#the idea of him being like. i want i want i want and not knowing how to separate that from the hunger he's always had

[thisdudedoesntexist]

I had a fic idea but don't know where to go with it, so if you want to expand on anything feel free.

So, Danny's finally an adult who's off to college at Gotham (the STEM there is crazy for how many supervillains have doctorates). Since Vlad actually took the time to heal and grow past his issues and turned into the crazy Bi uncle he was supposed to be, Danny's got his college paid for.

In the form of $50,000 and an kinda ok motel near the upper west side.

He tried asking his former nemesis why he's done this but Vlad just told him it's so he has some "pocket change and experience".

Danny's been spending the past few weeks aceing his his STEM middling at literature and upgrading the motel into something actually decent.

His business seem to be attracting the strangest living too. That's saying something since he's got ghostly and living guests. Danny knew this place was cursed but still feels surprised every time they show up.

1st: A nice lesbian couple came on the first night cause one with green-ish skin named Pam according to the pale lady named Harley felt the vegetation get really excited when he came. He had about an hour of questioning on Ectology and who Undergrowth was.

2nd: A 10ft tall crocodile man named Waylon came in cause of Harley's recommendation, he looked like he'd run any moment. That night he made sure his staff wouldn't mistreat people like him and by the time croc left there was a glowing sign by the door about how different guests are to be treated with respect no matter how they look.

3rd: THE Red hood showed up asking about a kid who worked there. Her name's Zoe and when her parents reaction to their kid being trans was to kick her out of the house at 17. She biked to the motel to get some rest before catching the bus out of Gotham, got a job checking people in instead and has since found an actual family with the help of Amorpho a social worker Danny met a few years ago.

4th: the most recent event was when Gotham's play boy prince and his cousin Kate Kane stumbled in during his shift at the front desk. Mr. Wayne was pretending extremely well to be drunk while his cousin was wrangling him awkwardly. If Danny didn't have super senses he wouldn't have noticed he was acting, or the tracker added to his cuff when he was semi-forced to shake "Bruce, just Bruce. Everyone's always so stiff." Hand. The tracker had little legs and crawled under his shirt, creepy and fascinating.

[yeonzzzn]

Heeseung teaching inexperienced reader how to ride him while he sucks on her titties wtfhsjshekwjekke

“fuck, baby, just like that.” heeseung moans against your breast, mouth wrapped around your nipple as his tongue flicks the sensitive bud. one hand gripped tightly on your waist while the other cups your other breast, “you’re doing so so good baby.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, fingers digging into his shoulders as you ride him. legs growing weak and shaky as your hips roll. the fear of you riding his cock wrong still sat at the back of your mind, but hearing heeseung’s moans and feeling his mouth switch to your other nipple shreds that fear almost away.

it wasn’t even an hour ago you sat right beside your best friend on this coach spreading nonsense chatter as you usually do as you both play video games on his tv. but somehow this idle chatter turned into a real conversation, one you were not expecting.

“what you mean you’ve never ridden a dick before?!” heeseung raises a brow at you, eyes still locked onto the fighting game you’re both playing, “you’re not a virgin, I was literally a bedroom away when you lost your v-card! and you’ve had multiple partners since then!”

you groan at the stupid memory from a high school end of the year party. heeseung dragged you to it, saying bullshit equivalent to “Y/N, it’s the end of our senior year! we are about to graduate! loosen up a bit!” then proceeded to put drinks in your hand and you somehow ended up in park sunghoon’s bedroom upstairs on your back and him between your legs after flirting with him the entire night. it wasn’t the ideal way to lose your virginity, mostly since your best friend was indeed the next bedroom over fucking the most popular girl in your class, but here we are.

“don’t remind me,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing the playstation controller onto the coffee table, “but just because i’ve slept with a few guys doesn’t mean we did anything but missionary.” which was true. you’ve had multiple partners over the last few years but they were either one night stands or quick fucks. always ended with you on your back and that’s it.

this perks and idea into heeseung’s brain, tilting his head to the side and staring up at his ceiling, “I could teach you, if you want.” you laugh way too loud. he couldn’t be serious. but you see the way he looks back at you as he too, sets the controller down, “i’m being serious, Y/N.”

you swallow, is this okay? to have your best friend teach you a new sec position? and to do it GOOD? you already know heeseung is some sex god, he brags about it all the time…so you know it would be worth it. you can’t deny and say you haven’t thought about what his cock buried deep within you felt like. and he’s practically giving handing you that pass.

“i-if you’re okay with it…” you whisper.

and god was he okay with it. heeseung didn’t hesitate pulling you into his lap and closing his mouth around yours. he could feel your tremble under his touch and fuck it was making him hard as hell. “now, just do as I say, okay?” he says between kisses, hands now cupping your ass, “but I also need you to understand at any point you feel uncomfortable tell me and we’ll stop.”

you stare in his eyes and knew, you wouldn’t want to.

heeseung keeps his eyes locked with yours as he strips you bare, loving the feeling of your hands removing his clothing afterwards. loves the swallow of your throat and heaving of your chest as you stare at his cock, mouth nearly watering at how red the tip was. heeseung has been in love with you since the day you guys met, and finally having you in his lap, naked, in his apartment was the best dream come true.

he helps guide you to where you’re hovering over him, tip pressed gently to your entrance. you clench around the small amount of him you can feel, fingers pulling at the cushion of the couch behind him. you shook with absolute fear that you’re going to be terrible at this. “slowly slide down on me,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours. you do as he says, sneaking down until he filled you completely, thighs clenching his hips as you both let out a desperate moan. you’re so tightly wrapped around him and fuck he could climax just by the pressure of your cunt surrounding him.

“now,” he breathes out shakily, “start with slowly moving your hips, once you get the feel of it you can use your legs to help shift you up and down my cock. we’ll start with those two steps.”

and fuck he was going to die right here on this couch. one slow movement from you was all it took for him to fling his head back and clinch your waist, nails leaving crescent moons in your skin.

now here you are, his mouth attached to your tits as you bounce on him. what turned into just teaching you how to ride a cock resulted into a full out fuck fest. you can’t get enough of him, and he of you. you didn’t want to stop—not with how fucking good the tip of him felt as he hit your spot, treating to break the barrier that’s keeping him from fully and completely being inside of you. you knew you’d cum at any moment, the clench of your pussy was the give away of it, and heeseung knew it too.

he released his mouth from your tits, hands placed firmly at your hips and he flings his head back, your swollen nipples brushing his chest with each rock of your hips. heeseung’s pupils were dilated and face so fucked out, he was going to burst at any moment too. and you relished in it, “you’re doing so good for me baby, taking my cock so well.”

you really don’t know what came over you after hearing those words, but your fingers were in his red hair, tilting his head further back into the couch, free hand still gripping his shoulder, “fuck I love your cock,” you whimper, “i’m going to cum—“ and heeseung bucked his hips up in time with your movements, shoving himself so deep and hard into you.

“cum with me baby,” he begs, mouth gapped and eyes locked in with yours, one of his hands leaving your hip to gently wrap around your neck, giving a small and gently squeeze. that pressure along had you climaxing on him, clenching down harder and that being enough for heeseung to spill his load into you.

you drop against him, feeling his arms wrap around you, “well,” he says out of breath, “you definitely know how to ride dick now.” you hum in response, having the confidence to do so. but sit up and look at him, knowing deep down you don’t want to ride any other cock that isn’t his. and you knew he was thinking the same thing.

[cherrygirlfriend]

Nerd!rafe starts noticing that he has a choking kink(being choked) but afraid to tell reader, until she realises herself and starts having fun with it until she actually does it

Girlll I love your blog

choke me

thank you for the request!! i hope you like this <3 nerd!rafe wants perv!reader to choke him. +18

rafe couldn’t stop thinking about it.

his head had just been in between your legs, your hands tugging on rafe’s hair hair pulling rafe closer to your cunt as his fingers were curling inside of you, hitting the spongy spot inside of you.

“yesyesyesyesyes-“ you moaned, pulling tighter on his hair as your gummy walls clenched and squeezed rafe’s fingers. but once your orgasm finally started subsiding, you let go of rafe’s hair and he climbed up your body, only for you to grab his neck and squeeze slightly, pleasure unexpectedly shooting up his spine and his cock basically jumping in the confines of his boxer shorts as you squeezed harder, making it even harder for him to breathe as you brought his lips to yours. “did so good for me baby…” you mumbled in between blissed out kisses. but the moment you let go of his throat, he couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment.

rafe couldn’t stop thinking about it, how good it felt to have you control of if he could breathe, if he deserved to breathe, but rafe had no idea how to even bring it up in conversation. he had always been awkward when it came to any sort of physical affection, and most of his friends weren’t too… experienced when it came to sex, so he knew he couldn’t ask them.

you were on top of him, your hand squeezing his throat as you rode him, mumbles of his name leaving your lips as you threw your head back, rafe’s hands holding onto your hips. “doing so good baby, doing real good for me…” you moaned, squeezing tighter.

rafe woke up with a startle, his skin flushed with sweat, his breaths coming out in a pant. the boy sat up in bed, running a hand through his sandy-colored hair as he took off his sweat-covered t-shirt, only to feel something wet in his boxer shorts. throwing off the blanket, rafe saw a wet spot at the front of the blue fabric, further confirming his suspicions as he lifted the waistband of his underwear. fuck.

later that afternoon, rafe was sitting at his computer, his glasses reflecting r/askmenadvice on reddit, open on a post he had made about an hour ago titled ‘how to tell your girlfriend you like to be choked?’

he was biting on the nail on his thumb as he read over the replies, taking a chug from the diet coke on his desk, a sigh leaving his lips.

u/softelectricity9

just say it to her lol

u/falseboldness

is she into choking you? if so, just try and show her that you’re into it as she’s doing it.

u/SnottyPotty15

Maybe try to ask her what she’s into and then mention what you like.

rafe was startled shitless by the sound of his door opening and banging closed. “hi baby!” a familiar voice called out at the door, causing rafe to abruptly turn off his computer monitor and turn in his chair, “hey, hi, baby…” rafe stood up and cleared his throat, smiling tightly at you as he scratched the back of his neck, “you, uh, you didn’t tell me you’d be coming by…”

“do i have to tell you every time before i come by? i was thinking we could go out to eat.” you grin, cupping his cheeks and pressing a quick kiss on his lips, “what were you looking at?”

“nothing.” rafe chuckled softly before clearing his throat, “i’ll, uh, i gotta return somethin’ to walter. i’ll be right back and we can go out somewhere. how about pizza?”

“mmm… ramen? i’m craving it.”

rafe let out a chuckle and nodded, “alright. be right back.” he said, grabbing a usb stick off his desk before heading out the door, the minute it clicked to a close, you were turning on his computer monitor. honestly, he should know you better by now. of course you were going to snoop. and once you saw what he’d been trying to hide, you couldn’t suppress your grin.

after the two of you got back from the restaurant, rafe was holding you in his arms as netflix was open on rafe’s laptop, only for you to not be paying any attention to it, more focused on looking up at your boyfriend, the screen reflected in his glasses.

“what are you staring at?” he mumbled, his eyes not straying from the screen. “you.” you replied, stroking the bare skin right above the waistband of his sweatpants, rafe’s shirt having ridden up. “and why is that?” the boy asked, his tone slightly amused.

“because.” you moved to straddle him, rafe’s eyes widening in surprise, no longer paying any attention to the show that was playing, “i want you.”

“you- uh-“

you pressed your lips against his to quiet him down before he could even say anything. rafe’s hands went to your hips almost automatically, drawing small patterns with his thumbs.

as your lips moved against rafe’s, your tongue teasing his, letting out a whine into your mouth as your hand went to his throat, gently squeezing. when you applied more pressure, you felt rafe getting hard under you. pulling your lips away from his, rafe looked up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“you know…” you lean close to his ear and whisper, “if you want me to choke you, you can just ask, baby.”

ty for reading! feel free to send reqs and check out my masterlist!

[piastriprincess]

diamond  bright  ,  kiss  me  right ⸻  lando  norris  x  reader  .

featuring  lando  norris  ,  new(ish) relationship , love  confession  ,  reader  is  dramatic  as  hell  but  we  love  her word  count  1.8k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  !  i  have  basically  thought  about  nothing  but  law  school  for  the  past  two  days  but  i  was  missing  being  creative  and  wanted  to  give  you  all  something  fun  .  as  a  number  one  lando  defender  i  LOVED  writing  this  .  i  firmly  believe  he’s  a  little  bit  of  a  simp  when  he  really  likes  someone  …  very  precious  TO  ME  !  as  always  come  tell  me  what  you  think  or  send  me  a  request  !  okay  now  back  to  my  finals  studying  cave  .  love  you  all  <3  title  is  from  claws  by  charli  xcx  !

It was never supposed to be serious. 

You knew Lando Norris. The party-boy reputation, the DJ sets, a different girl at every circuit. When he sidled up to you at a bar in Monaco with that charming grin on his face, those blue-green eyes sparkling like the Mediterranean behind him, you didn’t expect much. An evening of harmless flirting, maybe. He’d buy you drinks. You might go home with him, if he wasn’t unbearably cocky. (You had a feeling he might be.) He was a player — you’d written him off in your mind before he even opened his mouth.

Turns out, you didn’t know Lando Norris at all. 

You didn’t know he would talk to you that entire night, looking ridiculously pleased every time he made you laugh, like he’d won a prize he hadn’t dared to hope for and couldn’t believe his luck. You didn’t know he would walk you home, and instead of asking to be invited up, asking if he could take you to dinner, hands stuck in his pockets so you couldn’t see the way they trembled. You didn’t know that one date would turn into nearly six months of good-morning texts, of coming home to bouquets of flowers on your doorstep just-because, of slow kisses that burned you up from the inside. 

It was like trying on a dress that looked ugly on the hanger and finding it fit you so well you never wanted to take it off again. To make a long story short, dating Lando was kind of your favorite thing. You liked everything about him. And lately, when you lay tangled in his sheets at night, his arms wrapped around your waist and his mouth pressed softly to your shoulder, breathing in his clean, boyish scent, you thought maybe your feelings were more than simply liking him. 

You couldn’t tell him, though, not yet. You cringed at the thought of the awkward silence that would stretch between you if he didn’t say it back. You trusted Lando — he was sweet to you in a way that made your chest ache sometimes, in a way that you couldn’t imagine being fake. But what if the thrill for him was all in the chase, the reckless desire to get something he thought he couldn’t have? What if now that he had you, now that he really knew you, the shine had worn off?

So you kept it to yourself. Let him slow dance with you in his kitchen to a song you’d never heard, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at you. Let him text you stupid jokes and ridiculous strings of emojis in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. Let him scrape his teeth over your collarbone and whisper your name like a prayer into the darkness. Loved him quietly, secretly, in the private corner of your heart he hadn’t quite found yet. 

You told yourself it was fine. Things were good between you. Great, even. You weren’t going to mess it up by saying it first. You would wait until he did. 

If he ever did. 

—

The most embarrassing moment of your life starts with a phone call. 

You’re weaving through the aisles of the grocery store, looking for the pasta. Lando’s had a long day of sponsor meetings and media, but insisted that he wanted to see you anyway for your regular date night. You agreed, on the condition you could make him dinner; you like the idea of taking care of him for once, instead of the other way around.  

Your phone starts buzzing, and you pull it out of your pocket, greeted with Lando’s face — some ridiculous photo he’d taken of the two of you early on, your cheeks pressed together like two halves of a heart. You answer without hesitating, shifting the basket of groceries onto your hip. “Hey, you.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” His voice is light, but you can hear the weariness underneath he’s trying to cover up. “Just checking what time you were thinking of coming over. Zak added a last-minute meeting to the calendar, but I should be done by 7.”

You prop the phone between your shoulder and your ear, grabbing a carton of eggs. “That’s fine. I’m just picking up the stuff now, I’ll stop at home and then come to yours.” You lo- You like the domesticity of the conversation. You wonder if someday, you’ll make grocery lists together, wander through the aisles side-by-side.

“My little chef,” he says, warmth in his voice. “Give me a sneak preview of the menu. What are you making me?” 

“Oh, I thought I’d whip up some sushi,” you tease, grin on your face. You can imagine him on the other end of the phone, crinkling his nose in disgust, and the thought lodges in your chest with a far-too-familiar fond ache. 

“Right, I actually have plans. Can’t have you over anymore,” he deadpans, like clockwork. 

You let out a bark of laughter, throwing a box of pasta into your basket. “I’m kidding. Do you think I don’t remember your freakish aversion to fish?”

“Wow. My own girlfriend, bullying me,” Lando sniffs. “Might just die now. Wasting away, starving and alone, with no one to comfort me.” 

“I’m making carbonara, you big baby,” you snort, pressing the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you inspect two different wedges of Parmesan. “And maybe cookies, for dessert.” You place the cheese in the basket, heading for the checkout lane. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Oh, you’re a goner. It does something stupid to your heart. 

“Guess the universe knew you needed me,” you reply, unpacking your basket onto the conveyor belt. You’re moving a little slowly; you only have one hand to unpack while the other holds the phone.

He laughs. “Score one for the universe.” His voice drops a little lower, a little softer. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too,” you reply, fumbling for your wallet as the cashier eyes you with increasing impatience, tapping at the card reader. A line has grown behind you, you realize. “Shit. Lan, I gotta go. I love you, bye.” Click.

You slide your sunglasses over your eyes as you step out of the air-conditioned grocery store. The weather as you walk home is warm. The late-afternoon sun hangs low and golden in the sky, and— 

You nearly drop the bag you’re carrying, catching it just before the eggs shatter over the Monaco sidewalk.

You told Lando you loved him. And you didn’t even realize it. 

—

By the time you get home, you’re seriously considering faking your own death.

You stand slumped against the wall of the elevator, cheeks burning with humiliation. You’ve spent the entire walk thinking up what feels like a thousand different ways to play it off — jokes, sarcasm, pretending you were talking to the cashier instead of him. They’re all stupid, all equally unlikely to work on Lando. Maybe the best option is to cancel tonight in favor of lying facedown on your carpet and never moving again. 

The elevator doors ding and slide open. You step off, turn the corner down your apartment hallway, and there’s Lando’s standing on your doorstep. 

For a minute, you think it’s a hallucination, because he can’t actually be in your hallway. He lives on the other side of Monaco, practically, and there’s always traffic. You stare at him, taking in the ruddy cheeks, the way the sweat beads at his temples, how he’s still trying to catch his breath.

He ran here, you realize, heart thudding wildly in your chest. He ran. 

The silence is terrifying, stretching between the two of you like a chasm. Then:

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“You’re supposed to be in a meeting,” you blurt, eyes wide. 

“Fuck the meeting,” he rasps, gaze trained on you. “Did you mean it?”

You have an out, now. You could lie, say it was unthinking, a force of habit from calling your mother, your friends. You could stay where you are, with those three little words rattling around your head every second of every day, and pretend it doesn’t kill you to hold them back now that you know what it feels like on your tongue. 

Or you could tell the truth, and take the chance that you’ll lose something, because there’s a possibility you could get everything. 

You look at the wild-eyed boy in front of you, who ran across Monaco just to see your face, and you already have your answer. 

“Yeah,” you say, voice small and heart in your throat. “Yeah, I meant it.”

He closes the distance between you in two steps, cups your cheeks in his hands, and smashes his lips to yours. It’s desperate, wild — your teeth knock together, and when you gasp against his mouth, he slides his tongue against yours in a way that makes your knees buckle. You pull him closer, closer, hands fisting into his shirt like he might disappear if you let go. 

“I love you too,” he gasps when you finally break apart, like it’s paining him to hold the words back. “Fuck. Been wanting to tell you for weeks, but I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You laugh wetly, forehead pressed against his. “I love you,” you say, and his whole face cracks into a smile so bright it’s like you’re looking at the sun. 

“Say it again,” he breathes. The look on his face is so obvious, all soft and awestruck. You wonder, distantly how you ever thought he didn’t feel the same.

“I love you,” you repeat, every syllable deliberate, and his arms wrap around you so fiercely it knocks the air out of your lungs. You yelp as he lifts you off your feet, laughing against his neck, your legs kicking uselessly for a second before you just give up and cling to him instead. He carries you to your door like that, arms steady and warm around you, and for one dizzying moment you think you could stay like this — weightless and safe and stupidly, overwhelmingly in love — forever. 

Maybe it was never supposed to be serious. But when he hugs you from behind while you stir the pasta, whispering I love you into your ear for the hundredth time that night like a promise he intends to keep, you seriously don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

[peanutheaddd]

Hi! For ur swap au, how does Petey propose to dm? I could see dm beating him to it lmao

I LOVE BEING CRAAAZZYYYYYYYYY but this is about what i think it would go like HEEHHHH HAAAHHHHHH HAHAHAAAAHHHH IM SOO CRAZZYYYYYYYYYYYYY YAYYYYYY

oops got too excited and posted before i could finsih writing extra deets.

in my head theyre not rlly the type to do surprise proposals . like where they propose without ever talking about marriage or if theyre ready. so theyve alr talked about it all . the only mystery was when exactly eithier of them would pop the question

i also dont really think theyd make a big deal out of it . esp since dm is a more private person and he keeps to himself . petey Knows this so hes not gonna do something super extra and elaborate even if a part of him kinda wants to . there is lwk also some projection on my part bc ion rlly like the idea of huge elaborate fancy proposals . i get their appeal . js not my cup of tea . so in my head the proposal just happens on some random day when theyre js chilling at home or smth .

[beautyinthewayofthings05]

Dick would definitely go after Joker first. Jason has no idea and assumed he’d go after him. Tim however definitely knows and started finding ways to just mildly inconvenience Dick. Not enough that people suspect outside play but enough that it is definitely upsetting Dick.

Dick convinced that he’s somehow managed to do something to piss off some kind of luck god( or goddess he doesn’t assume) hides away in his apartment and Jason, assuming that since a couple days have passed he is now free to do his job as little brother, stops by without saying anything. Jason arrives at Dicks apartment to see it in total disarray trash everywhere and the kitchen, god the kitchen. Take-out trash litters every inch of the counter space and some even spills onto the floor. Jason is now slightly concerned not only about the mess but also Dicks eating habits. He makes some sort of comment about Dick being in his mid twenties and still eating like a child left to fend for their self and Dick still half asleep and already on edge mistakenly thinks that Jason is just one of his hallucinations arriving just to tell him how pathetic he is and instead of breaking down or getting angry he just gets up completely calm and leaves. Jason slightly more concerned now just opts to clean up his apartment and then meal prep for him.

While Jason is doing this Dick just up and brakes into Arkham to brutally murder the Joker. The scene is so bad that by morning when police arrive it makes even the most seasoned officers lose their lunch (even Gordon needs to step out for a couple minutes ). Afterwords Dick just leaves. He goes back to his apartment and sleeps for nearly 24 hours straight.

The batfam at this point is in total disarray and after reviewing the tapes are left speechless because that can’t be Dick in the footage no way. The golden boy breaking Bat’s number one rule. It just can’t be true most are considering the possibility of the footage being doctored somehow. But no it’s true and the only ones who believe it are Tim, Bruce, and Alfred. Tim the little evil genius who planned all this is like “well if he did it once then I guess he could do it again”. Jason already panicked is now screaming asking Tim what the FUCK he means by that. And Tim the chaos demon himself( who really just wanted Jason to come around more so that Dick would stop moping) and figured the best way to do that was to have someone avenge him) is like “oh wait you didn’t know. Yeah this is the second time Dick has killed the Joker” and watches with well hidden glee as Jason freaks out, jumps on his bike, and rushes off towards Dick’s place. When he gets there Dick is still sound asleep covered in Jokers blood and other bits of flesh. When Jason wakes him up to ask what the hell happened Dick has no clue what he is even talking about tells him as such before falling back asleep.

(Saw this and thought about dick killing the joker sorry it’s bad)

*Dick crashes out while on patrol and beats someone within an inch of their life*

Bruce: Dick might be a little bit fragile after last night, so let’s try to be sensitive.

Jason: Oh, believe me- I am going to be nothing but nice to Dick from now on. If he snaps and goes on a rampage, who do you think he’s coming for first?

Bruce: He’s not going on a rampage.

Tim: I bet he’d let me live. He likes me.

Damian: I’m just gonna say it. I never trusted him.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How you accidentally made Dante look like a hero again

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: All you wanted was to outsmart Dante and prove he was setting you up for demon attacks in order to get closer to you. Instead, you ended up buried under library rubble, fighting off scorpion demons, and getting saved by him — again. This is why you have trust issues.

Warnings: swearing, kinda enemies to lovers dynamic, I just love Dante y'all need to have mercy with me lol

You’re starting to think you’re cursed.

That’s the only explanation for it. How else do you keep ending up in demon-infested alleys, haunted casinos, and - once - dangling upside down from a stolen motorcycle, twice in the same week? No average person deserves so much distress.

But even worse: every time - every damn time - there’s Dante.

Bursting in like he’s auditioning for an action movie. Guns blazing, coat flaring behind him, a cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.

God, how much you hate that guy.

…do you?

"Oh no," you mutter under your breath when you spot him swaggering through the chaos yet again.

"Not this asshole."

"Miss me, babe?" he calls, spinning his sword once before cleaving a demon in half like it's no big deal.

You barely dodge a flying claw, pretty used to almost dying by now.

"Dante, why are there hellhounds in the laundromat?! I just came here to do my laundry!"

He winks at you like this is all part of some grand romantic plan.

"You know. Crazy city. You never know what’s gonna happen. Nice panties by the way, wish I could see them up close."

You stare at him, sceptical to say the least, as he shoots a demon that was two inches away from biting your head off.

"This is the fourth time this month. And every time you're 'coincidentally' nearby!"

He strolls over, casually beheading something with his sword like he's just stretching his legs. How many times have you seen this already? Probably like a hundred times.

This month.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, sweetheart."

You gawk at him. No, the thing he calls fate can’t be an accident. There is literally no way in hell that you get attacked even more often than himself. There has to be another reason. Could it be that…?

"Are you setting this up?!"

He gives you a look, all fake innocence and devilish grin.

That bastard.

"Who, me? Nahhh. Demons just have a thing for damsels. Lucky for you... I'm a professional knight in shining armor."

A piece of ceiling collapses dangerously close to you. You flinch for once. Dante doesn’t even blink, just throws an arm around your waist and throws you out of the way with way too much enthusiasm.

You land on your back with a grunt, staring up at the cracked ceiling and wondering what life choices led you here. Where did you take a wrong turn to deserve this? Being liked by a hot guy is all fun and games until the name of that jerk is Dante Sparda, apparently.

Dante leans over you, upside-down, grinning like a maniac.

"You good? Need mouth-to-mouth?" he offers helpfully.

You shove him off you, the heat of his body almost devouring you whole.

"I’m getting a restraining order."

"You say that, but then who’s gonna save you next time you almost get eaten by a possessed vending machine?"

You open your mouth to argue - and realize you have no idea how to deal with possessed vending machines. You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Maybe you’re the one who possesses everything around me…”

Dante pats your head fondly like you’re some kind of beloved but very dumb kitten.

"You mean like your thoughts? Most definitely, yeah. But don't worry, babe," he coos cheerfully, "I'll always be there to save your pretty little ass."

You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be comforting. Instead, you start mentally drafting your will.

“Get off me now, I need to get going jerk. And stop staring at my panties”, you hiss through gritted teeth while getting up, packing your things and leaving.

No, this isn’t an accident, not your fault by any means. Dante is the one who sets all of this shit up.

“That fucker…”, you mutter to yourself, slamming the door shut in fury.

You can’t do this anymore, can’t take seeing a demon each time you leave your house. You’ll have to teach him a lesson.

Yes, there has to be a way to stop this madness once and for all.

“I’ll catch you mid-act, Dante…”

You hatch a plan.

A pretty simple one: bait Dante into showing up, catch him red-handed, and finally prove he's arranging all this chaos.

You pick the most boring, demon-unfriendly place you can think of: the public library. No shady alleys, no creepy neon signs, no way in hell anything supernatural is hanging out between the tax law section and the dusty romance novels.

You text him a fake tip, something about "possible demonic activity" near the library, totally urgent, definitely needs his professional attention.

Then you sit back, tuck yourself into a corner with a stack of books, and wait.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty.

No Dante.

You start to relax. Maybe he finally got the hint. Maybe he's actually busy for once. Did your words from yesterday finally stir something inside of his brain?

And that's when the ceiling caves in.

You shriek as a massive scorpion demon crashes through the roof, scattering books and terrified civilians everywhere. Librarians are running for their lives. An entire row of encyclopedias explodes in a puff of dusty chaos, taking your sight while you desperately try to crawl out of the scene.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. That definitely wasn’t written on your bingo card for today.

"What the hell?!" you shout, diving behind a bookshelf just in time before a whole fucking shelf bumps onto the ground next to you.

"HEY BABY!" a too-familiar voice yells from somewhere in the smoke.

You peek out and see Dante standing atop the checkout desk, dual pistols in hand, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

"Miss me?"

You stare at him, speechless. No, this has to be a dream. This was supposed to be a trap, you set him off in order to finally find him guilty. And now this?

"HOW?!"

He jumps off the desk, unloading a round of bullets into the demon's face like it’s a casual Tuesday.

"You sent me the text! Good instincts, by the way - I was gonna ignore it, but then I figured, ‘Hey, if my girl’s around, probably gonna be some action.’ And look! Action!"

You dodge a flying claw and seriously consider strangling him with a library card cord.

"I SENT YOU A FAKE TEXT!" you shout over the sound of gunfire.

"THERE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE A REAL DEMON!"

"Aw," Dante replies, kicking a demon minion into a copy machine, "you’re so modest. You’re like a magnet for this stuff."

You have no time to argue. The giant scorpion is bearing down on you. You grab the nearest weapon, a hardcover dictionary about curse words in Spanish, and hurl it at its head. It bounces off harmlessly. Yeah, what a surprise, actually.

Dante whistles low, impressed.

"Good arm, babe. But here - lemme show you how it's done."

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, sword flashing, doing some ridiculously show-offy spin move that absolutely wasn’t necessary but looks cool as hell anyway.

The demon collapses with a final screech.

Silence falls over the destroyed library.

Books smolder, paper flutters in the air like sad confetti. Somewhere, a printer makes a pathetic beep before dying.

You sit down heavily on the floor, dazed.

Dante strolls over, all proud, offering you a hand up.

"No need to thank me. It’s kinda my thing."

You stare at him, mind still processing what just happened. Your mission failed – miserably, so say the least.  

"I literally TRIED to set you up."

"And look how well it worked!" he declares brightly.

"You lured out the bad guys! You're a natural at this demon-hunting stuff. I'm so proud."

You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him then kiss him.

Instead, you let him pull you to your feet, dusting off your scorched jacket.

"I'm never texting you again," you grumble.

"Sure you will," Dante coos, flashing that stupid, charming grin.

"You can't resist me."

You open your mouth to argue - and immediately get tackled to the ground as a second, smaller demon leaps from the wreckage.

You land with a painful thud, pinned beneath Dante’s weight as he shoots over your head, finishing off the last monster.

When the danger’s over, he stays there for an awkward beat too long, smirking down at you.

"See? Told ya. Always there to catch ya when you fall."

You groan, covering your face with your hands while absolutely hating how good his body weight feels on top of you, how surprisingly good that asshole of a man smells.

"I'm going to die of second-hand embarrassment."

"Nah," Dante retorts confidently, getting up and pulling you with him again.

"If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be something way cooler. Like a demon. Or a possessed espresso machine."

You squint at him.

 "You’re not gonna let this go, are you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulders like he owns the place, like the ablaze library isn’t his fault at all, and leads you toward the exit.

"Nope. You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

You sigh.

Maybe getting a new phone and a new name wouldn’t be the worst idea.

…Or just giving in.

[2kiran]

❛ I KNOW YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ❜ ➖ ch1-ch2.

series masterlist | ghostface x reader | nsfw

IN WHICH THERE is only one way to live: take his virginity.

content: 18+ DDDNE: DUBCON, male!ghostface, top male reader, canon timeline, mentions of heterosexuality (?), death threats, physical violence: ghostface injures reader, freeze response, coercion, virginity loss (ghostface’s first time), unprotected sex, creampie

›› previous | v.ao3 | red headers

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You pause momentarily. Titles which have no peculiar prestige in elements echo through your mind, and the back of your throat vibrates loudly with your humming. “I don’t know.”

“You have to have a favorite,” Ghostface answers in time, his palm soothing over his hardening cock hidden beneath thin layers. It was naught but of deviance, sick, and worthy to be indicted of indirect defilement, “What comes to mind?”

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you settle on one and mutter it out. You return the question, “What’s yours?”

“Guess.”

“Hm,” in the forsaken trenches residing within your brain, you are able to vacuously sense an anomalous presence stalking you in every corner. Though, you decide on not to dignify it, considering your brain may be simply playing tricks on you. “A Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“Is that the one with the guy who had knives for fingers?”

“Yeah, Freddy Krueger.”

In spite of the known fact that it was inherently basic knowledge that anyone could possess with disregard to tolerance of such movies, Ghostface almost groans out in pleasure, digging his palm against himself firmer. You had no idea how proud he was.

“Freddy!” He cheered breathlessly, his gaze seemingly fixated on the bulge that resided on the front of your pants, inevitably causing his own cock to throb and his hole to clamp around nothing with want, “That’s right. I like that movie. It was scary.”

Buzzing resonates slowly from your throat, born out of you humphing thoughtfully in agreement. “Only the first one.”

There was thrill in this conversation, in spite of the certitude that this person was no woman.

“So... you got a girlfriend?” Ghostface interrogated through a ragged breath, the puff hitching at the end as he patted his growing bulge lightly as though to reign in his aggravated nerves. Haunting murmurs of jealousy brewed inside of the storm that was currently ravaging his brain at his own question.

It shouldn’t bear any significance. He’ll kill your lover if you have one.

With great and exceeding self-restraint, you hinder yourself from laughing out loud in surprise. The corners of your lips threaten to curve upwards, “Why? You into me?”

Perverted, outrageous excitement courses through the killer’s body as he steels his knees against the dirt to halt himself from humping his palm. He needed you to be with him—even better, have you inside of him for as long as he needs. “Maybe. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“You never told me your name.” He stated, despite already owning the knowledge of your identity.

It’s only a few more minutes until he’ll get to the love of his life; until he’s granted the luxury of being freely able to caress you, to trap you to his body with his arms, to make you carve your initials into his flesh with that soon-to-be familiar weapon of his, and so many other endless possibilities.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Oh, fuck.

Warranted fear seizes your heart, your body abnormally stilling for a moment as your breathing halts. Driven by shock, you steer your gaze towards any and every window that may allow anyone to peer into your home. To your dreadfully cursed luck, darkness completely embraced the outside.

“What?”

“I wanna know who I’m talking to.” The anonymous voice residing on the other line confirmed.

“That’s not what you said.” You mutter, departing from the counter behind you to seek for a weapon.

“What’d you think I said?” He rises from his knelt spot, pacing towards an unfortunate entrance of your home. With the aid of his current location, he still has the ability to watch as you fumble with a knife in your trembling possession, your shoulders stiff with alertness. God, you’re beautiful.

“What? Hello?” He prompted, a hint of impatience seeping into his tone.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait, I want to go out with you.”

“No, I don’t—”

“Don’t hang up on me.” Ghostface demanded, a precipitous dawn of anger crossing his heart when you still doggedly ended the line.

You needed to set the phone down somewhere or at least dial the police. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You’re not alone.

You’re not alone.

The unceremonious deathly rattling of the communicator startled you, your knife almost brutally descending from your grasp. You draw a tattered inhale, sweat naturally developing on your forehead as you reluctantly answer.

“Yes?”

“I told you not to hang up on me.” You didn’t know it consciously, but Ghostface was getting closer and closer.

“What do you want?” You force out, your fingers tightening around the handle.

“To talk.”

“Go dial someone else. Listen—”

“No, you listen you little bitch. You hang up on me again, and I’ll gut you like a fish. Understand?” Ghostface’s voice rose in temper, aggressiveness clutching the edges of the menacing syllables that probed their way out of his mouth. He chuckled upon noticing your shaken silence, “Yeah...”

“Is this a joke?” You ask, frantic. Like a man in dire need—perhaps, you were—you comically rush around your house to guarantee that every lock was activated.

“More of a game, really. Can you handle that, baby?”

If the situation did not concern your life status, your heart would’ve pleasantly fluttered.

Eventually, you arrive to a halt at a corner in the hallway. You glance towards the windows in your kitchen, attempting to gauge any sign that could denounce where he was lurking.

“Can you see me?”

“You know I’m going to call the police.” You warningly interrupted, the life-stealing metal that you delicately cradled was taunting you that you wouldn’t be able to strike the criminal. You were certain of it.

“They’ll never make it in time. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.” He painstakingly emphasized the last word, to which your abdomen churns with regret.

“What do you want?”

“To see what your pretty insides look like. But if you agree to play a game, I’ll let you live.”

A game? Is that what all this was?

Your capacity to laugh was dutifully robbed from you.

“Here’s how we play. I ask a question, and if you get it right, you live.” Ghostface beamed, soundlessly climbing through the window you well-conveniently failed to inspect.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s an easy category: movie trivia.”

An instinct you did not know existed was nagging you.

He’s here.

“Let me give you a warm-up question. Name the killer in Halloween. You can do this.”

“Michael Myers.” You blurt out without thinking, a sharp exhale passing through your nose as you steeled yourself to not allow a hint of vulnerability to be brought into your voice.

“Yes! Very good. Now for the real question.”

“No—”

“But you’re doing so well. We can’t stop now.” Ghostface encouraged, his footsteps deliberately light against the floor.

“Same category. Name the killer in Friday the Thirteenth.”

“Jason!” You almost yell, both of your hands tirelessly seizing the communicator as if it was your dim lifeline, accompanied by the knife you can’t let go of in fear that he will come to terrorize you any moment.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the wrong answer!”

What?

No.

Please no.

“No, it’s not. It was Jason.” You outwardly panic, the beat of your steady heart amplifying. Adrenaline crashes into you like a bullet, practically rendering you free from all movements.

“Afraid not. No way. You should’ve known that Jason’s mother was the original killer.” Ghostface lightly scolded, the head of his cock babbling out small bursts of pre-cum in response to your perceptible horror.

“Lucky for you, there’s a bonus question. What door am I at? Go on, it’s your call.”

He’s here.

Before you’re able to respond in any form, a hasty crash of intricate glass scattering across the ground resounded through the halls. You tense automatically, your shoulders wincing when you see a glimpse of black cloth in one of your doorways. Involuntarily, you lose your grip on the phone and abandon it once it hits the floor with a dull echo. You don’t have the time to spare, so you dash up the stairs.

There’s only about four or five steps left until you reach the top of the staircase when ominous and foreign fingers curl around your ankle, yanking you back down.

“Fuck—” you grunt, twisting around and kicking against the grasp with the lack of precaution.

To great luck, your foot collides with the chest of a figure decked out in long, black, lurex robe with tattered edges at the bottom. It was graced with a metallic-like sheen, the fabric catching in the low lighting. Then, you glance to see the intruder’s face, only to be confronted by an eerie white mask that sustains a permanent and exaggerated horrendous expression that’s guaranteed to be engraved into your memory.

You hear him yelp from the force, followed by the sight of him stumbling. One of his dark boots skidded against the edge of the tread of the step, and it eventually resulted in his fall.

Seizing this opportunity, you steadily—if you can even call it that with how you almost trip over yourself several times—run up to the second floor.

The stranger rapidly shook his head, regaining his consciousness in spite of the near-television static consuming the foremost area of his racked brain. He shoves himself upward a tad too quickly for it to be good for him, and he trails after you like a man on a vengeance-fed rampage.

You’re able to take only a couple of steps inside of your bedroom before Ghostface tackles you on the ground, one hand of his weighing down on your chest while the other holds his knife—your own clattering someplace else—to your vulnerable throat. He straddled your lap, the sides of his knees digging against the outer areas of your thighs. The scent of death awakened; the infamous weapon was now a hair’s breadth away from prickling your skin.

You don’t think you can breathe.

Your knee nudges up, attempting to buck him off of you, to no avail. He assertively settles his weight down on top of you, angling the flat of the metal to your jaw with the sharpened part just barely managing to graze your chin. Your breathing locks in your throat, and you stiffen up to prevent erroneously giving yourself a fresh cut.

“You lose.”

It was nothing short of an exuberant declaration of your defeat. You didn’t need a view of his face to be aware that he was grinning unabashedly.

“There we go, stop struggling. If you wanna live, you have to listen to me.”

At that, you are overcome with the need to retain your life, and you reluctantly exorcise all means of vigor your body previously contained. You lay there, demeaningly underneath him, with the active withholding of delivering a brute hit to his obscured face. Your hands ball into tight fists and the intruder immediately takes notice. But it didn’t matter much to him. He knows you’ve given in.

A giggle, a demoralizing sound that is seemingly altered by what you guess is a voice modulator of some sorts, reverberates from his chest and up through the elongated, wide-open mouth that abominably expands the jaw. The eyes of the mask were hollow and dark; yet, nevertheless, they were piercing your form enough to make you slightly squirm.

Ghostface’s reaction is immaculately swift. He clenches his thighs around yours to force you to still, and that’s when you feel it.

Oh.

Oh.

He was hard.

His cock pressed against your thigh, the sensation remarkably solid and warm through the decently wispy material of his costume. He sees your gaze darting towards his groin, and he doesn’t know how to outwardly react, but he knows you’re staring. The hand that’s on your chest reaches up to take hold of your chin, tilting your head towards his own and away from the neglected ache in between his legs. Gloves—black gloves that are terrifyingly smooth against your skin conceal his hands, you silently note. He lifts the knife away from your body, but he did not discard it next to your forgotten knife. He was granting you some respite.

“I think you know what I want now.” Ghostface pinpointed, experimentally jutting his hips forwards and backwards once. It was uncoordinated, providing minimum pleasure for him but none at all for you. The realization that your hands were still unbounded has you hooking your hands on his waist, to which he let out a hoarse moan in delight.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Hearing your question gifts him the audacity to groan in exasperation. He twirls the weapon around in his hand, idly swinging it with no true objective. “Don’t be stupid. What do you think I’m talking about?”

Before the urge completely registers in your brain, your right hand deviates from his side and flings upwards to connect with his jaw. He jolts, faltering on top of you as his palm gripping the weapon falls onto the floor to maintain his balance. It was an opening, and once more, you attempt to turn your positions around but he’s suddenly locking his legs around you. He slaps you hard across the face, averting you from retaliating in time, and uses his index finger, middle finger, and thumb to slightly compress your cheeks together.

Without a warning, he slashes a line with the steel blade over your cheek. You gasp, the dart of pain firing through the entirety of your face along with the stinging hit given to you just moments prior. The cut was relevantly shallow, light, and not at all intended to scar, but it still mildly hurts you. Beads of blood begin to dot along the cut and slide down your cheek. The scent was distinctly metallic, hitting you in the nose in a way that makes you want to hurl.

“Do that again, and I’ll fucking kill you! Now, stay still and keep that pretty mouth shut.” Ghostface reprimands as he repositions himself, the volatile duality of his behavior startling you into obeying his whims. You deliberately allow your hand to slip off of him, and he doesn’t seem to take any offense. Again, he rolls his clothed hard cock against your still-soft groin, albeit a tad too gentle for either of your liking.

“Fuck… you feel good. Real good,” He praises under his breath, slowly grinding against you. Using his thumb, he swipes the trickle of blood up, cautious as to not inadvertently brush the wound. He raises that hand and tucks it underneath his mask, grunting in appreciation as his tongue—not that you can see it, but it’s a prediction—flicks out to lick the vital fluid that belongs to you, and he mumbles, “Taste good too.”

In that moment, you were suspended in an unyielding trance, unable to respond or move from mere shock. What the hell was going on?

Ghostface sighs, long and drawn-out and agitated. For apparently good measure and to liberate you from your ephemeral hypnosis, he strikes your cheek a second time. It was delivered with a lower level of physical power but a higher level of intention to snap you out of whatever train of thoughts are booming through your head. It works as expected, your head briefly jerking to the side then back to him.

“I want you to fuck me,” he abruptly blurts out.

You sputter, heat skulking to your bloodied face and you half-expect to be hit again for the never-ending length of your stupidity, “What?”

“If you wanna live tonight, baby, you’re gonna fuck me. Sounds good?” Ghostface rephrases for your sake, tilting his head off to the side as if he was scrutinizing you.

“Why do I—”

KRNKKKK!

He stabs the knife into the floor right beside your head, the weapon scraping as it splinters the floor slightly. You flinch, instinctively trying to firmly separate yourself and the killing tool, and he considers that as a cue to intensely ground his groin against yours to hoist your attention to him and him only.

“Do you wanna live or not?”

“I—”

Your nth mistake.

You’re too slow in telling him what he desperately needs to hear. Driven by furiosity, he smacks your injured cheek, hard, your blood splattering all over his now crimson-stained glove—one that he’s neither throwing away nor throwing into the washer—and you loudly grunt out a pained curse.

He coils that same hand around your exposed neck. Not to strangle you. At the very least, not yet.

With his unoccupied hand, he reaches down to loosen the strings sticking out of your waistband. You want to argue, you should argue, but you realize that you’ll only grant an audience with your end if you dare voice out your disapproval.

“Take me to your bed.” Ghostface demanded, his fingers ghosting over your cock prior to grasping his knife once more. You were growing hard under his attention, inevitably. Your hands curl around his powerful thighs, the flesh flexing with anticipation as you sit up. Whether or not you were able to withstand such weight underneath your palms, it didn’t matter. You are obligated to hoist him.

He dutifully slings his arms around your neck, his legs wrapping around your waist to support himself upright. You carry him to your bed (just as he had ordered like you were some sort of rabid animal to be tamed) and drop him onto the mattress. The furniture creaks as Ghostface’s back connects with it, bowing a little in protest to an unwanted stranger. He kicks his knees up, pushing himself backwards for his boots to dig onto the sheets.

His hands reach down to take the bottom of his costume and yank it upwards, the material pooling around his middle as his lower half is exposed to your supposed-to-be uninterested gaze. His arousal prominently strained against his boxers, a damp spot residing where the head of his cock was. You had expected an unsightly creature to unveil themselves to you. Alas, his skin, of what you were permitted to view, was normal. Human. Soft, even.

He allows his weapon to fall next to him, deliberately within his reach in case he finds use for it.

“Well?” He prompts, hooking his thumbs beneath the band of his boxers and pulling them down until they are all the way around his ankles. He languidly hangs it around one of them, before booting it off of him. His palms smooth under his knees, lifting his legs up to exhibit his rim for you.

Shit.

There was slickness glossed over and inside Ghostface’s hole, which was seemingly stretched out. Putting it to a test, and you weren’t even aware that you found yourself allured by the sight that you should’ve felt repulsed towards, you rub the pad of your index finger around his entrance to gather bits of the lube and push it into him. No resistance, if you ignore how he squeezes down onto your digit with a strangled moan.

“Yes, fuck,” he gasped out through a distorted rasp of his voice changer, his walls tense and amazingly more welcoming than any other used cunt. “W-Worked myself open just for you and your cock. Mmn, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Waiting? He’s been waiting?

You feel absolutely sick. For weeks, possibly for months, he has been stalking you without end.

And you’re the one who has to pay the price for his attention.

October 31st, 2:01 A.M.

Soon enough, your hips are snug against the backs of his thighs while your wet cock traitorously throbs inside of him.

Ghostface forced you into his untouched body without any remorse; his being born from sin ushering you to where you are now. You hold the advantage over him, with him being in a more vulnerable position, but you are physically and mentally departed from every means of control. He threw his legs over your shoulders, straining himself for the reward of pleasure that he’s selfishly making you give him. He beckons you to lean over him, and you follow.

“That’s a good boy.” He praises, his head tipping back against the sheets.

The sensation by itself is strange. You pilot your hips backwards until half of your girth is being clung onto by his too-tight rim, before you snap into him once more. That wrecks out an appreciative moan from him, his thighs twitching against your upper half. Your length glistens with the lube he had graciously fingered into himself earlier, causing the strokes to be much smoother.

The head of your cock manages to rub against his prostate, his reaction immediate. “Fuuuc—ah!” Ghostface babbles, the small of his back arching off of the bed as his hole can’t help but clench down tight around you. Granted, it has you buck into him, the veins that run across your length brushing against sweet spots that have his boots digging against your back.

You’re compelled to leisurely roll your hips, your dick slipping further inside of his spasming hole. You grind into him, ensuring that just the right amount of attention is driven into the certain bundle of nerves that has his pretty hole trembling around you. He whimpers, tears welling up in his eyes because, fuck, you’re too handsome and your cock is too thick for his brain to comprehend. The crease that’s formed in between your eyebrows due to them knitting together makes him want to rip off his mask and kiss you.

But that’ll wait for another time.

Once he loosens around you, becoming docile underneath the presence of your body, you resume to your previous pace. The unattended cut across your cheek stings as your teeth grit together, a drying stream of crimson trudging down to your jaw. He whines, his hand lifting to wipe that trail off of you and rocks forward to meet your thrust. “Best f—hngh— f-fucking cock I’m ever going to have,” Ghostface mumbles under a tight breath, his own length pulsing with the need of release against his flexing abdomen.

“You’re sick,” you grunt, pausing your movements to grab the base of your length and pull out. His lips part to retort, but you slide back into him with an abrupt slam.

“I—fuck!” He curses, a noise torn in between a pathetic moan and a scream. Ghostface laughs, his chest rumbling upwards as he uncontrollably contracts around you, “We are both sick. You’re gonna cum inside of me sooner or later, and you won’t be telling a goddamn soul about what happened between us, ‘less you wanna—”

You repeat the previous motion; your leaky tip slamming against his sensitive spot harder than before.

“—hnnngh—! Shit—” Ghostface gasps, interrupting himself as his legs slide off of your shoulders as they helplessly spread apart. He looked almost pretty like that, his cute rim squeezing onto every inch of your throbbing cock to coax out your own release. Your skin and hand was wet with him, the lubricant combined with your pre-cum was gushing out of his entrance and conveniently slicking you up.

He felt so utterly full.

Killing you will be a damn waste, and he couldn’t possibly get rid of his Sweetheart now.

His hands rush downwards, his fingers gathering the gentle sheets for leverage. He struggles, squirms, when he senses a rapid euphorical coil bundling within his lower abdomen. He whimpers, the vocal modulator barely managing to modify the noise.

“S’this okay?” You pant out the words sarcastically next to his ear, slowing your thrusts into harsher yet deeper ones. Ones that shove his body further up your bed and nearly bang the top of his head against the wall.

“Y—Yes!” He cried out, his voice gravelly and hoarse and raw. Squelching sounds came from the apex between his legs, from where your body was intertwining with his, and he zones into that sensation of you filling him up over and over and over again until his thighs flail and lock around your waist.

Suddenly, his body jerks once, before cum dribbles from his slit. He shudders all over, trembling breathlessly as he rides out his first high by rolling his hips just in time for the head of your cock to breach him. He clamps down there, purposely, to trigger your climax — just as he wanted.

It’s wet and warm. Ghostface can feel your cock twitching against his walls, and he has to physically prevent himself from forcing you to fuck into him again. He unwraps his legs, exhaustedly slumping against the bed. You pull out of him, rather too quickly to go on unnoticed, and practically collapse next to him.

He feels boneless, with your cum trickling out of his stretched hole.

You might’ve just successfully saved your life and a few others.

[araybiaaa]

❝ temptation.❞  ‎ elias ‘stack’ moore x black!fem oc

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… modern!au, tension, flirting, cunnilingus (cause every man in this movie is a muncher!) black!fem oc, explicit sexual content.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… where a good girl falls into temptation after she meets elias ‘stack’ moore.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… soooo i wanted to try something different and do a modern!au with stack. (smoke’s still my favorite twin. the real girlies get it!) but i wanted to challenge myself a bit here.. this idea honestly came out of nowhere. i opened a03 and just started typing and somewhere down the line it became a one shot with 5k+ words?? 😭 also just wanted to say tysm for all of the love on my other fics. smoke and annie are near and dear to my heart and i’m glad you guys enjoyed my interpretations/writings for them. just a fair warning, the girl in this is very unserious but who wouldn’t be if you saw a vampire that looked like mbj! requests are open so send in something if you’d like — just keep in mind of my rules. anyway. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

“he’s dangerous. if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him.” their words seemed portent at first; a precautionary warning that had her wary of him. she didn’t know him but she’s heard enough stories about him to know that he was feared by everyone. his reputation was something akin of their town’s own boogeyman or freddy kreuger — he was dangerous, menacing and someone to be fearful of.

cleo hadn’t been in town long enough to know if his reputation superseded him or if the rumor’s held some weight of validity in them but her curiosity was piqued to meet the guy that had people hurriedly locking their doors when the sun went down and removing the welcome mats off of their front porches.

at first, she wondered if everyone in town had collectively decided to pull a prank on her as some sort of initiation or simply for their own amusement. because to her elias moore seemed more like a ghost than a vampire. she lurked outside after hours, even against their warnings — completely foolish and naive, but she never saw him around.

she doesn’t know why she wants to see him so bad, maybe it’s because everyone else has and she feels strangely left out. or maybe it’s because she needs to see for herself if there was a world where mythical creatures existed outside of the cheesy television shows she used to watch and the books that she read. but much to her dismayed defeat, time continued on with her being the only one who had yet to meet the feared elias moore.

“what does he look like?” she asked, feigning innocence behind her curiosity that her best friend, naomi easily sees through and narrows a pointed glare at her. “what? i just want to know in case i see him around somewhere!” she murmurs with a halfhearted shrug. it didn’t seem like an actual possibility with how she hadn’t so far, but she didn’t want naomi to know that she was willingly seeking him out.

naomi sighs, pursing her lips as she tapped her manicured fingers against her thigh. after a moment’s contemplation, she reveals: “i’ve only seen him around a few times. he doesn’t look like any of those sick looking vampire that you see on tv. he’s actually…fine.” at this, cleo’s eyebrows raise in amusement at her friend’s description. “he has this look about him that makes you weak in the knees whenever he smiles at you. it’s effortlessly sexy and his eyes — just don’t look in them too long cause you’re gonna find yourself wanting him to turn you into a vampire too just so you can spend the rest of eternity with him. i’m only telling you this because you asked, but don’t go around asking anyone else about him. you don’t want your daddy finding out about it.”

cleo nodded in agreement, but still found her mind wandering about him. she knows that naomi’s right, her overly religious father would have an aneurysm if he’d found out that she was asking questions about the town’s social pariah. but that didn’t stop her from visualizing him through naomi’s description.

she’s only ever heard of naomi speaking negatively about elias so for her to refer to him as fine despite her disliking of him had intrigued cleo. “yeah, you’re right. i was just curious but now i know.”

naomi’s pointed glare deepens, like she doesn’t fully believe cleo. “girl…stay away from him for your own good. trust me. i know another girl who was curious about him just like you are and she got turned.” cleo wonders if she’s just saying that to scare her away, but surprisingly it doesn’t.

“i hear you,” naomi hums in acknowledgment but thankfully doesn’t reprimand her any further about her curiosity.

…

sometimes cleo makes smart decisions.

when it came to school and her grades, everything was always calculated in her mind for her to choose the best possible outcome. she was annoying obsessive like that — always planning ahead, analyzing and assessing even the most mundane things that infiltrated her life. but other times, on seldom occasions, she makes not-so-smart decisions; one’s that has her acting impulsively and deviating from her normally pristine behavior.

she was supposed to be going back to her dorm room to get ready for a party that she was planning on going to with naomi. it was twelve o’clock and she had just finished an exasperating nine hour bartending shift with annoying alcoholics flirting with her and their heady, glossed over eyes staring at her ass in the tight fitted jeans that she was wearing.

her dad was less than pleased about her place of employment, but he knew that she needed extra money to pay for her clothes, shoes, hair and other miscellaneous items so he refrained from making any comments anytime she she complained about a customer or the minimal pay that she was getting.

cleo was closing the bar; wiping down the sticky counters, recounting the money in the register and overturning the chairs when she looks up and sees him. he’s standing across the street but even with the distance set between them she can feel the smolder of his gaze as he looked at her. cleo stands there for a brief moment just staring back at him until she mustered enough courage to make her way to the front door.

the overhead bell rings in a soft bellow as she pushes the door open. the humidity of the mississippi air sticks against her skin as soon as she steps outside. but even with its scorching temperatures, elias’ stare pierces deeper and has her skin burning. when she steps outside, she sees him making his way towards her — his gait was stealth and calculated.

she feels goosebumps prickle along her skin, air catches in her lungs and warmth curls around her neck as he sauntered closer. the first thing that she noticed was that although naomi had been right in her description of him, she had greatly undermined it. he wasn’t just fine; he was handsome and she could already feel her knees buckling weakly beneath her just at the sight of him. the second thing she notices is his eyes and the phosphorescent glow of red in his pupils. when he finally reaches her, he stands athwart from her and slowly drags his eyes over her body. his eyes find hers again and for a moment she wonders if she could hear the hastened beating of her heart.

“it’s kinda late for you to be out here ain’t it?” he posits and the deepened drawl of his southern accent somehow makes him more attractive.

cleo swallows a shaky breath, nodding. “i’m closing up the bar. we just closed about ten minutes ago,”

he raises his brows, trailing his eyes somewhere offside. “and they just left you to do it by yourself? don’t they know it’s dangerous people out here? vampires walkin’ about like they’re humans.” he says with sarcasm lilting in his voice and clicks his tongue against his teeth with a reprimanding tsk that follows.

cleo juts her chin outwardly. “i’m more than capable of handling myself.” she rebuttals, her hand perched on her hip as she looked at him.

his eyes find hers again and he smirks impishly, nodding his head. “i’m sure.” he says; and it’s something hidden in the way that he says it that has her cheeks warming again. a moment passes between them as he stares at her with an intrigued expression worn on his face. “you ain’t scared of me,” it’s more of a statement than a question, though she knows it’s intended to be the latter.

he sounds and looks surprised by this, that he’d finally encountered someone that didn’t run away when they saw him. “am i supposed to be?” she was more attracted to him than anything, unable to stop looking at his lips and his bared fangs that peeked out from his mouth.

he shrugs, “everyone else is.”

“well i’m not everyone else,” at that he doesn’t respond, only smirks at her again making the butterflies she feels in her stomach somersault deeper. cleo bites her lip as she looks over her shoulder towards the bar. ‘don’t ever invite him in anywhere, that’s how he gets you.’ she ignores her father’s words, pushing them to the back of her mind. “you wanna come in?”

he raises another brow, “you want me to come inside?” this time it’s her that shrugs and he only gives her a brief dubious look of contemplation before he’s following her inside of the bar at her open invitation. she could feel his eyes honed in on her ass and unlike with the drunken middle aged men from before, she isn’t repulsed at the realization.

“you know, at first i thought people were lying about who you are. it seemed like everyone knew what you looked like except for me.” she says, folding her arms against her chest and watching his eyes lower to her perked breast. she bites on her lip, intrigued.

“you were lookin’ for me?”

she nods briefly, “i wanted to know what you looked like.”

he walks towards her until he’s standing directly in front of her; way closer than he was when they were standing outside and it catches her slightly off guard. “well now that you have…whatchu think?” the remark is undeniably coquettish — the soft murmur of it accompanied by the lascivious look that he’s giving her has her pinned beneath his gaze.

“i think you’re not as scary as people make you out to be,” she responds; avoiding the answer that she knows he was truly searching for. but he settles for this one too, indulging in her retreat.

“you think you can make that assumption from a five minute conversation? what if i am like everyone says?” the air between them shifts into this palpable tension; hot and undeniable. he takes a few more steps forward until he’s hovering his heightened figure over her. she cranes her neck to look up at him, “i could bite you right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ about it”

“if you wanted to you would’ve done it outside,” she rebuttals, seeing the twitch of his curled upper lip.

“maybe i like playin’ with my food before i eat it.” and the innuendo behind his words has her breath hitching.

her skin pricks with goosebumps again at his teasing words. elias takes immediate notice of it; his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply with his heightened senses. and it takes a moment for her to realize that he must smell something radiating off of her body — arousal? excitement? — because he’s chuckling and licking his lips as he reached his hand out and brushed it over her hip. she shivers, not out of fear but of arousal. “and you sure as hell look and smell good enough to eat.”

cleo’s mouth gapes the only audible sound that comes out is a soft gasp. it’s the sound of her phone ringing that suddenly clefts through the tension hanging in the air. she jumps, startled, looking at elias whose eyes narrow at her phone like he’s inwardly cursing it for its intrusion. she reluctantly moves out of his grasp and walks over to pick up her phone that was sat at the edge of the counter.

picking up the phone she sees that it’s a text from naomi asking where she’s at. she’d gotten so distracted with elias that she forgot that she was supposed to meet naomi at their dorm room half an hour ago. she types a quick message in response, telling her that closing up took longer than expected and that she should go ahead to the party without her and that she would just meet her there instead.

she looks up from her phone at the same time elias is already walking out of the door, the sound of the bell ringing announces his departure as cleo stands there with her mind replaying their interaction.

…

a week passes before she sees him again. he’s standing outside of the door; staring, watching, waiting. she walks towards the entrance and holds the door open, beckoning him forward. “come in,” he walks inside as she closes the door behind him.

“you weren’t here the other night.” he says, catching her slightly by surprise. had he been looking for her this time instead of the other way around?

“oh, yeah. i was off. i don’t work on tuesdays and thursdays,” she explains watching as he nodded before looking away with a sheepish expression. after their last encounter, she spent the entire week thinking about him — how he looked at her, how his hand felt against her bare skin. cleo didn’t understand how she developed such a quick attraction for him, especially when she didn’t even give human boys any time of the day, but something about him was different.

naomi was right, all it took was one look from him and cleo found herself a fallen victim to his charm. “why aren’t you scared of me?”

she’s taken aback again, even more so than the first time. “why do you want me to be?” she challenges, noticing the pull of his jaw as he clenches it shut.

“your daddy’s a preacher ain’t he?” she furrows her brow, curious to know how he’d figured that out without her telling him. “how you think he’d react if he knew you were stayin’ behind after work to talk to me?”

ah, so that’s what this is about.

“well aside from me being grown and fully capable of making my own decisions, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” and she would definitely keep this secret from him for his sake and hers. “elias—”

“stack.” he interrupts to correct her.

“elias,” she says, unmoored by his correction. he gives her a look but listens as she continued. “i’m not talking to you because i’m trying to prove something to my dad or anyone else here.”

“then why are you?”

“because i want to.” she exasperates, frowning slightly. “why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“because you don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” elias retorts through a forewarning tone that sounded all too familiar of her family and friends who initially warned her away from him. he was right, aside from the fictionalized information that she got through old cw shows she used to frequently watch, she didn’t understand the depth and complications that came along with being a vampire. but her interest in elias made her want to know more — she wanted the truth and all its ugliness.

“then show me.”

…

elias stack moore had a tarnished reputation way before he got bit and transformed into a vampire. albeit he was the more level headed of the two, the smoke-stack twins were well known for their violent behavior and short fused tempers. their involvement with the notorious al capone and then stack becoming involved in a near ritualistic slaughter hadn’t done anything to ease anyone’s perception of him. his reputation expanded over the near century with people reciting tales of his life; often times dramatizing it completely.

but regardless of the half-truths or stack’s solemn search for penance — he still remained feared to the point where people would refrain from staying outside at night too long just to avoid him. he kept mostly to himself, only indulging in his sexual needs with a few other vampires that lived amongst the town. if he did leave his house, he made sure it was brief just to avoid any inadvertent run in’s.

he knew he was feared and had stories told about him that would give kids nightmares. but she was surprisingly the only one that didn’t tremble in fear when she saw him or tightly clutch her cross necklace and recite scripture from the bible in hopes it would protect them and keep him away like everyone else did. instead of running she gravitated towards him; accepting and intrigued by him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

he was wary at first of getting close to her.

she had a reputation as the preacher’s sweet and innocent daughter. he could only imagine the outcry that would erupt if anyone were to find out that she had been talking to him. but cleo insisted that she didn’t care and expressed interest in wanting to see/know him — all of him. so he invited her to his house.

she came over at work — still dressed in those tight jeans and that cropped shirt that accentuated her lithe physique — all wide eyed and innocent and fucking gorgeous.

as soon as she stepped over the threshold and inside, he felt something shift in the air as he realized that she was the first girl he’d ever invited into his house. he watches her as she looks around spectatingly, crouching over a bit with her hands on her knees to look at the display of photos that he had. “your brother?” she asks rhetorically as she looked at the candid black-and-white photograph that he had of him and smoke taken years back during the time of their youth.

stack nods tersely, pursing his lips in a moue.

and he’s grateful that she notices his reluctance and doesn’t prod any further because even though it’s been over a century since his brother’s death, it was still hurt carrying him around in his memories.

it’s stack who segues the conversation, now turning the spotlight on her. “you said you wanted me to show you, so what do you wanna know?”

cleo bites her lip in thought. stack’s mind is briefly distracted with how sexy she looks that he doesn’t initially hear her question until she asks it again.

“it took me a while to learn how to do it. i taught myself most of what i know, the guy who turned my ex that turned me didn’t teach me much. but it’s the first thing i taught myself.”

she nods, biting on her lip again as she lowered her eyes in a shy chagrin. “so that night at the bar…when you sniffed me what did you smell?”

“you really wanna know?” she looks up, almost contemplative, but nods. “lust. your hormones were all over the place.” her expression’s caught somewhere between mortification and a grimace. “my hearin’ is heightened too…i can hear your heart beatin’ fast as hell. you nervous?”

at her nod, he posits. “cause of me? why do i make you nervous?” he takes a preemptive step towards her, closing the distance between them. he hears her pulse quicken. smells the saltiness of sweat underneath the floral saccharine of her perfume.

she doesn’t respond, only looks at him underneath her lashes. “what else do want me to show you, cleo?” her breath hitches, eyes flit from his lips back up to his eyes in a quick maneuver. her heart beats louder and the smell of her arousal is so thick that he can almost taste it on his tongue. he inhales her scent; feeling his own arousal mix with hers.

he sees her throat stretch as she swallows.

…

it’s almost feral how he bares an arm around her waist and tugged her body closer to his. she gasps a bit at his onslaught — startled by the abruptness of his movements, but she’s immediately relaxing into his embrace the moment he brushes his mouth against hers. he kisses her with a ravenous vigor, sliding his tongue over the cupping of her lower lip as a terse plea for entry. she whimpers before she succumbs to his prowess, slacking her jaw wider as he intertwined their tongues.

his kisses are bruising and greedy to the point where he steals all the air that was in her lungs. it’s a slip of tongues and a crash of teeth messily colliding, through guttural groans and breathy whimpers. stack’s arms tighten their hold around her before lowering to her ass. he squeezes her through her jeans before giving it a firm smack; smirking at the way it ricocheted. he gives it another hard squeeze as his mouth nipped at the exposed flesh of her neck. “tell me what you want,” he rasps; gruff and throaty, his breath hot against her skin.

his lips pucker as he nipped at her skin; sucking deep, purple love-bites all over. (and it feels so good that she doesn’t even care that she’ll have to cover up the evidence of his markings with makeup to hide from her father and naomi.) she grips the back of his head, holding him against her as she fluttered her lashes and indulged in the pleasure.

“this,” she whispered, voice shaky, body trembling with an intense want. he groans against her neck; alternating between nipping and sucking. and he gets too into it because she hears a low sound that mimics a growl and feels the sharpness of his fangs grazing her clavicle. she gasps, taken back and he’s immediately recoiling — looking up at her with his swollen lips and lidded eyes.

“fuck. i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—sometimes when i get too excited it happens. but i wasn’t trying to…” he’s panicking, careening apologies to her. but she’s sliding her mouth over his and kissing him deeply with fervor.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, still pecking at his lips.

stack furrows his brow, “yeah?”

“just don’t bite too hard.”

he nods, lightly grazing his teeth into the softness of her flesh. he nibbles at her neck with the tip of his bared fangs biting deliciously into her skin. the pain is sharp but still pleasurable enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head. his hands make their way to the front of her body, sliding over her abdomen and hovering at the waistband of her jeans. she breathes softly through her parted lips, emanating a whimper when he bites into her lower lip. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, reaching his hands between the crux of her thighs and sliding his thumb over her slit — passing the pleasure over the seam of her jeans.

her underwear suddenly becomes sticky with her arousal and knowing that he could smell it on her was sending her over the edge. she feels this incessant pleasure building; coiling in her stomach and spreading through the heat of the place where she desired him the most. “can i taste you?” at her consenting nod, he maneuvers them towards the couch and eases her down onto the cushion.

he pries their wet lips apart with a ‘smack’, a string of saliva draws at their disconnection. she holds the smother head of his gaze, watching as he lowers to his knees. “lift your hips up for me,” he murmurs, already working at the buttons and zippers of her pants that loosen around her hips.

she concedes, arching her hips off of the couch just enough so that stack’s hands are able to tug the tight fitted fabric over her hips and down her thighs. “look at you,” he says; marveling at the sight of her arousal. the dark spot is visible against her pink underwear — soddening through the fabric. “already so wet and ready for me.” he kisses the inside of her thighs, nudging the bridge of his nose against her cunt.

she shivers through a moan, it’s just the barest of contact but she’s hypersensitive to his touch. his deft fingers pull at her ruined underwear, sliding them down her legs and absentmindedly throwing them aside so that she’s sat completely bare in front of him.

her cheeks warm at her vulnerability.

stack’s hand brushes against her calf as he gripped her leg and hefted it easily over his left shoulder. his eyes hone in on her cunt as she spreads open; staring in awe at the slick that’s gathered between her folds. he grabs at her other leg, barring it around his right shoulder until he’s got a perfect position of her cunt displayed in front of him.

cleo arches her hips slightly, holding herself upright as she rests the palms of her hand against the cushions. her heartbeat quickens at the desire that grows, palpable and thick in its emerging, sending another jolting throb directly into her cunt. she could feel the wisps of his breath as he leaned in. he brushes a teasing kiss against her thigh, humming softly at the way she shivers in response.

he nudged himself closer towards her cunt; pressing soft kisses against her skin in passing before he finally reaches the place where he could smell the the evidence of her want. he presses a kiss against it and she shudders, feeling the tension roll down her spine and curl into her toes. she doesn’t even have a moment to gather her bearings, because then he’s flattening his tongue and licking her up from the back of her perineum to her clitoris. “oh—fuck. s-stack,” she bellows a soft cry of pleasure, her hands grip into the couch to seek purchase.

and when he reaches the over sensitive bud, he puckers his swollen lips and sucks her into his mouth; skillfully using his tongue to massage her clit. she feels the texture of his tongue stimulating her clit, sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure burning through the crevices of her body. her breath catches in her throat and she’s shivering so hard that stack has to pull his mouth away to remind her to breathe.

she nods numbly, blinking through the fogginess of her vision. she parts her lips and exhaled shakily; attempting to lull her breathing. “grind your hips against my face,” she whimpers, reaching a hand up to hold the back of his neck to anchor herself as she slowly rolled her hips against his face.

“ohmygo—” the added pressure of his nose and tongue assaulting her clit has her dizzy. his hands grip her hips, fingers dig into the meat of her thighs holding her against him.

he makes his way up her vulva; pausing right before he reached her clit and increased the pressure so that the base of his tongue was forced slightly under her clit. he slows his movements, unrelentingly in his ravenous feat as he holds the pressure there. she grinds against him again, shaky, still trembling through her movements as she buried his face deeper into her cunt.

she could hear the lewd stickiness of her slick as he licked up her pussy; could see it glistening over his face — a messy mixture of her arousal and his saliva dripping down his chin. she’s already shaking towards her release but then he grazes his fangs softly against her clit and she’s suddenly bellowing out cries of pleasure as she cums.

she pulsates around his tongue, the tension tugs in her lower belly. he slides his thumb through her slickness, watching as she haphazardly falls backwards against the couch cowering away from the overstimulation. stack pulls away, lapping his tongue around his mouth as he licked up the remnants of her slick. “you okay?” he asked through a rasped breath, watching as she laid there in a dazed stupor.

she nods, just barely, feeling the heaviness of her breathing begin to lull. cleo never thought that someone as smart as her would be drawn into the temptation from a vampire, but here she was — with her cunt still throbbing around nothing, legs and body completely spent, eyes looking at his face that’s covered in her juices, and it entices her.

and it’s then that she realizes that she was totally and completely fucked. he’d warned her that she didn’t know what she would be getting herself into if she became involved with him but with the way he ate her pussy out so good and had her wanting more, cleo realized that she was willing to test the boundaries of her restraint.

…

cleo didn’t like lying, she’s always prided herself about being a truthful person regardless of the repercussions that could follow. she didn’t like people lying to her so in return, she treated everyone with the same decency of respect and remained truthful about everything. it’s not until she starts dating stack that lying easily becomes integrated into her life.

she goes to church with her father every sunday, sits in the front pew and listens as he recites sermons and scriptures about demons and evils that plagued the world. it guilted her knowing that he was wistfully unaware of the fact that she was bedding with someone he referred to as one of the demons that walked amongst them, but the way he made her feel was better than anything she’s ever experienced before.

so she keeps the secret buried deeply, and listens halfheartedly at his preachings as she finds her mind wandering on stack again. it’s easier to hide behind her fib with her father, but naomi’s naturally pestering curiosity always gets the better of her and a simple response of “i already have something planned.” does not offer enough of a rational explanation for her.

“you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks…” she acknowledges with a skeptical brow and pursed lips. she narrows her gaze in on cleo who desperately hopes that she doesn’t look too hard enough to see the hickies stack sucked on her shoulder and breast the other night. “you’re here during the day, but always sneak out to go somewhere at night like you’re meeting someone,” she accents, her perception’s dangerously close to discovering cleo’s secret.

“i’m not.” the lie falls disbelieving to both of their ears. naomi gives her a narrowed look, tilting her head. she bites on her lip in contemplation, sighing softly as she concedes. “okay! but you can’t say anything to anyone especially not my dad.”

naomi gives her a bemused look but nods.

“i might be seeing someone,” cleo murmurs, averting her eyes to naomi to see her eyebrows raise. “i am seeing someone. but don’t ask who! because i’m not going to tell you who it is. i’m only telling you this because i know you wouldn’t stop hounding me if i didn’t.”

naomi stands there quiet, considering her words. “is he married?”

“what!?” cleo beseeches, frowning at her friend’s absurd accusation. “girl, no! i am not a fucking homewrecker!”

“hey, it’s a fair assumption!” naomi rebuttals, raising her hands in the air at her defense. “you’re being sneaky and sleeping over at his place at night… it made me think that you only go over there because that’s the only time that you’re allowed to.”

“no. i’m not fucking a married man.” cleo states. she continued to stuff her clothes in her overnight bag, avid to get to stack’s place. she could feel naomi’s he eyes still piercing through her, curiosity sits on her tongue wanting to inquire further about the guy’s identity. but she thankfully relents, only giving cleo a hum of acknowledgment when she grabs her bag and clamors a parting bye as she walks out.

when she arrives at his house, she’s greeted with a smile and kiss, his arm wraps around her waist as she melts softly into the embrace. he maneuvers her bag from her hands, allowing to to fall absentmindedly to the floor with a loud thud. his hands are groping her everywhere; sliding over her ass, squeezing her titties, palming her cunt through the flimsy pair of leggings that she wore. it’s almost feral how both of their bodies aligned with the same wanton desire.

she loves how the outside world becomes a distant memory for them as they remain secluded in the privacy of his house with no worries of interruption or ridicule waiting. “if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him,” had been a warning, but she found herself gravitating towards him despite their attempts of deterrence. and she had no intentions of letting go of this feeling or him.

[heartsforjh]

Reactions To You Falling

main masterlist

Includes: Sidney Crosby, Quinn Hughes, Jack Hughes, Luke Hughes, Cole Caufield, Kirby Dach, Juraj Slafkovsky, Macklin Celebrini, Will Smith, William Eklund, Matt Rempe, Dylan Strome, Ryan Leonard, Clayton Keller, Jake Oettinger, and Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen (it’s a LOT, i know 😭)

Sidney Crosby: The two of you would be walking downtown for date night when you get a sudden burst of energy and just have to run. You’ve got no destination but that’s no problem considering you end up flat on the concrete. Sid just sighs from behind you, watching as you sit yourself up. “Are you okay?” he’d ask. Once he’s sure you’re gonna be alright he’s going on and on about how he doesn’t know why you’d think that was a good idea, and how you need to be more careful as if it wasn’t just a regular, harmless fall. 

Quinn Hughes: You’re making a recipe that you discovered online, and when you turn from the island to the counter you lose your footing, falling straight to the ground. Quinn… who is sitting at the table on his laptop sees the entire thing, but when he also sees that you’re getting up he quickly focuses his attention back on the computer in front of him. Honestly, you tripping over nothing was embarrassing, but of course, he didn’t want you to feel that way. When you dust yourself off and see that he’s still minding his own business, you get right back to yours–glad nobody saw. Once your recipe is done, you excitedly bring it to him to try. He does his best to indirectly ask how you are after the fall, greeting you with a smile and a, “How you doing, baby?” 

Jack Hughes: You and Jack are about to be late to an event you have after his practice. Naturally, you guys decide to run out to the car. Jack is holding your hand in his–practically dragging you along. You take one wrong step and immediately go down, which he finds hilarious. He’s doubling down laughing at you as you just sit there blank faced, “Are you done, yet? Cause we really have to go, yaknow?” When he finally collects himself enough he makes his way over to you, trying to help you up. He’s still laughing at your expense–just being slightly more helpful in the process. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I actually am. I’m not trying to laugh, I swear.” He gets you back on your feet, presses a kiss to your cheek, and goes right back to trying to rush you out of the doors. 

Luke Hughes: Luke would be just like Quinn–except ten times more awkward. The two of you are probably walking through a big room, deep in conversation when your foot catches on something and you drop. You sit there for a second in silence before looking up at him. and he’s just straight staring into your soul. “Uh…  you good?” he’d ask, not exactly sure what the next move is. “Need help?” You just smile and shake your head, politely declining, “Nah, that’s okay,” is what you conjure up in response, not doing any better than him at helping the somehow mutually embarrassing situation. And though you initially declined, Luke still gives you a hand in getting back up, suddenly remembering how to be a gentleman. 

Cole Caufield: Cole does a much better job at achieving what Quinn and Luke were going for. When you fall whilst literally just walking outside with him, he does laugh at you. However, it’s because he’s constantly telling you to laugh at yourself and to not take anything too seriously. So after he’s helped you back up, you don’t really care that much and you’re able to move past it with his encouragement–just like that! 

Kirby Dach: You and Kirby are skating on an outdoor rink when you lose your balance and absolutely eat snow. “Babe… are you alright? That was nasty!” he says, stopping and helping you up with a chuckle. He’s very clearly trying to hold back from laughing even more as he helps you up, but he’s also wrapping you in a hug for comfort so it’s the thought that counts. “Let’s call it a day on the ice, yeah? We can go eat or something,” he says, guiding you in front of him to step off, trying his very best to hide his snickers as he replays the fall in his head. 

Juraj Slafkovsky: You and Slaf really quickly decide to run into the corner store for some snacks—planning on a movie date back at the apartment. While he’s searching around—picking out your favorites, you glance out the window and see that it’s started to pour. “Oh no… Juraj, look,” you tap him to get his attention. “Ooh. That’s not good,” he says, staring out at the rain, deep in thought. “We can just run!” Your shoulders slump when that’s the best solution he could come up with, but you know you couldn’t do much better. “I don’t think running will keep the rain from getting on us, honey.” He nods, kissing your cheek, and making his way towards the counter. “I know, but we will be out there for a shorter time.” Good enough. Once the snacks are paid for you go to the door and Juraj takes his jacket off, hovering it over your head. “Here, you can have this as an umbrella.” You frown. “What about you?” He smiles and shakes his head. “I’m okay. I like rain. So, we can just keep you dry!” His thoughtfulness absolutely warms your heart. If it weren’t for the task at hand, you’d be all over him. He counts down from three and the two of you take off. But of course, just your luck… when you step off of the curb, your foot slips and suddenly, you’re soaked. “Oh! Sweetheart, you okay?” he asks, frantically grabbing you to pick you up. He hugs your waist tight once you’re up. “I feel so bad. Are you feeling hurt?” his voice is full of sadness. “I’m okay, babe. Don’t worry. But, I guess you can have the jacket back. It’s not gonna do much for me anymore,” you reply, the both of you laughing it off before walking back to the car. 

Macklin Celebrini: Someway, somehow, you and Mack have ended up in your living room, his hands resting gently on your waist—your own around his neck. “You gotta really feel the music, babe,” he says with a nod. “Mack, its slow dancing. You don’t have to feel anything but like… romance,” you frown. “Okay… well, is this romantic?” he asks, going to spin you, but you’re unaware so you don’t lift your arm with his—getting hit in the face and falling onto your butt instead. Macklin’s whole face turns white and he’s instantly crouching down and grabbing you, trying to help. “I’m so sorry! That was an accident. Are you okay?” He feels extremely guilty, but when you just laugh it off he lets out a sigh of relief. “That was not romantic, no.” 

Will Smith: You and Will pull up to your apartment building and park. He goes around to your side of the car and opens the door for you. You shoot him a small smile, gathering your things and stepping out. Only, your foot never lands. Instead, it just swoops through the air causing you to fall straight to the ground with a loud splat. It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in your life, and when you look up to see Will just staring at you with his jaw dropped it does not help. The poor guy is dumbfounded, like he doesn’t know how to even begin comprehending what just happened. “Are you okay, sweet girl? You fell,” he finally manages to get out. “Yes, Will. I noticed,” you reply, looking back at him, completely unamused. He just stands there deep in thought for a good minute, sighs, then helps you back up. “That was crazy. Please don’t do that again.” 

William Eklund: You’re sat down looking at yourself in the phone camera, doing a get ready with me tik tok for funsies that you’ll likely never post. William is laying down on the bed, watching with the cutest little smile on his face. That same smile instantly drops when you do as well, accidentally slipping on something that was left out on the floor. “Ow!” you yelp when you scrape your knees on the carpet. “Oh no!” he exclaims, jumping up and coming to your aid. “You okay, love? You hurt?” You just shake your head and flash him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay! Just scared me a little is all.” He nods, letting you go back to doing your thing. 

Matt Rempe: You’re sitting on a stool at your kitchen island, fully zoned out while chilling with Matt. But, you’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you lean a little bit too far and topple over. All you hear is a gasp from Matt, before the loud thud. He rushes around the island, picking you right up. “Sweetheart, are you alright?! Oh my…gosh,” he asks, his face showing every ounce of worry that he’s feeling. “I’m okay. I hit my head. It kinda hurt,” you tell him. He can’t help but laugh, pulling you into a hug, cradling you close to him like a fragile doll. “Uhhh… yeah! I bet! I heard it!” 

Dylan Strome: You hear Dylan laughing as you play with your dogs. He’s recording as you run around, back, forth, up, and down the backyard. Unfortunately, he is silenced when your dog breaks your ankles, causing you to slip. You just let out a surprised shock and look up to see him making his way to where you’re lying. “You all good?” he asks, standing over you with his brows raised. You can only laugh at yourself at this point. “I don’t know about good, Dyl. But, I think I’ll survive.” He laughs and gives you a hand. “You think?!” 

Ryan Leonard: You and Ryan are giggling away as the two of you have pillows in hand, taking hits at each other. “Ry, that was weak!” you chirp him. “Okay then. Just wait,” he responds, drawing his pillow back and bam—you’re falling straight off the bed. “Oh! Babe, no!” he freaks out, peering over the edge to see you rubbing your head. He reaches down and strokes your cheek, feeling incredibly bad. “I’m so sorry, y/n. For real. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard! Are you alright?” The poor boy looks worried sick. “I’m  alright. No worries. I know it was accident,” you reassure, getting back up and onto the bed, smirking a little. “But… now it’s my turn to hit you!” 

Clayton Keller: You and Clay are at a team cookout. There’s children running around and people talking—everyone is just having a great time. You’re in the middle of telling Clayton a funny story when you feel a force push against you, knocking you right over.  You look up to see him with his hands on a kid, steadying the little guy so he doesn’t fall as well. “Ohhh! Hey, careful buddy! Gotta watch out for people, kay?” he tells the boy, gently. He then turns to you. “You good? Not hurt or anything?” You shake your head no as he pulls you back up using both of your hands, keeping one interlocked once he knows you’re okay. “Those kids are crazy, aren’t they?” He remarks while attentively rubbing your back, probably trying to draw attention from the actual fall itself so you don’t feel too awkward. 

Jake Oettinger: You and Jake are on an arcade date at Dave & Busters, and you’re absolutely sucking down the drinks as they’re your all-time favorite. After you and Jake have eaten you get up from the booth to go play the games, but instead… slip right out of it and onto your stomach. “Oh! Babe!” He wastes no time grabbing your hands and pulling you to your feet. “Are you okay, honey?! That was bad!” You laugh nervously, completely embarrassed. “Yeah, I-I’m just fine.” You don’t even want to look around to see if anybody saw. Why torture yourself like that? And of course, he catches on. “Babe, maybe let’s just… start with the games far away and work our way back, yeah?” he suggests, already ushering you away from the table. 

Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen: You and your boyfriend Upi are taking a walk through your local park. There’s all kinds of things happening. That’s his favorite part—how action packed it is. The two of you are busy people watching, a group of kids trying to get a ball out of a tree, more specifically. So, that means that neither of you see the stray dog getting closer and closer. It only hits you how close it is when… it really hits you. You’re falling back onto your bottom after the friendly guy jumps on you to say hi. “Uh oh! Um… hi puppy!” Ukko says as he leans down to help you back up. “Be gentle,” he instructs the dog as it wags its tail, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You okay, darling?” he asks you, sympathetically. You just nod your head and begin to pet the pup. “Don’t worry, I’m fine! What about the dog? Can we keep him?!”

Um… heyyy! It is painfully clear that I have not been the most post-y as of lately, and I’m seriously so sorry about that. Life has been crazy with all of my health stuff, plus my motivation and confidence is at an all time low right now. I’ve been trying my best to get it back and this all came to me in a dream (my friends). This is for funsies so pls don’t take too seriously. What better way to come back than with a little whimsy? Also, I know there’s like 80 ppl in this. If you feel robbed because you read for a certain player and it’s only a chunk of text, literally just send me a req of that player and I’ll write something for you, it’s not a big deal. Lastly, if you think the theme to this is atrocious… I will most likely be changing it at some point anyways so PLEASE just bare with me for now 😭 Hope y’all enjoyed!

tags: @nic0-hischier @dancerbailey3 @sporadicpizzainternet @cheesecakeinahole @beenucks @azure-dawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @puckfics @editzcp @r0wdymaize86 @ccomandercody @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @ruinix @greensnakegobblep @whitegirlsworld @mainly-miracle @star2fishmeg @wackomcgee

join the taglist here! :)

[glitterbiss]

Dude I’m so tired of seeing this shit about the remmick thirst and fanfic…be so for real, ITS A VAMPIRE. HE HAS LAYERS. HES INTERESTING. Outside of being a handsome ass man and an alluring vampire, he is a character that we don’t know much about. We just know that he’s a bad guy, the villian who thinks he’s the hero. I am a black woman. Yes, the mf ain’t shit. He recked havoc and tried to force submission. Yes he used manipulation; when hasn’t a vampire done so to get what they want? Other vampires use compulsion….yall okay with that? I never seen any complaints with them making someone do something against their will….No, it wasn’t okay. However, as Ryan has stated, HE DID SO BECAUSE HE FELT HE RESONATED WITH THEM. Once again, his actions are not justified, but it shows that he wasn’t doing what he was doing with ill intention. He thought he was helping more than hurting, in his own twisted way. That’s what makes him a complex character. That’s what make ppl want to know more about him. His past, his struggle. I’m not saying he’s more important than other characters but it does make you want to dive deeper. We know nothing about him…dangerous, intriguing…just like a vampire is supposed to be. Yall act like this the first time ppl have romanticized the villian. Hannibal was a cannibal, ppl thirst over him. Joe Goldberg, no different. Lestat, abuser, yall let ppl thirst over him. Like can we please understand that we have two sides of our brains and we can use both. We see what the movie is conveying!!!! WE ALSO SEE A NEW HOT VILLAIN THATS LITERALLY A FANTASY! NOT REAL!!! Irl, I wouldn’t even waste my time on a mf like remmick, but baby this ain’t real. He can get it!

I keep seeing ppl claiming “no one let the film digest before they started with the remmick fics.” Yall do realize, when writers get an idea, that shit needs to be written out as soon as they can because it eats away at their thoughts or it get so bad to the point they can’t concentrate on anything? Like damn just let ppl be. If yall don’t feel the same about him, let it be and ignore it. It wasn’t for your consumption clearly. I respect those opinions and I definitely understand them. But it’s tumblr bro, let it be. 🥱

[just-a-sweet-girl]

Hii omg THANK U for opening requests for DMC just finished the Netflix show and I am now a fan lmao anyways ! Can I get Dantexreader who are in a beginning of a relationship but dante has yet to show his demon form to reader? Reader could be catching glimpses of his red eyes. Could eventually ask to see etc but ya! Just an idea that scratched my brain. Thanks in advance!! <3

Thank you for the request <3

Demons existing wasn't exactly a secret to you. As a kid, you're elementary school had been attacked and to this day, you had no idea if it had been planned or random. To be fair, you didn't want to know, surviving it had been more than enough.

So, it wasn't all that hard to believe your boyfriend of 3 months explained that he was half-human, half-demon. He's never harmed you, or even tried to, Dante was a great boyfriend. So you stayed.

Lately, however, you've begun to notice some new things happening. Like last night during a heated make out session. Things had been going as usual until you caught a glimpse of red in his eyes. The sight made a small, surprised sound escape you while pulling back.

"Dante, your e-" His large hand covers your own eyes. Brows furrowing, you reach out for him, hands gripping his shirt. "...Dante?"

"It's nothing, just..." He heaves a sigh. Still not removing his hand until he knew his eyes were back to normal. "I'm tired, that job earlier took a lot outta me!"

You didn't really believe him, yet you still nod. Hands cupping his face gently to gaze at his eyes. His now, very blue eyes. You smile. "Let's go to bed then... I'll even cook breakfast in the morning."

Dante grins, feeling better now that the subject has changed. Placing a noisy kiss on her forehead. "You're the best, babe!"

It happens a few more times after that. And each time, Dante came up with some excuse to run away or cover your eyes. He even went as far as throwing his coat over your head one time during a demon attack. Even though you had already see his eyes red, his form beginning to change. It was starting to bother you how secretive he was being about this.

Did he not trust you?

"Hey, hey, pretty. What's wrong?" His voice called out, cupping her face in his large hands.

you blink a few times and his face comes into focus. You didn't realize that Dante came home already. His expression filled with worry as he tried to look you over. You didn't think the thought of him not trusting you would have made you cry, but it did.

"You're eyes go red." you sniffle, getting straight to the point. "I accepted you being half-demon, so, i understand you would have some characteristics."

He called your name.

"Why do you hide it from me?" you whisper, hands holding his. "It doesn't matter to me if you have blue or red eyes. Or any other appearance besides the one i see now. You will always be Dante."

You finally see that vulnerability in him. "I don't want to scare you away." His forehead rests upon your own. eyes closing for a moment as he debates within himself.

"You won't." Then, you say, "Show me."

Dante close his eyes. Brows scrunched together as he hesitates. Even though you're asking to see, he was scared. What if you screamed and ran away from him? It hurt to think, but that might be the better outcome for you...

But you don't do any of that.

Smiling softly at the sight you only caught glimpses of. Nose brushing against his. "You're still my handsome Dante." The words are enough to have his smile return. "Red does suit you, after all."

[taxi-cab-to-slowtown]

PLEASE DC fandom understand this!!

When I'm discussing comics with someone and say something about Barry being the speedforce and you counter it with "that's just a theory" or "I don't like that canon" that just makes me wonder if you know the source material you're a fan of.

However, when I was messaging a friend about a fic and I said something about him taking it in a direction with speedforce Barry and he said "I don't like using it in my fics because it's so complicated and does not spark joy for me" I have full and complete respect of that opinion.

The thing is people need to understand that

if you're in a fandom space talking about a plot/idea you have to accept that someone might come in and say "what if we took it in this direction because of [enter canon thing here]"

They are not hating on your character/interpretation of canon

it is harassing the other person to say "That's not canon and you don't read enough to actually understand" no matter what it is.

PLEASE just say "i personally don't want to go in that direction" and that's it. It is so easy. When you are creating something it is up to you what you choose to accept and not accept as canon for your work.

When you are discussing canon... you do not get to choose was is "real" and "not real".

"you can't pick and choose what you like from canon" common misconception! yes you can

[pikaclerc]

I always find it ironic how much these far right men who make Star Wars content love to talk about Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader and love to present themselves as experts on the character.

Isn't Anakin the character whose portrayal you disliked so much that you bullied a child off the movie industry? Isn't Anakin the character whose portrayal you disliked so much you made Hayden Christensen not want to be seen in public for years?

These men love to present themselves as just "passionate movie lovers" and justify everything they did to Jake and Hayden with "we were just criticizing bad acting". No what you've always disliked is how Anakin is shown as someone who at some point in his life had people he cared about, people that cared about him, he's shown as someone who at some point didn't just feel hatred for everyone and everything, unlike you. It's not enough that at the end of the day, Anakin still turned into Vader, no the fact they dared to show him cry, love, as not being the "alpha male" these men think of themselves as, made them decide it was their life mission to ruin the careers and lives of two actors. Personally I've also always had the suspicion that Hayden Christensen never appearing to be anything like these men in interviews he gave also set them off.

And what has changed in the past couple years or so isn't how Hayden portrays Anakin or anything, it's the fact the fandom has turned so much on the idea he was a bad Anakin, that these men no longer sense they have an audience who will tolerate them berating him. The moment they think this has changed, they'll turn the chip right back on.

All this to say none of the reactions you are seeing right now regarding one of the most recent Andor episodes (if you don't know what I'm talking about be careful looking it up as it is triggering) are about the writing in Star Wars. Star Wars does a good job portraying an oppressive regime in the form of the galactic empire. The problem is these men don't care about what Star Wars is trying to tell you, these men care about using Star Wars and all the characters as vessels for their sick world view.

EDIT: Apologies I'm very stupid when it comes to Tumblr so Idk who wrote this but to the person who reblogged this post with "They want their fascist empire to be badass not ugly" you 100% hit the nail on the head.

[brain4stew]

Thinking about reader being a “pupeteer” for their chosen killer/survivor, and the killer/survivor can see the reader’s avatar.

Survivors ♡

Chance 🪙

This guy, most likely would be confused, but probably wouldn’t mind you being there at all.

He thinks it’s cool that he can see “you” (avatar), and sometimes tries to talk to “you”…. No answer of course.

Genuinely is spooked when he sees, and knows that “you”’re controlling him in rounds.

He thinks he’s going insane overtime however.

Elliot 🍕

Genuinely confused, and even more worried than he normally would be.

Thinks that “you” (avatar) is an imaginary friend he thought of.

Sometimes just “talks” to “you” (avatar) as some sort of stress relief. (It sometimes helps, but when it doesn’t he’ll just laugh quietly to himself. Convinced he’s going insane.)

A bit thankful that “you”’re there helping him in rounds, but is also still terrified whenever “you” control him.

Guest 1337 🪖

Genuinely thinks “you”’re also an imaginary friend he thought of overtime. (Probably developed plenty of imaginary friends while in war too once or twice.)

Knows he can’t talk to “you” but would really want to. (He actually notices “you”’re following him, and it kind of puts him more on edge.)

He once tried to touch “you”, and the image of your avatar reacted a little at the touch, which kind of actually spooked him.

Shocked whenever “you”’re controlling him, and helping him out in rounds.

007n7 🍔

Thinks that “you” were made from his C00lgui, and immediately checked it. (He later thought “you” were an imaginary friend he made up.)

Would randomly, and rarely (when no other survivors are nearby,) would “talk”, and “vent” to “you”, even though he knows that “you” can’t respond and all that.

Genuinely got spooked when “you” just stood by him and followed him around. (He’s worried he’s going insane.)

Slowly noticed that where he wants to go, isn’t where he’s going, and notices that “you”’re the one controlling and helping him in rounds.

Builderman 🔨

Somehow, he suspects that “you” are a robloxian. (Don’t ask how he somehow knows, I headcanon that the admins and devs of Roblox know abt the robloxians.)

Rarely would inspect your avatar, mainly out of curiosity, and so he could possibly get some sort of ideas.

Actually was shocked when “you” followed him around, and whatnot. (He once saw your avatar dance, and it kind of confirmed his speculations.)

Genuinely very worried whenever he noticed “you”’re controlling him in rounds. Just how on earth can a robloxian, control him?

Shedletsky 🍗🗡️

Not the smartest, but thought “you” were a robloxian after a while. (He legit thought he was going insane at first.)

He once tried feeding “you” a chicken, but it just knocked over your avatar. Which he just… Stared at… (Basically watching your avatar flail around, before standing up almost immediately.)

Once tried to attack “you” with his sword as well, and noticed a health bar over “you”, as your avatar took some damage, and that made him think of “you” as a robloxian.

Legit thought it was cool and also creepy at the same time, whenever “you” were controlling him in rounds and all that.

Noob 🥤👻🪨

They were spooked upon seeing “you”, and actually thought “you” were some sort of spy, or something that helps the killers.

Eventually calmed down, and thought of “you” as some sort of imaginary friend.

Sometimes talks to “you”, even if you don’t respond and can’t hear. They’re just a bit glad they can “talk” to someone in the hell hole they’re in.

They genuinely were more spooked, startled and even terrified, when “you” were controlling them in rounds and helping them…

Two Time 2️⃣ 🕰️

Thought “you” were a ghost, and got curious and interested. (They actually thought that “you” are some sort of spirit that the spawn sent to watch over them.)

They sometime just, look at “you”, and pokes “you”, touches “you” and overall interacts with “you”. (Your avatar sometimes fall over from that, flailing around a bit, before standing up.)

They would thank the spawn for “you” coming to watch over them. And sometimes they just, stare at “you”, almost affectionately.

They noticed that “you”’re controlling them after a few rounds, and that fed their delusional ahh even more…

Taph 💥💣

Genuinely wonders if “you” can set off their tripwire’s and their subspace bomb. (You don’t, since your avatar can’t set off any traps.)

Rarely talks to “you” (emoji’s ofc), mostly about Builderman, but also about how to modify their bomb more.

Once, thought that “you” were a ghost when “you” somehow walked through a wall, and it kind of spooked ‘em. (They got over it after a while.)

Actually once cursed in emoji’s whenever “you” were controlling them in rounds, it felt weird to them.

Dusekkar 🪄(💨⚡️?)

Did not understand what “you” were wearing for a long while, and thought “you” were some imaginary friend he made up after a while. (He asked Builderman and Shedletsky about “you” though…)

Later figured out that “you” are a robloxian, and was actually a little bit excited and curious. (Mainly because of the clothes on the market and etc, etc.)

Was a bit spooked by “you” following him, like one of the pizza deliveries, or the minions of 1x4. But eventually relaxed after knowing “you” can’t even hurt anyone or anything.

Thankful, but… Also frustrated and terrified whenever “you”’re controlling hum in rounds.

Killers ☆

1x1x1x1 💚⚔️🖤

This, being of hatred… Hates “you”. He knows exactly what “you” are, and despises it. (They know that you’re a robloxian, due to Shedletsky knowing that, and all that bs.)

She wonders if “you” can be able to be attacked, damaged, and seen by the others. (They did attack “you” once, and actually regretted it for some reason. Because they saw your avatar flail a bit from accidentally getting knocked over from his attack, before standing up again.)

Randomly tries to “hug you”, but most of the time they either phase through “you”, or she manages to “hug you”, and accidentally makes your avatar flail a bit. (IN SECRET OFC, there’s no way he’d let the other killers see her being a bit soft.)

They genuinely were annoyed by “you” whenever “you”’re controlling her in rounds. But he’s also thankful for whenever “you” win for them.

John Doe 🖤0️⃣1️⃣❤️

More confused than he was before. Who are “you”? What are “you”? What can “you” do? Are “you” a ghost or something?

His corruption prevents him from actually knowing who “you” are and all of that. (Even if he asked the other killers, he’d forget about the information in about a minute.)

Accidentally gave “you” the corruption effect once, and became a bit worried. (Thankfully the corruption doesn’t last long, but it still made him worry a bit.)

Genuinely more confused whenever “you” control him, especially if you put the ‘Yourself’ skin on him. Genuinely wonders if “you” actually like killing survivors, and other robloxians…

Jason 🔪🪚

Confused. Even his mother is confused, but the both decided to just, let “you” be.

Once accidentally gave “you” bleeding, and actually panicked a bit. His mother tried to calm him down, but even she was panicking a bit. (When they saw your avatar was alright, they were practically sighing in relief.)

Once saw “you” flail around on the ground for a while, and get flung for a bit, before standing up, as if nothing happened. (It destroyed his way of thinking, even his mothers way of thinking was destroyed too.)

Spooked whenever “you” control him, and so is his mother, when she notices that her son isn’t controlling his own movements. But they’re both happy whenever “you” make Jason win.

Mafioso 🐰

Genuinely found “you” interesting, and actually wondered if “you” are like his boss, Eunoia.

One of his guys somehow accidentally put “you” on fire, and it spooked his other guys, and even him. (Your avatar was fine after a while, but it still spooked them.)

Actually saw “you” get flung at one point, watching “you” flail a bit, before standing up. (He found it a bit hilarious, but also got a bit worried.)

Genuinely thinks “you”’re someone that can posses him, and use him in rounds, which scares him a bit, but also scares his guys a lot. (They eventually all adapted to it however.)

C00lkidd 🧱

He actually was excited upon seeing “you”, thinking he finally has a friend to play with!

Was disappointed whenever he can’t really play with “you”. But, he killed “you” once on accident, and saw “you” either, collapse like the survivors, or explode. (Like when you reset your avatar in the lobby.) And it spooked him a bit.

He thinks of “you” as an imaginary friend, even though he doesn’t exactly know what imaginary means completely, he likes “you” still! Well… Until…

He’s genuinely scared, confused and downright hates it whenever “you” control him in rounds… LET HIM HAVE HIS FUN!!

Noli 👾

He probably knows who “you” are, but eventually forgot about “you”. And now thinks of “you” as some sort of ‘npc’ he made for himself, whenever he wants to talk with someone other than the other killers.

He rambles to “you” about every rounds he’s been in, even though “you” can’t hear it, he’s still glad he can ramble on and on to “you”.

(Prob ooc;) Whenever he’s too bored, or too tired, he’ll hug “you” and just, hold “you” in his grasp. (Whilst your avatar flails a bit, due to the collision- ik that roblox avatars don’t have that in the lobby.)

I think he’d be excited and happy whenever “you” control him, and makes him win. It makes him feel like he accomplishes things more quicker.

Azure 🪻

They dislike “you”, or hate “you”. No in between. Don’t get them wrong, it’s because they can’t trust “you” yet, completely. (Due to their past.)

After a while, they’ll gradually trust “you”, slowly but surely. I have a feeling that they’ll enjoy being near “you”, or in “your” presence sometimes.

Whenever they’re too bored, and trust “you” enough, they’ll probably use their tendrils, to wrap them around “you” and watch “you” flail around. It makes them laugh, they find it pretty amusing to say the least.

They’re confused and don’t really know if they can trust “you” with controlling them. But whenever they see that “you” make them kill Two Time, and give them wins… Then dang, color them surprised, they enjoy it.

Guest 666 👹

Probably confused about who and what “you” are. But doesn’t really care or mind it. “You” remind him of Noob, and it makes him a bit happy.

He’ll probably get exhausted at some points, and will probably, and I mean PROBABLY, drag “you” with him by his tail, before curling up around “you”. Like some sort of dog, or something. (Idk, an animal that does that at least-) and rests there, enjoying the peace he has with “you” there.

He occasionally pokes “you”, seeing “you” fall over and flail a bit, before standing up again. He rarely does this, but, he rarely whacks “you” away on accident with his tail, and he gets a bit saddened at that. (Cue his horns in his trailers going down, with a frown on his face.) He watches as “you” flail a bit, before standing and going towards him again, and just staying by him. (He’s happy and glad about that.)

Genuinely confused, yet also excited whenever “you” control him in rounds. He can tell that “you” hesitate for a few seconds on killing Noob, before “you” eventually make him do it. (He sees how “you” just stand still for a while, after hearing what he said when he killed Noob. He assumes that “you” are sad about what he said…)

(I’m tired y’all. 😞💔)

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐀 ꕥ OP81

summary. a certain aussie seems to be there to pick up the pieces of your dying relationship.

warnings. lando is an asshole, man eater!reader, toxic relationship, cheating, smut, pnv, fingering, just straight up dirty, alcohol usage, unreliable narrator, and plot twist at the end. 18+

a/n. loosely based off purple lace bra by tate mcrae but then trails off. let’s ignore the fact that i’ve been working on this since the china grand prix and had to edit the racing parts multiple times.

THE CHEAP PERFUME filled your hotel room as Lando walked in. You’re already used to his behavior, you don’t even flinch. But internally you’re a mess. He was so sweet when you first met him back when he was at Surrey and most nights you stay up wondering what went wrong. There was a point where you blamed yourself and spent countless nights crying yourself to bed. But when you realized that he would just watch you cry over him and not do anything to help you stopped caring. You were waiting for him to self destruct at this point.

You knew where he’d been all night. The loud edm music replaying in your head as you remember. Carlos still had you on his close friends and you’d wondered if he had just forgotten or done it on purpose. It doesn’t matter really, not when most of the videos are of Lando with his hands wrapped around someone new every weekend.

The room is silent, the tension so high you could cut it with a knife. You’re lying down facing the wall hoping he thinks you’re asleep. Unfortunately, after eight years of dating and even while drunk he knows you too well. It’s funny really the way he will openly cheat on you but behind closed doors the guilt eats him. The bed dips as he sits down next to you.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs.

“No, you’re not.” You respond.

There’s a brief silence, your answer adding onto Lando’s guilt. He just stares at you dumbfounded as if he’s the one suffering. He lets out a loud sigh as he rubs his hands through his face, trying to figure out what excuse to use this time. He doesn’t seem to come up with one because you feel his hand begin to trail up your leg.

“Don’t touch me.” You sit up. “Not after you’ve been with another woman.”

“Oh, for fucks sake.” He almost chuckles at your words. “You act all hurt but you were the one who stayed-”

The sound of your hand hitting his cheek is loud enough to be heard outside the room. Your hand shakes mid-air and you don’t know if it’s because of what the Brit said or if you’re surprised at your actions. Either way it gets him to shut up. You knew for certain that you didn’t want to hear the end of his sentence. At least that’s the excuse you come up with. In reality it was for the humiliation he had been causing you as of late. He deserved it.

Quickly you get up from the king sized bed, careful to not run into the food service cart you called in earlier. The chocolate cake you never ate stares back at you as you figure out what to do. You hear shuffling behind you and eventually Lando’s presence can be felt behind you. You already know the “I will never do it again” gimmick is about to fly out of his mouth.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please, let’s just go to bed.” He pleads.

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke.” You speak barely above a whisper.

You fiddle with your fingers as you regain your composure, your actions shocking you. You’re not in the right headspace he says as his chest presses against your back. You almost laugh at his antics. It was always the same. He’d come home smelling like another woman, he’d apologize, and you would forgive him, but you were tired. You couldn’t hold onto the idea that Lando would go back to being your Lando. It wasn’t going to happen, not anytime soon at least.

“I’m going for a smoke.” You state again.

You slide past his tense body as you make your way towards the nearest exit. The door slams behind you as you try to get far away from him. A couple of tears slip past your eyelids as you make your way towards the balcony. The same balcony you’d been spending your last couple of nights while Lando was somewhere else having the time of his life. Because, God forbid a man stays loyal in a relationship.

The balcony has a perfect view of the dimly lit courtyard down below. You stand near the railing admiring the view and scattered chatter of the few guests still awake at these hours. Although, they all seemed happy which is something you hadn’t experienced for a while on grand prix weekends. You sighed as you rummaged your robe for the Marlboro cigarettes you’d sneaked into your luggage.

“Can’t sleep?” You jump at the voice with no face.

The brunette emerges from the shadows and you recognize his face almost instantly. Oscar Piastri. The man who was mere points away from taking your boyfriend’s number one driver spot at McLaren. You’d never talked to him hell even interacted with him once in all this years. Now here he was in the flesh, catching you in one of your most vulnerable moments.

“Shit, you scared me.” You gasp holding your hand to your chest. Always into theatrics.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.” He raises his hands up trying to prove his innocence.

The two of you laugh it off as he approaches you. His brown eyes glare into yours as he studies you. He had this thing where he liked to guess people’s backstories simply by looking at them. His ex told him it was creepy and for a moment he tried to get rid of the habit but then they broke up. You can see the gears turning in his head as he reads you. You’re sure he can see the tears in your eyes but he doesn’t say anything about them.

“Fuck, I forgot my lighter.” You sigh, frustrated.

“Here.” He takes one out of his pocket.

You brush his fingers lightly as you take it from him. You murmur a quick thanks in the process before drawing your eyes back to the courtyard. The various murals and statues help you relax. Oddly enough so does the presence of the Aussie.

“Why do you have a lighter?” You ask the brunette.

“I’m a pyromaniac.” He shrugs.

“A driver with humor… how rare.” You indulge in his joke.

“What? Your boyfriend isn’t funny?” He tilts his head trying to read your face.

“Only in public.” You shrug.

“Hmm.” You can hear the judgment in his hum.

“What?” You ask tentatively noticing his change in demeanor.

“I’m not too fond of your boyfriend.” The Aussie grins.

“Yeah, me neither.” You try to whisper but when you notice Oscar’s amused grin you realize how loud you’ve said it. Not that you minded.

“Any particular reason?” He decides to test his luck.

The click of the lighter as you light the cigarette can be heard across the hallway. Your acrylic nails stick out to the driver. He catches how they’re orange and how one even his Lando’s number on it.

You take the lit cigarette and pull it close to your lips, staining it a dark hue of red as you’d forgotten to take your makeup off. Taking a deep, satisfying draw, the smoke slowly filled your lungs as you debated on spilling Lando’s secrets. Or so you thought.

While Oscar may not have been on Carlos close friends, he was certainly on Lando’s spam. A secret account he knew for sure you weren’t on, he’s checked. He knew too much about Lando’s private life and it annoyed him. But most of all it made him irritated that Lando had you waiting for him after every race yet he still cheated.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” You give him a sly smile.

“I’ve got nine lives left.” He jokes.

“Why aren’t you fond of my boyfriend?” You turn the question towards him.

“Fair enough.” Oscar replies. He had already overstepped his boundaries and he didn’t want to go any further.

“It’s just-” He starts

He’s not sure he should be telling you this. He wanted to be honest after all that’s how he was raised. To always tell the truth but he hated the melancholy on your face. Lando was truly out of his damn mind to have you feeling like this.

“I don’t see why Lando would treat you like that.” He shrugs. “You’re too good for him.”

“Well, he wasn’t always like that.” Your tone changes.

“If it’s any consolation my last breakup ended after I got cheated on.” He tries to comfort you.

“I guess we’re not that different, you and I. Well, you’re a talented driver and I’m just the girlfriend of a Formula 1 Driver.” You take a draw of your cigarette again.

You throw the cigarette on the ground making sure to stomp on it. The last thing you needed was to start a fire. You pick it up of course to throw it away on your way back, you’re not a monster. The lively chatter from the courtyard had died down and the hallway lights had dimmed indicating how late it was. You take that as your cue to leave. After all the guy in front of you had Qualifying and you didn’t want to be the reason he ran late.

“It was nice talking to you Osc. I really needed it.” You offer him a genuine smile. “I should head back though. Lan is probably waiting for me.”

The nickname has him look at you, like really look at you. He analyzes your eyes, your hair. and the way your lips curl into a mischievous expression with every word you say. It’s the first time he’s actually noticed you. A shiver runs down his spine as he realizes how jealous he is of his teammate right now. Not just jealous but angry because, how could he possibly cheat on you when you were the prettiest thing his eyes had ever laid eyes on.

“See you at qualifying.” He says.

You offer him a last smile before stepping away from him. He laughs to himself wondering how much longer until you gave up on Lando. Then he remembers his lighter, the lighter he uses every once in a while when the season gets rough. It was only three or four cigarettes a year he imagined it wouldn’t hurt. Swiftly he turns around hoping to stop you before you go far and he spots you. But he stops in his tracks before he can run after you.

Oscar’s breath hitches as he realizes you’ve been talking to him in lingerie this whole time. Your see through robe leaving very little to the imagination as you walk towards your room. Suddenly, the temperature changes around him and the only thing he feels is the sweat dripping down his neck. He was disappointed and subtly disgusted in himself. You’d spent the last hour telling him all your life troubles, venting to him, trusting him and his dick was getting hard. It was official. The sport had ruined all sense of morality he had left.

“Fuck me.” He murmurs to himself.

ꕥ

The next time Oscar sees you there’s a nuisance following right behind you. It’s very obvious when Lando’s trying to beg you for his forgiveness, he always trails after you like a sick puppy. Like he’s the victim and you’re the mean guy. It completely pisses off the Aussie so much so that when he secures a higher place on the grid than the Brit he doesn’t even offer his teammate any consolation. After all they were just teammates, not brothers, not friends, hell not even acquaintances. Just teammates for pay.

You dress modestly due to this week’s racing venue but somehow it makes Oscar’s brain go haywire. Mostly because he’s wondering what set you have hiding under your long dress. The hot weather of Bahrain doesn’t help him either and he forces his eyes off you, not wanting to make his growing crush on you obvious. It was utterly absurd how much you consumed his thoughts now when a week ago he didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

“So, where we going after the race?” His friend asks him. “Mate, are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” Oscar massages his temple as he watches you strut away.

“Where’s your head at mate?” His friend stares at him all confused. He’d never seen the Aussie so distracted.

“On the race. Which is why I’m not going out tonight. Save the party for next week.” Oscar replies.

-

Lando and you are lucky you haven’t gotten a noise complaint yet due to all the yelling. Carlos has invited him to another party the night before the race. You try to reason with him that he needs to be at his best for tomorrow’s race. You bring up the championship and how he can’t afford another slip off if he wants to end the season a winner.

“Why don’t you come with then?” Lando suggests. “We’ll only be there an hour or two and that way we can unwind for a bit.”

“Are you serious?” You ask him incredulously. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I don’t get you. I am trying to make amends here.” Lando’s tone changes.

“Oh, so I’m in the wrong here?” You scoff. “I’m sorry for looking out for you.”

“Oh, piss off. You act like you’re above everyone else but here you are.” He scorns.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“It means that you can’t live without me. You’re always complaining about me about what I do trying to dictate everything I do yet you haven’t left.” He replies.

There’s a an awkward pause and you hope that he’ll take back what he says. But as the seconds go by you realize that all he wanted was the final say. Tears form in your eyes and you look at him with hurt, you don’t even know who he is anymore. As opposed to Lando who can only give you a glare wondering if Carlos would be pissed that he’d be late.

“Okay.” You finally spit out.

Lando only chuckles and shakes his head before he storms away. You can only stand there as you watch him walk away not just from you but your relationship. It’s all a blur as the cold air begins to make you shiver, after all the Brit left you standing in the middle of the hotel hallway with nothing but a lace slip dress on and some heels you were desperate to take off.

Unbeknownst to you the other Formula 1 Driver had overheard your entire conversation from his room. He was never one to eavesdrop but as soon as he heard your voice his morals escaped him. Concern filled him as he heard Lando’s vile words and he wasted no time in looking for you after the yells ended.

“Where’s Norris?” Oscar asks you.

“Who the fuck knows.” Your hands rub your forehead as you think about the fit your boyfriend threw earlier. He was probably down another girl’s throat right now.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business.” His cheeks turn pink.

“No, Osc it’s not your fault. Sorry, I’m just frustrated.” You try to comfort him. “You got any wine?”

Not even an hour later and you find out Oscar had moved to the UK at a young age, his parents divorced when he was young, and his favorite food was carbonara. A couple of drinks and you also air out some of your business. His eyes go wide when you tell him that it was actually your classmate that had originally asked Lando out but you’d caught his eye. That’s how you ended up here all because you were curious about the kid with curls and tan skin.

Two drinks later and the two of you are laughing away at the Aussie’s corny jokes. Then there’s a brief silence after one of his anecdotes and the two of you find yourselves in some sort of a staring contest. The air shifts. The intensity of his stare has you looking at him a different way. Maybe it was the alcohol or your resentment towards your boyfriend, but Oscar was somehow becoming more appealing. You barely knew him yet he had all the traits Lando has lost over the years.

“I wish I could kiss you.” His brown eyes grow wide as he realizes what he’s said.

“I didn’t mean- I meant-” He starts rambling.

“Yeah? Why don’t you kiss me then?” Your big doe eyes beg him to do something, anything.

He wastes no time and his hand wraps around your jaw as he brings you in for a sloppy yet passionate kiss. His lips move against yours in synch and you can feel him grow hard against you. It’s like being a school girl again and sneaking out to meet the guy no one knew you were hooking up with. His kisses begin to trail downwards and you find your legs opening to allow him closer to your body.

Your red bottom heels press against his forehead as you hold him back. You let out a chuckle recalling the time you did it to Lando. Oscar grunts at your actions, he has a perfectly good view of your panties at this angle and he can’t do anything about it. It drives him crazy and you can see it in the way he claws at the carpet underneath him.

“Fucking hell.” He grunts.

“I have a boyfriend.” You gasp, finally aware of what you’d just done.

You drop your heel from his forehead as your sobriety comes back. Oscar visibly winces as he drops on the ground. He can’t help the groan that escapes him as you change your mind. He can only sit back and watch as you panic in front of him, his hard on straining against his sweatpants. It’s absolutely killing him.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper before kissing him on the cheek.

“Oh, and you should really take care of that.” You point towards his crotch before leaving the room.

ꕥ

The race ended over two hours ago and now Lando was spending the car ride to the hotel whining about it not going his way. It was funny really the way he would be so nonchalant to the press but suffering behind closed doors. You’re currently in his drivers room listening to his endless ranting about the car, the strategy, and most of all how Oscar was beginning to overshadow him. You were tired and honestly after his words from last night you felt like giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“How pathetic. You couldn’t even make it on the podium.” You say with distaste. “I told you to not go partying.”

“My fault that I didn’t win then.” He replies sarcastically.

“Actually yeah it is.” You scold him. “Oscar has the same car and he won the race.”

The look on his face is of shock but mostly anger. You knew how sensitive he was to this specific topic. The topic being that he was worried about his standing on the team. You stand there in the middle of his driver’s room trying to hold your ground but after all those years together Lando knows you’re bluffing. You don’t break though and instead continue with your antics until he’s tired of them.

“The car will take you back to the hotel.” He sighs. “Don’t wait up on me.”

Not soon after he’s stormed off you pick up your bag not wanting to cause a scene here. After all there were cameras everywhere and the last thing you needed was to be on every gossip page. You preferred to remain private, it was extremely refreshing, and allowed you to roam freely across the host cities. Although, you’re too distracted to even notice where you’re going not until you run straight into someone’s chest.

“I’m so sorry.” You say.

“It’s fine.” You recognize the accent almost immediately. “You okay?”

You look up to see Oscar looking at you with a concerned look. His cheeks a light shade of red and you realize he’s still recovering from the race.

“Wait.” You speak up. “Do you think you can come back with me to the hotel?”

He knows he should say no especially after last night’s events but the look on your face. Your eyes are basically pleading for him to say yes. He also recalls seeing Lando angrily walk through the paddock not too long ago and seeing your state he imagines what’s happened. Also, he couldn’t just leave you all alone and obviously distraught.

“Yeah. I just need to get some things and then we can leave.” He nods.

You wait for him patiently as he quickly goes back to his driver room. He doesn’t take more than five minutes before he’s back with a sports bag in his hand. The drive back is short and silent, the two of you too afraid to say anything. Oscar was trying his best to not bring up last night but seeing you again so soon was messing with his brain. Out of respect he keeps his mouth shut.

Oscar ever the gentleman helps you out of the car and into your room. He looks around noticing Lando’s pile of clothes on the floor. He also notices how organized your desk is as opposed to what he assumes is your boyfriend’s side of the room. While he continues to analyze the room you take off the heels and let out a sigh of relief at the feel of your feet being free.

“Well, I should go.” He pats his pants. “Good Night.”

He’s halfway towards the door when you rush towards him. You grab his arm urging him to look at you. His eyes are soft and endearing as he senses the warmth in your eyes. He felt like a little boy with a school crush. You were absolutely breathtaking.

“Don’t go.” You whisper.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You knew it was wrong that you shouldn’t go as low as Lando but it didn’t feel wrong. For once you put yourself first and you don’t hesitate to pull in Oscar for a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle and for a second he rests his forehead against yours. Though, that doesn’t last long because the kiss seems to resurface yesterday’s conversation and when he kisses you again it’s with fervor. In only seconds your hands are in his hair and his hands are gripping your waist. Quickly, you lead him towards the bed.

His hands trail your body exploring parts he’s never touched before. He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail which causes a shiver to run down your spine at the exposure. His lips hover over your neck and before you know it he’s leaving kisses all over the exposed skin. You can feel your body temperature sky rocket as he explores you and while it feels nice you really need him to do something, anything.

“Osc, I need you.” You whine.

You take the risk and take his hand and drag it further down your body. You’re fortunate you decided to wear a dress to tonight’s race and that allows easy access. You can see Oscar get visibly flustered as he realizes what you’re trying to do. You wait a few seconds in case he’s changed his mind before dragging his hand under your dress. He feels the fabric of your panties first and manages to sneak a peek at them. Purple. He almost moans at the thought of you wearing a matching set. It takes him a minute to notice that you’re soaked. You’re practically dripping. You move your panties out of the way and he’s finally able to feel just how turned on you are for him.

“I’m so wet for you.” You mewl seductively.

“Fuck.” He groans.

Somehow Oscar gains the confidence to move his fingers through your folds. You almost close your legs on his hands as he begins to work your cunt. His thumb comes in contact with your clit and you can’t help the illicit moans that escape you. He’s making you feel good in all the right places and he has to bring in his other hand you hold you down. He recalls last night and decides it’s his opportunity to taste you. Soon, his fingers are replaced with his tongue and you let out the most vulgar words at the feeling.

“Osc, oh my.” You gasp.

Your legs wrap around his shoulders as he laps your cunt like a man starved. Oscar had watched plenty of porn before but as he hears your graphic moans he knows that this is better than porn. The way you grind against his face makes him feel good about himself and he decides to take a risk. He brings two fingers to your cunt running them through your folds before dragging them to your hole.

You feel the intrusion and bring your hand down to his wrist helping him guide them inside you. He starts off with a slow pace and you’re sure you can feel his fingers so deep inside of you.

“So close.” You whine.

Oscar speeds up his ministrations at that and you can feel his fingers repeatedly rubbing your sensitive spot. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll last. Then, he curls them inside of you and you feel the room go dizzy as you reach your peak. Your walls squeeze against his fingers and he smirks at your reaction.

“Was that good?” He asks out of breath.

You laugh at that. You can’t remember the last time you had ever felt like that. You look up to him and see his pink cheeks and pull him down for a kiss. Your hands running through his hair as you taste yourself on him. He pulls away taking in your fucked out state. He really wishes he could take a picture but instead he’ll remind himself to never forget this.

You take the opportunity and turn the two of you over, straddling him taking him by surprise. Your actions only turn him on more and you can feel him get hard under you. You lean down kissing him before feeling his hands reach for your zipper. You help him out and unzip your dress and Oscar is finally able to see the set you were hiding. Oscar feels like he’s in heaven. A purple lace bra to accompany your purple lace panties. He had to be the luckiest man alive.

“Oh, fuck.” Oscar groans.

You’re not even fully naked and Oscar feels completely flustered. You can’t wait any longer and move your panties to the side. He admires you from below as you sink down on his cock. A gasp escapes the both of you as he enters you, slowly. Your hands immediately wrap around his shoulders as he fills you completely. You faintly feel his forehead lean against your chest.

“Feel so full Osc.” You moan.

“Yeah?” He groans.

You push him down against the mattress admiring his toned body from above. You remember meeting him all those years ago when he first joined McLaren and he wasn’t the same guy. He was no longer scrawny and skinny. He was built and had a six pack forming. It was certainly the sight and you were getting impatient. You pull up until just the tip is inside of you before slamming back down taking all of him.

“Yeah. So full.” You moan.

Your palms push against his chest as you begin your movements. Your hips move in circles as you ride him. The Aussie can only watch in awe as you fuck him and your titties bunch with every thrust. His hands wrap around your waist instinctively as he notices your movements slowing down. He fills you up perfectly but you’re not so sure how much longer you can remain on top. You’re going so slow when Oscar takes over.

He holds you tight against him as he thrusts up into you. It’s a slow pace at first but the moans of his name seem to egg him on. The pace changes almost instantly and soon enough he’s rutting into you. It’s dirty, rough, intense, it was everything Oscar wasn’t at least in public. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades as he splits you open. Your walls squeeze him as your climax approaches and Oscar only speeds up. It’s all too much for you. A couple of thrusts later and you’re coming around his dick, coating him with slick.

“Fuck.” You sigh.

“Fucking hell. I’m so close.” Oscar grunts.

Oscar was bad at making decisions but he wasn’t entirely stupid. He pulls out as he feels his climax approaching. You watch as thick ropes of cum land on your stomach. Both of you are out of breath and you can hear the both of you panting. It’s almost like a scene out of a porno. You look up and notice that he’s already looking at you. You reach up and grab his jaw bring him in for a final kiss.

“I think I like you.” Oscar whispers like it’s a secret.

“I know.”

Almost as if on purpose your phone rings and you lean over the brunette to reach for it. The exposure of your phone lights up the dark room and you can’t help the grin that forms on your face as you read the notification. You quickly shut off your phone before you scoot back into bed with Oscar.

Lan 🧡

Can I come back yet?

-

You’re barely out of the shower when you hear the click of the hotel room door indicating your boyfriends arrival. Your white robe somewhat wet and drops of water rolling down your legs. It’s nice for once that Lando is back before midnight. He adorns a huge smirk on his face and your appearance only makes it larger. His plan has worked he decides.

“Did it work?” Lando asks.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his disheveled appearance. He reeks of alcohol and weed and you recall his story where Carlos sprayed Champagne all over him. His curls were soaked and out of place, his shirt was unbuttoned, and hell even his socks were mismatched. Seriously, you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he’s a professional athlete.

“You stink.” You say with disgust.

The Brit only laughs and proceeds to walk towards you. You feel the bed dip as he slowly crawls to your lap. He kicks his shoes off before they can get on the sheets. It reminded you of your Uni days when he would surprise you at your loft after midnight. He lets out a sigh of relief as he lays in your lap as if you were his saving grace. In a way you were though. He couldn’t have made it this far in his career without you. He knew that.

“Did it work?” Lando asks again.

Your hands massage through his curls as he lays on your lap, enjoying the soft mewls that leave his lips. You wouldn’t think that he’d be able to pull off his asshole act. Your hand locks with his as he awaits your answer.

“He was practically worshipping me.” You hum. “He also hates you a lot. I think it worked.”

“I love you.” He mumbles.

“I know.”