ever witnessed," Charles replies back before digging back into my pussy like it was his last meal was ever going to eat.

"Charles, I can't," I whine out from the over whelming stimulation I was currently experiencing.

One of Charles's favorite things has always been overstimulating me especially when we are apart from each other. However, I have never felt this level of stimulation before.

"Too much," I whine out when I feel another orgasm start to build.

"Give me another," Charles mumbles out into my pussy and if I wasn't so hyper focused on him I probably wouldn't have been able to make out what he was saying.

It doesn't take me long before I'm cumming all over Charles's face again. While I didn't squirt this time the orgasm was one of the most overwhelming feelings I had ever experienced.

"Amour, no more please," I beg out which has Charles chucking a little before he licks from my dripping hole to my over worked clit which has me twitching at the feeling and whining to hope that Charles will give me a break.

"Can you give me one more?" Charles asks while pulling himself back up so we are face to face. I'm still coming down from my last orgasm that I can barely process what Charles is asking of me.

"Yeah," I whisper out softly not trusting my voice at the moment.

Charles instantly leans down and starts making out with me allowing me to taste all of my juices that are on his lips, making me moan softly.

"You're as sweet as ever, Cherie," Charles mumbles against my lips.

I start to feel Charles tease my clit with his tip which has me whining from the overstimulation I was still feeling. Once Charles finally sinks his cock into my still-soaked hole I gasp out at the feeling of being full for the first time in awhile.

"Feel so good," I tell Charles encouraging him to speed up his actions.

"So tight. Have you touched yourself at all while I've been gone?" Charles groans out through clenched teeth.

It was an unspoken understanding that I never touched myself while Charles was gone because it never felt half as good when I did it myself.

I shake my head no which has Charles speeding up his actions to a brutal pace, making it clear that Charles also had some pent-up frustrations he was finally letting out.

"You're gonna cum with me," Charles tells me sternly while still fucking me and reaching his hand between us and playing with my stiff and sensitive clit which has me almost instantly cumming all over Charles's dick which then triggers Charles to start cumming deep into my pussy.

"Fuck," Charles moans out while still buried deep in me.

Once both of us have finally come down from our strong orgasms Charles is slowly climbing out of the bed to grab a rag and clean up the mess the both of us have made.

Once we are both cleaned up Charles picks me up bridal style and carries me into our guest room.

"I'll clean the mess tomorrow," Charles lets me know when he climbs into bed and pulls me against his chest where we both fall asleep almost instantly.