#is it now that im gonna write the outside looking in post?

[lover-of-mine]

something something in outside looking in Buck kept holding on to the "front" door because Eddie wouldn't let him in and he didn't want to push him beyond what he was ready to share and that led him to have to break a door down to get to Eddie after he broke down something something in ashes ashes Buck took the back door because he wasn't going to let Eddie shut him out and risk missing the signs that Eddie is falling apart again something something

[ghostlynimbus]

I am going to try and do some writing today

[delulujuls]

healing sessions | aegon II targaryen

hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.

this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)

and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs

pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen

The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.

Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.

Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.

To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.

Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.

After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.

"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."

"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.

Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.

Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.

Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.

The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.

Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.

After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.

"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."

He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."

"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.

Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.

"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."

Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.

"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.

"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."

"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."

"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.

"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.

"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.

Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.

For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.

"Did you bring strawberries?"

She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.

"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.

"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.

Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.

"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.

"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.

Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.

"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

He also shrugged.

"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."

Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.

He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.

"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."

Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.

"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.

"I miss you, you know?"

"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.

"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.

Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.

Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.

"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.

"Not quite yet," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.

When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.

"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.

She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."

Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.

"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."

The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.

She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.

When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.

"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.

Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.

"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."

It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.

She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.

"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."

She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.

Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.

The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.

Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.

"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.

Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.

At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.

Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.

"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.

[planetpiastri]

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader [no faceclaim] summary: you're a meme rapper with a cult following on youtube, and oscar is always in your comments, but it isn't until you release your first single that everyone puts two and two together. notes: this is one of the very first requests i ever received, and finally FINALLY it is done!! we are so back

liked by oscarpiastri, patriciooward, and others

ynusername guys if i wrote a song about dino nuggets would you unfollow me be honest

view all 1,458 comments

username1 yeah

ynusername 😔

oscarpiastri no

ynusername 😁

username2 maybe

ynusername i'm getting mixed signals

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, and 502,876 others

oscarpiastri Oscar goes outside: Japan edition

view all 8,482 comments

username3 you're not even outside in any of these pictures oscar what

landonorris who are we getting dinner with, young man? 🤨

oscarpiastri My mum 😊 landonorris yeah right

username4 omg any yn fans in the comments?? mother liked the post 👀

username5 yeah they follow each other lol i don't think they've ever met though username6 they've definitely interacted, but yeah i think they're just like online acquaintances haha

ynusername nice berries mate

oscarpiastri Thanks, I've heard that before

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri, and 251,876 others

mclaren Happy Birthday Oscar! 🥳

view all 7,654 comments

username7 guys why's oscar kinda...

username8 WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??

oscarpiastri 😁😁😁

ynusername happy birthday. oscarpiastri Ok that's a lot of negative energy please step back username9 help these interactions are always so random??

username10 oscar's waist looking SNATCHED omg

username11 guys is this a safe space for me to confess something?

landonorris no, keep it to yourself

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and others

ynusername finally releasing a single woohoo!! 'bark bark' coming out april 19th on spotify and apple music ^-^

view all 1,874 comments

username12 OMG YESSSS

username13 WHAT YN THIS IS SO EXCITING!!!! CONGRATS!!!!!

oscarpiastri What's it about

ynusername you have to stream the song and find out silly oscarpiastri Is it about me ynusername oh my god

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others

ynusername the type of face you'd go to war for (look past the camera, he's shy)

view all 2,054 comments

landonorris shucks, i'm blushing

ynusername i am so obviously not talking about you

username14 NEW MUSIC WHEN??

ynusername the single JUST came out CHILL!

username15 the last slide??

username16 new music hint? ynusername no that's just me talking about oscar and lando landonorris ....which one am i? ynusername i literally called you a slut nine times in suzuka username17 so oscar is lust???? oscarpiastri Thank you Barbie!!

liked by mclaren, ynusername, and 516,392 others

oscarpiastri Busy busy week, but glad the secret's out. My girlfriend is cooler and funnier than yours, by the way.

view all 7,990 comments

ynusername you're so hot i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

ynusername the hair?? the smile?? the grabbable waist?? WOW!!

ynusername gonna write another song about you

ynusername if i saw you in the street i'd catcall you

ynusername i want you.

oscarpiastri I love you too

username18 FKSDHJGLKHDJG IM SO HAPPY YN CAN BE UNHINGED AND CRAZY NOW GOOD FOR HER GOOD FOR THEM!!

request: hiiii babe! i love ur account! i was wondering if u could do an oscar piastri x meme rapper gf with an @addy_kate fc. like shes actually really funny and her music is oddly good (like tmg).

tagging: @thearchieves @sheridamn @nikfigueiredo @charlig123456789 @ilove-tswizzle @aandreea2005 @sideboobrry @vellicora @eire-the-egg @marymustdie @cocote1410 @taygrls @koalapastries @vroomvroommuppett @nichmeddar @d3kstar @333kiki @ririyulife @resident-swiftie @zimm04 @jupiter-je-taime @ever_bizzare @blue-isnt-avaliable @iifloweringnightsii @graciewrote @formulaal @m0cha-bunny @marvelsimps @mehrmonga @elliegrey2803 @theblueblub @gwginnyweasley @sltwins @f1kenzzz @alexmarie29 @donttouchthegnote @clemswrld @hollieeelol @leireggsworld @luvvtrent @maddie-naps @lilcowboy0 @tygecjjd @skepvids @bwddermilch @pnkwhskyprncss @notawc @landossainz @janegxi @chaotic_version @lookatitlaterlol @cometsrodrigo @lizzypiastri @nixisracing @lavviee @yaesflorist

if you want to be added to any of my taglists, fill out this form

[cvntluver444]

i’m your girl - ellie williams

ellie 📸 creds - s9ession on pinterest (and tiktok)

ellie williams x reader, slight!abby x reader

₊* summary : after catching your girlfriend cheating on you, your best friend ellie offers a little more than some much needed quality time together.

₊* warnings : smut minors dni, language, cheating, dom!ellie 🤭 sub!reader, light spanking, abby and ellie tensionnnn, slight ellie x cat, reader uses she/her pronouns, intended lowercase, bad writing, not proof read. if i miss any please let me know!! 🤍

₊* a/n : EEEEK hi everyone! this is my FIRST EVER FIC! don’t be fooled though, i’ve been apart of this lovely community for years and have loved reading all of your lovely works!! i really wanted to try and give this a shot because im a hoe and i have some crazy thoughts that i think need to be shared (this one really isn’t crazy this is like the third thing i’ve written so we are going to ease into it 🫡)

anyways i am so excited to share my first fic! it would mean the world if you guys left some positive feedback or constructive criticism so i know how to grow!! i’m also looking for new friends since i don’t post on here so if you want to be friends hmu 😋 i love you all!! again i hope beauties enjoy!!

🇵🇸 as always, please keep spreading information and support for Palestine! 🇵🇸

▹ daily click

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

walking back from a study sesh, your bubbly laugh fills the halls of dorm as your best friend her story of a disastrous hookup.

“oh my god, ellie. that would happen to you,” you huff out, trying hard to calm yourself down. ellie chuckles while smiling down at you. “i can’t believe cat said a different name!” you couldn’t stop you laughter as ellie explained the awkward interacting with cat. your laugh was her favorite sound in the whole world, which is why she always loved to tweak her stories just a bit. she knew just about everything about you, so of course she knew what made you come undone in a fit a laughter. so maybe cat didn’t actually say someone else’s name. maybe ellie said someone else’s name. maybe she said your name. but you don’t have to know that.

“yeah ya know” she shrugs a bit and pauses. “maybe she just isn’t right for me,” ellie shrugs nonchalantly. “anyways, is abby gonna be in the room?” ellie questions.

“yeah hope that’s okay with you, i didn’t tell her we were coming back so early so she will probably just be in our room and out somewhere,” you explain, as you reached for your dorm room keys. living with your girlfriend in the same dorm room would have some calling you a bit risky, but you never had any doubts with your relationship with abby. you’ve been together for a year now, you trusted her, she treated you good, and you were even kind of starting to picture your life together. however; that daydream becomes a distant afterthought as soon as you open the door of your dorm room. in front of you is your, now ex-girlfriend, naked and on top of none other than the infamous cat who ellie has talked your ear off about.

“what the fuck” you whisper out, your voice coming out raspy as your eyes quickly start swelling up with tears and your throat swells up. abby and cats giggles soon turn into gasps and their heads fly towards your direction. you feel ellie come to your side and put her arm on your back. “why don’t we just step outside quick, baby,” ellie sadly begs you, her voice full of sympathy, but also anger. how could anyone take advantage of such a beautiful girl. her gaze lands right on a worries looking abby who is rushing to put her clothes back on.

“baby no wait look please just give me a sec let me explain it’s not what it looks like,” abby rambles out a bullshit story but you can’t hear anything around you. your tears now rapidly falling.

“what- what- what the fu-fuck abby!” at this point, you can’t control any emotions. it’s impossible to try and stop any tears now. you’re defeated, hurt, and feeling betrayed. you quickly spew out a few choice words at the two girls rushing to get dressed, but slowly relax and fall into the tall body next to you. she gently grabs your arm and drags you out the door, whispering apologizes and begging for you to focus on her as you still throw some daggers at abby. finally clothed, abby forgets all about the girl she was just fingers deep in and rushes out the door towards you.

“hey hey hey please just wait please” abby calls your name as ellie continues to guide you towards her dorm. you can’t even look at her as you continue to cuddle into ellie, who’s arm is gently placed around your figure, shielding you from your panicking ex.

“just fuck off abby you’ve done enough give her some space” ellie turns to yell towards the blonde who’s still right on your tail.

“you can shut the fuck up and stay out of this williams” abby barks back. “this is between me and her, and the last time i checked, she wasn’t your girlfriend.” ellie’s hearts cracks a little at the sentence, wanting none other to call you hers.

“well after the way you just cheated on her, i don’t think she will be yours very soon either,” ellie smirks. abby and ellie get pretty angry pretty fast, spewing out nasty things about each other and who can treat you the best. you were going to go insane. all you wanted to do in this moment was cry.

“ellie?” suddenly, ellie stops at the soft voice that just called her name. she saw you, teary-eyed, staring at her with the most heartbroken look on her face. her eyes softened and jaw unclenched. her heart broke at the sight of you, but still could not get over the fact that you still looked angelic. “can we please go?” you didn’t even have to ask ellie twice. she nodded her head and gave you a quiet ‘of course’ with a sympathetic smile on her face, but didn’t leave without staring the girl in front of her down. she then turned towards you and flung her arms over your shoulder. leaning her head on yours, you two walked together back to ellie’s room.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the usual 5-minute walk back to ellie’s dorm felt like hours as it become harder and harder to hold back your tears. ellie didn’t speak one word to you, she understood that all you wanted in this moment was to be silent, knowing that if you opened your mouth once, you would burst out into tears again.

as you two reached her room, she gave a soft “hold on baby” and slowly released her grip on yours so she could unlock her door. you two entered an empty room thanks to dina, ellie’s roommate, visiting jesse at his campus. as much as you loved dina, you were so thankful you could just be alone with your best friend and cry. as soon as you heard ellie shut the door, it was exactly what you did.

as soon as she heard your heartbreaking sobs, ellie quickly rushed over to your side and engulfing you with her toned arms. she shushed you quickly and rocked back and forth, doing everything in her power to try and somehow make your beautiful face smile again.

“i can’t fucking believe her” you finally speak up after several minutes of silence and sniffles. ellie looks over at you, startled after not hearing your voice in a while. “we were together for over a year, we were literally living together in the same fucking room, like, where does she think i’m gonna go now? i’m not living there anymore i fucking hate her!” your sadness has now turned into rage and your slowly growing louder as your rant goes on.

“hey hey hey,” ellie tried to calm you down. “don’t worry about all that now, okay baby? you’re gonna stay with me, and you me and dina are gonna have a big slumber party and have pillow fights and make cookies and talk about boys.” ellie’s joke works miracles and brings a small smile on your face and a little giggle reaches ellie’s ears.

“there she is,” ellie smiles. “i missed that beautiful laugh.” you can’t help but get a little flustered at her comment. now that you were done with abby, your relationship was quickly forgotten when you remembered just how much you were in love with ellie before. you always thought she was so beautiful, and of course she always treated you like a princess.

when you finally worked up enough courage to speak, a quiet “i’m sorry, ellie” left your lips.

“what are you apologizing for baby?” ellie asks you with a confused look on her face. in the moment of catch your girlfriend fucking another girl, you totally forgot all about your own best friend and her crush, and how she was probably going through the same emotions as you right now.

“i’ve been being so selfish. i’ve only been thinking about me and my relationship that i completely forgot about your obsession with cat” you sadly smile and give her an apologetic look. you remembered all the times that ellie would gush about cat with you

“cats skirt looks so good” ellie seductively says to you while you grab your things out of your locker. you glance over to where cat was talking to two other friends at a locker bay across from the two of you. it is pretty cute you thought to yourself. you frown looking down at yours. just a plain boring white skirt.

or that one time when you two were putting off studying in your deserted dorm room

“wait stop scrolling! there! yes! let’s watch that one.” you questioned her on her choice because it was your favorite movie too and you didn’t think she would ever like it, considering she laughed in your face when you told her about it. “oh um i know yo- um it’s cats favorite movie.” ellie saves herself from almost admitting to you that she may have done a little too much stalking that night and found out a couple of your favorite things.

or the night of the frat party, the night ellie’s compliment to cat broke your heart so much, you’d call it one of the worst nights of your life.

“ok now my turn stop hogging,” you giggle at ellie and she shoves you away from the blunt. she finally hands it over and take a hit. you look around at the view of campus from on top of the frat house. “it’s sooo pretty up here, els.” you giggle as you blow the smoke out. ellie chuckles with you and you two burst into laughing. “oh my god how high are we,” you squeak out “ellie look and tell me how red my eyes are.” you’re suddenly staring straight at ellie, and in her haze she lets out a small ‘woah’.

“i uh i mean uh-“ she stutters out as you question what she meant and furrowed your brows. “i mean i was just looking into your eyes and thinking about cat,” she spews out “you know she just has eyes just like yours,” your small smile falls suddenly and confused brows now turn downwards. “uh yeah cats eyes you know they’re like a beautiful uh” while ellie tries to think, she then stares at you again and describes your eyes. cat has eyes like mine? i could’ve sworn they were different. your cloudy mind is not sober enough to realize what’s actually happening, instead your heart breaks even more, thinking that ellie has probably stared into cats eyes so many times she’s pinpointed every detail about them. once you two tossed out the blunt over the roof, you headed back downstairs together. still hurt with ellie’s rambles, you quickly get away from her as soon as your in the clear, leading you to meet abby. why is the worst time if it led you to meet your girlfriend? well, before the cheating, you would’ve had no idea why.

ellie’s hand in front of your face brings you back to reality, which is not fun. ellie is still sitting next to you on the couch and you have to ask her to repeat what she said.

“i was asking what you were apologizing for, baby. you were the one that got cheated on, not me.” ellie chuckles, but slowly realizes what she said. she see your eyes drop down again and the sadness returns to your face. while she’s quickly trying to come up with something to say to save herself, she stops when you stand upnn

“is it ok if i go use your bathroom real quick?” you sadly ask ellie, and she nods with a small smile on her face. you give her a quiet thanks and walk towards the shared restroom of ellie and dina. ellie brings her hands to her head and scolds herself. if you’re trying to make her feel better and give her a hint, this is NOT the right way to do it. she couldn’t shove down her feeling forever, but she also did not want to confess and risk losing you completely. she tried to clear her mind and think about what dina or jesse would tell her to do in this situation. while trying to focus, she could hear you shuffling around in the bathroom. she knew why you were really in there, she wasn’t stupid. thinking about that just made her feel ten times more guilty. she knew what to do.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

as soon as you go into the bathroom you lock the door and force the tears welling in your eyes to go away. you decided to wash your face with cold water to try and snap yourself out of your emotional roller coaster. you dry your face with the hand towel and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. you were still in so much shock at the events that happened tonight. you take in your messed up appearance and cringe. your bloodshot red eyes were not a pretty sight, and neither was the smudged mascara scattered underneath your eyes. you hope ellie wouldn’t be too grossed out by the way you look right now.

huhhhh?

woah okay the feelings are for sure back. you try to get yourself to look less dead inside by washing your face a couple more times. you opened the bathroom door and slowly walked back out to the couch. you sit back down next to her and put a blanket around yourself, meanwhile she is mindlessly scrollings through netflix trying to find something to watch before she stops on none other than you (and cats) favorite movie.

“oh hey what about this one” she looks over at you with a little smile on her face. you give her a confused look as to why she suggested this one, knowing it was cats favorite movie too.

“but, ellie, won’t that make you, i don’t know, sad?” you question. now she’s the one giving you confused looks.

“why is it like a sad movie or something? i didn’t think it was. i thought we could watch it because it’s your favorite movie and i thought it would make you feel a little bit better,” she smiles back. now you’re even more confused. for starters, she told you it was cats favorite movie, and also, you don’t even remember telling her it was your favorite.

“how’d you know?” you asked her. she replied with a little huh and you asked again. “how’d you know this was my favorite movie? i don’t think i told you that, and i thought it would make you sad because you told me before it was cats favorite movie.” ellie’s face suddenly turns from confused, to scared almost. she stated stuttering and couldn’t form a single word.

after a couple second of struggling, ellie says your name. “it’s not cats favorite movie. i don’t even know cats favorite movie. in fact, i actually don’t know a lot about cat in general.” she looks at you with an almost scared look. now she just completely lost you. when she realizes you still haven’t caught on, she finally begins to explain what she means after a long pause.

“it was never cat”. the room suddenly gets loud, very loud. your ears start to ring and your breath leaves your throat. you couldn’t believe it, again. the whole time you were pushing away your feelings for ellie, she was trying to do the same with her feelings about you. suddenly, you start thinking back to all the moments when you thought ellie was crushing on cat. slowly, more dots start connecting.

you glance over to where cat was talking to two other friends at a locker bay across from the two of you. it is pretty cute you thought to yourself. you frown looking down at yours. just a plain boring white skirt. you’re not the only one looking though. if you would’ve turned around to face your best friend again, you would’ve seen her also looking at your ‘plain boring white skirt’, grateful that she quickly replaced ‘your skirt’ with ‘cat’.

or that other night, after the blunt, when you were crying your eyes out to abby. ellie kicking herself outside and hoping, praying even, that you wouldn’t know the actual color of cats eyes, and that maybe you were even dumb enough to not know the specific details of your own (you were).

you wish you could go back and slap the old you in face, that way, you and ellie could’ve avoided this whole abby and cat mess and could’ve been together longer than you and abby ever would’ve been. now you’re staring up at, after she just confessed her feelings for you. you didn’t know what to say, well you did, you wanted to say that you felt the exact same was and you have since the day you met her, but you’re too slow so she keeps explaining to you.

“i’m sorry to bring it up, but when we walked in today, my heart broke. it didn’t break because i saw cat with another girl. it broke because i saw her with your girl, and i never knew anyone would ever be that fucking stupid to throw away someone as gorgeous, generous, and as selfless as you,” she pauses and you cry again for the millionth time tonight; however, this time the tears feel good. happy tears. she continues and says your name in the softest tone possible. “so again, it was never cat. it was you.”

“abby is not ‘my girl’” you cringe. ellie looks up at your quick response. “i always kind of hoped it was you.” you break apart your words, still scared to admit how you feel even though she just spilled her heart out. the response you got back though washed all your worries away.

“can i kiss you?” she asked quietly. you couldn’t believe it (x3). it was finally happening. every single event that happened up to this very moment has vanished from your mind. all you could think about was how you couldn’t nod your head yes faster. she gives you a beautiful grin before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and gently gripping our chin to pull you closer. at last, your lips touched and it was everything you imagined and more. after you two slowly made out for a couple minutes, taking a couple paused to breathe in between, the kisses started turning more aggressive. you jump as you felt a soft touch on ur upper thigh. you relaxed once she placed her full hand on you and rubbed it up and down. you let out a soft moan which made ellie groan and trail kisses down your neck. you whined as you suddenly felt her pull back. her eyes looked right into your eyes, and she placed her forehead against yours. you two panted as you stared into each others sinful gazes. silence took over for a while before ellie suddenly interrupted.

“can i take you to bed baby?” you bit you lip and nodded, your innocent eyes locked on hers. fuck, you were perfect. it made ellie’s iris’ turn black, and she slowly guided you to her room, littering your face with teasing kisses on the way there. she sat you down on the edge of the bed and got on her knees, lips never leaving yours. her hands caressed your thighs once more, rubbing outwards so that your legs slowly separate. your lips follow as she pulls away to see your skirt has ridden up and she smirks, staring directly at your wet panties. “oh baby” she groans, her focus fully on your clothed pussy, begging to be touched. you lean back and tilt your head so you’re staring up at the ceiling, eyes squeezing shut and a moan leaving your mouth as soon as you feel small kisses going up you thighs. “love those fucking sounds, baby. you’re so angelic.”

“el’s. t-touch me,” you beg, but she light slaps your thighs and gives you a couple disappointments tsks.

“sweetheart, you gotta ask nicer.” she pouts up at you, malice in her voice.

“please, el’s, i need you to t-touch me please” you drag out, embarrassed that she has you this worked up and she’s barely touching you yet. she smirks up at you and her kisses get more sloppy the higher she goes, and finally, her mouth is hovering above your cunt, her hot breath purposely breathing heavy. she loved watching you whine and jolt under her touch. how crazy she made you go even with just a couple kisses. she loves how much control she has over you, and how well you listen to her.

“lift up your shirt, pretty girl. wanna see you play with your tits while i eat this pussy.” her words alone make you want to cum, but then it would be over, so you pull yourself together and do as she said. out of no where, you felt a long lick up you pussy, you body tightening suddenly and letting out a humiliatingly loud moan. “that’s right, baby. let me hear you. do i make you feel good? hm?” you shake your head vigorously, staring down into her green eyes staring right back up at you. she now loops her arms around your legs and spreads them further, making you squeak. “fuck, such a pretty fucking pussy,” she moans, and slowly starts licking up and down continuously.

you’re a mess. one hand gripping her hair, trying to push her even more into you, making ellie grunt, her own panties quickly getting wet at how bad you wanna cum. your other hand is placed perfect cupping your left tit, playing with it just like ellie told you to.

“el’s you’re gonna make me cum,” you whine, your eyebrows furrowed and voice raspy. you look so fucking sexy right now, and ellie tries her hardest to take a mental picture for later.

“yeah? you gonna cum baby?” she teasingly asks you and you whimper out a mhm. once again speechless with the way ellie is slopingly eating your pussy.

you suddenly feel a finger teasing your entrance before it slowly slips in. your moans groan louder, and her pace quickens.

“el’s, ca- can i please?” you beg, the knot in your stomach was growing rapidly. she lifted her head up for less than one second, a stern ‘cum’ leaving her lips, before she returns back to where her tongue was. you scream as you do, vision going black as ellie fucks you though your orgasm, fingers now rubbing even faster on your clit, causing you to completely come undone and cum all over her face. she doesn’t stop until you’re shaking and overstimulating under her. when she does, the only sounds in the room are your quick pants, and ellie’s bed as she moves to scoot closer towards you.

“woah,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “that was..”

“way overdue” ellie chips in. the two of laugh and you move to lean you head on her shoulder. it’s silent again before you finally speak up.

“i don’t think i ever really thanked you for taking care of my today. i don’t think i would’ve been able to have this much fun today if it wasn’t for you,” you tell her and you feel her hands that were once in your hair, come around and lift your chin to give her a kiss m.

“you don’t need to thank me pretty girl, i wanted to take care of you.” her confession made your heart flutter. “plus i knew that maybe i might have a chance to finally fuck you,” she teases you and you hit her arm, jokingly sending her a scoff.

“you’re right by the way,” she finally adds on. you give her a confused look and hope she takes the hint to explain what she meant. “you’re not abby’s girl.”

“i’m not abby’s girl,” you repeat.

“you’re my girl,” she tells you, eyes never leaving yours, a small smile on her face.

“i’m your girl.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

₊* a/n : ahhhh i really hope you guys liked it! 🤍 if you did please let me know because it would mean the world!

love you soooooo much MUAH

[leclercvsx]

Little Norris | SMAU

LANDO NORRIS

pairings: lando x pregnant! reader

summary: reader and lando document their pregnancy journey

warnings: none (?)

a/n: none of the pictures are mine ! they’re all from pinterest !

y/ninsta

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 472k others

y/ninsta: surprise !! little norris coming soon 😛

TAGGED: landonorris

landonorris: i can’t wait to meet him ❤️

y/ninsta: “him” can also be a HER 🥱

landonorris: no, i know it’s a boy

user: STOP A LITTLE LANDO NORRIS RUNNING AROUND THE PADDOCK 😭😭😭

lilymhe: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN ?!?!?

y/ninsta: lando got p2, it was a wild night with no protection😊

lilymhe: DONT ADMIT THAT ONLINE

carlossainz55: congratulations, i’m gonna be a great uncle

danielricciardio: but i’ll be a better one🥰

oscarpiastri: speak for yourself mate

——

landonorris

liked by y/ninsta, carlossainz55 and 718k others

landonorris: look how pretty my wife is❤️

TAGGED: y/ninsta

y/ninsta: hormones are going crazy and i’m now SOBBING😭😭

lilymhe: can confirm this

alex.albon: i can also confirm this

user: i need a man like lando in my life😔

carlossainz55: counting down the days

landonorris: that’s my job

carlossainz55: i do it to remind you, because you will forget.

y/ninsta: very true Carlos

user: i’m so excited for this baby y’all

user: no cos me too, i need y/n & lando + baby content😭

——

y/ninsta

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 529k others

y/ninsta: we’re having a little boy💙

TAGGED: landonorris

landonorris: i called it

landonorris: we’re gonna be great parents💙

y/ninsta: we really are💪

charles_leclerc: never in my life have i seen a women have that many mood swings in one night

y/ninsta: pregnancy hormones my dude

landonorris: now imagine what it’s like for me everyday

y/ninsta: you’re sleeping outside.

landonorris: I WAS JOKING BABY IM SORRY

user: omg it really is gonna be a little lando norris😭😭

carlossainz55: name him Carlos 😊

danielricciardo: they’re going to name him Daniel.

oscarpiastri: nice try lads, his name is gonna be Oscar

y/ninsta: his name is actually gonna be Sebastian😛

landonorris: after Vettel😌

sebastianvettel: i’m honoured💙

——

y/ninsta

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 519k others

y/ninsta: he thinks he’s so funny. spoiler alert, he isn’t.

im so over this pregnancy, i want him out already😭

TAGGED: landonorris

landonorris: few more weeks, baby.

y/ninsta: :(

charles_leclerc: it can’t be that bad, can it?

y/ninsta: in the words of Rachel Green “no uterus, no opinion” 😤

charles_leclerc: i’m sorry, i’m sorry🙏🏼

user: she is GLOWING omg

user: RIGHT???!

lilymhe: i’m here for you girl❤️

y/ninsta: i love you😭😭😭

landonorris: you made her cry

lilymhe: IM SORRY I LOVE YOU Y/N

landonorris: she’s crying harder

——

landonorris

liked by charles_leclerc, y/ninsta and 816k others

landonorris: Everyone welcome to the world ‘Sebastian Adam Norris’. Y/n did amazing delivering our son, i was by her side throughout it all. I love you both so much💙

P.S y/n said she isn’t having anymore children😭

TAGGED: y/ninsta

comments have been limited

y/ninsta: i love you both❤️

carlossainz55: congratulations!!

mclaren: welcome to the Papaya family🧡

liked by landonorris & y/ninsta

——————————

SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR THE LAST LIKE MONTH? IVE BEEN REALLY BUSY WITH COLLEGE BUT IM TRYING TO WRITE MORE !!

P.S i could not think of a name for the baby at all😭😭

REQUESTS ARE OPEN (pls request, i have no motivation)

Masterlist | Request

[drchucktingle]

Hello Dr Tingle! I wanted to ask you about that re: your post about how all your books are serious literature (hell yeah Love is real). How do you personally deal with the whole traditional publishing institution? It attracts a whole different level of coverage and it seems that they're very quick to try and box you and like turn you into a brand. Is it stiffling? Is it freeing? Does the attention help more people understand your trot? I don't know I've never been published but since you have experience in both traditional and self publishing I'm interested in knowing how that's feeling for you

well this is a pretty complex question with lots of different trots but i will try my best to answer. lets start with WHO I AM as buckaroo name of chuck

what i create has a very strong voice and my way is pretty recognizable. while buckaroos do not know what most authors look like, i REALLY stand out in a dang crowd with a big pink bag on my head. if you see 50 random author photos and mine is mixed in and then you ask 'which photo do you remember the most?' it is probably gonna be chuck. i also have a VERY UNIQUE STORY with what i create and my artistic sensibilities, not a lot of buds are out there making trans mothman erotica along with their big five traditional publishing bestsellers (SIDENOTE preorder BURY YOUR GAYS)

now if you were going to take 'CHUCK TINGLE' to a marketing department they would FALL OVER BACKWARDS IN THEIR DANG CHAIR with excitement. it is hard to think of an author with a stronger BRAND than i already have in the sense of 'instantly recognizable trot and specific unique style'. even in answering this you can tell that i dont even TALK like other dang authors.

what i am getting at is this: i am VERY VERY LUCKY because my existence just so happens to equate to what a company would see as GOOD BRANDING. it is not intentional on my part, it is just the hand of fate i guess. im out here expressing myself in a FULL ON WAY that is PRETTY DANG STRANGE TO SOME and it just so happens to work as mainstream branding too

on paper you might think 'what the heck no way chuck tingle will fly as a mainstream trot' but honestly the main thread of this timeline can be surprising sometimes. ive been saying the key ingredient for years and i will say it again: LOVE AND SINCERITY RESONATE. when you make art with this fuel, the timeline will feel it. when you stand up tall and shout with your whole chest THIS IS MY WAY AND I LOVE MYSELF. I AM THE WORLDS GREATEST AUTHOR TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT, the timeline will listen

so all that said, i do not mind the idea of myself as 'brand' because i am not CHANGING myself to create this effect. what some might see as 'brand' i just see as another part of my art. i have always believed that art is THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE not just the painting but what is outside of the frame. WHO I AM is just as important as the books i write, and interacting with my way is a whole MULTIMEDIA experience that INCLUDES YOU TOO. it is the feeling when your friend shows you your first tingler cover, or the feeling when you realize that i am not playing a character. this is ALL a part of the tingleverse and it is all a part of my honest raw expression as a queer and neurodivergent buckaroo.

YOU ARE PART OF THIS ART TOO

it is my nature of have a PUNK ROCK trot. always has been. but to me that does not mean just angrily going against everything for the sake of going against everything. for me, this punk rock trot means fighting to EXPRESS MYSELF IN THE MOST HONEST AND PURE FORM POSSIBLE and to create the art that i want to make without any boundaries

somehow i have threaded the needle in this really interesting once-in-a-dang-lifetime kind of way. my pure punk rock self as an OUTERSIDER ARTIST just so happens to resonate with this larger system of brand and traditional publishing and popular culture. i COULD reject this, but rejecting it would be LESS HONEST.

this is just who i am. i LIKE pop culture. i LIKE joy. i LIKE dressing in all pink and wearing my custom suits. I LIKE PROVING LOVE IS REAL WHAT THE HECK ELSE EVEN IS THERE? i love being a queer outsider artist and using my small voice to shout at the big bad devils and i like that every time i shout a few more of you buckaroos join the chorus and together we are just getting louder and louder and louder and WHO KNOWS what comes next for us all trotting together.

when i post something like 'WHAT A GREAT DAY TO PROVE LOVE' it is not me sitting here in a bad mood thinkin 'well i gotta make todays post to keep up with my brand'. i am ACTUALLY FEELING THAT FEELING and i actually believe it with every fiber of my being. honestly, half the time i post about the beauty of this timeline i am probably over here literally crying tears of joy (chuck is an emotional bud i get riled over the joy of existence A LOT)

and heres the best part of this trot: because i really have this punk rock way it makes me very powerful. others can pretend not to care about success and brand and all that but I REALLY DO NO CARE. i would write tinglers whether buds were reading them or not, this is just my natural state, and that makes me incredibly strong. if some big corporation says 'YOU MUST DO THIS' and i dont want to do it i just say 'no thanks'. it is not some big debate about my career or anything like that because I REALLY DO NOT CARE IN THE SLIGHTEST. i care about the art

because of this, my relationship with my GIANT TRADITIONAL PUBLISHING MACHINE is great. we trot like equals and we get along really well. i tell them exactly what i want to do and they let me do it. i really do not have to answer to anyone and they deserve a huge amount of credit for respecting me in this way.

and heres the thing, THEY ALSO HAVE SOME GREAT IDEAS

SPECIFICALLY my imprint of NIGHTFIRE is very dang cool. yes, they are the head of a giant hydra of a BIG FIVE PUBLISHER, but nightfire is SO DANG ART-FOCUSED

there is no right or wrong way to be an artist, and my path is not the only one, but i can tell you what WORKS FOR ME. this is the advice i would give myself, and buckaroos can take it or leave it

here it is: never beg the big book publisher, or record label, or movie studio to pay attention to you

do not let it become a lotto ticket in your brain. do not think that you are some weak little creature and maybe if you trot just right they will scoop you up and take care of you. do not go to their door begging to be let in

LET THEM COME TO YOUR DOOR

create something so incredible and beautiful and honest and powerful and unique and important that they would be foolish to miss out. create a community or a system or a timeline or a world of imagination that thrives on its own and THEY SHOULD BE SO LUCKY TO BE A PART OF IT

then when you sit down at that board meeting it is not 'please brand me, ill do whatever you want'. instead, it is 'lets make a deal and see how much love we can prove together.'

now lets trot buckaroos

[cheolieji]

request: Seventeen's reaction to seeing their SO's boobs for the first time

° don't be shy to request

im doing these by units

|| hhu || vcu || pfu ||

im sorry this took me a while to post i didn't know what to write 😨

i made these literally 5 seconds after i woke up

Jun: last night was boiling hot, so you slept without a top on. Jun shook you gently, trying to wake you, "baby, wake up. i made breakfast. " he pulled your blanket down a little bit when he suddenly realised you were shirtless. flustered, he tried putting the blanket back on you, but you were already awake, "Junnie? — " "Uhhh, yeah- what?" "What's wrong?" "Nothing! why would anything be wrong, haha? " You were a little confused until you remembered you're not wearing anything "Oh sorry haha i was hot last night. " "it's okay. Don't be sorry, uhh, come out after you put some clothes on. " he left the room trying to avoid eye contact ( he would get so flustered and blush like crazy. He's so in love with you )

Soonyoung: you were dancing in the living room while he was watching and giggling from the sofa in front of you. it was normal dancing at first, then the vibe of the song changed. You decided to do some sexy dancing for him, taking your shirt off as a part of the dance move. He would be a little shocked at first, eyes widen and then settling into the mood. "Yeah, baby, come here, let me see you better," moving towards him, you straddle his lap. "Like, what you see, babe?" "fuck yeah, we should do this more often, can i touch you?" ( AND WE'RE DONE )

Minghao: Meditating is something that Minghao usually does, and it's a normal thing around the house (his house), but you're bored, and he's been going at it for a while now, you went into his room to bother him but he has his eyes closed and his legs in a half lotus pose. you made a lot of noise walking into his room, so he definitely noticed your presence, but he's not reacting at all "hao" Silence... "hao" again... "minghaoo," he opened his eyes, giving you a 'what do you want' look. you just smiled before flashing him. He immediately stopped in his track. "Whoaa, you could've just talked, and i would've responded, but i mean, this works too." "sooo? come here tf and stop meditating. I'm bored"

Chan:drinking with Chan after the plan you guys made was ruined from the heavy rain outside. "It was such a good plan too. We would've had so much fun." "i know, baby, we can go another day." "Yeah, ugh chan, I'm done drinking. i think im gonna go take a shower. " "Without me? " he said as a joke. "What?" you said with a confused smile. "Nothing" — "no wait that was funny. Come here, we're dating anyway, " getting up from his seat and walking towards you. you take off your clothes, revealing your stunning figure and well-rounded boobs "oh wow, well, im glad i asked, but i think we need to do something else first before we shower, huh" he says as he picks you up

[ilwonuu]

𐦍༘?can i 𐦍༘⋆

↬ choi seungcheol

𓇣 pairing- nonidol!cheol x fem reader, dom!seungcheol x sub!reader, bestfriend!cheol x fem reader, friends to lovers<3

𓇣 summary- your best friend calls you late at night for something other than a innocent hangout.

𓇣 warnings- dumb confessing love to each other, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, cum swallowing, kissing, MDNI, lmk what else

𓇣 a/n- this is just a random fic that u wrote a long time ago.. i liked it enough to post so lmk what you think!! should i write a part two? ALSO IM BACK FROM LITERALLY NOT POSTING FOR DAYS!!!! im posting a lot of fics today<3 luv u guys 😡

tossing and turning in your bed has gotten you wide awake. you’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past hour. it now being 1:30am as glance at your clock.

you sigh closing your eyes again before you start to get a call. you groan reaching for your phone. seeing it’s seungcheol you make a confused expression, pressung answer.

“cheol? it’s so late what’s up?” you question and he just sighs. “okay- um this is gonna sound crazy but can i pick you up? i’ve been thinking you all night.” he confesses. his voice sounding tense but lust filled.

“thinking about me? what do you mean?” you are beyond confused now, wanting him to explain it. of course cheol has said something like this to you before, but this time it feels different.

“just let me come get you and i’ll explain then. can i?” he asks. you don’t even know why but your mouth is immediately saying that you would love for him to pick you up.

you having no control when it comes to cheol. you sigh again as you force yourself out of the warmth of your bed to grab some pants to throw on.

quickly changing as you know cheol, how fast he would get to your house. speaking of, your phone lights up with a text from the boy telling you he’s outside. you slip on your slippers and head out of your house into his car.

“well good morning to you.” you say sarcastically as you get into the passenger seat. “can i just drive and explain? it’s kind of a lot to take in.” he starts to drive to your guys usual spot to watch the sunset. you couldn’t do that now obviously…

“so.. were you asleep when i called?” “no unfortunately i haven’t been sleeping very well and these were one of the completely sleepless nights.” he sighs not taking his eyes of the road.

“i’m sorry i hope you can sleep better tomorrow.” he says looking at you for a moment to give you a soft smile before finally arriving at your spot.

“are you gonna tell me why you wanted to pick me up at 2 in the morning?” you turn your gaze to him and he just nods. “don’t freak out okay-“ he cuts himself off.

“y/n- i’m in love with you. and everyday i’m more and more in love with you. i couldn’t get confessing to you off my mind. i wanted you to know in person.” he says looking at you for a reaction, response, anything.

“cheol i-“ he sighs thinking he already knows what you’re gonna say. “i know you don’t feel the same. i had a feeling you didn’t but i just need to tell you okay? it was killing me and i just don’t want anything to be weird now-“ you stop his words with your finger.

“cheol shut up. i’m in love with you too.” you confess as well catching him completely off guard. “wait are you serious? don’t mess with me that’s not funn-“ you cut him with a kiss against his lips.

“you believe me now?” he nods pulling you to kiss him again. “you don’t know how bad i wanted to do that.” he admits with a deep sigh.

“cheol-you know-i- me too.” his hands intertwined with yours. you feel so safe with him. you want nothing more than to be his. you want him to be yours.

“y/n i- please let me kiss you again.” and that’s how you ended up here. on your knees in the backseat next to your best friend, reaching for his dick as he fucks his fingers into you.

“cheol-“ he smirks down at you. “feel good baby? keep going.” you nod at his words finally pulling his dick out of his pants. shocked at the size of course. you have never been with anyone with a dick this big- nearly coming on his fingers.

“go ahead, let me see you baby.” he’s looking down at you with intimidating eyes. you give his dick a couple strokes causing him to hiss but mindlessly ruts his hips up with your hand.

you kitten lick the tip of his dick not breaking eye contact with him. a load groan erupting from him. his fingers are starting to fuck into you faster. your moans against him making him crazy.

“fuck just like- that. feels so fucking good.” his hips moving with your mouth as you fuck yourself back onto his fingers.

“look at you. o-oh fuck” your mouth speeding up on his cock. his fingers curling inside of you causing you to moan. you gag on his dick as his hips start to meet your mouth.

you cum on his fingers hard as you feel him start to fuck your mouth. he fucks his fingers into slowly before pulling them out to bring them up to his mouth.

he hums before groaning when he sees you looking up at him. he pulls his fingers out his mouth, his hand inching to your ass rather quickly.

“i’m gonna- fuck i’m coming. you’re so beautiful.” his cum shooting deep into your mouth as his hips fuck up with his groans.

you keep eye contact with him as you swallow. he groans trying not to fuck your mouth again. you sit up to kiss him.

“you’re so pretty.” he gives you a big smile as the two of you get dressed. you blush and look away from him. “want to come to my house?” he smiles at you.

[papaya-twinks]

kika, what about a fic w lando where he’s daying an author reader who usually write normal fiction but wrote a romance novel inspired by him? so just fluff 🥰 tysmmm 🫶🫶

Warnings: None!

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

SMAU

@papayadays it’s giving smau

y/n

caption: just had a spontaneous idea 🤫

user1: QUEEN IS BACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

user2: omggggg, maybe part two on her last book? I beg 🙏

landonorris: will be bringing u caffeine replacements whenever 🫶

-> y/n: and they say chivalry is dead 🫶🥹

charlesleclerc: wooooo, another great reading coming uppppp

-> y/n: this one gonna be a LOT different to the others…

-> pierregasly: it’s definitely a death note

landonorris

caption: queen has writer’s block…maybe this gives a clue on the theme of the book 😉

y/n: promoting my book already 🥹

-> landonorris: you know your book already promotes me 😉🤫

user3: AHHHHH IM SO EXCITED WJIWKWMMWNSNNSMEJWKW

user4: this is a great moment in history y’all

francisca.gomes: what’s lando’s comment about 🤫

-> y/n: 🤐

landonorris

caption: learnt to read just for her <333

user1: wait is that y/n’s new book?

-> user2: obvs no, she don’t write romance 💀

y/n: and he can stately barely not read

-> landonorris: I was being nice 😡

carmenmundt: he stole my highlighter btw so I want it back

-> y/n: I take back my words, chivalry is DEAD @/landonorris

-> landonorris: chivalry only for u 🥰

y/n

caption: <3333

landonorris: my girl <3

-> y/n: all urs <3

user5: HAHEHEHHEHEHE HE WROTE A LOVE LETTER

user6: OMG IM DYING A LOVE LETTER?

francisca.gomes: take notes pierre

-> pierregasly: WHAT WHY

-> y/n: yeah pierre

user7: awwww <33

landonorris

caption: i remember when those words left ur pretty mouth

y/n: <3333333

-> landonorris: <33333

user1: awwwww lando’s being soft!

francisca.gomes: awesome book!

maxverstappen1: I learned to read to read this and I was immediately hit by kissing and softness in this book of urs and now whenever I go outside and see signs and shit I can actually read them and I saw one that said ‘cliff’ and I threw this book off of it because it’s very sappy :(

-> y/n: ok max

-> landonorris: *jumps off of cliff to retrieve the book*

-> y/n: *jumps in too because is a sucker to peer pressure and wants cuddles*

lando&y/naremylife: guys remember the love letter from lando to y/n? look at my most recent post….its a picture from her book omg

landoandy/naremylife

caption: FUCKIGN LOOK IS THIS LANDO’S LOVE LETTER FROM Y/N’S INSTA?

y/n: mayhaps 🤷‍♀️

-> user1: QUEEN RESPONDED

user2: AHHHHHH OMG OKG OMG OMG OMG IM PANCIKCING OMG

user3: DUDE WHAT AN AWESOME SPOT I DIFNT NOTICE THAT LINK

user4: AHHHHHHHHHH OMGGGG <33333

[cranberryjuice-posts]

hiii want to say that i just met your blog and i obsessed with it!! i really love your writing. anddd i want to make a abby request, abby and reader are in college and abby is like super popular and when they start to date reader is called “abbys girl” all the time and get super flustered? i dont know if i express myself good, english is not my first language, sorry! hope u have a amazing day, xoxo <3

- Abby’s girl -

Pairings - modern au! Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader

An - this is kinda bad I’m sorry 😭😭 I wasn’t really sure what plot to write but I still appreciate the request.

Everybody was cheering. With only a minute left on the clock the Seattle wolves vrs the Jackson mustangs— one of the oldest lasting rivals on and off the court, were pushing one another around trying to keep Abby from making her shot.

The blonde dodged around trying to avoid the other team. Making it to the 3 point line she threw the ball. Going through the hoop the clock blared at the same time, the referees announced the wolves win making the home side scream with excitement.

Abby shouted happily, making eye contact with you she grinned. Making your way out of the stands was easier said then done.

Eventually getting to the locker room you walked towards Abby’s spot. One of her teammates walked past you taking a moment to say hi. “Shit It’s Abby’s girl, hey she’s just over there the girls are cheering for her”

You felt your face turn red, “oh thanks” with a smile you watched as she walked away before going towards the shouting. Being the girlfriend of the basketball team captain tended to help boost your own reputation. Most of them didn’t know your name only addressing you as ‘Abby’s girl’.

Was it your preferred way of being addressed… well no. But it wasn’t the end of the world, all it did really was embarrass you.

Setting your purse down by Abby’s duffel bag on the bench you watched as the girls other girls crowded around her, chanting Abby’s name while they all celebrated their big win which would now take them to state. You were and always will be Abby’s biggest supporter, no matter what you would never miss any of her games.

She instantly noticed your presence, breaking free abby quickly made her way to you. Grabbing you by the waist she pulled you into a messy kiss. It was full of adrenaline and not coordinated. Pulling back Abby kept her face close to yours. A few of the other girls on the team chuckled at the display making you blush. “Hey” abby flirted against your lips.

“Hi” You giggled “You did amazing out there.. I mean really I genuinely believe Your Gonna win this thing”

“And im Gonna do even better tonight” she continued her cocky streak, pressing your hips against hers.

You rolled your eyes finding her attempts at seduction funny. “Uh huh, I’m gonna wait for you outside ok” kissing her one more time you gasped as she grabbed your ass. You rolled your eyes as you pulled back, giving her a warning look as Abby remained on her high.

—

You sat down on a bench near by the exit. Pulling out your phone you started to scroll on Instagram, trying to decided what to make a post about. That and finding a new restaurant near by to take Abby to, just to celebrate her big win before she actually tried to get you pregnant.

“So your Abby’s girl huh?” A woman spoke. Looking up you were taken back by seeing Ellie Williams the Jackson mustangs team captain.

Confused you nodded “uh yeah..”

She just scoffed. “How the hell did she manage to pull you” standing up you grabbed your purse, Ellie knew you had been offended by what she said.

“First of all she didn’t pull anyone, how we got into a relationship was because she’s a good person and secondly” you looked her up and down “why are you even over here, your bus is on the other side of campus”

“Damn, I was just asking” she laughed crossing her arms “but seriously though Abby? Her being a good person, that’s total bullshit she’s anything but good, besides I can do anything she does”

“Except win a Game”

You could tell Ellie was starting to loose her patience. Why was she over by you, to hell if you knew. There was a tense silence between you both, before she could speak the back door opened.

Abby stood tall and strong as always only her former grin was replaced with a look of disgust. Getting up you walked over to her, kissing her cheek. “Williams”

“Anderson”

Both girls staring at each-other with a Look of hate, You had heard Time and time again the rivalry between the two schools and between their families. “Why are You over here, and better question why are you talking to my girl”

“Fuck dude nobody’s trying to fight Dina just forgot her bag inside I offered to come get it.” Ellie looked at one once again before gesturing her head to Abby. “Your Girl seems like a real catch, guess you got lucky”

“Guess i did” her response was harsh. At this point you were fed up with the conversation and dealing with Ellie. Grabbing Abby’s hand you pulled her away.

——

Sitting on Abby’s bed you laughed softly at watching her go on a rant. “And don’t get me started on Joel the sheer fucking audacity of that man! He punched my dad because he couldn’t help Ellie. I repeat he punched MY DAD— why are you laughing”

“Nothing Nothing its Just.. your really cute when you get mad” Abby flipped you off making you laugh once again. After a moment she sat down on the bed beside you, taking a calming breath she leaned over kissing you softly, slowly, sensually.. pulling back she gently squeezed your hand.

“What did I do to deserve you” she muttered.

“Not much but working out and getting buff and being blonde helped, you know the important shit” you gave her a charismatic smile

“Your not Funny”

“I’m hilarious”

[ch-4-eri]

Hi, I hope you had a good day

Can you write DI Jill x reader smut (age gap plz) that would contain SCISSORING (I'm tired of strapons I love pussies)

(Death island Jill is my favorite if she wont be in my bed on 14th February im gonna quit it)

Love your work!

I LOVE THIS REQUEST THANK YOU SOO MUCH!!

Jill X fem! Reader.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, slight angst, sad Jill, post death island Jill, scissoring, cursing. Smut, porn with plot, vanilla sex lowkey, Jill is much much older and reader is of legal age.

Word count: 1.7k

Guys I can fix her, I swear.

Your mom’s best friend had an almost near death experience at her job, which is almost every mission.

Jill Valentine has been your mom’s best friend for at least a good decade now, they both met at a support group and the friendship took off, surely a trauma bond lasts a lifetime.

As you both picked up the woman from the airport as she decided to unwind and forget about the horrible island she was talking about, in so little detail— knowing Jill for that long, she’s a woman of mystery, doesn’t say much but does say enough for you to grasp the full picture that lacks detail.

You were in the backseat as your mom drove— Jill staring outside the window with her beat up clothes, you’ve no idea if she liked ripped clothes or she’s just too busy to buy new clothes— either way, she was perfect, she smells nice and takes good care of herself, her almost greying hair perfectly trimmed and tucked behind her ear, she cuts her hair like a mother— not that she has kids, or even wants any.. which is fair.

Your eyes were taking in every detail about her, the way she was sitting, her hands calloused and placed atop her thighs as your mother was making conversation, dragging words out of her… barely so.

She turned to look at your mother which caused you to catch a glimpse at her nose, her blue eyes shining as the aging lines around her eyes were more prominent than last time you’ve seen, and before her visit to that island.

Jill felt eyes on her as she caught you staring, turning those to the backseat, giving you a half assed smile adults give to children and looking away, surely you’re no kid— but to Jill? It kind of doesn’t matter.

Deep down you’d take any kind of attention from her.

You always kicked yourself for thinking of that woman that way, Jill seems like the untouchable kind of woman— anyone’s lucky to even talk to her. you’ve no idea why she gives off that sort of energy… maybe because your mother is her only persistent friend outside of her job ones, and even so she barely talks, you’re curious, you wanna know more, and it grows to an attraction or even an obsession on your behalf.

Each time your mother brings her up, you’re tense, the hair on the back of your neck stands and your heart races, not even in fear, Jill was never threatening around you or your mother despite the training and whatever she’s capable of, and you know exactly what she can get away with.

But she’s a good person, and a good friend, and your mother loves her… so do you, except it’s a different kind of love, or maybe lust, a mere curiosity about the woman with decent intentions and morals, seeing it in her eyes as your mother insults a bad driver on the road and Jill just shushes her, she’s perfect, looks innocent even.

And you know she’s not, not even close.

You tossed and turned next to your mother in bed that night as you gave your room to Jill so she can rest on a bed instead of sleeping on the floor or the couch like she usually argues to do so.

And the thought of her sleeping on your bed is driving you crazy, your bed will smell like her, have her fucking perfect face on your pillows.

The overwhelming feeling made you sit up, not even in the mood to sleep at this point as your mind circled around the same thing, you wanted her.

To talk? Let her open up to you? Oh god she’s asleep on your bed.

And it’s like your legs had a mind of their own, you slowly got out of your mom’s bedroom, and closed the door— letting out a breath so heavy you felt your lungs shake.

Your room was right there, the door closed as Jill was right behind it, on your damned bed.

Your shaky hand was placed on the doorknob as you twisted the handle, allowing yourself to be creepy just this once as the desperation was eating you alive, making you feel smaller.

What if she gets mad? You never saw Jill angry, she’s incapable of being disrespectful like that, she’s too perfect, no matter how much she argues she isn’t.

You saw her awake and staring up at the ceiling, her gaze falling on you, and again; Jill would never be angry with you.

“Hi, sorry.. I just wanted something.” You lied, closing the door behind you.

“No worries.” Jill spoke up, the sound of her voice sending chills down your spine, you needed a fucking grip. “You alright?” You ask, not caring about the act of needing something from your bedroom at this point, what you wanted was her, to talk— to fuck— god anything.

“Just thinking.” Jill responds after a moment of silence, knowing she’s trying not to open up like usual, maintaining her secrets but still keeping a firm honesty— no matter how much it lacked, but you were so done with that, you wanted her to talk, say more, cry it out, anything.

You sat on the edge of the bed and faced her and she looked even more beautiful like this, wearing a gray tank top that barely covers anything, your eyes trying their hardest not to slip up, keeping them on hers instead.

“You can talk to me, you know?” You start, maybe just maybe this would get her to talk, it’s late and Jill looked vulnerable, worn out even. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Goddamn it, it was too close.

“Why not?” You found yourself arguing, were you that desperate? Perhaps, you absolutely were. Jill raised an eyebrow at your persistence, straightening back as she tilted her head. “Because, I don’t want to.” Jill replied, her tone firm like she needs you to stop arguing back if that’s what you were trying to do.

You gulped, you wanted to argue, wanted to tell her off, wanted to let her know she’s got you, that you were right here; anything.

“You should go to bed.” Jill ordered, her tone as firm as a moment ago, making you narrow your eyes in challenge.

“I don’t wanna go to bed, I know you wanna talk and I’m not leaving until you do.” You said, not sure what the hell’s gotten into you, and now Jill was starting to look pissed, a sight you haven’t seen before, maybe part of you was relieved you provoked her, maybe she’d say something, do anything.

She doesn’t say anything for now, you know she’s thinking something over in that head of hers, wishing you had a clue what the fuck it was. “Come here.” Jill gestured at you to come closer. Her fingers pointing at the bed, opening the blanket, her long legs exposed to your hungry eyes as you gulped.

“I said come here.” Jill repeats, her voice louder now, like she’s holding back yelling at you in the middle of the night. You obliged, unsure how you did so— all you could think about were her legs.

You came closer to her, crawling on the bed in front of her, watching the way her eyes studied you, her lips parted with anticipation as she grabbed your waist and brought you closer forcefully, feeling how strong her grip was, making you bite on your lip.

“Why are you suddenly so curious about it?” Jill asked, her fingers splaying themselves on your hip, keeping you close in such a strong grip and that’s just one hand.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Jill whispered, her other hand coming up to part your knees for her, gripping your thigh as she picked you up and brought you into her lap, like you weigh nothing. “That I’m so fucking tired; I’m so fucking sick of everything?” She whispered into your ear, her tone strained like she’s holding back the tears and the despair she’s felt for so so long.

“What do you want to hear?” Jill asked, her voice choked with tears. She wanted to cry but she refused to, her leg moving around your hip. Bringing you closer, her mouth placed near your neck. “I want you talk to me about it, maybe I could help—“

“You can’t help me, doll.” Jill whispered, her breathing fanning your neck, her hands placed on your waist. “Nobody could.” She adds, positioning your middle on top of hers. Her hips slowly moving against yours, desperate for any kind of friction. “Jill—“ you gasped, catching a hold of her shoulders as you were both bumping against each other.

“Please doll just let me do this.” Jill begged, her hands gripping your hips hard as her clothed pussy was sliding up into yours, the fabric so wet as it bumped against her clit and made her bite into her lip, trying not to scream at the pent up feelings and frustrations, your eyes were glued to her pussy, you wanted a taste, to feel her throb in your mouth, your pussy cumming at the friction as Jill moaned, her hands moving your hips with her full strength with both your panties soaked, Jill’s fingers moved in between you two and rubbed at both your clits, her breathing strained as she lifts her fingers up and shoves them into your mouth.

Seeking pleasure from the way you suck on her fingers, her other hand bringing your lower back closer as she chased her high, you had no idea your legs could do that, it was not a common position but it felt fucking amazing with your mouth full of Jill’s fingers and her pretty pussy fucking into your own, “come on— cum inside of me baby.” She urged, bringing your hip closer, pushing your pussy into hers. “Need you to cum inside of me.” Jill pants, too focused on her pretty eyes, mesmerised by her entire being, your noises were soft whimpers and whines as she got wetter at the sound of them.

“Jill—“ you called her name, your muscles spasming as you let out a choked gasp, your cum mixing with Jill’s as you both orgasmed at the same time, your foreheads pressed together and you both panted at the feeling, holding Jill’s shoulders while hers held your hips.

“I better not hear you ask anything else about me,” Jill requests, lifting your hips to get you off of her.

“You know enough doll, now trust me and get some sleep.” She says, slipping out of bed to get you cleaned up before you’d sleep. Leaving you dumbfounded and flustered.

[silverzoomies]

Screwball

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn, kissing, hand jobs, loss of virginity, temperature play, mutant reader, ice powers, porn with plot, clunky writing

word count: 14,151

a/n: im so late posting this. i meant to finish this one like a month ago. but it's already september !! and a heatwave fic seems so out of season !! oh well !! i hope someone out there enjoys this. i went through hell tryin' to finish it. but i'm pretty happy with the way it panned out,,

apologies for the usual: clunky writing, slow as fuck execution, potentially ooc dialogue, etc etc etc kbgsjbdghsoiheg

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Westchester, New York had never seen such a record breaking heat wave.

And in all his reckless, fast paced years up to the ripe age of thirty, neither had Peter.

His fragmented memory is jam packed. Cluttered with disorganized checklists of every place he’s ever been. Not that he’s bragging or anything. But Peter’s basically seen the entire world, and then some. If one were to count those gnarly, X-Men space missions. He’d gone places no non-mutant could ever conceivably dream of reaching. From the deathly cold peak of Mount Everest, to the blistering sands of the Sahara desert itself.

Even with all that collected experience, Peter’s a hundred percent sure; he’s never faced summertime heat as insanely lethal as this.

Okay, sure. Maybe declaring Westchester as hotter than the Sahara might be a bit of a stretch. But to Peter’s credit, this heat wave is dangerous enough to warrant a citywide advisory. Which, in layman’s terms, means: don’t get ballsy. Unless you wanna end up fryin’ like an egg on the sidewalk.

The weather outside is so grisly, in fact, the X-Men themselves had to call their latest mission quits. Imagine that! Crazy, right? A fierce team of mutant heroes, capable of taking on behemoth sized sentinels. And even they didn’t dare another second in the heat.

Peter detached himself from the concept of religion ages ago. But thank the mysterious powers above, whoever they may be. Because he was legit two seconds away from collapsing to the ground, in a boiled heap of skin and bone.

He stumbles off the X-jet on wobbly legs. And no joke, Peter swears his muscles have somehow melted into jelly. It’s supremely embarrassing, the way he struggles to keep up with the team as they move ahead. They all stop before going upstairs, waiting to reconvene with Xavier. Organized in a careless, half circle; the X-Men look as though they’ve returned from an Olympic marathon. Their bodies exhausted, and blanketed in buckets of sweat.

Naturally, on account of Peter’s super dope, mutant genes; his body functioned at a nonstop rate of super sonic speed. As a repercussion, his average body temperature burned leagues hotter than any non-mutant’s. It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to dread the tormenting heat of the summer season.

In the blazing eye of a dangerous heat wave, swarming the city like an apocalyptic storm; Peter’s absolutely certain – like, for sure, he’s teetering on the brink of death. A miserable, stewing-in-your-own-sweat kinda death. Leave it to Logan to recite the eulogy at Peter’s funeral. No doubt, Wolvie would have nothing but positive things to say about Peter after he died. Most definitely.

Peter might be a teensy bit freaked out actually. Since he had no idea he was even capable of experiencing heat exhaustion. It almost makes him paranoid. Like a hypochondriac with a chest ache. In an attempt to force his recovery, Peter chugs through exactly thirteen bottles of dollar store water in a flash. The source of his stash? A stainless steel, mini fridge in Hank’s lab.

He knows Hank’s gonna be totally peeved when he finds the fridge raided clean. But Peter doesn’t bother worrying about that right now. Instead, he makes a mental reminder: Water bottles. An IOU. One he’ll probably forget about within the next two seconds. And never get around to fulfilling.

Professor Chucksters is talking, but Peter can’t find it in himself to listen to a single word. Whatever momentous info the ol’ baldy drops, flies a thousand miles over his feverish head. Peter cranes his neck back in overheated agony, lazily chugging Hank’s last remaining bottle of crisp, cold water. The smooth bite of that cold down Peter’s throat makes him exhale with relief through his nose.

Halfway through, he stops to shower his head in the rest. Letting chilly droplets rain down over his silver hair. Sharp tingles erupt down his neck and across his shoulders. Peter shudders, humming in delight to himself.

Oh. Shit. Wait…

Peter then comes to the regrettable realization that, in a heatwave so hazardous; water is a necessity to be shared.

No shit, blockhead.

Now, mind you, Peter isn’t known for his forethought. He’s pretty overzealous. Had he taken time to stop and think for a hot sec…yeah. Sure. Maybe he should’ve been more mindful of his suffering teammates. Oopsie daisies.

Much like a careless dog, Peter shakes off the cold drops soaking his hair. Sprinkles of water splash all around him, with Jubilee caught in the line of fire. She jumps in place with an abrupt, but silent exclamation of ‘ew!’ Shooting Peter a look of burning fury. Damp strands of Peter’s hair fan over his eyes. He runs his fingers slowly through them to give his forehead some air.

Maybe Peter’s a little delusional. Because he swears on his life he catches a red tint in Jubilee’s cheeks. She scoffs, like she can’t stand his bullshit. He throws her a wink. A beat later, she smiles and rolls her eyes.

Peter smirks. Lucky for him, his speedster charm has yet to fizzle out.

The team waits patiently for their opportune moment to flee. It’s obvious they’re all pretty antsy. Probably since they’re dying to change into something lighter. Better fitted for Satan’s city wide celebration of hellfire and brimstone. Anything but the jumpsuits, at least. But that’s just a hunch.

In Peter’s own personal opinion? The most ideal scenario would be to strut around naked, in nothing at all. Sounds awesome, right? Freedom from the suffocation of needless threads! However, societal standards and modern customs definitely wouldn’t allow such debauchery. Not to mention, Peter isn’t super keen on the idea of peeping his teammates in their birthday suits.

Except for Raven, maybe. He never gets tired of looking at those scales. All that blue. Nice.

Oh. And…you. Frankly, Peter’s willing to risk it all just to catch a glimpse of you in the buff.

He swallows a thick lump forming in his throat, sneaking a lightning fast glance in your direction. Observing you with a gawking gaze, Peter ignores the way his heartbeat kicks up to roadrunner speed. Faster than fast. Like, cartoonishly fast. It’s ridiculous.

You’re completely impervious to any heatwave debuffs. Lucky lucky. Standing there without a care in the world, you listen attentively to professor Charlie Brown’s ramblings. Since you’re so distracted, Peter lets his speedy eyes shamelessly wander. Trailing down the glittering, icy blue of your jumpsuit. Uniquely personalized to coincide with your wintry gimmick.

Which doesn’t at all explain why it’s so inappropriately skin tight.

Peter feels himself choke on his next breath. But he’s quick to blame it on the weather. Yeah. It’s just the heat that’s stifling him. Nothing else. Get real, dude.

The sparkling material of your suit hugs your figure a little too perfectly. Complementing every irresistible curve. Peter always thought you looked so ludicrously fine in that suit. If not way, way, way too distracting. Sometimes, he found it ultra hard – ignoring any euphemisms – to maintain focus during missions. Usually because your frosty ass came twinkling in his peripheral, throwing off his mojo.

But let’s chalk Peter’s lack of focus up to his chronic ADD instead, ‘kay?

Heck. Maybe it wasn’t the ADD’s fault. At least, not entirely. Like, cut the bullshit for a sec. Peter doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience. He’s never gone any further than a dozen heated sessions of heavy petting. And from time to time, though he hates to admit it; it haunts him. The way he’s so suppressed. Overflowing with pent-up desire.

Thirty years old and still a virgin? Clock’s ticking, Quickie. No wonder he can’t take his hungry eyes off your body.

Speaking of your body.

Damn, is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

It’s most definitely not you.

Your body naturally radiates a refreshing aura of frigidity. It’s no coincidence, the way your teammates linger so closely in your proximity. Peter can’t really blame them for doing so. You’re the human equivalent of an icebox. Even a touch of your finger could turn the entire X-mansion into a winter wonderland. Part of him wonders why you haven’t done so already. Since you’d be sparing everyone the infernal anguish of this awful heat wave.

Maybe you’re just as absentminded as he is.

Anyway, right about now, Peter desperately yearns to be a long lost tub of neapolitan. Stuffed deep inside your metaphorical freezer.

Which…sounds way dirtier than intended.

Fuck. Alright. Moving on.

Tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit, Peter fights to catch his breath. The fierce heat from outside has somehow seeped its way into the X-Men’s base of operations. Almost like an act of god. Or more like a punishment, maybe.

In desperate need of relief, Peter looks to you once more. He finds himself struck with an ingenious, lightbulb moment then.

A blink, and he bolts, appearing directly behind you. A faint gust of wind flutters your hair. But the breeze fails to even make you flinch. Peter isn’t the least bit subtle with his actions, as he presses his burning body a little too closely into your back. And hoooooooooooooo mama! The sweet relief of your icy presence is so worth any consequences, should they arise.

You whip your head around suddenly, giving Peter a weird look and a once over. He can’t really blame you for staring at him like that. Sure, you’re both teammates. Even family, one might argue. You’re both fighting for the same cause. But you haven’t built an inseparable bond with Peter or anything.

Honestly, he’d be totally down if you did. But that’s neither here nor there.

Peter always thought you were pretty damn cool. In more ways than one, if your glacial mutation was included in the mix. If he were more honest with himself, he would’ve acknowledged his dumb, boyish crush on you an entire ice-age ago. Oh well.

He’s still too much of an awkward spaz for his own good sometimes.

You seem…confused. Staring at Peter as if silently asking him a question. If he had to guess, it’s probably something along the lines of – what the hell do you think you’re doing, you handsome scoundrel? Peter exchanges your puzzled look with an uneasy smile. Dramatically, he fans himself with a hand. Hoping you get the hint, he pokes his tongue out to playfully express his suffocating torment.

Thankfully, you pick up what he’s putting down. As you turn back around, you giggle cutely. Peter breathes an alleviating sigh. He’s left to bask in the glory of your wintry aura. So freeing, and so, so cold. He could kiss you as a thanks, if only you’d let him. But you’ve already directed your attention to Xavier’s painfully long lecture.

Wait. Seriously, how long was this talk supposed to last? It feels like a million years at this point and-

Peter checks the Star Trek watch on his wrist. It’s only been…five minutes. Huh.

The gathering of ye olde X-council draws to a close. At long last! Xavier wraps up his spiel of heroic efforts , world peace , and wonderful work everyone. Bla bla bla. Don’t get Peter wrong. He harbors a lot of respect for the guy. Any other day, and he would’ve found those words somewhat awe inspiring. If not the slightest bit misguided.

But today? Professor, dude, now’s not the time to be preaching words of wisdom. Your nerd club’s literally cooking from the inside out. Give it a rest.

The team wastes no time. As soon as Chuck’s given the go-ahead, they’re gone. High-tailing it upstairs as fast as their tired legs can go. Which isn’t all that fast. At least, not by Peter’s standards. But he’s hella impressed with the enthusiasm.

Unlike everyone else, you move at a frustratingly slow pace. Walking behind you feels akin to waiting too long in a DMV line. Something Peter’s never had to do a single day in his life. And he’s not about to start now. It’s monotonous, and borderline infuriating. But his heightened impatience is probably just another consequence of this outrageous heat.

You take your sweet ass time – and holy moly, did you have a sweet ass – as you ascend to the first floor of the X-mansion. Peter follows after you like a lost puppy, not too far behind. On your way to – presumably – your room, you climb another, dreaded flight of stairs. And since when were stairs a hindrance to a speedster like Peter? He’s never once felt winded making a simple ascent like this. Ever.

Peter’s growing more and more restless. His skin feels sticky and uncomfortable under his jumpsuit, but he can’t rush home to grab a change of clothes. He’s unwilling to risk a race through whatever hellscape lies in waiting outside. No matter how little time it takes him. Not while his lungs are cooking to a crisp.

He aches for the touch of your icy hands. Plain and simple. Nothing to it. Nothing sexual. No strings attached.

Unless…you had a preference for strings. Peter would tie them around his wrists and move like a marionette puppet if you asked. Shit, you want a whole show? Bring out the dancing Muppets.

Midway through your ascent, Peter appears in front of you. He stops you suddenly, leaning casually with his hand against the wooden railing. His other hand rests on his hip. Lamely, he forces himself to act as naturally as he can. Which is virtually impossible, considering the circumstances. But even so, Peter throws you his signature grin and nods his head.

Be cool, dude. Be cool. Ease into it. Just try not to think about how you’re literally baking to death here.

His overheated exhaustion is impossible to miss. Even a dense chimp in a blindfold could sense something’s off about him. The quick rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a dead give away. Revealing how labored his breathing really is. Trickles of sweat race in a tense competition down Peter’s temples. Warm heat pools in his cheeks, and his skin appears ghostly pale.

That…might be the reason you gaze at him like you’re worried sick. As if you’ve seen a haunting, silverette ghost. Peter looks like he’ll pass out sometime within the next five minutes. Realistically, he should probably seek medical attention immediately. But he fakes his aloof casualness anyway.

“Heyyyyy, what’s the haps? Where’re you headed in such a rush, Screwball?” Peter asks, somewhat condescending.

“Screwball?” You narrow your eyes, puzzled, “Oh, y’know, my room probably? I might take a nap. Why?” You laugh despite your confusion, crossing your arms. Fixing Peter with a look that only suggests one thing: suspicion.

Fair enough.

He nods, rapidly tapping his fingers on the railing.

“Cool. Coooooool. I can dig it. Nothin’ wrong with that. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna spend a summer afternoon like this lazin’ around in bed, amiright?”

Good. Nice and easy. Peter should probably stop there, and speak no further. But his hazy, addled mind works on autopilot. The words race past his lips faster than he can keep up.

“It’s hot as hell today too. So, you could totally sprawl out butt ass naked and-”

Too late.

“...Yeah?” Based on your expression alone, Peter knows he’s made a total ass of himself. By some miracle, you don’t deck him with an icy fist of freezing fury. Not that you seemed the violent type to begin with.

“Wait, no-” He abruptly pauses to try and make sense of his thoughts. A stifling heat in the air swarms his head, drowning Peter in hot molasses, “Oh. Gah! What the hell am I even saying? Sorry, that was-uh…that was totally weird, right? Uh, lemme start over-uhm-”

Peter clears his throat, masking his mortification with his speedster charm. Super popular with the ladies. Tested on the battlefield of life and approved. A five star rating. No need to question why he still hasn’t managed to get laid, like ever.

“Sooooooooo…anyway. Y’wanna hang out?” He asks, cheesing a dorky grin.

“You never ask me to hang out with you. But today, of all days…that’s when you do? Everything’s closed, Peter. Y’know, because of the heat advisory? I mean, clearly…you look like you know.” You gesture to Peter himself.

A sweaty sheen coats his skin. He really should’ve taken a cold shower in the communal washrooms. At least before confronting you like this. Man, he really screwed this up. If this interaction falls flat, Peter’s just gonna bail. Maybe he’ll try and stuff himself in that mini fridge of Hank’s. He’d be way better off there. Until Beastie finds him, anyway.

“Uh, yeah? Pffft …no duh. I knew that. But, so what? Just ‘cuz there’s some lame stuff happening outside. That doesn’t mean we can’t do somethin’ totally cool inside. Know what I mean?” Simple and subtle.

“Hm…” You think on his offer for a moment. But it feels like he's aged another thirty years by the time you reply, “At least let me change first, okay? You probably should too! I know you gotta be burnin’ up in that jumpsuit, sweetheart!”

A dopey smile plays on Peter’s lips, pressing into his dimples.

So…sweetheart, eh? That’s a new one.

Politely, you push past Peter to make your way up the remaining stairs. Without any forethought or plan of action, he cuts you off again. He slides across the floor into your visual radius, worn sneakers squeaking along polished wood. Wait…why’s he losing his balance?? Peter doesn’t usually lose his balance. Shit.

Ah. he’s lightheaded now. Great.

You’re close enough that Peter can feel the tempting coldness radiating off your body. Oh, man. If only you’d envelop him in your frosty arms completely. You could even lay on top of him like a blanket of snow post avalanche. Anything. Please. Peter is so beyond desperate to beat the heat, he’d let you pelt him with a flurry of snowballs. At least then, he wouldn’t feel a spark away from igniting into flames.

Staring at him with an impatient look, you tilt your head and furrow your brows. Awkwardly, Peter shifts on his feet. Thick humidity overflows his lungs, close to bursting with the force of an atomic bomb. Breathing is near impossible at this point. Peter may as well bite the silver bullet, before he finally kicks the bucket.

Godspeed, or however the saying goes.

“Hi…sorry. Okay-uh…hear me out, please?” He begs. Peter brings his hands together in front of him like he’s praying at the altar, “This is gonna sound weird. Like, next-level weird. Yer probably gonna think I’m a huge creep. And I’m not tryna freak you out ‘er anything. ‘kay? Like, I totally get it if yer not down for this. ‘Cuz, y’know, we’re not really all that close. Plus, you probably have other stuff you’d rather be doin’ than helpin’ out some loser like me, but-” Peter rapidly stammers over his words.

Way to go, ponyboy. Graceful as ever.

Holding out a small hand to politely silence Peter, you utter his name in the sweetest tone he’s ever heard. Hushed, soft, and so gentle. Your voice is the equivalent of candy to his eardrums. He kinda really digs the way you sound when you talk. So courteous and nice all the time.

Be still, his palpitating heart. Seriously. Calm down. Or he’s literally gonna die.

“Peter?”

“Uhyeahwhat?” He stammers again.

“Are you…okay? You’re sweating like crazy. You look like you’re gonna pass out, dude.”

Peter throws you an ‘ok’ sign with a hand, his grin sluggish.

“Peachy keen, baby.”

He swears with every fiber of his sweltering soul that calling you ‘baby’ made you blush. But, y’know, since he’s a little bit doubtful, he might have to test that theory again. Just to be a hundred percent sure. Break out the ol’ chalkboard and sketch some x’s and o’s like a scientific diagram. Top of the line research. He’s the leading psychoanalyst in speedster charisma. 

“You sure about that?” You ask, arching a brow, holding an easygoing smile.

Taking a few steps closer, you bless Peter with your emanating chill. He doesn’t at all expect you to raise your hand. Peter swallows a thick, blistering lump in his throat. Frozen in place, he watches in slow motion as you bring the tips of your frosty fingers to his chest. Brisk, winter cold spreads in fractals of frost over his jumpsuit.

Freezing heaven on scorching earth. It’s sorta…poetic, in a way. Peter blinks rapidly, caught in a mind-altering daze for a beat or two. Your touch really is like a miracle cure, alleviating that stifling thickness suffocating his lungs.

“W-Wow. Okay.” He chokes awkwardly, cheeks flushing. His skin tingles under his jumpsuit, “Wow. That’s cool. Literally cool.”

“Peter?”

“Mmmmmmhmmm?” He hums, slouching his shoulders. Peter shamelessly relaxes under your wintry touch.

“You’re suffering in this heat, aren’t you? You need me to help you out?”

Stupidly, like a colossal, doofus dumbass, he shakes his head. You’re offering the exact thing Peter came to you for. A golden opportunity. He’s really hit the jackpot now. All he has to do is face the music, and admit it. Just be honest. Say it, doofus!

“Huh? Naaahhhh! Pffft …why would-...hey, I told ya! I’m juuuust peachy, Screwball! Don’t gotta worry about me!”

Hanging in the air by a delicate string, is a tension Peter’s too stunned to identify. Taking another step closer, the swell of your breasts meets his chest. The hand you’ve placed over his speedy heart trails tantalizingly slow, up to Peter’s flushed cheek. His dark eyes flutter closed, and he almost falls face first into your touch.

“I can take care of you, y'know? I really don’t mind, honey. It wouldn’t be an issue.” Your soft voice exudes genuine compassion. The sweet, gentle attention burns his skin to a boiling point, his veins melting underneath.

That unidentifiable tension in the air permeates, thicker than summertime heat. Despite the relieving cold you’ve given him to bask in; Peter finds it even more difficult to breathe. It confuses him, the way you act so nice and considerate. And now? He’s melting entirely.

Literally. No dramatizations. Peter can feel his damp skin drooping slowly off his bones.

He’s already close enough to death as is. What’s with the tenderness and affection, huh? Were you going out of your way to make sure he dies faster? Have some humanity, for Geddy’s sake. Jeez.

“I-uh…I…” Peter stutters, at a loss for words, “I wouldn’t wanna put you out like that, but…uh…”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” You steadily pull your hand from Peter’s face, “Offer’s still on the table, though!”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Why are you pulling away? No, no, no! You can’t pull away! Not yet! Come on!

All at once, the soothing cold you’ve gifted Peter disappears. No thanks to the steaming fever brought upon by his overheated, speedster body. He nearly whines at the loss, pulling his lip between his teeth to stifle any embarrassing noises.

It takes Peter only a millisecond to give in. With a slower reaction time than usual – not really all that slow, from an outside perspective – he darts his hand out in a flash. Peter lightly grabs your wrist, stopping you from retracting your hand any further.

“Wait-” Peter groans, acting hasty. Frustrated with his own awkwardness, he rolls his eyes, “...I’m…I’m literally dyin’ here, okay? Like, no joke. I think my heart might actually explode. And I…kinda can’t breathe right now? So, uhm…can you just, like, touch me? Just a little bit? But not-” He panics suddenly, eyes widening, “N-Not like-...not in a weird way, I swear!”

He almost tacks on a suggestive ‘unless you really want to,’ but decides against it. Better not, lest he dig himself into a deeper hole. So far under the Earth’s surface, he’ll come out the other side. Not a bad idea, actually. Maybe it’s cooler over there.

“And I’ll totally make it up to you. I promise. Pinky swear. Cross my heart, hope I don’t die of heat stroke.” He insists.

You giggle again, cute as can be. It’s not the least bit condescending either, thankfully. Peter feels the weight of a billion megatons finally lift off his shoulders. With a nod, you take his hand in yours. A surprisingly intimate gesture, since the two of you have never done anything quite like this before. Hell, you’ve never spent time with each other one-on-one outside of the X-Men.

“C’mon, you silly goose.” You lightheartedly joke.

Your affection catches Peter off guard. Not that he’s got a problem with it. No siree. In fact, his heart might’ve skipped a few beats. A lazy smile plays at his lips, as you guide Peter down the hall to your room in your usual, slow stride.

Oh, sweet, frosty sanctuary calls.

As soon as Peter steps inside, you quickly close the door behind you. Feeling somewhat out of place in the unfamiliarity of your space, Peter distracts himself with the posters on your walls. He casts quick glances over the silly knick-knacks occupying your desk and dressers. Turns out, your room has a lot of personality. Neat.

He overhears a faint click suddenly. Whipping around to find you locking the door, Peter narrows his eyes in thought.

Huh.

Maybe he’s overthinking. Probably. But doesn’t locking the door like that suggest some…implications? Then again, Peter could be looking at this in all the wrong ways. Like, okay, if he were being realistic? More than likely, you didn’t wanna risk someone walking in. Not while you got handsy with one of your teammates in your room. Totally reasonable, he thinks.

But then-

Leaning your back against the door, you steadily unzip your glittering suit. Pulling the tiny, snowflake zipper down just enough to expose the swell of – Oh, hellllloooooooooo snowy cleavage. Where in the world have you been all his life? Peter has to refrain from whistling.

Okay. You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you? That was completely intentional. And Peter’s definitely not reading too far into things. He’s most unequivocally not letting his attraction to you affect his perception of a simple gesture. Not at all.

He can’t control his lingering gaze. Peter’s droopy eyes follow the slow movement of your hand, his mouth falling agape in a heat-exhausted stupor. Somewhere around him, he can barely make out your voice. But it’s muffled. All noise. Akin to a teacher from a Peanuts cartoon. Bwah Bwah Bwah Bwah.

Peter blinks.

“Huh? Sorry…you say somethin’?” It’s a failed attempt at a recovery. Peter taps his temple, “Gotta couple screws loose in here right now. Y’know, heat’s kinda gettin’ to me.”

You arch a brow, gazing at Peter like you see right through his bullshit. And yeah, he’s gonna go ahead and bet you probably do.

“Uh huh?” You scoff, giggling, “I asked if you’d be more comfortable on the bed, doofus.”

Moving closer to your bed, you bend over to adjust the fuckload of plushies resting on the blankets. Wow. Check that out. It’s like a Toys R Us threw up. A colorful mess of too many plushies for Peter to count. There’s barely any space to lie down, even if he wanted to.

Doing a quick double take, he glances between you, and your occupied bed. Peter sways where he stands, light headed from heat exhaustion. His brows shoot up in unexpected surprise. He whistles through a suggestive grin.

“Waiiiit, seriously?” Peter huffs a charming laugh, “Wow. Didn’t peg you for the direct type, Screwball. Y’wanna take me out to dinner and a movie first?”

“Dinner and a movie? I dunno, Peter. You’re askin’ for a lot.” You giggle again, acting nonchalant. You make your way around the room to a record player on a corner shelf. Neatly organized vinyls are aligned meticulously next to it. As you poke through your collection, you continue, “But sure. Fuck it, right? Why not! What movie?”

Distracted, as he usually is, Peter glances curiously around your room. Framed photos, postcards, and letters adorn your walls. Pinned carefully in place. Some of the photos, he suspects, are of your family. Others, more than likely friends. There’s even a few group photos of the X-Men together, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah?

Wait. Shit. You’re talking again. And Peter totally missed whatever you said.

“Huh?” Peter darts his head in your direction, watching with half lidded eyes as you set up the record player.

“Dude.” You roll your eyes affectionately, chuckling, “I said, is it hot in here, by the way? Just wondering. Since I can’t really tell.”

“Oh-” Peter exaggerates a sigh, “It’s really bad, babe. Like, sooo bad. I’m definitely gonna die if you don’t come over here and put those icebox hands on me, like, right now. Seriously.” He snickers, falling limply backwards into your bed.

Several plushies bounce with the impact of his weight. Some tumble onto the floor. Others topple onto Peter himself, but he leaves them be. He clutches a Beatles Blue Meanie plush to his chest. Breathing in quick, muggy breaths. Peter finds he’s even more consumed by the record-breaking heat. It’s a miracle he hasn’t disintegrated into a pile of ash by now.

“Howard the Duck.” Peter adds, staring at the ceiling in cloudy thought. He twirls the Blue Meanie in his hands.

“Pffft…what?” You laugh, “What are you even-”

“That’s the movie I wanna see. When you take me out? I wanna watch Howard the Duck. Oh! And I want popcorn too. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn. But it’s gotta be one of the big ones. With extra butter. And some candy-”

“ When I take you out. C’mon, really? Dude, didn’t critics totally pan that movie? I swear, I saw that in the paper just recently! It’s such an awful movie, Peter!”

“Uh, yeah? And so what? That’s kinda what makes it the ultimate date move, babe. Check it out – we could have the most awesome time makin’ fun of it.” Peter throws his head back further into your bed, peering at you from upside down, “Ooooh! Did you hear about the duck boobs scene? No joke. I kid you not. It’s got duck titties.”

A mellow tune slowly encompasses the quiet, muggy space of your room. Peter instantly recognizes it from the first few beats alone. Obscured by Clouds. Pink Floyd. …Cool. Peter’s pretty fond of that album himself. It’s not necessarily his favorite, per se. But it’s awesome enough. And it’s perfectly fitting for the mood of sweltering, summertime vibes too, he thinks.

“I didn’t until now.” You sarcastically scoff. Meandering towards Peter on your bed, “Spoilers, dude.”

He brings his head up to look at you. Spreading himself out, Peter knocks more of your poor plushies to the floor. Carelessly, he drops the Blue Meanie plush. Letting him fall to his ultimate demise. Au revoir, his blueness.

“Right. My bad.” He snickers. After a beat, Peter adds, “I love this album, by the way. It’s a nice vibe.”

In your eyes, he must look a lot like a beached starfish. Sprawled out and helpless. Drying to death in the heat of the summertime sun. Peter has his long legs hanging loosely off the edge of your bed. Moving in between those spread legs, you carefully climb onto the bed. Your knee stops just short of his crotch. As you inch yourself further over his body, Peter’s eyes widen. He blinks slowly, feeling hot beads of sweat roll down his temples.

“I know you do.” You grin down at him with a warm gaze. Peter’s lungs threaten to shrink into nothingness.

“Y-You do? Huh…no shit?” He appears put off, raising a silver brow, “How’d you know?”

You shrug, keeping your grin, “Guess I pay more attention to you than you think, hmm?” Perched over Peter with a palm to the sheets, you brush the silver bangs out of his eyes, “You got any limits?”

Peter blinks again, dumbfounded.

“Lim-...uh, what now?”

“Limits, y’know. Like, where am I free to touch? Anything you’re not comfortable with?”

“Oh. Uh…you can…touch me anywhere? It’s whatever yer comfortable with. Yer the one doin’ me a favor here.” he gazes at you with an unsure, sleepy eyed look. Nervously nibbling his lip, tasting the salt of his sweat, “Do you-uh…do you do this kinda thing a lot? Fer…other people?”

“Nope.” You blink down at him with that genuine, sweet smile again. Shrugging, “Just you.”

A subtle aura of addictive cold radiates from your body like a light. Peter can feel the faintest hint of it as you move in close. It teases him, promising sweet relief from the merciless summer heat. With his lips parted, Peter stares longingly into your eyes. His smile reveals a glimpse of his front teeth, as he snickers in disbelief.

“Uh huh. Alright. See, now I know fer sure yer just messin’ with me.” He bashfully laughs.

“Not yet I’m not.” You throw him a coy wink. Innocently, you ask, “Where do you want me?”

Which could so easily be misconstrued. Dammit.

Yeah. So, this one’s definitely on him. Peter’s inexperienced, sexually charged instincts immediately jump somewhere totally depraved. He’s a little ashamed of that fact. But hey, who’s the one climbing over him on their bed? Who’s the one fluttering those pretty lashes? Giving him those flirtatious smiles. Come on. Really? No wonder he’s lost his mind in the gutter.

Where do you want me?

Peter’s dark eyes immediately dart to his crotch for less than a second. But it happens so fast, he doesn’t doubt you missed it.

“Uhhhhh…I dunno. I didn’t…I didn’t really think about it? But, you cou- HHHHHHhnnnnnnnaaaaaaa-”

Frigid cold invades the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, as you press your hand gently there. A tiny thumb brushes his adam’s apple. Shivering, Peter bunches his shoulders. Tingling chills surge across his body.

“That’s good. That’s g-great. Awesome. Totally awesome. Thanks. Thank you.” He chokes in a rush, instantly melting into your icy touch.

Relaxing his body in your bed, Peter’s head falls loosely back. He breathes a long sigh of relief, his mouth falling open in a dopey smile. His eyes flutter closed as he laughs. Steadily then, your hand travels lower. Grazing frosty fingertips over his chest. Your fingers soon find the zipper of his jumpsuit, and you tug it down a little further.

That heavy tension from earlier grows a thousand times more distracting. For whatever reason, the mellow melody of Pink Floyd’s ‘When You’re In’ only seems to heighten said tension. Almost like it’s setting a certain kinda…steamy mood. 

Did Peter wake up in some cheesy, VHS porno? He’s definitely living the plot of one.

Peter flutters his eyes open, met with the sight of you on your knees over him. Your gaze appearing heavy, focused intently on your task. You nibble your lip in thought, looking fine as hell while doing so. Pressing your small palm to his chest, you finally grace him with glorious cold again. Right over the sweaty abomination for a shirt he wore under his jumpsuit. He’s almost embarrassed that you’re even touching it.

Using your glacial gift, you manifest more coolness. Allowing it to spread all over Peter’s body. He sucks in a harsh breath, freeing his lungs from their heated asphyxiation.

There it is. Sweet, icy sanctuary, at long last.

“Ohhhhhhhh …” Peter groans, “Nice.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his veins straining under his skin. Digging your nails firmly into his chest, you manifest snowy trails of glittering frost. The biting cold nips at his skin over the fabric of his shirt. Like walking chest first into an arctic glacier.

“Is this helping you much at all?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“You have nooooooooo idea, babe.” Peter breathes a grateful sigh, “This is, like, so amazing. Thanks. I owe ya one.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

Your freezing hand meets Peter’s sweaty forehead, pressing into his skin. Like you’re checking his temperature with the gentleness of a mother’s touch. Humming to the music, you card your cold fingers through his damp locks. Firmly massaging Peter’s scalp.

Peter lets his eyes drift shut again. His mouth falling open out of his control. Leaving his hair, you bring your attention back to his body. Watching him carefully for any sign to stop, you tug the wet, frost nipped fabric of his shirt. Bunching it up over his neck, exposing his broad chest.

He shoots an eye open, fixing you with a curious look. Feeling hot skin under your soft palms, you slide your hands over his raised pecs. Your fingers gliding in a touch as delicate as powdered snow. It sends sharp chills down his spine. A sensation he’s quickly finding extremely addictive and all too pleasant.

Instantaneously, something clicks in Peter’s brain.

A beat, and your touch goes from relieving, to downright pleasurable. Even sort of…arousing. Peter immediately reacts, arching his back in an abrupt jolt. He laughs his surprise through a broken moan, tossing his head back for the umpteenth time.

“O-Oh, fuck.” He chokes, loud enough to disturb whoever occupies the room next door.

Peter’s so righteously fucked now. Because he really shouldn’t be as turned on by this as he is. It’s just…he’s so boiling hot. Miserable as hell. And not only are you finally breaking him free of hellfire’s tyranny. But you’re also touching him sorta intimately. Peter’s really not immune to attention like this. Especially not from a stone fox he’s super attracted to.

His nipples harden under your frigid spell, perky against the tips of your fingers. Peter hisses, whimpering another moan without meaning to. Your only response is to giggle. Curiously, you tilt your head. Quickly taking notice of the way Peter’s noises have changed in pitch.

They’re more like moans of ecstasy now. Because, well, they sorta are. Whoops.

Lowering your hips, you suddenly move to rest on Peter’s lap. Just to give your knees some much needed rest. His hammering heart threatens to burst straight through his ribcage. Rising from the bed onto his elbows, Peter tries to protest.

“Wait! Wait, don’t sit- hoooohhhh.” A throaty groan slips off his tongue.

The full weight of your lower half drops onto his lap. Right over the stiff hard-on in his jumpsuit, doing little to hide itself. Your ass is so outrageously cold against his crotch and… oh, fuck. That’s so perfect. Peter groans again through a shuddering breath. Limply, he lowers himself onto his back. Hoping to conceal his shame, he brings his hands to his face.

Except, there’s no denying his obvious desire anymore.

“Auuuuugh.” Peter curses himself, “Shit. I am seriously so, so sorry-” Your name plays on his tongue in a desperate, apologetic tone, “I-I really…I dunno why I’m so-uh…I’m not usually-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It’s okay. Believe me, I don’t mind…”

Gosh. There you go again, doing that thing. The thing where you act so unexpectedly understanding in the face of an awkward situation. But even then, Peter can hear your smooth voice waver. Despite all you try to hide, he can tell. You’re just as nervous as he is, but ultimately better at masking it.

He doesn’t see it, but you gaze down at him rather suggestively. A fresh, newfound sense of lust lingers in your eyes. Raking your nails teasingly down his chest, you draw numbing streaks of snow, making him wince. The frost manifests seamlessly from your fingers, tickling Peter’s ever burning skin. It melts instantly, leaving beaded droplets.

“Does it really feel good when I touch you like this, pretty boy?” You tease, that waver in your voice barely leaking through again.

Wooooah. Okay. Okay. Hold up. Rewind. What?

Peter isn’t hearing you wrong this time. He couldn’t be. It’s impossible to misread the dirty tease in your tone. In the blink of an eye – rapid fire speed – the blood pooling in his cheeks vacates straight to his dick. Peter’s cock twitches, pulsating under his jumpsuit – under you – and shamefully unveiling just how horny he really is.

The high-speed boom boom boom of Peter’s heart skids to a deafening halt. His exhausted lungs finally collapse. Squeezing out his final remnants of life. If someone were to hook him up to an EKG, he surely would’ve flat-lined. Sayonara, suckers. This foolhardy speedster’s at the end of his road.

But…what’s this?! Peter’s still alive and breathing? Who could’ve predicted such a phenomenon??

He lowers his hands from his flushed face, peering over the tips of his fingers. His black coffee eyes blown exceptionally wide.

“Woah. Hold on now. What?” Peter snorts. He shakes himself free of total shock, frantically nodding, “Uh, yeah? It feels…really fuckin’ awesome, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhm?” You hum a sensual vibration, biting your lip, “Mind if I try something bold then?”

Peter arches a curious brow. You’re kind of a little minx, aren’t you?

“Literally? You can do whatever you want with me, babe. I’m all yours.” He heaves an exasperated laugh.

A smirk dawns your pretty lips, and you shimmy backwards over Peter’s lap. Until the bulging swell of his hardness lies before you, squirming under his jumpsuit. Teasing him, you drag your biting touch down to his crotch. Euphoric cold dances across his pelvis. You stop short of his hard-on, and Peter draws in a ragged breath.

“Awww…feelin’ a little stiff, sweetheart?” You coo in a sultry sound. Peter feels his blood pressure drop to a life-threatening degree, “Let me help you out.”

Testing the metaphorical, frozen waters; you bring your frigid palm over his bulge. You watch Peter for any sign to retract your hand, fixing him with an intense look. But to your surprise, his cock doesn’t soften under your frosty touch. Not like one would expect. Oh, no. The opposite happens, in fact.

“Mmmmhh…oh my god.” He moans, his front teeth clamping hard into his lip. Jolting in response to his own sensitivity, he rolls his hips into your small hand, “Please…”

You squeeze the thick length of him as well as you can over his jumpsuit, applying more pressure. Awkwardly stroking his dick with your wintry tipped fingers. The bleak touch you cast sends chills racing through Peter’s veins, and sharp pleasure rises in his groin.

“F-Fer the record, by the way, this is not how I expected this to go.” Peter shivers, breathlessly chuckling.

“Oh, no?” You mutter, climbing over Peter on your knees. Glacial breath ghosts his lips. You lean in close, giving his cock another firm squeeze, “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Fuuuuuuck no, baby. Not a chance.” Peter groans his reply, lifting his hips. Yearning for more of your gratifying chill. Another wintry wave of cold seizes through his groin, and Peter’s eyes roll back, “Holy shit. That’s it.”

Peter finds himself a little conflicted. His brown hues can’t decide if they wanna gaze into your own, or stare longingly at your lips. In the past, Peter thought about those same lips more often than he’d admit. But to be so up close and personal with them like this…

“I’m not even gonna lie to you, Screwball. I really wanna kiss you right now.” Peter admits defeat. Even in your polar proximity, humiliation burns his cheeks with the force of hellfire.

Knitting your brows, you narrow your eyes. And for a painfully long instant, Peter thinks he’s finally fucked up. As if confessing his desire to kiss you was somehow a step too far over the line.

Is there even a line left between the two of you anymore? Or did you both trip over it the moment you gave him ‘fuck me’ eyes?

You lean in a touch closer, quietly chuckling. Cold puffs of air fan over his lips, a needle-thin space away.

“You’re so silly, y’know that? Why do you keep callin’ me Screwball?” You ask, placing a tantalizing kiss to the corner of his lips. Like the touch of a delicate snowflake, “You make it sound like you think I’m crazy.”

“Well, okay, first of all, you gotta be some kinda crazy. ‘Specially if yer screwin’ around with me.” Peter jokes. He’s beyond winded under the teasing brush of your soft lips, “S-Second of all, it’s an ice cream thing. You ever-uhm…stop by an ice cream truck before?”

Why’s he even doing this? Making casual conversation like it’s a date at the diner. Peter half expects you to pull away. Since this is the least sexiest thing he could be doing. Amazingly, you remain where you are. Trailing kisses across Peter’s cheek, down to his ear. Leaving feather-light sparkles of frost in your wake. Still, they melt within seconds.

“Yeah. Of course I have. So?” You mumble.

He tenses as goosebumps descend down his neck. The tight grip you have on his dick doesn’t let up. Any words Peter planned on saying seem completely lost on him now.

“Uhhhh…Screwball’s the little…it’s got the-uh…gumballs at the bottom. It’s, like, a cone-”

Righteous work, casanova.

“Right. And I’m Screwball because…?”

Damn you, little minx! You know why. The answer’s totally obvious. There’s no way you’re that dense. Nah. You’re just so set on teasing Peter, tempting him to nervously ramble. Like you find his embarrassment…humorous or whatever. Pfffbbtt …

“You messin’ with me? It’s ‘cuz it’s ice cream, yeah? No duh. And ice is, like, yer thing, babe. I dunno. It made more sense in my head.” Peter laughs in spite of himself, “Listen…can I please kiss you? Before I make even more of an ass outta myself?”

In this position, Peter can’t kiss you. Even though it’s all he can think about. You’re too busy mouthing at his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. Fondling his cock in freezing strokes, making him whine under his breath.

Up until this very moment, Peter’s hands remained mostly still. He’d dig his fingernails into your blankets, as the pleasure of freezer burn simmered in his pelvis. But he held himself back from ever really touching you. Since this little interaction wasn’t supposed to end up like this to begin with.

But now? Well…shit.

You knead at his junk like you’re making biscuits, flicking your icy tongue across the skin of his neck. Eliciting another husky whine from deep in his throat. Peter’s pretty sure, judging by your forwardness; you wouldn’t mind so much if he touched you just a little, right? Like, you totally wouldn’t protest if he brought his large hand to the back of your head, would you?

He threads his fingers through your soft hair, tugging your head back gently. Pulling you from his neck, just so he can meet your wanton eyes again. There’s a single second of hesitation, as both of Peter’s hands claim your cheeks. That second seems to stretch for what feels like an hour, while Peter memorizes the features of your face. His racing, speedster heart leaps at the sight.

He swiftly pulls you down for a kiss. It’s clumsy as all get out. Initially, anyway. But if there’s one thing he can actually pride himself on? At the very least, he’s had a lot of experience with canoodling. Kissing you comes as naturally to Peter as running does. His skillful lips and tongue guide yours effortlessly. Coercing you into a heated makeout session. Against his own, your lips are frosty cold. Like drinking crisp water straight from a chilled glass.

Or…it’s more like he’s lapping his tongue across some kind of…slushy ice cream. Like…a Screwball cone, maybe?

No?

Fuck it. Whatever. The only difference is, you don’t taste anything like cherry. You taste like you. And Peter would argue that’s almost better. Almost. Cherry’s pretty hard to beat. It’s a tough competition.

As you fall victim to his bitchin’ makeout skills, Peter indulges himself. He touches you the way he’s dreamed since forever and a day. His hands glide thick fingers down your chilly body. Feeling every glittering facet of your suit under his fingertips. Meeting the curves of your hips, he squeezes them firmly.

“Mmmmm…this is awesome.” Peter breathes, “This is really fuckin’ awesome.” He hums into your lips, stifling a moan by kissing you again. You stroke his clothed cock a little faster, and he chokes, “O-Oh…yer so awesome. Fuck.”

“You’re really awesome yourself. But I’ve always thought that about you.” You titter, nuzzling his nose so tenderly, “The others on the team? Yeah. They’re alright. But you? Peter, you’re the coolest.” You admit with a bashful smile. After locking him in one more, passionate smooch, you pull away, “Sexy too.”

“W-Wait, really? Are you bein’ serious right now?” Peter asks, stupefied. He furrows his brows. Another beat, and he forces himself to smirk proudly, “I-I mean…well, yeah. Pssshh …of course. Why wouldn’t you think that? I’m the bomb, baby.”

Peter keeps his hands on your hips, feeling your ravishing curves. Stroking them with his thumbs. They fit so perfectly in his grasp. And Goddamn, Peter doesn’t ever wanna let go. Mark his words. Right here, right now. He’ll glue his hands to you forever if he has to.

Lowering your ass over his crotch, you keep your erotic gaze focused on his. Your intense eye contact never seems to break for even a moment. Pressing into the exposed, damp skin of his chest, you brace your freezing hands over Peter’s pecs. A filthy moan teases your lips, as you roll your gorgeous hips forward and back. Grinding into his needy bulge.

Oh.

This is happening now. Fuck yeah.

Peter squirms in place, tightening his hold on your hips. His nails tear at the tiny sequins of your jumpsuit, digging into the sparkling material. It’s such a needlessly skin tight thing, for fuck’s sake. Criminally skin tight, even. How did Xavier ever greenlight that? Peter can see the tempting outline of your pussy in it, deliciously rolling into his clothed cock. His mouth waters at the sight. Lifting his hips off the bed, he meets your slow thrusts.

“Ohhhhh. Oh, what the fuck-” He moans an octave louder.

A strangled sound catches in his throat, and you’re quick to shush him the moment it frees itself.

“Pietro, honey, you gotta be quiet, okay?”

Hushed moans pour from your parted lips as you speak his given name. Peter’s completely bushwhacked at the mention of it. Since no one ever – excluding his mom, in her more frustrated moods – uses that name. A tickling flutter erupts with a burst in his belly. He almost creams himself at the sound of that name in your voice.

“Come on. Be good for me. You can be good for me. Can’t you, baby?” You plead. Moving your hips in a painfully slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuuuuck. Babe, please-” Peter begs, “Faster? Faster, please. Yer killin’ me."

Your sharp nails sink into his bare chest, manifesting more glassy shards of frost. Winter cold seizes Peter’s body entirely, infecting him with frostbite’s kiss. Peter knits his brows tightly, his dark eyes mesmerized with your every movement. The freezing solace permeating from your pussy proves a little too overwhelming. As sharp, pinpricks of cold rush through his veins; it all morphs into carnal heat.

His muscles quickly tighten, every inch of him tensing in an instant.

“Wait wait wait! Fuck!” Peter whimpers in desperation, a flurry of moans erupting from his throat. His rock hard cock twitches, pulsating under you as he cums. Leaking thick streams of his seed into his boxers and jumpsuit, “F-Fuck! I’m sorry, baby! Ohhhhh god! I’m so sorry.”

As far as Peter knows, you have no clue he’s a virgin. Until now, he was content with that. He hadn’t planned on announcing it anytime soon. In hindsight, it’s pretty fucking embarrassing how easily he comes undone. All from a little dry humping, no less.

Yeah. You’re bound to figure it out sooner or later. Yikes.

Sticky, white pearls of his cum seep through his jumpsuit, staining the material. Your erotic motions slow to a stop, once you notice the streaks sticking to your clothed cunt. Tilting your head, you raise a brow. A delicate blush swarms your neck and ears, as you stare down at Peter with genuine surprise. He tilts his head back shamefully, sighing.

“D-Did you just-” You hesitate to continue. Wintry fingertips trace over his bare chest, “Damn, Quickie, that was fast.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Peter sighs again, bringing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, “Dammit.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, feeling blistering warmth rapidly return. Taunting him with the promise of death by suffocation all over again. Before he finally succumbs to it, you crawl over him. Knees braced on either side of his body.

“I’m…god, I’m really fuckin’ sorry about that.” Peter awkwardly stammers, “I-I just…fuck! Yer just so-”

You shush him, chuckling, “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. That was so, sooooooo hot. Really hot, if I’m being honest.”

By virtue of his blessed genes, Peter takes very little time to recover. And hell, you make it an impossible feat not to chub up all over again. Your arctic tongue intertwines with his hotter one, as you meet him in another sloppy kiss. Cold hands grasp his cheeks, quickly sliding through his hair. Dragging your nails across Peter’s scalp, you kiss him with more urgency.

Peter sneaks his hands to your juicy ass, warm palms feeling at your plush booty cheeks. He gives one of them a light, playful smack. Drawing out a squeak from you, Peter giggles into your mouthy kisses. He’s distracted enough, he almost doesn’t notice you tugging the zipper of his jumpsuit.

“C’mon, get this thing off already.” You pull the zipper down even further, murmuring through frantic kisses, “Before you die of heat stroke in my bed.”

With a hmph , Peter nods his head, “Hey, if it’s life ‘er death? Guess I’ve got no choice then, huh?” He replies, fabricating his confidence, “Just a sec.”

Peter sits up fully on your bed, his feet absentmindedly kicking a few plushies on the floor. You slide off the bed entirely. Stepping back to give Peter the space he needs. From your perspective, the removal of his sweaty jumpsuit takes less than a second. But from Peter’s own POV, it’s a thousand years before he finally pulls himself out of his clothes. Clumsily, he peels his sticky limbs free.

“Fuckin’ shit-” He curses, struggling to free one of his ankles once he’s done.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint air of raw cold filters through the space of your room. With his body free of stifling clothing; Peter can finally embrace that coolness in full. It bites sharply at his skin, making him shudder. Peter inhales a slow, deep breath just to feel it all

“Oh, wow! It feels damn good in here, Screwball! Like, woahhh! I feel like I’ve been sweatin’ my balls off this whole time until now.” He says.

“That’s the most charming thing you’ve said all day.” You sarcastically chime. And he snorts.

Peter promptly rids himself of his sweat soaked shirt, aching to feel more frigid air on his skin. He tosses the drenched fabric to the floor. Left in his cum stained boxers, Peter shifts uncomfortably on your bed. Self consciously, he gazes at you with a doe eyed look. He twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Sooooooo…uh…a-are you gonna take off yer-uhm…” Peter gives you a once over, gesturing to your jumpsuit.

He lets his long, sturdy legs hang off the side of your bed. Watching as you take slow steps backwards, pulling that tiny, snowflake zipper of yours. Dragging it all the way down. A mischievous spark twinkles in your eye, and Peter’s heart skips a thousand beats. Even though you’re trying your best to be sexy, you’re still just as clumsy as he was.

Which somehow, ultimately makes you even sexier to him.

You peel your limbs out of your glittering jumpsuit. Revealing the underwear beneath, fitting your body in all the right ways. Peter’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flitting up and down your curvaceous form. Drinking in the image of you almost completely bare.

“Holy shit.” Peter mumbles, leaning back and bracing his hands on your bed.

You’re giggling again. Blessing his ears with a precious sound he’s grown to adore over the last…however long it’s been since you invited him in. Peter can’t really remember. It’s impossible to hold any sense of rational thought while watching you like this. Especially when you pull off everything except your little, lace panties. Freeing your-

Whoaaaaaaa, mama.

There they are. In all their beautiful, freezing glory. Your icy cold knockers bounce freely. And with a flawlessly executed jiggle, too. If Peter had a sign, he'd rate them a perfect ten.

The skin of your breasts is heavenly soft, dusted in a faint motif of frosty snowflakes. Nipples perky.

Peter's wondered about those suckers for ages. And you most definitely don't disappoint. He whistles, his eyes flying open. Black pupils dilating like drops of heavy ink. No matter how hard he tries, he can't tear his gaze away from those bouncy beauties.

"Damn, Screwball…" Peter grins, shaking his head, "Yer a smokeshow, babe."

Subconsciously, he palms his hardening dick over his boxer briefs. Momentarily grimacing at the texture of drying cum in the fabric. His focused gaze lingers a little too long on your totally righteous titties. You're talking again. Speaking words in that sweet voice, though they go unheard.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah!

You must have given up on trying. He barely sees you coming, as you collide your lips with his again. Shocking him out of his boob-induced daze. The moment you're in close enough range, he reaches out to touch you. Burning hot palms fondle your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples. Furrowing your brows, you squeal into his mouth.

"Your hands-" You whine, "Your hands are so hot. It's like you're on fire." And Peter chuckles a heated breath in response.

"See? And that's why we're here. Gotta beat the heat somehow, eh?" He says, his hands playing with your frosty titties. Silken and cold on his skin.

Sinking to the floor, you lower yourself onto your knees. Peter knows without an ounce of doubt; your poor knees have to be aching like hell right about now. Yet, you persist. He scoots a little further at the edge of your bed, allowing you to ease yourself between his spread legs. With one less layer of clothing in the way of your touch, the coolness feels even more crisp and harsh over his cock.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles.

Peter stares down at you in awe, curling his fingers into the sheets. Biting your lip with an impish grin, you ease his boxers off completely. As your glimmering eyes meet the full length of his cock, you're instantly enamored. His dick, colored a scarlet hue and pulsing with thick veins, bounces over a silver bush of hair.

You haven't even touched him directly yet. But Peter can already feel that freezing aura easing in close. Swiping your tongue across your plush lips, you gaze at Peter's dick like your hunger hasn't been satiated in weeks.

No words are spoken between you both. As one of your hands treads carefully. Barely touching his thickness with your fingers. You stroke him in slow, but firm motions at first. Peter arches his back in shock, the cold like electricity rushing through his veins. Arctic temperatures rapidly pump his body full of adrenaline.

Maybe that’s why he’s so into this. Being a speedster, he’s always been addicted to the rush of exhilaration.

“Ohhh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Peter moans.

Your strokes slide up to the swollen, purple-ish head of his cock. Squeezing tightly. But the tip is too outrageously sensitive. A simple, icy cold tug of it gets Peter practically seizing. White light flashes through his vision. And just like that, he’s going totally mental. He jumps with an abrupt jerk, his body vibrating.

Peter whimpers in quick gasps, “Ah! N-Not the tip, baby! Not the tip!”

You make a quick retreat, sliding your hand down to the thick base of his length. Pumping his vascular cock in a frosty fist. He can feel his blood vessels constricting with every motion. Cold creeps under his skin, bringing with it a burning sensation. Peter’s groin tightens, and his moans turn to pleading whimpers.

With a cheshire grin, you flutter your lashes over a naughty gaze. Leaning forward, you tease the smooth length of his cock with your lips. Kitten licking a vein with the tip of your tongue.

“W-Wait! Hold on, Screwball! Fuck-” One of Peter’s hands finds your head, clutching strands of your hair between his fingers, “It’s too much, baby! I can’t-”

A long, chilling swipe of your tongue brings momentary crystals of ice. Igniting the burn along his skin. Peter never thought himself a masochist. But this freaky, frosty jerk-off session has somehow completely rewired his brain chemistry. Pain never felt so good.

In all your wickedness, little minx, you refuse to heed Peter’s warning. Your mouth engulfs the scorching heat of his cock. Surrounding him in a crisp, cold shroud. Bringing upon him a vengeance of the bleakest kind. Like a frostbitten hug, sending shockwaves of pleasure fluttering through his bones. Peter’s breathing quickens.

“Ah! FUCK! Gonna fuckin-...I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby! Sorry, sorry, sorr-” He falters over broken whines.

Acting on impulse like the total spaz he is, Peter panics. Tugging your head from his cock so he doesn’t bust a load in your mouth. He lags a few seconds behind. Late again, as per usual.

Peter accidentally showers your precious lips in his cum. Painting your face in hot, messy strands of it. He writhes in place, sluggishly rocking his hips forward. The spurting tip of his dick kisses your lips, the length bouncing with every eruption of thick, sticky heat.

For a second time in a row, he’s blown his load prematurely. Impressive, in a really lame way. But, hey, even if Peter feels a little bad for glossing you in his cum. He’s gotta admit, you look drop dead gorgeous like this.

Peter quickly snaps out of his post-nut daze, his eyes dancing across your decorated face.

Ah. Actually, now that he’s thinking somewhat clearly again…it’s a little gross. He fumbles over an onslaught of apologies. Reaching to the floor for his discarded shirt without thinking, he wipes your face clean of his nut.

Wait. Fuck. Why’d he use his shirt? Shit. Get it together, Quickie!

As always, you’re just as chill about this as you have been everything else, “That wasn’t so bad. But thanks. Sorry about your shirt, though.” You giggle. But all Peter does is shamefully laugh in response.

You’re perceptive enough to catch onto his sudden hesitance. He tenses, avoiding your pretty eyes. Bouncing a nervous leg at the speed of a rabbit’s kicks. Twice now, you’ve seen him finish way too early. And though he knows in his heart you wouldn’t judge him for his lack of experience; a small part of him fears the worst.

He really likes you, actually. It’d hurt like hell if you thought less of him over something so trivial.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” You ask. Playful, but still concerned.

Peter’s heart aches in the presence of your gentle nature. Swallowing his pride, he opts to confess. And if you think him pathetic for being a thirty year old virgin? Fuck it. He’s betting Hank’s mini fridge is still vacant.

You’re resting on your knees in between his legs, tracing feather-light, frosty patterns into his thigh. Peter’s skin swiftly erupts in goosebumps again, his body never accustomed to your arctic touch. Taking a deep breath, he drops his head forward.

“I…gotta be honest with ya about somethin’. I’ts-...” Peter cuts himself off with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, “I’m kind of…a virgin. Y’know, if you couldn’t already tell. I just…didn’t wanna say anything.”

“Pfffttt …” You puff in disbelief, like you’re assuming he’s messing with you. But Peter blinks, staring down into your eyes with a look that tells you he’s all business, “You’re serious? But, Peter, no offense? I’m really surprised! You always seemed like such a player. Like, you flirt with literally everyone.”

Peter stares at you in silence. He shakes his head, brows furrowed. A timid grin curling into his lips.

“I guess? I talk a big game, yeah. And I’ve made out with a lotta girls. Screwed around a few times. But…nah. I’ve never-uh…actually, really screwed. I dunno if the timing was never right or what, but…” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Despite fighting an internal war of crippling shame.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy this then, won’t we?” Your hand rises to his chin, thumb tenderly stroking rough, silver stubble.

His eyes fly open, cheeks swarming a bright red. A beat, and Peter’s dick already twitches to life again at the prospect of your offer. However, despite his body’s insatiable desire, he waves his hands and shakes his head.

“N-No! No, babe! Listen, you don’t have to. I really wasn’t implyin’ anything when I said…uh…it’s just…I-I’ve never told anyone. That's all!”

“It’s fine! I said I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

He swallows, caught off guard by your choice of words. ‘Take care of you.’ His brows raise high, and the cartoonishly fast pounding of his heart returns. Fluttering in his chest, hiking up to sonic speed. Peter opens his mouth to protest, to remind you that you shouldn’t feel pressured into stealing his v-card.

But you’re already pushing yourself off the floor, climbing over Peter on your bed. With your icy hand to his chest, you guide him down onto his back. He gazes up at you with an uncertain, but lustful look in his dark eyes. In spite of the significantly cooler temperature of your room; Peter’s entire body breaks out in a humid sweat.

Okay. Calm down, man. Take a chill pill. Relax.

“You got any condoms?” You ask, blunt and up front.

So. This is really happening, huh? Yeah. Peter’s gonna lose his v-card to one of his teammates. No biggie. Screwing his fellow X-Man Screwball? Totally not a big deal.

Peter swallows dryly again, an awkward chuckle vibrating over his tongue.

“Not on me, no. I don’t really-uhhh…carry those around.” He makes a hasty move to sit up, “But I can run to the store really quick and grab some. Y’wanna snack ‘er a drink while I’m at it? I could really go fer somethin’ sweet like-”

Your frosty lips capture his in yet another, intimate kiss. For the sake of Peter’s inexperience, you take your time. Guiding Peter down onto his back once more. Working with tender consideration. When your tongue so lovingly swirls with his, he scowls. Tasting the lingering bitterness of his nut. He curls his lip.

“Euuuugh! Augh! Blegh! Is that really what I taste like? Eck! I’m so sorry, Screwball. I’ll try to spare ya next time. Eugh. That’s disgusting!” He rambles, overcompensating for his uneasy nerves again.

“Next time?” You raise your brows. Supple, wet lips smirking.

“Y-Yeah? Yeah…like… pfftt …if you want…” Peter shrugs, casual, blinking puppy dog eyes, “I dunno about you, but I’m havin’ a killer time fuckin’ around like this.” He adds, fingers toying with the hem of your panties.

Reaching for his cock, you take his length into your icy cold grip. Peter jolts again, cursing under his breath.

“I need to confess something too.” You say, bashful. Peter watches your facade of confidence diminish for a moment, “Would you still wanna do this if I told you I’m just as cold on the inside?”

“Woah…yeah. Listen, that is the opposite of a problem for me.” Peter reassures you, looking between your bodies, “Call me crazy? I’m really diggin’ the whole cold thing.”

He watches your fingers hook through the hem of your panties, sliding them down your smooth legs. It’s a bit awkward for you to get them off in this position. But eventually, you’re entirely exposed.

No more messing around. This is the real deal.

Wiggling your ass, you position your wintry cunt over his cock’s swollen head. Peter’s fingers tremble as they grab your ass for purchase. Holding you steady, he keeps his lidded gaze on your pussy. Entranced in the sight of your puffy lips lowering over his tip. Barely nudging it in, giving just a little tease of what’s to come. He shivers, muscles locking, shockwaves of glacial cold racing through his veins already.

“Ohhhhhhhh …wow…” He whines, teeth clamping his lip, “Please, ya gotta gimme more than that, baby.”

“Pietro, be patient.” You chastise him, fluttering your eyes closed.

Sighs and erotic moans of euphoria rise from the both of you in unison, just as his leaking tip dives through your cushiony walls. Peter shudders again, craning his neck back. Moaning a broken, strangled sound from deep in his chest. The tight, freezing sting of your cunt causes him to tense up. Peter digs his nails into the flesh of your ass, his lips parting for breath.

“Mmmmmfffuuck. You good? You okay?” You ask, little mewls bubbling in your throat.

Through frantic, wordless intakes of breath, Peter nods.

He’s never felt anything like this in all his thirty years of life. It’s a completely new sensation. The plushiest of pins and needles constricting tightly around his cock. Or the world’s softest pillow, pulled straight out of the freezer. Sex with you is the kind he could so easily become addicted to. If it was possible to stay connected this intimately forever, he’d do so in a heartbeat. No questions asked. Totally worth the searing pain of frostbite.

You take a few moments to adjust to the length and girth of him. It feels like centuries before you’re moving, but the wait is more than worth it. Your cunt weeps around his cock, swallowing him up completely in a frosty slickness. Peter chokes, his breath hitching. The pace you set is frustratingly slow, bouncing into his pelvis in steady slams of bush on silver bush.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that. More? C’mon gimme more, baby, please. Oh, please!” He whines, submissive and needy.

Sitting up a little straighter, you balance your cool hands on his chest. Peter’s skin is all raw and red, frostbitten from your previous teasing. It’s a little painful now, actually. Leaving a tingly burn. But the stinging pain registers as pleasure in Peter’s speedy brain.

Your pussy molds perfectly with the thick shape of him. Roughly shocking you with a surge of dull pain, Peter’s cock knocks straight into your squishy cervix. His expression contorts in overstimulation, his mouth falling open. He wets his lips with his tongue.

“That’s it. Fuckin’ ride me. Mmmmm yeah~” Peter moans, “Yer so fuckin’ cold. Shit-” His moans steadily trail off into whimpers.

“Should I stop? Is it too much?” You halt your movements for a second too long.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ stop.” He groans, animalistic and ragged, “Ohhhh~ Please don’t stop.”

As you thrust your beautiful body into his lap, Peter follows your lead. Driving his hips against your ass with each bounce of contact. Overshadowing that sultry melody of Pink Floyd with the lewd smacking of skin on skin. Your cunt hugs his cock in a grip tight enough to induce more freezer burn. But it’s such an alluring feeling, he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

Peter’s brown-eyed gaze rakes down your body. Intoxicated with the way your titties bounce and your pussy sucks the ever-speeding soul out of him. He has to mentally-prep himself so he doesn’t cum too soon again. But the piercing cold compressing his dick sends thrilling pulses through his limbs. Erotic pleasure burns deep in his gut.

“Pietro!” You cry. Riding his dick and mewling soft kitten noises, you circle your little clit with your fingers, “Want me to cum on your cock, pretty boy? Wanna feel this tight, little pussy cum for you?” 

Ohhhhh. You can’t do that to him. Dirty, little minx. He’s never heard such filthy words like that come out of your mouth. And the way you sound, how you look touching yourself on his cock; It all triggers a carnal instinct in the recesses of his mind.

Peter lifts his hips in a display of super strength, abusing your cervix repeatedly with his cock. Pounding your pussy so fast and hard. With a force deep and rough enough to make you see stars. A filthy squelch of a sound echoes from inside you.

“Oh my god-” Peter’s face contorts in needy desperation, brows creasing, “Please? Wanna feel you cum, baby. Need you to cum on my dick so bad.”

Sitting up on his elbows with his mouth hanging lazily open, Peter brings his fingers to his drooling tongue. His eyes are half lidded and cloudy, almost rolling back into his skull. He reaches out, the wet pads of his fingers meeting your cute bud. He buzzes his digits in a scorching vibration, knowing how sensitive you are to his heat. Easily coaxing you towards release.

“HOH! FUCK-” Peter’s eyes flutter in shock, “ Ohmyfuckingod that’s really fuckin’ tight. ”

His body tenses hard as stone. Feeling you clench around him while he fucks you so deep he thinks he’s reached your stomach. Within a few, measly seconds of teasing vibrations on your clit; you’re cumming. Coating his cock in a wave of crisp slickness. You tremble uncontrollably, tilting your head back and crying like a siren of the arctic seas. Singing a mantra of the name Pietro.

Peter grips your hips hard with both hands, sinking his blunt nails into your skin. Animalistic instinct overflows his mind as soon as he’s reached his own peak. Ecstasy tumbles over Peter in an overwhelming crash, much like an avalanche. And just as he’s pumping you impossibly full of hot, thick ropes of cum; something happens.

His release burns inside you, pooling in a milky heat. A stark contrast to the freezing temperature constantly flowing through your body. Your nails scratch red lines into his chest, manifesting glass crystals of frost. They burn like hell, and Peter hisses. One, final slap of your ass against his lap, and –

A ripple of explosive, winter cold rushes from your body in a flash. The bombastic wave coats your entire room in powdery snow and sheets of ice. Turning the small space into a glorified freezer. It even hits the record player, slowing the final tune of Obscured by Clouds to a creeping stop. Piercing cold fires through Peter’s lungs, and he chokes on it.

…D…Did that really just happen??

Glancing around frantically, he pushes himself up on your bed.

A soft, tingling blanket of snow drapes his body. Peter sputters, quickly brushing as much of it off as he can. You’re still sitting over his lap, his softening dick tucked safely between your pussy’s plush walls. With every puff of warm air from his lungs, Peter can see his breath fanning like smoke through the air.

“Woooahhhhh, babe…” He nudges you on the shoulder to get your attention, his expression wide eyed and bewildered, “Are you seein’ this shit?”

Recovering from your numbing state of euphoria, you lazily scan your room. You gasp, though it sounds more like a really cute squeak; covering your mouth with a hand.

“Ah! What the hell did I do!? I’m sorry! Oh my god, Peter, I’m so sorry!” You say, dropping your face into Peter’s frost-bitten chest.

He hisses as you lean into his sensitive, scarred skin. And before you can spout off another flurry of sweet apologies – a noise catches the attention of you both. Outside, the two of you hear the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter. Joyful cries, followed by playful giggles and screams. You raise your head, meeting Peter’s doe eyes with a questioning look.

Narrowing his eyes, he pats your thigh. Signaling you to hop off his lap.

Clumsily, Peter zips around the room in a blur, searching for something to cover himself up with. But his clothes are all caked in snow. And not to mention a little something else. Peter has to resort to a blanket stuffed underneath all the others on your bed. Untouched by your surprise blizzard. He cloaks himself in the blanket, appearing at your door in a fwip.

Discreetly, he pulls the door open.

Or, at least, he makes an attempt. It’s completely frozen in place, sealed with ice around the lock and hinges.. Why is he even surprised at this point? Peter tugs the handle once or twice with barely any strength. And when that doesn’t work, he jerks it open with a harsh flex of his muscles. He pokes his fluffy, silverette head halfway out the door. Looking up and down the hallways.

Only to find…

Your orgasmic snowstorm reached places far beyond the confined space of your room. Looks like Christmas came early this year. The hallways of Xavier’s mansion are all drenched in frosty spreads of snow. It’s not nearly as much as what’s accumulated in your room. But it’s enough to stir up the students and teachers. Many of the kids run around excitedly. Bouncing, cheering, celebrating.

And who can blame them?

To those unseen forces of the universe out there: thanks for blessing us all with the power of Screwball's ecstasy.

Out of nowhere, the X-Men’s laser eyed leader makes his appearance. Scott comes skidding to a halt outside your door just at that moment. He balances himself with a hand to your door, a genial smile on his face. A fuzzy fust of red tickles the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Across the hall, Logan leans casually against a wall. Puffing a cigar, wearing a thin undershirt that compliments his jacked form a little too well. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his fitted jeans.

For a moment, Scott doesn’t seem to register why Peter’s even in your room.

But in this life, one speedster can only be so lucky.

“Wh-...Peter? Hey-uh…where’s-” Scott mentions your name, and continues, “I wanted to give ‘em my thanks for doing this.” He gestures over his shoulder to the mess of snow covering the walls and floors, “Some of the kids were getting really sick from the weather. And I know Xavier's gonna be pissed, but-...” His voice slowly trails off.

Scott’s smile falls for a beat. But Peter finds it hard to read his emotions without seeing his eyes clearly. Those sunglasses must do him loads of favors on a daily basis. If he tries, he can gauge what’s going through Scott’s head based on the look of surprise that crosses his face. Followed by a sly, knowing grin.

Summers is an intelligent guy. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together.

Especially with the way Peter stands in your doorway. He’s draped in a blanket that clearly isn’t his, shoulders bare underneath. The surface of his skin burns cherry red in some places. His hair is a tousled, fuzzy mess, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink.

Peter awkwardly swallows, avoiding the vibrant gaze of Scott’s red-tinted sunglasses. He directs his attention over his shoulder instead, making accidental eye contact with Logan. Wolvie arches a thick, quizzical brow, his eyes glancing over Peter’s blanketed form.

He really hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about this. But it looks like the cat’s out of the bag.

“You kids better be using protection.” Scott jokes, patronizing.

Which is funny, coming from him. Peter’s got ten years on him at the least.

“Uhhhh, yeah. I’ll totally tell ‘em you said thanks. We cool? Bitchin’. Later, Summers.” Peter rushes through his words ultra fast, before slamming the door shut behind him.

That’ll be a rough one to explain later. But hopefully no one’ll be nosy enough to pry. Besides, Peter doesn’t wanna think about it right now. Since, y’know, he kinda just got laid for the first time. Which is really fucking awesome, now that he can stop and really digest that it happened. And with someone he’s been crushing on too.

Maybe he’s luckier than he thought.

Peter presses his back against your icy door, letting the thick blanket covering his body fall to the floor. Leaving him butt ass naked in your freezer of a room. He rakes his fingers through his hair, cheesing a goofy smile to himself.

“What’s goin’ on? Were you talkin’ to someone?” You ask, emerging from your bathroom and brushing snow off a towel.

“Oh- pfffttt …just Summers. Yeah. He-uh…wanted to tell you thanks. ‘Cuz you kinda went all blizzard on this whole place and now it’s, like-” Peter makes a wide gesture with his hands, mimicking the sound of an avalanche falling. Or, that’s what he tries to do, anyway. He’s never been the best at charades.

“HUH!? What are you-” You rush to your door. Those pretty titties of yours bounce with every step. And Peter ogles them shamelessly. Poking your head through the door, he overhears the sound of your gasp. Followed by the shyest little, “Heyyyyyy, Logan.”

Before you’re closing the door again, marching to your bathroom with your head cast down in shame. 

“Xavier’s gonna kill me, dude! I can’t believe this!” You whisper-shout.

Your bashfulness and frustration are so cute, Peter has to refrain from snickering. And as you reach the doorway, you stop yourself. He catches the motion of your eyes checking him out, before your gazes meet again. Peter smirks.

“Uhm…how was your first time, by the way?” You ask in a quiet, uncertain tone, “Was it…okay?”

Oh, you cannot even be serious right now.

Peter gives you a weird look. Staring at you like you’re some strange, newly discovered entity from a far off universe. Really, you must be, if you’re gonna question a good time like that.

“Okay? Okay?? ” Peter appears before you in less than a blink’s time.

He wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body. Grinning confidently, he darts down to kiss your frosty lips.

“Screwball, baby, that was a total rush. Are you crazy? It’s not every day I make somebody cum so hard they kickstart an early winter, y’know. Not bad fer my first time, if I do say so myself.” He waggles his brows.

I’m really glad I could help you out…” You mutter, smiling so sweet.

Your fingers trace the burns littering Peter’s chest with a feather-light touch. Even the faintest brush makes him wince in pain. But he’s not ashamed to admit it’s totally worth it. What’s a little freezer burn and frostbite between friends, huh?

Or, between…whatever the two of you are now.

“Oh, you did wayyyy more than help me out.” Peter winks, kissing you once more, “You rocked my world babe. Don’t sweat it, ‘kay? I had a great time.”

You saunter off to your bathroom then. And Peter reaches out to playfully smack your ass as you walk away. He admires your gorgeous figure in all its naked glory. His eyes following the jiggle of your booty cheeks.

“Yer still takin’ me on that date, right? Dinner and a movie?” He asks, startling you with his sudden appearance in the bathroom. Peter presses himself into your back, standing tall in comparison to your height.

“Can we hold off? Do you think you can wait until the city isn’t on fire?” You meet his dark eyes in the mirror over the sink, “And it can’t be Howard the Duck.”

“No. It’s most definitely gotta be Howard the Duck.” Peter brings his warm hands to your shoulders, thumbs gliding along your soft skin. He leans down to pepper your sex hair in kisses, “I won’t accept nothin’ else, got it?

“Mmmhm. Shouldn’t I be the judge of that, Peter? Since, like, you keep implying I’m the one paying.”

He scoffs, slowly gliding his large hands over the irresistible curves of your body. He gives a mischievous grin through the mirror, his look oozing speedster charm.

“Who said anything about paying?”

[partycatty]

I have this idea:

Johnny Cage x tomboy (can be gender neutral reader), I see the reader as a introvert, gamer, a bit of a nerd that prefers to wear comfy pants than elegant, tight dresses/skirts. Johnny likes to talk to them cause they can play games together (I believe that johnny being a bit of a gamer is a fact stated in mk1, when we have a Cage's Mansion tutorial?) and so he decided to invite reader to a red carpet event created because of the launch of his new movie. It's first time in their life to attend such thing and they really don't know what to do... (the rest is up to you, they can either fuck before the event while reader is trying to pick a good outfit or just go there and have fun or whatever<3)

johnny cage > zip me up

johnny's not used to seeing his best friend in anything but a hoodie and sweats. what happens when they have to dress outside of their comfort zone?

warnings: nsfw... :3, exhibitionism?, hardcore praising LOL, awkward reader (no rizz ...), reader is written as curvy? LONG POST LOL

notes: i physically cant write dom johnny without it sounding super ooc LOL ALSO!! im so sorry if the formatting is iffy, ive been forced to use desktop and the formatting is completely different than my usual mobile writing

masterlist

honestly, it's hard to gauge what games he'd actually play, so a part of me believes he mainly plays... mortal kombat. and yes, since he is canonically responsible for the franchise existing, he would main himself. or maybe he'd play fortnite, lord knows he'd have his own skin.

"come on, man! you can't keep picking general shao! you can just say you hate me," johnny groans, staring at the character select screen. his favorite thing was to drop tidbits about the characters and compare them to the real life counterparts. "i'm still mentally recovering from witnessing his ugly mug."

you chuckle and lean back in your chair, pulling your headset mic closer to your lips. "would you rather i picked one of your buddies? kenshi, or as you called him, sexy face two?"

"and now you're asking me to beat up my best friend," johnny sighs dramatically. you giggle, and it makes his heart flutter and cheeks redden. thankfully, today was a day your webcams were turned off so you were none the wiser. you make a comment that he's the one that wanted to play a game that features his real friends and actual enemies which earns yet another groan from him.

"if you're gonna be annoying, we could switch to something else?" you offer teasingly. "not my fault you choose to stare at yourself every game instead of learning combos."

"oh hush, you love me," johnny replies, earning a little peep from you out of surprise. he loved to push your buttons and flirt with you. it was in his personality, sure, but because of it you did have a massive crush on him. it was innocent and purehearted, but you just couldn't see yourself risking your great friendship over some silly feelings. "you love it when i'm difficult, don't lie to yourself."

"...shut up," you pathetically try to retort, sinking into your seat and fighting the flush on your face. "are we gonna run another round or what?"

"actually, i had something to ask of you," johnny says, tone suddenly serious and almost unreadable. you feel a pit in your stomach at his tone, wondering if maybe you're in trouble. your mind spirals as you nervously fidget in anticipation. "well, two things actually. could you turn your camera on so i can properly ask you?"

you shakily turn your camera on in discord, anxiously glancing between your monitors and camera lens. johnny smiles to himself, leaning forward get a closer look at you as if you were sitting across the table from him.

"good girl, there we go," he says encouragingly, making your thighs clench as you use your sleeves to hide your face. "no, come on, don't hide. here, let me-" he clicks on his own camera button and his webcam blinks to life. he smiles directly into the camera, and for a moment you're winded at the reminder that you're best friends with a celebrity. "-there. now it doesn't feel like i'm talking to my computer."

"well, you are-" you speak up, ready to go on one of your famous tech tangents. johnny holds up a single finger, shushing you instantly. as much as he'd love to hear your voice for hours on end, he wanted to squeeze out what he was going to say first.

"-hold your tongue, my dearest nerd," johnny quips with a wink. "my favor first." you tense up before he speaks up again. "i've got a movie coming out. finally, right? point is, cris is an absolute no-go, and my assistant couldn't find a damsel to hang off my arm in time for the red carpet. so, next best thing, i was wondering if... you'd be my plus one."

"i-i don't dress up, johnny," you protest, looking away. "all those cameras, all the shouting... not for me."

"it's not all bad," he insists with a smirk. "you'll have me. all you have to do is stay close to me and smile."

you stammer, trying to spill out more excuses for him to give in and stop asking.

"i don't have a dress-"

"i'll buy you twenty."

"nobody knows who i am-"

"eyes'll be on me."

"what if someone laughs at me?"

"doll, have you seen some of these hollywood clowns? you'll look just fine."

you tug at your hair, exasperated. he came prepared with every response, had every reason to bring you to the carpet. you wanted to say no, but truth be told, you missed johnny dearly. you don't get to see him in person often, given your medium distance and his constant work. a meek "fine" escapes your lips and johnny cheers to himself, his excitement painted all over his face. it made you warm how well he was at showing his appreciation at times.

"i knew i could count on you, sweetheart. this means the world to me. i'm getting you tomorrow at three, okay? we're gonna get you a nice dress, i'll get a matching suit tailored... oh, it'll be like prom all over again!" he's gesturing wildly as he hypes himself up over the plan.

"i never went to prom, johnny," you chuckle to yourself, eyes on your keyboard. "i wouldn't know the experience."

"well that's ridiculous," johnny looks surprised at this fact, for a reason you can't pinpoint. "i would have asked you if we knew each other then."

"i'm sure," you agree shyly, turning away to try and hide your blush. "i'll see you tomorrow, johnny."

"see you tomorrow, doll," he smiles at the camera again, and you catch a glimpse of it as you weakly return the expression. then, johnny leaves the call, leaving you huffing and blushing. he just asked you to be his plus one on the red carpet, for his movie, for his fans... all eyes will be on you. the thought terrifies you, but maybe you could push through for your friend. you were a software developer, mostly confined to your dimly lit bedroom. this was a whole new realm!

you roll around on your bed and kick your feet, wondering why you're always so awkward around him. if you fumble at all in public, your world might just fall apart. sleep doesn't come easy for you, but it eventually overpowers your anxiety.

sunlight creeps through your windows. despite your usual tendency to sleep in, your nerves shot you awake slightly earlier than that, and you tried your best to negate your shakiness through games and squeezing in any work projects you could make up - before a firm knock was at your apartment door.

you fly to the door and swing it open, excited to see the only man that gets your heart pumping. he's matching your energy with a cheesy grin, immediately charging at you to embrace you in a bear hug. his cologne makes you tingle as you breathe in his shirt fabric. when he pulls back, he chuckles to admire your attire. you're wearing your usual sweatpants, hoodie, and slippers.

"you clean up nice," he compliments you sarcastically. "it's nice to finally see you, honey." you shrug with a shy smile at his endless pet names. "let's get you into something more flattering, yeah?"

he encourages you to his car, it's one of his nice sports cars with his name printed across the seats. you always felt out of place in his luxurious lifestyle. however, even through the two hour car ride back to malibu, you found yourself familiar and comfortable alongside johnny.

"you didn't have to drive four hours just to see me," you insist quietly, voice muffled against the window as you admire the waters. "it's a lot of trouble for one night."

johnny seems to genuinely seem taken aback by your deprecating comment. he leans over and slides one hand on your knee, patting it gently.

"you know i'd do anything for you," he speaks in that dangerously low tone, stealing quick glances as he desperately tries to focus on the road. "i want you with me."

even after his comforting pat, his hand lingers for a moment, sliding up your thigh with feather touches. you cover your lips with your finger to muffle any whimpers that threatened to escape. you always hated how touchy he was, and by hated, you mean it turned you on embarrassingly easily. as the road straightens out, you realize he's staring directly at you with suspiciously blown out pupils, but snaps back into reality as quickly as you noticed. he clears his throat and removes his hand, settling them both back on the steering wheel.

perhaps he just missed me and wants to be closer, you thought. he's always clingy, he probably just... you're having a hard time justifying his needy glances. they looked off. it's been a stupidly long time since someone eyed you down like that.

after what felt like a thousand years, the city comes into view and johnny parks at a luxury outfit boutique. it's small, but the window mannequins alone make you swallow nervously.

it takes quite some time to decide on a dress, because you internally decide that every possible option is unflattering. each time johnny pulls a dress from the selection, you cringe and shake your head. the sleeves were either too long or too short, the skirt was too flowy or too loose, or the color wasn't quite right.

"how about i pick one for you?" johnny offers, a little exhausted at how difficult you were being. "you just go sit in the dressing room, i'll slide you a couple dresses and don't think too hard about this. you'll look great in anything, my dear."

you agreed with his idea. maybe it'd be best for the celebrity that's known to dress nice to put you in something that'll definitely turn heads and keep you confident. it was unfamiliar territory for you, after all, since the last flattering thing you wore was a one-piece swimsuit on a beach trip with your family.

after some time of fidgeting in the dressing room, johnny slides the curtain aside and greets you with a smile, his veiny arm holding about a dozen dresses. he's got his iconic shit-eating grin as it seems he has something devious in mind for you.

"don't look so afraid," johnny shrugs, nudging you playfully. "i'll treat you right, pinky promise." he holds up the first dress, a flowy one with off-the-shoulder sheer sleeves. it looks like something out of a fairytale, and you're reluctant to deny his suggestion when he's cheesing so damn hard. you smile back and shove him back behind the curtain, giving yourself space to change.

you slide into the dress, catching it on your hips momentarily but pulling it past without tearing it thankfully. when you pull it up to your chest, it takes quite a bit of tugging, seeing as the fabric isn't as stretchy compared to what you're used to. when you fall silent as you try to pull the dress up, johnny assumes you're ready and slides the curtain aside, stepping in eagerly.

"how's it-" he cuts himself off when he gets a good look at you. you're flushed from trying to squeeze into the fabric, and your breasts (that he didn't even know you had) were spilling out of the front. his lips get sucked inward as you witness the gears come to a screeching halt in his head. his eyes may have been hidden from his sunglasses, but you know for a fact he's checking you out. "i like that one." his voice is too monotonous for him to truly be emotionless. it's like it's taking every ounce of his being to be normal.

"i don't," you mumble, continuing your fruitless attempts much to johnny's delight as your boobs ripple with each pull. "i can't get the stupid zipper up in the back, either."

eager hands shoot out to you as johnny takes quick strides to stand behind you. your front is facing the mirror, your hands resting atop your breasts and eyes focused on the man behind you. when his head tilts town to get a good look at the zipper, you notice his eyes are far darker than the typical warm brown.

his hands fumble tremendously as he tries to keep his shit together. he uses one hand to keep the parts together and the other to get the zipper sliding.

the sudden jerk catches you off guard and you're far from balanced. thankfully, your palms press against the mirror to keep yourself upright, and johnny lurches forward as his grip is pulled with you. his hands fly to your waist to ensure he doesn't topple you over.

you would have gotten up like nothing happened, and maybe apologized, but during the scuffle you felt something hard and warm through your skirt. johnny's nose is tucked in the nape of your neck when you fully realize your predicament.

as you sputter out his name to call him out, you feel his lips smile against your back. his hands loosen momentarily, but don't pull away.

"uh, sorry, doll," he mumbles into your skin, not sounding all too apologetic. "pretty girls in dresses just... gets me goin'."

"i'm not pretty," you mutter, averting your gaze. johnny lifts his head and looks at your reflection incredulously.

"you're joking, right?" johnny replies, brows furrowed. "babe, look at yourself." he grabs your jaw from behind and angles your vision on your body. "i didn't know you were carrying all this. i almost want t'take you out and get you a whole new wardrobe just to get you out of those garbage bags you're always in. pardon my french doll, but you're fuckin' hot." as he speaks, his hand snakes down your throat, your shoulder, and then settling firmly on your hip, not even hiding the brief sweep he made against the flesh of your chest.

you're left staring in awe. he was always charming around you, but never outright flirting. you glance toward the curtain; what if someone heard all this? you swallow thickly, moving back to look at johnny apprehensively. he's biting his lower lip, suddenly thrusting more against your body, letting a shaky breath as his face is now buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to hold it together.

"you got me all riled up seeing you in that, you know," he warns you in a husky voice that dampens your panties. "so you can't say you aren't pretty. feel what you did to me." the air feels intensely different than it was when you guys were just friends. he's confessing something he'd implied to feel for quite some time, but you never envisioned the day it'd come to fruition. you can't really say you were complaining when he pulls your hips toward him, letting him use your ass to grind down on ever so slightly. your stillness throws him off for a moment, and he looks up at you through the mirror with concerned eyes. "you don't seem into this. i can stop."

"n-no!" you yelp out, sounding a little more desperate that you'd like to admit. "this is okay."

"just okay?"

"well, no, but - i'm sorry, i don't know what to say."

"do you want me to stop?"

"...no."

"good girl."

he presses a little harder against you, keeping you upright and stopping your knees from buckling with his rough hands. abruptly filled with a primal hunger, johnny tugs the long flowing skirt up in bunches, gripping it tightly to get a glorious view of your ass. this interaction was not prepared for, so you couldn't help but feel flustered when your boyshort panties are fully on display. johnny just chuckles to himself as he grabs a shameless handful of one of your asscheeks anyway, squeezing hard enough to leave red prints behind. you bite down on your lips to stop any noise from coming out, but a moan of surprise slips through.

johnny wraps one arm around your midsection for stability, and the other flies up to your lips to hold his palm over your mouth.

"if you want this, you're gonna stay quiet, is that clear?" he growls into your ear, head tilted toward you but eyes fixated on your reflection's eyes. all you can do is nod. "i'll show you how fuckin' pretty you are."

he slides your panties down with ease, expelling a shaky groan when he watches a trail of your wetness follow the fabric. his cock is swiftly freed from his dress pants and he slides his throbbing tip against your folds, creating a sopping sound to the trained ear. if the store was quiet enough, the entire building would know how soaked you were for your best friend. all you can do is whimper and gasp as your noises are muffled by his hand. johnny leans forward and gently shushes you, lips brushing against your ear.

"you can do it, princess," he assures you in that husky voice before holding intense eye contact in the mirror. "you look so good like this, don't you think?"

your pupils were blown out and your cheeks were stained a deep red as you're bent over for the actor. you didn't feel pretty, still. you felt... needy.

you pressed back against his cock, and it slips between your folds before catching on your aching hole, making you twitch. the sloppy friction makes johnny moan against your skin as he hungrily matches your movements. he slides his hand down and toys with your clit, wetting the area with your own juices which seems to be plentiful. he sticks two fingers inside, not bothering to ease you into the process at all. he needs you now, and if "now" is in a clothing store, then so be it. your pussy burns from the sudden stretching, but you take it because it makes him happy to see how eager you are for him.

"i should've put you in a dress sooner," he mutters, hazy eyes staring right through you as he relishes in the way your walls embrace his fingers. "you look beautiful, my dear. angelic. i wanna ruin you so bad, baby, but i can't. not here." his words already bring you closer, but as you feel the tension building inside he leaves you empty and sopping... but not for long.

his tip slides in with ease, and he has to bite down on your bare shoulder to stop himself from losing it entirely. it's the first time in a long time a pussy has been too good for him. he's stuck his dick anywhere and everywhere, but you take the cake. his bite deepens when he slowly but surely bottoms out, his own knees buckling at your gorgeous insides.

"mmf, so fucking good," he groans into your flesh, eyes clenching shut. "my pretty girl. all mine, yeah?" you nod lazily, too entranced in the fact that his cock is buried inside of you. you'd had sex before, but it had been quite some time. years. and his dick just felt impossibly big.

"i could stay like this forever," he mumbles, almost forgetting to thrust. you remind him quickly when you shake your ass needily. "ah, but i shouldn't. you deserve to feel good."

he pulls out slowly, admiring the thin coat of juice painting his shaft before thrusting back in. he's careful to move just enough to hit deep, but not enough to make the slapping sound too obvious.

"there you go," johnny encourages you as he starts to slowly pump into you. "you take me so well, so pretty with my dick buried in you."

you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. just yesterday, he was your duo in your favorite game. and now, he was fucking into you in public. the thought makes you dizzy and you have a hard time keeping your head upright, that is, until johnny pulls your face up to the mirror again, still muffling you with his palm. you want to say you're the one enjoying it most, but that might be johnny. his once cocky demeanor is now down the drain as he fights for his life to not cum with every second of friction. you were just so good, he's already pussydrunk. he seems to be living in his own heaven when he lazily peppers kisses and licks all around your back, neck, and shoulders, breathy whimpers and moans warming your skin up nicely.

his thrusts grow increasingly sloppy as he completely loses himself against you. his eyes are swapping between you and him in the mirror as he admires your wetness dripping down your thighs and splattering against his own front. he would be mad you were ruining his nice clothes, but he's just going to buy another suit with you anyway.

"you wanna cum on me, doll?" he huffs into your ear, letting go of his fear of the slapping noise and now progressively slamming into you harder and harder. "let me feel it, baby, i'm real close."

johnny's arms readjust, one snaking under your armpit and over your shoulder, and the other rhythmically swirling circles against your clit. what once was hungry groans is now turning into needy whimpers from the both of you as you cum simultaneously. your lower half feels warm as he cums deep inside of you, watching it drip and splatter out with every finishing thrust. your vision becomes tunneled as you see stars, head thrown back as each throb from the orgasm makes you forget you're in public entirely.

he holds you both there for a moment, breathing in your damp skin. you both feel dazed, but incredibly satisfied. johnny kisses your cheek from behind, dancing his way to the corner of your mouth and then captures your lips in a messy, brief kiss.

"you know i didn't need a dress to want you that bad, right?" johnny asks against your lips, his fingers brushing against your bare thighs. "i really do think you're beautiful. always have."

you nod, taking in a quick inhale of breath to gather yourself. "i wasn't sure before."

"well, i hope you are now," johnny chuckles, and kisses you again. "at least, i hope so - hey, hey -" the embrace stops as he steps back and notices his semen dripping down your leg. "don't get that on the carpet. and definitely don't get that on the dress. we're buying that one for the red carpet-" he checks his watch. "-that we're late to. shit."

he doesn't really regret it.

[hoshinasblade]

For real, the animator had ri have been a Hoshina loyalists. Cause no way he looks that bad. For a Narumi prompt it could be funny that he gets with someone that doesn't know him. Someone who doesn't believe he is the 1st division captain because they only see him as the "wet cat" version of himself. And we have Narumi losing his mind over the fact you don't believe him

(not sure where tumblr took my post again because i cant find it lol) the budget went to hoshina and his tight shirt and there was nothing left to animate narumi properly. anyway, this is such a cute and interesting prompt because because yes, he is losing his mind over you not believing he is the cool first division captain 😆

pairing: gen narumi x f!reader trigger warnings: narumi gen is a trigger warning himself, just super short because im not used to writing anything narumi-related yet. hopefully you don't get mad at me anon for not going exactly per the ask lol my brain is a mush right now, i'll try harder on my next fics

the rich man is here, shouted the kids from the hallway. you can hear their hurrying footsteps - excited little taps that in turn triggered your heartbeat to race as well. you shut your eyes, calming yourself down.

narumi gen is not exactly a rich man; the children in the orphanage just calls him that fondly. apparently he has been dropping by for years, way back when you weren't working as a teacher yet. the older orphans refer to him as nii-san.

narumi would bring toys snd snacks for the kids, and would spend time with them until the early evening before he has to say goodbye. last time, he played video games with everyone; he brought crayons and sketch boobs for his visit today, and within an hour, it was eerily quiet - the little girls and boys holding their pencils, drawing all sorts of things.

the youngest in your herd, a six-year old boy with a missing front tooth ran to you when he saw you by the door, showing you his drawing - a stick-man figure with a knife in its hand, and an animal beside it which you were not sure whether it's an oversized dog or a giraffe.

"it's a kaiju, and narumi nii-san is fighting it", the boy explained, and you patted him in the head. "he's a captain of his team, i'm gonna be like him when i grow up!"

you looked at narumi who is sitting on the floor, but he was already looking at you. you shifted your gaze. "this is so pretty, we should display it in the art wall", you suggested to the boy who grinned at you, clapping.

"you know that it's not a good thing to do, lying to kids, right?" the children had bid narumi goodbye just past 7pm, and although some of them cried, narumi was quick to promise he would be back next weekend. you were surprised, he used to only be here once a month.

"huh?" he responded to you with confusion. you walked him out the orphanage to the parking lot outside. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"look, i know you are trying to be nice. and i thank you for that. what you've done for these kids is more than anyone else have done for them. but telling them you're some guy who kills kaiju is wrong. and telling them they can be like you?" you scoffed.

narumi's mouth was wide open before he realized you have finished your speech. "but i am a guy who kills kaiju", he replied, his hand on his chest as if he is swearing on his life. "really, i'm not lying. i'm the captain of my team -"

"right, and you fight kaiju on the daily," you finished his sentence for him.

"yes, i am a real badass, i promise!" he exclaimed when he sensed you do not believe him in the slightest. it looks comical how he looks close to panicking over the fact that you are not buying whatever he's selling. he frowned at you, and you stared at him, the eye contact lasting for a few seconds.

maybe this guy is a con-artist and he makes his living manipulating people, you said to yourself. this would make a lot of sense considering you think he has the good looks to lure people in. narumi had flirted at you once or twice before - or you wish he was flirting and you were not just reading too much on his actions.

"you know if you meet my friends, they would tell you the truth," he suggested, his voice cheerful.

"why would i meet your friends?" you asked, equally confused.

"so they can tell you that i am the coolest captain of the anti-kaiju defense force. they would also tell you i am a good man and a dependable friend," narumi said, reciting maybe the contents of his curriculum vitae to you. is he in a job interview? you wanted to ask but didn't.

you sighed in defeat. "are your friends as exasperating as you are?" you asked in jest.

"come on, let me impress you", he told you with sincerity that is almost startling. you were not expecting him to sound so genuine, so adamant at proving himself to you.

the kids will have their dinner in a few minutes and you will be needed to help out. you gave narumi one last glance before strolling back to the orphanage. "i'm off on fridays", you said.

narumi's smile could have lighted the entire street.

[strawberrylabs]

Goodnight with Genshin characters! (Pt 1)

Featuring: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe

Summary: Nights with some of the Genshin cast based on their voice lines!

Warnings: some of these are quite angsty!(it depends on the voice line of the character), and some also contain spoilers for character lore!

Note: this is my apology post for being a solid 19 posts behind whumptober and ignoring my inbox<///3 im getting there guys I promise!!!

Lyney! (125)

"Good night. If you have trouble falling asleep, I have a few little props used for hypnosis that might help... or Maybe not. Either way, sweet dreams!"

Lyney's gentle smile after his comedic suggestion helps you feel at ease. He comes up with something different every night- you really don't know how he hasn't run out of magic-related-sleep-remedies yet.

He often goes to bed after you. Whether he's up practising some magic for his next show or doing some work for Father in the veil of the night doesn't matter to you. As long as you awake to find him there, unharmed, you can manage falling asleep with out him.

But, on the rare occaision he goes to bed at the same time as you, sharing in your night-time routine and holding your hand under the covers, the two of you can stay up for hours talking about anything, everything and nothing.

Freminet (156)

"You go ahead, I'm gonna stay up and read for a while. Hmm? What am I reading? It's, um... It's about diving. There's a bunch of skills I need to... Anyway, night!"

It's not uncommon for Freminet to read before bed. If you're lucky, he may even read with you next to him, allowing you to read along, always checking to make sure you've finished the page before turning.

Althought every night he says he's reading about diving, or marine life, or automechs, you've learned to pick up on the slight rouge of his cheeks, and the stutter that becomes a little more apparent when he lies about what he's reading. It's on these nights you know he's reading about Pers, and it's on these nights you know to leave him be.

Whether he chooses to sleep with you- in the same bed or the same room or the same house- you know not to betray that trust. And for as long as you respect him and his boundaries, he will be grateful.

Sometimes, in the night, you think you feel yourself awake to a faint 'thank you',

Kazuha (194)

"The wind has ceased... The world is silent, so now is the best time to rest well. See you tomorrow."

Kazuha often doesn't join you during the night, whether you are choosing to sleep or stay up. He opts to sit in the crows nest of the crux, listening to the silence of the night. He'll swear that from up there, it appears as if the world itself has gone to sleep with the night- the sea acts as a blanket for the life below, the stars and moon a night light for the trees and the sand and the surf, the clouds casting a shadow of calm upon the land.

Kazuha spends his nights writing about what he sees, and when you awake you find a poem written in his hand about how the beauty of the night reminds him of you.

On the nights when the land is not calm with dreams, but instead enraged with nightmares, he will sit with you in your cabin, and chat about the day gone by. Despite the conditions outside your walls, you sleep best on those nights. The nights where you awake to find you had both fallen asleep with smiles on your faces, after long conversations that drift into the night on lovesick clouds.

Venti

"Off to the land of nod? Haha, farewell, my friend!" (318)

You loath the nights where Venti bids you goodnight without joining you. You can tell by looking at the way he looks everywhere but you, by the way he laughs- hollow and false, so unlike his usual mellodic, spring filled chuckles- and you can tell by the way he says "friend", that he'll be spending his night alone in the hands of his statue, or at Windrise, or at Stormterrors lair. You know he'll be contemplating the centuries of his past.

He'll sit in his own hands, because they're not really his hands, but the hands of his first companion; and by doing so he can feel that maybe the memory of that unnamed bard who he held so dear is not truly forgotten by his people- after all, they built a statue of him, even if they did it unknowingly. He'll gaze at the bark and the leaves of the tree at Windrise, and recall how he let Mondstadt fall into the hands of couption and tyranny due to his negligance the first time around. He'll gaze upon the ruin's of Stormterro's lair- of Old Mondstadt- and replay the events from thousands of years ago, when he was just too weak, too slow, too powerless to save the first being to make him feel something.

You know you should leave him alone. Let him sort through his mind and his memories. But you also know that his mind plays the nastiest, cruelist of tricks on him- dragging him down with nightmares and jabs of "what if's" and "why's".

So when he turns to retreat into the neverending chasm of his mind, you reach out and grab his hand. You follow him into the chasm, and help brighten the darkness with the light of your presence.

Venti is reluctant to admit it- but he will.

'The monsters of my mind seem a little less scary with you here.'

Cyno

"Goodnight. Now, there's some criminal activity nearby that I'll go deal with."

You can't help but worry about Cyno when he says he's going out late to deal with something like this. You know as the General Mahamatra he has various responsibilities he must uphold. But when you're alone at night, your thoughts wander, and you ponder more on his situation.

You wonder, if his father hadn't suffered such a fate, would Cyno still be doing such dangerous jobs as a Matra? Or would he be a regular Spantamad scholar of the Akademiya? If he hadn't been pushed into this position, would he be lying with you now, drifting to a dreamless sleep with you, and not risking his life without recognition- or at least not the recognition he deserves.

You know it's not your place to think these things. Cyno is happy with his job, happy to follow after his Father, regardless of what things are said about him.

You quash your fears and your thoughts when you hear him return. He never left you for long. You knew he would always return to you. And he had every intention of doing so as long as the need remained.

Childe (182)

"Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!"

You always chuckled at his Ajax's tendancy to call everyone comrade. You teased him about it whenever it happened, and he always laughs with you and exclaims 'it's just habit!'

You know Ajax is busy, and he'd have less work during the day if he worked through the night. But he always insists on going to bed with you.

He created a bed-time-skin-care routine for you both- courtesy of him buying all the products. He puts is hair in a headband and follows the usual plan to a T.

When it's time to sleep, he smiles warmly at you. You pretend not to see the sadness in his eyes. He pretends it isn't there too.

So, for as long as the shadows of night will hide the pair of you, you'll bask in each others warmth, and soak up the laughter and the kisses you share.

And when the morning comes, as Ajax leaves to do jobs you never speak of, you will both eagerly await the fall of the sky's curtains, so you can forget the worries of reality once again.

Hope you enjoyed!

-Strawberry

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