#need to get started.. need to finish up..

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

"What are you doing? It's two in the morning, doll," Toji's voice drawls out, sleep morphing his voice into something quiet and gravelly.

You pause the show you have playing on your phone and look up at Toji, who's leaning against the dining room entryway. He has two random clumps of his hair sticking out, his eyes are slightly puffy with sleep, and there's this pout on his face that just pieces it all together.

"I woke up and wanted something sweet. I had a bite of cake and an orange. Well, two oranges," you say, giving him a glimpse of the progress you've made on the second one. He hums and goes quiet, groggily watching you continue to eat the fruit. "Go back to sleep, baby," you coo. "I'll head back in a few minutes."

"Come back, now. I'm tired," Toji says, crossing his arms over his chest. He really looks like the grumpiest of bears.

You chuckle at the almost whiny sound in his voice. "Five minutes."

"No. Too long."

"Three minutes?" You counteroffer.

Toji shakes his head. "No, baby. Now."

"But..." you hold up your remaining two pieces of orange.

"Finish up. I'm waiting on you."

You sigh and stuff the two pieces of orange in your mouth, before standing up to wash your hands.

You follow behind Toji as he leads you through the dark hallway, back to the bedroom. He waits for you to walk in before shutting the door and joining you on his side of the bed. Immediately, he tries to steal all your warmth, because the sheets and the blanket feel cold on his naked torso and his legs. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and throws an arm over your chest, while his legs trap one of yours between them. He's all consuming.

"Why'd you get out of bed?" You murmur, stroking the back of his head. Toji lets out a quiet grunt, falling silent, again, after. You smile and stop talking so that he can go back to sleep. You bring your phone up and start scrolling through your socials, only to earn another quiet, but more disapproving grunt. "Sorry," your whisper, turning down the brightness of your screen.

"Turn it off, ma. It's too early for you to be awake," Toji chides.

"But I can't go back to sleep. I'm not tired," you explain.

"I can put you down. Just turn it off, alright?"

You sigh, defeatedly, and turn your screen off, before setting it on your nightstand.

"Turn onto your side," Toji tiredly mumbles, instructing you so that he can turn as well and spoon you. His arm goes over your waist and below your shirt to caress the bare skin of your tummy. His thumb slowly strokes your soft skin, moving back and forth in a soothing manner. "Relax," he says, coaxing a relieved sigh out of you. "There you go. You've got sugar in your system, now, ma. It might take a little longer to get you to sleep."

"Sorry," you mumble into your pillow. Your eyes don't feel heavy and you don't feel the least bit sluggish. It always feels nice to have Toji rub your tummy, and this method of getting you to sleep is ninety-nine point nine percent effective, the point one percent being this time.

"I don't think me rubbing your stomach is gonna save you this time," Toji says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He gets a quiet, disappointed sigh from you, followed by silence. He doesn't want you to feel bad. You're not the first person ever to wake up craving something so badly that it doesn't let you stay asleep, and tummy rubs aren't the only method he uses to help you get to sleep. "Want me to go down there and make it all better?" He murmurs.

"You need to sleep, too," you say, considering his own tiredness.

"I'll sleep just fine without you tossing and turning all night. Let me help you."

So, you do. You let him go under the blanket and pull your shorts and underwear down, both in one go. You feel his lips on your thighs, slowly making their way towards the part of you that very quickly grew needy, and once his tongue makes contact with you, your first instinct is to bend your knees and plant your feet on the mattress.

"Relax, baby," Toji says, under the blanket. His hands push on your thighs so that your legs go down, again. "Don't tense up too much. We're getting you to sleep, 'kay?"

"Sorry," you mumble, shutting your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the way Toji's mouth works on you. His hands stay on your thighs and rub your skin, soothingly, with the same gentleness he uses for the tummy rubs he gives you.

All that can be heard as Toji builds you up through the quietness of the night, are your soft breaths and the rustling of sheets, as you squirm and slightly arch off the bed. His tongue offers gentle licks to your clit, before he envelops the sensitive bud with his lips and starts suckling on it. Every time your legs go up, he hums against your cunt and pushes them back down, and it keeps going this way until he's had enough. You don't listen and he's corrected you multiple times, so he had to resort to locking your thighs in place with his arms.

"T-Toji," you whimper out, writhing under him and the relentlessness flicking of his tongue. "Please- Please?"

"Shh... I know, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your cunt, before continuing.

Your legs are quivering and it's so hard to lie still when you've been edged and denied of your orgasm three times, now—all work done by solely his mouth. His soft, warm tongue has been lapping at you for long enough to have thin strings of your arousal and his saliva connecting you to him, even for a mere second, before those strings snap.

It doesn't take much more than Toji sucking on your over sensitive clit for a couple seconds, for you to finally get that powerful orgasm you've been grasping, but never fully reaching. Your toes curl, your hips roll against the mattress as your back arches off the bed, and you gasp sharply, a sound that leads the rest of your sounds of pleasure out, as Toji helps you ride out the sensation. While, normally, he would be a little mean and overstimulate you, even just the slightest bit, he opts out of it, this time, because the purpose of this from the start was to get you to sleep, and based off the sounds you made, Toji knows you're going to sleep so good.

Once you've calmed down, your breathing steadied and your body still on the bed—now entirely relaxed—Toji cleans you up with his tongue. Slow, gentle strokes, because despite this act of kindness being for you to achieve rest, he can't—doesn't want to���waste your sweet essence.

When he's done, he slides your underwear back on and uses your shorts to wipe his face, before tossing them somewhere behind him on the bed. Toji peeks out from under the blanket and takes in your peaceful expression. Your eyes are shut, not a crease in your brows, and your breaths come softly through your nose. This is it.

He tries to be as careful as possible when crawling back up to his side of the bed, not wanting to wake you up after just getting you to sleep. It seems like the coast is clear when his head hits his pillow and he carefully shifts so that he can watch you until he falls asleep. Then, he sees you stir and he starts thinking that maybe the orgasm didn't fully wear you out, but just left you dazed. He doesn't say anything when you briefly open your eyes to look at him, but when you lean in to leave a chaste kiss on his lips, he's furthermore silenced. Immediately after, you bury your face in his chest and doze off for sure, this time. Toji coils around you and instantly returns to his all consuming way of sleeping with you.

[obsesssedblerd]

au where older brother! sukuna realizes just how much he loves his little brother when he's sick.

--

Sukuna is always pretending that he doesn't care for his younger brother, Yuuji. Always throws him around when they're play fighting, jumps out and scares him just because he thinks it's funny, and eats his snacks to get a rise out of him. Typical mean older brother behavior.

But then one morning, it takes the five year-old a little too long to get out of bed.

Sukuna immediately notices how quiet he is and the look of discomfort on his face when he finally makes it to the table for breakfast. Yuuji is usually so quick to devour his food, but today, he's not even touching it, even though it's his favorite breakfast that Sukuna makes for him all of the time despite his grumpy complaints.

"Eat your food, brat. If you keep waiting, it'll get cold," Sukuna grumbles as he nudges the fork next to the boy's plate.

Yuuji silently grabs the fork, unaware of his oldest brother watching him like a hawk. He gathers a forkful of food but drops it with a barely-audible whimper, as if he were in pain. Sukuna has never heard him make that sound before, and his gut twists as his mind starts to run wild. "Can't," he whines. "Don't feel good, Kuna."

"Don't feel good how? If you're—" The room resounds with his loud gasp when Yuuji suddenly whips around faces the ground and vomits. Sukuna's arm shoots forward to stop the young boy from falling off of the chair and onto the floor. "Shit," he hisses through his teeth.

Once he was finished, Yuuji faces him. His labored breathing, teary eyes and trembling body made Sukuna's heart ache within his ribs. "I'm sorry," Yuuji says, and he makes that pained, whimpering sound again. "Know you hate w-when I make a mess. My tummy hurts."

"No, 's okay," Sukuna whispers as he rubs his back in an attempt to comfort him. His crimson eyes are still wide, and his heart is beating so fast and so loud that he can hear it in his ears. "You're okay. It can be cleaned up. Do you feel better?"

Yuuji shakes his head quietly. Sukuna tries to get Yuuji to go to his room to lay down, but he struggles to leave the table. So, he gently lifts him into his arms, avoiding the mess on the floor and walks down the hallway. Sukuna stops by the bathroom and has him rinse his mouth with some mouthwash, then makes it to Yuuji's bedroom and lays him in bed.

"Just stay here, okay? Hey, look, here's your tiger!" Sukuna holds up Yuuji's favorite stuffed animal to try and cheer him up, and his heart sinks when the kid doesn't react excitedly as he usually does. He doesn't gasp happily, his eyes don't light up, and he doesn't smile. Yuuji just weakly tugs the tiger towards him and cuddles against it with a low whine.

"If you need to throw up again, use this bucket, okay? I'll be back in a little bit." Sukuna places an empty trash can next to Yuuji's bed, then leaves his room, going straight back to the kitchen so he can find the cause of his sickness. His mind races as he goes through the contents of the fridge.

He said his stomach hurts. It had to have been something he ate yesterday. Breakfast was the same as usual, we went to that restaurant for lunch, and I made dinner yesterday. The meat was cooked all the way through and the vegetables were fresh. So, maybe it was what he ate at that restaurant for lunch? What could've made him throw up?

Shit, speaking of, he still needed to clean the mess from earlier. He closes the fridge, cleans up the floor, then looks at Yuuji's untouched plate of food. He had to get him to eat somehow.

As Sukuna's putting away the cleaning supplies, he hears Yuuji whine again. He drops what's in his hands and rushes back into his room, only to wince when sees him coughing after throwing up into the bucket he left. Like before, Yuuji frantically apologizes, even though he's begun crying because of the discomfort. "Why are you apologizing, brat? You got into the bucket, so..." Sukuna trails off as he starts thinking about it.

He's apologizing so much because I shout at him so much.

Any little mess, any little mistake that kids his age usually make, any accident at all, and Sukuna would get upset at him. Though Yuuji loves Sukuna and isn't afraid to show it, he's developed a habit of apologizing for every little thing, and it's led to this; him, telling him that he's sorry even though he's sick.

The revelation has him feeling a bit nauseous now. He looks down at his baby brother, who's now laying on his bed with his eyes shut and sniffling, and soothingly strokes his head. "I'm sorry, Yuuji," Sukuna's apology is too quiet, and since Yuuji is exhausted and half-asleep, he doesn't hear it. "I'm gonna help you get better. Promise."

Yuuji takes a small nap as Sukuna frantically searches the internet for an answer, each click only adding to his fear and anxiety. Over the next few hours, Yuuji cycles between refusing food, throwing up, and sleeping. Sukuna knew that he was going to have to get him to a hospital, and he knows how much Yuuji hates hospitals since his grandfather passed away. It would only add to the boy's discomfort.

But he didn't have a choice. If this kept up, it would only get worse. He hasn't eaten anything. As he cleaned up another accident that Yuuji had, all he could think of was how much he missed hearing him laugh as he chased him around, his mischievous giggles as he popped him with rubber bands or drawing stick figures and trying his best to get his tattoos right. Seeing him so sick, so weak, and hearing him cry like this was gut-wrenching.

He's reaching for his phone. Since his car is currently in the shop for repairs—thanks, Gojo—, he's going to need to ask someone for help. Choso is out of town, so there's no point in calling him. But, he does know someone else who will drop everything for Yuuji.

He calls you.

---

pt. 2 coming soon. promise. <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm XI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: An old face watches a match

She wasn't as young as she once was.

Teaching hadn't originally been her first choice as a job but after finishing school and spending a few years bored senseless as a receptionist, at age twenty-five, she'd made the change to teaching children in their first year of school.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was getting older and her students seemed to be just as wild and excitable as they always had been.

This school trip hadn't exactly been planned by the school, not fully anyway but a generous donation from who knows where had her and a few other teachers taking a three classes of wiggling and excited five year olds to a home match for the Barcelona women's team.

"Let's get to our seats now," She says, trying to get everyone in her class seated and happy but it's like trying to fight a group of wet cats - a losing battle.

"Miss, he pushed me!"

"Miss, I want to sit with my friends!"

"Miss, I can't find my bracelet!"

"Miss, my Mami gave me spending money!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

She sighs to herself, rattling off instructions in a way that only a practiced teacher could.

"Lucas, stop pushing people. We use our nice hands with people. Isabella, you can sit next to your friends if there's space. Ana, your bracelet got put into your bag. Pedro, spending money can be used at half time. Now, everyone needs to sit down or else they won't start the match!"

It takes a little while to get all the kids settled and she briefly thinks about how this would be a hell of a lot easier if the school had more people who could chaperone.

It's a fleeting thought because she knows she can't do anything about it now but still, it would be nice.

Nice like it is now to watch one of her old students walk out as one of the most well known footballers not only in Spain but the world as well.

Alexia Putellas, the captain of Barcelona, leads her team out - head held high and back straight. A far cry from the little girl that used to slump in her seat in class and cry when someone took her ball at breaktime.

There weren't many students that she remembered so well - a handful that have ended up in politics, one that somehow ended up at the UN and one whose arrest made national news.

But Alexia was one of the good ones, helpful and polite most of the time.

She can remember though, with startlingly clarity the second day of classes.

It had been her second day as a teacher ever and she'd been supervising the playground at lunch when Alexia had appeared and dragged her off.

She'd dragged her all the way to the slide where you'd been waiting.

"You have to marry us, Miss," Alexia had said, eyes wide and incredibly earnest," We want to get married."

"Er..."

"You have to, miss," You'd joined in," Because we're in love and my Papa always said that people in love get married."

She'd been speechless then but still done as you and Alexia said, a little charmed by those two little girls begging to be married under the slide.

Alexia was easy to follow now, her exploits known throughout the country on and off the pitch. You'd faded though and your old teacher wasn't quite sure where you'd ended up.

Likely something successful and important.

Even as a little girl, you'd had a good work ethic. Work before play, always, was something you'd abided by.

She could see you as something important now. Your parents were doctors, she's pretty sure, so maybe you followed in their footsteps.

It would suit you, she thinks as she watches Alexia slam the ball into the net for a third time today.

Barcelona wins.

But that's entirely to be expected.

What isn't expected though, is for the staff from the team to invite the classes down onto the pitch to meet the players.

"Carlos, don't run! Mia, don't yell over someone! Lucas, again! Stop pushing people! Everyone will get a turn!"

"Some things never change then."

She turns with a smile. "Alexia."

"Hi, Miss."

"You don't have to call me that anymore."

Alexia's brow wrinkles. "What else would I call you? You've always been my teacher."

"You're an adult now, Alexia. You don't have to call me that anymore if you don't want to."

"But I do. Is that alright?"

"That's okay. So long as you want to."

Alexia beams, the same big smile she had as a five year old when she would come to the desk with a picture she drew of herself in the Barcelona kit.

It's still strange to see that exact image in real life.

"I'd like to introduce you to one of my daughters. This is Maya."

"She's beautiful."

"Mi Amor is just changing our other daughter. They'll be out in a minute."

"It's nice to see that you're doing so well. A good job. A nice family."

"We have dogs too! And my wife's old cat! She built me a house, you know? My wife, that is. Not her cat."

It's nice to see that Alexia's word vomit from her childhood hadn't changed much either. She was so stoic and quiet most of the time but any topic that drew her interest could be (and would be) talked about for hours at a time.

"That's nice to hear, Alexia."

"And we bought a villa in Greece for our next holiday! And I bought her this nice matching bracelet and necklace set! But! You can't tell her because it's going to be a surprise!"

"A special occasion?"

Alexia looks affronted at the idea. "I don't need a special occasion to show my wife how much I love her! Just my love!" She turns, glancing over her shoulder and her whole face lights up. "Oh! Amor, you're back! Look, Miss Rivera is here!"

Miss Rivera looks over to the tunnel where you have emerged from, a babbling baby on your hip and a rock of a ring on your hand.

"Oh, hi, Miss!"

She sighs. "I told Alexia that you two don't need to call me that anymore."

You frown. "But you've always been our teacher. What else would we call you?"

"Miss, this is our new baby Elena." Alexia puffs out her chest proudly. "My wife gave birth to her. Doesn't she look good for giving birth a few months ago?"

You slap her on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to where you just slapped. "Don't listen to her, Miss. She'll take any excuse to talk about it."

Alexia nods solemnly. "It was very scary because there were complications but she's doing so well now. Both Elena and my wife. Right, Amor? She's a doctor, you know. Very successful."

Again, Alexia seems to preen like a peacock as if you being so successful and so smart brought her such pride.

"You've both been very successful," Miss Rivera says," I'm so proud. A long way from that marriage under the slide, huh?"

You grin, intertwining your fingers with Alexia's.

"But still married."

[ifwdominicfike]

matt loves when you overstimulate him

── .✦. ──

“c’mon sweet boy, you can do one more right?” your hips coming to a halt, letting him gather his thoughts and try to speak up with something other than whines and babbles. “yes, yes mama! p-please don’ stop” his hands tightened on your hips to move you while he desperately bucks his hips up into you.

you giggle at his neediness and start bouncing up and down faster once again, hearing the hisses and moans under you only makes you go faster. all while under you he continues to slur his words while trying his hardest not to come, not without your permission of course.

“look at you, my big boy—“ your thighs starting to burn from the constant movement as you point to the prominent bulge on your stomach, your hand goes to neck — gripping softly. “i said look matt, or y’want me to stop?” he hisses at his real name being used, he whines at your vulgar tone and shakes his head no. “no! no please don’t stop- no” his eyes shooting open, looking up at you with a pleading look.

“then look sweetheart, y’so big for mommy — filling me up so well, yeah?” your grin makes his eyes roll as he groans and throwing his head all while muttering nonsense. “y-yes m’fuck! m’so big for you mommy, c-can i come..?” his heavy breathing and teary eyes almost make you give it to him, but you wanted to make him suffer just a little longer. you had been spoiling him all night with orgasm after orgasm, you wanted to have some fun now.

“no baby, you can come after mama, ‘kay?” your thumb caressing his bottom lip, trying to soothe him. “o-okay, i-i’ll be good f’you” you then slip your thumb between his lips, watching him eagerly take it into his mouth and toy with it. “good boy, always so eager to please hm?” he nods quickly and starts to buck his hips up harder, feeling you coming closer and closer to finishing.

your moans are getting mixed up with his as you reach your peak, trying to muffle them into his neck all while praising him. “yes- yes! oh — my precious boy, you’re so g-good, so perfect-“ he interrupts you with begs and cries to let him cum, all while he’s on the verge of tears.

all it took was a simple yes to have him crumbling underneath you, as he wraps his arms around you and fills you up. “m-mama, mmm” he could barely understand what he was saying, before he could get another word out you shush him, placing a finger over his lips. “just calm down baby, i know, i know.” all while stroking his messy hair as his eyes fluttered shut.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

first time writing mommy kink… I LOVE SUB MATT. I NEED SUB MATT. i chant loudly, ANYWAY! im so sorry for being lazy with putting stuff out, i literally wanna delete all my fics so bad. (also this wasnt really an “overstimulating” fic i kinda went off BUT WHO CARES.)

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott @cherrynflowergarden @sturnsmia @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @chaossturns @emely9274 @sturn777

[incomplete-leclerc]

　𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗧, 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧.　oscar piastri · #81

　　　your boyfriend loves to take naps, and occasionally, you decide to join him.

genres : fluff ... established relationship.　word count : 0.7k.　warnings : none.　 note : my first official f1 fic!! super excited but also nervous to be posting this :') it's the start of a new era <3　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

Oscar took the chance to nap whenever he could. The constant jetlag messed up his sleep schedule throughout the entire season, so when his body felt tired and there was even 5 minutes to spare, he would take the chance. Lando, not missing any opportunity to tease him about something, said it was because he was still going through growth spurts at twenty-three. 

Given your boyfriend’s habit and love for sleep, you often arrived to see him completely knocked out, whether in the garage, hotel room, or at home. It was endearing, and you had your own way of finding enjoyment in his habit. For instance, your camera roll was overflowing with sleepy Oscar pics; excellent blackmail material if you ever needed it, but most often, you just looked at them whenever you missed him. But your favourite part of it all was waking him up.

Tousling his hair, poking his cheek, booping his nose, kissing his forehead or lips— your methods were practically endless. A lovesick smile was permanently stuck on your face whenever you heard the groggy mumbles he let out as he woke up or saw his scrunched up face at the feeling of your touch. There was a certain charm to all his clumsy, loserish habits, contrasting so starkly with his confidence on track. There were many sides to Oscar, and you had fallen in love with all of them over the years.

It was around 2PM when you opened the door to your apartment, grocery bags in hand. It had been a day full of miscellaneous errands that you had kept putting off, one of which was stocking up on Oscar’s favourite snacks. Now that the 2024 season was finished and he was back home with you— yours for the next four months— you wanted to cook him some of his favourite meals. You had expected to see Oscar in the kitchen or living room, as he usually was. But the house was unusually quiet as you put away food in the fridge. Though, one look into your bedroom told you where he had been hiding.

After knowing Oscar since you were teenagers, it was unsurprising to you when you found him fast asleep on your bed, hugging your pillow to his chest. You smiled at the sight, figuring he must still be struggling to adjust back to the timezone. With you gone first thing in the morning, there wasn’t anything to keep him awake, either. It was no secret that Oscar was the clingier of you two (quite a problem when it came to races conflicting with your schedule), and for all the hoodies and shirts of his that you stole, he liked your pillows. 

The mere sight of your boyfriend comfortably cosied under the blankets on the bed had you starting to feel drowsy yourself. You hesitated for a second about whether to wake him up, join him, or leave him entirely and drink another cup of coffee to get through the day. But you realized quickly that more than anything, you missed his touch the last couple days. Cuddles to sleep was all you craved for. So with all hesitation gone, you climbed up on the bed, easily slipping your arms around Oscar’s waist, hugging his back. The movement was enough to wake him, and he blinked, slightly dazed as he turned around in your arms. 

“You’re back,” he mumbled, words barely above a whisper before he closed his eyes again like a cat squinting in the sun. You giggled, adjusting the pillows as Oscar nuzzled closer to you. “You smell nice… did you get a new perfume?” 

You smiled, closing your eyes as well as Oscar wrapped his arms around your waist and your hands found their way to his hair. “I did. It’s peach. You like it?” He hummed in confirmation. “Still jet lagged?”

A gentle squeeze from Oscar was all the answer you got, but it was all you needed to understand. With the scent of your perfume, your hands threading through his hair, and a soft kiss pressed to his lips, he was already falling back into his dreamland. You soon followed, wrapped in his arms; close, content, and comfortable.

[iamzer0]

May you please do yandere platonic season 2 squid game reader with 13 year old reader who wants to stay

Hi can do!

Yᴀɴ��ᴇʀᴇ Pʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ Sǫᴜɪᴅ Gᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ Tᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS)

You had managed to get yourself into the games, congratulations..! I guess..

You tried to blend in but you stuck out like a sore thumb.

So many people had questions especially this guy named Gi-hun.

For some odd reason he was very insistent on you leaving.

You just couldn’t understand why, all you were gonna do was play some silly games for some cash.

How dangerous can that be?

During the first game red light green light, you knew you had this in the bag.

That was until the first shot was fired, your entire body froze. Even with Gi-hun screaming instructions you were still frozen.

Even when people began to start moving again you stood there frozen.

Tears are down your face, you were terrified.

Then someone grabbed your shoulder, it was this lady with a lip ring(player380).

She guided you along the field.

You had 30 seconds left, the people that were at the finish line screamed words of encouragement towards you.

It was strange to have so many people cheering you on all at once.

You crossed the line finally, and collapsed into player 380’s arms.

After the game you sat on the floor, ignoring the sympathetic looks from others.

You sat there thinking on what to do.

Thats when player 388 came and sat with you, he introduced himself and his friends to you.

“Are you ok..?” Gi-hun asked in a tone that could only be described as pity.

“Yea.. I think” you said quietly.

That’s when armed guards came in, they told y’all about the voting system and how you could vote to stay in the game or not.

Everyone placed their votes when it was your turn the room became eerily silent.

You could feel everyone’s eyes staring at you. Your hand hovered over the X button but then you thought about it.

About your parents and their struggle, you thought about all the loans they had to take out just to keep you in school.

You hesitated before pushing the O button.

You heard a collection of gasps and cheers.

You slowly walked towards the O side avoiding Gi-Huns look of disbelief.

You were met with pats on the back and words of support.

Then in a flash you were pulled to the side by some purpled haired guy(thanos) he did his whole introduction.

You thought he was insane, he looked cracked out.

But every time you tried leaving he would pull you back.

He looked at you as if you were an artifact that needed safe keeping.

Fortunately you pulled away by dae-ho(388).

That was when you met player 001(frontman) he stared at you intensely studying you.

They questioned you on why you chose O but you didn’t feel like explaining yourself.

From then on you had multiple people trying to convince you to join their side. They wanted you to quit the game.

You protested you wanted to stay in, but no matter what you said they never let up.

You started to not like the people you were stuck with.

Part of the reason was they treated you like a baby, some of them even coddled you.

It was nice a first, people gave you some of their food, they lended their protection to you.

But in the end it became much more annoying rather than loving.

Around the second game is when things got really bad.

People all around you offering for you to join their team, you walked around until you got pulled onto Thanos team.

You were in charge or spinning top and all though you were good you could barely focus with all the people yelling.

You managed but not before yelling some very unkind words.

After the games you had people practically swarming you, you wanted to cry and throw up all at the same time.

Then a miracle happened, player 001 pulled you out of the crowd.

Yelling at them all while holding you close to himself.

He held you close for a while, it got kinda awkward after the first 20 minutes.

It was a very overwhelming experience being in the game, along with the killing games, people were starting to seriously scare you.

I mean they were having full on arguments over you. It was kinda insane.

Even the guards treated you differently, they gave you the occasional head pat after a game, they slipped you extra food, and no matter what time it was they always let you use the restroom.

It was nice to have so many people care about you but care becomes smothering after a while.

You started becoming the apple of everyone’s eye, everyone was just so 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜.

A/n: I hoped you liked this one, I love u all so much bye bye✌︎('ω')✌︎

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED??!!

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Cass is not having a good time. From the Arkham breakout last week all the way to losing a bet with his siblings on who is going to attend the gala with Bruce. And now this annoying lady kept asking her about her preference in men or something. And Bruce can't help her since he is being occupied by those rich assholes about investment or stuff.

Vicky: So, Miss Wayne. Is it true that you have a secret boyfriend?

Cass: No.

Vicky: Then how about that pict-

Cass: I'm already married.

Vicky blue screened as Cass finished her sentence. Cass takes the chance and slips away from her before she starts barraging her with questions. Revealing that she is married may not be the smartest thing she has done but she is very annoyed at people who keep asking her about her secret significant other. If they want to ask, at least use the proper term.

Just as Cass reaches the hallway, she is scooped up by two strong arms and is carried away to the Batcave. Cass looks to her side to see Dick and Jason both holding one of her arms each and looking very pissed. Well, Dick looks very pissed. Jason looks like he is having fun. Cass doesn't struggle and just lets her brothers carry her to the Batcave to have the talk.

They put Cass on the couch and proceed to guard the exit of the cave on the off chance that she decides to escape. Not that she would because she and her husband have been thinking of breaking the news to their respective family for awhile now.

She waited for a few hours while playing on her phone. Her main phone. Not the one she used to contact her husband since this family has a lot of competent hackers. She knows that being married is like a big deal. But she doesn't expect it to be such a big deal.

When she says everyone is here, she means everyone. From all his close family all the way to Selina (Bruce's fiancee), Roy (Jason's boyfriend), Kori (Dick's wife), Kon (Tim's boyfriend), Jon (Damian's bff) and even Harley and Ivy is here. She is also pretty sure that Clark is listening from somewhere but it's not like she is trying to keep it a secret anymore, so the more people there are the less she needs to explain.

Harper: So what are we here again? I would rather be home to polish my new gun than in this cave.

Dick: Since everyone is here, I would like to apologize for calling all of you in such short notice.

A murmur ranging from 'it's fine' all the way to 'I want to sleep' sounded in the room.

Dick: Anyway, let's get to the main topic shall we. For starters, I would like to say that none of us wishes to control who you dated nor who you choose to be your partner.

Some more murmurs sounded in the room.

Dick: HOWEVER! We would really appreciate it if you wish to marry someone, at least notify one of us since being married is a big deal.

More murmurs sounded as all of them have a rough idea on what the topic going to be.

Dick: So, the person in question, would you like to explain yourself?

A spotlight lights up on top of Cass, directing all the people's attention to her. She doesn't even know there is a spotlight installed in the cave.Cass stands up and looks at the crowd. She replies, "No."

Everyone is stunned by her reply. They expect many types of replies but no is certainly not one of them.

Tim: Fuck you mean no?

Alfred: I would prefer this conversation to remain civil and proper please master Timothy. I would also like to express my extreme displeasure at the fact that I am not notified by your marriage Mistress Cassandra.

Cass goes still at Alfred's sentence. Okay, shit is really serious. As much as she loves messing with them, she would rather not have her food burnt on the inside. (No one knows how Alfred manages to do that.)

Cass: Ehem, I'm just messing with you. It is a long story but to make it short, my husband and I met when we were in Hong Kong. We met after he got roped in one of the gangs that I was busting. After we met and a little misunderstanding, he helped me to dismantle the underground drug labs across Hong Kong.

Tim: So he is also a vigilante?

Cass: Ex-vigilante. He has a daughter now so he is taking care of her.

Dick: You get pregnant?!! How? When?

Cass: I did not get pregnant. But she is technically my daughter.

Jason: Like how Lian is with me?

Cass: No. Biological daughter.

Kon: Umm, guys. I think Bruce needs to rest a little. His heart has been beating a little too fast for even him.

Dick and and Tim are closest to Bruce realizing that Bruce's face has been impossibly pale for quite a while now. They take him to an empty couch and let him lay there and rest for a while. Everyone's reactions range from amused to straight up concerned that Bruce's career as Batman might get cut short today.

It takes a while but as soon as Bruce is fine, they continue another round of questions and answers.

Bruce: How long have you been married?

Cass: Next week is our 3rd anniversary.

Duke: Wait. Didn't you plan to go to Hong Kong for some time next week? You even ask me to cover your patrol because you say you need to go somewhere.

Cass: I don't lie. I missed last year's anniversary since there was an Arkham breakout at the time.

Duke: Dude, still not cool. You are going on a date with your husband while I need to spend hours running on top of buildings around Gotham. So not fair.

Jason: Was the present you asked me to send last year also was for your husband?

Cass: Yes.

Jason: I've been your middle man all this time and I don't even know.

Barbara: I found it! This is the registration for marriage between Cassie Cain and Daniel Fenton. You used a fake name?

Cass: Yes. You will know otherwise.

Bruce: Why do you hide it?

Cass: I'm not sure all of you are gonna like him and vice versa.

Dick: Is he a bad person? I will kill him if he treats you badly.

Cass: No. He doesn't trust all of you at first.

Steph: And why is that?

Cass: He thinks the Justice League is working with the government. So by extension, all of you are associates of government to him.

Steph: Why is he running away from the government? Is he a criminal?

Barbara: No. He doesn't have any criminal records in his name. Except for the fact that he is practically nonexistent before he is 18, there is nothing wrong with him.

Tim: Is it a forged identity then?

Cass: No. The government wiped away his records.

Dick: What? Why?

Cass: I don't know.

Damian: I expect you to at least do a background check on someone before marrying them, Cain.

Dick: Did you get married with someone you barely know? Do you understand how dangerous that is? What if he just dipped you after you got married?

Cass: *Rolls her eyes* He isn't a bad person. I make sure of that at least. I know he is some sort of meta tho-

A green portal suddenly appears out of thin air making everyone be on guard except Cass. She expects Danny to come out of the portal to greet her but what comes out baffled her.

A young girl that looks a little like Cass riding on a big wolf comes out of the portal swiftly towards Cass. Everyone is just about to shoot their weapons when the girl's word shock them.

???:Mama!

Everyone: Mama?!!

[seanminfl]

It was a chilly night in January when my little brother, Jake, and I were sitting in the living room watching TV. Dad was in bed, sick with a terrible cold, and mom was out grocery shopping.

"Hey, Alex," Jake said, looking over at me with a sly grin. "I've got this itch that needs scratching, and you know how desperate I am."

I raised an eyebrow, curious about what he meant. "Oh yeah? What kind of itch?"

"The kind that I usually force dad to take care of," he replied, his gaze now fixed on me. I was well aware of how my little brother loved to use my dad as his personal sex toy.

I couldn't help but blush at his boldness. "Jake, what are you talking about? You know I'm not into that stuff."

He scoffed, waving off my concerns dismissively. "I don’t care. I just want a cocksucker right now and you are the only person here who isn’t sick."

I tried to argue, but Jake had already made up his mind. He dropped his jeans to the floor, showing off his massive dick. "Get on your knees, Alex," he commanded.

I hesitated for a moment, but I could already feel my mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock. With a deep breath, I slowly lowered myself onto the floor, positioning myself between Jake's legs.

"That's a good boy," Jake cooed, stroking his shaft as he looked down at me. "Now, open that pretty little mouth of yours and show me how well you can suck cock."

I obeyed, parting my lips and taking the head of his dick into my mouth. Jake let out a groan of pleasure, his grip on his cock tightening as I began to suck him off.

"Fuck, yeah," he growled, thrusting his hips forward to push more of his length into my mouth. "You're a natural at this, aren't you?"

I moaned around his cock, the taste of his precum coating my tongue. I reached up to cup his balls, gently massaging them as I continued to suck him.

"Play with my asshole too," Jake panted, his voice raw with lust. "I want to feel your fingers probing my hole while I fuck your face."

I did as he asked, sliding one hand down between his legs and pressing my index finger against his tight pucker. As I worked my finger back and forth against his opening, Jake let out a low, guttural moan.

"Fuck, you dirty little slut," he hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and using it to control the pace of my blowjob. "You're going to make me cum so fucking hard, aren't you?"

I could only moan in response, my own dick now rock-hard and throbbing painfully in my pants. I knew I shouldn't enjoy this so much, but there was no denying the intense arousal I felt at being Jake's personal little cocksucker.

"I'm going to breed that slutty little mouth of yours," Jake panted, his breathing now ragged and shallow. "You're going to swallow every fucking drop of my hot, sticky cum."

With a final thrust, Jake's cock twitched violently inside my mouth, and I felt the first hot spurt of his seed splash against the back of my throat. I instinctively swallowed around him, eager to please my dominant older brother.

"Aaaah, fuck, yeah," Jake groaned, his hips jerking spasmodically as he grabbed my head with both hands and pushed me deep onto his cock as he continued to pump his load into my waiting mouth. "That's it, you little cumdump. You're such a good cockslut for me."

When he was finally finished, Jake pulled his softening dick from between my lips, a satisfied smile now playing across his handsome face. "Well, well," he said, looking down at me with a smug grin. "I must say, I'm quite impressed with your performance tonight."

I blushed fiercely, unable to meet his gaze as I felt a mixture of shame and desire swirling within me as I used my tongue to clean his cock. "Thanks, I guess," I mumbled, still reeling from the intensity of what had just happened between us.

"Don't mention it," Jake replied. "Looks like I now have two mouths to use when I want to pump out a load. Might even start using that tight ass of yours as well.”

I nodded mutely, knowing that any protests I might make would fall on deaf ears. And as I felt Jake's cum continue to trickle down my throat, I couldn't help but admit to myself that there was a part of me that secretly enjoyed being used like this by my powerful, aggressive younger brother.

For more follow @xxxstudssss

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi! I love the pizzeria so much <333 I was wondering if I could get a thin crust pizza (sainz!reader) with red sauce, shallots, gorgonzola, egg, and ricotta. For a drink i’d like diet pepsi and redbull. I would like dessert & to be served by Lando <3 thank you!!!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

Lando x Sainz!reader

AN: IM BACKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!! Get ready bitches! Better buckle up and get ready to join the new and improved Whore house! While I cannot promise a 100% perfect schedule I do intend to do my best to follow the schedule! I hope everyone had an amazing holiday season and is finally able to relax a bit!

TW: unprotected sex, PinV, oral (f receiving), quickie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

WC: 1.6K

thin crust brothers best friend red sauce rough sex shallots "I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" egg "Why so needy?" ricotta "I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name" diet pepsi biting red bull hickeys dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Y/N POV

"Lando come on," I whisper while pulling his arm towards the back of the vacation home we would be staying in for the New Years.

This year my entire family has decided to join Lando and I's friends on our annual trip to Dubai for New Years and they have successfully managed to give Lando and I absolutely no alone time.

It's New Years Eve early in the morning and I woke up to find out my family has decided to go play a round of gold while the girls went to the shops.

"Why so needy?" Lando asks with a small smirk making me whine and continue pulling him towards our room.

"Lando I haven't gotten you alone other than to sleep since we got here and before that we were in England with your family, I need you!" I say while pulling him into our room and pushing him onto the bed.

"Please baby," I whine climbing into his lap and pulling his mouth to mine. When I feel Lando's arms wrap around my waist and rest his hands on my hips giving me a rough squeeze I start grinding down into Lando's crotch making both of us gasp and moan out from the stimulation neither of us had gotten in far too long.

"Fuck," Lando groans out when I start trailing my kisses from his mouth down to his neck where I allow my teeth to sink into the side of his neck making him roll his eyes back from the pleasure.

I leave a small hickey behind before I sit back up slightly and pull Lando's shirt off of his body.

"Fuck, you're so hot," I groan when I finally see the tanned chest I've been missing.

"We gotta be quick," Lando groans pulling me back in for a kiss while he makes quick work of taking off my shirt which is actually just one of Lando's Quadrant hoodies.

Once my bare chest is revealed to Lando he quickly attaches his mouth to one of my stiffened nipples giving it a little suck before sinking his teeth down making me throw my head back with a moan.

"Oh fuck," I moan when I feel Lando soothing out the slight sting by running his tongue along the freshly bitten skin.

While Lando is using his mouth to tease my nipples I reach my hands between our bodies and work to unbutton the buttons of his jeans and unzipping them just enough to sneak my hand inside and pull out his already throbbing member.

"Fuck baby," Lando gasps pulling his mouth away from my tits only to to go and burry his face into my neck finding my sweet spot with no problems before bitting down and leaving his teeth marks behind.

"Lando!" I chastize even though I had just done the same to him.

"What can I say, I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you." Lando says with a smirk making me jokingly roll my eyes before pulling him by the neck back in for another kiss.

Lando softly pushes me off his lap and tells me to finish getting undressed making me rush to finish pulling off my sweats and soaked through thong while Lando did the same with his jeans and boxers.

Once Lando and I were naked he pulls me into him by my hips before planting his mouth back onto mine. I moan softly into the kiss while Lando lifts me into his arms letting me wrap my legs aground his waist where he walks up back to the bed and ,says me down, Once my back softly hits the mattress Lando brings his mouth back down to mine where he starts trailing kisses from my mouth down to my neck where I can feel him leaving a few light hickeys behind before he finally brings his mouth close to where I've been waiting all week to feel him.

"Please Lan. I need you so bad," I whine out making Lando smirk softly at my begging.

"Quite the desperate little thing aren't ya," Lando says with a smirk only making a small while in protests and trying to pull him closer by the grip I have on his curls but to no aveil I have to wait until Lando brings his mouth to where I need him and when he finally licks a long soft strip from my dripping hole to my throbbing clit the sound I let out can only be explained as animalistic.

"Yes," I cry out when I feel Lando start lapping at my clit with more intent.

"Fuck, you taste so good," Lando groans into my clit making me moan loudly at the new vibrations being sent straight to my clit.

"Lando, I'm gonna cum," I cry out when I feel him plunge two thick fingers deep into my pussy.

"Go on, cum for me pretty girl," Lando says fucking his fingers into me harder while stille using his tongue to tease my clit.

I can't help the loud moan that leaves my mouth when I start to cum all over Lando's fingers and mouth.

"Oh fuck, fuck Lan, so good," I breath while squirming my hips away from his relentless mouth, feeling the overstimulation start to take over just a bit.

"Lan, too much," I cry out trying to push his away softly but it only makes Lando chuckle a little before holding my hips down harder allowing himself to continue to feast on my pussy without fear of me being able to squirm away.

When Lando has finally got his fix he slowly pulls away from my overly sensitive pussy before bringing his slick covered mouth to mine and planting a wet kiss.

I let out a softly moan when I taste myself on Lando's lips which only makes him giggle softly.

"I thought you said we have to be quick," I tease even though I was not complaining in any capacity,

"I couldn't help it. I haven't gotten a waste is a week," Lando whispers whichs make me smirk softly.

"Why so needy," I teasingly mock the words Lando used on my earlier. Lando just cocks and eyebrow before pinching my hip as a teasing warning.

Lando grabs his hard cock in his hand and runs it through my folds before pushing deep into my pussy making me cry out at the feeling of being filled up.

"Oh fuck Lando," I cry out when I feel Lando start rocking his hips into mine bringing in just enough stimulation for me to feel him filling me up but not enough to bring me close to an orgasm.

"I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name," Lando mumbles against my lips before he starts thrusting his hips in and out of my pussy making me cry out even louder at the stimulation.

Once Lando can tell my pussy has adjusted to his size he starts thrusting his hips harder and faster making me scream out.

"Fuck, so fucking tight," Lando grunts keeping the same rough pace.

"Fuck," I cry out when I can feel another orgasm starting to build deep within my stomach.

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Lando teases only fucking into me harder knowing how close I am to falling over the edge.

"Lando!" I moan out loudly only making Lando smirk given me proving him right.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry out making Lando snake a hand between our bodies and start playing with my clit throwing me over the edge with a cry.

"Fuck, feels so good," Lando grunts letting his hips shutter a bit before burying deep and filling my cunt with his cum.

"Fuck," Lando groans while riding his own pleasure out before slowly slipping out of my pussy and climbing out of bed after placing a quick kiss on my cheek.

When Lando returns only a minute later he now has a pair of clean boxers on and a warm rag he starts softly wiping me down before discarding it somewhere on the other side of the room. He quickly picks me up and brings me into the bathroom before sitting me on the toilet and letting me do my business while he left me alone.

When he returned I was standing in front of the mirror naked brushing my teeth and finally allowing myself to get ready for the rest of the day.

"I love your family, but fucking hell, that was far too long," Lando says while wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my back into his chest.

"I agree," I say with a soft smile while I watched Lando through the mirror unwrap his arms and grab the clothes he had grabbed while he left me do my business.

Lando helps me dress in the outfit he picked out which consisted of a pair of HIS favorite jeans on me and a simple cropped baby tee.

We both notice the matching marks on both of our necks but neither of us choose to do something to cover them knowing sooner or later someone was bound to see them, might as well speed it up.

We barely make it into the hallway when my brother rounds the corner.

"Ew... and cover that before papa sees that and kills the boy," Carlos said while shaking his head but still placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. Something he's done since I was born.

"Love you too, loser." I laugh while shaking my head and walking into the common area where I find my mom chastising my dad for not wearing sunscreen. 

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[avalon-of-babylon]

Okay yeah it's like 90% the All Star we know and meme but it doesn't flow as well which I argue is a big part of what makes the song work.

In this essay I will once again be over annalize the lyrics of All Star by Smash Mouth instead of getting out of bed

Let's literally start at the beginning:

The draft version looks like it would have been the singer saying "I was a dumbass but you know over the years I came to realize fuck what others think there's nothing wrong with being yourself"

The version we got however is a perfect opening to a song which is ultimately about self-actualization and genuine self-expression. "She said I was dumb and up shit creek without a paddle but from where I'm standing she's the dumb one" which when paired with:

Creates not only good momentum but a sense of action. It's literally saying "Life doesn't stop and let you figure it out so why not live your life on your terms and just be yourself. You'll never know unless you try, and you'll never be amazing unless you be yourself"

My mama said to me "Son" she said to me

But the inclusion of this disrupts that momentum by rhyming "me" with "me" and turning the focus the song just turn towards you back on themselves making the next part into a personal story which not only doesn't add to the overall theme but has the calls to action come before the affirmations.

Hey now, you're an all star Get your game on, go play Hey now, you're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shooting stars break the mold

What we got however works better because it's telling the listener "you're already amazing, you just need to let yourself shine, you dont need to be like other people" instead of "my mom told me to let myself shine, I'm already amazing, I don't need to be like other people" it creates a sense of unity, one where we are all better for being ourselves and not a weird dude implying we should be like him.

It's a cold place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now, wait 'til you get older

Back to the flow problem again by having cold instead of cool it creates this odd momentary imbalance in the rhyming by having 3 words rhymed togetherin 2 lines (cold, colder, older) instead of 2 in 2 or 4 in 2 like we see throughout the finished version by just rhyming "colder" and "older"

The ice we skate is getting pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire, how about yours? That's the way I like it and I never get bored

Unless the line we see is adding the second half of this verse, then the draft is worse for not having it.

Not only is including the dichotomy of hot and cold good for a song with All Star's themes, but much like an onion, it has layers (obligatory Shrek reference). Without the first two lines, the verse is only reinforcing that their way of living is more exciting. However there's a number of ways to interpret the two added lines including "the veneer of normalcy is wearing away; other people are being themselves why not join" or if you want more literal "things are going to hell; why not enjoy the ride". Either way, when paired with the second half, hot and cold take on new meanings; passion and dispersion, individually and conformity, change and stagnation, reality and fantasy, autonomy and heteronomy.

I don't know why I wrote all this, I don't even like the song that much. Maybe I got possessed by the spirit of still living high school English teacher Mrs. Pack. She would do something like spend an entire class period discussing the themes of All Star.

[couch-house]

If you've been following me for a while you already know I'm going to tell you to vote for @themetalvirus's Egghog AU in @sonic-au-collision. You know I love drawing those funny little guys. But I think it might be a good idea to actually get into why I find them so compelling! I think any good AU is in conversation with canon,and egghogs is a certified Yapper.

Let's start with our hero, Amy!

Our canon Amy can be characterized by her deep compassion and optimism. As well as how Sonic has inspired her hero crush and motivated her to go out and put that compassion to work herself!* Egghog Amy has that same compassion, but what if she had no choice in being the hero? She had no one to look up to and inspire her, just the crushing weight of necessity. An Amy put in canon Sonic's position, who relies on unceasing and perhaps inappropriate optimism, but is still worn down by the weight of the world. I like this take on her, an exploration of where "toxic positivity" can get you.

*I think the classic IDW Amy characterization is a good example of this. As well as Fleetway Amys origin story heehee

Despite the stress of it all, she still has the optimism to see the best in people and believe they can change for the better. Like, for example, her crush: Egghog Sonic.

Just like canon Sonic, Eggy is a headstrong hedgehog defined by his own moral compass and his need to have a pretty good time. But while canon Sonic is defined by his love of freedom, independence, and by his "coolness," Egghog Sonic has been raised in Eggman's trap of control. He's just as headstrong, but in the opposite direction. His adoptive family is just as important to him as canon Sonic's friends, but in opposition to the good of the world. Where canon Sonic is personally reckless to protect others, Eggy is careless with the safety of others in service to his and his family's needs. Canon Sonic is capricious and relaxed, even in the face of danger, while Eggy is restrained, emotionally stunted, and stressed at all times.

Personally, I think that Egghog Sonic's fighting style being based in ballet--associated with control, restraint, and exclusivity by wealth--opposed to canon Sonic's fighting evoking breakdancing--a sport associated with creativity, play, and its origins as an urban art--does a great job on its own of juxtaposing the two Sonics.

But as I mentioned, even with his morals and freedom in opposition to canon, Egghog Sonic still has that essential connection to the people he cares about: his close-knit (read: highly controlled) family.

Egghog Sonic's younger brother Silver has all of canon Silver's accidental dickishness and ruthlessness, but without the humbling experience of surviving in a ruined future to keep him in check. Born and raised with a silver (ha) spoon in his mouth, Eggy Silver would be killed instantly by canon Silver's upbringing. All his worst qualities have been encouraged (as opposed to canon silver facing consequences for and learning from his flaws) and Eggy Silver is a huge fucking bitch. You know when Silver mugged Tails in Rivals? Okay now imagine if he was raised to do that as a child soldier. Now imagine he gets anything he wants whenever he asks. Thats Egghog Silver. When Silver defects from the Eggpire, we see that appreciation for the world and its history grow back where it belongs. It gives a better appreciation to what motivates canon Silver's view of the world, and recreates it in a new way.

Also the irony of Mr. I Must Fight For The Future's fucked up AU version of himself being part of the cause of the ruined future.... its delicious.

Finally, the oldest brother (by like a couple months...). We all know canon Shadow's had a rough time of it RE: mind control, manipulation, having a whole game where he is asked to be everyones gofer... This is Egghog Shadow's life for a full 15 years. Gerald doesn't finish cooking Egghog, and Eggman is the one to dump him out of the tube and raise him to be the perfect chaos-weilding soldier. He makes liberal use of his ability to physically manipulate Shadow's artificial mind to keep him in line as an endlessly obedient servant. Of course, any Shadow meaningfully based in canon won't stay that way. Just as his canon counterpart breaks free from the demands of those around him to forge his own path, so does Eggy Shadow. Even in the fucking miseries, even without a Maria, Shadow is still will make the choice to walk his own path.

Well, not just his own path. Because while Shadow (esp post-06 Shadow) can be uncompromisingly independent at times, he is still often defined by his friendships. Specifically, his relationship to Rouge is given focus in this AU, being his one reprieve from the empire and ultimately his way out. Canon Shadow had Rouge and Omega by his side during some of his darkest moments and arguably that made all the difference to his arc. Their presence (yes, Omega is here too) during Eggy Shadow's suffering is all the more essential and highlights their roles in canon.

But of course, with greater miseries comes greater struggle to heal. Canon Shadow's neat freak nature gets reinterpreted as a trauma response--maladaptive perfectionism and OCD. (tbc, in the same way fan works often recognize that canon Shadow likely lives with PTSD as a result of his experiences, Egghog Shadow's OCD is presented as an appropriate consequence of the stressful environment he's been raised in.) I like this as an exploration of how Shadow handles stress and trauma, how it might change in different circumstances.

All that to say, Egghog AU is just done in such a compelling way that really grabs me and facilitates Rambling about The Parallels and such. And that I think makes for a GREAT AU. The exploration of Sonic's strong personal morals and headstrong...ness, the benefits and flaws of Amy's intense optimism and compassion, Silver's ruthlessness and meaner side, and Shadow's tendency to introspection and overcorrection... Again I say, a good AU is one that is in conversation with canon, and Egghogs is constantly talking about the fascinating conflicts created by these characters. And thats why you should vote #Egghogs4Eggver

[httpscameron]

arranged marriage with simon.

the marriage was arranged by your parents, you didnt even know it was going to happen until a few weeks before the wedding. your first meeting with simon was in a coffee shop. your mum just told you to go there at ten am to meet him there.

he stood out like a sore thumb. his hair was messy, a dirty blond but short, he was sat in a booth with a cup of tea in a to-go cup. a look of exhaustion on his face and a five oclock shadow of a beard. he had eyebags that were deep but his eyes were a soft blue. simon wore dark clothes, probably to keep himself looked at atleast as possible.

you took a breath of nerves before getting a coffee yourself before going over. you stood opposite him. “simon riley?” you asked him just to confirm really that he was infact your husband to be.

he just nodded “yeah i am.” he didnt bother asking for your name because well youre obviously his future wife he knows your name. “i didnt ask for this you to be my mrs, so dont blame me.” he tells you a in mutter. his voice was husky, a smoker and clearly a heavy one at that.

after that visit you didnt meet again until your wedding, you couldnt really class it as a wedding. you both went to county hall and signed the documents and you had your stuff moved in that night.

it was awkward, very awkward. that night the two of you stayed in silence. you both agreed to share a bed because thats what married people did. he was in a pair of joggers and a dark tank top. you were in your usual pyjamas. both of you as far away as possible in the bed. the tv was on playing the eleven oclock news. once the show finished you both said your good nights and that was it.

life went on like that for a few months, simple hellos and simple mutters of how are you. it was terrible. he was a good man at that, he allowed you to quit your job and the two of you lived on his income, you had unlimited cash and could do as you please. however the one thing you werent allowed to do was cheat. it was a basic thing you both agreed to early on as it wasnt fair on the other no matter how much you both disliked the marriage.

simon went on deployment, it was long three months without speaking (like that really bothered you). he returned late into the night, you were asleep in your bed, sleeping as snug as you could.

he kicked his boots off at the bottom of the bed and his clothes stripping to his boxers, as he climbed into bed, his arms wrapped around you quickly. waking you up. “simon?” you said quickly.

“shh birdie i need this.” he huffed, his head going into the crook of your neck, sniffing your hair which still smelt like that shampoo you used. you just being there settled him instantly. he fell asleep instantly too. you fell asleep too, the warmth of his arms was somewhat suprisingly nice too.

after that night you both had a silent agreement to sleep cuddling, even if some nights your head was on his chest or you both spooned. it was nice actually, being close to your husband.

the two of you eventually agreed on going on date nights, simple stuff twice a month even if it was getting a take out and watching a film and well it was perfect. settling into routines with him that you never thought would happen. being able to fall in love with your husband.

he thought of you as his salvation, your relationship bloomed into one of love and adoration to each other, spending early mornings and late nights together. simon wouldnt be the man he was without you, even if it was a rocky start it still happened. you still both fell in love and had the happy ending neither of you expected.

masterlist

[alchemistc]

Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.

Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.

Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.

(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)

It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.

She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.

But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.

She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.

"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.

---

She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.

Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.

Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.

He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.

"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.

Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.

"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."

Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -

He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."

She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.

"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"

Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."

"And if I hadn't asked?"

She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.

Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.

He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.

The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.

"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.

"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"

"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."

That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.

"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."

His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."

Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"

Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.

"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.

___

She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.

Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.

"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."

Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.

"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")

Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -

Love is love, and all that.

"We, uh. We've been talking about it."

Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.

"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."

It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...

It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.

Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.

Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.

[dafna-mir]

Lol, what if Danny stays a cat because it's easier for him

….

Damian had been an older brother for six months now. That's quite a lot, although it doesn't compare to the fact that Danyal was one for almost 9 full years in Damian's life.

There's nothing wrong with that, because considering that his younger brother was in the form of a cat all the time, he'll be able to catch up in a moment.

…

Tim was Danny's secret favorite. Probably because he was the first to give a gift on arrival.

Damian can respect this, and reserves for Timothy the right to escape from the battlefield and not be disgraced.

As an older brother, he won't do any more favors.

…

Well, that mission was disgusting.

They took his weapon away from him and told him to "stay out"

Ugh, Father is getting more and more paranoid, not giving him a chance to prove himself.

Disgusting and unpleasant.

Danyal goes with him to the kitchen, all the while trying to get his point across.

Despite the fact that Damian had learned feline, cats spoke body language. And he deliberately ignores Danyal.

He bursts into the kitchen, where only Tim is sitting, having just returned from work.

Well, him don't care about him. At Tim, at his father, and at his mother, who decided that he was better off with his father.

— Damian! — he doesn't pay attention, pouring water, — Damian Al'Ghul, I said "no"!

He turns to look at his brother.

Danyal was leaning on the table with both hands, wearing a Nightwing hoodie… He was older than when Damian had seen him. Naturally, almost four years have passed… And..

— Did you steal my hoodie?

Danyal straightened up, putting his hands on his hips

— I bought it at the comicon, it's mine… Wait, do you have a Nightwing hoodie too?

— I wanted to go with Wonder Woman, but they sold out, — Damian shrugs, gulping down a glass of water, — And anyway... — he glances at Timothy, who froze with a half-eaten cookie, looking at him and then at his younger brother, — Timothy, I'm going to start a rebellion against my father's tyranny, and go to Sweden, I need an escort, do you have anyone in mind?

— I can be an escort! — Danyal hits the table again, — This is a family event, we don't need anyone else.

— Last time you became a cat

— Just think, — Danyal waves his hand, as if it were something unreal, — Oh, give Jason!

— Todd will find some kind of cult again, and disappear for a week.

— Cass?

— She's in Hong Kong.

— Tim?

— I don't want him to lose any organs again!

— How do you know that? — Timothy, who had been watching the exchange for a while, started up like a baby bird.

— Grandpa was bragging,— Danyal answers instead, sitting down on a chair, — Alfred?

Damian thinks about it. Alfred is not a good option. He's perfect… Did he agree to this for the sake of rebellion?

— Tim, do you want to go to Norway? Danyal asked, grabbing one of the cookies from Timothy's pack.

—Weren't you going to Sweden?

— Yes, it doesn't matter where, as long as it's there! — his beloved brother noticed, eating a cookie in one bite.

— Okay, I'll go, — Tim said, finishing his expired coffee, — I'm also "rebelling" against Bruce, — he made the picks, and when he got up, he looked directly at Damian, — I'll ask Alfred and Jason if they want to.

Damian opened the door to his room and walked in, the door slipping shut behind him as his brother jumped down from his shoulders to the floor and smoothly slipping into a stretch before moving over to and jumping onto their bed.

"We're going to be living with father." Damian stated, not that he needed to.

"Mrroow." Was his answer.

Damian frowned, tilting his head to the side a smidge as he walked over to the bed. "Are you not pleased?" He asked, watching as Daniel rolled over onto his back, paws hanging in the air as he huffed. "Father is a great man, it only makes sense that Mother would send us to him one day. I believed you had already expected this."

"Meow."

Damian's frown shifted back to his neutral scowl, before humming in acknowledgement.

"Ah, you are upset that you won't be claiming the inheritance?" Damian snorted, crossing his arms as he looked down at his younger brother. "You lost the battle, dear brother. Naturally, the title of Robin falls to me." He stated, uncrossing his arms and slipping off one of his gloves to flick Danny on the nose.

It was Daniel's turn to snort, before he snagged a finger between his teeth and bite down hard enough to draw blood.

Damian's eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit.

Daniel looked up at him innocently as he licked the wound he made with his tongue.

Damian sighed.

"You're lucky you are rather adorable, little brother." He said, moving his fingers to rub beneath Danny's chin. To which he let out a content purr as Damian's expression settled back to neutrality.

"How do you want me to refer to you?" He asked after a few moments, causing Danny to look up at him curiously from where he was laid out, his brother's hand over his stomach. Damian tilted his head slightly. "Brother-in-arms, or my brother?"

"Miao."

"Pick one, Daniel." Damian stated, pausing the belly rubs to look at his brother before resuming when a paw patted against his wrist lightly. "I am not allowing them to refer to you as a simple pet."

Danny gave him a flat look, before huffing.

Damian hummed.

"You're right," Damian nodded. "Being underestimated would be useful against Father's false children. It would do well to have more cards to pick off our competition." He said slowly, looking into Danny's eyes. "But are you certain? There is a chance they would believe us."

Danny reached up to swat Damian's cheek lightly with his paw, a look equally as flat as the first being sent his way.

"Hm." Alright, Damian would give him this one. "You're right, if even Grandfather and Mother doubts that you truly are my brother, then the chances of Father believing so are low."

Daniel let out a smug purr, happy that Damian saw his way.

Damian let out a sigh.

His brother truly was lucky that he was the most adorable creature Damian had ever laid his eyes upon. Of course, his little brother was undeniably the cutest before his death, yet coming back as a cat (that as far as Mother, Grandfather, and the rest of the League were concerned. Was merely a pit creature that had taken a liking to their heir)?

Well.

Damian wasn't one to complain about his brother's return.

No matter what form he takes.

[rafesbangs]

soft!kook!reader and rafe do it on the beach 🤭

oh em gee this is perfect ty nonnie !

req! 𝜗𝜚 fwb!rafe asks soft!kook!reader out on the beach

c!w; mdni !! dom!rafe, soft!kook!reader, public (?) sex, fingering, hand job, oral (f. + m. receiving), 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, bitta fluff too for once!

notes; two soft!kook!reader fic drops wowow. i really need to finish the 5 other fics in my drafts... i hate writers block ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

the truck rattled down the sandy path, headlights cutting through the thickening dusk. rafe sat behind the wheel, one hand loosely draped over it, the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh. you leaned back in the passenger seat, the ocean breeze tangling your hair as you glanced over at him. his jaw was set, his eyes fixed ahead, like he was on a mission.

“you’re being cryptic,” you teased, a half-smile tugging at your lips. “should i be worried?”

he shot you a quick glance, his mouth twitching into something almost resembling a smirk. “you’ll see,” he said, voice low, calm.

the beach came into view, the shoreline glowing faintly under the moonlight. you left your shoes and hopped out as soon as the car stopped, your feet sinking into the cool sand. but then you noticed it, a small glow farther down the shore, fairy lights twinkling softly. your brows knitted in confusion, but rafe was already pulling you by the hand, leading you toward it.

when you got closer, you stopped dead in your tracks. a kiddie pool sat nestled in the sand, lined with blankets and pillows, the string lights hanging around like something out of a dream. you blinked, taking it all in.

“rafe,” you started, your voice trailing off.

he rubbed the back of his neck, a rare moment of unease flickering across his face. “look, i’m not good at this,” he admitted, his words tumbling out quickly. “but i couldn’t... not anymore. i don’t want anyone else. i want you. just you. so... be mine?”

the air seemed to hang still between you, your heart hammering in your chest.

“yeah,” you said finally, a soft laugh escaping as you shook your head. “yeah, of course.”

and just like that, he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours, both of you sinking into the mountain of blankets. his hands slid up the sides of your body, you climbed into his lap, straddling him as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"you're so pretty" he breathed in between kisses as they grew more desperate, your bodies hotter and breathing more ragged. a hand slipped underneath your top, creeping up to one of your tits and he affectionately squeezed it. you could feel the mischievous grin on his lips through the kiss.

you groaned when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, "i want you rafe." he tore his lips away from yours and searched your eyes for a moment. "on the beach? you sure?" he rasped, his breathing still heavy and increasing at the thought of you screaming his name for the whole ocean to hear.

you grinned and began lining his neck with kisses, slowly rutting against him while one hand slid up his shirt, feeling his toned body. he groaned and planted his hands on your waist, grinding you against him harder.

"i'll never get tired of your dick rafe..." you whispered into the shell of his ear, if he wasn't so hard already he definitely would be now. his eyes rolled back as his mind split open from pleasure.

you unbuckled his belt, pulling down his pants so only his boxers were between you and his poor throbbing cock. you rolled your palm over his tip through the fabric, he sucked air in through his teeth and rolled his head back.

you chewed your bottom lip as you slowly pulled his cock out of his pants, his tip angry and leaking pre-cum, already swollen and begging. you grinned at him as he stared intensely at you, nothing but adoration in his eyes. your hand moved carefully up and down his shaft as another played with his tip while he squirmed under your touch, you'd never been so slow and painful about it before.

looking him in the eyes you moved backwards and lowered your lips down, pressing a sloppy kiss to his tip while still looking up at him through your lashes. he nearly came right then and there, the careful attention you were giving your new boyfriend drove him insane, he was whimpering under your touch as you continued to jerk him off while playing close attention to his tip with your mouth.

you only stopped when he grabbed your chin, stopping you from licking up his cock, "c'mere, your turn." he demanded, and you obliged with a smile. he switched positions with you, sitting you up against the edge of the kiddie pool as he slipped your shorts and panties down with a smirk.

his big hands ran over your thighs before he laced two fingers into your folds, playing around with your wetness and teasing your clit. you twitched at the feeling of his long fingers, begging him to slid them in with the way you were looking at him.

"so so wet baby... this all from getting me off?" he cooed, his fingers now teasing around your hole as his other hand held your leg to the side.

your gaze was pleading, "stop teasing me rafe... 'ts not fair." he only chuckled lightly before kissing your inner thigh and sliding two fingers into your weeping cunt slowly.

you whined when he began sliding his tongue between your folds, lapping at your clit as his fingers continued to slid in and out of you. rafe moaned into your pussy, the vibrations causing you to thread your fingers through his hair, cinching your eyebrows together from the pleasure.

you chewed your lip, trying not to moan too loud so out in the open, still letting small noises slip as rafe ate you like a man starved. "rafe..." you choked, your hand grabbing his wrist.

he lifted his head, the lower half of his face coated in your slick as he smiles up at you, still teasing your folds with his fingers, "yes baby?"

"please... i wanna cum on your cock" you beg, chest rising and falling as you breath heavily. rafe grinned, his smile wide as he crawled over you, sucking your juices off his fingers before pressing his lips to yours, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

"fuck you're so gorgeous" he rasped, tearing away from your lips before grinning down at you as he jerked himself off a little before lowering down to your sopping pussy.

rafe tapped the tip against your folds before then swiping through them, teasing you as you lay there in anticipation before sinking into your pussy with a low groan. you whine when he slowly pushes his cock to the hilt, your cunt tightening around him deliciously.

your hand grips his arm, "'ts so... nhghh, you're so big-" you whimper. no matter how many times the two of you have had sex before, you knew you would never get used to the sheer size of rafe.

he thrusts his hips back then forward again, you feel every inch as your pussy flutters around his cock. "don' worry baby, you can take it" he replies, throwing one of your legs onto his shoulder.

rafe groans as his speed increases, your muscles clenching around him, coaxing him into filling you up. his hand connects with your tit, kneading the fat and pinching your nipple, making you moan loudly. rafe grinned, thankful he chose a secluded beach and the fact that the sun had just set behind them.

he bit his lower lip at the plap-plap-plap coming from his pelvis hitting the wetness that had gathered between you. a thick ring around rafe's cock already along with a stringy mess every time your bodies met.

rafe's eyes raked your body, taking in every outline he could in the dim light provided by the fairy lights. he leans and kisses you as his hands explore your body, he just can't get enough of you.

his hips stutter as his thrusts slow down a little, the tightness of your pussy becoming too much for him to hold off anymore. "ah fuck, g'na cum baby.." rafe groans, his grip on your hips bruising.

"want you to fill me up rafey, cum inside me" you demand, eyes locked on his until they meet yours, wide and wild. as soon as the words left your lips rafe thought he was in heaven, he'd finished on you plenty of times but only inside of you with a condom. it was always a rule of yours that only a boyfriend would have the privilege.

he strained as his thrusts sped up, your cunt tightening unbearably around him, milking every last drop as his cum finally spurts inside of you. your hips twitch as your orgasm takes over and rafe continues fucking his release into you for a few more thrusts before collapsing beside you.

he pulls your face in, kissing you deeply, "fuck you're amazing. i love you baby." he sighs.