#what i have (tentatively) worked out so far:

[fushiguho]

Sucking Professor!Kento’s cock during office hours… sorry in advance I’m ovulating :/

“I just wanna see it.” You purr as you’re sinking to your knees before him, two curious hands reaching forward to undo the silver buckle of his belt.

“You just wanna see it?” He echoes incredulously, a laugh of disbelief immediately following his words.

You only hum in response, fiddling with the clasp of his belt, nothing but your feverish urgency guiding you. Nanami does little to stop your advances. In fact, part of him can’t stop himself from helping you as his slender, manicured hands are sliding down to take the belt off for you. Soon, the zipper of his dark gray slacks is being tugged down, eventually revealing the prominent tent beneath the fabric of his Calvin Klein briefs.

Nanami’s breath hitches discernibly when you pull at his waistband, unsheathing his swollen cock. The blushing tip drips with precum, kissing his head in a slick mess. His fruitless protests were long forgotten, somewhere so far gone, never to be seen again. And from the looks of it, Nanami’s body is working against him and he can’t find it within himself to stop it.

You don’t miss the way he sucks in a tight breath, exhaling a shaky whimper as the cool draft of the lecture hall kisses the swollen head of his cock, his chest shuddering with each ensuing breath. Almost instinctively your hand is wrapping around the thick base before languidly dragging your fist up. “You… you said you just wanted to see it– fuck.” He breathes as his lips part, labored breaths falling from his slacked jaw.

“Did I?” You hum, feign confusion dripping from your tone as you loll out your tongue, pretty rivulets of saliva spilling from it, coating the head of his cock in a lewd, glossy sheen. Nanami can only nod slightly, mouth wide as you begin to stroke him again with the slick of your saliva. He’s rolling his hips forward, chasing your fleeting touch.

You smile sweetly, “I must've forgotten.”

With your wide eyes boring holes, you inhale deeply before slowly lowering your head onto him, taking him into your honeyed mouth with a hum of satisfaction. He’s sweet, almost like a bitter honey. Your eyes flutter shut as you swallow around him, gagging sweetly as the tip of his cock brushes the entrance to your throat.

He’s gasping, face contorting in his overwhelming pleasure as you toy with his heavy balls, your other hand tugging at his pretty cock. “Mmph you can’t just—fuck… w-what if someone sees?” Nanami protests while peering down at you through the fallen strands of blonde that adorn his forehead, his scrunched face blushing with crimson.

Your sweet lips drag along the warm skin of his swollen balls, sloppy kisses left in your wake. “No one comes to your office hours anyway.” You gibe, your teasing hand working steadily at his stiff, drooling length. Nanami gapes in response, his head delirously craning back to dangle over his shoulders, a choked whimper on the tip of his tongue.

He hardly even notices the subconscious spread of his thighs as he accommodates to your keening sense of vehemence. Truthfully, he’d only be lying to himself if he said he hasn’t imagined you on your knees for him just like this. How can he not? Maybe it’s the way you saunter around campus in the skimpiest outfits he has ever seen, your pretty tits and plush thighs on display, practically spilling out of the fabric. Or even the way you ‘accidentally’ email him files of the most debauched images of yourself.

But, Professor!Kento isn’t blameless. He definitely shouldn’t have saved those files so that he could slowly construct his own corrupt file of you — a handpicked selection of your most sacred parts, stored away on his work laptop. Between classes he finds himself growing achingly hard at the fleeting thought of you tucked beneath his desk with his cock against your tongue, pathetically stifling his moans as he grades quizzes for his unsuspecting students.

Oh, and there were the videos too...

He can vividly describe them from memory. In fact, the video that made his cock the hardest was the one of you in your dorm room, slouched against your headboard, completely bare with your legs spread as you ran your slick fingers between your swollen lips. The flashback of the camera even caught the subtle gleam of your arousal, gossamers of your essence stretching and snapping between your fingers like shiny, mouthwatering cobwebs.

With your phone propped against a stuffed animal, you huffed out small breaths and moans as you shamelessly groped your tits. Mouth gaped as you tugged at your hardened nipples, rolling them between the pads of your fingers.

Over and over again, Nanami replayed that video, shamelessly zooming into your pretty pussy to get a better view of the way your sloppy hole swallowed your fingers, imagining it was him instead. He even synced his moans with yours as he fucked his hand that night, shiny beads of precum slipping from the angry head of his cock and dribbling down his nimble fingers.

And of course you claimed that you must’ve mistaken the file for your thesis. You’d think after the third time you’d learn not to keep your nudes in the same vicinity as your schoolwork... right?

Whoops.

“I see the way you look at me, Mr. Kento… you’re a smart man but not very discreet” you taunt, twisting your wrist slightly as you near the head, an incredulous gasp tumbling past his lips, “wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew.”

He’s whimpering wantonly as he bucks his hips toward your face, gaunt knuckles turning a pale white as he grips the armrests of his swiveling leather chair. “It’s not my f— fault, y’know that…” he breathes.

The smile that mars your face is almost sick, your slick lips curling into the most bewitched grin he has ever seen. It nearly has him spilling cum all over your pretty face with a guttural groan and a stutter of his hips.

“Guess it’s also not your fault that you lecture a room full of students with this cock hard like that either, right? Don’t even care enough to cover yourself up when you teach… must want everyone to know.” You're not letting up, your fist tightening slightly as you force precum from the swollen head of his cock. Warm, pearlescent beads drip in rivulets down your slick fingers.

You lean forward, darting your tongue out to chase his seed as he runs down your knuckles. The wet, hot muscle drags along your fist as you collect his arousal. “Mmm my professor’s gettin’ soo wet for me… look at the mess you’re making,” you observe as you smear the remaining precum along his cock. “wonder what my friends’ll think when I tell them… they’ll be so mad at me. M’always talkin’ about you y’know.” You giggle girlishly, admitting to your slight infatuation.

He throbs in your hand at your honeyed words, the vein that runs along the underside of his of his cock swollen and pulsating as you beckon him toward an inevitable orgasm. “Oh, fuuuck…” Nanami gasps, eyebrows furrowing as he struggles to engage in your repartee, “m’gonna cum if you keep talkin’ to me like that… knew you had a nasty little mouth.” He admits.

You can’t help the fruitless clamp of your thighs at his comment, arousal seeping from your cunt, ruining your pretty laced panties. As you take him back into your mouth with a soft moan, swallowing around him like it’s the last meal you’ll ever have, the subtle roll of your hips as you attempt to relieve yourself doesn't go unnoticed.

Nanami thinks you’re the prettiest thing ever, like nothing he’s ever seen. He’s not entirely sure what it is about you that makes all the blood in his body rush for the head of his cock. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so bright, sharp-witted, and unlike many of his other students, you care about your life beyond university. Or it could even be the simple fact that he’s so deeply infatuated with you. Almost to the point it physically pains him.

More often than not, he’ll catch himself scanning the classroom for you before his lessons, hoping to find you in a row close to the front. When he eventually spots you, shamelessly, his gaze envelops you, mind racing as he imagines all the depraved things he’d do if given half the chance. God, especially the days you come to class repping your school’s apparel in those godforsaken athletic shorts from the university bookstore, the curve of your ass peeking from beneath.

You don’t ever mind when he keeps you well after class is over, commending you for your hard work and impressive grades, accompanied by lingering glances and fleeting touches. It’s hard to ignore the sickening sense of attraction you feel toward him. Maybe because he’s the answer to your most impure fantasies.

Nanami’s stomach knots when you peer up at him from between his legs, your sweet eyes like daggers. “Want you to cum in my mouth… on my tongue,” you’re humming sweetly as you loll out you tongue, his leaking head resting snuggly against it, “I’ll swallow it all.” You’re gently tapping him on the plush center of your tongue now, encouraging his looming orgasm.

His hips stutter as you jerk his cock against your tongue, all of his pretty boy moans and sighs of pleasure like kindle to a flame. “Yeah, f— fuck, yes… want me to cum in that p-pretty mouth?” He groans.

You nod eagerly before sitting higher up on your knees, preparing yourself to swallow everything he has to offer. Nanami gasps when his cock begins to twitch against your tongue. The vibration of your pleasured hums and coos is what's forcing several warm, translucent spurts of cum down the back of your slutty little throat.

His mouth gapes as you swallow it all just like you promised. You even stick out your clean tongue afterwards as proof. Nanami is bewildered as his chest heaves. “What the fuck.” He whispers more to himself than anything.

He watches intently as you clean yourself up, readjusting your disheveled hair and clothes before gathering your scattered textbooks and belongings. You sling your backpack over your shoulders before awkwardly looking down at your feet, “Uh, I’ll be late for physics… see you tomorrow?” You question.

He nods understandably. “What time are you done with classes today?”

“4:30.”

He grins wickedly. “Meet me back here at 4:45… wanna show you somethin’ else.”

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Just camping and getting a bit tipsy with soft!boyfriend!Simon. Simon just wants to hold and annoy his pretty girlfriend while you just want to cuddle and try and warm up a bit from the cold.

You’re out camping with Simon and everything’s nice- everything’s peaceful. Your site is tucked relatively far back on the loop so the two of you have a nice illusion of privacy. You spend the day lazing around in hammocks and sitting by the fire, just enjoying the outdoors. But then, as the sun sets and the cheekily snuck in flask of liquor gets passed back and forth, the air cools and the two of you retreat into your tent.

Despite what the name would suggest, two people don’t comfortably fit in a two person tent. The struggle of quickly changing clothes in the cold is made double by the confined space. You both bump arms and nearly knock heads multiple times as you struggle to peel off your layers of clothing. The alcohol loosens your lips enough for you to giggle like a child and poke him back each time it happens.

You peel your shirt off, huffing and rubbing your hands repeatedly over your upper arms to ease the prickly feeling of goose bumps rising from your skin.

Finally, you manage to find your pajama shirt and pull it on. You grab your phone from the pocket of your discarded jeans and crawl into your sleeping bag, looking down to see Simon ready for bed but busy with one of the LED tent lanterns.

Your teeth chatter and you whine as you find the inside of the sleeping bag to be just as cold as the air outside of it. You reach one hand out of the bag to smack at the ground, urging Simon to hurry up and get in! You’re cold! Only for him to huff in amusement and go back to replacing the batteries in the tent lantern.

After a few more dramatic huffs and plays for his attention, he smiles, putting back the plastic panel that hides the batteries before switching the light on and off to test if it was working. Satisfied by the flash of light produced, he puts it up in the top pocket of the tent, crawling over to the opening of the sleeping bag and pressing a kiss to your head before teasing you for your impatience.

“No need to throw a fit, I’m coming.” He says, grinning as he slides into the sleeping bag with you. “Now come here, I need my hand warmer.” He says quietly into your ear, right before reaching under your shirt to grab you by the waist with two large, strong, ice-cold hands and yank you towards him.

He anticipated your shriek and attempts to squirm away, wrapping his arms fully around your waist to hold you from behind and taking time to press his cold hands to each inch of warm skin he could find.

You squawked and squabbled, somewhat uncoordinated from the combination of tiredness and alcohol muddling your brain- yet still flailing and trying to wiggle your way free. Simon put his head on your shoulder and hummed in contentment, the action only serving to spur you on further.

“You were supposed to warm me up! Not stick your icicle hands under my shirt!!” You say, trying to worm your hand between his and your stomach.

“Hmm, too bad.” Simon says back, his hand turning to lace your fingers together before he flips you around and pulls you back against his chest. He nuzzles at the top of your head, and you catch a breath of the faint smell of alcohol from earlier. Still holding your hand with your fingers interlaced with his, he squeezes you tight. “Guess you’re just gonna have to be the one to warm me up tonight, sorry love.”

[deezee112]

The worst ending 2 : A Laugh Too Far

The worst ending 1 | The worst ending 3

Yandere!Ace Trappola x GN!Reader

A/N : Hello! Thank you for sticking with this second installment of the series! I'd like to say that this episode is a little better for me, but it's still a little bit too much 😔 But I will try my best at the end of the next chapter. Enjoy reading this chapter!!

Warning : This story contains themes of emotional dependency , psychological strain , accidental death , and overwhelming guilt. , A soft yandere.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

You tilted your head, considering the name carefully. The doll before you blinked its sharp amber eyes, a mischievous glint already visible in its eerily lifelike expression. Something about him seemed playful yet challenging a troublemaker waiting to be unleashed.

“ I’ll name you Ace ” you said finally, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

The doll smiled back, wide and crooked, as if approving of you choice.

From the beginning, Ace was different. Where other children or dolls, as you reminded you self in the early days might show tentative affection or shy obedience, Ace was bold and irreverent.

“ Why do I have to learn math? ” he whined one afternoon, slumping against the couch with exaggerated dramatics.

“ Because it’s important ” You replied, your voice firm but tinged with weariness.

“ Important for what? I’m not planning on becoming an accountant ” he shot back, grinning cheekily.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “ You’re going to drive me insane, Ace. ”

“ That’s the goal ” he said, leaning closer with a sly smile.

Despite his antics, you couldn’t help but feel a grudging affection for the boy. Beneath his teasing exterior, Ace had a charm that was hard to ignore. He was quick witted and curious, always testing boundaries but never pushing too far at least, not at first.

But as Ace grew, so did his confidence. He loved pushing you buttons, watching you react with exasperation or an occasional smirk.

“ You love me. ” he’d declare smugly after one of their verbal sparring matches.

“ Don’t flatter yourself. ” your reply, rolling you eyes.

But deep down, you know he was right.

You relationship was a constant tug of war between irritation and affection. Ace’s teasing could be relentless, but it was always accompanied by a boyish grin that made it impossible for you to stay mad for long.

“ You're so annoying. ” you said one evening as he stood behind you while you cooked.

“ Annoying? I prefer ‘charming’ ” he quipped, snatching a piece of carrot from the cutting board.

“ You’re lucky I don’t chase you out of this kitchen. ”

“ You wouldn’t do that. ” he said confidently. “ You’d miss me too much. ”

You shot him a glare, but there was no malice behind it. Ace was infuriating, yes, but he had become an integral part of your life.

As Ace grew older, his teasing took on a sharper edge. He still smiled and laughed, but there was an intensity in his eyes that hadn’t been there before a possessiveness that made you uneasy.

One evening, as you sat on the couch watching a movie, Ace suddenly turned to you.

“ Why do you work so much? ” he asked, his tone unusually serious.

You blinked, caught off guard. “ Because I have to. That’s what adults do. ”

“ But you’re always tired. ” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “ You should spend more time with me instead! ”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. “ You’re clingy, you know that? ”

His expression darkened slightly, but he quickly masked it with a grin. “ Only because you’re my favorite person. ”

It was an ordinary day, one filled with the usual back-and-forth banter between you and Ace. You was preparing dinner , humming softly to youself , while Ace lounged at the kitchen table , spinning a knife absentmindedly between his fingers a habit that always made you nervous.

“ Ace, put that down before you hurt yourself. ” you said without looking up.

“ I’m not a kid anymore, y/n.” he replied, his tone teasing but laced with something heavier.

“ You’ll always be a kid to me. ” you retorted, glancing at him with a smirk.

He grinned, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes something vulnerable, almost desperate.

“ Do you mean that? ” he asked quietly.

“ Mean what? ”

“ That I’ll always be your kid.. ”

His smile faltered, and for a moment, he looked like a child again uncertain and scared. But the moment passed quickly, and he leaned back in his chair, his usual cocky grin returning.

You paused, you hands stilling as you turned to face him fully. “ Of course, Ace. You’ll always be my little troublemaker. ”

“ Good... ” he said.

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to process it. One moment, you was teasing Ace about his messy handwriting as they sat together at the table. The next, he was holding the knife again, flipping it between his fingers like a dangerous game.

“ Ace, stop it. ” you said, you voice sharper than usual.

“ calm down, I’ve got this ” he replied, laughing.

But in his attempt to show off, the knife slipped from his hand, spinning through the air. You didn’t think you just reacted, lunging forward to catch it before it hit the ground.

You caught the blade, but not by the handle.

The sharp edge sliced through you palm, and you gasped in pain, dropping it immediately. Blood pooled in you hand, dripping onto the floor.

“ y/n! ” Ace’s voice was high-pitched with panic as he rushed to you side.

“ I’m fine.. ” you said through gritted teeth, though you face was pale.

“ No, you’re not! ” he said, his voice trembling. He grabbed a dish towel and pressed it against your hand, his movements frantic.

But in his panic, he didn’t notice the chair leg behind him. As he tried to steady you , he tripped , pulling you down with him.

Her head struck the corner of the table with a sickening crack.

“ y/n..? ” Ace’s voice was shaky as he knelt beside you. “ Hey, wake up. This isn’t funny! ”

You eyes fluttered open, but you gaze was unfocused. Blood trickled down the side of you face, staining you hair and pooling on the floor.

“ Ace.. ” you whispered, you voice weak.

“ I’m here. ” he said quickly, his hands shaking as he cradled you head. “ You’re gonna be okay. I’ll call for help. Just—just stay with me.. ”

You gave him a faint smile, you fingers brushing against his cheek. “ You’re such a troublemaker. ”

“ Stop talking like that! ” he shouted, his voice breaking. “ You’re gonna be fine! You have to be fine! ”

Your hand fell limp, and Ace’s breath hitched. “ No. No, no, no, no! ”

Tears streamed down his face as he clutched you close, rocking back and forth. “ I didn’t mean it! ” he sobbed. “ I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to notice me. To love me. ”

You didn’t respond. you chest no longer rose and fell.

“ y/n… ” His voice cracked as he buried his face in you shoulder. “ I’m sorry. Please come back. Please… ”

Ace sat alone in the dimly lit kitchen, you blood still staining the floor. The knife lay where it had fallen, mocking him with its cold, unfeeling presence.

“ I didn’t mean it.. ” he whispered to himself, over and over, as if the words could undo what had happened.

But no matter how many times he said it, you wasn’t coming back.

He looked down at you hands, trembling and stained with you blood. “ You were the only one who cared.. ” he murmured, his voice hollow. “ The only one who put up with me. And I…I ruined it. ”

Ace never left the house after that day. He couldn’t bear to face the world without you, the person who had been his anchor, his guide, his everything.

The laughter , the teasing , the arguments they were all gone. And in their place was a crushing silence that Ace couldn’t escape.

“ You were right... ” he said one day, his voice echoing in the empty room. “ I am annoying. ”

He laughed bitterly, tears streaming down his face.

[spacesquidlings]

Catnap

With so much on her mind, how was she supposed to sleep? Everyday chores and her day jobs aside, there was still the matter of Xavier's curse, leaving little time for her to rest. But Xavier thinks differently, and he knows exactly what to do to persuade her to rest.

Pairing: Xavier x MC Tags: Fluff, established relationship, yes cat caretaker event

Notes: If I'm honest Xavier's "kitty" design was my favourite, I loooove ragdoll kitties they're so cute and fluffy. Anyways, here's a fluffy Xavier who I think needs some cuddles too! <3

The sizzling of butter and onions frying was a melody, the savoury smell pairing like a harmony as it wafted through the apartment. But even such music could not keep her mind from drifting off.

Her eyes were heavy as lead, and it was a battle to open them each time they slid shut. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and she swayed from side-to-side, unable to keep herself balanced, like she was slowly drifting away on ocean waves.

The wooden spoon she held nearly slipped from her grasp, splattering melted butter and half-fried onion slices all over the floor.

“Get a grip,” she muttered, tightening her hold on the handle. There was so much she still needed to do, she couldn’t afford to fall asleep.

But the kitchen was too quiet, and the heat from the stove was draining the last of her energy away. She was melting wax, slowly losing the strength to stay upright and pooling on the floor below.

Maybe she just needed a distraction. Maybe if she just had someone to talk to, or help her with a few chores, she would be able to rouse herself.

Just as quickly as the idea came to her, though, she winced. There was really only one person she wanted to see right now, but that could lead to disaster. Xavier was always so calm, and warmth radiated from him like the light forever spilling from a star. All it would take was one look at him and the last of her resolve would crumple.

She had all the strength of a wet piece of paper when it came to him, and she would want to fall into his arms the moment he walked in. He would probably open his arms to her, and the slow pulse of his heart and the softness of whatever sweater or cardigan he was wearing and the surety of his arms would make her forget about everything she still had to do.

And of course there was the other disaster that could happen. Maybe he wouldn’t try and coax her to rest, maybe instead he would try to help her cook, and set the entire kitchen on fire in the process.

Still, she tentatively called out to him, deciding the risks were worth it, and did she even care if the food burned at this point?

“Xavier?”

She was greeted with silence, only the sizzle and pop of the butter in the frying pan echoing in the air.

She tried again, a little louder this time. “Xavier?”

Usually he would have responded by now, and ever since he’d been cursed his hearing had only gotten keener. He’d been able to hear her from across a busy store when they’d gone out for groceries a few days ago, ears twitching from catching the sound of her voice and a sly smile on his lips as he dumped an armload of family-value packages of meat into the shopping cart.

Confused, she turned off the stove and moved the pan off the heat. Hadn’t he just been up, flipping through his comic books trying to decide if he wanted to read something or play the new video game she’d gotten him?

“Baby?” She padded from the kitchen, searching for her wayward boyfriend.

She did not have to search far, finding him curled up on the couch, fluffy cat tail draped over his stomach like a blanket.

“Ah.” She allowed herself a rueful smile. She should have known he would be asleep, especially after such a long day.

She might have been working two different jobs and trying to figure out how to lift the curse, but Xavier was the one who was actually cursed. His fluffy tail and silken ears weren’t the only testament to his curse, his behaviour seeming more and more feline with every passing day.

The cat naps growing more and more frequent than they had even before he’d been cursed. His sudden cravings for fish. The way he watched birds a little too closely out the window.

She was starting to worry that she would wake up one day to see a fluffy white cat in place of her boyfriend.

Sighing, she brushed his bangs back from his brow, feeling the feathery-softness of the strands against her skin. He always acted so calm and relaxed, but still she worried. It was hard to read the feelings hidden behind the azure of his eyes. Always so still and calm as a quiet lake touched by starlight, but what did he hide in the shadows where the light did not touch?

She didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to be selfish and rouse him when he was tired. Instead, she unfolded the pink polkadot blanket draped over the back of the couch, carefully tucking it around him to keep him warm.

“I hope you’re dreaming of catnip and fish,” she breathed, smiling as he sighed in his sleep. “Rest well, love.”

Heading back to the kitchen, she tried to resolve herself. She needed to focus, she needed to be strong. She needed to stay awake long enough to finish cooking their dinner. Then there was the laundry, and she needed to book grooming appointments for all of the cats at the café, and-

She had only just taken up the wooden spoon again, flicking on the stove to resume cooking, the butter already congealing in the pan. Her mind strayed from all the tasks she needed to do, wondering instead whether pan-fried beef was too ambitious, if something as simple as grilled cheese would be enough. She could still use the onions, and add them with a little ham into the sandwiches, and didn’t they have some fancy cheese left from the market they’d been to before this whole fiasco had started-

Her entire train of thought was derailed as arms came around her waist, a warm head falling against her shoulder.

“Ah!” It was instinct more than anything, shrieking as she dropped the wooden spoon with a clatter on the floor.

“It’s just me,” Xavier said, his words little more than a sigh.

She did her best to turn in his arms to face him, but his hold was like iron, and all she could manage was a twist of her head so her words were murmured against the top of his head as he nuzzled his face into her neck. “What’s going on, baby? I thought you were sleeping?”

“I was hoping you’d come lie down with me,” he mumbled. He spoke so slowly, his voice thick with sleep. She wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep on her while he was still standing.

She drew back, surprise like a static shock. “You were faking?”

“Well…” She could feel his bashful smile against her skin. “I was half-asleep, but I thought you’d come lie down with me.”

“Oh baby, I wish I could,” she sighed. And she really did wish she could. Taking a nap with him sounded heavenly, but there was so much to do. She needed to stay awake.

“Then come with me.” He rubbed his face against the side of her neck, running his nose down over her shoulder. “I sleep better when I’m with you.”

He spoke with such softness, his words like sun-warmed honey. She could feel them dancing in her mind, feel their sunshine in her veins.

“I have so many things I need to do,” she argued. But it was a tepid riposte at best. She didn’t want to cook or do the chores. She only wanted to melt into his arms and forget about everything for a little while.

He hummed, his arms tightening around her. She felt his fingers twisting into the fabric of her shirt at her sides, felt the feathery softness of his ears tickling her cheek as they twitched. “What kind of things?”

The corners of her lips trembled; his words buzzed against her skin, making her bite back bubbling giggles. Distantly, she wondered if he knew, if he was doing it on purpose to tease her.

“I have to make dinner,” she said. She breathed deep, trying to keep her focus. “And I have to do laundry, and I have to make grooming appointments for the cats. And we’re almost out of the chicken wet food so I need to order more of that, and the bathroom needs to be cleaned.”

Just to name a few. She shook her head, wilting. She felt like a wildflower in a drought, withering into a husk beneath unrelenting heat. “There’s just so much.”

And she didn’t want to ask him to help, didn’t want to burden him. He had been cursed, he didn’t need to clean the toilet, too.

But Xavier grumbled in displeasure. He lifted his head, and she caught his frown from the corner of her eye, a pursing of his lips that looked an awful lot like a pout and a wrinkling of his nose as his brows drew together.

“We can do those things tomorrow together,” he murmured. He spoke soft as a lullaby, even as he argued with her. “You don’t need to do everything on your own.”

“Xavier-”

“Please?” He nuzzled his nose against her jaw, his breath warm as it feathered over her skin. “Lie down with me now, and we can handle everything else tomorrow.”

“What about dinner? We can’t handle that tomorrow.” Her voice squeaked as she scrabbled at her self-control.

He chuckled, rubbing his nose along the line of her jaw. “Easy. We can order something for when we wake up.”

“But what about the laundry, and the kitties, and the cleaning, and-”

“-And it can wait.” His lips grazed over her skin now, and she felt the scrape of his teeth as he brought his mouth over her neck again.

She whined wordlessly, staring down at the uncooked butter and onions, what was quickly becoming a fruitless endeavour. Gauzy-winged butterflies fluttered through her chest, her own heart stumbling like a toddler learning to walk.

“Please, my darling?”

She could feel her resolve crumbling away as Xavier plied her with his soft words. She was about as strong as an overbaked cookie, falling apart at the slightest touch.

When she did not truly respond, Xavier only nestled closer. She felt him sigh, the heave of his chest, the tickle of his breath warming her skin. The heart continued to trip and stumble, faster now, beating as wildly as hummingbird wings, and she wondered if he could feel it as he held her.

Something soft brushed against her side, and she looked down to see his fluffy tail wrapped around her waist, holding her all the closer.

“I’ll let you pet my tail,” he breathed, a playful lilt in his voice.

“Xav-”

A pleasant rumbling sounded from behind her, reverberating into the hollows of her bones. It caught her so off-guard she stopped talking, her argument dying on her tongue.

The feeling continued to vibrate through her, a warmth like the first touch of sunshine in the dawn sky staining her heart. It was soothing, and her mind drifted all too easily as his purrs enveloped her.

“Xavier,” she started, doing her best to force ire into her tone. “Are you manipulating me?”

“No I’m not.”

But his smile gave him away, curving up like a crescent moon against her skin.

It was the final straw; she couldn’t find a reason to argue any longer, to hold out against him when he was so warm and comfy and now he was purring just from holding her.

“Fine,” she grumbled, sagging back against his chest. “You win. I’ll lie down with you.”

His smile hiked higher, and in one swift movement he swept her up into his arms like a princess, dropping a chaste kiss to her brow.

“I’m glad you’ve finally seen reason,” he teased, mischief in his eyes. “Now we can both rest.”

She wanted to argue, but the last of her energy was quickly falling away. All she managed was an eyeroll, but she wasn’t sure Xavier even noticed as he carted her back to the living room, too distracted by his delight at his impending nap.

“There,” he said, settling himself on the couch, nestling her on his chest. “That’s much better.”

“Well… Almost…” She smiled up at him as he draped his arms around her sides, his eyes  falling shut. “But didn’t you promise you’d let me pet your tail?”

Now he was the one rolling his eyes, but he indulged her, his tail curling around her. She ran her fingers through the soft fur, finally letting herself relax. “Now that’s better.”

Xavier chuckled, pulling the blanket over them both. “I’m glad I was able to convince you.”

Already she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, the steady beating of his heart and the gentle way he cradled her against his chest making sleep come for her all the faster. She cuddled his tail like it was a plushie, resting her cheek over where his heart thrummed. Feeling safe, content.

Everything would be alright. They would handle all the worries that had been plaguing her together.

She gave him a sleepy smile, stretching her neck up to brush a kiss to his jaw. “I’m glad you convinced me, too.”

Her eyes were already closed when she settled her head back on his chest, but she could picture the smile that curved across his lips as he began purring again. And it was that gentle reverberation, and the thought of his starlit smile, that followed after her as she slipped into oblivion.

[part-time-zombie]

Love Is A Strong Word

pairings: intrulogical

summary: Logan has definitely grown very fond of Remus as of late, and decides it would be a good idea to tell him that. Remus' reaction isn't exactly the most encouraging one, though, and Logan is left trying to figure out what it is that could have upset him.

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, miscommunication, does it count as miscommunication if nothing was really said?

word count: 3400

Logan hadn’t realized it at first. He had always liked the silence, that peaceful absence of noise that lulled him into a gentle tranquility. It became something he almost coveted, since quiet moments were a true rarity in the Mindscape.

Lately, however, he was less eager to be away from the sounds.

Or one sound in particular.

Remus sat across from him as he tore into his breakfast, the metal spoon loudly scraping against the ceramic bowl and creating a cacophonous noise that Logan found he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. Then again, a lot has changed lately, especially with him. Him, and also Remus.

He can’t quite recall exactly how it started, or why, but he and Remus had somehow managed to form a tentative truce some time ago. One that eventually formed into something closer to a friendship of sorts, difficult as it was to comprehend.

Maybe friendship wasn’t the best word for… whatever this was with them. A partnership maybe, or a companionship. One may even be daring enough to call it a relationship, though Logan had no idea which kind it would be.

It wasn’t exactly professional, nor was it familial. Platonic, maybe, but he didn’t feel like this about the other sides. Sure, he worked with them, and got along and enjoyed their company, but it just wasn’t the same thing. It was hard to understand, and even harder to explain, but this…

This was something else.

It wasn’t just Logan having fun when Remus was around, it was also a sense of contentment. When given the choice between time alone and time with Remus, Logan found himself choosing the latter far more often than the former. Remus could still give Logan cause for concern with his antics, but lately he had also been feeling concerned for him. He would notice if Remus was quieter than normal and see if something was troubling him, or make sure he’s eaten well enough today.

He cared about Remus, not exactly more so than the other sides, but definitely in a different way than with them. This was personal, this was intimate, this was…

This was love.

Logan… loved Remus.

The most startling part of this revelation, however, that that it was hardly startling at all. It felt natural, as easy and effortless as the act of breathing. Logan wondered how he hadn’t felt this way about him sooner, or if he always had and only realized it now.

A nudge against his leg from under the table brought Logan back into focus, not even aware of how much his mind had wandered until that moment.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Remus teased.

Logan felt himself flush. He hadn’t even realized he had been smiling, but it made sense that he would have been, considering what was on his mind.

“I must have lost track of myself for a moment,” Logan simply replied.

“Well are you gonna tell me what you were thinking about, or do I get three guesses?”

Logan considered that for a moment. Admitting he was in love with someone was awfully uncharacteristic of himself, but then again, Remus had always encouraged him to be more open with how he was feeling, coaxing out his pent up frustrations and his long-dormant passions with an encouraging smile. He insisted Logan tell him whatever he was thinking or feeling, no matter what it was that was on his mind. Remus offered no judgement for anything he said, only reception.

Maybe… maybe Logan can share this with him, too.

“I love you, Remus.”

Logan had a myriad of expectations regarding how Remus would respond.

He worried Remus might laugh at him for being a sentimental sap, or condescendingly tell him how much he sounds like Patton when he says gross things like that, or even just awkwardly explain that he’s sorry but that isn’t really something that Remus does.

He hoped Remus would let out a victorious whoop before leaping over the table and pulling him into one of his now all-too familiar hugs, shouting a gleeful “about time!” as they held each other on the kitchen floor, or maybe flush and respond with shy smile and a quiet “same to you”.

He most certainly didn’t expect for Remus to freeze entirely, a spoonful of cereal made with water stopping about halfway from his still-open mouth. He didn’t expect the hand still on the table to curl into a fist and start shaking from how tightly it was clenched. He certainly didn’t expect Remus to stop breathing.

“Remus? Are you alright?”

Remus didn’t move or say anything. He only blinked once, twice, thrice.

Logan tentatively placed a hand on his trembling fist. “Remus?”

Remus flinched, jerking his hand away and dropping his spoon with a choked gasp.

“You can’t say that,” he muttered, standing from his chair and rushing back to his room.

Logan sat in his chair, unable to do anything but watch him go. He wanted more than anything to follow him and make sure he was okay, or even just ask him what happened, but he knows Remus prefers to be alone when he’s upset and it would be better not to disturb him further.

He’d already disturbed him enough by the looks of it.

What happened to make him react like that? Did Logan say it wrong somehow? Did Remus just not feel the same?

It wasn’t exactly disgust or mockery, going by the look on his face.

It almost looked like terror.

But that couldn’t be right. Remus feared nothing, loudly priding himself on that any chance he got. He was unafraid, unashamed, and effortlessly self-assured in a way that Logan always admired. Nothing could frighten Remus, nothing could disturb him.

So why did he look like he wanted to run for his life? Why did he shy away from Logan touching him like he thought it would hurt? Why was he so shaken from this?

Logan kept running the events through his head and only came up with more questions. He wanted to ask Remus all of them, but if he was uncomfortable with him now then Logan wouldn’t try and pester him further. He needed space right now, Logan understood and respected that.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t worried.

Remus didn’t handle things well when they bothered him. If a jar wouldn’t open, he’d smash it. If a project wasn’t working, he’d set it on fire.

Logan was almost afraid to wonder what he’d do because of this.

Logan didn’t see Remus for the rest of the day, and every hour that passed only made him feel worse. The other sides had all come downstairs and had their own breakfasts by now, with most of them sneering at the now soggy remains of Remus’ leftover breakfast and the rest shaking their heads in disapproving dismissal. Logan felt sick to his stomach at the memory of when he would have reacted that way.

Was that it? Has Remus refused to forgive Logan for how he treated him in the past?

Sure, the others have been far worse, but Logan had a hand in his neglect too. It’s not like he can just expect those wounds to heal overnight, and even when they did heal, it didn’t mean Logan would be forgiven for causing them.

It didn’t mean Remus had to love him back.

Why would Remus love him at all, anyway? Logan was rude, and boring, and everything Remus hated. There was no way anything like this would have worked out well between them. This was order growing attached to chaos, a clear day looking for storms, an office building longing for graffiti. He should have known better than to foolishly get his hopes up like that. There was a reason that he told Thomas that love was a strong word, after all.

Now that he said it, though, it was a lot harder for him to unsay it.

How could he be expected to stop feeling this now that he knew what it was? Remus had helped him pull all of those trapped emotions to the surface, and there was no way he’d be able to force them back down again even if Remus wanted him to.

Did Remus want him to? Did he not want this from him? Did he want them to not feel anything for each other, to just treat their relationship like an unexpected accident and nothing more?

It certainly hadn’t been planned; Logan hadn’t realized what he was feeling or even that he was feeling until it was too late to do anything about it.

What could he do about it? He knew he couldn’t just stop feeling this, and even if he could he really didn’t want to. He’d almost forgotten how wonderful it could be to feel things, and he’d rather not go back to what it was like before if he could help it.

Maybe he could just not do anything about them, letting himself fawn over Remus in private while ensuring he never brought it up around him again.

It would be difficult, but it would be worth it if that was what would make Remus smile again.

Logan woke in the middle of the night to the feeling of eyes on him. He turned, switching on the light, to see Remus staring at him from the corner of his room.

For anyone else, this may have been a troubling sight. They may fear an attack or a vicious prank of sorts, but Logan knew Remus well enough to recognize that this was just his way of seeking out comfort when he was having trouble asking for it directly. He’s had plenty of visits like this by now, waking up to Remus lurking from a distance until he was welcomed closer. These visits usually lead to Remus cozying up to him and muttering broken details of whatever the problem was.

This was the first time Logan knew he was what had been upsetting him.

Logan made some room in his bed and patted the mattress invitingly, and in mere moments Remus had scurried over to him and crawled under the covers, clinging to Logan like a lifeline.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asked.

Remus gave him a shrug and a grunt, but at least it was a response. If he did nothing at all Logan would have been doubly worried; it was never good when Remus went wholly unresponsive.

“Are you alright with some ‘yes or no’ questions?”

A nod.

“Alright. Do you feel better now than before?”

Another nod as Remus burrowed his head into Logan’s chest.

“Is it anything I can help you with?”

Remus paused for a moment before shrugging.

“Will you be able to talk about it, even if it’s not right now?”

“…I can talk about it.”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Logan offered.

“I do, I do, I just-“ Remus took a moment to sit up, with Logan quickly doing the same. “I just don’t know how to start, is all.”

Logan hummed in understanding, watching as Remus folded his knees to his chest and idly rocked back and forth on his bed. Really, Logan was just relieved that he had come to him tonight. He hadn’t seen Remus all day, and he had started to fear that he may avoid him for far longer. If Remus was willing to see him then maybe he hadn’t fully ruined things between them. At least, not yet.

“This is because of what I said over breakfast, right?”

Remus let out a half chuckle. “I just don’t get it.”

Logan tried not to think about the knot-like feeling in his chest. “What don’t you get?”

“All of it. What you said, but mostly just why you said it. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“I said it because I meant it,” Logan explained. “Is that alright?”

“No.” then, “Yes. Maybe, I don’t know.” Remus sighed. “I’m not really sure what to do about it.”

Logan inched closer to him, until he could place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Remus stopped rocking, now eyeing the hand like it was some foreign thing he couldn’t comprehend.

“You don’t have to do anything about it,” Logan told him. “I just wanted to tell you; however you feel about it is perfectly fine.”

“But why did you want to tell me?”

Logan hated not having a clear answer for that. Everything always made sense for him; he often prided himself on his ability to break down even the most obscure concepts into simple teachings that anyone could understand, but these feelings were beyond even his own understanding.

If he couldn’t understand them, he had no idea how he would be able to explain them.

The silence stretched on for far too long, until Remus sighed and shrugged Logan’s hand off his shoulder.

“Nevermind, forget it,” he grumbled, looking away. “It’s bullshit anyway.”

Logan ignored the hurt he felt as Remus shuffled out of his reach. “What is?”

Remus let out a scoff. “Everything. Me, you, that stuff you said you think you feel about me. All of it.”

Logan could only watch as Remus’ walls came back up, ones he hadn’t seen in a long time and ones that he didn’t even realized had fallen in the first place. He looked cold and hardened now, his eyes sharp and distant. He looked like how he was when Logan first saw him, back when they didn’t really know each other. He looked like he thought Logan was a stranger.

“Remus, I really do love you,” he started. “I know I’m not the best at expressing feelings like this, but I promise you I know what it is I feel about you.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Remus let out a huff. “Don’t say that, okay? Not about me, and not to me. You just can’t.”

“Why not?”

Remus rolled his empty eyes. “Because it isn’t true. I know it isn’t, and if anyone’s gonna fuckin’ lie to me I’d rather it be from Janus because at least I can expect it when it’s coming from him.”

Logan was stunned. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “…Do you really think that I was lying?”

“I hoped not, but it makes sense. Why else would you say it? ‘Cuz it’s the truth?” Remus shook his head. “Please. If it were ever true then you wouldn’t have been the first.”

“First what?”

Remus looked away, blinking for the first time in what felt like ages. “First to ever say it to me.”

It felt like the whole world had stopped spinning at that moment.

“Has no one told you that they love you before?” Logan whispered.

Remus appeared smaller now, the cold sharpness he wore looking almost painful. “Why the hell would they? It wouldn’t be true.”

Logan saw it more clearly now, how the walls weren’t actually walls at all. They were a moat, one Remus had dug himself to force the distance between him and others. Walls could be climbed with the right tools, but moats took more effort.

Had no one ever tried to cross it before?

“But what about Roman, or Patton, or-“

Remus shook his head with a humorless chuckle. “Oh, c’mon. You know that not even Thomas himself would tell me that shit. No one would say it to me because they won’t ever mean it. Patton thinks I’m disgusting, Virgil’s scared to death of me, Janus can’t be bothered, and Roman- “ he stopped and took a breath. “I’m everything he doesn’t want to be.”

Logan’s chest started to burn as he listened. How long had he been holding his breath like this, like he was afraid of taking any effort away from hearing this admission?

“I know I’m shit, so does everyone else. That’s why they all know better than to pretend to care about me.” Remus finally looked back at him, his face startlingly open. “So why did you?”

Of all the times for Logan to draw a figurative blank, this was the worst. He needed to say something now, right now, but more than that he needed to say the right thing. This is the one thing he cannot afford to risk ruining.

Please, let him do this right.

“I told you I love you because I mean it,” he said. “That’s the only reason I say anything, especially something this important. I wish I could find a way to prove it to you, or at least explain it in a way that makes sense, but I’m afraid I doubt it’s possible for me to do that.”

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t something I can explain. I can tell you exactly how and why the act of breathing is effortless and automatic, I can break down the reason behind magnetic attraction and why polar opposites are drawn to each other so instinctively, but I can’t for the life of me find the right words to tell you why loving you is so natural that I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it this whole time.”

Remus stared back at him with wide eyes, almost frozen like he was at the kitchen table. Logan hoped it wasn’t for the same reason.

“Remus, you know I’m telling the truth, right?”

Remus’ bottom lip started to tremble as he slowly crawled closer to Logan, eventually falling into his lap and letting himself be pulled into a warm hug. Logan held him close as he started to shake and clutch his shirt, with tiny gasps escaping every labored breath.

He felt Remus press and nuzzle his face against the crook of his neck like he was trying to crawl into his skin and hide under it as Logan softly rubbed circles into his back and offered comforting squeezes, silently reassuring that he wouldn’t have to try because he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I want to believe you,” Remus mumbled. “I really do. It’s just… no one ever really told me anything like that before, let alone actually meant it. It’s just hard to hear it.”

Logan let out a low breath. “Would it be alright if I kept saying it until you could believe it?”

“You’d be saying it a lot.”

Logan gave a thoughtful hum. “That just means I get to keep trying until I say it right.”

Remus chuckled a little, easing out of the tightly wound tangle of limbs wrapped around the two of them. “I think you said it fine, my ears are just broken.”

“You’re not broken, Remus,” Logan said with a soft smile. “You have no need to blame yourself, not for this. And I truly do love you, and I promise I’ll work to make sure you believe it.”

“And what’ll happen if I do?”

“When you do, I’ll keep loving you just like I do now. I’ll love you even when you try to convince yourself I don’t anymore, because you’re the one who taught me the meaning of the word.”

Remus gave him a watery smile. “I didn’t teach you anything.”

Logan smiled back, something he realized he’d been doing an awful lot around Remus. Not that he minded, it had been a very long time since he’d felt like doing so.

 “Maybe you didn’t plan to, but I learned from you all the same.”

When Remus responded by burying his face against Logan’s skin again, he knew this time wasn’t another attempt at hiding. The brief sight of a hopeful smile and deepening blush Logan got before Remus’ face vanished from his view was confirmation enough that it wasn’t fear anymore.

It was wanting to be closer just for the comfort and contentment of being together. It was finding sanctuary and solace in each other even if at times it felt like nowhere else could be as safe. It was feeling the warmth and weight of this embrace and knowing that they were here together.

It was love.

The two lay there for a moment, leaning against the headrest and simply enjoying each other’s company. Love is far too complex to be easily put into words, but maybe this would be an acceptable way of expressing it when it couldn’t be properly voiced.

“Thank you,” Remus whispered into the silence. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Remus.”

taglist:

@nico-the-overlord @lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @oatmealdaydreams @holdnarrytight @new-zee-land

@keitaisghost @britt-ish123 @rougeside4 @can-i-take-a-stab @yuckypuppie

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

im getting a drawing tablet and considering doing traffic light series tarot cards as one of my practice projects but also. im a little scared bc i dont think DL!Pearl really fits The Moon or 3L!Grian really fits The Sun and i think the fandom might crucify me for that

[britneyshakespeare]

you know i'm also glad i was able to be a long-term sub for a para at the middle school for the last few weeks of the last school year bc once people's typical college semester ended, getting jobs in the sub management software fucking sucked. all these fuckin college kids popped outta nowhere and crept into every corner and everything was like you had to grab it as soon as possible, which is also just the worst bc like, summer is around the corner and that's 2 months where i don't get to earn that regular income.

and i have an odd resentment for the college kids who sub for that short gap between may and june and i dont know why. is it jealousy? is that a proper word for it? morally i know they are doing NOTHING wrong, and if anything they are doing good bc they're ACTUALLY WORKING!!!! like the sub shortages for the rest of the school year is fucking crazy. the few ppl who actually do show up to sub on a regular basis (AKA old retired teachers and me) get pulled in every which way and frequently don't even get a full half-hour break. i guess i just feel like, it must be nice for that job to be a convenient short-term thing for them. bc it's not, for me.

perhaps i feel some sort of pride in being useful and reliable at my shitty little unglamorous poorly-paid job in a public school district. perhaps i do. where were you college students in the dead of february right before the winter break week and peak flu season? huh? where were you? in your DORMITORIES? i bet. well i was here. in the hall

[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[buckyalpine]

You know who'd talk you through it? Bucky. Bucky would talk you through it. I'm feral therefore this is feral. I always say I'm sorry after writing shit like this but this time I'm genuinely sorry, lost sight of the plot.

18+ af, minors dni

I'm gonna finish a wip, I swear, but just imagine for a moment, Bucky being intimate with the most soft shy little bunny ever and learning what she likes based on all the pretty moans and squeals he can pull out of her. He gauges what she's into based on how fucking soaked his balls get from the way she drips on him. Her pussy gets so tight around his dick and he knows whatever he's doing is working because she

She was too scared to tell him anything about what she liked so there was a lot of experimenting in the start. He took it soft and slow at first, basking in how warm her body felt against his, relishing in those quiet sighs she makes when he rolls his hips. For a while he thinks that's as vocal as she gets until a slightly harder thrust of his cock makes her squeak, her cunt clenching around him. His eyes widen at this new found discovery, thrusting harder and harder each time, that squeak turning into a slutty moan.

So she can get louder...

It's become a game for him, talking you through every single orgasm he pulls from you, growing more and more feral over how vocal you are when he does something new.

"Mmph, fuck yeah, that's it baby, moan f'me" He coos as he fucks his fingers in you faster while kneeling in front of you, his own knees keeping yours apart. He's truly playing with your body to his own delight having you naked, legs spread far apart with your pussy on display for him. He loves fingering you because he gets to look at your entire body whither beneath him. Little does he know how crazy it makes you because while he towers over you, eyes raking over your pleasure consumed form, you're admiring him right back. His thick pink cock is so full and hard standing achingly tall. His balls look deliciously heavy and you love the way he uses his knees to keep you spread because he ends up showing off even more of his sac and you are rightfully obsessed.

Your clit makes him drool. It's so perfectly sensitive and he's perfected licking, rubbing and sucking it till your gushing on his face and pulling his hair.

"Y'like that huh baby" He whispers to himself when he rubs faster and you start to claw at his arms, your back arching off the bed, moans growing louder. He watches your reaction like a predator watching it's prey waiting for the perfect moment to let you fall.

"Y-ess" You manage to cry out but Bucky thinks you can do better.

"Y'know what m'gonna do now bunny?" He knows you can't answer but based on the way your clit is throbbing against his fingers your attention is 100% on him. You loved his dirty talking and he's going to keep going until the sheets need to be changed. "M'gonna lick and suck on that pretty little clit of yours, you like that, don't you?"

You frantically nod and he lets out a breathy chuckle, his own cock getting wet at the thought of tasting you.

"Lookit what you do to me" He pulls his hand away making you look down so you can see him squeeze his cockhead, smearing his arousal onto your swollen bud, tears falling from your cheeks from how erotic and dirty he was. He rubs his tip all over not bothering to muffle his own whines and whimpers, "M'so fuckin' sensitive here baby" He'd never miss a chance to edge you both, your most sensitive parts rubbing against each other until he's done teasing. "See how wet you make me bunny? You're not the only one who gets soaked baby, shit you make me so wet"

You can see clear sticky webs clinging from his cockhead to your clit as he continues to tap and rut himself against you, "Don't worry baby, I'll clean up the mess I make"

He goes down between your legs, starting off with tentative licks like a kitten. That's before he lets those pouty lips of his seal around you, suckling with needy gurgles as if he were drinking milk. He groans at the taste of his own precum he marked you with, your taste combined with his makes him nearly cum.

"O-OOH-" The squirm of your legs are held still by his arms. He doesn't know how anyone other than you can look so adorably sweet and slutty at the same time with your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, sinful sounds filling the room, your white cream making a mess on the sheets. His dick is dripping and while he'd love for you to finish on his face, he knows that's not your favourite way to cum.

No.

Your loudest moans are when your filled with his cock while he plays with your clit with his lips by your ear.

Favourite position? You're not picky but he knows the ones you love the most. Your pussy gets so tight when he puts you in the sluttiest ones.

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl" He whispers tugging your earlobe between his teeth while maintaining a brutal pace, the sweat slicking his chest hot against your back. You're kneeling while he fucks you from behind, holding your body up, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other holds your hip. He wasn't sure how you'd feel about being choked until you squirted on him the first time he did it. "You love my fat cock don't you bunny, slut for big dick-" He brings his hand down to slap your clit making you sob, your wetness squirting onto the sheets, body limp in his hold, "Baby, you're soaking my balls, should make you suck them clean"

You moan louder.

Bucky smirks.

He's going to keep going.

"You like that don't you, you wanna lick my balls clean angel? Empty them first and then get down and suck 'em. Suck my cock, drink up all the cum that's still dripping after I cum in you"

That's all it takes. You're cumming without warning but Bucky's gonna make your orgasm last minutes if possible, his dirty talking getting filthier with each clench of your pussy.

"M'gonna be all sensitive for you angel, y' know how hard m'gonna cum for you? Gonna keep on cumming until I'm all empty"

"You're such a slut huh, you'd suck my cock even if it was soft-oh shhit baby-you like that too? You like me turning soft for you? You want daddy to get subby for you baby, hm?"

"I-I-Oh god James!!!" You whine and desperately try to fuck yourself back on him to prolong how good he's making you feel, all these feral thoughts too much-He reaches to pinch your clit, now rolling it between his fingers and you nearly pass out-

At this point anything he says doesn't matter. Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn't. He just says anything and everything that clouds both your fantasies that make you sob and sob from overstimulation.

"I can be subby for you bunny, y'know that. Tell daddy what you want, you can have anything y'want"

"Love when you lick my balls, clean my cock. Shit, y'know I'd let you touch me anywhere baby"

The very thought of what that entails sends you into a second orgasm.

"s'that it? You wanna taste daddy, bunny? Touch me where no one else has? Hm? Just my bunny putting her cute little tongue on my-

"FUUCCCKKKKKKK" You fall forward and love being smothered by him, lying flat on your tummy while he mounts you from behind letting his full body collapse on you.

"So little under me, no where to run, you make me wanna breed you when you're like this baby, wanna give you all of my cum.

"Bucky-Buckyy!" Your muffled screams and taut body have him pounding you harder, your orgasm squeezing cum out of his body even though he want's to hold it. You make it impossible He's still gonna talk you through it all while falling himself.

"I know, I know baby, feels good-s'good-oh God you're milking my cock bunny-fuckk" His hips stutter to a grind, "Shit I can't st-top, God y/n please-want it-need you" He's babbling at this point, the both of you utterly gone, floating in bliss. He's going to clean and take good good care of you, making a mental note of what he did to get you scream this time. He smirks to himself with his new information, next time he'd be more than happy to see you lose yourself while you play with and lick his-

Alright, that's enough.

[cavillscurls]

Goodnight Kiss

joel miller x f!reader

Joel’s a good dad. You try to remind him.

warnings/tags: MDNI. pre/no-outbreak!joel miller. babysitter!reader. joel is in his 30s but sarah is a toddler because i said so. reader is in her last year of college; do with that what you will. sickening fluff. some borderline impure thoughts. self-depreciation. praise/comfort. intimacy. single girl dad!joel. overworked man finds solace in a sweet girl. not beta'd & hardly proofread. wc: 1.5k

main masterlist

His keys jingle in the door lock an hour after your shift was intended to end.

You don’t mind. You’re used to this routine by now. He still has the courtesy to text you that he’ll be running late, and he always pays a little extra for the additional hours. You’re only here for the summer, and every penny helps grow the savings fund you’ve been eagerly building before entering the less-than-reliable job market next year.

There is also the matter of your employer himself, and knowing that there are far more deplorable summer jobs than babysitting his sweet daughter.

You’re certain of it, in fact. Because you’ve never known a man quite like Joel Miller.

He’s the most hardworking person you’ve ever met, not only providing for his daughter and himself, but his brother. You’ve only seen Tommy a handful of times, and despite his flaws, Joel remains hopeful that his intervention will prompt a turnaround.

He signs Sarah up for anything and everything she’s willing to try, and somehow, finds a way to get her there on time. He fixes the panels on his elderly neighbor's roof before they’ve even noticed one is loose. Sometimes, he’ll snatch your keys off the counter when he gets home at a reasonable time and tells you to stay put while he fills up your tank because gas ain’t an expense you needa worry about right now.

He’s overworked, underpaid, and still finds it in himself to be kind.

You tuck your bookmark into the pages sprawled out across your lap, rising from the couch to greet him. Sarah’s been in bed since seven, and while Joel has made it clear you’re welcome to the fridge or the TV, you always hesitate to overstep.

You grab your tote off the armrest, slinging it over your shoulder and sliding your book inside before pattering towards the front hallway.

“Hey,” you call softly. He’s toeing off his boots and tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. He gives you a tired, apologetic smile.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough from a long day's work. The low vibration sends goosebumps up your arms which you nonchalantly rub away, hoping he won’t notice.

Joel Miller is also impeccably handsome. Another fine quality you’re certain he fails to notice.

“M’so sorry. I know it’s not fair of me to keep doin’ this to ya. The plumbing guys are not cooperatin’, so I—”

“Joel, it’s fine.” You take another step toward him, the golden porch light illuminating his features through the front window. You tilt your head at him, shrugging your shoulders. “I’ve got nowhere else to be. And besides, I love Sarah. She's such a good kid.”

You watch the rigidity in his shoulders fall, if only a little. He’s looking you over as if he’s the child, and he’s just been caught doing something he’s not supposed to. He shakes his head, muttering something discouraging under his breath. You have the great urge to soothe him.

The feeling is not new nor unfamiliar, but you’re tentative with the actions it threatens to elicit. A million grey lines begging to be crossed.

“Was hopin’ to be back in time to tuck her in,” he sighs, placing a hand on his hip while the other rubs at the tension in his brow. “Been too long since I have.”

You can’t help but smile. Not at the berating of himself or his clear display of stress, but because it’s endearing how much he cares. How blatant his love for his daughter is, whether she’s in the room or not.

“Well, I made sure to give her an extra kiss goodnight to make up for it.”

When he looks at you again, it’s with that same sort of sad, guilt-ridden smile. His appreciation for you cannot make up for the condemnation of himself, and while this would not be the first time Joel Miller confided in you about his shortcomings, you can sense tonight weighs heavier than most.

“Just feel like m’not… doin’ enough, I dunno.” His shoulders rise and fall defeatedly, and he’s shaking his head as if to further scold himself. “Worried she’s gonna grow up to resent me or somethin.’”

That strikes a nerve. You suffocate the strap of your bag with your grip, an attempt to redirect some of the outrage that fills you.

How could he even think such a thing? You know Joel’s a smart man, he can’t possibly be so blind to the things other children lack from their parents—none of which he ever falters on.

Your brows knit low over your eyes, serious. “She will not resent you, Joel. She adores you.” You make a point of emphasis; you want him to hear you, loud and clear. Know that there are things you see from the outside that he doesn’t, that a four-year-old may be far more perceptive than he gives her credit for.

“She talks about you all day,” you continue, and that seems to get his attention. Your heart aches at the tired, hopeful look in his eyes. You wish you could alleviate some of the exhaustion. “Everything we do is can’t wait to show Papa this, or we gotta tell Papa that.”

He chuckles a little, likely somewhat due to your poor impression of the toddler's voice, but you still aren’t convinced your words have sunk in.

You do something a bit uncharacteristic, then. You reach out, take another step forward, and place an honest hand on his forearm. The muscle below your touch is firm and warm, but his eyes that follow the path of your fingers are wildly more intense.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him, voice dropping to a whisper. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

He blinks, and when he peers at you now, there’s a glint of something different. You’ve seen it before maybe a handful of times, but it’s always fleeting. A shared understanding that whatever it is, there’s never been any time to acknowledge it.

But this time, it lingers. It festers between your bodies that, only now, do you notice how close they have drifted in the already cramped entryway. Who shifted first, or when, matters very little with Joel’s eyes on you, gentle and focused. You see them flicker, once to your hand that still rests upon his skin, another to your eyes, and then your lips. There’s the sound of crickets in the night. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and dust. The sight of his face, all sharp edges and scattered freckles and a furrowed brow, but his eyes. In all the time you’ve know him, they’ve always remained kind.

Your breath catches in your throat when he finally leans in.

He doesn’t reach for you. Instead, he flushes his chest against yours and lets the weight of his lips drive the kiss. Your fingers dig into his forearm for purchase. You can’t say you’re caught off guard, though pleasantly surprised.

There’s an innocence to it, tender and sweet. He lingers for a few long beats, never pushing further than the plush of his lips delicately upon yours, and then releases.

You don’t open your eyes right away, selfishly idling in the newfound thrill a beat longer. You can still taste him—coffee, mint, something sweet. He remains close; you still feel the brush of his lips, the tip of his nose bumping yours, the fanning of his breath.

“M’sorry…” he starts to mutter, and you can tell he’s retracting. Your eyes fly open and your grip on him tightens.

“No, don’t be.”

You have difficulty finding any trace of guilt in his expression, a fact that turns your stomach. An anxious thrill, the precipice of something.

His tongue traces his bottom lip as if he’s trying to salvage another drop of you. A somewhat devious grin breaks out at the corners.

“Had to put it somewhere, I guess.”

You’re all soft chuckles and sheepish smiles after that, and you feel your cheeks heat up with an array of excitement and nervousness. It was one thing to endure Joel Miller and his charm without the prospect of more, but now?

You aren’t sure how you can possibly contain yourself.

A million questions rattle through your mind as you stare at one another, but you notice the time on the wall clock behind him. You’re no stranger to the bags under his eyes, the paleness on his cheeks after a long day, so you set your selfishness aside. After all, you’ll be back in this very spot in a handful of hours.

You swallow hard, slowly releasing his forearm, though your palm aches to remain.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He isn’t subtle about his hesitation. His eyes do an elongated once over of you before he shakes his head, and bites at his lower lip to prevent another laugh from escaping. You have half the mind to yank him back to you by the t-shirt, but digress when he steps around and opens the door for you.

You’re slow in your exit, doing a full one-eighty once your feet are planted on the porch to flash him one more dazzling smile.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You see the dimples cave in his cheek before he quietly closes the door.

“Night, darlin’.”

You can’t seem to fall asleep fast enough.

follow @cavillscurlsupdates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I update!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

it’s downright pouring outside.

suguru rests on the living room couch, cooped up in a bundle of soft blankets, watching droplets ricochet against the windows. heavy, sharp, like the rain is trying to break into your apartment — a steady pitter patter that makes him feel at ease.

it’s cozy, he thinks. being indoors, safe and warm and dry, while the outside world is blanketed by gray. wearing baggy clothes, a pair of reading glasses, his hair tied up into a loose bun; slender fingers turning the pages of the new novel you gave him.

he thinks of you, and finds himself frowning.

suguru got home just before storm clouds gathered in the sky — but as far as he knows, you’re still outside. he’s memorized your comings and goings, what time you usually return home, the paths you tend to favour. as any attentive roommate should.

so he’s a little worried. usually, you’d be home by now. and you still haven’t replied to his messages.

tentatively, he reaches for the warm cup of tea on the coffee table, bringing the ceramic to his lips. sipping from the green, honeyed brew, letting the scent soothe his growing nerves. he shouldn’t be too high-maintenance; you’re a perfectly capable adult. if he nags at you all the time, you’ll just be weirded out. and the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

so it’s fine. you’re fine, he’s sure. there’s no need for him to freak out over your whereabouts. he needs to maintain his cool, calm exterior.

— suddenly, the click of a lock being turned.

suguru’s head whips towards the front door. a moment passes, and then he’s stumbling to his feet, untangling himself from the heap of blankets he’s burrowed into — gently setting the cup back on the table, fixing his hair, making sure he’s presentable — before making his way towards the hall.

and there you are. clumsily dragging the door open, stumbling inside, keys jingling as you step over the threshold; absolutely soaked. just as he feared.

”hey…”

you meet his gaze. panting softly, cheeks a little flushed, wet locks of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. disheveled, letting out a sheepish little laugh — gosh, why do you have to be so cute? — leaning down to pull your shoes off. you’re wearing a thin, white shirt. entirely drenched. 

suguru looks away, a heat sticking to his cheeks.

”hey,” you greet, a little out of breath. tossing your shoes away, tugging absently at your collar. ”god. i feel like a drowned rat.”

at that, he lets a little chuckle slip. shaking his head, taking a step back — careful not to let his gaze stray towards the soaked fabric of your clothing. ”why didn’t you call me? i would have picked you up.”

”well, i thought about it,” you hum, walking right past him, ”but i figured you’d still be at work.”

suguru frowns, ever so slightly, discontentment in his eyes. ”… they let me go early today. but you should have texted me, either way. what if you get sick?”

”i’ll be fineeee,” you slip on a grin, turning back to face him. ”just need a quick shower. don’t worry, okay?”

he narrows his eyes, playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkle in response. then he exhales, hands on his hips. feigning exasperation. 

”… fine, fine. need me to go get you a clean shirt?”

”ah. well...” you let out a wince, earning a tilt of his head. ”i haven’t done my laundry, in like… a week.”

a moment passes. suguru’s lips curl up, an exasperated exhale slipping from his lips. he gazes at you, ever so fondly, raising a brow. ”i asked you if you needed me to wash anything for you.”

”i know, but…” you scratch at the back of your neck, letting out a breathy sigh. ”i don’t want you to pull all my weight. we both live here.” now there’s a pretty little pout on your lips. it makes suguru want to run his thumb over the sensitive skin, soothe it away.

but he only clears his throat. 

”i don’t mind,” he answers, truthfully. ”i like doing laundry. you know that.”

”… still.”

his smile only grows, at your quiet mumble, something soft blooming in his eyes. he takes a step forward. ”we’ll see about laundry later. in the meantime… want to wear one of my shirts?”

the words have left his lips before he can think them through — maybe a little too eager. silently, he curses himself for being so forward. but you raise your head, meeting his amber eyes, blinking so sheepishly that he thinks he’d give you just about anything you could ask for.

”… is that okay?” 

”more than okay,” he reassures you, a smile on his face. ”i’ll get you something comfy.”

you quiet down, for a moment. still pulling at the collar of your shirt, making sure the thin fabric doesn’t stick to your soaked skin. ”… alright,” you exhale. ”that’d be great, then.”

a hum buzzes in his throat. suguru walks past you, towards the hallway leading up to his room, ruffling your wet hair in passing. his heavy palm on your head, a perfect fit. smiling to himself.

”got it. one second, okay?” 

behind him, you nod — but he can’t see it. walking into his room, rummaging through his closet, trying not to lose his mind at the idea of you wearing one of his oversized shirts. maybe a pair of sweatpants, maybe a tank top… he gulps at the thought. heartbeat accelerating, a jittery feeling in his throat.

he settles on a big, comfortable hoodie. bundling it up in his arms, before making his way back to where you’re still standing, still soaked, shivering a little. 

”here,” he hums, passing the bundle of soft fabric into your awaiting arms. you nuzzle into the pile, already looking comforted; warming his heart down to the marrow. he hopes you like the cologne he picked out, earthy and deep. a hint of cinnamon. ”now go take your shower, hm?”

”mm. thank you.” you give him a smile, cheeks still damp, a little flushed. ”you’re too nice to me.”

suguru resists the urge to frown. resists the urge to tell you that there’s no such thing, that you deserve every last drop of kindness he can wring out of his cramped-up heart. he knows he shouldn’t be too forward, but you’re making it difficult. you always make it so difficult.

(or maybe he’s just a weak, weak man.)

”oh, please,” he gives you a playful little roll of his eyes, sighing gravely. ”this is the bare minimum. we don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

”we don’t,” you grin. ”i have a feeling you’d just end up feeding me soup all day.”

a chuckle flows from out his lips. he hopes it doesn’t come out as shaky as his heart feels, just at the thought — the idea of taking care of you like that. being allowed to tend to you, being trusted by you in that way. ”well, i am a chef. need to make sure i don’t get rusty, yeah?”

there it is, again. the crinkle of your eyes, that upturn of your lips, all things he finds himself constantly seeking — suguru exhales, somewhat in bliss. he might need to quit cigarettes for good, soon. it wouldn’t do for him to have more than one vice.

while you take your shower, your roommate lounges on the couch. or at least, he tries to — though his feet inevitably take him to your tiny kitchen, to the water cooker, to the cabinet with all his expensive tea bags. he picks out a nice, strong ginger brew. something to help boost your immune system. silently, drowsily, he pours water into a ceramic cup, stirs the slowly brewing tea with a honey-clad teaspoon. raindrops cascade against the window, and the faraway sound of thunder reaches his ears.

it’s cold outside, but warm and cozy in here. in the home you’ve made for yourselves. he’s really, really glad that he followed satoru’s advice — that he put out that advert, that the first person who reached out ended up being you. he’s happy to share a living space with you, these cozy leftover afternoons. he’s happy to have someone to brew tea for.

(what more could a man like him ask for?)

”um, suguru?”

he stiffens. ears perking up at the sound of your voice, that mellow little lilt — broken out of his syrupy stupor. after a moment, he turns around.

and his breath hitches in the back of his throat.

you’re standing there, right at the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room, hair a little damp from the shower — and you’re wearing his hoodie. it cascades down your frame, the hem of it ending right above your knees, sleeves rolled up to reveal your hands. that hoodie is baggy even on him, but you’re just drowning in the fabric. his heart feels like it’s about to burst, pupils wide as saucers.

suguru lets out a shaky sigh.

”jesus…”

a series of blinks. you tilt your head, like a confused puppy, glancing up at him with a doe-eyed look. fuck, he wants to bundle you up in his arms. he wants you to fall asleep on his chest, wants to keep you there forever. god, who thinks stuff like that?

(he needs to get a grip, and fast. he can already feel his ears growing hotter.)

”it looks… kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it?” you mumble, sheepishly, clouded with what he thinks must be shyness. cute. ”this isn’t really my size…”

suguru lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head, raven locks swaying with the movement. ”i can see that. looks good on you, though.”

”… does it?” you let your arms fall slack, at your sides, the softened fabric swallowing your hands entirely. he can’t even see the tips of your fingers. oh, how his heart aches — it’s squeezing so tightly he fears his chest might cave in, but all he can do is nod.

he turns around, again, absently clearing his throat. clinking the teaspoon against the rim of your cup, stirring idly. ”is it comfortable?”

”mhm!”

a warm smile. ”good.”

silently, you scoot closer, taking your rightful place beside him. resting your elbows on the counter, watching his movements, the flick of his long fingers. one of his rings catches on the ceramic, a quiet clang.

”here,” he hums, pushing the cup towards you. when you look up, his eyes are crinkled at the edges, warm and sweet, a melting pair of honeycombs. ”drink up.”

a moment passes. ”… you really are too sweet for your own good, you know that?” 

suguru grins. his heart blossoms a little more; petals sticking between the ridges of his ribs. it manifests as a delighted little chuckle, flowing out his throat.

”don’t thank me yet — there’s sushi for you in the fridge. they let us bring leftovers home again.”

”really? i can have some?”

suguru raises a brow. smiling, all the while. ”would i be offering otherwise?”

(you can have anything, he wants to say. i doubt i could say no. i’m a little weak, when it comes to you.

such embarrassing words.)

a heavy sigh escapes you, laced with relief. taking hold of the cup, raising it to your lips, sipping slowly. ”god, you’re the best. i’m starving.”

”haha… better eat, then, yeah?”

nod, nod. you give him another one of those giddy grins, putting your cup down, taking a step back. suguru can’t help but turn his head, to catch a glimpse of you — how cozy you look, waddling around in that big hoodie, hair a little tousled. humming softly to yourself, tapping the tips of your fingers against the handle of the fridge. it mashes well with the endless pitter patter against the windowpane. a purr of thunder echoes in the distance, and suguru feels at peace. hyacinths line the windowsill, the crinkle of a plastic container being rustled rings out across the room. he watches, listens, observes. wallowing in the feeling. 

domesticity. 

with a breathy, blissed-out exhale, his eyes fall shut. smile dripping with sweetness, barely contained. wishing on every single droplet that you’ll stick around a little longer than your lease allows.

”here,” you grin, stepping into his line of vision. handing him a plate full of sushi, all his favorite pieces. ”you eat up, too.”

suguru smiles.

”what would i do without you?”

(that’s a bridge he’ll worry about crossing another day.

for now, this is more than enough.)

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

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Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

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[lainiespicewrites]

Professor Superman

A/N okay this one's a one-shot I've been working on. I'm kinda nervous because I've never written for Clark. Let me know what you think!!

Summary: Reader is a student of Clarks who gets an internship at the Daily Planet. Clark is proud but his feelings take a turn when he realizes Lois is taking her to Gotham for research. He wants to protect her at all costs.

Warnings: Cursing, attempted kidnapping, smut, oral (female receiving) praise kink, Sex P n V, Unprotected sex, Creampie.

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I stared blankly for a moment, at the door in front of me. My heart was racing as I tried to will my hand to move. I only had to ask a simple question. Yet, I can not bring myself to know on the door. If I didn’t do this. I would likely fail the assignment and the internship. But the man was so smart and intense. I was too intimidated by him. What if I could not speak and only caused myself to look like a fool? I’d surely lose the internship then. 

I took a deep breath looking down at the paper in my hand. I had to do this. This is important. I looked back at the closed office door in front of me. Tentatively, I reached up and tapped my knuckles lightly against the wood. 

“Come in,” A gentle male voice answered my knock. With a shaky breath, I forced a smile on my face and grabbed the handle opening the door. His eyes shifted from his computer as I took a step into his office. A warm smile spread across his face once he recognized me. 

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Kent, I’ve finished my paper and I just wanted to ask if you could look over my revisions?” My voice came out quieter than I’d planned. I often had that problem when speaking to him.

“It’s no bother at all, I’ve been expecting you to drop by. Take a seat, I’d be happy to look it over.” He offered, gesturing to the chair in front of him. Professor Kent teaches a Journalism class at the university. He also works full-time for the Daily Planet paper. He’s incredibly intelligent. Each year he considers a few of his students for an internship with the newspaper. But only one of us could earn that position. I really want it. And currently, I’m one of his top candidates. 

I took a seat across from him trying to calm my nerves as I extended the paper out to him. He met my eyes. “You know, Journalism is more than just writing, and telling a captivating story. It’s about doing things that scare you, doing things that make you uncomfortable to chase down what you want to find.” He looked down at my shaky fingers as he slid the paper from my grip. 

“I understand that you’re nervous. But you have no reason to be. You continue to surprise me with just how far you’ll go with each assignment you turn in. If I were to make the final decision…” He paused looking up to make sure the door was closed, so no one would hear. “The internship would be yours,” he smiled. I blushed. 

“Thank you, Professor Kent. That means a lot.” I relaxed a bit as he leaned forward in his chair and started to read through my article. This article is my final piece. And it’s what will be submitted to the Daily Planet as my entry for the internship. I bit my lip awkwardly, trying desperately not to stare at his face as he read. His fingers tapped on the table as he looked up from the desk. 

“Y/n, This is incredible.” He smiled. My cheeks flushed staring down at my hands in my lap. 

“You don’t have to say that,” I stuttered. 

“I don’t,” He agreed, “But it’s true. I’ve only been teaching on campus for about 5 years but I’ve never had a student as dedicated as you. I’m impressed. I think Ms. Lane will be too.” I nodded, giving him a shy smile. “Are you ready to turn this in?” He asked. I nodded letting out a deep breath.

“Yeah, yes. I think so.” I said. He let out a chuckle. 

“Don’t be nervous. It’s great. I’ll take this in, first thing tomorrow.”  He gave me a gentle smile. 

“Thank you, So much. Professor Kent. I appreciate all you help!” I said as I stood to leave his office. 

“Of course,” he paused. His eyes scanned me for a moment. But I was buzzing with too much nervous energy to notice the way they lingered. “And please call me Clark, I have a feeling we’ll be working together before long.” He winked. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt my cheeks heat up.

“Thank you…Clark.” I smiled. He gave me an approving nod before I turned and left his office. 

The next week was agony.  We had two more classes with Professor….Clark, each time I stayed behind to ask if he’d heard anything. And each time he would give me a sympathetic smile and tell me to “hang in there,” just a little while longer. I should hear soon. He assured me that I was a good writer and that I shouldn’t get discouraged. But I couldn’t help it. Now it was almost 5 pm on Friday, surely if they didn’t call soon I wouldn’t know anything until Monday. 

I paced my apartment phone in hand begging it to ring. But when I checked the time at 5:30 and still, nothing. I gave up. I let out a deep sigh, setting my phone down walking to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. I set the glass on the counter and popped the cork. I filled the glass and almost dropped the bottle. My phone was ringing. I quickly set the bottle down and ran to the living room picking up the phone. I didn’t even check the number before I answered. 

“Hello?” I answered almost out of breath.

“Hello, is this Y/n?” a female voice asked. I nodded but then remembered I was on the phone and quickly found my voice. 

“Yes, Ma’am, it is,” I answered her. She didn’t miss a beat. 

“Great, This is Lois Lane, with the Daily Planet. I understand this is a bit late on a Friday evening but do you have time to meet with me at the office tonight?” my mind raced trying to find the right words.

“Sure, I can be there in 15 minutes. If that’s alright?” I asked her. We agreed on the time and after I thanked her, the call ended.

I very quickly realized I was not in the proper attire for this meeting. I was in running shorts and a hoodie. I tore through my closet trying to find a pair of dress pants that would work. I found a simple white cotton top to pair them with and some flats and ran out the door. I fixed my messy bun in the apartment building's front doors before starting to walk. The Daily Planet’s main office was only a few blocks away.  I got it to the building just in time and made my way inside. 

At the front desk, I introduced myself and was directed up to the 4th floor for my meeting with Lois. I stepped on the elevator and pushed the button for my floor.  I was starting to shake from the nerves. When the doors opened I was met with a familiar face. Standing at a desk a few feet away Clark was standing talking to a woman with auburn hair and kind eyes. They both looked up when the elevator sounded. 

“Y/n,” He smiled. “I’m glad you could make it.” I smiled at him and the woman stood and turned to greet me. 

“Miss Y/n, I’m Lois Lane. It’s nice to meet you.” she offered a kind smile. I shook her hand and she gestured for me to sit with her at her desk. “As you’re aware you and others from Mr. Kent's journalism course at the university have been under review for an internship with the Daily Planet. I would have just called but Clark insisted for you to come into the office.” She chuckled softly. 

I looked up at Clark nervously, he squeezed my shoulder reassuring me. “Y/n,” Lois continued. “The Daily Planet would like to officially offer you the internship starting next week.” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. 

“Thank you, Ms. Lane, I accept that offer. When do I start?” I asked, eagerly. She chuckled softly. 

“I’ll send you an email with all of the details on Monday. You should be able to start with us on Tuesday.” I nodded.  

“Thank you again,” I said. She nodded, giving me a smile. 

“Of course. We’re excited to work with you,” she stood and started to gather her things. “I apologize, I’m not trying to rush you out of here. I’ve got a date this evening I don’t want to be late for. Clark, can you walk her out?” Clark nodded waving to Lois as she already started to head toward the elevator. 

“Of course, I can, sorry for keeping you Lo, have fun tonight.”He winked. Lois rolled her eyes at him.

“Forever the gentleman,” she laughed, “ I’ll see you next week,” she said as the elevator doors closed behind her. 

“I told you we’d be working together soon!” Clark chuckled. I turned to face him but I couldn’t find the words. Without thinking I wrapped my arms around his middle hugging him. He was a bit surprised at first but he returned the hug. 

“Thank you,” I said softly. Remembering myself I pulled away quickly, my face flushed and embarrassed. “I-I’m so sorry, that was incredibly unprofessional. I-” Clark cut off my rambling. 

“It’s alright. You earned this. And you’re going to do amazing things here, I’m sure.” He squeezed my shoulder encouragingly. “Let me walk you out.” I nodded and waited while he got his jacket off of his desk chair. We rode down in the elevator together and walked out through the main lobby. “Where’d you park?” He asked, offering to walk me to my car. 

“Oh, um, I walked actually, I live close by,” I told him. Clark looked out the front doors and watched as rain was coming down outside. He frowned. 

“Could I give you a ride? Call me old school but I certainly can’t let you walk home in this rain.” 

I hesitated for a second. He looked back out at the rain and back to me, his eyes full of sincerity. 

“Uh, I mean, it’s really not far,” I argued. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. Just that my head was starting to get kindness and flirtation confused. I already embarrassed myself once with him today.

“It’s pouring rain, Y/n, it's no trouble I promise.” He countered. I gazed back outside. He was right, it had started to pour. I would be soaked just stepping out into it. Let alone walking all the way home. I looked back to Clark and nodded. 

“Okay,” I spoke softly. I watched as Clark pushed the door open and then opened up his umbrella. Of course, he was prepared. I look even more foolish now. 

“Come on,” He smiled. “There’s enough space for both of us under here.” He chuckled. He walked us out to his car and opened my door for me holding the umbrella while I got in so I wouldn’t get wet. 

It was quiet for a moment while he started the car. I had to remind myself again that just because a man is being nice doesn’t mean he’s interested. I looked over at him, his head turned back as he pulled out of the parking spot. I don’t know when I’d developed this little crush on him but it had to stop now. God, he was handsome though. His jaw was sharp, but his eyes were a soft but intense blue. His curls were dark and I found I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to drag my fingers through them. I shook my head. No, he’s my professor. He’s at least 15 years older than me. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He surely didn’t see me that way. And we work together now. I have to be professional.

I pushed down my thoughts and focused, directing Clark to my apartment building. He paused abruptly when I pointed out the parking lot. He crooked an eyebrow his face completely surprised. 

“No, this is it? Really?” He asked.

“Uh… yeah” I answered hesitantly. Clark let out an awkward chuckle. 

“I’m sorry, It’s just funny. I live in the building too. I’m on the 5th floor.” He said. My brows raised completely shocked. 

“I’m on 3.” I stuttered. 

“I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other.” He laughed dumbfounded. We got out of the car. Clark met me with the umbrella. We took the elevator up together. 

“Have a great evening,” He started “I’ll see you next week,” He smiled. I blushed softly. 

“You too Clark,” I said as the elevator opened to my floor. 

“Oh and if you ever need a ride to work, Just let me know,” he winked. I giggled softly and waved as the doors closed. 

I’m royally fucked. 

I started with the Daily Planet the following Tuesday. I expected that they would have me refill copy machines or make coffee or file documents in the archives. I was shocked when I was given an assignment. It wasn’t in the field. It wasn’t going to be printed. But they told me if I wanted to eventually work for the planet then seeing how I handled personal assignments was key. It was due to Lois at the end of the week. Only 4 days to do research and write the article. I sat at my desk and poured over everything I could get my hands on. It felt a little lonely. My desk was farther away from the main writers and it was a bit smaller. But it would do. Clark and sometimes a few of the others would offer me to join them for lunch during the week but I usually skipped it. This was important. If I wanted to earn respect and make myself a place around here this had to be good. 

On Friday I was once again working at my desk, typing like mad trying to finish and edit my article. 

“You don’t have to work yourself so hard. You’ve already earned your spot you know?” Clark's voice said from somewhere next to me. 

“How many of your students have been hired on at the Planet after the internship Mr Kent?” I asked. He started to protest the question. Then he let out a deep sigh leaning against my desk. 

“Two,” He answered honestly. 

“I may have the internship, but I haven’t earned my place here.I have your respect but I have to earn it with the others,” I replied. He nodded, his eyes connecting with mine.

“Can you at least break for lunch?” He pleaded. 

“I’m going to eat at my desk. I’m almost finished. And this has to be done and on Lois’ desk by 2 pm. She leaves early today.” His eyes were sad but I knew he understood.  

I finished the article. I waited nervously at my desk waiting for Lois to call me over. 

“This is good,” she said when she finally did. “You have work to do,  I want to see how your research improves when you're out on the field. But for just starting, this is great.” She added. I nodded waiting for more. I knew she wasn’t finished. 

“Next week you’ll be coming with me, I’m doing expose research in Gotham, I want you to come to observe and take notes,” she stated. I nodded again. 

“I’ll be there, Thank…”

“Lois, Gotham’s dangerous you can’t take her with you.” Clark interrupted. Lois peered up at him over my shoulder. 

“Clark,” She sighed. “All due respect. You’ve taught her all you can in the classroom. But I’m her teacher now. And the best way to learn research is out in the field hands-on.” She retorted. 

“I’ll be with Lois, I’ll be okay,” I assured him. He wasn’t having it. 

“She won’t learn anything if she gets hurt. The crime rate in Gotham has skyrocketed it isn’t worth the risk. Does Perry know about this?” He asked. Lois scoffed. 

“As a matter of fact, he does. He’s already approved it.” she told him I don’t know what came over me. If I was angry that he was trying to stop me from going when this was my chance to earn my way in. Or if I was angry he thought I was weak. 

“And, I can take care of myself! I don’t need you hovering like I’m so fragile! You may have taught me but I got myself this far, Mr. Kent. We’ll be just fine.” I snapped. Clark stared dumbfounded. His mouth hung open, he was at a loss for words. Actually, everyone was staring. 

“Shows over,” Lois spoke loudly “You can all get back to work,”  she announced. I looked back at her apologetically. 

“Lois, I..” Clark started. She quickly cut him off. 

“Clark, I have to leave, I don’t have time for this. It’s settled she’s going,” She looked back at me, her eyes softer and sympathetic. “I’m out for the day, and you’ve finished your work, If you’d like to go now your welcome, I’ll see you Monday,”  she smiled. I nodded at her giving her a nervous smile. She turned then and walked out. 

“Y/N, please think about this. I don’t want you to get…”  He started. 

“I’m going to go, as well, Mr. Kent… I’ll see you next week.” I stood and walked to my desk grabbing my things. I walked past him to the elevator without another word.

Monday morning I was in the office early. Lois and I met at the office so she could debrief me before we left. She was interviewing with billionaire Bruce Wayne. He had connections all over Gotham, she wanted intel on any possible underground organized crime. I’ll admit it certainly was intense for my first time in the field. But it would be great practice. 

The city of Gotham was not nearly as wicked as Clark made it out to be. Mr. Wayne was amicable. He didn’t want to be there but he respected us so much as we respected him. The next few days we went back. We checked out some of the sources that Bruce had given. We got closer and closer to what she was looking for. Someone was definitely covering up organized crime in Gotham.  

Late Thursday night we were headed back to the car. It was almost 9:30 way past office hours at this point. But as Lois informed me. Good stories don’t live within the time clock. We were about to drive back and head home for the evening. We were only a few blocks away. I heard Lois scream from behind me. I turned back to look and felt myself being pulled backward. Someone had ahold of my arms dragging me off the sidewalk. 

“Let me go!” I demanded. Struggling in the stranger's grip. “Lois!” I called. 

“Shut up, what the hell are you bitches doing here?” a male voice asked. I heard Lois cry for help. I continued to struggle. 

“I’m not telling you anything. Let go of me. Someone HELP.” I screamed. Unable to break loose from the man’s hold. 

“Listen bitch! I told you to…Ungh”  The man grunted he fell back suddenly my arms slipping from his grip. I looked up my eyes going wide. Superman. He’d heard our screams. 

I watched as he took care of Lois’ attacker breaking her free. He spoke softly to her. His face looked almost…stern. She looked at him her eyes deeply apologetic. I couldn't hear what was being said. He patted her shoulder giving her a soft smile after she assured him she was okay. That I did here. 

“And you, are you okay?” He was on his feet now. He landed right in front of me. My eyes met his. They looked so familiar. I nodded. 

“You… saved me. I.. I don’t know how to thank you.” I stuttered. He smiled 

“It’s what I do. I’m just thankful I made it before you were hurt. Now please get home safe.” He added. I nodded still in shock. I felt Lois squeeze my shoulder and we walked back to the car. Superman hovered close watching to make sure we made it. Once we were inside he flew off. 

“Do you… know him?” I asked Lois suddenly. She paused looking at me. 

“We’ve met before. This job can be, dangerous at times. Can you handle that?” She asked. I thought for a moment. Could I? I couldn’t get myself out of this situation. But I didn’t back down either. Finally, I nodded. 

“Yes, I can,” I answered. 

“Good, now let's get home. We both could use some rest.” 

In the office the next day I was typing notes for Lois. I was back and forth at her desk all day. At one point I paused looking over at Clark. He looked exhausted. And stressed. He looked slightly disheveled. He was aggressively tapping at the keys on his keyboard. 

I approached him slowly. 

“Hey, are you alright, you look tired I can get you some coffee if you’d like,” I offered. He shook his head not looking away from his computer. 

“I’m fine Y/n, thank you.” he dismissed me. 

“Oh.. okay, if you need anything let me know,” I added before walking away. Normally I skipped lunch but I had time that day. I walked over to ask Clark to come with me. Again he dismissed me. I felt bad for the way I had treated him last week. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay between us. I stayed late that night typing up notes for Lois. When I shut down my computer, I noticed Clark was the only one still in the office. 

“Clark,” I spoke softly “It’s 5:30  do you need help?” I asked. He shut down his computer then.

“No, I’m just heading out now. Thank you for the offer.” He mumbled. I nodded. I turned and walked to the elevator. I rode down by myself to the first floor letting Clark cool off. If he didn’t want to talk I would give him his space. I walked out through the lobby pausing just inside the doors. Shit. It was raining again. I decided to walk this morning. It wasn’t supposed to rain. I heard the elevator ding and I groaned to myself seeing Clark exit. I gnawed at my lip anxiously, Praying the rain would suddenly let up.

“Hey,” I hear Clark's voice behind me. “Need a ride?” he asked nodding toward the door. 

“Uh… yeah, I walked this morning. Didn’t bring my umbrella. It wasn’t supposed to rain today.”  I answered awkwardly.  Clark opened the door opening his umbrella and just like the first time he took me home, we walked close sharing the protection from the rain. 

The ride home was quiet it was only a few blocks away. But when Clark pulled into the parking lot I could no longer take the silence. 

“Clark. What’s wrong?” I asked. He shook his head. “Don’t, don’t brush me off, what’s bothering you?” He got out of the car, slammed his door shut, and headed inside. I got out quickly running after him the rain immediately soaking me.  “Hey, I was talking to you!” I shouted. 

“Y/n STOP!” He turned around quickly the volume of his voice causing me to shrink back a little. “You wanna know what's bothering me? You. You, putting yourself in harm's way. You, trying so hard to prove yourself that you're being reckless. You almost got hurt because you had to make a point. You, because I can’t stop fucking thinking about you! And I’ve lost sleep all week worrying about your safety.” He stepped closer we were standing in the middle of the parking lot. “Because I couldn't bear the thought of someone even touching you.” my heart was racing his face was inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my face. “I don’t wanna see any bruises on this pretty face.” My breath hitched. 

“Clark,” I whispered. He grabbed my face crashing his lips to mine. I melted against him. The rain still fell hard around us. 

“Your so damn stubborn,” He mumbled between kisses. I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him closer. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, breathless as I chased his lips for another kiss. He let out a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t be. You’re doing amazing. I knew you would be. Just be more careful.” I nodded. He took my hand pulling me inside. He pressed the elevator button frantically. I giggled. 

“Clark that’s not gonna make it get here any faster.” He chuckled. 

“Damn elevators.” Once inside he pushed the button for his floor and backed me up against the wall. His lips were back on mine, kissing me roughly. “Wanted this for so long.” He groaned. Kissing down my neck. The elevator doors opened. He took my hand again leading me to his apartment. 

He quickly unlocked the door and I followed him inside. I bit my lip waiting for him to make a move. I felt so shy all of a sudden. I wanted this but I was nervous. Clark lifted my chin so my eyes met his. 

“Stop me. If this isn’t what you want stop me, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.” I shook my head. 

“I want you Clark,” I whispered. His lips were on mine again. Sweeter this time. More slow. He felt his hand move down my neck and over my chest softly squeezing my breast. I moaned leaning into the touch. “Clark please,” I whined. He stepped back peeling off his wet shirt. I did the same. We left a trail of wet clothes all the way to the bedroom. Clark laid me down on the bed crawling between my thighs. Kissing them softly. 

“So beautiful.” He groaned before swiping his tongue between my folds. I gasped. He circled my clit with his tongue and then back down dipping it inside me. His groan was feral. 

“Fuck.” I moaned. He worked his tongue in and out of me while I worked my hips against his face. I tangled my fingers in his curls holding him close. His nose rubbed against my clit has he fucked me with his tongue. “m’  gonna.”  I moaned as I came on his tongue. He lapped it all up before pulling away. 

“So good sweetheart.” He kissed up my body, kissing my lips and letting me taste myself. Finally he settled between legs pushing inside of me slowly. He let out a low moan. 

“ So big,” I whimpered. He brushed my hair out of my face kissing me softly. 

“Doing so good for me sweetheart. Almost all the way in. You can take it all baby.” He moaned. With one last push he was fully seated inside me. “You feel amazing baby. Taking me so well.” He cooed letting me adjust. 

“Clark please.” I whined. Begging him to move. He pulled out slowly, until just the tip was inside me and then plunged back in. I let out a loud moan. 

“Feel good sweetheart?” He asked. I nodded. 

“So good, Clark, Fuck, I moaned as he started to thrust into me at a steady pace. He grabbed my hand pinning it to the mattress. He picked up his pace. I felt the knot build in my stomach. 

“You’re getting close aren’t you baby?” he asked. I nodded. Letting out a strangled moan. 

“Please.” I begged. 

“So polite.” he groaned. He pressed his thumb to my clit as he fucked me rubbing in circles. I felt my toes curl and I came hard squeezing him as he fucked me through my orgasm. “Thats it sweetheart. Fuck. Gonna make me. Ungh.” He groaned cumming inside me. We were both breathless laying there for a moment. Clark pulled out slowly. And pulled me into him.

“You okay?” He smiled kissing my cheek. I nodded. 

“Mhmm” I mumbled dreamily. Clark got up and came back with a cloth to clean us both up. Then got back into bed holding me close. 

“Clark?” I asked softly. 

“Hmm?” he hummed. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me… or were you just gonna let me figure it out?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“Because no one else knows what happened in Gotham Superman,”  I smirked turning in his arms. 

“How did you…?” He asked. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I’d know your eyes anywhere.” I said blushing. 

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “You have a crush on me?” He asked. 

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[mwuaferrari]

I REALLY WANT TO KISS YOU - LANDO NORRIS

The paddock was nearly empty. Only faint lights illuminated a few tents, and a handful of mechanics were packing up the last tools of the night. Just two races left, and the season would be over. Although the championship hadn’t gone Lando’s way, the atmosphere wasn’t melancholy—it felt nostalgic. A blend of exhaustion, pride, and the inevitable “what ifs.”

You leaned against a metal railing, watching as Lando, a few meters away, chatted distractedly with one of his engineers. He was smiling, but you could sense there was something deeper beneath the surface, something he was working through quietly. When he finished the conversation, his eyes searched for you in the shadows. The moment he spotted you, he walked over with a half-smile that sent your heart racing.

Lando stopped a few steps away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and studying you intently.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice light but tinged with nervousness.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone playful, that familiar teasing lilt he used to deflect anything serious.

“I wanted to check on you, to make sure you were okay,” you admitted, glancing at him sideways.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I know,” you said, taking a breath as you carefully chose your words. “But… Lando, you did something incredible this year, you know that? Everyone expected big things from the others, but you—you surprised everyone. You fought until the very end, and that’s what matters.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge whether you really meant it. When he found no hesitation in your expression, he sighed softly and smiled—this time, with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Thank you. Really. I think I needed that.”

You looked at him, and despite his words, something in his demeanor made you want to comfort him. Without thinking too much, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Lando stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then let out a small laugh as he hugged you back, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder.

“This helps more than words,” he murmured against your hair.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t move far. His gaze lingered on yours, and something in his eyes had shifted—something warm that made your cheeks heat up.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

Lando blinked, then leaned against the railing beside you, a genuine, low laugh escaping his lips.

“I was just thinking about something really stupid.”

“What?” you pressed, curiosity evident in your voice.

He looked at you, biting his bottom lip as if debating whether to say it. Finally, with a shrug and a soft chuckle, he confessed, “I was thinking that I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your eyes widened as your heart sped up, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“And that seems stupid to you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

“A little,” he admitted, “but it’s also true.”

The air between you seemed to grow heavier, charged with a new kind of energy. You stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just teasing.

“So, what’s stopping you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest.

Lando’s expression softened, his usual playful demeanor melting into something more serious as he leaned closer.

“Nothing, I guess,” he murmured.

And before you could say another word, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, ensuring this was exactly what he wanted. When he felt you respond, his grip on your waist tightened slightly, the kiss deepening into something that felt like it had been building for a long time.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were slightly out of breath, wearing matching smiles that neither could suppress.

“Well,” he said, his voice soft and tinged with humor, “that felt a lot less stupid than I thought it would.”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he replied, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “But I’m also the guy who just kissed you, so I must be doing something right.”

[yazmarina]

dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'?

charles leclerc and oscar piastri x fem!reader

how about a reward for monaco's p1 and p2?

warnings/notes: smut, threesome, a blowjob, slight degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up, people!!!), cumshot, creampie, gagging, light choking

a/n: very ambitious and would not set me free until i wrote it...so please enjoy <3

.

You really had no idea how you ended up here.

Arthur is a good friend of yours, having met him when you first came to work for Ferrari under the communication department, mostly being assigned to handle the Academy and development drivers' communication needs. You and Arthur got on well, and eventually, you were hanging out with him and his other friends on the weekends.

The two of you were strictly friendly, something you've had to clear out multiple times to work superiors, nosy colleagues, insistent reporters, you name it.

Arthur isn't your type, point blank, period.

His older brother was a different topic altogether.

Charles was sensitive, artistic, a prince charming in all aspects. Being in close proximity to Arthur meant you spent some time with Charles, too, but those were few and far between and every time you were within five feet of Charles, you were reduced to a tongue-tied mess.

Regardless, Arthur insisted you come along to the celebrations after Charles' most recent win in Monaco.

"Charles knows who you are and you're my friend. He won't mind," Arthur pleaded earlier that day as you were packing up after the podium celebrations.

"What if you go running off and I'm left alone?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I won't go running off," Arthur promised. "I'll be with you the whole night. I'll even help you look for a guy you can go home with!"

And yet you're here in the present, sitting on a couch in the VIP section, alone.

Well, not really. You're surrounded by people but none of them are talking to you. Arthur had gone to get more drinks half an hour ago and you know by now that he probably was sidetracked by other friends or something to that effect.

You have half a mind to call it a night, your hand already reaching for your purse, when you hear a voice call out.

"________! You're here!"

You look up and your heart seems to jump right into your throat.

Charles is beaming down at you, a flag of Monaco draped around his shoulders, his previously styled hair now sticking up in all directions.

You caught a glimpse of Charles earlier when you arrived with Arthur, but the race winner was too busy doing shots for you to have properly said hi.

But he's here now. And he's sliding into the space beside you.

"Where's Arthur?" Charles asks, reaching for an unopened Heineken on the table in front of you.

"I have no idea," you half-yell, leaning closer so Charles could hear. You feel goosebumps erupt on your skin when Charles lays a tentative hand on your back.

"You can spend time with me, then," Charles grins, moving his arm further so it fully wraps around your shoulders.

A nervous laugh escapes you but your instinct is to lean even further into Charles' touch. He's still smiling at you, though clearly inebriated with the way his eyes seem out of focus.

"Ah, Oscar!"

You turn your head to see the other third of the podium finishers, Osar Piastri himself.

"Hey!" he calls over the din of the music. "I can't find anyone! I think they just abandoned me," Oscar adds, laughing.

He takes the seat on your left, effectively sandwiching you between him and Charles. You smile politely at Oscar, reaching your hand out.

"Hi, I'm ______," you say, smiling wider as Oscar takes your hand in his and squeezes.

"I'm Oscar," he says then pauses, realizing that you probably already knew who he was if you were any friend of Charles'. He laughs, practically giggles, hiding his face in his hand.

"Sorry, I see you around the paddock sometimes, so I probably didn't need to do that," Oscar explains, cheeks turning pink, or at least you think they do, given that the lighting in this club is atrocious.

Oscar is still holding your hand and you can tell that he's tipsy too by the way he's smiling, eyes hooded and sleepy-looking.

"________ is part of communications in Ferrari," Charles explains, rubbing his thumb over the exposed skin of your shoulder. You turn to look at Charles, and the way he gazes back at you, a half smile on his lips, breath hot on your cheek, has your heart pounding incessantly against your chest.

"She's very efficient," Charles praises with a chuckle. "I like seeing her around when she works."

You make a move to swat at Charles' thigh as if to tell him off. "Stop it, I'm not at enough races for you to see me that often."

You're laughing, mostly in disbelief at the words that just came out of Charles' mouth. He likes seeing you around?

Charles shrugs. "But when you are, I notice."

You feel your neck heat up and even more so when Charles maneuvers you closer, seemingly protective. If you moved any more, you'd be on Charles' lap.

Oscar eyes the two of you and you'd give anything to read the thoughts in his head right now. The younger man locks eyes with you and smiles, sweetly at first, but then his pupils glance down briefly at your chest, barely covered by the tube top you decided to don for the evening.

The sweetness quickly melts away as Oscar bites his lip.

"You're close, then?" Oscar asks casually, scooting closer to you and Charles.

"Arthur and her are good friends," Charles points out.

"So I guess by default, _______ and I are good friends, too."

You laugh and Oscar is grinning once more at you, and god does he look handsome under these lights. You can tell that he wants to come even closer, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. Some slow song is playing over the speakers, bass loaded and making the entire place vibrate.

You reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's thigh, squeezing just enough to get the point across.

Oscar looks over at Charles and you follow his line of sight, seeing some sort of unspoken agreement cross the two drivers.

Charles dips his head, moving even closer to you. He breathes out right next to your ear and you shiver.

"Ma chèrie," he begins. "I think we need to take this somewhere else."

You turn to look at Charles, blood roaring in your ears. "What?"

Charles looks straight into your eyes as if searching for something. He rubs a soothing hand down your back, letting it settle on your waist.

"You want to, no?" Charles asks, momentarily glancing up at Oscar. "With me and him?"

You feel a rush of excitement course through you. Surely, this isn't happening. The idea of Charles bringing you home crossed your mind briefly the moment he touched you earlier, but that's as far as you allowed yourself to imagine. But the remnants of alcohol in your system and the intoxicating atmosphere of the club must have gotten to you with the way you so brazenly made a move on Oscar.

And now you reap what you sow.

"We can hang out at my place," Oscar throws out nonchalantly as if he was simply inviting you and Charles to more drinks at his apartment.

"I just moved in and it could use a little...housewarming," Oscar adds with a pointed look.

Charles bursts out laughing, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling into the side of your neck. You glance around, hyperaware that all eyes have been on Charles the whole night, and for sure it isn't any different now.

"Andiamo," Charles whispers. "We'll make it good."

Let's go. Your months of Italian as a prerequisite to working in Ferrari barely register with you now.

Oscar slips his own hand over your thigh, his large palm covering an expanse of your skin.

"You'll love the view from my balcony," Oscar offers, tilting his head towards you. He smiles, innocent and sweet once more, simultaneously squeezing at the flesh of your thigh.

You bite your lip, suppressing whatever sounds that threatened to come out.

-

You thought you'd never make it out of the car ride to Oscar's place.

Oscar had brought his own ride and being much, much more sober than both you and Charles, he took the initiative to drive. You and Charles piled into the backseat, giggling.

"Not fair, you guys," Oscar teased from the front, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. Charles merely snickers, hands sneaking up over your chest as you settle on his lap.

"Eyes on the road, Oscar," Charles ordered, yanking your top down, exposing yourself fully to Oscar. You gasped, the cold air of the air-conditioning lending to the stiffening of your nipples. Charles began to toy with them, pinching and rolling them between his fingers, reducing you to a speechless mess. You noticed just how hard Oscar was gripping the steering wheel, tight enough that his knuckles were drained of color.

You barely had time to cover yourself back up once you got to Oscar's place, with Charles tugging you out of the car as soon as Oscar killed the ignition. The younger of the two comes around to your side of the car as you and Charles stumble out. Oscar takes your hand in his and leans down briefly to kiss you, tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your lips.

Oscar pulls away, sending Charles a look. "I was on the podium, too, mate."

"Ah, sorry Oscar," Charles says lightheartedly. "Sharing isn't really my strong suit. But for her, I will try."

Charles lands a smack on your ass, the sound loud enough to make you flinch. You involuntarily whine at the sting, tripping over your feet a bit. Oscar steadies you, laughing along with Charles.

"We're gonna have so much fun with you, chèrie," Charles teases, kissing your cheek.

The elevator ride is even worse. Or better. You can't decide.

It's just the three of you, and you're backed up into the corner, Charles being the handsier of the two, creeping both hands up your sides, his knee pushing between your legs.

"Ch-Charles, not here," you manage to warn. He increases the pressure against your core, grinning as he watches you shiver.

Oscar watches from the side, arms crossed, leaning casually against the elevator wall. You meet his gaze and he winks, smiling languidly just as Charles kisses down the side of your neck.

Soon enough, the elevator doors open and you push Charles away, startled to see a pair of middle-aged women waiting on the other side. You hurry past them out into the hallway, following Oscar who saunters down towards the end with an easy step.

"Right here," Oscar declares, unlocking a door at the very end. Charles guides you inside just as Oscar turns the light on.

The living room is spacious, with a single couch and coffee table occupying it. A deep blue rug breaks the cream flooring. Past the receiving area is the dining and kitchen, set against floor-to-ceiling windows, a staple of Monegasque apartments, as you've come to figure out. A hallway veers to the right.

"You weren't kidding about the view," you comment, taking in the night sky and the sprawling harbor.

Oscar turns back to you, and only now do you get a good look at him. The first three buttons of his shirt undone, his hair the right kind of messy, and his eyes, darker than what you're used to.

"The view in here is just as good," Oscar replies, eyes raking over your body. He reaches out, a hand resting on your waist.

"May I?" Charles whispers from behind you, tugging down the zip of your skirt. He gets it open and you let it fall to your feet, kicking it off to the side.

"So pretty," Charles adds, kissing along your upper back. Oscar hikes your top up and you let him pull it over your head, leaving you bare, save for your panties.

"I could see your tits through your shirt the whole night," Oscar comments, pointer fingers ghosting over your nipples. "Imagined what they might look like."

You gasp, leaning further back into Charles. You had no idea Oscar had that kind of mouth on him.

It turned you on to no end.

"Better than what you imagined?" You breathe out, Charles' fingers making their way over your mound, pressing over the wet spot on your underwear.

"Chèrie, you're so wet," Charles curses, rubbing you through the thin fabric. "Will you let me get a taste of you, hm?"

You nod frantically, already buckling under the lightest of touch from both men. You can only imagine how pathetic you look right now, stripped bare, with them still fully clothed.

"We should move this to the room," Oscar offers, delivering a final pinch to both of your nipples. You yelp as Oscar chuckles darkly, taking your hand in his.

It hasn't even fully started and you're already made to do the walk of shame.

Oscar's walls are still mostly bare but you feel exposed somehow, shivering despite the fairly warm temperature. He leads you and Charles to the door at the end of the hall, stepping inside while undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

You're met with large double doors on one side of the room, leading to, what you can only assume, is a large balcony.

"We can do it with a view, amour," Charles says, wrapping both arms around your waist.

Oscar shrugs his shirt off and you watch as his muscles flex beneath his skin, taut and defined.

"We sure can," Oscar agrees, flinging the doors to his balcony open. The cool night breeze blows past your face and you sigh, heart rate picking up even more.

Charles gently maneuvers you closer to the open doors and your hands start to clam up. Shit, are you really doing this?

"W-Wait," you mutter. "Won't anyone see?"

Oscar approaches you, pointer finger hooking into your underwear. He tugs at it harshly, yanking it halfway off.

"We don't have to do it outside if you don't want to," Oscar says, voice low. He looks at Charles. "Don't wanna get kicked out after I've just moved in."

Charles snickers. "The bed is right there. We'll leave the doors open and let them hear you, instead."

And it's true. The bed is directly in front of the balcony doors, moonlight spilling onto Oscar's navy blue sheets. Oscar grabs fully at your soiled panties now, ripping them clean off.

You gasp, but any shock is melted away when you see Oscar ball up the torn fabric in his hand, bringing it closer to your face. He raises his eyebrows as if questioning you.

"Yes? No?" He asks, tapping beneath your chin. It clicks a little late what Oscar is asking of you but you nod, parting your lips.

Oscar grins, pushing your panties into your mouth.

Fuck.

You hear the metal clang of a belt being unbuckled behind you, followed by the crinkle of fabric as Charles lets his pants and underwear pool around his ankles.

"You and I are going to have so much fun with her, no, Oscar?" Charles asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Oscar undoes the button of his pants as well. "Yes, we are."

"How do you want to do this, baby?" Charles addresses you, taking hold of your hips. "Tell us."

"And maybe if you're good, we'll give you what you want," Oscar adds, a hand sliding up your chest before resting around your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel Oscar test the waters, squeezing lightly.

"Oh, wait," Charles laughs condescendingly. "She can't talk."

There's a glint in Oscar's eyes as he adds pressure around your neck. "Guess we have to decide for her then."

You whimper, arms reaching out to wrap around Oscar's own neck. He smiles at you, almost warmly, but you can still see the bubbling desire in his irises.

"You can take the gag out any time you want," Oscar instructs softly, releasing your neck. You take in a big breath through your nose.

"And if you don't like anything we're doing, say 'Monte Carlo'," Oscar adds. He nods at Charles and you feel yourself being pulled backward.

"Get on the bed," Charles commands and you scramble to do so, crawling over the mattress before turning around and laying back on your elbows.

Charles and Oscar eye you intently and you're tempted to cover yourself, but with how they've been acting the whole night, you're not sure how that would be received.

"You wanna go first?" Oscar nudges Charles lightly. The Monegasque grins widely like a kid on Christmas.

"Oh, yes," Charles concedes, getting on the bed with you. He scoots down so his face is level with your cunt.

"Hold tight, my love," Charles says before licking a thick stripe up your core. Your whole body jerks and you cry around the gag in your mouth.

Charles continues to work on your dripping pussy, alternating between flicking against your clit and circling your hole. You moan and whine and whimper, eyes tearing up as you look pleadingly at Oscar.

"Look at you," Oscar laughs. "We've barely done anything."

Charles spreads your legs even wider, licking even deeper. You're fully crying now, the buildup proving too much as you feel your body shake at your approaching orgasm.

Oscar reaches over and toys with your boobs, brushing over your nipples just the way you like it. Without warning, Oscar dips his head down and takes one in his mouth, circling the nub with his own tongue.

The added sensation nearly drives you crazy. The pressure builds rapidly inside you and you're left incoherent as you beg without words.

Not yet, fuck, I can't cum that fast–

You twitch and involuntarily press your pussy harshly against Charles' mouth as you come undone, toes curling and body seizing up. Oscar pulls away and watches as you throw your head back, fingers twisting into the sheets.

"Already?" You hear Charles' voice through the ringing in your ears. "You must really want it."

You blink through your tears, momentarily confused as you see Oscar reach for your face. You cough as you feel the dry fabric being pulled out from your mouth. Oscar tosses your ruined underwear to the side.

"I think she deserves a reward for getting there so fast," Oscar suggests, turning to Charles.

"Which one do you want a taste of first? You get to pick, sweetheart," Oscar says, wiping a stray line of drool dripping down the side of your mouth.

"Ch-Charles," you croak, throat still dry.

Charles and Oscar share a curt nod and the former moves to the head of the bed.

"Hands and knees, my love," Charles orders and you follow, getting on all fours. He settles against the headboard, leaning back as you take his cock in your hand.

"Guess you want me here, then?" Oscar says from behind you. You turn to peek over your shoulder to see Oscar stroking languidly at his cock, one of his hands coming down to spread your ass apart.

"Fuck, this view," Oscar hisses, smacking your ass once.

"I reckon, you don't need me to prep you? I can just–"

You shriek as you feel Oscar push in without warning, and though it was a surprise, the obscene amount of arousal coming from your cunt aids in the stretch that Oscar's cock brings.

He fully sheathes himself inside and he groans, grabbing your hips with both hands.

"Chèrie." Charles' voice forces your attention back to him.

"Don't forget about me, hm?"

You try to compose yourself as best as you can as Oscar starts to fuck you at a relentless pace. You lower your mouth down to Charles' cock, wrapping your lips around the tip.

You take half of him in, coating him in your spit, going lower each time you come down. Charles is nearly as incoherent as you were earlier, curse words in three different languages falling from his lips.

You feel the tip of his cock reach the back of your throat and you stop, gagging around it. Charles threads his fingers through your hair, yanking you back up.

"Open your mouth," Charles says, tightening the grip on your hair.

You do as you're told and Charles angles himself better. He holds you in place as he fucks up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat each time. You will your breathing to slow, but the constant assault on your pussy muddles your brain and destroys your focus.

"She's so fucking tight," Oscar says through gritted teeth. You can feel his nails dig into your sides.

"Here as well," Charles agrees. "So warm and so wet."

All you can do is sob as you let the two of them use you, filled up on both sides, reduced to nothing but two holes.

"Fuck, I wanna cum on her face," Oscar says hurriedly, hips slowing down, probably in an attempt to keep his orgasm at bay.

Charles pulls you back off of him and he surveys you for a second.

"And I'll do it inside," Charles says. "Will you let me cum inside, chèrie?"

You nod, unconsciously clenching around Oscar. He curses, speeding up his movements again.

"Mate, I can't take it anymore," Oscar rushes, pulling out. You whine at the loss but Charles is quick to get off the bed, replacing Oscar's place behind you.

You feel the Charles' tip press against your hole and you plead, rocking back, desperate to be filled up.

"Charles, please, n-need your cum in me," you stutter. "Wanna be filled up, I need it, need you, please–"

Charles slides in one swift motion and your eyes roll all the way back in your head. He's thicker than Oscar and the stretch is almost painful but in the best way possible.

The older of the two wastes no time and starts pounding into you, rendering you speechless at how brutal his pace is. You're dizzy with arousal, spit and tears mixing on your chin and cheeks.

"Look here, sweetheart," comes Oscar's voice, rough around the edges, his hand cupping your chin.

He's stroking his cock at an impossible pace, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You look straight into his eyes as you stick your tongue out, waiting for him to release all over you.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for it," Oscar sneers, gripping harder at your face. "Open wide."

A warm spurt of liquid shoots straight onto your tongue, landing on your cheeks as well. You squint as it hits nearer to your eyes but you obediently lick up everything you can from your lips, swallowing Oscar's thick cum down.

"Oh god, baby," Charles warns. "Je vais bientôt jouir–"

Charles presses you closer to him, caging your hips against his own. He groans and you feel him twitch within you. You clench down as hard as you can around him, earning your hair a harsh tug from behind. Charles yanks you back against him as he gives a few more thrusts to ride his orgasm out.

"We are not done with you yet, amour," Charles warns.

Oscar's face comes into view and he's eyeing you up and down, his thumb swiping at a stain of himself on your cheek. He brings it to your lips and you lick his digit clean.

"Good girl," Oscar praises. "But he's right. You can give us a few more, right?"

You swallow.

You nod.