#need to make a masterlist...

[mechncheese]

[Science AU] treating myself to drawing a bit of Thundercracker, he’s like a sopping wet animal in a cardboard box left out in the rain

Science AU Thundercracker Context

What is going on with Thundercracker ?

Other stuff about Thundercracker in this AU

TC’s relationship with the Decepticons

[limerlove]

tattoo artist!vi who takes notice of just how beautiful you are the moment you step foot in her shop. it’d be the most difficult task in the world to not notice just how insanely breathtaking you are. it’s clear by the smirk on your glossy lips. you know just how good you look. caitlyn, being the woman she is, tries to jump in first. you’re just her type. violet would know, cait’s dated the anti-thesis of her since the moment you broke up. caitlyn kiramman loves pretty girls. anything she can do to be underneath them, she’ll find a way. you fit her bill. violet tried not to take offense of the ways your eyes light up taking to her ex-girlfriend. maybe you’re just nice. that’s it, right? two minutes, someone who is almost as gorgeous as you walks in and then violet forgets about you as her next client walks in. she tries to at least.

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t stop thinking about you. it’s new york. there’s plenty of pretty girls she can drown herself in. well, if she could figure out how to ask someone out without her crippling anxiety suffocating her. she knows she’s somewhat attractive but her lack of knowing how to efficiently communicate it without sound like the weirdest fuck who has ever lived gets lost in translation. she doesn’t like how sure cait is of herself when she talks about you though. violet doesn’t even know you but seeing the glint in those aquatic-blue eyes make her want to punch something. it’s hard to even tell if it due to her budding crush or that it’s her ex. probably both but she ignores it.

tattoo artist!vi who likes to frequent bars on her days off. it’s when she doesn’t feel alone. it’s fun to bug her sister, powder. she’s always been more of a free spirit out of the two of them. an artist, a wanderer, someone who choses to bartend a couple nights out of the week just because she liked meeting new people, learning their story, what makes them tick. are they a mean drunk, happy, or will they burst into tears when you ask them how they’re doing? vi isn’t either really. she’s quiet, calm even, but tonight part of her wants to cry. she feels lonely, lost, and even a little bit upset caitlyn is your first choice. she only knows your name because of the clientele list and that just feels pathetic. violet’s never been the smoothest of talkers, she knows that more than she feels the blood coursing through her veins. she isn’t the girl and she’s perfectly fine with it. perfectly. fine.

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t even enjoy work anymore. three months in and you’ve been cait’s girlfriend and the feeling only gets worse. it’s cliché. a little fucked, but being in love with her ex’s girlfriend? it doesn’t get any lower than this. she let it slip days ago, only to powder, thank fucking god. if violet knew one thing, she didn’t wanna deal with caitlyn’s wrath. according to maddie, she’d been a dog with a bone when it came to you. so protective it nearly turned into possession. she wanted everyone to know that you were hers and not anyone else’s. it wasn’t new to violet, cait didn’t like being runner up to anyone. it’s why their relationship ended in the first place, especially when the girlfriend feels inferior to the sister. when powder comes around to the shop, cait can’t help but wear her disgust all over her face like a poorly concealed mask. vi thinks it’s silly. the both of them are nearly the same it’s almost sickening. if only the other took the time to know the object of their disdain, they would see two peas sitting in a pod.

tattoo artist!vi who hates a messy shop. when personal items are left behind or someone’s station isn’t properly sanitized and clean. it’s why she’s here, alone on the sunday, the only day the shop is closed. it’s been too long since she did a deep clean, just a week or too, but that’s long enough for her. she’s always been proud of what she’s been able to accomplish her. even if she didn’t have much, a girlfriend to love on, or if her father was on the other side of the country, she had this. violet ink. it was her name out on the sign over seeing the street, the luminous violet led lights kissing the downtown street. she made it this far and she couldn’t let anyone run her off from something she fought so hard to build from the ground up. it’s why she was surprised when she saw you. your face free of makeup, your hair in it’s natural state, and you appeared more laid back than you ever were — in her shop. it feels like a fever dream she never wishes to wake up from. cait must have given you a spare key to the shop which she would have a discussion with her about that later because what the fuck? but it’s hard for her to stay mad when you’re standing there looking like a million bucks in the most casual pair of sweats she’s ever seen. it feels different to who you usually are. shredded of the image you maintain, stripped back, there’s just a softer version of yourself and vi can’t help but contemplate if this is the side you’re so reluctant to show.

tattoo artist!vi who stutter how some stupid joke, trying to break the ice and it should have made things more awkward than they already were but your laugh full of symphonies just makes violet smile. in her best efforts, she craves to conceal it from you but it’s impossible when you’re looking at her. she can’t help but smile — so she does. desperately, violet tries not to act nervous when you’re looking at her designs on the wall, not saying a word, just inspecting. there’s a chill in her bones she feels, a need for her work to be loved because if it isn’t? it eats her up from the inside out. maybe it’s embarrassing but she needs her work to be loved. what’s the point if it isn’t? it’s always been an extension of her soul, her life, and if someone doesn’t like it? all they say is they don’t like her. it may be the silliest thing in the world, but she needs to be adored. from a complete stranger, from the people who she’s permanently tattooing, and especially from the beautiful women violet can’t stop daydreaming about.

tattoo artist!vi who blushes when you tell her how much you love her designs. there’s a soft touch to her shoulder, your thumb lightly tracing circles in her sturdy bicep. it feel innocent enough but vi doesn’t give herself much time to think about it. painfully, she takes note in how your eyes soar when they make contact with her designs. even if it makes her cocky, violet knows she’s good at her job. clients flying in from all over the country, just to get tattooed by her. with your undeniable charm, you’ve convinced her to do a custom design for you but you wanna discuss it on sunday’s, alone. if anything, she should know this isn’t a good idea. you’re charming, gorgeous and the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. she should be afraid of caitlyn’s wrath, of what would happen if she found out, but it’s innocent…right? she’s a professional. no matter how much she’s attracted to a client, it’s never been an issues and she certainly won’t make it one now. vi nods and the second she does, you’re leaping in her arms, into her space. you smell of lavender and lilies, like spring in the beginning of march. a sun-kissed marvel aching for the shine of summer, for one breath of fresh air. it’s really all she wants, a moment to be in the sunshine with you, if only for a moment at least she could tell the moon about it. her best kept secret and she would cherish every bit of it. 

tattoo artist!vi who tries to keep her head down low as the weeks carry on. even when you try to make more of an effort to speak with her, the last thing she needs is caitlyn to take one final look at her and realize just how much she likes the attention. maddie already made one comment, even if it was light-hearted — it’s enough to keep her on edge. with the design being complete, all she needs is to tattoo but violet’s been avoiding you and what’s worse? you knew it too. in her true avoidant style, violet failed to go to the shop the last two weeks on sunday. the tidiness and damn right organization of her shop was suffering but she still had plans of avoiding it. rather avoiding you, but in her forest fire of a mind, it comes all the same. all of this is so trivial, so stupid, so tragic. it’s kiramman’s day off and violet and sevika are the only artists on hand today which means she’s overworked. the both of them are tired and violet just completed her last session of the day. she sneaks to the back enjoying the cigarette she’d been itching to have. violet’s on her second one when you corner her into the brick wall she’s leaning on. you’re too close. dangerously close, almost as if the fire you’ve created in violet’s lungs might cause her to burn from the inside out. it’s chilling how silent you are until you aren’t. you’re loud about the way you caress her exposed biceps, tracing the lines of her intricate tattoo as it crawls up shoulders and so do your hands. with a sharp graze, you scrap your nails across her skin as if you want to leave a reminder that she was in fact here. should she even even be here? letting you touch her in the way you are? but it’s not like vi has much of a choice when you push the hem of her tank top up to her ribcage, showcasing the flexing abs on her abdomen. it may be faint but there’s a happy trail, one violet wants to see your lips on but she’s scared to say anything, to move, to breathe. “caitlyn said you were ripped underneath. i wanted to see for myself.” then your touch is gone and you are with it. 

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t show up on sunday…for the first couple of hours. violet thinks of that night, the way you touched her, like you knew exactly what to do before she even could think of what she wanted next. how on earth did you manage to paralyze her with a mere flick of your wrist? when your nails clawed at her toned abdomen, violet felt the stickiness in her boxers and you’d done all of nothing. she had to put an end to things, the private session, violet couldn’t do it. she didn’t want to be caught in some weird and perversed love triangle with her ex. in the back of her throat, violet feels the lump she constantly has to swallow. the only reasonable explanation is that this, you, is all some weird fantasy of caitlyn to get the last laugh. to fully degrade her in a way she couldn’t, not when you’re the person who gets broken up with. it’s not a secret caitlyn’s ego had taken a hit. to anyone, not being the first choice stings but to cait? it might as well be a death sentence and certainly it wouldn’t stand. 

tattoo artist!vi who isn’t one for confrontation but in the need to savor some of her salvation in her dignity, she walks in the shop. you’re still waiting for her. two hours later, you’d hoped she’d show. ”violet, you came.” it’s endearing but violet also sees herself the night before tangled in her black sheets, vibrator on its highest setting as she applies pressure to her clit, fingers nestled so deep inside her cunt as she hears your voice, thinks about your irresistible lips. violet wonders what you sound like when you come and suddenly the thought sends her hurling towards the edge. the smile you offer is almost like you can see right through her, like you know vi came to the idea of you just the night before. 

with a slender smile, you make your way over to her and suddenly the internal dialogue she created to put an end to this arrangement died on your tongue when she shrugs vi’s leather jacket off. she’s only wearing her wrap to cover her chest, not intending on staying for a long time. definitely not enough to finish the beautiful design she created for you. she’d get cait to do it. their styles were similar to it. your girlfriend has to do this. but you’re touching her bare skin. vi is losing focus as she feels the control slip into your greedy fingers. 

“i know what you’re gonna say.” 

“and what’s that?” 

“you wanna stop this, meeting me here, you feel like you’re betraying someone you love and you have too much integrity to keep seeing someone you so obviously want to fuck.” 

“i can’t—” but the words die on violet’s tongue. 

“sense won’t get to you, that’s something caitlyn didn’t understand. you think with your heart of gold. when it drips for someone, you’d let it bleed out if it meant you were saving someone.” you take a pause, slipping off your shirt as your pierced nipples are exposed. violet nearly begins to drool, her eyes unable to look away from your perfect nipples, the swell of your breast how perfectly they fall on your chest, she’s nearly salivating to be offered a taste. “my girlfriend doesn’t understand you’ve found someone else to be loyal to.” 

“this is not, um, i didn’t—” 

sweetly, you kiss her cheek. “it’s such a bitch isn’t it? your heart wants whatever the fuck it yearns for, no damn mercy on who it hurts.”  

violet can only think of how much she wants to be suffocated by your tits, forever trapped in this venus fly trap you’ve caused her to succumb to. with her best foot forward, she wants to tell you to go to hell, that you’re wrong about her — she would never do something like this — until she does. it’s all tongue and teeth, vitriol and lust spills into her mouth as violet pushes you on the bench, ripping your skirt to shreds with her bare hands. only to find nothing underneath. 

bent over the table, ass up in the air, violet wastes not a single moment and stuffs her face in your fat ass. with a gratifying need, she splits your folds on her tongue as she slaps your ass making you whimper and cry out for her name. it’s beautiful, violet thinks. someone needing her to bring them to the edge, and god, you aren’t shy about it either. never has she heard anyone be so loud and proud about sex. so goddamn confident in each moan you let fall from pornogrpahic lips, it’s damn invigorating. the first one comes easily, you spill over vi’s tongue as she moans back into your weeping pussy, liquid gushing over her face violet never wants it to end. the second time violet fucks you with her fingers, stuffing and fucking until there isn’t any part of you that isn’t undeniably shaking. the third time, you’re on top of her, the two of you finding comfortablity on the cot in the break room as violet lets you fuck her. 

exactly what she expects it to be; hot, rough, fast. slippery pussy rubbing against hers until you collapse on top of her, breast pressed against her binded ones. you have a feeling they are there for a reason and you don’t push, for once in your life, you let yourself succumb to sleep as you fall asleep in her arms. 

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t see you for three months after she had the best sex of her life. even if it does sting, vi knows it’s for the best. six months in and you’re still with caitlyn despite your best efforts. surprising everyone, but violet for different reasons, you admit your slip up to cait but she forgives you. maddie and sevika make a game of it, trying to guess who make you cheat and when violet’s name comes up jokingly, caitlyn’s words leave an unsettling pit in her stomach. 

c’mon, what is violet going to do? look at her. she’s as loyal as a trained dog and i have you trained. don’t i, cupcake? 

tattoo artist!vi who focuses on her work, like a trained dog, she falls back into her routine. sunday’s aren’t as pleasurable as they were with you, or one sunday she should say, but she dismisses the thought altogether. pushing it to the deepest parts of her mind becomes the only viable option. she uses other forms of entertainment to get her mind off of you. powder thinks it’s a good idea to be here but she refuses to step foot in here with her. this is where my path ends, sis. i’ll be just up the hill when you’re ready. a not so subtle wink has her cringing and flipping her off blue-haired braided sister off in the process. this is such a good stupid idea but violet doesn’t manage to convince herself out of this situation she’s conducted for herself. anyways, it’s one night? no one ever has to know. from the moment she steps into the strip club, she knows she never should have been here. she keeps to the bar as she changes songs from the jukebox a few times. this has never been her scene nor will it ever. as she finishes off her class of neat whiskey, the familiar voice whispers into her ear, never thought you’d be here but i guess we’re both full of surprises.

[sunsburns]

tweets with pjo characters (iii.)

content summary: reader is literally insane, luke x reader, clarisse x reader, percabeth crumbs, luke being an idiot and chris being his number one supporter, thalia being an icon, sex jokes, PERSASSY, swearing, teenagers being teenagers lol

note: i think i have an obsession with making these actually lmao i cannot stop

series masterlist

[anonyymouslyyours]

coriolanus snow +18 (firstly why is 'anus' so overly pronounced)

"corio.." a whimper escapes your lips, swiftly covered by snows hand.

"keep quiet." he says firmly.

"fuck i-"

your struggling, squirming under his grasp. pressed up against the wall, his hand under your red academy skirt, and the other clasped over your mouth. his breath is hot next to your ear, whispering to you.

"looked so good, couldn't resist you baby."

his fingers rub along your clit, collecting your slick, in a way that makes you throw your head against the wall, and your eyes roll. everything about him is perfected, even the way he fucks you.

his lips are on your neck, sucking harshly, leaving marks similar to the shade of your uniform. the way he touches you is possessive, because coriolanus likes to think of you as one of his possessions, something he can control.

caging you against the wall, you can feel the pressure of his cock against your thigh, begging to be touched. you'll return the favour later.

you're a few heated breaths away from cumming, thighs shaking and weak.

"snow-" you muffle through his hand.

his hand comes down under your ass, holding you up against the wall and him. your unravelling right under him.

"can feel you getting close, sweetheart."

his removes his hand, kissing you desperately as you reach your high. his hand reaches his mouth, sucking his finger, as you stare wide-eyed.

[crsssie]

mornings - professor!simon riley x professor!reader

Simon drives with you to work in the morning.

He refuses to let the two of you take separate cars, preferring the silence with you in the car than without. It's a morning routine, you find. He wakes you after his morning run, freshly showered and clean as he gives you a morning kiss, letting you sit up and process the morning fog in your brain before you start on anything.

Your morning drink is on the counter and he starts on breakfast, letting you process and click through your laptop to check for your day's schedule.

He finds normalcy in a schedule, you find boredom, so you both operate differently once you get to work.

But — in the morning, always a morning kiss and a goodbye one.

Simon starts his morning class from the office, and you wander around campus to walk off the lethargy in the park.

When he finishes the morning class, he joins you on the walk, chatting with you as you blink at the staring students, Simon lowering his voice to your ear as he tells you which class of his they're in.

Very seldom do your students stare, you think, so you wave at his students, lips curled upwards sweetly as Simon stares.

"Cute." You laugh. "Morning class?"

"Psychology of war." He hums. "Cute?"

"Ah." You reach up to pinch his cheeks with one hand, squeezing as his stubble brushes your palm. "You're still cuter, Si."

He hums, moving your hand to press a kiss to your palm. "Never as cute as you."

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

dk why but im thinkin about shoto w a sweet tooth who follows you and hangs around the kitchen waiting for the cookies you made to finish baking while staring at the oven like a kid, soooooo.. (shoto might be a bit ooc, slight super small pinch of angst but super fluffy as usual ! gn reader, mentions of food, lemme know if i missed sum else ! <3)

"sho.." shoto hums in response, eyes fixed on the oven.

"the cookies aren't gonna bake faster if you stare at 'em."

you hold back a giggle when he slowly turns to look up at you from where he's crouched down on the floor. his eyes that were practically pasted to the oven widening the slightest bit like he'd been caught doing something bad. he blinks at you, then swiftly looks away.

"i'm just checking to make sure they don't burn." he explains. you don't know if you've seen him blink more than four times the entire time you've been staring at him staring at the chocolate chip marshmallow cookies you made together. (together meaning with him watching you most of the time and occasionally mixing. as much as you love your boyfriend, he should absolutely not be trusted around food.)

"that's what we have the timer for." you quip, leaning against the kitchen cupboard and crossing your arm with a smirk.

he looks up at you, then fixes the kitchen timer sitting on the stove with a little frown that you recognize as a pout, you huff out a light laugh at his cute expression. from his miniscule facial expressions you can see he's a little embarrassed at the fact you'd outsmarted him. he turns to look at the cookies again.

"i can see when they're done baking better from here. faster than the timer can."

"oh yeah ?"

he nods "very clearly."

you snort. after looking at him for a while longer you sigh to get his attention. it works immediately and he looks up at you, eyes occasionaly trailing back to the oven towards the cookies as he waits to hear what you want.

you wordlessly spread your arms out, batting your eyelashes at him. he blinks, then a small smile grows on his handsome face in realization. he slowly walks over to you before pulling you into a comfortable hug, he huffs out a chuckle when you squeeze his waist.

shoto buries his head into your shoulder, right into the crook of your neck, and breathes you in. he’s had a habit of doing that often—if not every time you hug—and you don’t really know why he does, but you definitely don’t mind.

"you could've just told me that you wanted to try the cookies first." you tease, giggling when he huffs against your shoulder. he turns his head to speak against your neck.

"that wasn't my intention." he mumbles weakly, nosing at your neck when you scoff out a laugh.

"right. that's why you were practically glued to the oven mere seconds ago."

"i did no such thing."

"don't lie !" you reprimand, tugging at his hair lightly in joking punishment "you're not getting any cookies if you do." you hear him huff and feel a slight smirk growing against you.

"i..may have been surveying them rather closely—"

"very closely."

"—but it was simply to check." he finishes, ignoring your comment. shoto noses at your shoulder and sighs "i felt like even though you wanted to make the cookies together, i was barely able to help you with anything.." he trails off. your eyebrows furrow, and you try pull shoto out of the nest he's made for himself inside your shoulder, but shoto could be extremely stubborn when he wanted to be. his arms tighten around your waist and he his hair tickles against your cheek when he tries to shove his head inside your shoulder somehow.

you sigh, giving up your attempts to get him to look at you and simply settle on running your fingers through his hair, soothing him as he sighs contently. "sho, you helped me out lots. you always took over for me when i didn't feel like mixing anymore and helped me out with those big strong arms of yours." you feel him smile against you and your smile grows mirroring his.

" but i really wanted to help you out more, i know i'm not really good at this.." he mutters sadly, a frown grows on his face and you feel the corners of your mouth turn down as well.

"but you're real good at a lot of other things ! i'm not great at everything either." you reason, absentmindeldly twirling a strand of his hair around your finger "but i could teach you some tips and tricks, if you want."

he looks up at you at that, the smile growing on his face makes your heart race. "really ? i might be a little hard to manage." he jests, running his hands up and down your sides. his eyes brighten the more he looks at you and you're 100% sure you mirror his expression when you throw him a smug smirk.

"don't you underestimate me, mr todoroki ! you're nothing compared to what i've dealt with before."

"oh ?" he hums, lifting a brow. you nod and his smiles grows " and what, if i may ask, have you dealt with before ?" he challenges.

"that is classified information that i cannot disclose. you're just gonna have to trust me." you shoot back and press your finger to his lips, snickering when his eyes widen a fraction before he looks down at you playfully. he takes hold of your hand and presses a kiss to each of your fingertips, making fireworks go off inside your stomach.

"well then," he presses a final lingering kiss to the back of your hand with a run of his thumb against your skin. his eyes glow with mischief when he looks at you.

"i'm in your care."

[celestial-grls]

You're so money, baby

-Summary: You and Kate are getting ready for a night out. She's as much of a distraction as she is helpful. Fluffy with no use of Y/N -a/n: hope you all like this and feel free to send requests! that's all ok mwah!

"Kaaaaate? Have you seen my eyeliner? I can't find it," You huff while trailing around Kate and your bedroom in your outfit for the night and rollers still in your hair. 

Kate is always ready ages before you. She has the patience of a saint and prefers to keep you company while you get ready, entertained by you like you're a one-woman TV show. 

She's in the closet trying to pick a jacket and answers you through the slightly ajar door, "Dunno, baby. Did you try the little makeup bag?" She's talking about the one you keep for when you guys have to quickly pack to make a red-eye flight to wherever the next basketball game may be. 

You crouched down to open the cabinet under the sink where you keep your travel things, and sure enough, your eyeliner was sitting in the very bottom, buried underneath everything else. 

Kate took a jacket off the hanger and laid it on the bed before crossing to meet you in the bathroom. She leans against the doorway while you lean over the bathroom sink to line your eyes. You're concentrating, but flash her a grin and turn to face her when you're done. 

She's wearing this one sweater you love on her because it's soft, and some of her white t-shirt sticks out from the collar. Your focus starts at her collar but quickly moves to her face as you place your hands behind her neck. "You look good, Martin." 

She gets a little timid under your gaze. The way you look up at her and tilt your head completely knocks her out. Up close like this, you can still see some of the freckles across her nose from the time you spent outside together this past summer. She shakes off shyness before pretending to be all business and tells you, "No fair. I was supposed to tell you that." 

With complete mischief in your eyes, you shift closer to her while shrugging, "There's still time, baby. Night's still young."

She laughs before sitting at the bathtub's edge to finish watching you get ready. She wouldn't tell you, but it's her favorite part of the night. She can't take her eyes off you — bouncing around, the sounds of your makeup clacking together. At the same time, you dig for specific products, an ever-changing playlist in the background. She doesn't know the first thing about makeup and believes it's more magical this way, watching you go to work. 

Your favorite part is sneaking glances at her out of the corner of your eye. There's always a point halfway through where Kate lets you run some brow gel through her eyebrows. Kate closed her eyes, even though she didn't have to, so she could smell the fragrance you had sprayed on earlier. When she opens her eyes, you're balancing one hand on her knee and shaping the ends of her eyebrows into place before you stand up and admire your work. 

"You make my job so easy by having a face like yours," clearly satisfied with your minimal effort on Kate's face and doing whatever it takes to make her blush. 

Kate's hands settle on your hips, thumbs teasing at the top of your miniskirt. She looks at you with your rollers still in and feels like forgoing the going out part so she can have you alone for as long as possible. Seeing your breath hitch and falter a bit at the sight of her big hands wrapped around the curve of your hips gives her the confidence to ask, "How do you manage to do it?" 

You amuse her, touching your thumb to her chin, "Do what, Martin?" 

Kate takes a second to move her hands down, gently cradling the exposed back of your thighs where the fabric of the miniskirt ends. She presses one chaste kiss to your exposed midriff and inhales the light sweetness from your lotion before saying, "Smell so good all the time," 

It's your turn to get all shy and flustered. You play it off by pressing your thumb to Kate's bottom lip, "Don't distract me, baby. There's still lots to do, and I haven't decided on which shoes to wear," 

Kate's always happy to help and asks, "D'you need me to take your rollers out?" 

It's still early days for you and Kate, but considering the number of events and outings she has to attend, you two have settled into some sort of a routine when it comes to getting ready. You consider it while you look for your lipliner: "Okay, yes." 

She starts with the rollers at the nape of your neck, twisting the ends like she's seen you do a million times. "I think you should wear your knee boots, s'cold outside," 

You see her eyes in the mirror and smile because she always knows these things. You apply some gloss to top off your lips as she finishes taking your rollers out. You clear some space on the bathroom counter to look for your earrings, and Kate is still staring. 

"What are you looking at, Martin?" You ask her as she leans her hip against the counter next to you. She's focused on your lips and how the center looks like that familiar sparkly pink you always use. 

"Mhm," she tilts her head, and her eyes start heavily drooping out of longing, "you, of course." 

You place your hands on her cheeks, slotting yourself against her and the bathroom counter, and watch her get a little more flushed the longer you hold eye contact with her. "And what are you looking at me for?"

"You're the prettiest thing, that's why," and when she says that, you feel defenseless. "Think I need to pinch myself, just looking at you," she grins, keeping one hand on your hip and the other steadied on the counter. 

You start to run your fingers along her hair, smoothing the blondest strands away from the perimeter of her face, and can't help but nervously laugh a little at the way she's making you feel like you're the only girl she's ever looked at like this. "Hey, you're nice," you stretch up a little to land a kiss on her, "and you're so money, baby. Look like a million bucks tonight." 

When you guys part, she has a little bit of your gloss. She taps your hip, "We're probably so late right now," you both laugh before grabbing your things and rushing out the door. 

[m1d-45]

bloodletting

summary: a budding god needs a place to test their new powers, and childe was always a little too eager to lose a fight... a match made in heaven!

word count: 1.7k

-> warnings : minor AQ spoilers ? just like, general gi plot.. fairly graphic depiction of blood + other injuries (might be classed as body horror???). generally obsessive tendencies (childe <--> you). i cannot stress this enough, reader is 110% a sadist.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

power was not something that came easy. it was fought over, stolen, defended with teeth and claw, tides of blood shed just so one could have power over another. social, physical, financial; no matter the leverage it provided, power was hard won. to give someone power was to admit defeat, a certain death that tartaglia had learned and taught more than his fair share of times. nobody undeserving of power ever held onto it for long; it was an acknowledgement that you were better, that you deserved it, that you’d won. power was a fickle resource that childe would kill to keep, only ever laying down his blade for a precious few.

the tsaritsa, of course. his fellow harbingers, skilled both on and off-field, who themselves could rival the archons. his family, for whom he’d happily give the world.

and naturally, who would be more worthy to hold power than you?

you, not just a god but the, the highest authority across all of teyvat. you bore a hundred names and a thousand monikers, your worship the one thing the world could agree on. granted, nobody could quite agree on how, but that was fine. childe did not need external powers to tell him what to do. he knew, in his deepest heart, that he had gotten it right.

he knew—and, on occasion, flaunted—that he was your favorite. of all the vessels you had chosen, you returned to him time and time again, wishing on his stars until his vision gleamed. his bow shone with power, even his weakest weapon more than enough to push his strength to new heights. part of him wondered what he could do if you’d granted him swords, or a claymore… but that was speculation for another time. didn’t it say something that you had still chosen him at his weakest?

the thought always made him smile. thick in the heat of puppeteered battle, before the sun to after dark, your presence was a constant in his life. at every altar, with every offering, when his hands stung from the rash of leather and his blade was covered in rust, your name a prayer behind blood-soaked teeth. he could not remember a time when his pocket was not weighted with a charm.

his devotion was no secret. he wore your bow with pride, entirely phasing out his other weapons. it didn’t matter that he was technically more controlled with them, for you had chosen this path for him. your word was his guide, a polar star through bitter nights.

he did not doubt when your presence ebbed or flowed. who was he to dictate when or where you spent your attention? no, his faith did not waver. it had no reason to. he waited patiently, going about his regular duties, lingering in snezhnaya for no other reason that he just felt like he had to.

who was he to question to buzzing in the back of his head? who was he to decline when he felt an instinct to leave, to go for a trip far past the city gates? who was he to think himself better than the guiding light that had never led him astray?

for you, he was whatever you needed. and so he went, armed with a thick coat and snowboots, hands shoved deep in the pockets to hide the slight shake. down the main road, an arbitrary turn into an alley and down an abandoned path, into a part of the city he’d never traveled. but a golden thread had tied itself around his heart, pulling without hesitation. he easily hopped over the fence gate, not bothering with hauling it open through the snow. the path beyond was covered in a thick layer of powder, his foot crunching through a foot of it before hitting solid ground. still, he continued.

snezhnayan winters were not warm. they bit and dug into every gap in your clothes, stealing away the precious warmth within. and yet, with his half-done coat and incomplete guard, he was not cold. or, rather, he couldn’t feel it. his hands were pink with frost, stiff at the knuckles, but he couldn’t feel the resistance. his body was not important, not now.

the snow began to thin. it fell from his knees to his shins to his ankles to his toes, until he was face to face with a thick wall of bramble, impossibly overgrown. he was beginning to overheat in his jacket. twin blades made quick work of the wall, and the sight behind it easily dispelled any breath left in his lungs.

the air that washed out of the bubble was thick and heavy, like a humid spring instead of snezhnayan woods. his breath came in short gasps, a shameful wheeze that he hoped was missed beneath the howling snow. he didn’t want you to see him as weak, as someone so easily tired by a short trip to a falling star; he didn’t want you to think of him as anything other than his best.

but you didn’t push him away. you helped him up—his head was buzzing with delusion, he could hardly see, when had he fallen to his knees?—and brushed the snow off his hair, not pushing him away when he leaned into your touch. he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could barely collect himself enough to recognize that he needed to get you inside, away from the wilds.

that was power. to so effortlessly take over every thought in his head, to hold his mind in your hands and pull it into your liking, that was the power he adored you for. gods were figureheads of power, a physical incarnation of their dominion. a god of the entire world would only naturally have power to manipulate that world to their liking. how blessed was he, that he could be the first you made yours.

he was with you when you first stepped into zapolyarny palace, looking around at the chandeliers and fine tile. he opened the door for you to her majesty’s throne room, sucking in a sharp breath as you brushed by. he was by your side when the tsaritsa swore you her fealty, delicately placing the gnoses in your hands.

and oh, how he’d fallen to the floor right then and there, dizzy from the wash of power that rolled off you in waves, an ocean that he willingly dove into. the floor was cool beneath his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin as sweat quickly began to bead. he didn’t bother pushing himself up on his hands, teeth sinking deep into his lip again to control his panting breath. copper bloomed over his tongue, filling his mouth and clogging what remained of his senses.

dimly, he was aware that he was being pathetic, that this would surely change your mind about him. he heard your voice, faint through the fog of his mind, your wisdom lost to his own inadequacy. and yet, despite his weakness, every part of him was tuned into you. he knew it was your hand whispering across his shoulders, he knew it was your influence that stole the breath from his lungs. he knew it was you, because it was always you. you were all he could think of, and now you were finally able to leverage your full power over his self.

he’d woken up in a hospital bed. saline dripped into his arm and the lights pierced his eyes, his head full of snow and iced over. and yet, the moment he was cleared for release, he found himself desperate to be back to your side, racing through the tiled halls of the palace and following the urgent burn in his chest. you would have been right to turn him away, to deem him too weak to stay by your side, but you didn’t. you smiled when he lost his breath and laughed when he wavered, brushing off his concern. you invited him with you—his lungs burned with the need for oxygen—as you twirled the gnoses between your fingers, as if they were toys or paperweights rather than objects of divine power.

divine to him. child’s play to you. a courtyard of snow was cleared in an instant, ripples of pyro melting permafrost while keeping the flora beneath intact, a lazy show of power that pulled little more than a slight hum from you in response.

he wasn’t so much a fool as to think he could teach you everything, or even something, about being divine. and yet he clung to your side like a sailor in a storm, watching as you grew familiar with the elements. he watched, stubborn and weak, as you stopped hesitating.

flowers bloomed as you walked by, crumbling to ash with the slightest look. electro jumped from your skin to his, a painful spark that drew his mind from his head, finally seeing your amused eyes instead of just mindlessly staring. you could—should—have just left him behind, but you didn’t. you instead asked for his help, taking his hand in yours and leading him to a quieter hallway of the palace. you didn’t comment on his thundering pulse despite the fact that you could certainly feel it, tracing a finger along the crease of his palm.

“i wonder…”

a claw of geo cut across his skin, a sharp sting that quickly welled with blood. he barely felt it, watching with detached awe as it filled up his hand, sliding over the edge and dripping to the floor. you didn’t show any emotion, just… watching. his heart beat in his hands, a pool collecting on the floor, and still, you just watched. your other hand moved over the surface, barely an inch away, the blood collecting in a bubble beneath it. with a hum, your fist tightened, pain lighting up his arm. a strained grunt slipped between his teeth, hand flinching closed, brushing against the ball of his blood you had pulled from his veins. his hand was stained red, shaking in your grasp, minutes stretched into hours.

all at once, it dropped, forced back into his body as forcefully as it was removed. with a snap, the skin stitched itself shut, and you were again dragging him along like a child did their favorite toy.

you did that a lot. pull him aside and experiment with whatever new reaction you had discovered that month, week, day, hour, watching his reactions with unabashed delight. and he let you. every time, without fail, he eagerly followed, knowing full well he’d end up rigid with lightning or with ice crystals studding his throat. it was worth it, though. you always fixed him up, squeezing his hand with a whispered ‘good job’ that never failed to make him dizzy.

it didn’t matter what you did to him. it never did. even when his mind was hazy with pain and he couldn’t quite stand on his own, he never regretted it. unconsciousness licked at the edges of his vision, burning black stains that lingered even after you stopped, but he never once hesitated.

if you asked him to jump, he’d ask how high. if you felt like holding him underwater, he’d cherish every bruise. to be kept as a toy was still to be kept.

[lale-txt]

˚₊·͟͟͞͞➳❥ +18 ; dilf!bokuto ; f!reader

retired pro-athlete bokuto kōtarō felt never more at ease in his life than he does now. he still gets up early for his morning run (much to your chagrin) but always returns with a sweet treat from the bakery down the road (much to your delight) and comes crawling back to bed with you after his shower, hair still damp and stubble scratching against your skin when he trails kisses from your jaw down to your neck. in all these years he hasn't lost an ounce of his energy and stamina, and while his body changed–a softer tum, grew a beard, less bruised hands–his adoration for you stayed the same, unwavering and steady.

bokuto doesn't ask for much in life. he's content with holding you, your back nestled against his front, big arms enveloping you from behind, the rhythmic pulsing of your cunt around his softening cock, the sheets a damn mess. you're so warm, dripping for me, baby. so perfect for me. the calloused pads of his fingers drawing lazy circles around your clit, making you squirm and whine so sweetly first thing in the morning. you are his favorite morning workout and he’s more than happy to oblige when you haven’t quite gotten your fill yet, flipping you over so you’re straddling his thick thighs, a low ‘ride me’ murmured against the shell of your ear. 

to think that you were akaashi’s editor once; your first big girl job, so eager and full of life, always on his heel about meeting deadlines–only to call bokuto sobbing when akaashi locked you out or decided to delete half of the manuscript of his book without consulting you first. bokuto handled it. bokuto took care of everything. bokuto was there, he showed up when you needed a shoulder to cry on (and later a tongue to cum on) and always found the right words to put the sun back on your horizon. 

at first you only had bokuto on speed dial for when you needed a pep talk to pick up your confidence again; he was good at that–reminding you of what you’re capable of, having trust in you when you forgot how to, being the reassuring big hand between your shoulder blades. then, some time later, he talked you through your messy pillow humping sessions at the other end of the line, patiently waiting till your mewls and heavy breaths faded into soft snores and then staying up some more while you were sound asleep. eventually he got you a burner phone, one where he’d text you the address of whatever hotel he was staying at while on the road with his team, always a hot bath and room service ready for you when you arrived. it was a miracle when your feet even touched the ground really, from the way he picked you up at the threshold and carried you from one flat surface to another, preferably with your legs around his waist and his cock throbbing inside of you.

it was impossible not to fall for bokuto; not when he kisses you with his hands cupping your face as if he’s holding his entire world, or when the constellation of stars in his eyes carries your name, or when he murmurs your name like it’s a spell he’s under. whether your thighs are suffocating him while he eats you out like a man starved or fucks you against the hotel room window at the top floor–there’s no doubt his love runs deep, deep, deeper than his cock hitting the back of your throat, molding you like molasses. 

you are his to protect, his to keep, his to adore. his.

[anatomyleigh]

the urge to write a slowburn, strangers to crushing on each other for years, but i break your heart over and over again because i'm a superhero and i don't know how to be so many things at once and i also don't want you to be in danger because of me to maybe lovers, is so strong in me right now. do i dare?

[cookies-after-dark]

what if the reader happened upon smilk and pv fucking their frustrations out and attempted to leave, assuming their crushes liked each other and not them, when smilk grabs them and oops whoops now they’re joining in

additional tags: explicit content, beast x ancient

I actually answered something like this a while back!

[deerspherestudios]

Hi I don’t know if I asked this before but where did mychile (sorry if I spelled that wrong) get his chickens from it’s been on my mind since I found out he had them

I've actually answered that here! Basically he went to a farm and bargained/bartered for them on top of using his hypnosis ability so the interaction went down without issue. He only dared to try it with one chicken first (Rosie) before acquiring two more at another farm (Marmar and Sunny) after Rosie stopped laying eggs.

Also gentle friendly reminder to look at the FAQs here and here! I've answered some great Mychael lore, anatomy, etc questions there so feel free to have a read! It still needs to be updated however.

[the-raindeer-king]

Prt 2 to my cuddling headcanons. Includes: Nikolai, Laswell, Valeria, Alejandro, Rudy, König, and Graves

Nikolai intentionally keeps his place cold. That way you're forced to cuddle up to him. I think he prefers facing each other, your head tucked beneath his. But he's adaptable and willing to cuddle however is easiest for you to fall asleep.

Kate is always in bed after you are. She's a busy woman, so she's got long nights. Sometimes she just slips into bed and passes out. But some nights, she'll either pull you closer to her, or she'll mold her body against yours. Depends on what's easier for her.

Valeria is also a busy woman, but she's always home in time to catch some sleep with you. You spoon when you cuddle. Sometimes you’re the big spoon, sometimes you’re the little spoon. Depends on how you’re facing, when she gets home. She prefers being the little spoon, so she can face the door, but it’s also because she likes having your arms around her.

Alejandro insists that when you cuddle, he’s the big spoon. But he’s a liar. There’s nothing he loves more than coming home after a busy day, and falling into your lap, his face pressed against your stomach. He gets so comfortable like that, that you both end up falling asleep on the couch. Your back hurts the next day, but knowing he got sleep is worth it.

Rudy loves to cuddle. Have you seen him? He’s got the build to be the best cuddler. His favorite position is having you in his lap, your back to his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist. Makes him feel good about himself, even on his worst days. Like he can protect you from the world (he probably can).

König’s favorite way to cuddle is you on top of him. The man is so big that even if you were plus sized, he’d be fine. He welcomes the compression and lowkey enjoys being able to hold you like a stuffed animal. You don’t stay like that for too long, after he falls asleep. He moves around too much, but you always wake up with his face pressed into the crook of your neck, one of his massive arms wrapped around you.

Graves refuses to admit it, but he loves being the little spoon. He’s always in charge, bossing other people around, and it’s nice to just be held, to let someone else take care of him. He likes it, when you’re laying in bed, his face squished against your chest, your nails raking through his hair. It puts the man to sleep in seconds flat, and it’s the one thing he misses the most when he’s on deployment.

[neetily]

hiii could i request some forced breeding with eden :3

you most certainly can ml!!! thank you for your patience in waiting for me to get to this request <3

warnings: baby trapping, pregnancy mention, dubcon, creampie wc: 1,046

It's just so warm, and so, so fucking tight inside of you. Soft and squishy, not unlike your hips he grips onto for dear life— strong enough to leave a mark, surely, which though is unintended, has his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought nonetheless. The little pudge of your tummy as he folds you in half with such ease catches his attention, utterly pinned in every sense of the word as he hovers heavily above you, legs locked around his neck because there's nowhere else for them to be at the moment, and that little pocket of tummy has him drooling. Cock and mouth, slobbering over you as if he were in heat, thumbing away at the sweet fat of your tummy idly to give away his inner thoughts through loving actions.

He wants to see you grow fatter. More than anything in this world, actually. He wants to knock you up so that you may never leave him.

That's what's got him acting up so badly tonight.

And all it took was the exhaustion from a particularly tough night of hunting for him to give in to his selfish desires, pouncing on you as soon as he got home to see you still remaining at his secluded little cabin in the woods. That's gotta count for something, right? That means you want this too, right?

Well, at the end of the day, what you want doesn't fucking matter. Because he's just so much bigger, and stronger, and more wanting than you are with your pitiful attempts to wriggle away, and meek little whines and sighs that only encourage him to continue his brutal pace of in and out. Because it is, in fact, brutal. There's no other way around it— he doesn't know how to love as gently, softly, or as kindly as you deserve.

Besides, to breed is to return back to primal instincts, no?

His voice comes out hushed and full of dominance when reprimanding your attempts to escape his iron grip, a tense little "Quit it." is all the warning he's willing to give you right now, and he hopes it'll be enough. Mostly because he feels wholly incapable of restraining himself at the moment, exerting all his energy in the hopes of planting his seed in your squishy little womb, and fuck— the sound of his heavy with cum balls slapping against your ass is so so nice, and the look of utter worry you wear in the face of his overwhelming need is so cute; has his cock twitching in all the right places to send a pleasurable shiver down his crooked spine. So far bent over you that all he casts is shadow, as if dragging you into the dark with him.

Which is not so bad, he muses to himself. It feels nice, if your cunt is anything to go by. Wrapped around him so well, choking his fat cock as he fills you up over, and over again, with breeding intent. Pressing your body down, unfairly against the cold hard wood floor of his cabin that he'll have to soothe your sore spots of later tonight. Tugging and squeezing at every inch of your perfect wife material body because he wants to, and because he can.

It's just that simple. He wants to fuck a baby into you, so he will. It's not like you've got anything else to be doing besides raising his kids, right?

And you look so pretty when being forced to lay there and fucking take it too. Like you were made for this, to be barefoot and pregnant for the rest of your life. It wouldn't be so bad, right? You'd be warm, and safe, and oh, he can already imagine the pitter patter of little baby feet keeping you busy around the cabin, all while he hunts to care for his perfectly crafted family.

He can hardly stand the thought, honestly. Seething with pure greed, stored in his fat balls that promise to force fuck his seed right into your abused cervix. He can already feel the way his dribbling tip kisses against it, repeatedly begging for entry on the dirty cabin floor. There's no better place to be bred, right? In the very home you'll remain in, locked away to care for him and his brood— and fuck he's close.

"Promise t'knock y'up." he suddenly leans down, whispering the words against the shell of your ear so that you intrinsically understand just how serious he is right now. "Gonna be such a good mommy, good fuckin' wife too—" he huffs, grunting against your neck as he toys with the idea of latching on to you mid fast fuck, but the thought is all it takes.

All he needs is to pump into you a couple more times before making good on that promise. Fat fucking load shooting thick ropes against your insides, his thrusts halting to bury himself full fat cock deep in your too tight little cunt. Where he belongs from now on, yeah? Balls deep in you, making sure to rub his tip as deep as he can to hopefully make some of his seed stick— though he's already intent in trying again, and again, and again. There's something nice about imagining knocking you up on the first go, forcing you to carry his child in that cute little tummy of yours until he inevitably wants another. But he's willing to keep trying until it sticks. You're more than worth it, he thinks.

Eventually, after riding out his orgasm fully, deep, humming groans escape his spent lungs as he fills you up full, and he has to struggle to hold himself up so as to not fall on top of you after giving you his all. Rough and greedy, he doesn't have the strength to get you off too, instead allowing his cock to soften inside of you to keep as much of his cum pressed against your cervix as possible.

"Gimmie a few minutes," He exhales heavily, running a scarred hand through his sweat soaked hair to try and cool off. "Will try again in a sec."

And by the way you're whining in response, he assumes you can't wait for round two either.

[isacksteban]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (1) (Prologue)

Lance sat at the same round table in the campus café, nursing yet another iced coffee, but this time, his nerves were frayed. His mind kept replaying the interaction with Dr. Alonso from the day before — the way his gaze had lingered, the way his voice had softened when he said Lance’s name.

“Earth to Lance.”

Jessica’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She, Esteban, Charles, and Zhou were all gathered around him again, but this time, they looked like they were dying to know what was going on inside his head.

“So?” Charles prompted, leaning in eagerly. “What’s the plan? Are you gonna talk to him again?”

"Are you going to suck him off?" Somehow, Zhou always knew what to say to get Charles to try and knock some sense into him.

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t have a plan. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Esteban snorted. “You’re definitely flirting with him.”

“I’m not—”

Jessica cut him off with a knowing grin. “Oh, you are. And he’s flirting back.”

Lance peeked at her through his fingers. “You really think so?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Yes, Lance. We all think so. The only question is: what are you gonna do about it?”

Before Lance could answer, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the email notification:

From: alonso@mit.edu

Subject: Office Hours

Lance tapped the screen, opening the email.

Mr. Stroll,

I noticed you seemed uncertain during yesterday’s lecture. If you’d like to discuss the reading further, I’ll be holding office hours this afternoon at 2 PM.

Dr. Fernando Alonso

Lance stared at the message, his mind racing.

Jessica grabbed his phone out of his hand. “Oh my God. He totally wants you to come see him.”

Zhou whistled. “Office hours. That’s classic professor code for ‘I want to see you alone.’”

Lance snatched his phone back. “It’s not—” He stopped, rereading the email. “Okay… maybe it is.”

Esteban grinned. “You’re going, right?”

“I don’t know,” Lance muttered, his fingers twitching over his phone. “What if I’m wrong? What if he’s just being nice?”

Charles shook his head. “Nice professors don’t stare at their students like they’re dessert, Lance. Go.”

Jessica smirked. “Besides, don’t you want to see him? You’ve been drooling over his forearms for weeks.”

Lance flushed. “Fine. I’ll go.”

At 2 PM sharp, Lance stood outside Dr. Alonso’s office door, his palms sweaty again. He raised his hand to knock but hesitated.

Before he could talk himself out of it, the door opened.

Dr. Alonso stood there, impeccably dressed as always, his expression calm but unreadable.

“Mr. Stroll,” he greeted, stepping aside to let Lance in. “I’m glad you came.”

Lance swallowed hard and stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dr. Alonso closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock sounding far louder than it should have.

“I thought we could go over the reading in more detail,” Dr. Alonso said, motioning for Lance to take a seat. "it's not often you struggle in my class so i'd rather eliminate any possible confusion before you get behind."

Lance sat down, trying not to fidget as Dr. Alonso moved to sit across from him. The desk between them felt like a flimsy barrier, one that could easily be crossed.

“So,” Dr. Alonso began, his gaze steady. “Power dynamics. You seemed particularly interested in that topic yesterday.”

Lance cleared his throat, struggling to find his voice as he pursed his lips into a fine line. “Yeah, um… it’s an interesting concept.”

Dr. Alonso tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It is. Especially when applied to… certain relationships.”

Lance’s breath caught.

“Tell me,” Dr. Alonso continued, his voice dropping just slightly, “what do you think happens when one person holds more power in a relationship? How does it affect… let's say, attraction?”

Lance’s heart was racing now. Was this still about ethics?

“I think…” Lance hesitated, meeting Dr. Alonso’s gaze. “I think it depends on whether the power is mutual.”

Dr. Alonso leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “And do you think it can be?”

Lance nodded slowly. “Yeah. If both people are willing to… share it.”

Dr. Alonso’s smile deepened. “A wise answer.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence.

Finally, Dr. Alonso stood, walking around the desk until he was standing just in front of Lance.

Lance looked up — he hadn't felt this small in god knows how long — his pulse thundering in his ears.

“You’re not just any student, Mr. Stroll,” Dr. Alonso said softly, his eyes never leaving Lance’s. “You’ve… caught my attention.”

Lance’s breath hitched. “I have?”

Dr. Alonso nodded, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from Lance’s forehead.

“Yes,” he murmured. “And I find myself… wanting to know more.”

Lance’s heart nearly exploded. Holy shit. This is actually happening.

“And you?” Dr. Alonso asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you feel the same?”

Lance swallowed hard, then nodded. “Oh, Yea— Yeah… I do.”

Dr. Alonso’s hand lingered for a moment before he pulled away, stepping back.

“We’ll need to be careful,” he said, his tone serious. “But if you’re willing to take the ri—”

Lance stood, closing the distance between them. “I am.”

Their eyes met once more, and this time, neither of them looked away.

Dr. Alonso’s lips curved into a smile. “Good.”

For a moment, the world outside the office ceased to exist. Lance could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, his gaze locked on Dr. Alonso’s — no, Fernando’s — dark, intense eyes.

Fernando leaned against the desk, his posture casual yet commanding. “You’re certain?” he asked, his voice low and deliberate.

Lance nodded again, more confident this time. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

A flicker of something passed through Fernando’s gaze — surprise, maybe even amusement. He crossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing under his rolled-up sleeves.

“You realize this… complicates things,” Fernando said, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

Lance couldn’t help but grin back. “I’ve never really been one to go for simple.” He figured that much was obvious considering he was a double major and had managed to take one of Fernando's classes two years in a row now.

Fernando chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Of course you haven’t.”

The tension between them hung in the air, thicker now, charged with anticipation. Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to close the remaining space between them again.

Fernando tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “There’s a fine line, you know, between temptation and consequence.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Which side are we on right now?”

Fernando’s smile deepened. “That depends on how far you’re willing to go.”

Lance took a slow step forward, his voice steady. “I told you — I’m all in.”

The room felt smaller now, the distance between them shrinking with each breath. Fernando watched Lance carefully, his expression unreadable, but there was no denying the spark in his eyes.

“I could lose everything,” Fernando murmured, almost to himself.

“And so could I,” Lance countered, his tone gentle but firm.

For a long moment, Fernando said nothing. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached out, his fingers brushing Lance’s cheek. The touch was light, tentative, as if testing the boundaries of what they were about to cross.

“You’re dangerous, Mr. Stroll,” Fernando whispered, his thumb grazing Lance’s jaw.

Lance smiled, leaning into the touch. “Maybe you like it.”

Fernando chuckled again, his hand slipping to the back of Lance’s neck, pulling him just a fraction closer.

“Perhaps I do,” he murmured, before finally — finally — closing the distance between them.

The kiss started soft, almost cautious, as if both of them were testing the waters. But the moment Fernando’s hand slid to the back of Lance’s neck, pulling him closer, the tension that had been simmering between them exploded.

Lance’s hands gripped Fernando’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t holding back anymore — neither of them were. Fernando's lips moved with purpose, deepening the kiss until it became all-consuming, leaving Lance breathless. Their mouths melded together in a frantic rhythm, desperate and hungry.

Fernando backed Lance up against the desk, his hands traveling down to Lance’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. Lance gasped into the kiss, his fingers sliding into Fernando’s hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from the older man. It sent a shiver down Lance’s spine.

“Fuck,” Lance whispered against Fernando’s lips, his voice shaky.

Fernando chuckled, his breath warm on Lance’s skin. “Language, Mr. Stroll.”

Lance laughed softly, tilting his head to capture Fernando’s mouth again, more eagerly this time. Their kisses grew messier, more fervent, teeth clashing and tongues tangling. Fernando’s hand slipped under the hem of Lance’s shirt, fingers tracing over his hipbones, and Lance arched into the touch.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” Fernando murmured, his voice low and strained.

Lance bit his lip, his cheeks flushed. “I think I’m starting to.”

Fernando’s lips found Lance’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw and down to his collarbone. Lance tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut as Fernando nipped at his skin, leaving faint marks.

“You’re driving me insane,” Fernando muttered, his grip tightening on Lance’s waist.

“Good,” Lance breathed out, pulling Fernando even closer. His heart was pounding, every nerve in his body alight with desire. “I want to.”

Fernando pulled back just enough to meet Lance’s gaze, his eyes dark with want. “Careful,” he said, voice rough. “You don’t know what you’re starting.”

Lance smiled, his lips swollen and his hair a mess. “Maybe I do.”

“I’ve wanted to do this for longer than I care to admit,” Fernando confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

Lance laughed softly, brushing his fingers through Fernando’s hair. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

The moment was perfect — until a sharp knock on the door shattered the silence.

Fernando pulled back quickly, straightening his posture and smoothing down his shirt. Lance stepped back as well, his heart still racing.

“Come in,” Fernando called, his voice calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.

The door creaked open, revealing Jessica standing there with a smug grin on her face.

“Lance, you’re late for our study session,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. Her eyes flicked to Fernando briefly before returning to Lance, a knowing look in her gaze.

Lance cleared his throat, grabbing his bag. “Right. Study session.”

Jessica smirked, stepping aside to let Lance out. “See you in class, Dr. Alonso.”

Fernando nodded, his expression perfectly professional. “See you, Ms. Hawkins.”

As they walked down the hallway, Jessica glanced at Lance. “So… how was your ‘context’ conversation?”

Lance groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t start.”

Jessica laughed. “Oh, I won’t. But Charles and Esteban? Good luck.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile, his mind still lingering on the kiss — the kisses.

“Worth it,” he muttered under his breath.

Jessica raised an eyebrow at him as they walked. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Lance said quickly, but the grin tugging at his lips gave him away.

Jessica looped her arm through his. “You’re glowing, Stroll. I’ve never seen you like this. I mean, I know Dr. Alonso is… well, ridiculously hot — but damn. I didn’t expect you to actually do something about it.”

Lance’s cheeks turned pink, and he tried to hide his face by looking straight ahead. “It wasn’t planned.”

“Oh, clearly,” Jessica teased. “You just happened to make out with your ethics professor during office hours. Totally normal.”

Lance groaned. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’ve been crushing on him for a while.”

Jessica stopped in her tracks, forcing Lance to do the same. “You think?”

Before he could answer, the sound of familiar voices echoed down the hallway. Charles and Esteban were leaning against the wall outside the study lounge, deep in conversation.

When they spotted Lance and Jessica approaching, Esteban’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where the hell have you been?”

Charles crossed his arms, a smirk already forming on his lips. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Were you—”

Jessica cut him off, grinning wickedly. “Let’s just say someone got a little distracted.”

Lance shot her a warning look. “Don’t.”

But Esteban was already piecing it together. His jaw dropped. “No way. No fucking way. You and Alonso?”

Charles barked out a laugh. “You absolute madman.”

“Guys, seriously—” Lance started, but it was no use.

“Holy shit,” Esteban said, his eyes wide. “This is like… forbidden romance. Teacher-student. Secret meetings. Do you know how scandalous this is?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “It’s not a soap opera, Esteban.”

Charles leaned in, his grin smug. “So… was it good?”

Lance flushed, glaring at his friends. “I hate all of you.”

“Come on, tell us,” Charles pushed. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who does anything halfway.”

Lance groaned again, rubbing his temples. “I’m not discussing my love life with you two.”

“Love life?” Esteban repeated, eyes wide. “You’re calling it a love life already?”

“God, you’re all insufferable,” Lance muttered, but he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. His thoughts kept drifting back to Fernando’s touch, his kiss, the way he’d looked at him like Lance was the only person in the world.

Jessica patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Lance. We’re just jealous. None of our professors look like that.”

“Or kiss like that,” Charles added with a wink.

“Shut up,” Lance hissed, though he couldn’t help laughing.

As they finally settled into the study lounge, Esteban leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, “So… what happens now?”

Lance’s smile softened. “Now? I guess… we figure it out.”

And, deep down, he already knew he was willing to take the risk — because something told him that whatever he and Fernando had started was only the beginning.

Next

[celestial-grls]

Party 4 You - Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you decide to go out with the women's basketball team and a certain member has always confused you - before now word count: 2.9k a/n: fav concept ever is #partypaige...title inspired by the best Charli XCX song ever. please leave comments / reblog if you liked this ok mwah <33

"It's my job that you come out with us tonight." A very out-of-breath KK Arnold informed you on the phone about her new job. 

"KK, did you just finish practice? Why are you out of breath?" You'd started an internship about two weeks ago, and when you agreed to take it, no one warned you that interning meant piling on a ton of work that no one else wanted to do. It'd felt awful to be holed up inside, spending nights hunched over a computer when everyone else was only getting their summer started. 

"Was just playing pick up with Paige and Ice," KK sighed, "So, did you make up your mind yet?" 

"Ugh, I don't know. There's a ton of stuff missing in some of these documents they want me to edit. I still haven't even thought about what I'd wear if I did go out tonight—" You rambled on, pacing around your desk before KK interrupted. 

"I already know you got something in that never-ending closet of yours. Does that mean you'll come out tonight?" An air of hope in KK's voice made you pause to consider it. 

You mindlessly wandered all the way to your closet while you were on the phone with KK. Maybe it was a sign that your brand-new skirt was hanging on the door handle, begging to be taken out for a spin. You told KK, "Okay, I'll be there. But please, promise we will keep it contained, nothing crazy?" 

KK let out a scream that made you rip the phone away from your ear before she started laughing and said, "Come by later to pregame! Bye, Pookie!" 

You laughed at her excitement, "Bye, KK!" 

The going-out section of your closet only served as a reminder of how crazy going out with some women's basketball team members can get. Between their boundless energy, how they seem to know everyone (including bartenders), and how they attract a crowd everywhere they go, there is no telling where the night can go once you join them. 

You met KK when you partnered up in your communications class and immediately found her hilarious. Plus, it didn't hurt that she always got you better seats than the student section during basketball games. You knew that going out tonight meant you were going to see Paige, so it was crucial to keep yourself in check. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Paige and Ice took a water break while KK finished her phone call with you. 

"So Y/N's coming tonight?" Paige asked in confirmation. 

KK teased, "Why? So you can stare at her from a corner all night?" 

Ice added, "No, for real. Poor girl probably thinks you hate her." 

Paige interjects, "Alright, alright. We've talked to each other before. Y'all just don't wanna remember it." 

KK scoffs, "Girl, boo. Asking what her major is doesn't count. Especially because I already told you what it was before." 

They all gathered their things while Paige advocated for herself, "Y'all really have no faith in me, huh? Trust, it'll be a different story when I come by later." 

KK and Ice mumbled a combination of 'Yeah, sure' and 'Uh huh' before heading toward their building while Paige walked alone to hers. The truth was that she was a nervous wreck around you and always has been ever since KK and you became friends. 

It was one of those things that no one but Paige understood. She was her confident, relaxed self around her friends, in a stadium full of fans, even at events she would've never believed she'd find herself in. She got it in her head that maybe you didn't like her very much. Not because you were standoffish, you were actually the opposite. Paige never felt that you liked her enough to be around her alone. They were always in groups with their respective friends.

At first, none of her friends caught on to her little crush; she tried to keep it discreet. It was going well until you came over to watch movies and see them fight over the Xbox controller in a pair of striped sleep shorts and a UConn hoodie, and she officially became a goner. Sitting four feet away from you while you looked like that and periodically pushing your glasses up made her sweat from her palms and make her think up an excuse for leaving movie night early. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Ice's apartment was filled with chatter, and Paige's pregame playlist came from the speakers. Everyone's shot glasses were haphazardly crowded on the table while some girls mixed drinks. 

You adjusted the bottle of Tito's in the crook of your arm before knocking on the door. When Ice answered the door, you could already tell you needed to catch up with everyone. She immediately wrapped you up in a hug and excitedly screamed, "We missed you, Pookie! And you came prepared." 

"I always do," You told her as she took the vodka from you so that you could adequately say hi to everyone. 

It was a natural relief to finally have a night out with friends, and any thoughts about work or deadlines didn't even cross my mind when I got to Ice's. 

KK must've been just as relieved to see you because she said, "Y/N, finally, someone who can make a mixed drink. I can't drink any of Paige's mid-ass drinks anymore." 

Paige looked offended and told her, "Call them mid, but they get it done." 

It's not like you received any formal mixologist training or bartending experience, but making drinks became your specialty whenever you went out. You got straight to work making KK her favorite drink and handing it to her. 

KK graciously sipped it and said it tasted "Perfect, as always." 

You turned around to see Paige standing empty-handed and decided to ask, "Want me to make you something?" 

Your pretenses were completely innocent, but how you softly smiled and batted your eyelashes made Paige's heart jump. Plus, she'd only heard five-star reviews about your drinks, so she couldn't refuse anyway. Once she gave you the okay, she was gearing up to ask you where you learned to make drinks like that until KK interjected, already half her drink downed. 

"Don't worry, Y/N. She's not picky."

You were done with the drink and ran to the fridge, your little heels clacking on the wooden floor, to grab the jar of maraschino cherries. When you topped off Paige's drink and handed it to her, you shrugged, "I have a feeling she'll like it." 

There it was again—your self-assuredness and complete ease in any situation made Paige feel weak and wobbly around you. The shiny red cherry on top, matching the shiny coat of lip gloss you were sporting, didn't make it any easier for her. 

She usually hates anything that tastes like alcohol, so whatever you made her was incredible. "This is fire. What is it?"

"A dirty Shirley. You like?" You stood looking up at her, hoping the drink could be a peace offering or a way to make Paige like you a little more. You never knew why she seemed more reserved or conscious around you, but you knew it always drove you crazy. 

"These are dangerous." Paige concluded with approval, and KK said, "Told you." 

After everyone was tipsy enough and you caught up with what some girls had been up to in the last couple of weeks, it was time to get into the Uber to start your night. Time collapsed into a whizz of final lip touch-ups, shuffling clumsy bodies into one car and waiting in anticipation to let loose. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a corner of the bar with a karaoke machine that KK and Paige excitedly ran over to like it was a toy. Everyone downed the shots you bought and got ready to hear their performance. They did their best rendition of 'Kiss Me More' and sounded nothing like SZA or Doja Cat, but since everyone was tipsy, they danced anyway. Paige and KK looked right at home, singing with their arms wrapped around each other and sassily dancing whenever they caught Ice or Azzi filming them. 

When they finished, your little group applauded their effort, and Paige unexpectedly took her place next to you and Azzi. She looked a little smug, sipping the drink in her cup with her other hand resting in her pocket. 

Azzi piped up, "Tone deaf and singing Doja Cat is crazy." 

Paige scoffed, "Alright, Azzi, I don't remember asking." Azzi and Ice got up to sing next, and Paige shifted closer to you. 

Emboldened by the drinks, she nods at you and says, "I like this skirt on you." 

You feel it in your face first, flushing from having her eyes on you. You played it cool and told her, "Thank you, the skirt likes you, too." As you said it, you didn't exactly know what it meant, but it made sense in your drunk brain. 

She laughs and nervously twists the bracelet on her wrist. "So what'd you think of my singing?"

You pretend to think about it, "You ball better than you sing." 

Azzi and Ice are making an Usher song into a duo. You sip on your drink while taking a video of them that they'll definitely be humiliated by tomorrow. 

Paige looks at you and asks, "Oh, so you've noticed?" 

You don't know where this confidence came from. Usually, Paige avoids you whenever you're out. You figure it's because she's been drinking and having fun after an intense season. You're suspicious of it, but you like this version of her. "You know I come to games." 

"Haven't seen you in a minute, though. You been busy?" 

You repeat what she said right back to her, "Oh, so you've noticed?" 

Paige laughs, touching your arm and lingering near your elbow. "I'm being for real. What you been up to?" 

Her touch makes you feel dizzy, going straight to your distracted brain while you try to find an answer for her. "Got an internship, and they're already overworking me." Before Paige can respond, you shift closer to her to ask, "Can I ask you something, Paige?" 

She steadies her eyes on you and says, "Sure, what's on your mind?" 

You start, "I don't know…Normally, you don't talk to me much." You kept it lighthearted, teasingly asking, "Am I that scary?" 

Paige looks down at her sneakers, "Nah, not too scary." She added, "M'glad you came, though." 

You looked up at her as she wet her lips and said, "I'm glad I came, too." 

When Ice and Azzi finished singing, they were exhausted from exerting so much effort. You rounded everyone up and announced, "Everyone's gotta do a shot, I'm buying!" 

After another round of green tea shots, all hopes for a contained and calm night went out the window. Some girls broke off into different groups inside the bar as they ran into different acquaintances and friends. There was even more karaoke, only getting slightly sloppier and more tone-deaf with time. Sometime between you dancing behind the DJ table and your third drink, your exchange with Paige from earlier caught up to you. 

You couldn't even precisely identify what you were feeling at the moment. You thought Paige was indifferent toward you, or at least not keen on getting to know you beyond being KK's friend. But when you remembered the feeling of her fingers grazing your arm, you felt confused by it. Suddenly, an emotional wobbliness started to creep up on you, and your next instinct was telling you to duck outside for a minute. You handed your drink to Azzi and told her you needed some air and would be right back. 

It was cool enough outside to wrap your arms around yourself comfortably as you stood with your back against the wall. When you leaned your head back to close your eyes and take a breath, you tried to collect your thoughts. It was bouncing around a few things: deciding what to doordash later when you got home, mentally writing a small to-do list of internship work, and Paige. 

You thought about how her hands looked around the drink you made her at the pregame, her long legs in a pair of cargos you liked on her, how she sounded so sincere when she told you she was glad you came. It was a lot, and your brain would overheat if you didn't duck out when you did. You were so startled when all you heard was, "Hey," coming from somewhere on your left. 

It was just Paige, who currently had her hands on your shoulders after you almost jumped out of your skin at someone coming up to you. She apologized profusely before she said, "Wanted to see if you were good." 

Your eyes soften at this. You forget that you were concentrating so hard on your shoes that you were about to burn a hole in them. It was replaced by Paige's presence, comforted automatically by her taller frame blocking out the view of the street at night. 

You straightened up, adjusting the purse she was touching on your shoulder, and evening your voice enough to say, "I'm good; I just needed a second." 

Paige looked down and nodded, "Good, good. DJ booth looked empty without you dancing." 

You shook your head and laughed, "Been a minute since I could dance until my feet hurt." 

"You think you'll feel it tomorrow?" With how Paige looked at you, you thought she was much more sober than you probably were. 

You shrug, eyes feeling heavy as you lean into the wall, "Think we all will." 

Right as you say that, all the rest of your friends start shuffling out. They were clearly tired. You remember they all decided to play an entire pick-up game earlier and announced they were ready to call it a night. No one disagreed. All of you had fun, but it was time for the drunk food and pajamas part of the night. 

Paige urgently needed to spend more time with you. One of those game-time decisions seemed to come out of nowhere when she said, "Y/N and I should take a separate one since our buildings are close together and everything." 

Thankfully, all your friends were gone enough to not question it and felt safe in knowing it was best everyone went home in a group instead of alone this late. It sounded sensical to you, even though you hadn't remembered that you and Paige lived in neighboring apartment buildings. But then again, you haven't been anywhere but work or home, which felt like forever, so maybe you hadn't noticed. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something about being in this car in the backseat with Paige felt right. She spread out in the back while you crossed your leg, shifting your weight so the tip of your shoe would brush against her leg whenever the car stopped. 

It was a short ride from the last bar your friends hit to your apartment building. There were hardly any red lights, but you wished for at least one or two more. 

You turned to question Paige, "I didn't know you lived close to my building." 

She pressed her lips together, "KK didn't mention it?" 

You shook your head, more wide-eyed now that you sobered up.

Paige added, "I got a bigger place after the last semester ended." 

You nodded and teased, "Okay, big baller, I see you." 

Paige snickered and thanked the driver while you guys got out. She walked you into your building and even rode the elevator with you. When you asked what she had planned for the night, she mentioned some Advil and a big glass of water. When she asked you the same question, you told her about door-dashing some Taco Bell and taking your makeup off. 

She felt like you guys made it to your door too soon. You each stopped before it as you fished for your keys inside your purse. When you turned to tell her, "Thanks for walking with me. Text me when you get to your building."

Paige got that look again as if she was about to say something to you, the same one she made when you plopped the maraschino cherry into her pregame drink. She scratched the back of her neck, "S'no problem. And I will." 

You said, "Night, Paige." as you leaned against the door frame and kicked your heels off into a corner, shrinking in height and making Paige even taller than you for a moment. 

She paused to tell you, "Night, Y/N."

When you changed into your pajamas and got your cotton pads out to remove your makeup, your phone chimed with a text from Paige that read: Home. Remember to take that makeup off

You loved the message and wrote back: Doing it right now. Drink a glass of water for me!

You knew Paige had to go through group chats with all the girls in it to select your contact and text you personally since you guys had never texted each other before. It felt like too much to process in your state, and you thought it best to deal with it tomorrow. When you went to hang up your skirt, you ran your fingers over the fabric and silently thanked it for whatever magic it might've done for you tonight.