#yeah that's not Fire. All he wants is to hear 'I love you.'

[moonstruckme]

jilly x reader where the reader gets hypothermia

cw: symptoms of mild hypothermia, (implied?) freezing water, non-sexual nudity

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James half carries you back to the cabin. This is partly because you’re shivering too hard to walk as quickly as you’d like, and partly because your legs simply won’t move the way you tell them to. Your wet lashes feel heavy with the ice crystals you imagine forming on them. 

He passes you off to Lily while he unlocks the front door. She rubs one hand uselessly over your arm through your soaked coat, using the other to unstick a frigid piece of hair from your face. 

They both help you inside. Set you down on the couch, and James makes a sound close to a laugh when you protest about getting wet on his mother’s cushions. 

“Start a fire, please?” Lily is all business, panic making her stern. Or maybe not stern so much as resolved. Her features are set, green eyes alternating between worried and determined, but her hands are characteristically gentle as they unzip your coat and pull you out of it one arm at a time. 

“Love?” 

You realize she’s been talking to you. “Hm?” 

Delicate brows pinch in either concern or relief. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” 

“Oh. Um.” Your chittering makes your words come out jolting and stilted. “Cold.” 

“Tired?” she asks. You put your arms up when she motions for you to, letting her lift your jumper over your head. The thought that you’re the only one getting undressed between your partners doesn’t occur to you; you only know that Lily seems urgent, and you trust her. 

“Ye—yeah.” 

“I think we have an electric blanket around here somewhere,” says James. He’s poking at a log in the fireplace, trying to provoke a bigger flame. “Get her closer to here, love.” 

“I’m still trying to get her out of her wet clothes. Can you help me?” 

James helps you to stand so Lily can tug your trousers off. They stick to your legs but crinkle oddly, stiff with ice. James kisses your temple and murmurs something you can’t quite make out. You feel guilty for ruining what was meant to be a fun afternoon of ice skating on the pond near James’ family cabin. You’ve never heard Lily shout like she did when the ice broke beneath you. 

They wrap you up in an electric blanket and put your hair up in a towel to get it off your neck, and you let James massage warmth into your fingers while Lily makes something warm for you to drink. 

“Jamie,” she calls from the kitchen, “do you all keep a thermometer here?” 

“Um, I’m not sure,” replies James. “If we did, it’d be in one of the drawers in the bathroom.” 

You hear your girlfriend whizz off in that direction. 

“How are you, angel?” James presses a couple of firm, warm kisses to your face, squeezing your hands. “Do you still feel tired?” 

“A little,” you admit. Your shivering has lessened, though. “Is it okay that we left our skates by the pond?” 

“What?” He gives a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. That’s not really the top concern right now, you know?” 

You frown. It’s supposed to snow again tonight. “I don’t want them to get buried…” 

“I’ll go get them later,” James reassures you. He kisses your nose. “Don’t worry about that, lovebug. Just try to get warm, okay?” 

“I sort of feel like you guys are doing all the work for me.” 

James’ laughs as Lily comes to sit beside you. 

“Here, can you keep this in your mouth for me, please?” You nod, but when she slips the thermometer under your tongue she evidently makes a last-minute call to hold it herself instead. Lily’s thumb drags heavily over your cheek. You notice her bottom lip looks colored and bitten. 

“I think I’m okay…” you try to tell her, but stop when she shushes you gently. 

“That’s good, lovely, but don’t talk with this in your mouth.” She gives you a terse smile. 

James transfers both of your hands to one of his, using the other to squeeze her elbow consolingly. Both of your partners watch you intently as you wait. 

When Lily deems it's been long enough and looks at the thermometer, her posture slumps with relief. 

“Oh, it’s—that’s not so bad.” 

James grins, reading over her shoulder. “It must be coming up,” he says confidently. 

You offer your girlfriend a smile. “I told you, I think I’m fine.” 

Lily makes a soft, strangled sound, eyebrows pinching in the moment before she throws her arms around you. You see some of your own surprise reflected in James’ expression as you catch her, bringing her into the heated dome of your electric blanket with you.

“I didn’t know…I was really scared,” she confesses tearily, squeezing you around your neck. 

You rub her back in an attempt to reassure her. Behind her, James is doing the same. He gets his arms around the both of you, holding your shoulders through the blanket. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We must be doing something right, yeah? Or she wouldn’t be getting better so quickly.” 

Lily exhales a shaky breath. “I am never, ever going ice skating again.” 

“Yes, you are,” you tell her fondly. 

“No. And you shouldn’t either! In fact, I hope our skates do get buried, and neither of you can ever find them.” 

You make a sound of protest, but James speaks over you, “Alright, lovely. We can let nature roll the dice tonight, if that’s what you want.” 

“But James—” 

“Angel, you weren’t witness to your own blue lips,” he tells you, rubbing your shoulder pacifyingly. “I think we’re permitted a bit of overreaction right now. I say bury the skates.” 

You give a little laugh. “You’re both taking this too far. We don’t have to use them, but there’s no reason to leave perfectly good skates out there in the snow.” 

“Mm, let’s say we return to that debate when you’re no longer shivering.” 

You all sit there for a while, holding each other while the fire crackles and warmth seeps into your fingertips. Lily’s hands are actually quite cold around your neck, but you refuse to tell her lest she spring away from you. When the kettle starts to whistle, she sniffs and pulls away anyways, wiping under her eyes. 

“I’ve got it,” says James, standing with a kiss to each of your heads. “What are we having?” 

“Hot chocolate.” She takes a breath, collecting herself. “She needs something with sugar. Thanks, Jamie.” 

You smile at her. “You’re so brilliant. How do you know that?” 

Lily’s lips tilt slightly in response. “I read it somewhere.” 

“So brilliant,” you repeat, kissing her softly on the lips. They’re noticeably warmer than yours, but you feel much more yourself than you had when you first got back to the cabin. “Thanks for helping me.” 

She makes a scoffing sort of noise. It doesn’t sound terribly derisive when it’s bent by fondness like this. Lily touches the backs of her fingers to your cheek, caressing. “You don’t have to thank us. Either of us,” she says. The tears have cleared from her eyes, leaving a raw caring in their wake. “We love you. A lot.” 

Your heart feels more than sufficiently warmed as you close the gap between you again. “I love you a lot, too.”

[heartfullofleeches]

thoughts

brie would go feral over virgin lust demon darling having like, a demonic form, preferably with big honkers

Yan "Delivery Boy" + Virgin Lust Demon Reader

[Very brief body horror]

-

"So.... A demon, huh?"

Friends tells friends everything. Their fears, their hopes, their secrets. That's how things play out in the movies, anyway. It's hard keeping up with people reaching out a branch of friendship when you seldomly have the stamina to keep up with them or even pick up their calls.

"Yeah! My mom was a demon and my dad's a regular old human.... Or- was it the other way around? I haven't talked to either of them in forever."

As skeptical as anyone would be in his position, Brie felt there had to be a pinch of veracity to your proclamation. Cuteness like yours wasn't a natural feat. His stomach was still raw with the flutters of anxiety retailing the night he showed up on your doorstep to be met with that clueless, charitable smile of yours.

"Oh, yeah?" Brie challenges with a small smirk. "Well if you're a demon, you should probably know what I do to your pizzas before I hand them over to you.

Brie's hands promptly fly over his mouth, every aspect of himself screaming at him for almost letting his own little secret slip through the cracks. Luck being on his side, you merely laugh off off his statement as you spring up from your place on the couch.

"You'd better not be stealing any of my toppings! I pay good money for every slice... Least I used to before all those vouchers you gave me... I can show you if you really don't believe me... I trust you, Brie."

Brie melts into the couch cushions, vulnerability and trust in your eyes welding him in place as you apprehensively fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt - awaiting his answer.

"O..okay." He stammers, tongue tied as the ceiling lights perfectly illuminate every one of your features that keeps him awake at night. "Sure, I guess... Show me."

"Great!" Kicking off your shoes, your limbs grow stagnant as your eyes roll back in their sockets - veins branching outward cross the whites of your scleras till they are reduced to a milky ruby hue. Your fingertips elongate, skin merging with the keratin of your nails as they sharpen into razor points.

Sickening cracks and pops can be heard as the bones of your spine snap to make room for more. Breaths piercing and ragged, your chest swells with each draw of air you pull in - testing the resilience of your formly loose fitting tee shirt as your bust ballons to your noticeable uptake in size.

Rolling your now forked tongue over flat teeth, your toothy grin still holds that realm of innocence as you gaze down at Brie.

"Well?"

Brie jumps as something heavy hits the floor - twin tails swishing back and forth in anticipation. Horror should have been the prominent force driving through him. Fear and terror is what he should have felt. Those were the emotions a coward would experience in this moment, and as a man who branded himself spineless for being unable to express his love to you in a normal and sane way perhaps he was braver than initially believed.

"titties...."

Cocking your head to one side, confusion takes the forefront of your expression. As your hair falls over your face, small, nubby horns can be seen at the bases of your temples.

"Did you say something, Brie?"

"H-huh?! Me?? Course not. You're probably just hearing the ceiling fan." He certainly didn't mention your chest- Nor was he seconds away from spilling into a feverish tangent about how desperately he wanted your massive breasts in his face, and preferably his mouth. That'd be crazy-

Brie peals out of his jacket as if it were on fire, balling and shoving it between his thighs as he laughs - shepherding his eyes anywhere but the dip in your shirt.

"Whew- Man, it's chilly in here! I should've worn longer pants! Hahaha-"

"I can bring you some blankets?"

"No thanks, I'm good! You're super cute by the way! Even more so in this form. Your tits- Fuck! Tails! R-really caught my eye."

[ahamkara-apologist]

100%. It's also worth noting that Eramis's grudge with the Traveler and her intent to destroy it wasn't even entirely irrational; she wanted it gone so that people's fates weren't dependent on the whims of gods. She wanted to level the playing fields, and while she was wrong in her assumption that it was the Traveler leaving that led to the destruction of Riis, she also...wasn't entirely wrong, either. Humanity is the only instance where the Traveler stayed and fought back, and we're the only species assailed by the Black Fleet that got to keep our homeworld as a result. We're not any more worthy than the other species that were eradicated we just happened to get lucky. Eramis (and the rest of the Eliksni) have every right to be furious at this, given the amount of horrors that they had to endure on the Drift to get to Sol- horrors that are so bad that in the opening mission of Revenant, Eramis uses the Drift the same way that we would use 'hell' when she roared "Stand before me if you dare! I'll send you back to the Drift again and again!"

Eramis's goal, while foolish, was still selfless, to an extent- it was to destroy the Traveler so that nobody could ever suffer from a second Whirlwind, which, despite everything, did include us as well. She's never liked humanity, much less the Young Wolf, but she's also never given off the vibe of her hatred for us being personal. She genuinely seemed to have thought that we were being treated like pawns by the Traveler in Beyond Light, and, as soon as she unthawed in Plunder and realized that she was the one being used as a pawn, she warmed up to the idea of double-crossing the Witness right quick. I don't remember exactly when she said it, but I do recall hearing her have dialogue where she was talking about how much she hates gods in general, not just the Traveler, and how she wants to be free of them- all of them. If that means giving over the reigns to House Light, then yes, she will do that. Not willingly, ofc, and she has every right to be suspicious about how well House Light will work bc they ARE under the yoke of the Last City, but a big chunk of why she saved Eido in Plunder is bc she sees the future in her (the rest of it was bc, despite her posturing, I don't believe that Eramis would ever be able to stand by and watch a young Eliksni die. She's too much of a mom for that).

And that leads into a whole other thing that people always seem to get wrong: Eramis did not have a choice when it came to firing the warsats. Yes, the Witness exploited her, yes it was preying upon her grief and fury and depression like it did for everyone else it talked to, but she also never had any other option but to fire those missiles, because it was standing right there, staring at her. If she refused, then she likely would have either been killed and/or she would have been horribly punished via more of her people being turned into Scorn and then sent to do it themselves (likely this, bc Eramis is suicidal and does not value her own life). It SEEMED like she did it for Riis, and she likely believed that to be the case, but there was never an option for her to back away, and even if she did, there was never an alternative to the Warsats being fired. People like to bitch about her being the cause of Rasputin's death all the time and it drives me insane bc it's just flat-out not true. Her seeing for her own eyes that it never would have worked anyways was also a key pivotal moment for her character, so like...yeah if Rasputin had to die in order for Eramis and the rest of the Eliksni to get an actual storyline then you bet your ass I'm sending that man to eeby deeby. But that's just a side bit from me being salty (for the record I loved Rasputin's character and was sad he died but also I think the writers got themselves stuck in a corner with the whole Xivu thing and him, and they managed to make his death feel narrative impactful, so. works for me). Eramis's whole stint under the Witness was one of punishment, and the way that the Witness punished her was by forcing her to stand by and watch as her House- full of the people that she swore to protect- got either turned into Wrathborn or Scorn. Mara Fucking Sov confirmed that for us. Eramis had almost no agency under the Witness, and what little she did have, she turned towards helping us, knowing that if she got caught, the consequences would be extreme.

Honestly, I think that the only thing she really did horribly wrong on a personal level was opening the vex portal on her own people, but even then, that could be argued to have been done under duress. Eramis opened the portal after we killed her council (specifically with the intention of destabilizing her btw, as we know that she makes horrible decisions when she doesn't have anyone else to talk her down), in a last-ditch effort to destroy the Young Wolf. I don't count anything that happened under the Witness because nothing she did then could really be considered her own actions/intent, and I think it's really telling that the second she's out from under the Witness's control, her first action was to try to go home to her wife and kids. And then, when the Scorn started threatening her people, she gave that up as well so that she could call the Vanguard to help them. The Vanguard. The people who specifically sent out a strike team to kill all of her friends and break her House. She did all of this knowing that they would capture her and very likely kill her (actually, she's fully under the assumption that we're going to kill her, if you listen to her yapping in her cell), but that didn't matter to her. She had to get her people to safety, and she knew she couldn't do so herself, so she did everything she can to prevent that, even though it meant putting her life and her pride on the line. Sure, she's been suicidally depressed since Plunder, but that doesn't diminish the sacrifice she made in the slightest

Eramis was never selfish. She's right up there with Misraaks in terms of being an extremely selfless, caring leader who'd do anything for her people. It's just that she's not being nice about it to coddle to human empathy, which, given the track record of horrible shit that we've done to her people, we really shouldn't expect from her anyways.

I want everyone who continues to claim that Eramis was in line to be a disciple of the Witness to shut the fuck up and give me 500 dollars right the fuck now btw. These are not the words of someone who was en route to becoming a disciple, aka the most selfish entity of their entire race. These are the words of someone who genuinely does not think she has any worth left in her, but is still fighting because the alternative is that people she cares about will die. Literal opposite of selfishness right here

[butterflyslinky]

It's been seven months. They've seen each other on calls, but they keep up a mask of stiff professionalism if they have to talk at all.

But now Buck's sitting in a gay bar, looking for some fun the same way he does on every 48 off. His expectations are low. No one seems to want a real relationship, not that he's really trying for one, ad the sex is mediocre at best.

Because none of them are Tommy.

He's two drinks in when he hears a familiar laugh and turns. There's Tommy, sitting four stools down and talking to the bartender. Buck wonders how he missed him entering the bar, but it doesn't matter. What matters is Tommy is here, so close, and Buck...

Okay, he'd jumped the gun asking Tommy to move in. And everything he's said before that had been...not great. Thinking about it, it's no wonder Tommy had hit the brakes. Though he maybe could have asked to just take a break instead of ending it completely.

Though it would have gone the same way, probably.

Buck knocks back his last drink and stands. He's steady on his feet as he makes his way down the bar and plops himself into the empty seat next to Tommy

Tommy doesn't look shocked to see him. Not happy, either. Just kind of resigned. "Buck?"

"Don't," Buck says. "I don't want..." He grits his teeth to force back tears. "I think we need to talk."

"Why?" Tommy asks.

"Because I have things to say to you," Buck says. "And I'm not going to let you just walk out again."

He's said all those things, in texts that sat unanswered, voice messages that were probably deleted without being heard. This time, he wants to make sure Tommy hears.

"I don't have a lot of time tonight," Tommy says.

"Then I'll say it fast. You broke my heart, Tommy. You said you were my first but not my last...but you weren't my first. I've dated and broken up before, I know what relationships are. Just cause you're a dude doesn't mean it was any different. As to not being my last, well, I've had plenty in the last seven months and none of them are going to be my anything. I told you they can be the same thing, and I mean it. I don't want to be in love with anyone the way I'm in love with you."

"Evan..."

"And if you don't want me, fine, but just say that instead of giving me some bullshit about not wanting your heart broken. Because I can't break your heart, Tommy. Maybe it's been seven months, but I'm still in love with you, and I don't see that changing any time soon." Evan looks down for a moment. "So...I know I'm a lot. I know I said some dumb shit. And I know there's a lot I still don't know. But I do know I want you to come home with me, and you don't have to stay, but...I want to try again. Now that I know a little more."

Tommy's eyes are bright when Buck looks up. "I can't."

"What?"

"Evan, I can't come with you tonight. Or any night."

Buck's stomach sinks. "Is there someone else?"

"No," Tommy says. "No, just...I got a new job. In Seattle...they offered me a command. A chance to be captain...don't get much more brave and trailblazing than that, do you, being an openly gay fire captain." He swallows hard. "I'm leaving on Monday."

Buck stares. The world seems to be tilting, even though he hasn't had that much to drink. "Oh."

"I thought you would have heard," Tommy says. "It's been kind of big news around the department."

"Everyone's been extra delicate with me," Buck says. "They don't talk about you where they think I can hear." He forces a smile. "Congratulations...you deserve it."

"Yeah?" Tommy says.

"Yeah. I'm happy for you." Buck waves to the bartender. "Put his drinks on my tab."

"Evan..."

"Least I can do. Since...since it's really over."

Tommy nods, but he looks sad. "Yeah," he says. "I guess I can just...start again. And I guess you can, too."

"Yeah," Buck says. "I guess I can."

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

It's a stupid idea, but Buck's full of those. He knows that it'll probably end in disaster, that he'll end up crawling back with his tail between his legs again.

But he has to try.

The airport looks just the same as it had when he dropped Abby off all those years ago. The same was it had been when he'd watched her walk out of his life, only to be seen again when it was unavoidable.

He's not doing that now.

Tommy is easy to spot, in spite of the crowd, standing in the check-in line. Buck thinks it must be kismet, that he's on time. There had been several flights to Seattle today, and he just took his best shot.

"Tommy!"

Tommy turns, and his brow furrows when he sees Buck. "Evan?"

Buck pushes his way through the crown, suitcase heavy in his hand, until he reaches Tommy's side. Tommy looks him over, then down at the bag. "Evan, what..."

"I know you said it's over," Buck says. "And that you don't want to try this again. And if you tell me to leave right now, I will. But I couldn't take the chance that I'd never see you again, even if you don't want to be in my life. And don't worry about work, Bobby transferred me to a different station than the one you're commanding, and I have a place to stay until I can find an apartment, and I'll get a new car since I gave the Jeep back to Maddie, but..."

"Evan," Tommy interrupts. "Did you just upend your life to follow me to Seattle?"

"Yes," Evan says. "If you'll let me."

Tommy stares for a minute before he pulls Buck into a kiss. And this time, Buck really knows it will be forever.

[yaoireview]

review sockathan ! 👻👻👻

woah how'd you make that green

SOCKATHAN YAOI REVIEW

Disclaimer: This will contain spoilers (kind of) for Welcome to Hell 2 Part 1 and Welcome to Hell. You should probably go watch that. Its made by Erica Wester and its PRETTY cool.)

My Yaoi Entrepreneurs, I'll be blunt with you. I know we've ALL seen gay people, maybe in the streets, maybe at the park. You might even see one in your home now, so lets be honest with ourselves. Sock is DEFINITELY gay, bisexual at LEAST.

The OTHER one on the other hand.. its a little bit harder to say.. I'll probably find something though..

Lets make one thing clear, when I say Yaoi in this review. I don't mean ANYTHING inappropriate. Its just my special way of saying gay people.. I'm kinda magical in that sense.

Lets just get the first one done and over with a simple section I like to call:

EVIDENCE 1: SOCK IN GENERAL

okay so FIRST of all the FIRST time we see sock, they call Jonathan "hot stuff" while being in a fridge. I'm not sure about you but that's love if I ever saw it.

After that they introduce you to Sock killing his parents. One key point after another. If Sock being gay wasn't important, then WHY was it shown BEFORE telling us Sock's (other) main trait. Checkmate liberals.

Sock would then get the report from Mephistopheles, and you COULD say its just because the camera zoomed in, but its literally the most light ever seen in Sock's eyes.

And then Sock went on to ruin Jonathan's day, making him look crazy, and Jonathan SOMEHOW got blamed for knocking down that desk, I swear I think the teachers just hate him. I'm not sure about you but I certainly cant KNOCK over a desk thats right next to me.

He was WRITING too.. would a guilty man of desk flipping WRITE?? NO!!

And not to mention that Sock made Jonathan look DUMB in front of the faceless brothers which was probably the closest time that Sock did their job right.

Sock absolutely ruined it today.. but can you blame them? They're new to the job, give them some SLACK.

But the upcoming days, Sock was so whimsical.

Yeah SURE. Sock is still telling Jonathan to kill himself, but they just don't want to get fired!!

Not to mention the fact that they stared at Jonathan while they were taking a piss, but there's nothing odd about that.

And also near the end, Mephistopheles calls sock out on liking the guy, and Sock stutters. You just have to take my word for it.

SOCK IN GENERAL 2 [PART 1]

If you saw Welcome to Hell 2 [Part 1], you already know what I'm gonna comment about. Sock went on to call Jonathan's mother, hot. They then went on to say "Must be where you got it from, huh? You definitely got her butt at least."

When Jonathan goes on a walk and Sock follows them and says after Jonathan says he doesn't wanna be friends with them. (We'll get back to that)

"Oh wow, come to think of it, You don't really have ANYONE do YOU? What's that feel like? Knowing you're gonna die alone." to which Jonathan snaps back with "I dunno Sock, you tell me."

Now at first, this looks like a scene of ANTI SOCKATHAN propaganda, but think with me here, yaoiers. How would Jonathan know that Sock died alone??

I understand if he just guessed, since sock DOES look like someone who would die alone, or he just said whatever comeback that came to his head but if not, Sock ALREADY told Jonathan about their past life.

If what I KNOW is true, Sock VENTED to Jonathan about their life before they died in LESS than a week, since Sock just now sees Jonathan's mother in the first part, and due to a comment made by the creator.

Sock REALLY trusts this guy, maybe Mephistopheles didn't want to hear them vent, but maybe its JUST because Sock wanted Jonathan to do the same. but they probably didn't.

And then near the end, Sock says to Jonathan when he snatched his employee manual

"Jonathan, if something happens to you-"

Actually, I think this is pretty weak evidence but I thought I'd include it, since a teacher would say the same thing if a kindergartener was up on a high shelf.

That segment was PRETTY lengthy, but I PROMISE you, the others will be shorter, I just.. didn't expect there to be so much for Sock...

EVIDENCE 2: SOCK SUCKS AT THEIR JOB.

Jonathan was DEAD ON when they told Sock that they suck at their job. And quite honestly.. I could've done it better.. I could've got Jonathan to kill himself (theoretically) on the FIRST day, and if you wouldn't use my strategy, I promise you that there's probably several other you could use for the teenager that you want them to kill themselves at home.

STEP 1: GRAB A WEAPON

Since Sock is seen to be able to flip over a desk and they're able to HOLD Jonathan's journal (Shock or not), I should THEORITCALLY be able to grab a weapon, now for this strategy, I suggest you pick a nonlethal option, only to have a lethal option around, for this example, I will be using a sledgehammer.

After swinging that at the noggin, Jonathan would drop unconscious, probably with brain damage (that don't matter though)

STEP 2: POSSESS THE TEENAGER

Now it MAY not be like this in w2h, but Mephistopheles was able to possess Jonathan when he was DEAD (Probably), so It should hopefully work when they're out of consciousness.

STEP 3: KILL YOURSELF.

Alright now I KNOW that sounds bad.. but it wouldn't be MY hands to kill him. Grab the nearby lethal and SHOOT. THAT. TEENAGER!! Your boss may not agree with the logistics of this, but you get the job done.

This simulation was to PROVE that Sock atleast CARES a bit about Jonathan to want to get to know him. and to not kill him on the spot. Now if It was the other way around.. I'm not exactly sure..

EVIDENCE 3: JONATHAN KINDA HATES SOCK

(he looks like hes standing up to a school bully)

At the beginning of Welcome to Hell, hes clearly annoyed and STILL is annoyed by some of Sock's actions by the end, but he atleast isn't mad enough to NOT act like he could put up with Sock. I think the closest thing to gayness from Jonathan was when he moved the backpack for Sock to sit down.

In Welcome to Hell 2, he IS PISSED at this guy, and honestly, if Sock kept on knocking down those desks, i CANT blame him..

Maybe Sock kinda ruined the vibe when they expressed their love for Jonathan's mother, its hard to say really..

Jonathan makes this very clear that he DOESN'T even wanna be Sock's friend, I mean HAVE YOU HEARD THE THEME SONG?

SUMMARY:

Sock wasn't able to win Jonathan's heart, making him tonight's biggest loser.

YAOI: 6.5/10

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (13) - Moving Through the Silence Without Motion

Whew- sorry, this one took longer than anticipated!! I was on vacation last weekend and couldn't make the last-minute changes I wanted to make that would have allowed me to post on Tuesday, but it's all done now! ☺ Back on schedule!

✧˖ Release Schedule: Every 2 Weeks ˖✧

Summary: The camp deals with the aftermath of their encounter with the dream visitor, and a certain fluffy friend joins their odd group of misfits. Ofelia experiences another embarrassing predicament, and their party finally enters the goblin camp to face down the three leaders and clear the way for the tieflings in the Grove. Branded by a priestess, rediscovering the luxury of coffee, and sharing a sweet opportunity with her favorite fanged companion aren't enough to cushion the blow of reality all while Astarion tries to sort through emotions he would rather not address.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,603

AO3

Took some fun screenshots!! Please enjoy the opening below the cut ❤

✧˖Tag List: @khywren @allymcfee

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart pokes her face into Ofelia’s tent, pale and clammy. Ofelia scrambles to wipe her tears away, nodding and meeting the half-elf’s eyes.

“Yeah… I think so… did you see it too?” Shadowheart’s lips set in a firm line, nodding softly.

“We all did. Here, it’s dawn… come out. Let’s all sit and talk around the fire.”

Ofelia heeds Shadowheart’s suggestion, pulling her boots on and fixing her hair into a loose bun, resolving to bathe before they start the day. Officially. She hesitates, once again finding her return to her bedroll to be a mystery.

The last thing she remembers is swaying in Astarion’s arms, thinking about how pretty he looked under the light of stars, music from her own world making her feel like they were in their own pocket in time, separated from the tadpole, the cult, all of it. She remembers wishing he’d been from Earth, that way she’d want to go back… And try as she might, she can’t bury these stupid feelings.

Her face flushes in shame at the memory of pressing that kiss to his cheek, that pang of longing when he hadn’t shoved her away but instead gazed at her in surprise… It makes forgetting that it happened ten times worse. Then she returned to her tent, somehow, a faint feeling of unease now clouding her mind. How did she get back? Did she go back alone? She can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something important, but she can’t put her finger on what it might be…

She walks out into the early dawn, stunned to find another surprise- a welcome one at that.

“Scratch!” Ofelia crumples to her knees as he runs up from beyond the outskirts of their camp, the rest of her groggy companions yelping or jumping out of the way as the dog barrels into her. “Oh, I’m so glad you're safe!” She mumbles into his fur as it pokes her neck and cheek and he nearly knocks her backward. He licks her face and barks and she scratches his ears, giving him little kisses on the snout and top of his head.

“Is that a dog? Oh my goodness!” Karlach cries tearfully, bringing a stick over. She seems to be talking to Scratch, but all Ofelia can hear are soft yips and excited growling. “He says he wants to stay if we’ve got the room?”

“Oh my god of course he can stay!” Ofelia sobs, wiping her eyes as Scratch licks the happy tears off her cheeks. “I love him so much,” She sniffles to Karlach and the two of them giggle and lead Scratch over to the fire as the rest of their companions huddle around.

“In addition to Lae’zel, we’re letting more than one mangy mutt stick around?” Astarion frowns, a sour look on his face. Ofelia scoffs as Gale hands her a steaming cup of tea, watching Lae’zel do no more than grunt and roughly shoulder the vampire out of the way on her path toward the fire. His affronted yelp and subsequent snarl make Ofelia laugh under her breath as she smiles at Gale in thanks and hands Scratch a couple of hunks of sausage from their stock.

“You all were approached in your sleep by the same visitor, weren’t you?” Astarion mutters, lips still twisted in displeasure. Ofelia regards his unkempt head of hair with an amused smile, feeling privileged to see him before he’s had a chance to put himself together for the day.

[mud-castle]

I forgot about the kittypet Sandstorm stuff! I think that could be a fun AU, definitely :D

I don't know much about it at all, but I certainly wasn't expecting Fireheart to be related to Tigerclaw. Given Tigerclaw and Rusty's dynamic in canon, I suppose that'll definitely make for some drama between the two.

I wonder how relationships will be this time around, as well. Is it going to be a SandstormxFireheart? Or how about Fireheart's other relationships in general, since he isn't just swapping roles with Sandstorm - he's the oldest (assuming) son of the most well-respected cat in the clan. Is he Goldenflower's child? Realistcally, probably not since Goldenflower had Swiftpaw before getting with Tigerclaw at all, but speaking of Swift, I imagine Fires relationship with him/his other siblings will probably be a Whitestorm/Graystripe thing. Although hopefully closer, but I imagine that depends on how much Fires actually follows in his father's evil pawsteps or whatever.

I have a soft-spot for "aged-up Fireheart" AUs, so hopefully he is cool, and hopefully Sandstorm will give him a hard time because I can imagine Fires as this really good fighter that likes to look cool but also is kind of a huge dork and she relishes in the fact he's not "perfect" like daddy is.

It will probably be more Sandstorm & Fireheart rather than Sandstorm x Fireheart.

He is Tigerclaw's eldest kid and Goldenflower is not his mom, so him and Swiftpaw are more step-siblings. His mom is unknown by anyone in the clan except Tigerclaw. She was might be a kittypet. Don't speculate on that while Tiger is around.

I could write a whole nother post about him and Tigerclaw's relationship. But to put it in a nutshell, Tiger's hard on him for a multitude of reasons. The conscious part of it is Fireheart's other half of parentage, the subconscious part is his resemblance to Pinestar.

As for his relationship with Tigerclaw, well... It wasn't bad, at first, Fireheart thinks. Tigerclaw is hard on him, but he's not cruel. Affection tends to be more of a reward than a given. But Tigerclaw is fairly quick to boast about his son's skills to the clan. He gets a lot of extra training from Tigerclaw when not training with Bluestar all of which quickly makes him the best fighter out of the apprentices, which gets rid of most of the rumors surrounding Fireheart's parentage. So it's all in his best interest clearly. His dad just wants what's best, right? It's not until Bramble and Tawny are born that he notices the stark differences in how Tigerclaw treats them.

Swiftpaw adores him. He knows him as his kickass older brother. And since Longtail is close to Tigerclaw and wants to stay in his good graces there's not really anything to influence Swiftpaw otherwise. Fireheart loves him right back and tries to be a good influence.

He's cool to an outside observer, being the most skilled out of the apprentices due to the extra training and being Tigerclaw's son. But he's insecure and a people pleaser. He's also a massive dork when you really get to know him. No he's not evil.

Him and Sandstorm hated each other through most of their apprenticeship. He's not a bully, but he hangs around her bullies and though he doesn't join in, he won't defend her either. So she's bitter towards him. Sandpaw can't beat him in a fight, but she does leave him in the dust with hunting, which upsets Tigerclaw, which makes Fire a bit bitter. Tiger did not spend his time getting rid of the kittypet rumors surrounding his son just to have him get shown up by a kittypet. They get better eventually though. I honestly see them as platonic, but in a way that can easily be read as romantic.

Sandstorm has ulterior motives for befriending him, but yeah eventually she comes to love his dorky self and finds someone she can relax around. He also likes her for being someone he doesn't have to put on a show for constantly.

[screampied]

‘ V!RGIN KILLA! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. not only does he think he knows what he’s doing, he’s also a virgin. but there’s a first time for everything . . . right? choso, nanami, gojo, geto, ino, toji.

warnings. fem! reader, vīrgin men, unprotected, vīrginity loss, whiny needy men, some college themes, fratboy! toji, pússydrunk men, cōckwarming, cérvix kissin', cunnīlingus, dry humping, finishing quick, spıt, squīrting, bréeding, petnames, sukuna's part didn't save but i'll make it up </3

★ NANAMI KENTO aka the quick learner virgin?!

nanami drools the minute his tip disappears inside of your cunt. he can’t help it - at all.

the balmy warmth you provide him while you’re straddling his waist, basically cockwarming him sends him shivers. “god, ‘s good,” he groans, tugging at the bottom edge of his spot-patterned tie. nanami could feel the raised pointed tips of his ears burning as his eyes slowly flicker down toward your sopping wet pussy. oh, how it’s just profusely leaking with so much strings of your pretty slick. messily, it glosses a shine between your legs, gleaming with thick molasses—almost similar to a stream, and yet this stream was instead flowing down between your legs. “mmh.. ride me, s- show me how to feel good, my love.”

“hey. eyes on me, ‘ken,” you whisper, your fragile breaths growing shallow the moment he’s tightly snug balls deep in. with a ringing loud ‘pop!’ you feel him greedily ease his way past the slight loose ring of your entrance and you moan. he’s in so deep, and you can’t help but shimmy your hips against his lap. nanami told you how he had little to no experience—and yet, he wanted to try this out with you. having you ride him until he couldn’t think straight. whenever you ran your hands down his carved tone body, a roaring fire would ignite within him. your touch alone sent him chills and he only craved it more. tender fawn-colored eyes that almost resemble honey meet your gaze, and he leans into your touch the moment you cup your hands on his cheeks. slowly, you’re lustfully swaying against his lap back and forth and he groans. “that’s it, you’re doin’ good, kento. hold my hips.”

“like . . this?” he hoarsely asks, and hefty hands suddenly cling onto your waist. you moan, nodding as he gently holds them in place, trying to guide your movements. his cock stretched you out in each ‘n every way, curiously exploring through the gummy walls of every slick orifice. nanami’s starting to sweat already—and you smile, watching as he sneaks a fat thumb down between your pried open legs. “mngh. . you’re soakin’ all on me. is that normal?” he breathes, and you can see a bit of drool starting to seep down the cracked corners of his lips.

soaking, he could hear the sloppy sounds of your cunt slamming back against his tense thighs and it makes him throb. in zealous sync, you end up throbbing too, and he feels said throb right against the the narrow tip of his cock. “ah, y- yeah, ‘s normal, kento,” you inhale sharply, wrapping your arms around him. callused fingertips his drag a straight line down your skin as he starts to rock you faster into his needy pelvis.

the stretch makes you whimper - his dick’s so fat, and your pussy swallows all numerous inches every time. over ‘n over, your ass violently hits back against his lap as you continue to ride him, amorously tossing your swerving hips in a circle. you could see the blond’s eyes starting to grow hooded, and he’s never looked so in love. your cunt had him hungry for more. “like that, baby?”

“mhm, i like a-anything you do to me, sweetheart,” nanami hoarsely coos, pulling up the back of your hand for a loving kiss. you’re riding him well—watching as he slowly cocks his head back, exposing the oval-shaped adam’s apple in his throat. it’s a simple yet sexy detail that makes you pulsate nevertheless, and nanami groans. “f- fuck, i need you. i need more, ‘m not gonna last, honey if you hah.. keep ridin’ me like that.”

and within a few hasty strokes, nanami starts to get the hang of your rhythm. by the hang, he’s starting to fuck you against his cock now. vast, open hands of his cling onto your waist tight before he’s occasionally spanking your ass. “ngh, good girl. that’s my girl, ugh,” and as you’re whining, nanami pulls you into his neck. the pearly silver band of his flashy watch tickles down your back as he grabs at a nice chunk of your ass, spanking it. “r- ride it like it’s yours, sweetheart. ride it like i’m yours.”

he’s whispering filthy nothing in your ears—trying to drown out your cute sobbing whimpers and your even louder pussy. nanami’s cock was deranged - it was reaching through every sensitive spot of yours, wasting no time to introduce itself near the gummy ridges.

“fuck, fuck!” you’d squeal out, gasping once the swollen head of his cock tickles its way near your hidden g-spot. oh, that spot. you couldn’t help but get sheepish, a cock drunk smile twisting against your lips. he’s so snug, rearranging your insides while continuing to spank your ass. it’s almost as if he knew what he was doing, and nanami knew how to tame your aching cunt with just a few sloppy strokes. “ken, ‘m close. fuckin’ close.”

“i know, i know. give it t’ me,” he whispers, his voice pitching deeper ‘n deeper after each sloppy thrust. nanami’s pumping you full, swallowing thickly to ease the inside of his mouth that’s parched, akin to the sahara. nanami groans, gingerly making you slam your hips against him harder. “fuck, work those hips sweetheart. show me how messy my pretty girl can be, h- huh?”

you’re whimpering constantly, sounding like nothing more than a broken record as you’re gradually being led to your release. it’s a candied sweet taste in your mouth that never goes away, and once you finally came—you were hysterical.

nanami huffs heavily, holding you tight as your hips come to a sudden devastating stop. he’s still buried thick inches deep before he groans, caressing a palm against your tender rear. “hah, that’s m- my girl,” he coos, feeling you drench a portion of his cock with your slimy slick. it’s warm, and you’re still whining incoherent blurbs as you bury your face into his neck. “whew, we’ll have ‘ta try that again,” and once he plants a wet kiss near your temple, he strokes your chin with a thumb. “but another position though. if that’s alright.”

“w- what position?” you tiredly pant, bringing a hand toward your sticky-coated back.

nanami gives your ass its final playful spank before whispering lowly against your lips. “ever heard of doggy, my love?”

#GETO SUGURU aka the nasty virgin?!

geto’s a filthy nasty virgin, unashamed. insisting how he’s never experienced something like this before, smugly stating how he ‘did his research.’

“lie back, sweetheart,” geto huffed, flipping you right back over on your back. he’d just got done with fucking you round after round for the first time, and it seemed like the word ‘stamina’ didn’t exist in his vocabulary. one second inside and he already wanted more—he was greedy, and it was never enough. as you’re struggling to catch your breath that drags out of your full puffed lungs, you stare up at geto. right away, his dark eyes dart between your legs and the dripping dewy mess that streams between your puffed cunt. “what a pretty sight, look at thaaaat,” and geto inches his face between your thighs, staring at frosty-white wads of cum that pour straight out of your full swollen folds.

so much. . you were practically overflowing with ribbons of sticky hot cum ‘n many more strings of it before he sticks out his tongue. “hah, least i can do is clean my girl, hm?” and you whimper, feeling him spread your legs apart with two hands. “kinda saw this in a video once.”

“s- sugu!” you gasp, your words leisurely turning into moans the second he dives straight into your pussy - nose first.

right as the tip of his tongue creates a frenzied slurping trail that soaks straight your cunt, he gives you the most feral look. his pretty black lashes briefly flap shut as he’s devouring you wholly, jerking his head from side to side. choked, gargled moans continue to steal out from your strained vocal cords as a hand of yours fishes through his matted tresses. “fuck, f- fuck like that, clean it up, baby.”

“mhm,” he smears his entire chin against your cunt, feeling it get doused with your sweet slick almost right away. he’s nasty, lapping up his bittersweet cum that spills out from between your folds like it’s nothing. geto barely even bats an eye, and that’s when he groans the second you feel a bit of weight dip against the mattress. he’s now humping against the edge of the bed, rocking his slim hips over ‘n over. “goddamn, ‘m so horny still, sweetheart. ‘y have no idea,” he whimpers shakily, and he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head as a few thin strands of hair gets in the way of his view. “h- hey, be a doll ‘n tie my hair back for me, yeah?”

as you’re chasing your quick-steady breaths, you grab his ponytail holder from his wrist, neatly putting his raven locks into a messy bun. “good girl, take such good care of m—mmph.”

geto lowly chuckles against your pussy once you give him a soft push that makes his nose brush up against your clit. your folds were so cute ‘n runny, filthily oozing with velvety remnants of his warm, pasty cum. “mhh, suguru,” you’d whine, feeling your back continuously arch against the stained white sheets. geto’s got a few loose strands that continue to run down his face, past his brows—making him appear to be even more handsome whilst between your legs. each thoroughly slurp gets louder, and that’s when he starts to loll his tongue out inside of you.

one thing about suguru geto was that he had a long fuckin’ tongue..

it extends fully, and you give his hair a rough tug once the tip of his tongue playfully slithers its way near your twitching sensitive nub. at that moment, you feel a rapid chill race through you and you let off the most shrilling whimper. “ah! suguru, fuck, ‘m sensitive there, don’t s- stop,” and as you’re babbling from his lengthy tongue, he starts to purse his lips. they curl up, puckering fully before he’s drinking everything out of you.

it’s a long carnal suck that makes your eyes cross and you feel like your life’s flashing before your eyes. splotches of white were all that clouded your vision as your thighs shake—nearly suffocating him with your plush, warm legs. “o- oh, fuck,” you’d mewl, and you knew that incoming pressure from anywhere.

you were close.

geto grunts, savoring your taste entirely. you’re just so sweet that your flavor melts on his tongue and he’s teasingly thrusting his tongue in and out of your sobbing folds. seconds later, that’s when you shriek. “c’monnn, give it to me,” and he even brings a hand between your thighs, spanking your precious cunt. “make a mess on my tongue, wanna see what it’s like,” he groans, his rocking against the edge of the bed intensifying. geto’s famished for more, and his bare cock twitches against the rocky mattress frame as you’re squirming on his tongue. by now, he’s licked you clean, and in return, he’s left with a locked jaw and glimmering wet chin. geto eyes you intently, giving your pussy its final sloppy spank before whispering against your folds. “let go for me, baby.”

as if on cue, you gush out loudly, feeling every muscle within you snap ‘n stretch outward. it was as if a crushing weight was lifted from your shoulders—but in this case, your shoulders were your tummy. “fuuuck!” you whimper out, squeezing your eyes shut as your legs give out.

geto’s mouth was still glued to your sticky slippery cunt as his tongue’s slowed its licks down. you tasted even sweeter, and he’s slurping you right up - softly moaning against your cunt as he reaches to touch himself. geto’s tongue’s constant movements scratch such an itch in your brain, making you let off a cute gasp. “ughh, s- suguru,” you whimper, feeling your thighs still shiver.

your tummy heaves in and out repeatedly, and you glance down at geto who’s got the sleaziest grin. “t- thought you said you didn’t know what you were . . hah, doing.”

“oh, baby i don’t,” geto rasps, sitting up from between your legs. he closes the distance between you both, pressing a steamy hot kiss against your quivering plump lips. you moan, getting a brief taste of yourself on his hot tongue before he playfully bites near your bottom lip. “my research helped me a lot,” and you moan the second you feel him give your sloppy cunt a big squeeze with his palm. “but . . i didn’t know my girl was a squirter. think we’ll have to do that again,” geto licks underneath your chin. “y’know, for research purposes.”

#GOJO SATORU aka the loser virgin?!

“yeah, yeah,” satoru would stubbornly grumble, cutting you off mid-sentence and rolling his eyes. his leaky tip remains idle, aligning itself against your soddened entrance before he puffs. phew, you were so pretty up close—especially down there. satoru couldn’t help but stare, openly admiring just how slick ‘n soaked you were.

just weeping from both off folds, the entirety of your entrance being coated in nothing but perspiring wetness. satoru swears on his life he knows what he’s doing, but the second the globed head of his cock smears a line down the wet slope of your cunt - he folds.

with a shaky, needy breath, he whines. “god, why are you so fuckin’ wet, baby. ‘s this supposed to happen?”

“yes, ‘toru,” you reassure him, sprawling your legs out a bit more. satoru’s panting, watching as you bring two sets of fingers toward your pretty pussy. with a slightly wide ‘v’ shape, you’re spreading yourself apart and he’s gawking straight between your legs. fuck, you were so soaked that you were starting to drip near the inner crevices of your thighs. you were playing with yourself earlier before he told you how he wanted to try going inside for the first time. but now that he’s up close—satoru can’t help but be a bit flustered. “c’mere, don’t be shy,” and you nearly moan, trailing the print of your thumb down your syrupy-coated slit. “she doesn’t bite.”

satoru scoffs, but he inches closer. so wet, his cock that was being fisted in the palm of his hand was throbbing hard. pulse after fucking pulse, a lightning-shaped vein races down the center of his hand before he groans at how hard you’re making him. “ngh, baby,” and he nearly loses it the second he struggles to align himself. he feels so hot, fuzzy cotton stuffing in his ears once his tip slowly rubs itself in between your drooling flaps. satoru snaps out of it, clearing his throat before puffing out his chest in an attempt to maintain his known ego. “heh- i mean uh- let’s show ya how ‘the strongest’ fucks.”

and apparently, ‘the strongest’ didn’t really know what he was doing after all.

because he’s barely halfway in when he’s cumming - heavily.

emphasis on barely, and satoru lets out a sweet needy whine the second he’s shooting thin milky ropes into you. thick, stringy ribbons of cum envelope inside your pussy with warmth right away. “f- fuck, dammit,” he’d grunt, burying his face into the crook of your neck. satoru’s beefy body presses right up against yours, and he’s shivering at the feeling. it’s unlike any feeling he’s ever felt, and you giggle the second you hear him loudly sigh. “ugh, that wasn’t supposed ‘ta happen.”

“thought you knew what you were doin’, baby,” you cheekily reply, a few beads of sweat racing down the left side of your forehead. satoru sits up, leaning into your ginger embraces—your palm cupping his temple. he’s pouting, an unsatisfied pout extending across each side of his lips.

“i- i doo,” he whines, feeling his thighs starting to heat up near the undersides. satoru clenches his teeth, groaning once you gradually wrap your legs around his slim waist. he’s hot, and you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty ‘lil finger.

wide, crystal blue eyes meet your gaze before satoru exhales into your neck. “mnh, let me try again, baby,” and right as you rub your ankle down his tense back muscles, he gruffs. snowy flapping lashes of his shut tight before he wraps a hand around his lanky cock. “pleasee, c’mon baby. lemme prove myself. i’ll get it this time for real.”

a smile marinates its way against your features as you hum, rubbing a thumb down his sensitive undercut. for a second, you could have sworn you heard satoru purr as he leaned into your touch. you almost forgot how much of a tender spot that was for him. cute.

“okay, go ‘head,” and both of your thighs were practically sticking together. such amounts of his seed glue against your thighs—almost like it was some kind of clingy adhesive. satoru pulls out for a moment, eager to get a look at the sloppy mess and oh.. it was a lot - he came a lot, and satoru couldn’t help but stare at the luminous streams of cum that teared down your polished cunt.

it’s sloppy. satoru’s eyes widen once he feels his tip glide its way against your cervix. right near your g-spot - it’s fuckin’ bumpy, and he feels your legs eagerly twitch the minute his dick slides its way near a spongy area. you’re moaning, laid back before satoru starts to whine.

he can’t help but whimper, softly smacking his swollen tip on your entrance. satoru had no idea what to do next, but he just wanted to play with your pretty pussy some more. the loud echoey smacks from his dick onto your folds make his ears ring…pap after pap and he’s pronounced feral. but that’s right when you hear him sniffle, literally getting lost in your pussy the second he feels your cute pulse on his round, mushroomy tip.

as you wrap your arms around him, hearing him whine once you rub a thumb down his undercut, feeling him awkwardly trying to align himself again with a bashful needy grin.

“toru, are you cryin’?”

#CHOSO KAMO aka the virgin who barely lasts?!

“o- oh, fuckk,” he’d whine, twinkling eyes widening the second he’s watching your tummy cave in from behind. you’re so pretty like this, bent over, sprawled all out on all fours. choso’s stiffly still at first, and he’s very awkward with his hands. bulged, umber-colored eyes bore into your backside, gazing at your skin. stunning, choso grunts as he pistons his hips, glancing at the sunlight that radiates off a shiny part of your spine.

in choso’s eyes, you’re breathing pretty - art, and with the way your skin glimmers in the sun, you looked like a rare painting. “baby, you’re so warm inside.”

“mhm, don’t stop ‘cho,” you moan in response, feeling your loose jaw start to droop allll the way down. you nibble near the inside of your gummy cheek, gasping at just how big he is. his cock was huge, and it didn’t take him long at all to fit nice ‘n snug. its a semi-tight fit that makes your mouth start to water from the inside and you whine. “fuuck, ‘s okay, choso,” and he feels you wriggling your ass against him. choso’s eyes dart towards your bouncy rear and he huffs. “spank it.”

a shuddering breath leaves from choso’s pink parted lips before he lowly rasps. “yeah?” and you felt yourself throb, feeling him press himself all up against you. now, choso’s gently hovering his weight over your back whilst he’s still presenting you with passionate deep strokes. slowly but surely—he’s getting the hang of it, rummaging through your fleshy clingy insides with each punctuating hit. choso’s gruff heavy breaths fan down your neck before he moans, creeping a hand toward your ass. “i can spank you, baby?”

“mmh,” you whimper in response, hearing the salaciously wanton squelches of your cunt help out louder. saying that you were wet was a mere understatement, you were pouring all down his dick with your slick. choso could feel the wetted mess trail between your legs, coating the front of his thighs entirely with your viscid sap. he’s heard about intimacy but it was an entirely different thing to experience it firsthand. “spank me, choso. ‘s okay, you can be a ‘lil rough.”

“ ‘kay,” he huffs, and you let off a soft squeal the second his palm sharply swats against your ass. oh, he liked that. the way your rear recoiled, pretty skin bouncing quickly for a few seconds—all from a small whacking hit. the brief sting made your cunt pulse sporadically as he was still drilling into you. pump after pump, choso turns pussy drunk within seconds. “hah, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he whines, tracing a hand down the pretty curvature of your ass. his fingers dance down every juncture, and it’s almost heart-shaped. “baby, you’re makin’ me feel so—fuck.”

choso gets cut off from his words the moment he feels his dick throb between your soddened cunt. you’re wringing him dry, all while your head is cutely smushed up against your pillow. choso’s speed quickly starts to get relentless, and after a while, he’s starting to understand the human body just a bit more. “ah, choso. fuck me, fuck!” you’d whimper, a curling sensation arising within your toes right as he slams his way into your cervix.

it’s a direct hit, a k.o. as some would might say—and it’s almost as if you’ve got stars ‘n imaginary birds flying over your head like a cartoon because choso’s dick had you stupid.

“somethin’s c- comin’,” he moans, slightly lifting your leg to get a better view. it’s probably been a few minutes and choso’s already panting like a dog. he’s feral - softly planting a stripe of wet kisses down your neck as he’s buried balls deep. “ugh, baby. ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, ngh.”

“inside, ‘cho. ‘s okay,” you whine, feeling his pace grow more relentless and sloppy. choso’s gripping your waist tightly, his bottom lip quivering as he’s feeling a sudden rush overtake his entire body. you’re perfect - he wanted to keep you like this forever, plug you full and keep you warm. you could hear his rough, heavy pants from behind you until he finally came.

whitish thick ribbons pour into you all at once, shooting deep into your womb.

it’s hot - physically and literally.

you’re arched over for him like a bridge and he’s whimpering, furrowing his darkened brows with a pout as choso slowly starts to flood your cunt. globs of sleek strings spray inside your gripping cunt as he gradually pulls out, openly watching as you’re moaning. the feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock had him feeling fuzzy. “m- mhm, choso,” you’d mewl out, hearing him cutely gasp once your cunt sloshes loudly, spitting out thin clumps of his cum. “ ‘m so full.”

“hah- ‘n you’re gonna get even fuller, baby,” he huffs, a pout still glossing over his slickly-wet lips as he stares at your pussy. it’s pretty like this, he thinks. from top to bottom—you’re stuffed full of his gooey hot cum, so much to where it’s shamelessly oozing out of your puffed slit, racing down your numb jittery thighs. you moan, feeling choso drag a thumb down your sobbing, slobbering slit before popping his thumb into his mouth, licking his mess right off his finger.

choso moans at the taste before pouting. “not done, one more round,” and as he glides his tongue across his digit, choso gives your cunt a soft spank before groaning, softly pushing your knees to your chest.

“ ‘m still hungry.”

#TOJI FUSHIGURO aka the virgin who gets humbled?!

“heh. do y’r worst, baby,” toji would snicker, bringing a spank to your ass as he leans back against the couch. lazily, he’s slouching with a half-filled can of cheap beer in his hand. he’s smug, and not only was he smug but he was also virgin - the cockiest.

it’s funny because toji didn’t know what the fuck he was doing…however, he was more than willing for you to ‘show him’ how to feel good.

of course—he’s haughty that you won’t be able to take him, but it’s much to be expected for a pompous fratboy. “mmh, goddamn,” he’d grunt, peering down at your glossed weeping pussy. it’s wet, and as you straddle him, toji squeezes the energy drink in his hand. “slow, baby s- slow.”

with a cooing whisper, you sprinkle a few kisses near the inside of his neck. “slower, toji? but you’re the one who kept rushin’ me,” you tease, and from your peripherals, you can see his jaw tensing. fuck, the moment your cunt starts to ease down on his length in a gradually paced manner, toji groans. it’s a low husky groan - the groan where he’s already tossing his head back.

“y’r bein’ a brat,” he snarls, sliding an arm around your waist. your pussy was hypnotic - and you wearing one of his oversized jade-colored frat hoodies only made things ten times worse. you looked so pretty, and he couldn’t help but trail his hooded eyes down your body, stopping at the hem of your waist and right near your ass. “fuck- slow, baby. ‘m damn sensitive,” and you watch the sly smirk that was once plastered on his scarred lips slowly starting to fade. toji’s getting more ‘n more pussy drunk, and he knows it too. “mhh, like that. fuck me good.”

“you talk too much,” you teasingly grip his chin, watching as his leafy verdant eyes gaze into yours. he’s hard - and not only is he hard but he’s insanely sensitive. toji scoffs, but that soon disappears the moment your hips start to move. “hnghh,” you suck in a brisk breath, eyes nearly widening once you start to feel the gaping, lewd stretch. his cock was long ‘n tall—merrily expanding through your cunt within each thick inch.

one thrust - just one fuckin’ thrust and that was all it took for you to nearly break. he’s huge, and you whimper the second you feel his plump swollen sack kiss near the undersides of your bare ass. “oh yeah? make me shut up then.”

famous last words.

because even though toji’s all talk, he gets humbled right away the minute you change him as a person entirely all from your sweet, mesmerizing cunt. toji leans back, groaning gruffly against your ear as faint gurgled whines depart from his throat. you’re riding him good, shutting him with your pussy—humbling him with your hips. oh, you’re just riding him into complete oblivion. toji was left speechless, and instead of you moaning his name, he was moaning yours.

“ngh, fuck. god, ‘s good don’t fuckin’ stop workin’ those hips, s- shit,” he’d huskily snarl, squeezing the plastic can within his palm, crushing its shape. toji’s cologne scent was loud, and it completely rubbed off against your skin as you moaned. you were grinding against him back ‘n forth, whining continuously before milliseconds passed by and you’re now starting to feel your stomach churn churn churn.

each eye rolling, toe-curling feeling that twists in the depths of your insides due to his cock makes you sob out moan after moan. you try to silence yourself by sneaking a few needy kisses near toji’s scarred lip. he grunts with a clenched jaw, returning the gesture with a hand glued to your ass.

it moves like water - toji was always an ass man, and now that he was finally living the dream, he spanked you again, and again, and again.

the jiggle against his palm makes his dick throb, and you feel it right inside of your cunt. “doin’ okay, toji?” you tease breathlessly, watching as a shiny string of saliva tears away from both lips. you felt him squeeze his way wholly inside of your fleshy entrance, ploddingly and sloppily thrusting in and out.

“tch. less talkin’ more ridin—oh fuck,” he’d gruff, his shoulders slackening as you sensually rutted your hips further into him. god, you were teasing him so much and your wet, filthy cunt was to blame. he wanted more, more more. the way you moved in such a relentless manner drove toji crazy and he was starting to think maybe the two of you were just more than roommates. your pussy had that kind of power, and it’s not even seconds later before toji’s about to cum.

but surprisingly, he ends up lifting you with burly arms, pulling out with a speed equivalent to the flash. he moans, staring at his leaking reddened tip that’s dribbling from the slit with sticky droplets of warm cum. he’s heaving, staring back at your sparkly-coated cunt before he makes you recline back against the couch.

“f- fuck, ‘s much. lie back, baby. l- lie back for me,” and once you do, he merely pounces on you. toji exhales out a deep, heavy sigh before aligning his swollen tip near your dripping cunt. “god, look at ‘er,” he grunts, and you could hear the tremor in his voice as he’s spraying his seed on the outer part of your wetted entrance. it’s long, striped stripes of ivory ropes that paint your bare tender clit and he licks his lips at the filthy sight. “hah, so fuckin’ hot. milkin’ me like that, f- fuck.”

“you came pretty quick, toji,” you jibe, spreading your sopping cunt lips apart so he could play between your legs some more. with a loud ‘thwack’, toji smacks his swollen tip against your pussy, smearing his blushing crownhead up ‘n down your stained crying slit. it’s so messy, and you watch as his tongue briefly sticks out between his ruby lips.

“let’s not talk ‘bout that,” toji grumps, and you moan the second he’s re-aligning himself. his fat girth was ready to introduce itself yet again to your swollen insides. toji’s still panting, and you can see how flustered he was because he’s visibly pouting. “f- fuck, i . . i need a minute,” and he pulls back out, slouching back against the couch. you crawl over toward him and within a split second he wraps an arm around you.

yeah, he’s obsessed.

“give me . . a minute,” he huffs, his chiseled abs flexing through his grey dingy tank. toji pulls you into his beefy hardened pecs before staring down at you, and your eyes widen once he kisses the top of your forehead. “next time, ‘m gonna last ten- no, thirteen rounds.”

“sureee thing, big guy.”

spoiler - he doesn’t.

#INO TAKUMA aka the virgin who…falls in love?!

ino who moans out a sweet gasping, “f- fuuck me,” the second he’s easing his way inside of you for the first time. his dick feels soft for a second, tenderly assuaging through your insides before he whimpers at the new feeling. ino’s heavily panting out short breaths, staring at your bare exposed body that prettily sits underneath him before he moans. “ ‘m not hurtin’ you, right, angel?”

“no, no. ‘m fine, ino,” you let off a soft sigh, the lower parts of your legs snaking around his waist. ino grunts, going as slow as he can. he’s barely even a few inches in and he’s already sweating profusely. “easyy, that’s it, baby,” you reassure him with labored breaths, staring into his droopy hooded eyes. ino’s beanie was on the verge of sliding off the side of his head before he sucks his teeth at your gripping warmth. “hold my hand, here,” and you could feel his body shudder the moment you intertwine your fingers against his.

he’s big, and he knows it. ino scrunches his dark brows into a furrow, trying his best to blindly navigate his way inside of your cunt. right away, you’re clenching around him tight, locking your unstable legs around his waist before hearing him let off a sweet whimper.

“ugh, you feel so good, so good,” and within each wet-sounding thrust, his words start to pitch. it gets lower ‘n lower, raspy and husky. ino’s skin starts to glue against you thanks to the splotches of sweat dampening against each other before he huffs. “tell me it's too much, ngh—fuck,” and his eyes soften the moment you cup his face. “s- sorryy, am i talkin’ too much?”

“ ‘s okay, ino,” you inhale, and his pace starts to get quicker. vast, thorough thrusts make you feel every inch. his frantic rhythm rocks into you steadily, causing the bed to constantly wail out pathetic whiney creaks. you brush a thumb across the side of his cheek before moaning, feeling his tip zigzag its way across your sensitive g-spot. “ah! right there, ino. there, baby t- thereee.”

“there, oh- okay,” he tries to take note, studying your body’s movements. into felt his cock twitch at your reaction. so cute. you’d clench around him tight before arching your back, dragging your nails down his soft skin. ino’s stretching you out to the very limit, plummeting his dick into you over and over until you’re seeing nothing but cloudy blobs of white. you hadn’t even realized your eyes were lulling near the back of your head before he cheekily pointed it out. “heh, you look kinda silly like this pretty girl.”

you shoot him a playful glare whilst he’s still driving himself into your mid-thrust and ino sheepishly snickers. “sorry, sorry,” and with a sticky smooch, he brings his lips up against yours. ino’s pace starts to pick up more and more, championing his chiseled askew hips into you. “ah, i think ‘m gonna cum though, shitshitshit,” and as he’s rambling, ino starts to feel his hips into you quicker. “hah, lovie- tell me what ‘ta do. where do i f- finish,” he’d huff breathlessly, sliding his scarred hands near the sides of your waist. “tell me, pretty.”

“inside, baby,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. ino’s eyes widen - darkening, and he groans. the way you talked to him so sweet in his ear, even licking against the outer lobe makes him shiver. you’re a tease, and he only wanted more. ino wanted more . . of you. “wan’ you inside.”

“say it again,” he shakily whines against your neck, nipping a few invisible kisses near the juncture of your exposed collarbone. you tasted sweet, and ino’s mind spun cogwheels throughout each second he’s spent buried inside of you. “talk ‘ta me in that pretty voice- wanna hear you again. p- please.”

with a sobbing mewl from the brief twinges that slowly form into pleasure—you repeat yourself in a desperate mewling cry of, “inside, ino. please, f- fuck me,” and oh- if you saw the look on his face. his heart’s pounding as he’s mercilessly driving his hips into you at full fuckin’ throttle.

ino’s groaning into your neck, feeling his body growing limp before a lengthy multitude of seconds goes by and he’s cumming, hard.

it’s a thin hefty load - runny, stringy ribbons of feverish hot cum that splatters deep inside of you.

ino melts like a puddle into your embrace as you wrap your arms around him. “fuuuck, i lo-” he pauses, getting silenced by a shattering breath. your pussy’s got him secured on a leash, and he’s groaning once he hears himself pour such slimy amounts way into your womb. it sprays everywhere, painting inside and out.

ino kisses his teeth sharply, pressing one more kiss near the tip of your nose before moaning. “h- heh, think i love you, angel,” and you moan, feeling him slowly raise your leg, tossing it over your shoulder.

a hand of his creeps between your gloss-coated, gooey legs that practically stuck together before he pulls out midway, smearing a palm against your stuffed pussy. “ ‘n i love her especially, s- so much.”

[pseudowho]

"Oi mate! This one yours?"

Kento faltered, an exasperated half-smile on his lips as he took you in, one hand on his hip and the other clutching his lower face. You swayed, completely smashed and giggling to yourself, on the bouncer's seat outside the club. The crowds bustled around you, heading home, somewhere between morning and night.

The bouncer looked peeved at your constant mild mockery of him, laughing to yourself with messy hair, a wonky dress, your heels in your hand, and bubbling over with ginrumtequilasoursshots. Kento sighed to himself, his resignation sparking with affectionate humour.

"Yes. Yes, that one is...mine."

Your ears piqued to hear Kento, a genuine grin splashing over your bleary-eyed face. You threw your arms into the air, the bouncer flinching away from you.

"Kento! Uppies!"

"Don't be ridiculou-- not giving you uppies--"

Your face crumpled, all innocent disappointment, and it shot Kento through with knives. A faint blush smattered across high, tight cheekbones, his face otherwise the picture of cool impassivity.

"...fine. Uppies. Just this once."

With a gigglesnort, your head swooped as you allowed Kento to lift you effortlessly onto his back, and sighed deeply into the heat of him, his enormous hands cupping your arse and hips. You felt yourself swayed half to sleep by his steady steps, the cool smell of night air on tarmac, and the sounds of the club fading into the distance behind you.

"...Kento?"

"Hmmm?" You bit your lip at the rumble of his back against your body. You replied, saccharine.

"...love you, Kento. Thanks...thanks for picking me up."

Another rumble, dismissive. "I love you. As if I wouldn't pick you up."

"...some boyfriends wouldn't pick me up--"

"When was I ever 'some boyfriends'?"

You bit into his shoulder, squirming against his back as he tensed. You fizzled, every nerve alight with liquor and want. Kento was silent for a moment, still walking in and out of streetlight shadow, in, out, in, out...

"...besides, I'm your husband."

You gasped, your head swimming with drink and surprise. "Oh yeah! Oh wow...my husband...yeah."

Kento scoffed, used to this. He felt your hands trail over his chest as he pressed you into the back seat of the car, strapping you in. He knew better than to put you and your drunk, wandering hands into the passenger seat.

You barely blinked, snoring in the back seat, before you awoke with a jolt and a squeak, being carried into the house. Kento juggled keys, and the car blip-blipped behind him as he fumbled the door open, kicking it closed behind him.

"Hey, Kento..." you whispered, loudly, as if bestowing a great secret, "...I think...we should go to bed..."

"Ah, yes. Definitely."

"...yeah?" You flirted, not as sly and seductive as you thought. Kento's nose grazed yours, his voice lowering a decibel. He laid you back on the bed, and crawled over you, strong arms bracketing you in as he spoke.

"...first...I'll undress you, nice and slow."

You squirmed, giggling beneath his forehead kisses, and he continued.

"...then, I'll get something more...comfortable, out of your wardrobe."

You bit the back of your hand, wiggling beneath him as his twinkling eyes drank you in.

"And then...I'll get you all dressed up."

You were on fire, alight with promise, and groped shamelessly at Kento's biceps as he chuckled.

"...and I'll take off all your make-up, and put you in your ugliest pyjamas, and brush your teeth, and put you to bed. With a glass of water and some pain relief on the nightstand."

You slapped his chest in a half-genuine sob, devastated, certain you'd managed to seduce him this time.

"Nooo, Kentoooo...please please please fuck me--"

"Absolutely not."

"But why not?!"

"Behave yourself."

"Don't you want me?"

"--looking like a sloppy Tanuki? No, my darling--"

"Hate you."

A quiet rumble, a laugh as he made his promise come true, stripping you naked just to dress you again. Brushing your teeth. Cleaning your face, and moisturising it. Rolling you into bed, more wine than woman.

You managed just a few more incoherent noises of complaint...before soft snores filled your bedroom. Kento huffed, chuckling to himself as he got ready for bed.

One night, you convinced yourself as you dipped into sleep, you may manage to seduce him while drunk. Tonight was not that night. Nor the next night. Not the next night. Nor the next night--

[amirasainz]

Can you please do driver reader is literally the absolute Angel of the paddock and everyone adores her, she’s the cutest sweetest little bean that you can’t help but love, she’s a Redbull driver and Christian always fawns over her and talks about his ‘daughter’ ( it’s clear she’s the favourite ). Even the older drivers love her e.g kimi, jenson, Seb, mark. Platonic pleaseeee

Omg, that is such a sweet idea. I did the format a bit differently, hope you don't mind.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

The Redbull Princess

YN YLN was a known name in the motor sport world. Not only was she the youngest driver currently on the grid - only 19 years - but she is the first female to ever drive for RedBull. Not oy that, but also the only woman on the grid.

Despite having a different gender, the other drivers never treated her bad. In fact, one could say that YN got the whole "Princess Treatment" from the drivers and teams. Each driver has taken a special place in her life.

Exhibit A: The protective one

The paddock was buzzing with energy, reporters swarming like bees near the Red Bull garage. YN was prepping for her media rounds, already feeling the weight of the spotlight on her. As she stepped into the press pen, a group of journalists immediately approached, firing off questions.

"YN, how do you feel about the pressure of being the youngest driver? Do you think it affects your performance?"

Before she could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, slipping between her and the reporters with a grin that was anything but friendly. "I think that's enough for now," Max said, his blue eyes narrowing. "She’s got a race to focus on. Back off."

The reporters, visibly intimidated by the reigning World Champion, quickly shuffled away. YN let out a breath of relief, nudging Max with her elbow.

"You know, I can handle them."

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. "Yeah, but why would I let them bother you when I can have fun scaring them off?"

"You're impossible," she laughed. "But thanks."

Exhibit B: The gossip King

YN walked into the Ferrari garage, still buzzing from practice. She found Charles leaning against his car, drinking water. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Charlie! Did you see that move I pulled in turn 9?" she said, excitedly plopping down next to him.

Charles grinned, instantly slipping into gossip mode. "I did! Smooth as butter. But did you hear about Fernando's radio message? He was furious about the tire degradation. Drama!"

YN's eyes widened. "No way! Spill all the tea, Leclerc."

Charles leaned in, whispering. "Apparently, his engineer told him to manage his tires better, and Nando snapped, saying, ‘I am managing them!’" He mimicked Fernando’s accent, making YN burst into laughter.

Exhibit C: The helping hand

The young RedBull driver just exited her car, when she felt someone grabbing her Birking Bag. When she quickly turned her head, she was meat with the sight of Carlos not only caring her bag in his hands and her coat on his arm, but carring his own stuff as well.

"Carlito, what are you doing? You don’t have to carry all my stuff for me." she told him, after they started walking towards the entrance.

Carlos mate an irritated sound, before responding to her. "Nonsense, hermana. Your job is to win this weekend. So let me help you with all the other things, comprende?"

Before Carlos could get an answer, she threw her arms around him, whispering a small thank you in his ear.

Exhibit D: The personal chef

YN sat in the Red Bull hospitality area, poking at her plate of food with a discontented look. Yuki walked over, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"Not good enough for you, huh?" Yuki teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

YN scrunched up her nose. "I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t eat this."

Without missing a beat, Yuki stood up. "I’ll make you something. What do you want?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yuki, really? You don’t have to!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you’re picky. I know that. What do you want? Miso soup? Onigiri?"

YN tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Onigiri sounds perfect."

Within minutes, Yuki was back, placing a plate of freshly made onigiri in front of her. YN took a bite and sighed contentedly. "You're the best, Yuki."

He grinned. "I know."

Exhibit E: The "annoying" prankster

YN was busy trying to make sure her helmet and gear were ready when suddenly, her entire backpack fell off the counter with a loud thud, spilling everything.

"Lando!" she yelled, spinning around, catching the British driver grinning like a mischievous child.

"What?" Lando said, feigning innocence, hands up. "It slipped."

YN gave him a look but couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face. Lando always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was through relentless pranks.

"One day, Norris, one day!" she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"I’ll be waiting," Lando chuckled, before helping her pick up her things

Exhibit F: The shoulder to cry on

"I just can't believe it. I was so close. How did I manage to bin the car into the wall on the last corner" muttered the 19 year old. Her face pressed in Oscars neck, who was busy stroking her hair. He knew better than to interrupt her during her rant. Knowing it would help her when she got everything of her chest.

After a moment, she shakily breathed out. Oscar knew that the only thing he could do now was to let her fall apart while he would catch every piece of her.

And that's what he did. While she cried her heart out, Oscar held her close to him, rocking them slowly in a soothing matter. It felt like nothing could happen to her in Oscars arms. He would protect her from the outside world as long as she needed

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

Exhabit G: The fashionista

Lewis stood beside YN, eyeing her racing suit critically before smirking. "That’s not gonna work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at her boots. "Those shoes? No way. They don’t match the rest of the suit."

YN raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to walk the runway, Lewis. I’m racing."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can do both. Come on, let’s get you a new pair of shoes. You’ll thank me later."

And true to his words, YN received a new pair of racing shoes only a few hours later. They certainly looked better than her old pair.

Exhibit H: The mother-hen

George was hovering near the buffet in the paddock, watching YN closely as she piled food onto her plate. He narrowed his eyes as she bypassed the salad section.

"YN, you need to eat more greens. And have you had any water today?" George asked, his tone dangerously close to motherly.

YN groaned. "George, I’m fine. I had water this morning."

"That’s not enough," he replied sternly, filling a glass and handing it to her. "Drink. Now."

She pouted but took the glass. "Okay, Mom."

Exhibit I: The proud dad

During a press conference, Christian Horner stood beside YN, smiling at the reporters. "You all know my daughter here is the star of the show," he said, gesturing towards YN.

YN blushed at the comment. "Christian!"

The reporters laughed, but YN knew Christian wasn’t entirely joking. He had taken her under his wing from day one, treating her like family. And she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Exhibit J: Bwoah

In a rare quiet moment, YN had somehow convinced Kimi Räikkönen — the Iceman himself — to do a TikTok trend with her. As the camera rolled, Kimi deadpanned his way through the trend, barely moving but somehow nailing it.

"Thanks for doing this, Kimi," YN said, grinning as they finished.

Kimi shrugged. "Bwoah, don’t mention it, kid. But don’t tell the other drivers that you are my favourite"

YN laughed. "Deal."

[navybrat817]

Vanilla Frosting

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a call at home and you decide to tease him a bit.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, banter, teasing, dirty thoughts, very slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he worships you.

A/N: I blame these photos as they gave me CEO vibes. And @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer . Again, before our couple has Muffin and Bean. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“I thought you said no calls, Boss.”

Bucky sighed and rolled up his sleeves as he looked toward the kitchen. You stood in the doorway with crossed arms and slow building irritation in your eyes. The sight of you always lightened his mood and made his heart race, but that look wasn't a good sign. Oh, he was in trouble.

Some sort of trouble.

As a CEO, he was always prepared to take the fall when it came to his company. Seeing your kissable mouth set in a grim line though? “It’s Steve’s fault,” he blurted out, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation.

“Really, Buck?” Steve’s voice rang out from the laptop speaker.

“Yeah, really,” he snapped. When Steve found a partner like you, he’d get why he bent his will to you over everyone else. Hell, he welcomed Steve getting a bit of payback because it would mean his best friend would have found happiness. “I’m sorry, Cupcake,” he added in a softer tone to you.

He didn’t want to take the call, he really didn’t. All he wanted to do was hold you and forget about the stress of work for an evening. He even assured you that there would be no work tonight, but Steve insisted he get on a video chat with some of the executive team. God knew the punk was relentless, but the unimpressed look on your face made him want to fire everyone and start from scratch.

The two of you had plenty of money, so you’d be set if he went that route.

“Steve’s fault, huh?” You slowly smiled after a moment. “Okay. You take the call and I’ll start making some cupcakes.”

Bucky cocked his head with a confused stare as you went further into the kitchen and out of sight. Baking cupcakes wasn't out of the ordinary for you, but you saying “okay” wasn't okay. He knew better. There was no possible way he was off the hook for this. He already had at least ten gifts in mind to buy you once the call wrapped up.

“I love you,” he called after you, not at all ashamed for anyone to hear that as they joined the meeting. If anyone eyeballed him or said an unkind word about voicing his feelings for you outside of the office, they could find another job.

“Love you, too!” You called back.

That brought a small smile to his face. “Let’s get started so we can all get back to our regular evening plans,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

After a minute, he glanced over the monitor as he heard gentle movement in the kitchen. You weren't slamming things around, which was good. You understood how crazy things could get since you were his secretary. It didn't mean he enjoyed taking time away from the two of you and he didn’t want you upset with him. Even if you weren't upset, he still had to make it up to you. He-

“Hey, Bucky?” Your eyes lit up as you appeared in the doorway again with a small bowl. He was certain he forgot how to breathe when he eyed what you were wearing: a new black and white apron. And nothing else. Jesus fucking Christ. “You want vanilla frosting for the cupcakes, right?”

Bucky subtly shifted in his seat as you sauntered further into the room, his throat dry at the sight of you. The curve of your hips, your hardened nipples teasing him through the fabric. Calling you beautiful wasn't enough. Your beauty was transcendent, indescribable. The kind that made the strongest of people drop to their knees. He was a powerful man, but still just a man at the end of the day and you rendered him powerless. And right now he needed to focus on the call, but how could he focus on anything but you?

He cleared his throat when Jack rambled on about something. Or was it John? Who gave a fuck? “Cupcake,” he growled.

“I know I do. Maybe you can frost me later?” You scooped a bit of frosting onto your finger and wrapped your lips around it with an obscene moan. Thankfully he had his microphone turned off. They didn't need to hear your pretty sounds. “Mmm.”

He groaned when you showed him your tongue. He knew it was frosting, but the image made it easy to picture you wrapping your warm mouth around his cock and showing him his release before you swallowed like a good girl. It took a lot of control not to palm himself. Surely everyone would understand if he ended the call now. Why the fuck did he take this call?

Making sure his hand was out of sight, he beckoned you closer with his finger. If he was lucky he could get you to take the apron off, sit in the nearby chair, and touch yourself. Or you could keep the apron on. As long as he could see your glistening pussy. Even looking wouldn't be enough. He had to get his mouth on it, his cock in it.

But you didn't go to him.

Instead, you tsked with the finger you licked and pointed at the laptop. “Oh, no, Boss. You listened to Steve and took the call. Now deal with the consequences,” you smiled sweetly, turning on your heel and giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walked back into the kitchen.

Yep, he was in big trouble.

Bucky's fists clenched as he got back to the task at hand, but he also chuckled. He deserved a bit of blue balls for the time being. He also had to respect the way you played the game, but he knew how to play the game, too. Before the night was over, he’d be back in your good graces. He’d eat one of your delicious cupcakes before he got a taste of you. And he'd remind you that he didn't have the world because of money, power, or any of that.

Bucky Barnes had the world because he had you.

Oh, these two. 🥰 Steve isn't even upset for getting blamed. 🤣 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART 2

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

-

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

-

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

-

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

-

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

-

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

-

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

-

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[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1��̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

[shotmrmiller]

kyle asking price and johnny what's up with simon having his earbuds in and phone in hand the moment they touch foot on base because before last week, he hadn't even known simon had a phone.

how did you think he got in contact with people?

i just figured he didn't.

anyway, price just shrugs and says, "gotta new girl or somethin'." johnny nods absently, lips twisted in thought.

"somethin' like tha'."

sure enough, come dinner time he can hear a higher pitched voice carrying a sense of urgency or excitement, he can't make out which it is, words coming out in a rapid fire manner.

accent is distinct too, colloquialism that hints at a different region or even country, peppered with slang he's only ever read online.

curious but it's nice to know someone's come to get to know the big man past his rough (and he means bloody rough) exterior.

he quickly tunes it out after, of course, not wanting to intrude on personal matters. but then it's a rare moment when simon's without them.

kyle manages to get snippets then.

(hey, love, just making some dinner; your favorite, actually. shrimp pasta alfredo.)

price taps him on the shoulder and he turns away, snapping back to reality. in the back of his mind, he vaguely remembers simon having an aversion to seafood.

he must be remembering wrong.

in the debrief room while they wait for price, he catches another.

(actually just finished unpacking the last of my stuff. you were a real help with this, i would've hated having to pay for movers.)

kyle recalls seeing simon haunting the hallway as per usual. he must've taken a time off.

on the way to the local strip club. why simon's there at all is a choice but his relationship with you is none of his business.

(yeah, uhm, i'm home and i checked the windows and bathroom like you taught me too. i still can't shake that feeling, yknow? i don't mean to worry you.)

since simon isn't talking to them about it, he must be getting rid of that issue soon. good on him. at least one of them gets to go back to a warm home and a soft pair of thighs.

(kyle doesn't question the other male voice in the call. nor does he question why simon isn't saying a word during it. simon's relationship with you is none of his business. he just hopes he'll get an invitation to the wedding.)

[pucksandpower]

Lovefest

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Oscar thought that adjusting to Formula 1 would be the biggest challenge of his rookie season … no one warned him that being around you and Lando would somehow both traumatize and make him believe in true love at the same time

Based on this request

Oscar steps into the bustling McLaren garage, his eyes darting around as he takes in the flurry of activity. It’s his first day in the paddock wearing papaya and he’s eager to make a good impression.

As he weaves through the mechanics and engineers, he spots Lando chatting animatedly with a woman he assumes must be Lando’s girlfriend.

Approaching the pair, Oscar puts on his friendliest smile. “Hey, Lando! Great to see you, mate.”

Lando turns, his face lighting up. “Oscar! Welcome to the team.” He gestures to the woman beside him. “This is my girlfriend. Babe, this is Oscar, my new teammate.”

You extend your hand, smiling warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you. Lando’s been talking about you non-stop.”

Oscar shakes your hand, chuckling. “All good things, I hope?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you assure him. “He’s really excited to work with you this season.”

Lando nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, mate. It’s gonna be epic. We’re gonna crush it together.”

Oscar grins, already feeling at ease. “That’s the plan. So, how long have you two been together?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, he notices a few nearby mechanics exchange knowing glances and stifle laughter. Lando and you, however, seem oblivious to this as your eyes lock onto each other.

“Well,” Lando begins, his voice softening, “it’s been about two years now, but honestly, it feels like I’ve known her my whole life.”

You blush, squeezing Lando’s hand. “Oh, stop it, you. But really, Oscar, from the moment we met, it was like everything just clicked into place.”

Oscar nods politely, not quite understanding the sudden shift in atmosphere. “That’s great. You two seem really happy together.”

“Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Lando says, his eyes never leaving yours. “She’s my soulmate, my best friend, my everything.”

You giggle, playfully swatting Lando’s arm. “You’re such a charmer. But he’s right, Oscar. We just ... we get each other, you know?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but Lando cuts in, “Remember our first date? I was so nervous I spilled my drink all over myself.”

“Oh my god, yes!” You exclaim, laughing. “But it was adorable. And then you tried to clean it up and knocked over the candle ...”

“Nearly set the whole restaurant on fire,” Lando finishes, grinning. “But you didn’t run away screaming, so I knew you were a keeper.”

Oscar shifts uncomfortably, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment. He glances around, hoping to catch someone’s eye for help, but the other team members seem to be purposefully avoiding their corner of the garage.

You turn back to Oscar, your eyes shining. “Sorry, we got a bit carried away. It’s just, when you find that person who completes you, it’s hard not to gush sometimes.”

Lando nods sagely. “Absolutely. Like, did I tell you about the time she surprised me after a race in Monaco?”

Before Oscar can answer, you jump in, “Oh, Lando, I’m sure Oscar doesn’t want to hear about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Oscar says weakly, trapped by politeness.

Lando grins, oblivious to Oscar’s discomfort. “So there I was, exhausted after the race, and I walk into my hotel room to find it covered in rose petals and candles ...”

As Lando launches into the story, Oscar notices a mechanic nearby making frantic ‘cut it out’ gestures. Confused, he tries to catch the man’s eye, but the mechanic quickly busies himself with a nearby toolbox.

“... and then she steps out of the bathroom in this gorgeous dress,” Lando continues, his voice filled with awe. “I swear, Oscar, my heart stopped for a second. She was like an angel.”

You blush furiously. “Lando, stop it. You’re embarrassing me in front of your new teammate.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” Lando insists. “Oscar, mate, when you find someone who makes your heart race every time you see them, even after years together, you know it’s real.”

Oscar nods, desperately searching for a way to change the subject. “That’s ... that’s really sweet, guys. So, uh, Lando, how’s the car feeling this season?”

But Lando seems to be in his own world now, gazing adoringly at you. “You know, speaking of the car, it reminds me of how supportive she’s been throughout my career. Remember that time you stayed up all night with me before a big race, just talking and calming my nerves?”

You smile softly. “Of course I do. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“And that’s why I love you so much,” Lando says, pulling you close. “You’re always there for me, through the highs and the lows.”

Oscar watches, bewildered, as the two of you seem to forget his presence entirely. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye and sees Daniel Ricciardo approaching, a look of amused resignation on his face.

“Hey, Oscar,” Daniel says quietly, coming to stand beside him. “I see you’ve made the rookie mistake of getting these two started.”

Oscar turns to him, relief evident in his voice. “Daniel, thank god. What’s going on? They’ve been like this for ages.”

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Ah, mate. You’ve stumbled into the Lando and Y/N lovefest. There’s a rule around here: never get them talking about how much they love each other, or you’ll be stuck listening to them being lovesick for at least an hour.”

Oscar’s eyes widen in horror. “An hour? But ... but we have the first testing session soon!”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Daniel says, patting Oscar on the shoulder. “Once they get going, there’s no stopping them. It’s like a force of nature.”

As if to prove Daniel’s point, Lando’s voice rises slightly as he recounts another story. “... and then, on our anniversary, she organized this incredible scavenger hunt all around London ...”

You chime in, your voice equally enthusiastic. “Oh, but Lando, what about the time you learned to cook my favorite meal just to surprise me?”

Daniel leans in close to Oscar, whispering, “See what I mean? They’re in their own little world now. Best to just let it run its course.”

Oscar watches, fascinated and horrified, as Lando and you continue to trade stories and loving glances, seemingly oblivious to the world around you. The garage bustles with activity, mechanics and engineers working around the loved-up couple as if this were a regular occurrence.

“So, uh, how long does this usually last?” Oscar asks Daniel, his voice tinged with desperation.

Daniel checks his watch. “Well, you’re about fifteen minutes in now. I’d say you’ve got at least another forty-five to go, minimum.”

Oscar groans. “But what about testing? Shouldn’t someone ... I don’t know, snap them out of it?”

Daniel laughs, clapping Oscar on the back. “Oh, you sweet summer child. Many have tried, all have failed. It’s best to just let nature take its course. Think of it as your initiation into the team.”

As if on cue, Lando’s voice rises again. “... and that’s when I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.”

You gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Lando, do you really mean that?”

“With all my heart,” Lando says solemnly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, on or off the track.”

Oscar turns to Daniel, a pleading look in his eyes. “There has to be something we can do. Anything!”

Daniel shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, there is one thing that sometimes works ...”

Before Oscar can ask what he means, Daniel cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey, lovebirds! Last one to the track buys dinner for the whole team!”

As if snapping out of a trance, Lando and you both turn, suddenly aware of your surroundings again.

“Oh, shoot!” Lando exclaims. “Testing! Come on, we can’t be late!”

As Lando rushes off to get ready, you give Oscar an apologetic smile. “It was lovely meeting you. Sorry if we got a bit carried away there.”

Oscar watches, dumbfounded, as you hurry after Lando. He turns to Daniel, who’s wearing a self-satisfied grin.

“And that, my friend,” Daniel says, “is how you break the spell. Welcome to McLaren. I’m just happy they’re your problem now.”

As they head towards the track, Oscar can’t help but shake his head, a mixture of amusement and disbelief on his face. It’s going to be an interesting season, that’s for sure.

***

Several months into the season, the McLaren garage buzzes with anticipation. It’s race weekend, and the team has invited a popular podcaster to get an inside look at their operations. Oscar, now comfortably settled into his role as Lando’s teammate, watches with mild interest as the podcaster, Mike, bounces around the garage, microphone in hand, eyes wide with excitement.

“This is incredible!” Mike exclaims, his voice carrying over the din of mechanics at work. “The energy here is just electric!”

Oscar chuckles to himself, remembering his own first days with the team. He catches Daniel’s eye across the pit lane, and they share a knowing smirk.

Mike continues his tour, interviewing various team members, his enthusiasm never waning. Oscar keeps one ear on the conversations while focusing on his pre-race preparations. Everything seems to be going smoothly until he hears the fateful words that make his blood run cold.

“So, Lando,” Mike says, his voice dripping with curiosity, “I couldn’t help but notice your lovely girlfriend here. You two make such a cute couple. How about you tell us a bit about your relationship?”

The entire McLaren garage falls silent. Tools clatter to the ground. A collective groan rises from the team members. Someone in the back yells, “No!”

Oscar feels his chest tighten, his eyes already beginning to water. He looks around desperately, seeking an escape route, but he’s trapped between his car and a wall of mechanics who have frozen in horror.

Lando’s face lights up, oblivious to the panic around him. “Oh, mate, where do I even begin? She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

You blush, squeezing Lando’s hand. “Oh, stop it, you charmer.”

“No, really,” Lando insists, turning to face you fully. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about her.”

Oscar watches in mounting dread as the familiar scene begins to unfold. He catches Daniel’s eye again, silently pleading for help, but Daniel just shakes his head, a look of resigned amusement on his face.

Mike, unaware of the can of worms he’s just opened, leans in eagerly. “That’s so sweet! How did you two meet?”

“Well,” you begin, your eyes never leaving Lando’s, “it was at a charity event. I was volunteering, and Lando was there as a guest ...”

“And I saw her from across the room,” Lando interjects, his voice soft and reverent. “She was helping an elderly gentleman to his seat, and the way she smiled at him ... I swear, it was like time stopped.”

But Lando and you are lost in your own world now, the podcaster forgotten as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

“I remember thinking,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “who is this adorable guy in the McLaren jacket?”

Lando grins. “And I was trying to work up the courage to talk to you all night. I must have walked past your station a dozen times.”

“Thirteen,” you correct him with a giggle. “I was counting.”

Mike looks around, confused by the reactions of the team. He catches Oscar’s eye and mouths, “What’s happening?”

Oscar, his eyes already glistening with unshed tears, just shakes his head frantically. He tries to sidle away, but his movement seems to draw Lando’s attention.

“Oh, Oscar!” Lando exclaims. “You should have seen her that night. She was wearing this beautiful flowy dress that matched her eyes perfectly.”

You laugh, playfully swatting Lando’s arm. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me. But Lando looked so handsome in his suit. I couldn’t take my eyes off him all night.”

Oscar feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Daniel standing beside him, a sympathetic look on his face. “Breathe, mate,” Daniel whispers. “It’ll be over ... eventually.”

Mike, still oblivious to the situation, presses on. “So, what was your first date like?”

The entire garage seems to groan in unison. Oscar feels a tear escape and roll down his cheek.

“Our first date,” Lando says dreamily, “was at this little Italian restaurant. I was so nervous I could barely eat.”

You nod, your eyes sparkling with the memory. “He was adorable. He kept knocking things over and apologizing.”

“But you were so patient,” Lando adds. “Even when I spilled wine all over the tablecloth.”

“Because I could see how genuine you were,” you reply. “How kind and funny and passionate.”

Oscar, unable to take it anymore, turns to Daniel. “Please,” he whispers desperately, “make it stop.”

Daniel pats his back comfortingly. “I know, buddy. I know. But you know the rules. Once they start, there’s no stopping them.”

Mike, finally sensing that something is amiss, tries to steer the conversation back to racing. “So, uh, Lando, how do you balance your relationship with your career?”

But Lando is too far gone now. “Oh, she’s the most supportive partner I could ask for. She’s there for every race, every triumph, every setback.”

“Because I believe in you,” you say softly. “In us. In what we have together.”

Oscar feels another tear roll down his cheek. He looks around the garage, seeing the mix of resignation and amusement on his teammates’ faces. Some have plugged their ears, others have found suddenly urgent tasks to attend to far away from the love-struck couple.

Mike, now looking slightly panicked, turns to Oscar. “Uh, Oscar? Any thoughts on ... on teamwork?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, grateful for the lifeline, but Lando beats him to it.

“Teamwork!” Lando exclaims. “That reminds me of the time we decided to cook dinner together for our six-month anniversary.”

You laugh, the sound light and musical. “Oh god, what a disaster that was!”

“But it was perfect,” Lando insists. “Because we were together.”

Oscar feels his knees go weak. He leans heavily against his car, Daniel’s steadying hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him upright.

“How ... how long?” Oscar manages to croak out.

Daniel checks his watch. “Only twenty minutes in, mate. We’ve got a long way to go.”

Mike, now fully aware that he’s lost control of the interview, looks around helplessly. His eyes land on a senior mechanic, silently pleading for assistance.

The mechanic just shakes his head. “You brought this on yourself, kid. Rule number one around here: never ask about their relationship.”

“I didn’t know!” Mike protests weakly.

“None of us did, the first time,” the mechanic replies sagely. “Consider this your initiation.”

Meanwhile, Lando and you continue your love-fueled reminiscence, oblivious to the chaos around you.

“Remember our first vacation together?” Lando asks, his eyes shining.

You nod enthusiastically. “That little cottage in the countryside. It was so peaceful.”

“Except for when we tried to go hiking and got completely lost,” Lando adds with a chuckle.

“But it led to that beautiful hidden waterfall,” you remind him. “Where you told me you loved me for the first time.”

Oscar lets out a quiet sob. Daniel, still by his side, pats his back sympathetically. “There, there, mate. Let it out. It’s healthier that way.”

Mike, looking increasingly desperate, tries one last time to salvage the situation. “So, uh, about the upcoming race ...”

But Lando and you are in full swing now, trading stories and loving gazes, completely lost in your own world.

“And then there was the time we went to that cooking class together,” you say, giggling at the memory.

Lando groans good-naturedly. “Oh god, I nearly burned down the kitchen!”

“But you made the most amazing chocolate soufflé,” you remind him.

“Only because you were there to guide me,” Lando says softly. “You always bring out the best in me.”

Oscar, his face now streaked with tears, turns to Daniel. “How ... how did you deal with this?” He asks, his voice hoarse.

Daniel shrugs. “You have to learn to find the humor in it, mate. And maybe invest in some good noise-canceling headphones.”

Mike, realizing he’s fighting a losing battle, slumps against a nearby workbench. “I’ve made a terrible mistake, haven’t I?”

The senior mechanic nods sagely. “Yep. But don’t worry, kid. We’ve all been there. Give it another ... oh, forty minutes or so, and they’ll run out of steam. Maybe.”

As if to prove him wrong, Lando’s voice rises again. “Oh, and remember that time we went stargazing in the desert?”

You nod enthusiastically. “How could I forget? The way the stars reflected in your eyes ...”

“It was nothing compared to the way you light up my world,” Lando replies, his voice thick with emotion.

Oscar, unable to take it anymore, slides down to sit on the floor, his back against his car. He draws his knees up to his chest, rocking slightly as he mutters, “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.”

Daniel crouches down beside him, patting his shoulder. “There, there, rookie. It’s all part of the McLaren experience. You’re doing great.”

Mike, looking shell-shocked, turns to the senior mechanic. “Does this happen often?”

The mechanic chuckles. “Often enough that we’ve developed a whole system to deal with it. See those guys over there?” He points to a group of team members huddled in a corner, passing around a packet of earplugs. “They’re the smart ones. Always come prepared.”

As Lando and you continue your lovefest, the rest of the garage settles into a strange sort of routine. Some team members go about their work, seemingly immune to the ongoing spectacle. Others gather in small groups, sharing knowing looks and suppressed laughter.

Oscar, still on the floor, has progressed from quiet sobs to a sort of resigned hiccupping. Daniel sits beside him, offering silent support and the occasional reassuring pat.

Mike, having given up all pretense of conducting an interview, slumps further against the workbench. “I just wanted to talk about racing,” he mumbles dejectedly.

The senior mechanic laughs. “Lesson learned, kid. Next time, stick to lap times and tire strategies.”

As the love-fest enters its second hour, Oscar finally looks up, his eyes red and puffy. “Does it ever get easier?” He asks Daniel plaintively.

Daniel grins, helping Oscar to his feet. “Nah, mate. But you do develop a certain appreciation for true love. And maybe a slight tendency towards nausea.”

Oscar manages a weak chuckle. “I guess there are worse things than witnessing too much love.”

“That’s the spirit!” Daniel says, clapping him on the back. “Now, how about we sneak off for a coffee while these two finish up their romance novel?”

As they make their way towards the exit, carefully skirting around Lando and you (who are now recreating your first dance together, much to Mike’s bewildered amusement), Oscar can’t help but shake his head.

“You know,” he says to Daniel, “when I joined McLaren, I thought the hardest part would be the racing.”

Daniel laughs. “Oh, Oscar. The racing’s the easy part. It’s surviving the Lando and Y/N love story that’s the real challenge. But hey, look on the bright side.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “There’s a bright side?”

“Sure,” Daniel says with a grin. “At least now you know what true love looks like. Even if it does make you want to cry and vomit at the same time.”

As they exit the garage, leaving behind the sound of Lando and you laughing and reminiscing, Oscar can’t help but smile. It’s been a strange journey, but he wouldn’t trade his place on this team for anything in the world.

Well, maybe for a good pair of noise-canceling headphones.

[konigbaby]

König Imagine // MDNI 18+⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ nsfw

warnings : smut, foreplay, dirty talk, dark themes, recieving praise, oral (f + m receiving), rough sex, gentle aftercare

♡ König wants to watch you melt into a dirty fucking mess at his touch, see your pretty lil eyes roll back into your head while he slips his thick fingers inside you and teases your sweet spot slowly and tenderly. "Mmm, you like that my schatz? So fuckin' wet and I've barely touched you." You wriggle your hips, rolling yourself against his fingers. "I want m-more, König." You cry out. He smirks and tilts his head, assessing you. "More, huh? You want me to fuck you? Ich möchte hören, wie Du darum bettelst." (Let me hear you beg for it) Moving his fingers faster, practiced and swift from pulling triggers. Pleasure heightening and back arching as he hits your g-spot over and over again, soaking his digits and you wetter than you've been in your life. "I want you inside me!" You beg. König takes your nipple into his mouth and laughs when you whimper. "You're making my cock hurt." He pulls his fingers out of you and licks your juices from them, then chuckles at your blushed embarrassment. You're so smitten with him and he can't deny how much he loves it. "Your pleasure is mine, liebling. I'm going to fuck you to pieces." His voice is deeper now, husky with lust and his thick, hardened cock stretching out the crotch of his pants. König trails sloppy kisses down your leg, then licks at your trembling inner thigh before sinking his tongue inside your dripping core to taste you fully. "Such a sweet fucking cunt."

♡ König has a massive cock and knows it. The first time you saw it you were afraid it would be too much, you were so inexperienced and tight. He noticed your hushed astonishment and smirked with pride, grabbing your hand to guide it to his throbbing dick. You wrap your fingers around its silky skin and marbled veins and feel his warmth, your digits hardly touching around his girth. "You can take it, baby." He groans at your touch, and you bite your lip and stroke him just to elicit a second heavenly sound from him. "Ahhhh fuck, my schatz. Yeah, just like that." His praise makes you bolder, and you surprise the both of you by leaning in and taking his dick into your mouth, the hardness of his arousal lighting a fire between your legs. "Such a good fuckin' slut for me." He moans, gripping your hair. Precum drips from his soft pink tip as you twirl your tongue around his cock head. You look up into his dark eyes and meet his gaze, already peering down at you through his mask. "You're all mine." König growls, voice hoarse with pleasure as you deepthroat him. "I'm gonna ruin you."

♡ König refuses to cum until you do. Your loud, high moaning rings throughout the room, bed creaking and shuddering as he fills you up completely and utterly, cock stretching your tight cunt open, sticky juices dripping from you and onto the mattress. "Fuck, König!" You scream, ruined by him and more cockdrunk with every thrust. "You look so pretty when I'm inside you, my liebling." He groans, moving his dick inside you harder and moaning at your wet warmth. His tongue trails down your neck while his hands find your breasts and tease your perky pink nipples, and that pushes you over the edge. "I–i'm c-cumming König!!!" You writhe against him and moan into his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist as your body trembles with overwhelming pleasure, fingers gripping his massive biceps like a lifeline. König's eyes roll back into his head and his deep moans echo as he thrusts into you harder than ever before, losing control as he teeters over the edge of his own orgasm, filling your pussy up with spurts of white hot cum. "Fuck, such a dirty fuckin' girl for me." König groans as you ride out your high on his cock. "Milking me fuckin' dry."

♡ König cleans you both up with a damp washcloth after and holds your trembling body in his big arms while trailing kisses all over your face. He looks down at your little smile nervously and pinches your nose with a grin of his own. "Did I hurt you, liebling?" König asks you, concern in his eyes as he rubs your back gently. You melt into the heat of his muscled, scarred body and plant a kiss onto his chest, shaking your head. "No." You giggle and trail your hand down your abdomen, then watch his eyes widen with lust as you begin to touch yourself, fingers tracing your swollen clit. König laughs deeply and places his huge hand on top of yours, his dick hardening again. He leans down to kiss your pretty mouth and you moan softly against his lips, all embarrassment gone. "P-please König." You cry out, and he groans with need and bites your lip. "I-I want you inside me again."