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5sospenguinqueen · 1 month ago

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C2 or Sainz2 | Charles Leclerc x Sainz! Reader

Summary: Because being teased relentlessly by his teammate wasn’t enough for Charles, he decided to fall in love with Carlos' sister, and endure twice the bullying.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, a suggestive comment, a tiny hint at the loss of C2

Requested: Yes by @1800-love-me

F1 Masterlist

Sorry it took so long but I couldn't get inspo and then, the loss of C2 compelled me

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by scuderiaferrari, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc nice weekend home before we’re off again for 3 weeks

10,161 comments

ynsainz take this down! i can’t have people seeing how cute my baby is because then they’ll want to steal him

→ charles_leclerc for everyone talking about how sweet this is, she’s talking about leo

→ ynsainz people thought i was talking about you????

user1 is that an engagement photo??

→ carlossainz55 no. he hasn’t asked me for permission

→ ynsainz he doesn’t need to

→ carlossainz55 i’ll kill him and myself

→ charles_leclerc oh

user2 yn looks so pretty in this post

user3 can’t believe they’re celebrating their 4 year anniversary already

→ user4 i love that carlos joined ferrari and charles instantly stole his sister

ynsainz just posted

liked by fernandoalo_official, lilymhe and others

ynsainz ¡vamos! carlito. i know you’ll kick ass later otherwise you’ll be a disgrace to our home town 🇪🇸

5,516 comments

charles_leclerc you didn’t wear a monaco top when i was racing there?

→ ynsainz they don’t sell them?

→ arthur_leclerc if you really love him, you would’ve made one

→ carlossainz55 she’s not monegasque so why would she

→ pascale.leclerc she will be one day

→ user5 !!!

user6 i love that yn treats carlos like her little brother, instead of her being the baby sister

→ ynsainz mentally, i am older

→ carlossainz55 ay, no

user7 can charles fight?

→ charles_leclerc yes

→ carlossainz55 no

user8 yn sainz is my favourite thing about f1

user9 the sainz-leclerc family is definitely the best thing ferrari has done

scuderiaferrari just posted

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scuderiaferrari our favourite thing to photograph

13,333 comments

user10 i swear charles looks at carlos in the same way he looks at yn

→ ynsainz try being at family dinner. i don’t exist to either of them

→ user11 i love when she roasts the both of them

ynsainz alternative caption: they may suck on track but our drivers excel at staring lovingly into each other’s eyes

→ charles_leclerc you told me i was your favourite driver!

→ carlossainz55 ¡vete a la mierda! it’s been me since she was born

→ ynsainz it’s actually lewis

→ iamrebeccad great, now he’s crying. thanks, yn

user12 wait until max sees this post. he’ll be asking red bull to post him and charles again

→ user13 poor yn has to keep fighting all these drivers for her polly pocket boyfriend liked by ynsainz

→ charles_leclerc, no, ma chérie, you’re to tell them i’m big

→ user14 um, charles, that’s not something you’re meant to say on the internet

charles_leclerc just posted

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charles_leclerc driving, dinner and…

12,094 comments

user15 and date night!

landonorris was she as bad at karting as carlos says?

→ charles_leclerc i mean, she is definitely not as good a teammate as carlos

→ ynsainz omg just date him already!

→ ynsainz at least there isn’t multiple videos of me being a bad driver on the streets of monaco

→ charles_leclerc low blow, mon amour

→ arthur_leclerc ha, she’s got you there

user16 charles saw all the comments saying we’d steal his girl and decided to remind us who she belongs to liked by charles_leclerc

user17 ��being dicked down! yn getting all the d’s liked by ynsainz

user18 countdown to carlos sainz meltdown in 3…

→ user19 2…

→ user20 1…

carlossainz55 GET OFF MY SISTER

carlossainz55 THAT IS NOT HOW YOU TREAT A LADY OF HER STANDING

→ ynsainz what if she liked it

→ carlossainz55 ew ew ew ew ew

→ charles_leclerc ma belle, stop trying to get me castrated

scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by iamrebeccad, lec and others

scuderiaferrari competition always give us the best of C2

15,884 comments

user1 carlos being the spanish version of charles. their love was written in the stairs

→ ynsainz okay, i get it! the whole universe is against me

user2 they’re literally twins. same expressions, same body language

→ ynsainz take this down before i puke

→ charles_leclerc she’s refusing to kiss me now

carlossainz55 i definitely won. admin clearly counted the points wrong

user3 they’re always so competitive haha

→ ynsainz we’re not allowed family games night anymore because it always ends in tears

→ carlossainz55 yeah, charles’

→ charles_leclerc no! yn, tell him

→ charles_leclerc that was one time and we agreed not to talk about it!

carlossainz55 just posted

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carlossainz55 the second best couple i know just got engaged. congratulations, hermanita. i am so happy for you tagged: ynsainz, charles_leclerc

21,667 comments

user4 did you cry?

→ ynsainz yes, he did. but only because he was losing the love of his life to his siter

→ carlossainz55 oy, you should be nice to me. i helped set up those flowers

arthur_leclerc i am so happy for yn to join the family

→ charles_leclerc @/carlossainz55 see, this is how family reacts. not calling us the second best couple

→ carlossainz55 but i know me and rebecca

scuderiaferrari we take full responsibility for this. after all, we made C2 teammates. we expect to see a ferrari themed wedding

→ ynsainz don’t give them ideas!

pierregasly i cannot believe he finally did it. only taken him 3 years of talking about

→ ynsainz that is the cutest thing i’ve heard

→ carlossainz55 not if you had to listen to him plan it 55 different ways

oscarpiastri does this make yn my step mother

→ ynsainz no. don’t you dare call me that

→ charles_leclerc yes it does, son

user5 charles better not wear that bloody ferrari suit to his own wedding

→ carlossainz55 already convincing him to do it

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request open, i write for most drivers (aside from a few) and some of the retired drivers

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @iloveyou3000morgan @justaf1girl @teamnovalak

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of-many-fandomss · 9 months ago

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Drinks and Jackets

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you

warnings: drinking, slight cursing

word count: 0.9k

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

A long sigh left Lando’s lips as he pushed his bedroom door open, stumbling slightly in his steps as he did so, needing to cling onto the door frame for support so he didn’t go flying face first into the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

After inhaling a deep breath from his nose- the man's eyebrows furrowed in concentration- he pushed off of the frame and attempted to shrug his jacket off of his shoulders. Which only ended in him banging into the wall next to his bed with a small, “Ow,”.

“Lan?” A soft voice rang through the darkness of the room after the thud was emitted.

Norris jumped at least a foot into the air with a small, high pitched squeal of surprise, whipping around with wide eyes just in time to see a figure turn on the lamp beside the bed.

You were tiredly rubbing at your eyes, pushed up on one elbow as you looked at him from across the room, imminently taking note of his wide eyes and tousled hair. Not to mention the fact that he only had one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

Slight amusement crept onto your features when you realized you had startled him, though a hint of guilt kept you from openly laughing as you gently asked, “Are you alright?” Sleep lacing your tone.

The wide eyes of Lando didn’t shrink. In fact, they only seemed to widen as he looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads right before his very eyes, “Who are you?” He hissed, panic and confusion seizing his tone.

At his words, all of the exhaust suddenly disappeared from your body and you finally pushed yourself to fully be sitting up, now wide awake and alert, “What-”

You didn’t even get to finish voicing your bewilderment before Lando- literally- stumbled over his own feet to reach the opposite side of the bed you were sitting on, “That’s my girlfriend's spot!” He exclaimed, eyes still wide as he stared at you.

Your eyebrows drew downwards, “I know, it-”

“Listen, I’m warning you lady, you need to get out of here before she gets back.” He was nodding along to his own words. While he clearly thought he was looking very serious- and maybe even threatening- it was difficult to even consider him whilst he looked hilarious. Clearly drunk and jacket half hanging off of him.

And just like that, the mumsnet flickered back inside of you and a slow grin slowly lifted the corners of your lips, “Is that so?” You asked, playing along when you realized just how drunk he was.

Lando nodded again, “Yeah, and she could kick your ass.” He said it so matter of factly with his chin raised, clear pride laying in his words, even as wasted as he currently was.

Unable to hold it back anymore, you let the first chuckle slip out of your lips as you pushed yourself to your knees and made your way over to the other side of the bed until you were in front of him at eye level.

You reached out and hooked your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at him lovingly, “And what if I wanted to kiss you right now?” You teased.

Just as the brunette man's eyes widened in a panic and he looked as though he was going to move to swat you away, he froze, blinking once. Twice. Three times at you.

“Love?” He looked like a little, lost puppy dog when he tilted his head to the side, the first bit of recognition flaring through his eyes when he finally realized that it was you in front of him, not some random girl sleeping in his bed.

“You had fun with Carlos and Danny, I take it.” You joked, subconsciously toying with his curls.

“Oh, love, I missed you so much.” Lando gushed suddenly, face automatically becoming alight and housing a lovesick expression.

A laugh escaped your lips as the man wrapped his arms around your center and brought you both flying down onto the mattress before holding you close, his eyes already shutting as he let out a hum of content.

You chuckled, watching as he snuggled closer to you, inhaling the scent of your hair with his eyes still squeezed shut.

Gently, you maneuvered the two of you so that his head was resting against your chest and you were the one cradling him. He let you do so without an ounce of argument, the soft smile still sitting on his lips as he held you close.

Despite the fact that his jacket was still only half off of him and he was yet to change out of his clothes that he was in to go out, you knew from past experience that there was nothing on earth that could pull Lando off of you at that moment. Even to get fully ready for bed.

So, instead, you held him close, running your fingers through his hair after flicking off of the lamp light and waited for your boy to fall asleep.

“I love you,” The words were mumbled against your old sleep shirt with the man himself being halfway to sleep.

“I love you too, Lan.” You dipped your head to place a lingering kiss on the man's forehead, “So much.”

#lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months ago

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How they’d react to you not kissing/hugging him before leaving for a mission…

Dick acts as though you told him his ass isn’t that fat in his spandex suit-

He’s insulted.

You always, always remember to kiss his cheek before he leaves. His ‘good luck, be safe and kick ass’ cheek kiss!

It’s your thing as a couple! Do you want to see him cry because he fucking will! He’ll do it!

Dick will pout, huff and whine loud as possible in hopes that you’d realise your error and rectify it tenfold. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. No, he wants and expects you to figure it out for yourself, which doesn’t get him anywhere when you’re looking at him confused and lost as to what he was whining about; Literally.

His mood will be down for the entirety of the day and you’ll no doubt have texts from his teammates and family members asking what was wrong with Dick to look so down.

You’re just as confused as them seeing as how Dick didn’t disclose his innermost thoughts and feelings to you despite being his partner, so you were at a loss on how to help them with something even you weren’t privy to knowing…it’s probably one of your biggest issues as a couple but that’s for another time.

Dick will do that pathetic thing where he looks back at you expectantly the closer he gets towards the door, even going so far as to walk extremely slow when he was within reaching distance of the door handle as to buy you enough time to notice before he genuinely had to leave.

When you don’t however, Dick acts like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day and will proceed to exaggerate to anyone with ears about how his lover was restricting him of his affection.

On the other hand, If you do manage to remember to give him a good luck kiss, planting an extra one on his other cheek for extra, extra luck. Dick will have a permanent smile on his face that will not go the fuck away, even when he’s beating someone’s ass, the smile remains glued on his face as though with gorilla glue.

Seeing Dick brutally beat someone’s ass with a smile was horrifying for anyone to witness but it’s okay bc he’s happy that you remembered to kiss him good luck.

Jason will immediately call you out on your bullshit.

And by that I mean cross his arms over his chest and stare at you saying. ‘Well?’

And you’re like: ‘well what?’

And he’s like: ‘where’s my good luck kiss that you owe me? Roy is waiting on me and here I am waiting on my kiss, so give me my kiss chipmunk.’

Jason doesn’t piss about and gets to the meat of the issue at hand. He wants his good luck kisses and he wants them now and he will not leave the apartment until he gets them.

You’d raise a brow at his not so subtle neediness for your affection and decided to tease him. ‘I thought you didn’t need my good luck kisses remember? You’re a big boy who can fight with or without my good luck kisses.’

Jason groans, not expecting you to pull that out. ‘I said that one time. One time and I was being a dick back then too because all you wanted to do was show me that you cared about me and didn’t want me to get hurt.’

You smiled and got up from the couch and walked over to him, resting your hands on his biceps. ‘So now that you admit that you were a dick and the way that you acted was wrong…’ you trailed off as you pressed a kiss to his lips once, twice, three times because you loved to kiss Jason whenever possible and will try to plant as many kisses as you could.

‘Thanks chipmunk.’ Jason murmurs against your lips, feeling everything has gone back to being right again. ‘Now I better be off or Roy will tease me for lingering too long-‘

‘Too late.’ Roy said from the doorway and Jason closed his eyes and silently curse while you smiled and waved at Roy. ‘Hi Roy!’ You said. ‘Hi y/n, mind letting Jason come out to play?’ Roy joked. You played along by making a thoughtful face as Jason mutters under his breath; ‘are you being serious right now?’

You snapped your fingers. ‘As long as you make sure Jason doesn’t get into trouble then yes, he may go out and play.’

‘I hate you both.’ Jason groaned as he walked past you and playfully shoved Roy aside to leave the apartment. Roy then cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted after him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want your goodbye kisses?’ You and Roy laugh together upon hearing Jason cursing him out from a distance.

Damian acts indifferent about it.

He doesn’t need a good luck hug, hell! he doesn’t need luck at all!

He’s skilled enough to win any fight without relying on something silly as Luck. Luck was just probability under a different name and definition. (A/n: Don’t quote me on that.)

So when you forget to give him a hug before a mission, Damian doesn’t think anything of it but it will linger in his mind unnecessarily much to his annoyance.

Why was he so hung up on not getting something a silly as a hug? Or was he instead more upset over the fact that you, his closest friend/partner, completely forgot about it as though it wasn’t anything worth remembering.

Either way he was conflicted and didn’t know how to go about saying any of this to you without getting frustrated over his apparent loss for words. He was a man of action more then anything so when he finally catches up to you, he will stride towards you and stop just a couple of inches and silently stare at you with his resting bitch face.

‘Damian?’ You asked. ‘Are you okay?’

Damian doesn’t say anything because he couldn’t think of anything to say in that moment and instead stays silent as to save himself from further embarrassment.

‘Damian?’ You asked again, getting worried over his unusual silence. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Damian had lunged towards you and brought you into a very tight hug. You smile softly and gladly hugged Damian back, not saying a single word other then;

‘You don’t need me to say it but I’ll reaffirm it anyway, you’ll do great out there Dami. I know you will.’

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simpjaes · 4 months ago

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Loser jake who's just so pussydrunk™️ that he overstimulates tf out of reader and reader tries to crawl away but he just pulls them back and begs them for one more he promises he will be good :(( (we love loser!jake in this household 🫶)

the one where jake, a super loser, accidentally gives the best and most painful head. warning: jake is SUCH a fucking loser fr, like he has fumbled every girl ever before this.

It's not even that he's a loser, it's just that you never knew someone so fucking awkward could eat this aggressively.

yet, there he is, rubbing his nose in it like a puppy being scolded. You could argue he's enjoying it more than you are if his moans are anything to go by. Only because he's already gotten you off twice this way, and has yet to stop and let you breath.

Your legs have grown so weak that you can't even close them in an attempt to squeeze his head away, and all that's left now is the energy left in your arms. You release his hair, where you were trying to pull him back but he, instead, endures the pain of you trying to make him stop.

He knows it feels good for you, he can tell by the way your clit swells and throbs in his mouth. He couldn't stop even if you begged, even if you kicked him square in the face. He'd find his way back and attach these slick lips right back to you, yearning, fucking pining for one more. Just one more.

And upon that release of his hair, you grip the rug under you, trying to pull yourself up and away from him. Stuttering, almost sobbing at the sensitivity of it all, but he just drags you back down. Hands on your hips preventing you from escaping the relentless assault.

Only when you finally give in, when he releases a guttural moan/growl right into your sopping cunt do you break for a third time. It hurts, god it hurts so bad, but at the same time you can't help but call out his name desperately. As if inviting him for a fourth, or even a fifth orgasm.

A mistake on your part, truthfully, because his tongue only goes stiffer at that, and now he's got three fingers fitting inside of you just to prolong the painful orgasm. So messy with it too, you can feel the slippery heat as he slides his tongue up and down, in and out of each fold and crevasse your pussy offers.

Only when the tears start falling and you go silent does Jake pull up to breathe a true and intentional full breath. He looks at you, pupils blown out wide and mouth slack.

"I did good?" He asks, anticipating some sort of praise, and all you can do in your half-dissociated state is laugh.

This motherfucker? The Jake Sim who managed to fumble girl after girl? The Jake Sim who made you pity him during this short project session of an assignment, admitting that since college started, he hadn't landed a single hookup? The same guy who dead ass asked if you wanted him to leave when you laid down on this floor and spread your legs for him? Enticing him, fucking seducing him to try his skills out on you? He's asking if he did good? Despite the pain, and ignoring the way you can't even sit yourself up to look at him clearly, all you can do is nod in a daze. "Where did you learn how to do all that?" You mumble incoherently. Jake simply shrugs. "Ionno, i watch a lot of porn I guess."

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enhypen hard hours

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hhughes · 3 months ago

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៹࣪ ៸៸ HOME TO YOU . . . ꒱꒱

𐙚 fic ; in which quinn comes home to you after a long road trip

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. quinn hughes x gf!reader 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff and domesticity. smut. mdni. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Quinn steps through the door of your shared apartment, dropping his bags at the door with a thud and removing his shoes. He knows you’re going to scold him for leaving his stuff there but right now he can’t find it in himself to care if it means he gets to see you a little sooner. He lets out a big sigh as exhaustion settles into his bones. It’s the type of exhaustion that no matter the amount of sleep he got on the plane, won’t be sated until he gets into his own bed, with you.

He makes his way into the living room, where he finds you curled up on the couch with some movie softly playing in the background. His lips curl up when he hears soft snores from you, indicating you were asleep. He always tells you to go to bed but you never listen, always opting to wait up for him instead and he couldn’t be happier that you did because although he has to wake you up, it means he doesn’t have to wait a minute longer to see you.

“sweetheart,” he whispers softly, gently brushing some hair away from your face as your eyes flutter open.

“quinn…You’re home?” you ask groggily, a little disoriented and he takes a seat next to you as you sit up, pulling you into his side.

“I’m home baby,” he confirms, kissing your temple.

Both of you sit there for a few minutes, not saying anything, simply enjoying being in one another’s company for the first time in a few days.

“I put your towel in the drier, so it’s warm when you get out of the shower. I washed the sheets so the bed needs to be made, so I’m gonna do that while you take a shower and I’ll meet you in bed?” you ask and quinn’s heart grows twice the size with pure love for you.

You put his towel in the drier so it would be extra warm. You washed the sheets because you know he likes the feeling of clean sheets after a long road trip. He knows by the faint smell of ginger in the air, there’s a container of freshly baked cookies waiting for him on the kitchen counter, just like there is every time he comes home. Just like he knows you’ll be up before him tomorrow, while he sleeps in. Making him breakfast, and throwing his laundry in the wash so that he doesn’t have to worry about it.

“I’ll be quick,” he assures you, his voice a bit thick by his sudden overwhelming thoughts of love for you.

After his shower quinn joins you in bed, pulling you close. You turn around to look up at him, running your hands over his cheek and pulling him closer to attach your lips. A few kisses later, quinn is sitting up against the headboard, your legs on either side of his hips as you straddle him.

“I missed you,” quinn groans, head falling back as his hands squeezing your ass, pressing your clothed cores together.

“I missed you more,” you mumble against his neck, where your kisses had already begun leaving marks on his pale skin.

quinn puts both hands on your waist, lifting you up to stand on your knees as he pulls down your shorts. You help him by removing your shirt, kicking your pants off the bed and his eyes naturally fall to your breasts, buds hardening in the cold. He wraps both arms around you and pulls you closer, his face level with your chest, pressing kisses there.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs

“quinn, please. I’ve already waited long enough, please don’t make me wait any longer,” you whine and he grins up at you. Both of you aware who’s really controlling the situation despite you hovering above him.

“You’re always so desperate baby, huh? Is that what being away from me does to you? Turns you into a needy little slut?” he asks, tongue circling your nipple, his hand playing with the other one.

“Please” is your only response and quinn gives in, pushing you back a bit to remove his boxers, his only article of clothing and pulling you closer again, his hand wrapped around his dick, lining it up with your entrance.

“Only cause you asked so nicely,” he says, gripping your hips tightly as you sink down onto him. There was nothing like those first few seconds of being inside you. quinn was convinced nothing would ever compare. He wondered if lifting the Stanley Cup would bring him as much euphoria as you.

Your hands grip the headboard behind his head, causing you to bend forward, practically shoving your breasts in his face, not that he was complaining. The change in angle causing both of you to moan when he enters you again.

“Fuck baby, you always feel so good,” he groans against your skin, his hand trailing between your legs and thumb lazily rubbing circles across your clit.

“quinn,” you moan, your hands moving from the headboard to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, leaving marks behind, just how he likes it. Your hips still, legs getting tired and unable to do much else but feel pleasure as quinn continues to rub your clit.

“That’s not nice baby, I just got home from a four game road trip and you’re making me do all the work,” he says, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it, causing you to arch your back. His other hand lands on your ass with an audible smack when you don’t answer.

“Can’t even be bothered to answer? Too cockdrunk to even think aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks, not giving you time to try and formulate a response before both his hands slide to your hips, lifting you up and down in time with his thrusts. You can’t do anything but take it, like a little toy for him to use. The thought sends you over the edge, causing you to clench around him and he finishes inside you.

You both sit there for a few minutes, quinn still inside you. Just being close and savoring the moment waiting for your heart rates to go down.

“I love you,” he says softly, kissing you gently.

“I love you too. Welcome home.” you whisper, kissing his chest and tucking your face in his neck while his hands rub up and down your back.

He hates going on long roadies, but he loves coming home. Warm towels. Cookies. Fresh sheets. And you.

#quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #꒰ 📂 ꒱ — 𝓗hughes -> fics #꒰ 🗄️ ꒱ — 𝓗hughes

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fallenprophets · 2 months ago

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◦⭐︎・love lost

Ekko x reader

Summary: once a Firelight and Ekko's partner, you are now a mercenary, dragging yourself through jobs to make enough money to pay for food. After one too many drinks, you take a job you can't handle, and get hurt. It's no shocker who comes to your rescue.

Set at undefined time, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Warnings: gore (not too bad but be mindful), swearing, mentions of death/welcoming death. 3.2 K words (oops), not proofread as always

A/N: icl guys this is one of the longer fics I've written, and definitely the angstiest one. Again, for my best friend, @sahxrii (go check out her recs, they're SO good) who I do everything for, lets be honest.

You have always prided yourself for knowing your limits; stopping when you need to stop, being reasonable about your own abilities. This has kept you out of quite a lot of trouble- avoiding fights you could not have won, not provoking people who were clearly able to whoop your ass.

This, however, is very different, and not a common occurrence.

First of all, you might be a little drunk- you’ve just had to numb the sting of your day with a drink, just a small one, in a tiny grimy bar run by a tall man with bright orange skin. Second of all, you’re running on two hours of sleep and painkillers (the painkillers are slowly wearing off, to make matters worse).

And lastly, you’re in a really bad fucking mood.

So, when your handler slides you a note with a name and address written in ugly red letters, you think fuck it, and take the job. You should’ve known this was stupid- you should’ve done what the sober, not exhausted version of yourself would have done. But instead, you accept with a bleary nod, because, to be frank, all you want at that moment is to break something.

So you take the note, drain your drink, and leave the bar, shrugging on your worn coat. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz beneath your skin, your knuckles tingling softly in anticipation. You had never been this excited about violence when you were younger- in fact, people might have described you as gentle, even. But now, with all the things you have witnessed, all the people you’ve lost, hitting people brought a kind of release you could find nowhere else.

Besides, there’s no one who remembers you as that gentle person left, anyway, so who are you disappointing? Yourself? You chuckle drily into the cold air, thick with gas.

You stop in front of the building, your hands tucked into your pockets. It is big, red, and ugly (like the ink the name had been written in, you thought), bright colourful light shining from the broken windows. A Zaunite haunt, typical for a wannabe drug lord- the kind of man you were often hired to beat up or kill. You kick into the dirt at your feet, take a deep breath. You have hardly sobered up on the walk here, so your vision is still somewhat blurry, everything swimming around you like you’re underwater.

Broken memories of swimming in an underground lake with him flitter through your mind, and you dismiss them, muttering a curse between your teeth. You roll your shoulders and make your way inside, striding in like you own the goddamn place.

“You can’t be here,” a goon dressed all in black calls from the top of badly painted stairs. You look at him, an ugly grin splitting your face.

“Kick me out, then,” you say, your heart already beginning to beat a little faster.

Before you know, goons are coming at you from the sides, cracking their knuckles. The twat at the top of the stairs sneers down at you, his teeth oily and black.

“You don’t wanna do this,” a woman on your left growls. She’s twice as big as you, her arms covered in bright red, winding tattoos.

“I think I do,” you answer, raising your hands, which are already curled into fists.

She lunges first, and you catch her with a right hook in the jaw. She hardly falters, but you drive your knee into her stomach. Now, she stumbles, and you leap up, narrowly avoiding an attack from another goon. You grab goon number one- the woman- and smash your forehead into her face. Her nose explodes, red and white flying all over you as she falls backwards. You spin and grab the nearest object- a stool- and bring it smack into the second goon’s middle. He collapses, and you walk over to him, drop the stool on his head. He stops moving.

You turn to the giant of a woman, who is standing and looking at you with pure, unadulterated hatred. Her face is broken into bits, blood and spit dribbling down her chin. “Come on, then,” you say, cracking your already sore knuckles.

She throws herself at you, twice as angry as before. You dodge, but she catches you in the shoulder. Excruciating pain shoots through you, and you realise too late that she has wicked little claw-like contraptions on her fingers. She comes at you again, slashing wildly. You jump out of the way, once again catching a claw in the face. It slices open your left cheek; pain explodes all through the area, but you grin. A challenge- you’ve always liked that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a child’s voice screams at you to stop, to leave, to give up. The goon from the top of the stairs is gone. You falter when you notice this- he must be warning his boss, who is your target. You double your efforts, lunging at the woman. You manage to punch her in the stomach, but your second hit, aimed at her throat, is knocked out of the way as she drives her claws into your wrist. You scream, not really in pain but in sheer shock at the sharp metal slivers protruding from your skin.

“Should’ve left,” she sneers into your face. You spit into the bloody mess that was her nose and wrench your arm back, kicking her, hard, in the sternum. She stumbled backwards and you pull your weapon- a machete, sheathed against your back- out, spinning it around. She assesses you for a moment, with what you realise now are robotic eyes.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You are not fighting a person, you’re fighting a robot. Or something that’s half half- the blood spilling from her face gives you the idea that she might be made of flesh and bones, but those eyes- you’ve seen them before. She’s assessing your fight patterns, and she’s going to win.

You duck out of the way of another attack, but she manages to graze your neck with her claws. You slash wildly with your machete, to no avail- she avoids each blow easily, and the ones that do hit, she ignores happily.

Finally, one of your attacks hits- you aim the blow upwards, and the machete carves straight through her face. Blood, huge quantities of the stuff, gushes all over you, bone shattering under the power of your blow. You yank the machete out, momentarily stunned as she stumbles to her knees, eyes fizzing out.

“Fuck,” you pant, stumbling backwards, “fuck you.”

Your victory is short lived. More goons are coming down the stairs, armed to the teeth. You raise your weapon, ready to fight them all if it kills you, when you feel something strange. Your shirt has been sliced open- cold hair breezes around your stomach. You look down, and are somewhat horrified to find blood; your own blood.

All at once, you feel nausea hit. You stumble to your knees, gasping for air. She got you- you feel the pain shooting through now. She managed to sink her dirty claws into your stomach as if you were made of mist and gas.

Everything flickers in front of you as the last few days finally hit. You’re in so much pain, it’s almost incredible- had you been an author, you would have liked to write about this one day. It’s like your insides have been ripped out (they kind of have, you suppose) and set on fire, stomped on, pissed on- you almost laugh at the thought as your head hits the ground.

You can’t remember when you fell.

Your vision goes dark, flickering in and out. You see the goons approach you, pick you up unceremoniously. You are outside your body, floating somewhere beyond, watching through your eyes as they drag you outside. It is raining- you wish you could feel the raindrops on your face, one last time.

You laughed, holding out a hand. It had been a while since you had experienced rain- in the Firelights hideout, you are protected by the huge leaves of the tree; and the Firelights hideout has everything (and everyone) you could wish for, so why would you ever go outside?

But, after hearing you sigh softly and murmur something about the only thing you miss about your old home being the rain, Ekko made it his mission to bring it back. As soon as it rained again, he took you by the arm, promising a wonderful surprise. He offered to blindfold you, but you kindly refused when you saw that he intended to take you up the tree. You had climbed together, him guiding you gently upwards; and as you’d ascended, you had heard a beautiful, soft patter; a sound that made your heart beat speed up and your throat close. Finally, you had reached the top, and he had lifted the leaves to reveal a little area above the canopy, partly shielded from the rain with a makeshift structure made of leaves and cloth.

Now, you sat in this structure, your side flush against his, a hand held out to the pouring rain.

“Do you like it?” He asked softly, looking at you.

“Do I like it?” You cried, almost incredulous. “Yes, Ekko, I love it!” You turned to him, grinning so widely it almost hurt. “Thank you,” you added after a moment. “Thank you so much, Ekko.” He smiled too, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him, and Gods knew you’d never been happier.

You’re lying in an alleyway. It’s like you can physically feel the blood leaking from you, your life draining from the gash in your stomach and the holes in your arm. The goons have left, convinced you are dead- why didn’t they check your pulse, stupid bastards?

It has stopped raining, but you’re soaked to the bone, lying there in the dark. Someone has stolen your jacket and your machete.

You groaned as you lifted the jacket up to the light. A bright fabric, the colour of the sunset, now stained with dark greenish grey goo. You should have known that wearing your favourite jacket down into the mines was a stupid idea, but you’d done it anyway.

“Stupid,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping the jacket into a heap on the floor. You wondered briefly if it was salvageable, but deep down knew it wasn’t. You’d have to find a new one, which would be nowhere near as nice.

Someone knocked on your door, and a soft voice spoke your name.

“Come in,” you called, still staring sadly at your jacket.

Ekko stepped inside, his presence like warm sunlight. Despite the grief caused by the ruined jacket, you smile, turning to him instantly relaxing as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I hear your jacket got ruined,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you muttered in response. “Upsetting.” He laughed. “I have something for you.” You pulled away, moving your hands to his biceps and looking at him. “What, Ekko?” You already knew what he was going to show you, but it warmed your heart all the same.

“It’s not exactly the same colour,” he said apologetically, “but-“

You put a hand over his mouth, beaming. “I don’t care,” you said.

He smiled back at you, releasing you to pull something out of his bag. It was neatly folded, but he held it out to you. You shook it out, and found a jacket, almost identical to the one that you had just ruined; it was a slightly lighter shade of orange, and the pattern on the back was a tree instead of the flowers you’d had on your last one.

“You’re insane,” you said, in awe. You put the jacket on- it was a little too big, but who gave a shit? It was your jacket, gifted to you by your boy.

You blink back into consciousness, and almost screamed. The pain coursing through you is like nothing you’d ever imagined; like being electrocuted and burned and drowned all at the same time. Despite the gaping hole in you, you want to curl up, to shield yourself from the wet and cold and pain.

“Please,” you whimper into the ground, “please, no.”

It’s not that you don’t want to die. In fact, you welcome death- you see it as a release more than anything else, from the bullshit life you lead. But dying here, like this-

You start to cry, and you gag and retch as tears spill mercilessly.

You are about to give in- you have given in- when a bright light seems to fill your vision. It is green and orange and yellow and pink and warm and fills everything around you. For a moment you think you’ve died, and this is some kind deity welcoming you into the next life, whispering I forgive you don’t worry as it carries you away. But no, the truth is much harsher than that.

A face hovers into your field of vision, and warm hands tug your shirt upwards. You want to protest, but your throat is dry from all the retching and sobbing you’ve been doing. A cloth presses down into the wound in your stomach and you howl, eyes rolling back in your head as the pain grabs you by the throat and fucking throttles you.

“Stop,” you manage to whimper. “Why- why are you doing this?” Your voice is hoarse, you’re crying again as you try to shut out the pain.

You hear shouting- words like help and home and quick- and black out again.

When you come to, you are no longer lying wet and dying in an alleyway miles from home (where even is home anymore? It’s just you, and that orange jacket, which you don’t even have anymore).

Your surroundings slowly swim into focus (swimming, your brain sings, swimming in an underwater cave, hands on your waist, kisses all over). You are lying down, mercifully dry and warm. Pain pumps through you in waves, mostly coming from your wrist and your stomach. You wonder, again, if this is some afterlife- if so, it is far less cruel than your parents described.

But then, you turn your head, and pain sears through you.

But that is not what makes you cry.

He lifts his head instantly as he hears your quiet sobs, and he’s at your side, a hand carefully gripping yours (he’s avoiding the bloody bandage wrapped around your wrist, you realise), the other gently brushing soft fingers over your bruised face. “It’s okay,” he says, even though you think he doesn’t mean it. It’s not okay- you ran away, got yourself beat up, almost killed, and he’s had to rescue you. Of course it’s not okay.

“Ekko,” you whimper.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, stroking your hair away from his face. Instinctively, you curl away, wanting to hide your injury from him. He shakes his head, his eyes brimming with tears (or maybe you’re delusional, because who would cry over you?)

“I-“ Your words are lost in a pathetic sob, and you turn your face away from him.

“Don’t,” he says. A pause. “How are you feeling?”

You croak out what should’ve been fuck but instead comes out as a bad imitation . You would’ve laughed, in any other situation.

“What happened?” His voice is so soft, so kind, it makes you want to rip your eyeballs out and stuff them into your ears.

You shake your head. You don’t want him to know what you’ve been up to since you left the Firelights.

He lets go of your hand, and for a moment you think he’s leaving you. It wouldn’t surprise you, to be honest. But no, he doesn’t leave you. Instead, he leans over, inspects the bandages wrapped around your midsection. Your mind instantly flashes to him prodding it, digging his fingers into your wound and calling you names. You wouldn’t blame him.

“You’re an idiot,” he says finally, still glaring at your bandaged stomach.

“Excuse me?” That is the first full statement you manage to force past your shredded throat.

“You’re an idiot,” he repeats with just as much gusto. “I mean, how could you just go and do this?” He gestures at your injuries.

“I didn’t-“

“What, think? Yeah, I can tell.” His face is partly obscured, so you can’t tell what face he’s making.

“I-“

“You’re so stupid. I mean, did you really think you could survive taking on all of the goons in that building?” He snorts to himself. “At least tell me the pay was worth it.”

You’re somewhat incredulous. All the time you’ve known Ekko, he’s never been this outright mean to you.

“What-“ you sputter, unable to find the words.

“Did you not think for a moment that you might get killed?” He puts extra emphasis on the word killed, and it’s like a punch in the gut. When he turns his gaze onto you, you think you’d prefer to have the goons rip you apart than see him look at you like this ever again.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to say through a fresh tightening in your throat. Your eyes sting and you’re about to turn away when you see his expression.

He’s smiling.

“What?” You almost choke out. “What is it?”

His smile is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s the sunlight, shining through the leaves of the tree; it’s the rain gently pattering on the roof of your childhood home. It’s the smell of old books and wood.

It’s so painfully home.

Your eyes sting, and you turn your face away from him, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. He still smiles at you like that, after everything you’ve done.

He takes your hand again, his other beginning to gently trace patterns on the bandage on your stomach. It’s such a soft, kind gesture. He used to do that, you remember with a pang, when you two would lie in bed together: draw little patterns on your back with his fingers, when he thought you were asleep.

“It’s okay,” he says, and for the first time, you wholeheartedly believe him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, because those are the only words your throat will allow out. “I am.”

“I know,” he murmurs. He hesitates, then leans forwards, kissing your forehead gently. “Just…” he trails off, his gaze now focused back on your bruised face. “Don’t do that again.”

You promise him. Not with words, but with the feeling in your chest, the loosening of your lungs and throat as you watch him watch you. You promise him with the way your knuckles have stopped aching for more skin to break, with the way your eyes water again.

You promise him with all that you have, because that is the least you can do for him.

“I love you,” you mumble, almost sheepishly.

“I love you too,” he answers; there is no hesitation, no layered but only if… behind the words. He says it back with the same confidence he gives orders, the words more of a declaration than softly spoken pretty things.

“I’m sorry,” you add, after a few moments of just watching him breathe.

“I love you,” is his answer.

You shut your eyes, and he squeezes your hand.

#ekko #ekko arcane #ekko league of legends #ekko x reader #ekko arcane x reader #ekko league of legends x reader #ekko x yn #arcane league of legends x reader #arcane x reader #too many tags?#whoops #listened to AURORA on loop while writing this #ekko arcane angst #ekko x reader angst #bloodhoundsandplagues writes

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ladybyakuya · 8 months ago

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| I WISH YOU ROSES + KAIJU NUMBER 8.

+cw. —f!reader, smut headcanon + scenarios format, sort of exs to lovers, mature content, angst and hurt, comfort, alcohol consumption, established relationship

+syn.— making amends after the fight. who apologizes first? does it always end up with sex? or is he sleeping on the couch tonight?

+wc. —1.5k

+notes. — wanted it to be super smutty but ended up with angst instead. enjoy and scream in tags if you like it| redirect to blog navigation.

→ [ ICHIKAWA RENO ]

reno would stare at the screen of his mobile phone opening your message box yet not send a single text to you. he is a little stubborn. in the spur of the moment, he said, “maybe we had nothing, to begin with in the first place.” those were some heavy words. he won't disagree. even liquor isn't enough to drown his feelings about you. why do people drink to forget their love anyway? it's stupid. it's so stupid. he locks his phone and then buries his head in his hands murmuring, “god why can't I just call her?" the rusty fizzy flavor is threatening his throat again. his phone starts to vibrate and rings a little later making him jump a bit but his reflexes were quick enough not to get you a first full ring. “hello? babe? is that you?”

“just call her man.” Iharu drawls from the other side and disconnects the call even though he sits opposite him. Reno looks at him ungodly pissed until the prior speaks up, “don’t waste your anger on me, dude.” Reno’s phone rings again.

“you’re doing this on purpose, aren't you picking on me?” Reno tartly responds holding his phone towards him so sure about that Iharu is doing it again but that dimwit is so drunk that he has to lean forward, squint his eyes at the screen.

“no dudee. It's your girl—” Reno picks up the phone but he doesn't speak.

“are you at a bar right now? i just finished my work.”

“yes, I’m. can I go pick you up?”

“of’course you can but I got a cab. bye. text me the address.”

When you reach at the bar you could easily spot him. He is sitting at the corner in a secluded area. Ofcourse he is. Then, there is Iharu practically drooling on the table.

“why are you here?”

“what do you mean why I'm here? You texted the address.”

“yes but aren't you angry? At me?”

“yes but I know better than to take you seriously when you are that angry. ” he looks away from your face. “we can talk about it if you are still upset.” he shoots you a lazy smile and gets up.

“what about him?”

“what about who?” reno asks with pinched eyebrows.

Iharu’s snores are quite loud by now. You look at Reno holding your hand out. He doesn't protest. He gives you his phone and says his passcode. He gets you. His words are not drawly but rather slower than usual. At first, you intend to call Kafka but both of them being a pain in the ass you texted his vice-captain.

The can ride from bar to home was silent. Reno was laying his head down on your shoulder, eyes closed but a little fidgeting was there every now and then. As soon as you reach your apartment complex he got out, even leant against the wall while being on the elevator. He's sulking. It's adorable sometimes. When you reach your shared apartment he doesn't come in stands outside until you ask him to.

“i’m sorry.” reno says loud enough to kick out the drowsiness out of his body. “i'm sorry, babe.”

“well, it was partly my fault too but —” you grab his collar and pull him towards yourself. his defense system is useless against you. “but I'm going to make it memorable.” you say unbuckling his pants. As soon as his trousers hit the floor Reno closes the door with a kick while you go to your knees. “perhaps we should fight more,”

With his member in your hand you look up at him and then blink. once. twice. thrice. And then get up and walk inside your room. A few seconds of silence and then Reno is walking on your trail left by you apologizing for a few more times until you just shut him up with the most sloppiest toe curling blow job.

→ [ GEN NARUMI ]

“do not walk away from me. I'm not done talking yet.” Narumi's voice is perfectly flat devoid any splotch of anger or even frustration. he is leaning against the door as you move from kitchen counter to the dinning table carrying the dishes, then cooked meals and a water bottle. his eyes are going back and forth waiting for you to say something, anything or just yell at him. he can handle your blood and tears, not this silent treatment.

“well, don't treat me like I'm one of your missions and we are good.” you exclaim with a low voice while waving a hand as if you were talking to yourself but actually you just wanted to beckon him for dinner.

“i don't us to be just good. I want us to be better, to be comfortable in each other's presence, even in thoughts. . .” and now he is going to lecture you, like one of his subordinates. there is an agonizingly awful silence filling the room as you wait for him to continue but he is just there, standing, still silent.

you turn your chair to spare a look at him. his stance is still the same, lazy and nonchalant. he isn't mocking you or your love for him. he genuinely cares for you.

“i mean it.” he starts walking towards you in faster pace than usual. “and you know that.” he stands in front of you looking like a kicked puppy. the moment you leave your seat he is going to pounce on you like a wounded animal. this has happened before and last time it hurt a lot. so you don't get up instead just turn around to eat.

He grabs your wrist before you can even touch the food. “I said we’re not done talking.” he almost yells. seeing you flinch he sighs deeply before he gets on his knees and rests his head on your lap. “we submit are phones after turning it off. that's why I didn't know— that you were coming early from work. we work in different departments so we have different rules too. you can ask around. they'll tell you.”

“why didn't you say that earlier? was the whole fight really necessary?” you said with utter frustration laced underneath your voice.

“shouldn’t i at least get the benefit of doubt?” he looks at you placing his chin on your thighs.

you stroke his hair and he closes his eyes. “yes but — umm— never mind.” you say running your thumb over his lips. he graces a glance at you before running his hands on your back tracing up to your shoulders, he is crouching now and then pull away your top. now you're naked and sitting on a chair as he is standing. he throws the top away and sits on his knees again. hooking his arms around your calf muscles he licks in between your legs. “this is payback.” he whispers. your panty is still on and all Narumi is doing is licking slowly over the cloth, sometimes barely touching but if this is the payback you don't mind it at all, unlike last time.

→ [ HOSHINA SOSHIRO ]

Hoshina is the one who gives you the silent treatment even if he is at fault. He doesn't want his anger to harm you in any way, be it due to you or due to himself. He is not much of an angry person to begin with but somehow he just loses it for you. Maybe that's his protective instinct for you or the fear of melting the cocoon he created for his own protection. Either way, it's frustrating. It's frustrating enough that he keeps telling you how you should not put yourself in danger to protect him in a field mission yet you keep disobeying him at every mission. Either you are mocking him or trying to take his position which by the way both are wrong given the fact that you are his subordinate. He sat on one of the benches in the training room. he is too frustrated to concentrate on training.

“you know, you can let your anger out right? on me?”

Hoshina looks at you, pupils ever so still like a moonlight pond on a windless night. That's exactly what he doesn't want. don't you get that? you're wearing your night dress not your suit, which means you were either waiting for him or going to bed.

“i'm not mad at you.” he sighs. “not even myself. just at the situation in general. i know it's your instinct to protect people but sometimes . . .” he trails off looking at his fisted hand. he unfists his hand again.

“i can take it all, you know?. be it your love or anger. . .” Hoshina looks at you keeping his bottle aside. he swallows before leaving his place and dragging you inside the training room, the door still not closed.

“are you sure about that my love?” he graces his hands in between your thighs while whispering. you give him a nod. “let's see how long you last.” as his hand rubs against your entrance his mouth starts to suckle over your nipples as his other hand pins both of your hands above your head. the night suddenly feels long and breezy.

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seresinhangmanjake · 10 months ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair.

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass.

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut.

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says.

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster.

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door.

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus.

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from.

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment.

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms.

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis.

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors.

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key.

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans.

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel.

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear.

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his.

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fic #cod ghost #cod fic #mw2

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redflagshipwriter · 1 year ago

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Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) chapter 5 progress

“Hey!” Duke hollered, as soon as Jason put the key in his door. “Welcome back, loser!”

Danny huffed out a laugh.

“Hey yourself,” Jason called out, holding the door open and making sure Danny got in before he closed it behind them. “Scruffy little brother, this is Danny. Danny, this is Duke.”

“Wait, what?” Duke skidded into the room on socked feet, eyes wide and mouth grinning in confused delight. “I didn't know you had any friends!”

“Oh, we're not friends,” Danny reassured him easily, missing Jason's scowl. “Just dating. So there's still no proof that he has friends.” He winked obnoxiously.

Jason could see the moment Duke shut down and rebooted twice as excited.

Christ. He quietly cursed to himself and ducked his head to hide the burning in his cheeks as Danny bounced over to hold his hand out. He was never beating the allegations of favoritism after this, Jason sighed.

Danny was a little sun spot when he chirped, “Nice to meet you, I hear you're the generous distributor of games?”

“Yeah, that request makes sooo much more sense now.” Duke met Danny's hand with a friendly slap and then went in for a hug. Jason cringed at the familiarity- but apparently it was the right move. Danny went for it, backslapping Duke amiably. They separated. Danny thoughtfully held Duke at a distance, hands on his shoulders.

“I see. So, you're my true opponent?” At Duke's nod, Danny smiled with a few too many teeth. He leaned in to hold intense eye contact. “Gonna kick your ass,” Danny vowed.

“You can try, old man,” Duke shot back. They separated with grins. “I’ll set up. Jason, your taste is so much better than I thought it would be.”

Jason made an offended noise. “Wait, what?”

Duke gestured at him with one lazy hand as he unlatched the top of his backpack and started withdrawing games. “I figured you would exclusively date super serious tough types.”

“... I'm tough,” Danny said morosely.

Jason resisted the urge to cackle. He didn't disbelieve it at all! Size wasn't everything. But the uh, the big baby eyes and slumping shoulders really weren't selling the toughness.

Duke shrugged, brutal and unconcerned with the damage he was leaving in his wake. “I was thinking more like a forensic accountant who collects rocks and cage fights literally just for the fitness benefits.”

Jason took a moment to consider that theoretical accountant. He would date that person. They sounded well rounded. It was a sensible career, a chill hobby, and a reasonably active lifestyle. What was wrong with that? He frowned to himself. What was Duke even implying??

“I would date that accountant,” Danny reluctantly admitted. He seemed disgruntled about it. “I don't cage fight, sorry to disappoint. You can't imagine how much my sister would kill me if I tried.”

“It's fine,” Jason reassured, making a mental note of a sister and the potential for quantifiable subsequent deaths. “Me either.”

He could, though. He thought about it for a moment. He'd kick so much ass. That would be a fun way to give Bruce a heart attack.

Duke snorted, but thankfully said nothing else. Jason didn't want to hear what Duke thought about his odds in cage fighting. Jason knew what was in his heart and that it was fighting potential.

The game Duke and Danny settled on was a multiplayer racing game. Jason dutifully tried. His car bounced along and beat out all but one of the computer's characters. He endured two rounds before he bowed out and leaned back to watch the other two trash talk each other.

Honestly, these games were repetitive and pretty boring. Jason zoned out and stretched. He was laying his arm along the back of the couch before he realized that was a bad idea.

He froze, forearm just barely brushing against the back of Danny's neck. Danny… didn't seem to care.

Well. Jason let his arm relax. It was only weird if Danny thought it was weird.

Duke glanced over out of the corner of his eye and gave Jason a cat-faced smirk. Jason raised his hand just enough to show off his favorite finger.

“Hey, gimme a min?” Duke said. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Liar. Sneaking liar, Jason thought fondly. He was going to try to spy and see what they did when he left the room.

Danny hit the pause button and let the controller drop to the sofa. “Yeah, go piss girl,” he drawled.

Jason cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Duke just laughed, so that must have been some kind of reference. He clambered over the back of the sofa and gave Danny's shoulders a light push on his way past.

Danny went with the motion and bumped into Jason with a giggle. Jason endured it patiently, bemused but enjoying that they were both happy.

The bathroom door shut behind Duke.

Danny leaned further into Jason and contorted his neck at a frankly precarious angle to look up at him. “Are you having fun?” He checked. Danny's ear brushed against Jason's chest in a way that he was hyper aware of. There was line of concern between his eyebrows that Jason kinda wanted to smooth away with a thumb.

#red check yes #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #dc fanfic

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auras-moonstone · 1 year ago

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Hi, I love your work so much!! How about some hockey player!ethan and figure skater!reader? Maybe some enemies to lovers? Have a great day<3

everything has changed — ethan landry

word count: 2,150

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x figure skater!fem!reader

summary: as punishment for his suspension, ethan is forced to become y/n's skate partner for a few weeks

Y/N AND ETHAN STOOD STILL INSIDE THE OFFICE AS THE INFORMATION SINKED INTO THEIR BRAINS. Their coaches looked at each other, wanting to ran off the room as to not deal with the eventual fury that would come from the teenagers that everyone knew despised each other.

"No fucking way!" Y/N finally exclaimed, harshly, as Ethan said at the same time, "I'd rather tore my ACL."

The boy's sentence earned him a glare from his coach. "Don't even joke about it, Landry."

"Y/N, it’s the only option. Unless you have someone else in mind who can replace James."

The girl’s shoulders slumped—she didn't, and as much as she didn't like Ethan, he was kind of perfect for the part. He skated flawlessly and he lifted weights twice as heavy as the girl, so he would have no problem lifting her for the tricks. But there was this tiny detail—Ethan Landry was the most infuriating, annoying and self-centered guy in the whole university. And now she needed him, which made him even more frustrating.

Y/N's skating partner broke his arm and the competition was five weeks away, and if she wanted to compete, she had to push her hatred aside for a few weeks.

"And I wasn't asking you, Landry. It is an order. Consider it your punishment, learn to be professional." his coach said in a determined tone.

Ethan sighed and covered his face with his hands. He had been suspended from hockey for three games after beating the opposite team's defense player almost into oblivion. The ice had been tainted scarlet and his knuckles still hurt, even he knew he had crossed a line. But after the player said the nastiest of things about his family, he couldn't think straight. And here he was now, forced to become a figure skater for three weeks with the girl he loathed the most in the world.

"After you, my love." Ethan said in a sour voice, holding the door of the office open for her. He had a smile so false that Y/N was tempted to slap it off his unfairly pretty face. He loved pushing her buttons, so when he saw her face of annoyance he wanted to infuriate her even more. Y/N rolled her eyes and walked out the room, with the tall boy on her tail. "Wow, no ‘Thank you, Ethan! You're a real gentleman’?"

"Must have been hard not being an asshole for a whole second, right? It didn't give you an aneurysm?" she matched his false smile.

"No, but working with you for sure will." Ethan retorted. "On a positive note, I'll get to see you in sexy leotards."

"Pig" she muttered under her breath. "And I'll get to see you on leggings."

Ethan stopped walking and inspected her face, looking for any signs that told him she was joking "Wait, what?"

She smirked, enjoying the moment. "That's what figure skaters wear, genius."

"I won't wear that."

"Yes, you will, pretty boy. Don’t be a baby about it.” she said, and he flipped her off. He hated her so much. “See you tomorrow."

“Unfortunately.” he said loud enough for her to hear. She rolled her eyes as she walked away, she hated him so much.

THEY HAVEN'T EVEN GOT INTO THE ICE RINK AND ETHAN HAD ALREADY PISSED Y/N OFF. He had been inside the locker room for fifteen minutes now, and didn't want to step out. Y/N was two seconds away from kicking the door down.

"Landry get your ass out of that room right now! We are wasting our time!" she banged on the door furiously.

"You don't understand! I can't wear this, Y/L/N." Ethan yelled.

"Every skate figure wears leggings, Landry. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yes, there is. This leggings are too tight, Y/N. Too tight."

Y/N sighed. "Let me see."

"No way!"

"Stop testing my patience, Landry. Let me see or I'll go in."

A few seconds later, she heard the turn of the handle and the door flew open. The air got stuck on her throat and a strangled sound left her mouth. The rumours going around the university were true, she couldn’t help thinking.

"Holy mother of God" she said loudly, gaze fixed on the problem. "That's too tight"

"That's what I've been saying for the past fifteen minutes!" he yelled frustrated.

"I thought you were exaggerating."

"Are you talking to me or my dick?" Ethan frowned, seeing how she wasn't looking at his face, gaze fixed on his huge bulge.

Y/N was brought back from the shock and finally looked away. "I'm so sorry! That was not okay of me, it's just... shocking."

"That I have a big dick? Ouch, I'm wounded."

"No! I mean- not that I ever thought about it. But I didn't expect I would ever find out" she couldn't have been blushing more. As much as she hated him, she wasn't stupid. Ethan Landry was the most attractive boy on college.

"Whatever. What am I going to do? I can't practice like this."

"Just put your gym shorts above the leggings. And hurry up."

She turned around to leave when he called her name. "I'll never get tired of seeing you in a leotard" Ethan winked at her before closing the door of the locker room.

What was his obsession with leotards? Y/N asked herself as she rolled her eyes. And as she made her way to the ice rink, she tried to ignore the fact that her whole body had turned warm after his words.

While putting his skates on, Ethan watched Y/N going over the routine. There were very scarce the times where he saw her without a scowl on her face or firing insults at him, and that was only when she was on the ice. Her face glowed and she was completely hypnotic. She moved around so flawlessly and elegantly that it was impossible to look away from her, you could tell that she truly loved being on ice. As much as he disliked her, Ethan couldn't deny that Y/N was beyond professional and one of the best skaters he had ever seen.

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked him, sliding towards the edge of the rink. Ethan got out of his daze and nodded. “Okay, so obviously this is not the same as hockey, but I’ve seen your moves and I don’t think you’ll have problems doing this routine. But if you don’t understand something, speak up and we’ll work on it.”

Ethan nodded. “Wait, what do you mean you have seen my moves?” he asked as they got into position.

“I’m a huge hockey fan, and I don’t miss any of Blackmore’s matches. So yeah, I’ve seen you play countless times.”

“Am I your favourite player?” he asked with a smirk.

“Let’s get to work.” she rolled her eyes. But the answer, even though she would never ever say it, was yes. And he knew it.

Objectively speaking, of course, Ethan Landry was the best hockey player Blackmore had. Probably better than the rest of the New York’s university players. On the ice, he was a force to be reckoned with and he was a hard-worker, he cared for his team and for the sport. He was a true captain. And that’s exactly why it shocked her to the core the way he had reacted on that final match.

“That’s a yes, I know it.” he smiled widely, making her sigh. He wasn’t making fun of her anymore, he was genuinely happy by it. And then a frown appeared on his face. “I hope I still am, even after what happened.”

The vulnerability in his voice melted Y/N’s walls. “You still are. You are not the first player to get suspended, and you won’t be the last. It has nothing to do with your skills or your commitment to the sport.”

“That’s not what coach says” he laughed dryly.

“Coach is furious because he lost his best player, but he doesn’t mean it. Everyone in this university knows how serious you are about hockey, okay? Don’t doubt yourself over one wrong action.”

They smiled at each other, for the first time ever, with sincerity. But then he ruin it with his smugness “Do you want my autograph?”

Y/N pushed him away playfully “You’re such an asshole”

“Oh sorry, would you prefer if I gave you my jersey?” Ethan sent her a teasing glance.

“I’d prefer if you shut up and start warming up.”

“Anything for my number one fan.” he winked at her and she almost melted. God, was he charming—annoying, but charming nonetheless.

“I despise you.”

But there wasn’t any hatred reflected on those words anymore. That day, they entered the rink expecting practice to be dreadful and filled with insults. They left laughing and hoping the next day would arrive quickly, because they had actually enjoyed it. There had been insults thrown, but they were the playful kind, insults that weren’t meant to hurt the other. Everything had changed that day for them.

Y/N HAD ALWAYS ENJOYED SKATING AND COMPETING, BUT DOING IT WITH ETHAN MADE IT EVEN BETTER. It’s ironic, when her coach told her he was to be James’ replacement, she thought it would be the worst thing ever. But now, that the three weeks were over, she knew she was going to miss him.

“So, that’s it, then.” Ethan spoke up as they left the arena. Today had been their last practice together, as James had already recovered and Ethan’s suspension had ended.

“That’s it.” she nodded. “It wasn’t half as bad as I’d imagined.”

“It wasn’t.” he agreed. His chest felt heavy, which was silly. It’s not like he wouldn’t see her again. They practiced the same days on the same place, and they even shared some classes. The truth was, he was scared it was the end of their newfound…friendship? God, no. Friendship wasn’t quite right, they had something more going on.

“Are you going to the competition?” she asked shyly, cheeks turning red.

God, she was so cute. It was hard to believe it was the same girl that was constantly bickering with him. “Do you want me to go?”

“I mean, I guess it’s kind of your routine too now, so I figure you’d like to see the outcome.” she said nervously.

Ethan took a step forward, so that she had to look up “That’s not what I asked. Do you want me to go?”

“Yes.” her tone was a bit unstable. His closeness made her insanely nervous, so she cleared her throat before replying again. “Yes. I want you to go. But no pressure, it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll be there.” he assured her. “My game is on the same day, a few hours after your competition ends.”

“Oh, shit! That’s right. Maybe you shouldn’t come, you need to rest.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’ll be there.” he repeated. “But I want you to go to my game”

“I never miss one.” she said.

“Perfect. You know which number to use” he said, giving her a knowing look.

“Of course, I’ll wear Meeks’.” she teased.

Ethan clenched his jaw. “Use one that isn’t mine and see what happens.”

“You sound a bit mad there, Landry. You sound almost—” she stood on her tip toes, her mouth nearly touching his. “jealous.”

“You’re killing me here, Y/N/N.” his tone was pleading. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

“What? You want me to kiss you?” her words left in a whisper and he could feel her breathy voice against his lips.

“I’ll give you three seconds to take a step back, if you don’t, I’ll kiss the hell out of you.” he warned her.

Y/N smiled. “One.” she set his hands on her waist. “Two.” then she wrapped hers around his neck. “Three.” she looked him in the eyes. “Still her-”

Ethan’s lips captured hers. The kiss was like their relationship—it started wild and aggressive and then it slowed down, becoming sweeter and softer but still holding an insanely amount of passion.

“You drive me crazy, did you know that?” Ethan laughed, pressing his forehead to hers. “In the most frustrating and loving way.”

“If a month ago someone told me I’ll be kissing Ethan Landry I would’ve laughed and then throw up in disgust. Now, there’s no other thing I’d rather be doing.”

“Aw, that was kinda sweet. You still have to work on your compliments, but you’ll get there.” he pressed kisses all over her face. “I’m so fucking glad I punched that guy.”

Y/N laughed. “I dare you to repeat that in front of coach.”

“I don’t have a death wish.”

“And you’re too pretty to die.” she pecked him on the lips. “Did I just make Ethan Landry blush?!”

“Shut up!” he laughed in such an adorable way that Y/N was surprised she didn’t melt in the spot. “I really like you, Y/N.”

“I really like you too.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #ethanlandry #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion oneshot #jack champion #jack champion fluff #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jackchampion #jack champion fanfic #jack champion imagine

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gladiatorcunt · 4 months ago

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- EASTER EGG BASKET | VII.

together, intertwined, mouths bruised with love and souls bitten

cw: kinktober prompt (spit roasting), fem reader, age gap (reader in their 20s & cherik in their 40s), set during first class but they’re older and the school’s already established more, unprotected sex, teacher’s pet!reader, eventual teacher-student relationship, background established cherik and a mention of alex x hank, power imbalance, dubcon, lowkey coercion, “slut” used one time by you @ you, southern!reader, controlling older men :3

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“And what do we have here?”

You stop your mindless floating in the pool, freezing at the sound of a deep male voice. You knew exactly who it was from the very first disappointed breath.

“Mr. Lehnsherr, um, fancy seeing you here.” You bite your lip, awkwardly kicking your legs back and forth since your mutant ability unfortunately isn’t catapulting your body out of water.

“Yes, in the manor’s off limits after hours pool, how funny.” Erik says flatly, unamused. “Lights out was five minutes ago, my dear, care to tell me why exactly you aren’t in bed?”

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck, “I just wanted to come cool off, I was going right back to bed da- sir, I swear.”

Great. Now your cheeks are hot at your near slip up, something that your teacher seems to catch. His lips quirk up on a barely there smile, and you suddenly wished you had the strong will to drown yourself right here right now.

“Oh, I wish I could believe you.” He tuts, not as willing to let you get away with shit like Charles, but Erik has his own soft spot for you. “And what are you wearing? Because I know that isn’t one of the school’s swimsuits.”

The piece in question being a skimpy pink two piece, the bikini top covers only the upper half of your breasts and ends just under your nipples. The bottoms of your tits hang out through a cut out and the straps of the bottom rest high on your hips. The strings are held together by a little studded heart.

“It’s something from home, southern summers are hot, sir.” You don’t hide yourself away in newfound shame despite that being what you’re feeling.

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing the ample mounds up and squishing them together. Erik’s cold eyes follow the movement and he swallows, but the same unimpressed look is still plastered all over his face. You want to pout and stomp your foot, but you’re lucky he hasn’t turned your ass in to Charles yet, maybe there’s a way for you to get out of this without a punishment of any kind.

“Yes, well.” His voice is gruff as he clears his throat, “Charles sent me to find you. He gets worried when you’re not where he expects you to be, where we both expect you to be, am I clear?”

Your guilt isn’t as believable when your ass cheeks are out for one of the teachers you’re insane over to leer at, but you do drown in it. You’re miles away from any family, and when your ultra religious southern family found out about you being a mutant, they called you a demon and promptly kicked you out. You’re lucky that Charles found you when he did, and the things he and later Erik learned that you had been through made them feel quite protective of you.

You know perfectly well that it feels good to be a teacher's pet at the top of the class who never does anything wrong in their eyes. To get male validation just for breathing in their general direction, especially when there are so many students here with similar if not worse sob stories. For you at least, it was love at first sight.

You just really needed this one little instance of rebellion, to do laps back and forth in the perfectly cool blue water until the thoughts of being stuck between teachers who are twice your age were washed away. And that was after you had played with your clit only to scream into your pillow because you couldn’t get over that peak.

“I know, I'm sorry it was just this one time. I’ll use the pool when it’s open during the day next time, I promise.” You nod, willing to just take the loss and say whatever Erik wants to hear so you go back to your dorm without this ever getting back to Charles’s ears.

With Erik, disappointing him is kind of sexy because he scowls and his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms before he scolds you. He has rough hands that you can so easily imagine smacking the shit out of you, and you don’t just imagine him hitting your ass either.

Plus, his comfort hit so much deeper when he would cup your face and stroke a thumb over your hair, letting you the softness seep into his gaze when you promise to be good.

With Charles, disappointing him is still sexy, but you feel awful much quicker. He’s a real “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” kind of man, and seeing the way his mouth twists and he refuses to even look you in the eye has you shrinking like a violet. It takes a lot more begging to get his attention and even more sincere promises to do better to get him to smile again, chuckling and fondly exasperated as he instructs you to run along.

Erik is still in the bulging biceps phase, glaring down at you at the edge of the pool until something unreadable flashes across his vision. “You know what? You’re right, you are sorry, why don’t I keep you company in the pool if you’re so stressed? Since you can’t be trusted to not wander off on your own right now.”

Your eyes widen to the size of marbles as you watch your teacher strip off his hoodie and shorts, down to only his bare body, and jump in the pool beside you. You sputter and hurriedly wipe away the water that splashes your face. Erik chuckles and swims to brush up against your front, immediately grabbing your waist and digging his fingers into your flesh.

His hands drift up to run along the sides of your breasts, groping you through the wet fabric. You trace his stubble and whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip. Your breath hitches, helplessly staring into his eyes, not fighting or pushing him away. He gets the answer that he wants to the question in his eyes and sweeps you into a kiss, the swolshing of the water moving around you is the only thing you can hear other than your thundering heartbeat.

The rest, as they say, is history. Because you’re making out with Erik in no time flat and humping his bare cock the best you can in the water when a familiar throat clearing sound goes off like a gun above you. The heavy clack of his oxfords pounding the wet tile surrounding the pool, the fancy french cologne that you’ve imagined stealing and spraying on your pillow.

There he is, you had to know in the back of your mind that once Erik had gotten there, it was only a matter of time before Charles followed. You lick away the string of spit connecting you and Erik and smile your most charming smile, still humping him even as Charles frowns.

“S-sir, we were just- I’m gonna go back to bed soon, honest.” It’s flimsy and a god awful apology but you’re too horny to care. You can make it up to him after somebody screws your brains out, not a second before.

And Charles knows already, you can feel him in your mind and while you’re definitely self conscious about what he sees, you can’t help but sigh in relief when he starts unbuckling his belt after rifling around in there for a minute. His blue eyes seem more vivid to you now, watered with color in the face of your wildly inappropriate feelings.

“Do not think I'm not still upset with you, young lady, we have curfews for a reason and if you can’t follow them, you’ll be confined to going to your classes and going straight to your dorm.” His melodic voice warns you, but you can only beam and nod so he sighs, resolving to tell you again when you don’t have a singular thought bubble with a picture of their cocks in your brain.

“Yes yes yes, I promise this won’t happen again, just please, sir.” You’re not above begging already, part of being a teacher’s pet means doing what you have to do to keep yourself on the pedestal they put you on.

Erik’s hands flex on your waist, “Now now, don’t be so eager, pet. Wouldn’t want you to get too cock hungry now would we?”

He says it like they obviously would but Charles shoots him a look and Erik laughs, going back to groping your tits through your bikini top. Charles soon slips into the water on your other side, and soon enough you’re sandwiched in between the both of them. Charles runs his hands down your back and settles them on your ass, sharply smacking the globes before telling Erik to sit on the edge of the pool.

“You’re going to give me more gray hairs than I already have, you know that?” Charles sighs, “It’s only fitting I take some of that stress out on this gorgeous body, hm, darling?”

“Uh huh, I’m so so sorry, sir.” You babble, pitching yourself forward to mouth at Erik’s bare length as Charles slides his hands around your hips and grinds against your ass.

Erik spreads his legs, “Greedy girl, come get it then.”

You suckle at the thick tip, flicking your tongue out to catch the drops of pre that leak out and take him down your throat as Charles pulls the strings of your bikini bottom loose. You squeal in pleasant surprise when he parts your ass cheeks to get a good look of your pussy underwater, running his thumbs over your folds and teasingly dipping into your hole.

You whine around Erik’s cock, already to the hilt, his balls resting on your chin. He chuckles and pats your cheek, goading Charles into giving the poor thing what she wants already, you might die of need on them.

“We’ve fantasized about this while we fucked on our own time, Charles, there’s no use in pretending any longer.”

You eagerly hum on Erik’s length, bobbing your head up and down, only faltering at the hint of Charles’s cockhead against your entrance. He teasingly swipes it through, slipping a few of his fingers in to stretch you enough while causing you too much pain. You have to face some kind of punishment after all, he and Erik will kiss it better later.

“Now, pet, keep your mouth where it is and relax your legs, let me in.” Charles pants, slowly sinking into your tight warmth as you suck Erik off.

Once you’ve adjusted enough, despite still reeling from the stretch and burn, his slow but deep thrusts push your head further into Erik’s lap. You look up at the latter with teary eyes, he laughs and brushes them away from your lower lash line, guiding you to bob your head more.

Charles hisses, fingernails scratching at your love handles as he picks up the pace. He loves the way you gag on Erik when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the way you can’t run away from either them or what they do to you or what you do to them. He knows that this moment was inevitable, always in motion and in the making since the day you met. You project your dirty little fantasies so loudly, Charles would have to lock the door to his classroom after every period so he could get himself off.

You gurgle around Erik, your nose buried in his trimmed pubes and inhaling his musk as you deepthroat him. Charles tightens his grip, moving to grope and play your ass from behind, his thrusts speed up even faster. Eventually the water is rippling around the three of you, the manor’s pool making mini waves as Charles’s girthier cock splits your pussy open.

You feel so full, your mind is so painted white that you can’t think about anything else but the long dick filling your mouth and the thick dick buried in your velvet grip.

“So good for us, if you were feeling restless you could’ve just sneaked into either one of our rooms. We wouldn’t have minded.” Someone says, maybe Charles, even though he would be the one who would protest too much before giving up the charade.

You give up on actively sucking Erik off and just let the force of Charles’s thrusts shoot you up and down to take his length into your mouth over and over and over. Blinking up at them in a daze as if you have no other thoughts in your puppy brain, just a bimbo slut for them to share and use between them. You drift in that sub space for ages, letting them direct your movements on their cocks like the most loved and well kept doll in the world.

“Fuck, darling!” Charles grunts, pounding your gummy walls and focusing on your choked up whines and moans.

Erik groans, his large hips jutting pistoning his aching dick into you, caught up in the embrace of your tongue and throat. The sight of your lips stretched obscenely wide around his meat. He wishes he took the time to slap his shaft against your face, demeaning you with the tip on the center of your lolled out tongue.

“Hottest little mouth I’ve ever fucked, be proud of that, dear.” Erik grits out, wrestling his pleasure from the depths of your gaping jaw.

Charles reverently kneads the fat of your globes and Erik lovingly caresses the apple shaped swell of your cheeks with his rough fingertips. Both of the cocks in you twitch as they spill inside, and your eyes flutter shut. You’re too busy drinking every drop of Erik’s salty seed to react to Charles finessing your clit until you're dirtying the pool water with your own orgasm. Your fluids float off to mix with the bits of Charles that leak out of you, and you’re almost genuinely sad at the thought.

They intertwine their fingers when they push in a cold metal buttplug back in Charles' room, which you come to find out is one they share. That sentiment is true about the room as well.

You and Alex avoid looking each other in the eye when he catches you coming out of their room on the way to class, and you see Hank passed out on the bed behind his opened door.

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