#the distance she has to put between herself and what she has to do to become More...cries | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

OK ANOTHER IDEA

OK SO WE KNOW THAT ALASTOR IS A MAMAS BOY AND HAS AN AMAZING RELATIONSHIP WITH HER

SO WHAT IF ALASTOR HAD A FEM S/O BUT SHE HAS A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOM, ITS JUST SO EMOTIONALLY TOXIC (especially with reader being an older sibling)

reader never tells him though because alastors relationship with his mom is good and she doesn’t wanna make him feel bad whenever he talks about her and one day readers mom comes to the hotel and reader DREADS it and becomes snappy but readers mom wins everyone over (of course alastor too). So when reader explains that she doesn’t want her mom around alastor can’t understand why and reader feels betrayed its only later when readers mom shows her true colors towards reader. And reader of course bites back (or at least tries too)

So basically angst to fluff and SORRY IF THATS SO MUCH😭😭

👀 Mommy issues??? 👀

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Emotionally Abusive mother, Reader suffering, Reader gets grabbed a few times, Ambiguous ending for mama

Description: ☝️⬆️

When it comes to mothers, it's safe to say you and Alastor had very different experiences

His mother was full of warmth and kindness towards him, doing her best to build him up into a great man

She loved him greatly and it shows whenever he talks about her

But your mother?? Your mother saw you as fucking competition and always found ways to put you down, to make herself better than you

Well maybe she should be the one who was cooking the meals, getting your younger siblings off to school on time or making sure everyone had clean clothes

Just the thought of her made your stomach flip and your legs shake

She would put you down all your life while claiming it was so that you could be a great woman just like her, but not too great, you have to remember who the better woman is

Well now you're both in hell so-

You put as much distance between her and yourself as you could, living your afterlife without her influence

You even got yourself a handsome powerful overlord boyfriend and new friends to share your life with

Even though you're supposed to be in hell, you couldn't be happier

At least you were until your mother showed up at the hotel, her face full of faux worry and tears

"Oh my precious girl! This is where you've been hiding? I was so worried!!"

Before Charlie can even shut the door, your mother has already shoved her way inside and literally dug her claws into you, hugging you

It's all you can do not to throw up, smothered by her familiar scent and grip, hearing her voice again after all this time

"Now let Mommy take a look at you-oh!!! And here I was worried that you were starving! Good to know you've put some weight on those bones!"

And it's already starting-

And now she's crying and rocking you in her arms, cooing about how much she's missed you and how she's never letting you go again

Charlie and the others are just staring at the two of you, completely enraptured by your mother, like everyone always is

She loved being the center of attention

When you finally come to your senses you push her away and create some distance, disturbed by the worried looks everyone is giving her

"Mom, why are you here?"

Oh don't everyone look at you like you're the bad guy!! She's the one who's only here because she wants something!!

"Maybe I wouldn't have to come track you down if you would just visit your poor mother every once in a while...she never even calls me, you know!"

And now she's crying again, Charlie immediately going to comfort her while Vaggie gives you a dirty look

Fucking mommy issues much? Don't fall for this crap

"I don't want to visit you, so just leave-"

"Well now, who is this~?"

Alastor! Yes! He can make her leave! You turn to give your boyfriend a pleading look but your mother catches his attention first

"Oh don't worry about who I am.. just a poor lonely mother who came to see her daughter...but I guess I'll show myself out.."

Alastor doesn't have to guess who she's talking about, even in death you always looked like your mother

His smile gets surprisingly warm and soft, taking your mother's hand in his own in a disgusting display of affection that used to only be for you

"You're Y/N's mother? My my, I should've guessed! You must have so many stories of her from her life! I simply must insist that you say."

ALASTOR NO

You feel sick but nobody notices, your mother already soaking up their attention and winning their hearts

So you turn and leave the hotel, unable to stand being in her presence any longer, you don't miss the smug look she gives you on your way out

You spend all day trying to avoid going back to the hotel until you're sure your mother is gone

You're more than disappointed to find her drinking tea with Alastor, the two of them laughing, her placing her hand on top of his

She always used to try and go after your boyfriends and that hasn't changed either

She hasn't changed

"Oh darling~! We hadn't realized you left! Alastor and I were simply having a moment~"

Alastor lights up when he sees you, only to be visibly confused by your troubled expression

"Y/N! Your mother was just telling me about her life before you! She was quite a wildcard back then!"

Your mother is practically drooling over him, rubbing his hand and winking

"I'm still wild if you ever care to find out!"

You've had it

You tug your mother's hand off of Alastor, forcing her to stand up and look you in the eyes

"You need to leave! Right now!"

And here come the waterworks again

"Y/N..! Darling, what did I do wrong? I'm your mother please don't throw me out like this!"

You just start pushing her towards the door and you slam it shut behind her, sighing in relief

That is until you look at Alastor's face, his smile seeming strained

"Y/N! You can't just throw her out like that, not only is that bad manners but that's no way to treat the woman who raised you!"

Raised you? You raised yourself!!

"Alastor, you don't know what you're talking about so please just stay out of it. You don't know what she's like-"

You're trying to stay calm-

"She's your mother, it's not like she's some evil creature-"

"SHE'S IN HELL OF COURSE SHE'S EVIL-"

"So are you and I, my dear."

You try to put your foot down, tell him that you don't want her here but he's already opening the door for her and letting her back in

She looks so pleased with herself

He invites her to stay the night because of course he does, he would do it for his own mother so why not yours

You try not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry but your eyes are already hot and watery

"I-I'm going to bed..!"

Alastor calls for you, trying to resolve things then and there but the only response he gets is your door slamming shut

He goes to go after you but your mother stops him with a gentle hand to the shoulder

"Now now...let her cool off for a bit then I'll go make sure she's alright, a mother always knows how to cheer up her child~"

It feels like you spend hours crying in your bed, feeling so hurt that Alastor took her side over yours

Your mom isn't like his, she doesn't nurture, she just takes from you and bullies you

Later, just when you've about cried yourself to sleep, you hear the bedroom door open

"Alastor..?"

"Not a chance, pet."

Now what does she want

"Why are you even here?"

Suddenly she pounces on you, grabbing your wrists tightly, eyes wild with fury she must've been containing this whole time

You don't even know why she's so mad at you, you haven't seen her in years-

"You think you're better than me now, is that it? Now that you're on your own, living in some fancy hotel, got some powerful boytoy, hiding behind hell's princess?"

As a kid, she seemed so strong but now you easily rip out of her grasp and manage to create some distance between you two

"I'm not hiding behind anyone! I'm just trying to get away from you!"

"Oh no no no, that's not how this works! I am your mother! If I have to be miserable and live in filth then so do you!"

"Why are you even here!?"

"Because it's not fair! I deserve to be here! Not some ungrateful little bitch who just happened to fall out of me!"

She lunges at you and you try to dodge her but she manages to grab you by your hair, yanking you back

You're about to start swinging when Alastor is suddenly there, watching the two of you in bewilderment

Then that bewilderment melts away into understanding, then anger

The radio sounds in the room are suddenly deafening, your mother letting go of you so she can cover her ears

You take the chance to kick her away, watching as she tumbles and loses consciousness from the impact

Alastor kneels beside you but you flinch away from him, still feeling hurt

"Y/N...I'm so sorry..." He does look properly ashamed, his smile a little watery

"Why didn't you just tell me that she was like this..?"

How could you even begin to start?? That you didn't want to somehow sour his opinion of mothers by telling him about your own?

That you didn't want him to feel guilty for having a mother who loved him while you grew up having to be a mother to your siblings because your own mom had none to give??

It's just word vomit at this point, but Alastor simply gathers you into his arms, tutting as he checks your scalp and fixes your hair

When he gets to your wrists where your mother grabbed than his smile turns positively venomous, giving your mother a deadly look

"What do you want me to do with her? Anything you ask..."

You're a little irritated that he brought her up, having been too relaxed by the feeling of his lips against your palm

"I just want her out of here..."

And that's all it takes, Alastor calls for Niffty and has her take out the trash, her scuttling out gleefully while dragging your mother

Niffty doesn't even care, she's just happy to have a new toy

You didn't realize how stressed out you were until it was just the two of you, Alastor rubbing your back soothingly

You don't know when you fall asleep but when you wake up Alastor is kissing the side of your face, looking as apologetic as he can be

You manage to convince him to apologize in morning snuggles and by the time you two come downstairs everyone else is awake

"Where is Y/N's mom?"

Not Niffty giggling and running out of the room

Alastor simply shakes his head and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you closer

"She is gone and won't ever be visiting again, I would like to ask that nobody brings her up again~"

Something about the way he says it manages to shut everyone up

Alastor takes you out to eat your favorite breakfast and spends the day spoiling you

He doesn't bring up the events of last night until the two of you are in bed, entangled in each other's arms

"You didn't ruin my opinion of mothers, you know."

"I didn't?"

"No, in fact, it sounds like you were quite the mother back in your day~"

Not his hand rubbing your belly

OH MAMA THIS ONE TOOK ALL DAY! I hope you liked it!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

2K notes · View notes

ellieslittlewh0re · 2 months

Text

HELP PALESTINE dono links, educate yourself, how to help

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝒇𝒊𝒏.

₊˚ପ⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝖮𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖱𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖶𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝖠𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

₊˚ପ⊹ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

₊˚ପ⊹ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉 (𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝖽-𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝟥𝟢'𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝟣𝟫-𝟤𝟤 𝗂𝗌𝗁) 𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒, 𝗌𝗎𝖻 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾 (𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀) 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾, 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄/𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝖻𝖼 𝗂𝖽𝖼 𝗅𝗈𝗅

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟣 - 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟤 - 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟥

Another couple of weeks came and went.

Abby still kept her distance, and you did what you were hired to do.

The first weekend after the kiss was painfully, and irrevocably delicate. With her son being away at his dad’s, and Abby not being able to hide away at work, there was no distractions, which only made it worse.

You two would dance around each other, trying your best to look the other way when passing each other in the halls or in the kitchen, but her eyes would linger when you weren’t looking.

It felt like you were tormenting her with your short skirts and your sheer, tight-fitting tops.

How could she NOT look?

She started to feel like she deserved it for leaving you on the bed that day, all breathless, and heavy eyelids, weighed down by lust.

Abby thought she was doing it for the right reasons, you know… not mixing work with play, but over the past few days, she realized it wasn’t that at all.

She wanted to be prepared.

So while you were taking care of her son, feeding him, bathing him, and teaching him how to spell his own fucking name, she was out buying a strap to fuck you with.

Whether she was going to go through with it or not, she wasn’t sure.

But her time to decide was running out. It was the weekend again, the house quiet and clean, which means you weren’t busy, and neither was she.

It was one of those evenings where you could hear the crickets chirping from the tree line that surrounded the house, fireplace lit and dim.

You were sitting on the bed of your room, which became your more preferred hanging out spot since the kiss, not wanting to face the possibility of a more straightforward rejection from Abby.

And Abby was in the kitchen, two empty glasses in front of her, and her palms face down in the counter.

This is so stupid, she kept telling herself, her eyes glancing between the glasses and the bottle of liquor.

She poured some into one, and brought the rim to her lips, swallowing all of it with the tilt of her head.

Has it really come down to needing liquid courage to face you? Yes. Yes it has, but not because she was scared or nervous. She had a good thing going with you here, and didn’t want to scare you off or taint the image of her you had in your head.

She wanted to live up to your expectations.

For Abby, even if things didn’t go in that direction tonight, and instead became more of a peace offering to be in your good graces again, the anxiety felt worth it.

So, she poured more into her glass, and put it back, but not before getting out a more palatable alcohol from the cabinet, and rummaging through her fridge for a juice to mix it with.

She eyeballed as she poured a couple of shots into the empty glass and filled the rest with more pleasurable-tasting liquid, taking a deep breath as she grabbed the glasses from the counter and made her way to your room.

She tapped on the slightly opened door with the back of her knuckle, and waited for your response before pushing the door the rest of the way open.

“Hey,” She smiled, meeting your eyes, to which you happily greeted her back, closing the book you were previously reading and setting it down.

Her eyes widened, then furrowed, scanning her eyes down your body at the tank top, and shorts you were wearing.

“Shit, were you about to go to bed? I’m sorry.” Abby, once again, felt dumb. Of fucking course you were. It’s late, and she suddenly felt like she was intruding your space, momentarily forgetting that it was her fucking house, and you’re no different than a tenant.

But she never thought about it that way, at least, not since she first saw you.

“Wha-?” You looked down, and crossed your arms over your chest to hide whatever modesty you had left, “No, no…. It’s okay. I wasn’t.”

Good.

You scooted to the end of the bed, dropping your arm because hell, you wanted her to see.

You watched her eyes for a falter, a hint, anything, but they maintained contact with yours. You didn’t make it easy for her though, wearing clothes that left little to the imagination but covered just enough to have her feening, imagination running wild at the idea of undeniable access.

Abby cleared her throat, and extended her arm, “Made you something.”

You take the glass from her hand, giving her a confused smirk, and take a sip.

She sat down beside you a safe distance, but close enough that you could smell the pine aroma of her body soap.

“Better?” She asked, keeping the conversation light, and steering away of anything that might drive you away.

But you weren’t dumb, you knew she was only here to “clear the air”, but a part of you still held onto the hope she changed her mind.

“Much better.”

You continued to sip to fill the empty spaces between each nervous glance and chuckle, letting the alcohol warm you from the inside out, and Abby did the same.

Abby’s thumb twirled around the rim of her glass, looking down at the rippling surface before looking back up, “I’m sorry about the other day.” She spoke softly, and genuinely, her bottom lip pouting more prominently than it usually did.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, it’s just-“ She paused, looking forward, and exhaled a deep breath, “You’re young. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

This caught you off guard, but it made perfect sense. Abby has always been respectful and cautious about the topic, but you also felt relief that it wasn’t as one-sided as you originally thought.

You weren’t being delusional after all.

The confirmation of her attraction towards you gave you a new sense of confidence. “How do you know I’m not the one taking advantage of you?” You asked in a hushed voice, sweet, crystallized sugar on your tongue as you leaned in, and shit-

Abby liked to think she had more of a backbone- a moral compass to help resist her temptations, but that flew out the window as soon as you did this.

Abbys eyes darkened, flickering between your parted lips before meeting your gaze, perhaps to get the go ahead signal from you but your lips were already on hers, which was good enough for her.

You’re pushed back slightly and let Abby’s tongue take control, her hand on your thigh and thumb vanishing under the hem of your shorts, squeezing the fat dangerously close to your cunt.

Her hand moved to your face, cradling the space between your cheekbone and neck, pulling you into her before breaking away, “Let’s move this to my room, yeah?” She breathed, her voice excreting an excitement that she tried hard to withhold, but it still found a way to remain firm like it wasn’t a question at all.

And all you could do was nod, head already fuzzy, and a feeling of sticky discomfort between your thighs.

Abby led you to her room, her hand in yours and your smaller strides following closely behind her larger ones.

You’re sat on the edge of the bed, and she kneels before you, never breaking eye contact. And honestly, you couldn’t look away even if the embarrassment and nauseating flutter in your stomach wanted to, being so captivated and eager to comply to her every demand.

Her hand followed the curve of your calf down before coming back up, and she rubbed her palms over the soft plush of your thighs, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

Her lips grazed the inside of your knee, placing a gentle kiss, “Can I taste you?” She asked, so sweet that it could’ve been mistaken as asking to borrow a cup of sugar, but the reaction it had on your body (and your pussy) said otherwise.

An uncontrollable squeak emitted from your throat,

“Y-yes…”

Her hands squeezed the tops of your thighs, molding your flesh between calloused fingers before focusing on your waistband.

You lifted your ass as she tugged, pulling the pants down the length of your legs and past your ankles and dropping them to the floor.

“Oh my god-“ She groaned, marveling at the sight of your pretty pink panties, now made see-through with your own arousal, “All this from a few kisses? You’re dirtier than I thought.” She sneered, moving closer. And how hypocritical of her to say that when she’s not much better off at this point.

“Abby… please.” You whined, lifting your hips from the mattress in an attempt to find some relief.

Abby was also impatient, and as much as she wanted to take her time, treat you right, she also just simply wanted to please you.

She looped her finger behind the crotch of your panties and pulled it away from your cunt. You sucked in a sharp breath, sinking your weight back on your elbows, and squeezed the sheets between your fingers as she did this. The cold air hitting the new skin sends a chill across your limbs.

Something happened inside of Abby’s body. It’s one thing to see it, but to feel it?? Feeling the effect she had on your body- how wet you were, and how she could practically feel you try to suck her in even though she barely made it past the first knuckle… It was primal. A inextinguishable fire that kept burning brighter with each passing breath.

Your body is yanked down, ass pulled to the edge of the bed, and your thighs are thrown over her shoulders, her arms locking in around them.

You yelped at the sudden difference, looking down at her with a worried expression, but your head immediately falls back as her mouth encapsulates your clothed pussy.

You moaned, eyes disappearing into the back of your head.

She sucked, hallowing her cheeks around your bundle of nerves, and used her tongue to soak you through your panties with her spit.

Once again, she pulled the fabric down, tightening it flush with your cunt, and licked you through the ribbed cotton, letting your flavor seep into her mouth through the barrier.

But her patience was thinning. She needed to taste you properly, and she needed her hands free so she could hold your wriggling legs in place.

“I’m sorry” Was all she said, and you didn’t even have time to process it before you felt a harsh yank against your hips and the sound of fibers tearing apart.

Inhale, exhale.

Your wines hoarse, mouth dry. Crescent-shaped indents carved into Abby’s forearms and hands from your nails that were desperately grabbing at her- overstimulated and clit throbbing after the third orgasm of the night.

And she hasn’t even fingered you yet.

Her mouth detaches, and you sigh a breath of relief, but even with her absence, an uncomfortable buzzing still lingered.

She came up, placing both hands on the beside your face, and kissed you, slipping her tongue inside to give you a taste of yourself still on her tongue.

She started kissing you down your neck and chest, one of her hands sliding underneath your shirt, “Can you handle more?” She asked, lips grazing the surface of skin above your collarbone.

Inhale, exhale.

“Y-yes.” You nodded, tightening your legs around her hips, pulling her in because even though you were ran dry, you still craved the pressure of her inside.

She connected her lips with yours, and her hand placed itself around your jaw, cradling it. It was slow, patient, but also overpowering, made you feel even smaller somehow.

She pulled away, her lips still ghosting over yours, “Good girl.”

She gets up and turns away, disappearing behind the bathroom door, and leaves it open a few inches before re-entering a short time later, except nothing could have prepared you for this.

Inhale, exhale.

Shiny leather straps hugged her hips, dipping around the backside of the boxers and accentuating her ass, accompanied by the black silicone standing between her legs, big enough that it suited her size, almost seeming natural on her.

Your cunt clenches, and your thighs rub together as she approached.

Inhale, exhale.

She climbed on top, and your legs immediately open for her, welcoming her between them, and wrapping around her backside.

She was already inside, sinking herself in a couple of centimeters at a time and pausing in between to give you time to adjust to the girth.

Inhale, exhale.

You whined, nails etching across her back, and she was quick to soothe you with another kiss, “We shouldn’t do this.” She breathed between pecks but made zero attempts to stop it- in fact, she snapped her hips forward, filling you up with the last of her until the base was flush with your cunt.

Skin slapping against skin, beads of sweat tracing the edges of Abby’s forehead, and both of your legs hogtied together by her arm, holding them against her body, your feet dangling in the air.

Your ass wasn’t even on the bed at this point since she was quite literally holding you up, instead using her strength and size to her advantage to get the perfect angle inside of you, using you like you were her own little fuck doll.

It was rough, tender, but rough.

She’d check in on you, chanting little praises like how you were doing such a good job, but she’d also spew out a symphony of possessive remarks.

“Whose pussy does this belong to, hm?” And you’d muster the very little strength you had, mumbling exactly what she wanted to hear, your eyes rolling to the back of your fucking brain.

“That’s right… s’mine.” She’d grunt, picking up her pace, and slamming her hips into the back of your thighs, her strap bulging against the surface of your tummy.

“A-Abby…” You whimpered, but it hardly sounded like anything at all. You reached her hand that was squeezing you-holding you by the thigh, using it like a fucking handle to drill her cock into you.

“Abby..” you said again, trying to warn her of your impending orgasm, but she didn’t hear you, or she was just ignoring you because she doesn’t slow down, not even for a second.

Your eyes roll back before squeezing shut, limbs stiffening, “fuck, fuck, fu- ohmygod“ The plush of your bottom lip stung, edges of your teeth sinking into it before your jaw slacks. Your body trembles, hips bucking, but Abby still just holds you there and only pauses inside of you when your orgasm visualizes itself- a overflow of milky, viscous elixir seeping down the length of her strap.

She pulls out, dropping your legs to the mattress, and she’s panting heavily, the highs of her cheeks glistening against the warm glow of the lamp.

She’s hovering over you, kissing your cheek, and along your jaw.

She was being so, SO sweet, particularly because she felt bad for essentially bringing you to tears, but also because she was trying to make up for what she’s about to do next.

Her hands slip between the bed and your back, pulling you from it and lifting you up. Your legs are wrapped around her waist when your back hits a solid surface- the wall.

“Abby…” Abby you say, confused and still delirious, “what are you-?”

“Just one more… please. I know you can do it.” She was also delirious, words rushed and slightly slurred- trance-like, and dead set on being inside of you just to see how fucking dumb you get all over again.

It was like a drug to her, terrified of the consequences, the what-ifs, but once she tried it, she knew from then on she’d always crave more.

Now, she didn’t fucking care about the consequences.

This time, you initiated the kiss, and moan as her hands squeeze the fat of your ass, fingerprints breaking the blood vessels across your skin.

She pulls away, a loose strand of straight, golden hair blowing with her jagged breaths, “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

You nod, bitting down on your bottom lip as she lifted you higher, and angled herself below your cunt.

You cling to her neck as you’re lowered onto her cock, tears brewing at the corners of your eyes, and using her shoulder to mute yourself from crying out.

“Hey, hey… I got you“ She cooed, tilting her head so her lips were aligned with your ear, “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Just relax.”

Inhale, exhale.

She lowers you some more, hands gripping the underside of your thighs, and veins straining in her hands from the sheer amount of effort she was using to keep you steady.

You lock eyes with her, a pull between the center of your brows, and lips glossy with spit. You stretch around her, walls expanding to her size mixed with the new angle that proved to hit even deeper than before, which says a lot.

“That’s it… good girl.” The corner of her lips tug into an almost smirk, faint enough to miss it if you weren’t 5 inches from her face.

She started slow, scared to hurt you, and letting you grind your hips with her deep inside, but then she started to manually move you herself, lifting you and then guiding your hips as they came back down.

The pain was blinding, and casted white in the peripheral of your eyes. Your cheek slid across Abby’s shoulder, dampened by your tears, and that’s when she sped up.

You let out a cry, and your head goes back, slamming against the wall, but within seconds the pain lessens, instead being replaced by indescribable pleasure.

Abbys breathing heavily, her head resting in the crook of your neck, and yours hands interlocking behind her head.

It was so intimate, so vulnerable, and unlike anything either you have ever experienced in past relationships.

“Abby… I’m gonna- mmhm… gonna cum.” Your voice trembled, a rasp forming in your throat from the events that have transpired over the past three hours.

Sweat trickled between your tits, and strands of Abby’s hair stuck to her forehead in what seemed like a purposeful manner- swirled, and wave-like in design.

“I got you, I got you…” She said, her voice trailing off, becoming too focused on the stakes at hand.

See, Abby was scared of this night ending. Maybe it started as a forbidden crush in the beginning, but now?? With your eyes puffy, lashes wet and clumping together, and your pretty lips hugging her cock, she was no doubt in love.

You sing her name, pleading for her lips, and she immediately complied, kissing you as she both thrusted her hips into you, and moved your body up and down on her strap, surely bruising you for days to come.

As you come down from your orgasm, you loosen your grip on her, limbs feeling like jell-o, and she carefully lays you back down in the bed, leaving you for a moment to fetch a damp rag.

She’d be so gentle cleaning you up and leaving kisses across your chest and shoulders like her touch could reverse the deepening of the crimson splotches she left all over your body.

She’d also dress you, putting you in one of her t-shirts as soon as the opportunity comes because it’s something she has been thinking about for weeks at this point, not only the size difference between you two exciting her but also the fact that you’re wearing her clothes, which only makes her fantasy of you being her little wife feel that much more real.

When she’d determine you were sufficiently taken care of, she’d get in bed with you, pulling you into her arms with your back against your chest.

You hummed, a weak smile on your face and closed eyelids, falling into one of the best sleeps of your life.

Abby, however, didn’t.

Yes, she was exhausted, but all night as she held you, she couldn’t stop thinking about how the morning would materialize and how you’d react when she told you that she loved you.

𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ೃ⁀➷ @aouiaa @macaroni676 @sheluvslilith @sapphicsuperstar444 @lmaoo-spiderman @williamsangel @falloutboy-lover @atyourmerci @mskbitch @r3starttt

1K notes · View notes

surftrips · 3 months

Text

SHAPESHIFT | CLARISSE LA RUE

pairing: clarisse la rue x female!reader

summary: clarisse wonders if you know just how much she likes you.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is the first part of a two part series i'm writing based on jenna doe's songs: shapeshift + pink slips. this is from clarisse's pov and the second one is from readers' :) lmk if you want to be tagged in part 2 <3

i. i think you have a type, and it's not me

Clarisse has been watching you from the second you arrived at camp. Since you spent every day doing more or less the same thing, she was able to pick up on your routine pretty fast. Two sugars in your coffee every morning. A walk around the lake in the afternoon. Archery practice before the sunset.

She felt weird going to practices at the same time as you, but she couldn’t help herself. Whenever she got a chance to sneak away from her siblings in the Ares cabin, she always found herself back in your presence. However, the thought to approach you like a normal person had never crossed her mind. Clarisse is the kind of person that needs to be in control, and talking to you one-on-one would mean letting her inhibitions take over, so she always made sure to keep her distance.

Once or twice, Clarisse had seen you on dates with another camper. At first, she thought you were just having a picnic with the girl from Aphrodite, until the two of you began holding hands. The next day, Clarisse saw you in the other girl’s sweater, which made her so sick she avoided you for an entire week.

The Aphrodite girl (her name, Clarisse later found out, was Stacy) began showing up with you more often. Stacy wore bows in her hair and pearl necklaces, whereas Clarisse’s mascara was always smudged and accessories that didn’t double as weapons felt wrong on her. For the first time, Clarisse wondered why she couldn’t just be like all the other girls. Or at least, a girl you would pay attention to.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Clarisse tried to make her penchant for you as obvious as possible, while actively hiding it from the rest of camp. This proved to be difficult because at the same time, she also didn’t want to get too close to you because, well— what would she even say to you?

Her flirting consisted of winking at you during Capture the Flag or from across the dining hall. She had an ongoing list of nicknames of what to call you when no one else was around, but those moments were few and far between. Once, she even went as far as brushing away a stray piece of hair that had fallen on your face. There seemed to be nothing left for her to do except put bows in her hair or maybe paint her nails, and the thought of doing either of those things made her almost as sick as seeing you and Stacy together.

Between her and the Aphrodite girl, she knew which girl you would choose. Had chosen.

ii. mold me how you want me to be

Still, that was not going to stop Clarisse. She had never backed down from a fight before, and this was no different. Even if Stacy didn’t know it, she had become Clarisse’s number one enemy, even more so than that Percy Jackson kid that had recently shown up at camp. It just wasn’t fair that she had been watching you for so long and here comes Aphrodite’s daughter out of nowhere to sweep you off your feet.

Since Clarisse knew your routine by heart, she devised a plan to get you alone. She decided that she would finally make a move, and then you could pick for yourself who you wanted to be with. Easy enough, right?

At night, Clarisse lay awake in bed thinking about you, Stacy, then you and Stacy together. Though she didn’t want to go there, her brain wondered what the two of you were doing at that very moment. Her thoughts ranged from tame, to slightly more unhinged. Like, were you lying underneath the stars on your picnic blanket? Or was Stacy doing your makeup as she straddled your lap?

Clarisse didn’t pray often, but ever since she met you, she had taken to silently wishing you would acknowledge her. Each time she saw you with your arms wrapped around Stacy, she yearned to know what that would feel like. Not that she thought you would come near her with a ten-foot pole. Stacy is sweet, like bubblegum or strawberries from the fields, and Clarisse is the opposite. If you tasted her, she might make your gums bleed.

Before you, she was never the kind of girl to care about her appearance. Gods, she was the daughter of Ares, they weren’t known for their beauty but their strength and power and when it came to those categories, Clarisse knew that she had Stacy beat.

And yet, Clarisse would change just about anything about herself if it would make you like her more. In your hands, she would turn into putty, moldable clay to take the shape of your ideal lover. Hell, she would change her name if she thought you didn’t like the sound of it.

iii. kill anyone if you ask me to

A few weeks later, the Ares cabin and yours happened to be on the same team for Capture the Flag. It was the closest Clarisse had been to you ever since you began dating Stacy. The proximity to you was killing her, but she had to stay focused—on winning the game and your heart.

Putting aside her wandering thoughts, Clarisse barked out instructions to the campers. When she got to your cabin, she assigned you and your half-siblings to be the second line of defense for the flag. Clarisse figured this way, she could keep you out of harm’s way. Also, this was her one chance to talk to you without Stacy hanging off your body and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass.

After the first conch blew, Clarisse went on high-alert mode. Her team had lost the last game to Luke and Annabeth’s team, but she was not going to accept defeat this time. Her eyes darted back and forth between blind spots in the forest and you and the flag.

As she absent-mindedly waved her new spear around, Clarisse heard soft footsteps behind her. She whipped her head around with her weapon aimed in the air, preparing to fight whoever had approached her.

“Shit, Y/N, you scared me.” It was just you. Wait– it was you.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to,” you responded, your hands in front of you.

Clarisse almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Did someone poison her earlier and she was hallucinating right now? Okay, keep it cool.

“Is something wrong?” Clarisse managed to ask after composing herself, realizing that you had moved away from your post.

“Uh, no. I- um… heard about what happened to your spear last week, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you smiled nervously.

“Why?”

“Why…. am I sorry?”

Clarisse wanted to slap her hand across her forehead. Why did she say that? She meant to ask why are you talking to me right now? What did I do to deserve this? But she didn’t know how to word that in a way that wouldn't make you think she was crazy.

When she didn’t respond, you began backing away. “Look, I’m sorry if this is a sensitive topic. I just felt bad, is all.”

“No!” Clarisse began panicking. “I didn’t mean it like that- just, why are you talking to me now? We’ve never had a real conversation before.”

“Does it matter?” She expected you to be confused, but the look at your face seemed more amused than anything.

“No, I guess not,” Clarisse couldn’t help but smile. Gods, why was she so awkward? Anyone else, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but in the last few minutes, her mouth had gone dry and her legs felt as though they would give out at any second.

“Great,” you beamed in return. Clarisse’s eyes catch yours and the two of you stare at each other in content for a minute. Or at least, you are. Clarisse is convinced an Aphrodite kid has changed her pupils to hearts. “I haven’t seen you around lately,” you broke the silence.

“What do you mean? I’m always around,” Clarisse stammered for an excuse.

“Well, sure. It’s a small camp.” You seemed to be enjoying seeing Clarisse fumble for words. “But I used to see you all the time. At breakfast and archery.”

Clarisse ignored the implications of your comment. “Oh, I guess we just started going at different times then. You know you’re always with Stacy now—”

At the mention of your girlfriend’s name, your face contorted into something strange and unfamiliar to Clarisse. But before she could figure it out, a noise behind you caused the two of you to turn around abruptly.

“Y/N, watch out!” Clarisse shouted at you, but it was too late. Someone had dragged you backwards, knocking your weapon out of your hand. You struggled to free yourself, but whoever was holding you had revealed a dagger and you didn’t want to risk accidentally cutting yourself.

“If you know what’s best for yourself, let her go.” Clarisse breathed furiously, pausing between the last three words in her sentence. You couldn’t see who was restraining you, but you could feel their heart rate quicken at the sight of Clarisse’s spear getting dangerously close.

“And what if I don’t?” they responded. You knew that they were just putting on a front, you could feel their chest heaving up and down on your back. Clarisse seemed to know this too, she’s always been able to sense fear in people— mostly because she is the one that invokes it.

“I don’t think you want to find out,” she grinned, a wicked smile on her face. The next second, her spear had jabbed into the camper’s side, causing them to let go of their hold on you. You dropped to the ground.

“Shit!” the camper swore, rubbing their ribcage. “You’re not supposed to actually hurt me!” You could see their face now, one of Hermes' kids you’ve seen hanging around Luke.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” Clarisse laughed. “Besides, the spearhead is blunt. You’ll be fine, drama queen.”

The kid scrambled away, leaving behind the dagger they had previously threatened you with. Clarisse ran over, instinctively putting her hands on your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You began to stand up, but Clarisse pushed you back down.

“Clar, come on, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Let me just get a look at you,” she insisted, ignoring the way your nickname for her made something in her stomach flip over. You relented, knowing it was useless to argue with her. You allow her to scan your body for any signs of harm. Clarisse took her time, unsure of when the next time she would be this close to you again. Most of your body was covered by your armor or clothes, so her eyes drifted toward your exposed arms and the area where the kid had touched you.

Hesitantly, she reached for the side of your stomach. “Are you sore? Did they leave a mark?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, lifting up the hem of your shirt to see. You heard Clarisse’s breath hitch. “What? What’s wrong?” You were fully sat up now.

“N-nothing!” Color rushed into Clarisse’s cheeks, causing her to turn her head away suddenly.

You giggled, her reaction not going unnoticed. “Thanks for saving me, tough girl.”

“Of course.” Clarisse pulled you up on your feet. “Anything for you, pretty girl.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could register it. The two of you stared at each other again, it seemed as though eye contact was your main form of communication at the moment. And right now, Clarisse’s eyes were sparkling with something familiar, almost like how Stacy looks at you—

“Oh my god, babe! Are you okay?” Speaking of the devil, Clarisse rolled her eyes at the sight of your girlfriend running up.

“Stacy! How’d you know something was wrong?” You were pulled into a stifling hug, the air thick with floral perfume.

“Silly girl, I am the daughter of Aphrodite. I have a heightened sense for these things,” Stacy pulled her arms away and gave you a once-over, presumably to check for injuries, before smothering you with kisses.

Clarisse coughed, once, and then again a little louder. “Oh!” Stacy turned toward her. “Clarisse, I didn’t see you there.”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for her,” you said, sensing Clarisse’s uneasiness.

Now, Stacy’s face contorted into something strange. Shamelessly, Clarisse took pride in being the cause of it.

“Well, thank you,” she responded tersely. “Come on, let’s get one of the Apollo kids to look at you.” Stacy pushed you away before you could protest. You offered Clarisse a weak smile before turning around.

Clarisse sighed, maybe if she had been a daughter of Aphrodite, she could shapeshift into someone you walked away with— not from.

That night, she prayed to Ares for the first time in months.

#WHERE ARE ALL MY SAPPHICS #WOMEN LOVERS #WARNING: YEARNING #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #clarisse la rue imagine #pjo x you #clarisse la rue x you

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

Hey! I LOVE the comic you posted of the reader going to a club pre-relationship! I was wondering if you could write a part 2 to that of all of them going to a club together. With some jealousy, like when the reader goes to the bathroom on her way back she is getting flirted with by a random guy and the marauders reaction. Feel free to ignore

(Also I adore you comic that make my day every time I have re-read all of them at least 3 times!)

Hi lovely, thank you so much ! This took me forever to get to sorry, hope you enjoy it <3

part 1

cw: alcohol, unwanted/nonconsensual touch

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Your shriek cuts through the loud music, and you turn to Remus with an open-mouthed grin.

“This is my favorite song!” you shout.

He laughs. In the past half hour, four songs have been your favorite. “Yeah?” he asks.

You nod happily, throwing your hands above your head as you spin. You’re tipsy twirly, surprisingly sprightly considering you’ve downed enough shots to get Remus hammered, and he’s got several inches on you and has been drinking since he was thirteen.

Sirius is in a similar state. Remus and James have been steering the two of you around for most of the night, but now James has put himself in charge of crisis prevention, playing goalie between either of you and the bar.

“Oh be fun, Prongsie,” Sirius wheedles after getting spun around by the shoulders for the upteenth time. “I know you can be fun.”

“I am fun,” James agrees. “I have my most fun when I’m not cleaning up your vomit. Go dance with y/n.”

You’re game for this plan, giving Sirius an enticing smile and moving your hips to the music in a way that makes Remus’ mouth go completely dry. He knows he’s not the only person in this club who’s noticed, but thankfully the little circle the four of you have made in the dance floor stays clear of intruders. Thus far, your prediction has proved correct; no other men have come up to you with your roommates around. He’s not particularly distraught about it.

You seem oblivious to your own allure, laughing when Sirius hurries toward you like a called puppy. You take his hands, letting him twirl you around and then holding your arms up to twirl him in return, and at the chorus, you both jump around so that your hair flies all about. Your laughter is loud and sparkling. Remus sips his drink, entranced.

There are two more favorite songs before you careen towards him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He hastily grips you by the elbow, wary of a fall, but you seem to have done this intentionally. You beam up at him, your smile lopsided and far less shy than anything he’s ever seen from you.

“M’gonna go to the toilet,” you tell him, one word leading into the next like they’ve been sloppily tied together with string.

“Oh, okay.” Of its own volition, Remus’ hand coasts up the back of your upper arm, then down to your elbow again. “Do you think you’re gonna be sick, honey?”

Your face screws up as if this is taboo to mention. “What? No.” You make a funny pffting sound. “I’m miles off from that, I’m fantastic, it’s just,” you lower your voice, expression turning grave, “I think it’s time to break the seal,” you tell him meaningfully.

This time it’s entirely intentional, but he also can’t help it. You’re just too cute. Remus sets his hand on the top of your head affectionately, grinning at you. “Alright, love, sounds good.” He looks around for the women’s bathroom, locating it a short distance away. “Want one of us to go with and wait outside for you?” It’s not like he can’t see it from here, but a girl as intoxicated as you probably shouldn’t be going anywhere by herself.

“No, no, I’ve got it,” you say, patting his chest lightly. “Back soon.”

It’s like you’ve disappeared into a mist, the way you fade into the crowd so quickly. It takes Remus a moment to spot the top of your head moving towards the bathroom. You turn around just before you go in, giving him a dazzling smile paired with a dorky thumbs-up.

“Where’d she go?” James asks, holding his drink aloft while Sirius grabs for it. “And what has made you smile like that, Moony?”

Remus makes a dismissive sound, but he feels his face heat as he takes a long sip of his own drink. James’ grin widens.

“Ooh,” Sirius catches on. “What’d she say to you?”

“Nothing. She’s gone to the toilet.”

Sirius’ kohl-rimmed eyes bulge, and James laughs, following his train of thought immediately. “Did she ask you to follow her? I didn’t think that was your style, you rake.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “You’re depraved.”

It’s not long before you reappear, catching Remus’ eye on your way out of the bathroom like you knew he’d be looking. You give him another of those heart-stuttering smiles and head his way, weaving your way through the crowd with a drunken expertise.

A happy glow of anticipation starts up in his chest, but you’re intercepted on the way. Another head, taller, steps in front of you, blocking Remus’ view. He cranes his neck, but he can’t see you.

He must make some sound or simply be emanating discontent, because James is back at his side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s talking to her. I can’t see her anymore.” He sounds ridiculous, like an overprotective douche, but he can’t imagine one can be too cautious when a drunk girl is surrounded by guys in a place like this. Remus is being purely practical.

“Let’s go get her.” James is on board immediately, taking Sirius by the elbow and beginning to bulldoze his way through the crowd. Sirius grabs Remus’ hand just before the gap closes behind them, dragging him along.

Remus hears you before he sees you.

“Really, I appreciate it, but I’m not looking for anything.” Your voice sounds slightly tight, and Remus knows you well enough to tell by the sound of it that you’re giving whoever you’re talking to one of your big, fake smiles.

A man’s voice says, low and sure, “You don’t mean that—” and that’s as far as he gets, because you interrupt to exclaim, with no small amount of relief, “My friends!”

“Hi, sweetheart,” James says, and you’re right in front of them. You’ve cleaned up your makeup in the bathroom, the eyeliner that had transferred sweatily under your eyes now pristine again, and your smile is indeed giant and thin-lipped as you look between them and the man in front of you, subtly flaring your eyes. He reads the look clearly: Help, please!

Remus looks you over. The man has his hands on your hips and one of yours is around his wrist, a cautious touch. Sirius takes care of that quickly, wrapping his forefinger and thumb around the wrist closest to him and removing it like it’s a piece of trash he found on the street.

“Do you two know each other?” Remus asks. Without permission, his voice comes out gruff and accusatory.

“No,” you say speedily, taking a step towards Sirius. Towards them. “I was just on my way back to you guys, actually.”

“We were talking.” The man looks between the three of them scrutinously, like they’re threats. Remus doesn’t hate the thought of being a threat to this guy.

“Sounded like you were done talking, mate.” James smiles easily. You’d have to really know him to hear the sharpness in his tone.

Sirius snakes an arm around your waist, but you don’t shy from the bold touch. In fact, you lean into him, your smile slowly beginning to resemble the genuine article. “Wanna get another drink, baby?” Sirius asks you, gaze salacious.

“Mhm.” You bob your head eagerly, and he leads you off, James and Remus following. “Thanks for the help,” you tell them as soon as you’re away. “He didn’t, like, do anything, but it was a bit intimidating.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James replies, expression going a bit stormy now that he’s done feigning lightness. “And I wouldn’t say he didn’t do anything, he shouldn’t have put his hands on you like that.”

“It’s whatever,” you wave it off so easily Remus’ heart gives a little throb. “What’re we drinking?”

“Oh, that was a ploy,” Remus says. “We’re done drinking, remember?”

You pout, and Sirius hugs your side sympathetically (entirely for your benefit, Remus is certain). “You mean we’re done,” he sneers. “You and Prongs get to have however much you want. Who made you king of the beer?”

“I think you did, actually,” Remus says thoughtfully. “At Mary’s New Year’s party, remember?”

Sirius sniffs, presumably because he does not.

891 notes · View notes

goldsbitch · 17 days

Text

Past lives

Charles Leclerc is opening an ice-cream shop...And nobody knows why.

romantic, soulmate au, one shot, short

"Past lives couldn't ever hold me down Lost love is sweeter when it's finally found I've got the strangest feeling This isn't our first time around" - Past Lives, Børns

It's the little things that resonate for no apparent reason.

The fact he would always lean towards a perfume with bergamot undertones - because in his past life, the love of his love was obsessed with bergamot tea.

The fact she would have the windows open at any possible occasion - because in her past, she and the love of her life lived in a small house at the top of a windy hill.

The fact he hated alcohol, because in one their lifetimes, the love of his life drowned her sorrows a little too often and lost herself in it.

The fact she could not watch war time movies, because in one of their past lives he died tragically, and a little too early for them to build a proper life together.

They did not get to meet in each life. But when they did, it was one for the history books. Not the ones about grandiose, history changing events, but the little sweet ones, usually to be found at the back of the antique bookstores. The mundane miracles that are hard to describe to the unlucky ones, who do not get to experience them. Some of them end up with a happy end, some of them with the biggest life lessons human soul can swallow.

It's the strange feeling of "I belong here" or "I think this will taste good". Why? Because you had seen it in the past, because you had been there in a different life time.

Fate plays a funny little game. Has one and their soulmate born just in time for them to be able to find each other, but likes to put obstacles in between. Distance, social barriers, conflicting dreams.

This kind of love leaves traces around the history. Songs, poems, buildings and initials carved into stones and benches. Wedding rings passed on in families and eventually sold once everyone has forgotten. Portraits of unknown faces and photos found at the bottom of old wardrobes. The ancient piping in an old house that still works because he built it for her to live in.

The soul keeps a memory, unreachable to the simple mind of the body, as it travelled from one lifetime to another.

That's how she found herself staring at a random, actually not that important, painting hung in a gallery exhibition dedicated to landscapes from the romantic era. She wasn't exactly a galleries type of person, but a girls trip to Paris had to include something more than parties and shopping. She stood there for good five minutes, totally mesmerised by a painting that did not particularly stood out from the rest. Little did she know that the silhouette standing in the field was one of her past self and that the painting had been done by her soulmate in one of their luckier past lives. It was like she could smell the summer weeds growing, hear the ground under her feet and understood what the author wanted to capture. And he was successful enough to capture the attention of his love throughout centuries once again. As her friends dragged her away to end their artsy part of their trip, she made sure to mark the name of the artist.

For some inexplicable reason, Charles Leclerc, in this life a racing driver, was opening an ice cream shop in in Milan. It probably would have made more sense to everyone, himself included, if he'd known that in one of their luckier past lives, he and his soulmate met in a small café in that city, few decades before that. He would come in one day, order an ice-cream and then did not stop coming until he managed to charm her.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #soulmate au #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x female reader #ferrari f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #chalres leclerc fluff #f1 fluff #f1 angst #charles leclerc soulmate au

524 notes · View notes

sebscore · 1 year

Note

gen-z driver getting interviewed by jenson and all the drivers making fun of her for stumbling over her words

BE YOUR WINGMAN

pairings: jenson button x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader

warnings: I don’t think there are any (?).

author’s note: been wanting to do this one for a while now, I’m not totally proud of it, but wanted to share it anyway! hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think of it!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

“Yeah, no points today, but I’m confident we’re able to bounce back next weekend.” Daniel answered Jenson’s question on how the race went.

The Sky F1 booth was crowded with Jenson Button, Martin Brundle and Natalie Pinkham interviewing both Daniel Ricciardo and Sebastian Vettel.

The three presenters nodded as his answer. “Seb, how about you?” Natalie turned the question to him.

“Eh, I think we could have scored more points today, we lost a lot of ground,” he had the urge to roll his eyes at the reminder, “the pace was good, so we can take that to the next race.” He finished up, politely.

Martin was about to change the subject, but Daniel pointed to something behind the camera which caught everyone’s attention. “Look who it is!”

“Y/N! Come on up here!” Natalie called the young woman over, who was visibly embarrassed as she simply wanted to pass through to go to her team’s hospitality.

The driver shook her head, waving her hands that she wanted to leave, but no one was having it. “I’ll let you stand next to Jenson, Y/N!” Daniel grinned from ear to ear.

One of the producers handed her a mic and she was practically pushed onto the small podium by her PR assistant.

Y/N quickly greeted everyone, giving Sebastian and Daniel a side hug. She wanted to stand in-between her two colleagues, but they moved themselves so she was right next to Jenson.

Her “crush” on the former World Champion had been a running joke ever since she was a rookie. It started with an old interview of an 11 year-old Y/N saying that one of her life goals was to marry Jenson Button.

“Y/N, you had a much better race than your friends over here, P4, how are you feeling now?” Martin asked her.

She took a deep breath before answering. “Uh, too bad to miss the podium, especially cause the gap was very small. I’m excited for next week, though and, uh, yeah.” She awkward wrapped up, a bit too flustered with her close proximity to the Brit next to her.

“Besides the top 2, it was a very close race today and I think you did everything you could, so well done.” Jenson complimented her, looking directly at her.

Y/N nervously avoided his eyes, deciding to focus on something in the far distance. “Oh, uh, t-thank you.” She stuttered.

The red tint on her cheeks and ears didn’t go unnoticed. “She’s gone very red.” Sebastian teased, pointing at the younger one.

Everyone at the panel turned towards her and chuckled at her trying to cover her cheeks. “A small tomato.” Martin joked.

“It’s just very warm here.” Y/N defended herself, but everyone knew it wasn’t the weather.

Daniel nudged her shoulder. “She’s been very sad the past few weeks, cause Jenson announced he’s getting married soon.” The Australian continued the teasing.

Her hands covered her face again as everyone laughed at her despair. “Poor Y/N, she wasn’t able to fulfill one of her dreams.” Natalie commented, a bright smile on her face knowing the viewers were loving this.

“She still has time.” Daniel added, having too much fun at the moment. “You have a few more months.” He glanced at her.

“Shut up, Daniel!” Y/N jokingly slapped his arm to everyone’s amusement at their banter.

The McLaren driver simply laughed as he put his hands on both of her shoulders. “I’m trying to be your wingman here.”

“I don’t think she needs one.” Sebastian said into the microphone, looking at the pair.

“Y/N, do you often take Daniel with you when you’re looking for a potential partner?” Natalie asked her, although it was obvious she wasn’t looking for a serious answer.

The young driver jokingly rolled her eyes. “Not anymore, he scares everyone away with his weird noises.” She teased the Australian back.

“I think they’re very effective!” Daniel argued.

“They’re effective if the purpose is to keep me single forever.” Y/N but back.

The two went back-and-forth with each other for a few more minutes. Sebastian and Jenson watched in amusement, while Natalie and Martin tried to subtly interrupt so they could wrap up the segment.

“Any plans left for tonight or straight onto the plane?” Martin asked them.

“Plane!” Sebastian and Daniel chorused. Jenson glanced at the girl next to him. “And you, Y/N?”

“I’m gonna dig a hole and throw myself in it after we’re done here.” She answered, her monotone voice making everyone laugh at her answer.

Daniel couldn’t help but throw one last remark at her. “You probably want Jenson to join you in there.”

Y/N waved at the camera as soon as the words left his mouth. “Goodnight, everyone!” The whole panel cackled as they watched her leave. “See you all next week!”

She walked off the platform and gave the microphone back to the producers. Y/N waved at everyone from behind the camera, not wanting to be rude and leave without a proper goodbye.

“She’s going to dig that hole now.” Sebastian commented, a grin on his face.

Jenson chuckled. “She’ll probably throw Daniel in it instead of herself.”

taglist :: @i0veless @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @formulazeesworld @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111

if you would like to be added, fill in this form !

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #jenson button x reader #jenson button x oc #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x oc #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x oc #f1 oc #f1 x y/n

3K notes · View notes

vroomvroomcircuit · 1 month

Text

You pulling in made me wish your Dad pulled out

(A/N): Thank you to @foreveralbon for workshopping this fic with me with this prompt. I don't know what to do if you weren't my muse.

Summary: Charles pissed off his neighbor with his parking. Her answers are notes taped to his car window. How can evolve more out of that?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

(Y/N) knows that she isn’t the most professional car parker. She should never start a career as a valet for sure. After all, she needed a second attempt on her own practical test to attain her drivers license.

But there is this one neighbor of hers. She doesn’t know what he looks like, what his name is or where he even lives. But (Y/N) knows one thing for sure: He is a shit parker.

Like, he is the worst person at parking that has ever walked the world. If he could, he probably would park his oh so expensive car onto other cars. But she tries to not let that get too close to her. After all, we just talk about parking spaces and it’s not worth getting her blood pressure up over it.

But (Y/N) found her tipping point.

Her whole morning has been a shit show. Her alarm went off, but she accidentally turned it off instead of giving herself another five minutes of sleep. Five minutes turned into 45. That meant the young woman had to rush through her usual morning routine and she is 90 % sure that she put at least one clothing item on the wrong way.

But it’s ok, she is still on time. She just needs to get out of the car par-

This is where (Y/N) last thread of patience with that neighbor snaps in two like a potato chip, crisp and unclean. This person parked the front half of his car in a way that completely blocks (Y/N)’s rear end from exiting the car in a way that does not hinder the sidewalk.

It takes a solid seven minutes to get out of her spot, trying not to scratch hers or another car. Arriving a few minutes late at work because of that and receiving a reprimand from her boss is really the young woman’s last straw. On her lunch break she does some snooping on the internet and comes across a really fine find. It’s worth the price and shipping cost to her.

Actually, she can’t wait for the week it is supposed to take to arrive at her doorstep.

But the time between that particular day and the day of arrival do fly by when you use it getting madder and madder at the dickhead that is unable to park like a normal person.

The next occurrence doesn’t take long after (Y/N)’s package finally arrives. She wanted to park her vehicle in her usual spot when Mr. Ferrari already took his and her own too. How can one person be such an asshole?

(Y/N) takes one of the business card sized cuts out of her glove box and puts it in the slit of the black car’s window. Satisfied with her work she steps back into her vehicle and looks for a different spot, ending up walking several minutes back to her apartment building, having to look somewhere farther away.

Charles can see from a distance that there is a card at his car’s windowshield. Which makes him suspicious. Surely no one thinks that he wants to sell his car for cheap, so it can’t be one of those car handler’s business cards. Maybe it’s a new ruse of thieves, trying to get him to stand long enough at his car to read it and be able to steal his car. Or they are kidnappers. Anyways, he makes quick work of putting the card into his pocket and drives off at a neck breaking speed.

When he arrives at his destination, the Monegasque pulls the piece of paper out and reads it. “The way you pulled in makes me wish your dad pulled out”, he reads aloud, laughing a little to himself.

He has to admit that he might not be the best at parking. Who is he even kidding, he would win the world championship at being the worst car parker possible. But the thought of someone getting that angered over his non-existent skills.

It’s something that makes him happy throughout his entire day. Which is his main reason to try and look how much he can piss that particular neighbor off even more.

So Charles starts parking even worse. If he also starts on the habit of watching out of his window more often now, he would claim it is just a coincidence. But something in him wants to meet that neighbor.

That person that gets more and more creative with their insults. One time they called him an obstacle to evolution. The other day the business card said something along the lines of him belonging to the asshole club now.

Another, a handwritten, note asked him not to reproduce. The neighbor even left a condom for him. This made Charles laugh so loudly, that (Y/N) looked out her opened window.

She just finished one of the worst shifts she ever had since starting that job and all she wants is just a quiet evening to come down from the stress. Just the noise of the laugh is enough to set her off again.

Seeing her handsome neighbor from under her apartment pocketing the note and condom she left just minutes earlier isn’t what she expected. Watching him opening the car, sitting down and driving off is even less on her list.

It kind of destroys her world view, realizing that hot neighbor and asshole parker are the same person. In the last couple of weeks (Y/N) started to get some fun out of the mean comments she left at the black Ferrari’s window. This also could be her chance to finally make a move on him.

The young woman waits for the brunette to return with his car and stays seated on her couch for another couple minutes, for extra measure of course. After that, she leaves the apartment building with her prepared note and tapes it to the car’s rear window.

Charles on the other side stays glued to his window as soon as he enters his apartment. He finally wants to catch the person that gets angrier and angrier each time he parks in an outrageous way in the act.

Seeing the beautiful neighbor, who lives above him, sticking another note to his car makes his heart flutter in an unexpected way. For some time now he wanted to get to know her and if everything went according to his original plan, ask her out on a date. But maybe he can now use this to his advantage.

As soon as the beautiful neighbor is back in the building Charles waits an extra couple minutes before he once again makes his way to his car.

Running over his vehicle with a pep in his step, Charles is kind of excited about what insults or threats await him now. He has to admit, he actually parked pretty decently. Or as decent as he is able to. So the note has to be at least a little bit nicer than the previous ones.

“Hey neighbor. I thought instead of shitting on you and your parking skills even more, I want you to help and get better. I may not be a driving teacher, but helping you wouldn’t make your skills worse. Just text me with the times you are available at ;)” signed with (Y/N)’s name and number.

It’s kind of funny to explain to the press later how Charles met (Y/N) and became her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well I know that my driving has become sort of a, a meme,” he answers when asked a week after his announcement on instagram, “And my neighbor wasn’t too fond of it either. So she started to leave me these really funny, but also really aggressive notes at my car. One said something like I won the inconsiderate Parker Price. Which made me quite proud.” This entices a laugh out of the journalist. “Yeah, (Y/N) has a really good way with words, I fear. But in the end she offered me some parking lessons.” Charles smiles and thinks back to them.

He had texted (Y/N) immediately and they set up a date for the lesson two days away. But they still continued to text non stop and by the time they met up, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Which didn’t stop (Y/N) raging at Charles after his fifth failed attempt of parking his car according to her instructions. “I don’t believe you anymore. With the way you park you are not from Monaco but the deepest and wildest parts of Italy! Your Ferrari seems really fitting now!” This drew a laugh out of him until she graced him with the meanest look he didn’t expect her to be able to muster up.

“How about dinner as a thank you and apology?” He asked sheepishly, trying both to diffuse the situation and make his move. Why not shoot his shot right now?

Luckily the young woman agreed.

“In the end my parking skills weren’t enough to win her over, but my charm was what scored me a second date.”

And a third. A relationship. After some more funny parking jokes and him kneeling down on one knee with a ring and the promise to take lessons to keep their future family safe he even scored himself his unexpected forever.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #x reader #reader insert #charles leclerc x female!reader #x female!reader

580 notes · View notes

sweetercalypso · 7 months

Text

New Gods ✩ Abby Anderson

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The first time Abby meets seraphite!reader, she shows her mercy. The second time they meet, reader repays her kindness

Notes: minors dni; fingering and oral (Abby rec.), semi-public sex, afab reader, dom!Abby, mean!Abby, mentions of guns, brief violence, religious references, enemies to lovers

When Abby hears that she’s being put on a patrol headed for the abandoned side of town, she thinks it’s a joke.

Surely this was some form of punishment, or a test of her loyalty to Isaac’s command. Two weeks in an unoccupied base with a batch of new recruits – it has to be a mistake.

It’s not until the transport truck pulls away from the stadium that Abby accepts the reality of the situation, groaning into her hands to hide her indignation.

The only good thing about this patrol, she thinks, is that absolutely nothing can go wrong.

Abby and her entourage of WLF recruits arrive at their assigned base late in the evening, the sun already sinking low behind Seattle’s derelict skyline.

The city is silent beyond the hum of the armored truck rolling to a stop in front of an old office building. Years ago, the area had been a thriving hub of WLF activity, but the threat of Seraphite armies had shifted attention elsewhere, leaving the bases to sit empty and collecting dust.

Abby swallows her complaints as the truck’s engine shuts off, leaving a jarring silence that prompts her fellow gunmen to turn their collective attention towards her.

Her expertise is better suited to combat than to training, and the thought of being in charge of four wide-eyed rookies makes her question the sanity of whoever put this team together.

She briefly explains the patrol assignment before dolling out tasks to each of the recruits, leaving herself the duty of surveying the perimeter.

Early WLF soldiers had cleared most of the infected while the area was still active, and with the lack of excitement in the streets, Abby returns to the base with the verdict that this patrol will be entirely uneventful.

While the others are setting up camp on the second floor – five cots lined against a wall with a radio station by the windows and supply crates littered around the room – Abby keeps herself busy with watching the thick, heavy clouds rolling in the distance.

She imagines what she might be doing if she had been placed on a different patrol and she crosses her arms over her chest with a bitter sigh.

Anything has to be more exciting than this.

–

Abby awakens while the sky is still dark, the remaining light of dusk swallowed by the inky black threat of storm clouds overhead.

Thunder cracks viciously in the air, rumbling the dusty room and promising to crumble the building’s frame already bowing under years of neglect.

The sound of her distress is barely audible over the harsh rain beating against the windows and, for a moment, Abby can’t remember where she is.

Her mouth feels dry, and it takes an effort to slow her labored breaths. She runs a hand over her face, wiping away her momentary confusion before checking that the other patrollers are still asleep, slipping off her cot and stumbling blindly through the darkened room.

Her weapons and her pack are still resting against a nearby crate, exactly where she’d left them. She slips the strap of her backpack between her fingers, hoping that the familiar worn canvas will distract from the deafening thunder crackling in her ears.

She holds her breath and counts the seconds between the streaks of lightning and claps of thunder – a trick her dad had taught her when she was young.

Somewhere between flash and bang, the sound of footsteps overhead catches Abby’s attention. Her head jerks up towards the source of the noise and she quickly forgets about the looming urgency of bad weather.

The door to the stairwell is propped open, and although Abby knows it was left ajar to air out the stuffy office space, she can’t help but imagine something sinister looming beyond the doorway.

She grabs the closest gun and makes her way to the stairs, listening for the sounds of movement overhead.

All the floors had been checked for infected and all the windows had been secured, but Abby still couldn’t shake the thought of someone invading their base in the dead of night.

She treads up the stairs and pushes the door open, only to be met with the sight of a lonely silhouette moving through the darkness. Abby jumps into action just as she’d been taught, heart thumping wildly as she raises her weapon and aims.

“Get on the ground – now!”

She spits out the stern command, harsh but still quiet enough that it barely fills the room. Despite the anger twisting in her chest, she’s rational enough to know better than to alert the other patrollers sleeping downstairs.

From the looks of it, the intruder was here alone, unarmed. It seemed better to deal with the situation on her own than to cause unwarranted panic the first night in to a new assignment.

The sound of her voice must’ve caught you by surprise because you stop dead in your tracks, not even moving to lunge for cover from the stranger gunning you down.

Illuminated by only the sharp flashes of lightning cutting through the shadows, it takes a moment for Abby to piece together the scene before her.

You’re soaked to the bone, cloaked in brown cloth and shivering from the rain clinging to your skin.

At first, she thought you might’ve been a soldier from another patrol, separated from your group and seeking shelter in an expectedly empty outpost. Or maybe you could’ve been a straggler roaming the city in search of supplies left behind by its former inhabitants.

But when a crack of lightning catches your features at the right angle, Abby recognizes the mark stretching across your cheek, and realization washes over her.

“Fucking Scars.”

She keeps her gun steady, though her fingers flex against the heavy, steel grip.

With eyes trained diligently on your figure, she closes the distance between the two of you in a few short steps, scowling when she’s close enough to discern the look of confusion on your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, shoving the muzzle of her gun roughly into your shoulder and spitting out a sharp “answer me”.

Her boot hits the back of your leg and you crumble into the floor with swallowed discontent.

“I’m not- I didn’t know you would be here.” You scramble to explain yourself, chancing a look at Abby standing behind you. She pushes her gun further into your shoulder, silently instructing your gaze back to the floor.

“This building’s supposed to be empty. It says so on the map.”

“You’re spying on our bases?” Her voice rises with every word, no longer concerned with who might hear. “Planning a fucking ambush?”

“No! Nothing like that. I’m not a soldier, I was supposed to collect supplies from the city, but I got caught in the rain.”

She laughs and rolls her shoulders reflexively.

“I don’t care why you’re here – Scars don’t get second chances.”

Thunder rattles the thin-paned windows lining the room. Abby’s heartbeat fills her ears. Prayer tumbles from your lips like the nervous chatter of teeth – uneasy, repetitive, instinctive.

Abby had never given much thought to prayer before, especially not that of a Scar. It’s always the same routine pleading that’ll never be answered. But it doesn’t sound like you’re begging for salvation, it sounds like you’re making peace.

Something about the situation doesn’t seem fair. You’re completely helpless, caught in a trap you couldn’t see laid out in front of you. Your people must’ve known something like this could happen, yet they sent you into the wolves’ den, anyway – a sacrificial lamb led to the slaughter.

A foreign pang of uncertainty resonates through Abby’s chest, and she lowers her gun with a shake of her head.

“Just- just go.”

A beat passes before you look back at Abby in disbelief. You gape blankly at her for a moment before mouthing a small “what?”.

She huffs impatiently and grabs you by the arm, hauling you up from your position on the floor. If anyone came in and found the two of you standing this close, you’d both be dead before you could part.

“Leave. Now. If the others find you here, they won’t be so nice.”

Her eyes flit over your face, searching for confirmation that she was doing the right thing. She expected to find fear etched into your features, maybe gratefulness, or even shock. But she’s met with only curiosity in your wide, unblinking eyes.

She pushes you away and turns to leave before she can change her mind, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

Abby knows what the other patrollers would’ve done if they had found you first. She knows what she would’ve done if the circumstances had been different.

You should be dead – or worse. It hadn’t been that long since she’d assisted in the interrogations that happened to Scars who’d been captured and strung up in cells for the rest of their days.

When Abby thinks about those people now, only one face stares back at her.

–

The next morning, Abby is forced to bite her tongue when someone finds the upstairs window open, raindrops clinging to the wood frame serving as the only evidence of your intrusion.

She blames it on one of the other patrollers, suggesting that they didn’t do a thorough enough sweep the night before, but not everyone is convinced.

They search the building anyway but come up empty-handed, and the situation is defused and entirely forgotten by midday.

For the remainder of their two-week patrol, Abby wonders if you had really been there at all, or if you were a product of some underlying guilt she had stored in the back of her mind. She would stay up through night and listen for the sound of footsteps, not sure if she should feel relief or disappointment when the mornings arrived without any sign of you.

When the familiar rumble of the armored truck rolls in to collect Abby and the recruits, she returns to the stadium and does her best to keep you off her mind.

She volunteers for extra shifts; she monitors the communications radio; she listens to stories of other patrollers and wonders if they’re describing you in their encounters with unnamed and faceless Scars.

When she hears about another group headed for the abandoned side of the city, she jumps at the opportunity to join their patrol. Anything for some peace of mind, she tells herself.

They’re dropped off in front of a different building, a couple blocks west of where her last patrol had been located. Abby’s chest deflates when she realizes the absurdity of her desire to find you again.

It’d been weeks since she’d let you go, and surely you’d learned your lesson about venturing near WLF bases alone. Maybe you hadn’t, and someone else had found you before Abby had the chance.

She shivers at the thought and moves to catch up with the rest of her team, abandoning her concern for something more practical.

She offers to check the upper floors while the others bring in supplies, and no one objects to avoiding the endless flights of stairs and dusty rooms waiting for her.

Four floors up, Abby stops to inspect a window that had been broken some time ago. Shards of glass and a handful of dead leaves lay at her feet, and when stoops down to look for anything out of the ordinary, the door to the stairwell creaks shut behind her.

“It’s you.”

Her head whips around at the sound of your voice, familiar but different now that you’re no longer at her will.

From where she stands, Abby can see the way your chest rises and falls with anticipation, the way your hands twist at your sides. She waits for you to speak again, but the room falls silent.

“What’re you doing here?” she hisses, praying that the others were too busy to come check on her progress.

“I heard the truck – I knew you were coming.”

Abby frowns and moves a step closer. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how many of those soldiers downstairs would like to get their hands on you?”

You cock your head to the side, as if you didn’t understand.

“You saved my life once already. I wouldn’t have come if I thought I’d be in danger.”

She scoffs at the presumption that she would betray her people again, but a small voice reminds her that’s exactly what she’d planned to do.

She moves past you to leave but you stop her with a hand laid over her arm. Abby’s jaw tenses at the contact, but when her resentful gaze flickers up to meet yours, she’s met with the same unabashed interest you’d worn before.

“I owe you, wolf. The Prophet commands us to repay those who show mercy.”

You pause before continuing. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

Abby takes a moment to consider. What does she want?

She wants your leader’s head at her feet; she wants to make her friends proud; she wants to understand why she had let you go that night in the storm.

Her eyes trail down to your lips, to the mottled scar etched into your cheek. She wonders what you’d look like without its crooked ridges marring your skin. She wonders how it would feel under her hands.

It catches you both off guard when her parted lips press against yours, teeth clacking together from the fervency of her kiss.

Her hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, though she’s not sure if she wants to pull you closer or push you away. She grunts into your mouth and slides her other hand around your waist. An unfamiliar heat licks at the base of your spine.

“I want you to thank me for letting you go,” she declares.

Seraphite leaders had spoken on end about the corrupt morals of ‘new world’ adherents, but this was not the danger you’d learned to fear. Abby was unique, addicting, and you wanted more.

You fall to your knees at her feet, almost a mirror image of the night you’d met. This time, however, you’re the one in control.

She hums and rubs the pad of her thumb over her swollen bottom lip, still wet with your spit. “That’s a good start.”

Nimble fingers work open the button of her jeans, shimmying the dark denim down her toned, freckled thighs. Her black boxers follow suit, revealing a smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval.

Your hands smooth over her heated skin, palming at her hips in an attempt to pull her closer. She concedes and shuffles forward until her cunt presses to your awaiting mouth and your tongue dips out to taste her.

It’s like nothing either of you have experienced – the guilt of betraying your own people, the trust that comes from such inconceivable circumstances. It’s all too much to comprehend, so you choose to ignore it for the time being.

Abby’s head tips back with a sigh, little breaths and chirps of pleasure pushed from her lungs as your tongue flattens over her clit.

It almost looks like you’re praying, Abby decides. Kneeling in front of your altar, eyes screwed shut, searching for a sign from some divine being. She cards her fingers through your hair and tugs at the roots, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s messy, greedy, downright sinful the way you press your mouth to her. Slick coats your chin and your cheeks, glistening in the dim light streaming through the windows.

You’re spurred on by the way she tilts her hips, the wet squelch of her cunt against your mouth. Her thighs flex against the sides of your face, smothering your cheeks in her arousal.

“Ah- just like that.”

In addition to your tongue roaming everywhere you can reach, your thumb comes up to rub firm circles against her clit. After a moment, you switch positions, dragging your fingers through her slick and dipping two digits inside her.

She gasps at the intrusion and bucks her hips harshly, urging you to move faster. Your fingers curl inside her, driving into that gummy spot at the top of her walls while you suction her clit into your mouth.

“Fuck,” she pants, grinding down on your mouth. “M’gonna come.”

It’s not long before she’s shuddering through her release, choking back a poorly suppressed moan while she fights to keep her eyes open. You continue to work over her mound until she releases your hair from her grip and takes half a step back on shaky legs.

Remembering her earlier request for gratitude, you lean back on your heels and lick the remnants of her slick from your lips.

“Thank you, wolf.”

She looks down as if she’d only just remembered you were there and her eyes sparkle with renewed interest. A lazy smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“You gonna stay so I can return the favor?”

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #abby tlou #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #tlou #enemies to lovers #wlw smut

903 notes · View notes

official-cvntified-gay · 2 months

Text

Attention (Regina George x Reader)

Summary: Regina is used to having the students basically worship her, but not the teacher. She tries to get the teacher's attention.

𝘱.𝘴: 𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤

・❥・ 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

﹒⪩⪨﹒

"Yes, Ms. George?" I utter with no interest but with enough politeness, as I did to any of my students. I keep my eyes on her as she speaks, listening to every word that comes out of her mouth.

"Thank you Ms. George that was a very good perspective." I nodded at her in acknowledgment. The blonde smirked at me but before she could say something else in front of the class. I cut her " alright, moving on. "Yes, Ms. Jones? Anything else you'd like to add?"

Regina squinted her eyes as her gaze trailed on the young professor, not liking how easily she diverted her attention away from her. Regina never verbally demanded attention, it has always been given to her without her asking for it.

How dare you not give it to her.

She watched you with careful eyes as you entertained another student. She can't help but want you to keep your attention on her. How dare you waltz in with your overwhelming presence that had her squirming in her seat.

Those words did wonders to her mind when all you teach about is history. She craves your attention.

So she always tries to find things to keep it on her.

"Ms. L/n can you help me with this?" She asked, her voice laced with nothing but sweetness but there's an underlying naughtiness deep within it.

Is it because she wore a revealing top that day and it would require you to look down on her?

"You can come here if you need me to help you with something..." You said calmly words treading slowly, wiggling your pen on your fingers as you looked straight into her. She smiled, trying to provoke you but smirked when something crossed her mind.

Her steps echoed across the quiet room as her focus was to get in front of your desk. You lean back on your seat, hands moving on your spread legs. Her eyes took a glance at your arms. Taking note of your rolled-up sleeves and the pen between your fingers.

"Here, miss..." putting her hands on each side of your desk, and that required her to lean forward closer to you. Your gaze is unwavering as you look up at her before slowly looking down at the paper on her desk.

"Seems like you don't need help, Ms. George. Your work is correct" I spoke, letting the words out slowly. I raise my head to look up at her. Not flinching at the short distance between us. I stare into her eyes that's fixated on my lips as I speak.

"Ms. George?" My tone raising a bit at her last name, I raise my eyebrow at her. She didn't even look fazed when I caught her looking at my lips. Instead, she simply smiled at me.

"I know..." she tilted her head a bit to the side, her lips pursing lightly. I cross my arms in front of me, still not moving away from her.

"Hmm?" I questioned, and she gave me a smirk. "I said, I know. I just wanna see you this close," she said proudly. "Huh..." I smirked at her words, I scanned her face for any hint of mischief.

"sit down, Ms. George." I squinted my eyes quickly before motioning with my head for her to take her seat. She bit her lips lightly before obeying me.

"Remember class, come here if you need me to help you with something" I shook my head slightly before I continued reading my book. Not even glancing at the blonde.

'I did need help with something, but it would need to be handled in private' Regina blushed at her thoughts. She wondered if she would talk to Karen and Gretchen about this little crush of hers.

Deciding that she needs to keep these feelings to herself, Regina doesn't know what to do. She's not used to this type of situation. Where someone she's interested in won't even converse with her casually.

Regina's infatuation blossomed, she started going to class early just because she knew that you would be there preparing for your class. She made sure to greet you every time. And every time she gets

"Good morning, Ms. George. Take your seat." So she had no choice but to take her seat, even if she wanted to approach you. You made it very clear that you want to be strictly professional.

But Regina doesn't beat around the bush, she respects you. But that doesn't mean that she won't do anything to satisfy her feelings.

"Need any help, Ms. L/n?" She would always ask, and most of the time you politely decline her offer but when you don't. She makes the most out of it.

"Cool, what do you need me for?" She makes her way to you, making sure to stand close to you.

"I need you to arrange this for me please." You said, handing her a pile of paper. Regina would normally complain about this, but if it's you. Who is she to deny?

"Sure, anything for you." You stared at her when she said that but she just gave you a shrug and a smile before working to arrange the work you gave her.

"You're something, Regina..." Her hand stopped, and her breath got caught for a second. Before it was processed you called her by her name.

"I know... what are you gonna do about it then?" She challenged, leaning closer to you.

"Hmm, I don't know," I said, my voice getting lower. I place her hair behind her ears, my fingers on her chin tilting her head to look at me, "maybe you should do something about it"

Well Regina thought wrong, or maybe you're not being clear?

Realizing your actions, you slowly remove your hand from her but not before finally admiring her. If it weren't for the circumstances you had right now. You'd probably ask her out, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Thank you for your help, Ms. George. You can take your seat now." You turn your back on her, not even looking to see her reaction.

That made Regina confused, she thought she was finally getting something and it turned back down to zero. She groaned quietly in her seat, observing how you casually went back to your work like you didn't do anything to her.

One thing's for sure, she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

(𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙)

Decided to cut this cause I had to release this for me to continue writing stories again😭 let me know if you want a part 2. And if you have any requests, feel free<3

#regina george x reader #renee rapp x reader #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #gay #lesbians #regina george #renee rapp #Spotify

417 notes · View notes

pillowspace · 4 months

Text

Fnaf au ramble yada-yada

New thought that's stuck on my mind. One of those time travel fix-it Michael AUs, except Charlie also time travelled after Pizzeria Simulator. Neither of them knows the other remembers everything, and both are too distracted trying to comprehend the sheer normalcy of their own realities to really process how different the other person's acting.

Henry's very concerned as to what's happened to his daughter, as Charlie's suddenly become much more still and quiet, lacking her typical innocent cheer. She forgets to eat or drink until Henry reminds her to, and she won't tell him why she suddenly seems so on edge all the time. She was in terrible conditions as the Marionette for years, she has no idea how she's meant to be a person again. She sits in the same room as Michael and just stares at him, and whenever she's not looking, Michael's staring at her, thinking about a strange history that no longer exists but has put a massive barrier of tension between them both.

But there's also one issue with the time travel.

Neither Charlie nor Michael can remember when any of the deaths are to happen until they're happening.

So one day, Charlie gets locked out of the pizzeria in the rain. At first she pounds on the window, but then she stops. She backs away from it. There is a powerful, suffocating dread in her chest that is so much more than just her aversion to rain, demanding her attention. Something is very, very wrong. Now becoming even more nervous, she tries to recall how she had gotten back inside the building that day.

And she realizes.

She does not have a single memory past this point.

And before a car can even turn the block, Charlie runs.

At the same time, Michael was also running. He had regained the memory of this being the day Charlie dies, and is determined to make it to her before his father can. Only to turn the corner and, sprinting as fast as he can, crash directly into Charlie who had been doing the same. Michael barely has time to regain his focus on the sidewalk before Charlie is already scrambling back up and running past him to gain more distance.

So... life successfully saved! By... herself. What changed? And why had she been running so scared if, when Michael asked, his father hadn't even seen Charlie that day...? And as time goes on for even longer, Michael slowly starts to pick up on Charlie's oddities. Out of everything, it sticks out to him that when her birthday arrives, a birthday that she had never had the chance to see before, she only makes one request:

She wants a music box.

Eventually it'll have to fall into place.

Cassidy could have also time travelled, but I'm hesitant on that because the AU might just end the second they find a fatal weapon. Then again, I could give Cassidy the added bonus of not remembering who their killer even was, so one day they just grab Evan by the shoulders like "Evan. Evan, there is an imposter among us and I have no idea who it is, I'm going to explode. Tell me if you see a murderer" and he's like "there's a WHAT?? D':"

#ramble #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #charlie emily #charlotte emily #henry emily #cassidy fnaf #fnaf cassidy #evan afton #crying child

544 notes · View notes

rookiesbookies · 4 months

Text

Boys reacting to their s/o smacking their ass

Here’s the boys I write for (might add Horangi and Kruger to the roster)

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always

Please for the love of god leave me request, TELL ME WHAT YOU ALL WANT <3

Fic under the cut

Price

Whoever let his wife on base the day they were breaking in new recruit was so fucking dead. He bets it was Simon. Yeah, his wife always brought a home cooked meal for the team. Yeah, he always got smooches and got to feel her up at work. But he never expected this behavior from his sweet little wife when she knew how new recruit days were.

He bets it was Soap and Gaz, daring her to do it. They loved trying to get her in trouble, which is why he never allowed his kids to be watched by them. Lord knows how much trouble the two would encourage.

He heard it before he felt it. It echoed in the open field. Probably heard for miles.

She let out a squeak as he slowly turned to look at her, recruits had stopped the exercises they were doing and she bolted from the stand they were on watching.

“It wasn’t supposed to be that loud!” She squeaked, “Gaz and Soap told me to do it! They said you’d find it funny! That if I did it they wouldn’t beg me for baked goods ever again!”

As she jogged ahead to keep the distance between them as his long strides were closing the distance with ease.

“Simon has the kids, I should really go check on him! Your sons can be quite the handful! I think I hear him calling for me now, I should really go!” She squeaked out more, her jog quickly turning to a run as she took off through the base.

He quickly snatched her up.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson about listening to Kyle and Johnny.” John grumbled.

Soap

Stupid fucking booty shorts. Soap had found her stupid booty short in his laundry. He was now prancing around the shared apartment in them. They were so small on him she was surprised he could fit in them and knew he was in no way comfortable, he was however, a great actor. They were so short the bottoms of his spandex underwear were longer by like 2 inches.

“Johnny, take them off.”

“No,” he retorted proudly, “they were in my laundry so they’re mine now.”

That was the line she used to steal his undershirts so they could be used as nightgowns.

She grumbled, “fine,” before getting an idea.

He was making pancakes in the kitchen, breakfast for dinner Saturdays, as they both had started. His apron was even longer than the short, jeez. He continued shaking ass to whatever song was in his headphones as he hummed along to it.

“Target locked,” she mumbled to herself. Sneaking in.

The smack echoed. His ass was pulled so tight in them it basically slipped out to jiggle from the hit. He folded backwards in dramatics.

“I’m hit! I’m hit!” He cried as if he was radioing to his team. “Taking the enemy down with me, sir!”

She was laughing too hard to pay attention as his hand connected with her ass. The sweatpants muffled it but she fell to the ground too.

Ghost

She always pinched his ass. Especially if he was fresh from the gym. The first time had surprised him but after that he was pretty good at predicting it and catching her hand.

However, a full on smack at a pub celebrating with the boys? Oh that was new.

She was drunk, so he had expected something dumb from her. He was bound to do something dumb too. But he was going to wait until they got home and not when he was bent over the bar slightly to talk to the bartender over the loud music.

He thought he heard a record scratch as her hand connected with his butt. He turned around, throwing his card at Johnny. Letting him know to buy himself a drink and pay for their tab before pulling her out as she giggled.

He’d handle this at home.

But for now he planted a light pat pat on her butt and her eyes went wide.

“Haha sorry Simon, I’ve sobered up now! You can put me down!”

Konig

She had been hugging him from behind after his most recent return from a mission. He was stirring the soup she had started for herself, not expecting him to be home for another week or so.

“Meine Taube, can you go put my mask up.” He handed her his mask off his face, leaning down to give a peck on the lips, “I will give you the kiss you deserve when you return.”

She had pittered off down the hall a bit when she got an idea. Perhaps revenge for how he had surprised her when he got home.

She was listening to music loudly, swaying her hips and humming when he got home. It was dark out so she hadn’t noticed the car being his as it drove past, and she hadn’t noticed the sound of the front door unlocking either.

All she knew was a hand connected with her ass while another covered her mouth to muffle her scream, while she had been cooking. She was so scared it was an intruder.

So she began to seek out revenge. She slid on the hood and did her best quiet walk before getting behind Konig who thought she was back from putting up his mask.

SMACK.

It echoed down the hall as she bolted. His heavy steps followed with an all too large smirk on his face.

He found her hiding behind a giant laundry basket and pulled her out from behind it by her ankle. She clutched the mask to her chest with wide eyes, forgetting the size of her husband.

“There was this crazy noise, I think it was a gunshot! I had to duck for cover, I thought they had come for you!” She rambled as she pulled her down the hall by her ankle, her back to the floor and her shirt riding up. “I was so worried but that was a crazy noise! I wonder where it came from!”

“Uh-huh.”

Keegan

This man is 8 kinds of caked up. His girlfriend knows it and so does he. Its not like Gaz’s relationship where only the girlfriend does the ass smacking, in Keegan’s it goes both ways.

“Hey, lovey, can you reach the cinnamon for me?”

Little did this poor man know, this was a set up. The cinnamon never ends up that high up. So when he reached, a crack echoed through the apartment.

She fell over laughing so hard at the noise it made. She curled up laughing on the floor. She almost couldn’t breath as Keegan went over to the fridge and added a tally to her side of the mini white board.

“Damn, you’re three ahead of me this month! I'm impressed. You’re getting sneakier,” he said as she gasped she was laughing so hard. “Did you even need the cinnamon?”

She shook her head and he sighed.

“Ah hell. I gotta catch up now.”

It wasn’t until after dinner when he did, sneaking one in as she was washing plates. She almost dropped the one she had been scrubbing.

Gaz

Gaz wasn't one for grabbing or smacking people's behinds, but his girlfriend was a different story—she seemed to have made a sport out of it. Every time he bent over or even when he least expected it, she was there to strike.

Soap seemed to encourage this behavior.

It was a rare sight to see Simon giggle, but this was the only time it happened.

Even Price couldn't help but stifle a laugh every time Gaz looked shocked at his girlfriend's antics.

What Gaz never mentioned was that he didn't really mind it and had never asked her to stop. There was one time when she didn't do it, and he turned around looking genuinely concerned, asking if that was how she was breaking up with him. Feeling guilty, she had to continue the act because Gaz was in on it, though the others didn't know. They enjoyed making Simon laugh so much he had to bite his mask to muffle it.

When they were drunk, she and Soap even played a game to see if Gaz could figure out who did it. Sometimes, Gaz would turn around to see his girlfriend across the bar, completely confused.

The whole situation was a hilarious secret between them, with Gaz never letting on that he was actually into it. Gaz saw no reason to let the cat out of the bag. The amused glances and hidden smirks between him and his girlfriend were their little inside joke.

Remember to submit requests, check out the masterlist pinned on my account, and let me know what you want to see!

976 notes · View notes

jakethesequel · 1 year

Text

Welcome back to Tumblr's Poorest Wettest Saddest Littlest Meow Meow Competition! Before we announce the final verdict, let's see how our "lovely" contestants are doing backstage!

VRISKA SERKET, hailing from welcoming Homestuck, is in the blue corner! She's a TROLL, a TELEPATH, and a THIEF. She has also attained GODHOOD, and I'm informed she did nothing wrong! Just off the heels of a dramatic loss in the recent Tumblrwoman Election, she deeply resents being trapped in this narrative device!

Her attire today is plain by Earth standards, but well put-together by ALTERNIAN ones. Nevertheless, she has been known to dress up on occasion, particularly in the colors of her ANCESTOR, the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!

She is extraordinarily determined, and extremely manipulative. She will do anything she can to make herself into the hero her story needs, consequences be damned. Her actions have made her the source of eternal, vitriolic discourse. Some believe her entirely justified, some believe her a heartless villain, and others believe everything in between; every one steadfast and passionate about their specific stance! Love her or hate her: VRISKA!!!!!!!!

HARRIER DU BOIS, also known as HARRY, sometimes referring to himself as RAPHAEL AMBROSIUS COSTEAU or THE REINCARNATION OF KRAS MAZOV, is here representing scenic Disco Elysium! He is a DETECTIVE, an ALCOHOLIC, a recent AMNESIAC, and a WASTE of ENERGY. Having just recently recovered from an attempt at drinking himself to death, we thought inviting him to compete might raise his spirits some! Unfortunately he does not seem to be totally aware of his surroundings, as he has already tried to touch himself twice on air!

His garish and mismatched clothes are STAINED with seemingly every substance a human body can produce. His face is locked in an EXPRESSION that can only induce disgust and discomfort in those who view it.

The few memories he can draw from his fractured mind paint him as violent, selfish, cruel, and pitiful. He has been trying to get over a breakup for six years, and has only partially succeeded through near-total retrograde amnesia. Worst of all, he's still somehow a decently successful cop. He has no friends and few allies on Revachol, with perhaps the sole exception of the impossibly patient and composed Lt. Kim Katsuragi. Even among his fans, you'd be hard pressed to find one who'd defend him, and ever harder pressed to find one willing to stand in the same room as him. Nevertheless, from the safe distance of fiction, let's hear it for HARRY!

In but a few moments, the doors in front of them will open, and they will be able to approach the trophy onto which we have engraved the name of the winner. 5… 4… 3… 2…

AND THE WINNER IS: VRISKAAAAAAAA SERKET!

—

Vriska: WH8T THE FUCK.

Vriska: WHAT THE F8CK!!!!!!!!

Vriska: I WON THIS????????

Vriska: You pieces of shit can't supp8rt me to win ag8inst some lanky rain8bow-drinking 8itch, 8ut 8eat one-in-fuck8ng 16777216 odds to win poorest, wettest, saddest, littlest g8ddamn meow8east?

Logic [Easy:Success]: She won. That means we lost.

Conceptualization [Challenging:Failure]: Another loss in a long, long line of losses.

Pain Threshold: You've gotten used to the feeling by now. Losing something barely even hurts anymore.

Endurance: You still carry each one with you. Well, except…

Volition: Not now. Not yet.

Authority [Medium:Success]: This doesn't have to stay a loss. Stare the girl down. Challenge her. Don't let this be taken from you.

Wait, what *is* she doing, anyway?

Perception: The grey girl seems to be shouting at someone, but there's no one else here.

Vriska: FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Inland Empire [Godly:Success]: The unseen audience, the string-pullers of fate. The sadistic writer terrorizing their creation. The storybook itself, the confines it sets. She has seen the death of the author, and needs more.

Empathy [Medium:Failure]: What's got her so upset?

Harry: Is there something wrong with you?

Vriska: I'm not taking that from a walking dumpster, asshole!

Suggestion: There's still time to fix this. Say something nice, quickly.

Harry: I just mean, you seem upset. I thought you'd be celebrating your win. It’s a big accomplishment, right?

Vriska: Are you kidding?

Drama: Are we, sire? Should we be, perhaps?

Vriska: You thought I’d 8e cele8r8ing this? A vote for the most pitia8le, pathetic person in paradox space? I’m not so desper8 to fill my pity quadrant that I need to resort to CROWDFUNDING! That’s like the lowest form of 8egging!

Electrochemistry: You are that desperate. Don’t think we're above begging for it, piggy.

Conceptualization [Easy:Success]: Oh. This was not a contest one wants to win. Maybe our loss was for the best.

Vriska: And I WON!!!!!!!! With this kind of competition, HOW did I get all the votes? All of them!

Reaction Speed [Trivial:Success]: "This kind of competition?" She’s talking about you! Say something!

Harry: It was a tight race. You fought with honor.

Vriska: IT SH8ULDN’T HAVE FUCKIN8 8EEN!

Vriska: Look at you! What the fuck kind of su8juggl8or suit are you wearing? Did someone 8leed on it?

Savoir Faire: No, no, this outfit is *cool*. You just have to give it a little *disco*, man.

Strike a pose.

Vriska: …

Vriska: You can’t seriously think any of that is appealing.

Vriska: Your clothes look like they were dragged out of 8 different gar8age 8ins.

Vriska: You couldn’t 8e more greasy and stained if you drowned in a pail of 8rooding slurry. From the st8 of your body, you actually might have!

Physical Instrument: I told you. You need to cultivate more mass.

Composure [Challenging:Failure]: Please, don’t start crying in front of a teenager.

You realize that you already have.

Vriska: Are you seriously crying right now? I might not 8e an expert on the human metamorphological process 8ut you definitely aren’t a pupa anymore. Shit, you look like you’re halfway dead already. Grow up, Pupa Pan!

Endurance: You need to stop this, now, before you break down further.

Harry: Fuck off, fucking spidery bitch! Leave me alone!

Vriska: Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen a grown man act this pathetic 8efore. How the hell did you not win this!?!?!?!? Do you even have a single thing going for you?

Esprit De Corps: You have a badge and a gun. You are a Detective Lieutenant-Yefreitor of the RCM. At least for now, you have that.

Harry: I’m a pretty good fucking cop.

Vriska: There are no good cops you dum8 8itch!

Authority: Make her stop.

Vriska: I’ve known you less than a minute and you already disgust me. I feel 8ad for the people that actually have to 8e near you.

Half Light: Do what you have to do and do it now.

Vriska: You deserved to win this. I don’t know how you can live like that. 8ack home you would have 8een culled sweeps ago.

Hand Eye Coordination [Legendary:Success]: You have never fired a shot so quickly or instinctually. You didn’t even know your gun was loaded. You pulled it out the way a cat scratches a hand, or a drunk pisses himself. You don’t remember when violence became second nature to you, but you didn’t forget how to do it either.

Harry: Oh, God.

Perception (Sight): Is that blood… blue?

Visual Calculus [Legendary:Success]: Light swirls and shimmers around the girl’s body, flashing a technicolor code you cannot decipher. Her body floats into the air, and her eyes flash open. All eight of them.

Inland Empire: No justice. No heroism. Just mindless violence.

Half Light: RUN.

Vriska: OW!

Vriska: Oh no you fucking don’t!!!!!!!!

(♏) Volition [Impossible:Failure]: You try to run, but your will is seemingly powerless to drive your body. I’m sorry.

Physical Instrument: Don’t look at me. I’m in great shape.

Interfacing: Connections seem fine. Don’t tell me we have to unplug him again…

♏Vriska♏: What the fuck.

Harry: Wh-wh-what are you doing to me?

Vriska: Shut up I’m trying to f8cus!

Inland Empire: Welcome, Thief of Light.

♏Vriska♏: What the hell is wrong with you?

Encyclopedia: Severe alcoholism. Retrograde amnesia. Partial facial paralysis. Dehydration. Heart palpi- (♏)

♏Vriska♏: 8e quiet, 8ook8rain! I’m trying to rifle through memories here and it’s a MESS!

Interfacing: We haven’t quite organized since our recent… restructuring. Try the thought cabinet.

Rhetoric: Don’t tell her that!

♏Vriska♏: Too late, sucker! Found it!

♏Vriska♏: …

♏Vriska♏: Jegus christ.

♏Vriska♏: In pu8lic? Why would you—

♏Vriska♏: Ugh!

♏Vriska♏: You said THAT?

♏Vriska♏: There was a8solutely no reason to do ANY of that, what the hell!

♏Vriska♏: You should honestly just kill yourself if you’re going to keep 8eing such a fuckup!

Reaction Speed: Yes!

Logic: Sound. You should kill yourself.

Empathy: It would make everyone feel better.

Endurance: Hasn’t this all gone on long enough?

Savoir Faire: It’s a hell of a statement.

Drama: The noble sacrifice, like Romeo, like Juliet!

Rhetoric: You should kill yourself NOW!

Authority: She has bested you. Listen to your better.

Half Light: Anything to get away from her.

Volition: …

♏Vriska♏: Can you creeps 8e normal for two damn seconds?

MORALE CRITICAL

The light fades from your eyes, and you fall to the floor.

Shivers: You are being called back where you belong....

—

Kim: Yes, Lieutenant. A fascinating dream. I’m sorry you did not win the competition.

Harry: What do you think it means, Kim? Do you think it could be some kind of message? Should I try to find that girl?

Kim: “That girl?”

Harry: Yeah! Vriska!

Kim: No, Lieutenant. I do not think you should go looking for Vriska Serket from Homestuck. Perhaps try looking for the killer in our murder case?

#disco elysium #homestuck #vriska serket #harry du bois #little meow meow

2K notes · View notes

rogueddie · 2 years

Text

Steve needs to be touched.

He's not sure how he didn't notice sooner. Didn't really realize until his skin almost itches with it. Until he notices how he will almost chase any physical affection without thinking. But by then, it already feels too late to really do anything about it.

Luckily, Eddie and Robin are both physically affectionate people. They use any opportunity to invade his personal space, any excuse to throw an arm around his shoulders or nudge his shoulder with their own. They're always in his space so much that, at some point, he starts to expect it from them.

It only makes him more painfully aware of Eddie slowly trying to pull back, to pull away. To put some distance between them.

Steve wonders if it's becoming obvious how needy he's become. He had thought he'd been a little subtle about it- he goes straight to him and Robin whenever he starts to feel that itch, that need for contact, but they all have so much trauma that no one bats an eye. But if Eddie has noticed and thinks its... weird or uncomfortable...

He doesn't say any of this to Robin when he tries to ask her what's wrong though. It's less... asking. He basically just waits for a quiet moment to wonder; "I hope I haven't done anything to upset Eddie. He's been pulling away a lot recently."

"Steve," Robin looks a little guilty. "He's fine. You haven't don't anything. Don't worry about it, ok?"

Don't worry about it? Steve frowns.

"You talk to him? It's... I mean, it's only me then, right? I haven't fucked up too bad, have I?"

Robin grabs his shoulders. "Steve. You didn't fuck anything up. He just needs some space right now. I'm the one who told him to back off a little with you. I think it's something you both need. Ok?"

"You told him to back off?"

"Yeah, and you trust me, right?"

"Of course I do."

She nods, gives him a lopsided grin and heads to the backroom to "actually do my stupid job for once!"

Steve tries not to curl in on himself. Tries not to jump to conclusions, but... why else would she tell Eddie to back off? But that means that she's noticed how weirdly clingy he is too. She must be ok with it though... right? She told Eddie to back off, she hasn't tried to do that herself. If anything, she's been a little more physically affectionate.

So he's been making Eddie uncomfortable. He has fucked it up. Robin is just trying to be nice.

The next time he sees Eddie, it's almost too much. Knowing that he's making Eddie uncomfortable won't leave his mind, making him painfully aware of what he's doing, making sure he also keeps his distance. He won't make Eddie more uncomfortable- he's a great guy, he deserves so much better than that.

But it is too much. So Steve starts to avoid him entirely. It's easier, even though it means he has to avoid group hangouts. Even though he feels lonelier than ever. It's easier than having Eddie right there.

He can tell that the others are starting to worry about him. Even Eddie, apparently, is worried. But he keeps dismissing it all. Brushes them off. Falls back on the excuses and tactics he'd use on Tommy. It's not good, he's too cruel sometimes, but it gets them to back off.

Of course, that doesn't last long.

He wasn't fully awake when he pulled open the door and, as soon as the door opens, Eddie shoves his way inside. He ignores Steves complaints, sitting on the sofas armrest, quickly settling down with his arms crossed. He raises an eyebrow at Steve, who is still hovering in the doorway.

Steve reluctantly closes the door. He doesn't sit down. "What do you want?"

"I was about to ask you the same. What the hell is wrong with you, Steve? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine. No, actually, I'm tired. Maybe you should leave so I can fix that."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "You're lying."

"So?"

"So? Fucking hell, dude, I thought you were better than this! Or was that a phase? Miss being King Steve too much, huh?"

Steve flinches at the nickname. "I'm trying to deal with some shit right now. Being around you guys is only making it harder, so I'm taking some time alone to work through it. I'll be fine, I just need some time."

"Time for what?"

Steve grits his teeth. Even if he were willing to talk about it, explaining that he's trying to forget what it felt like to have Eddies hand on his shoulder is too embarrassing to admit.

"Steve, come on," Eddie tries, stands up and walks closer. "Talk to me. Please, I just want to help."

His hand is so gently on Steves arm. He just wants to curl up in the touch, even as small as it is.

He feels shame boil under his skin when his face scrunches up, hating how visibly close he is to crying. Especially with how soft Eddies voice gets, with how he pulls Steve closer so he can hug him, wrapping him up in his arms. Steve can't help but hug him back, gripping the back of his top tight, shaking.

"It's ok, you're ok, I've got you," Eddie is saying. He tucks his face into Steves shoulder, gently rocking them. "Whatever it is, you don't need to be alone, ok? I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Steve finally sobs. He hates how his voice cracks.

"You don't make me uncomfortable. You've never made me feel uncomfortable, I promise. I don't think you could if you tried, sweetheart."

"But Robin- she told you to back off?"

"Yeah, but that- that's nothing to do with you, ok? You didn't do anything wrong. That wasn't your fault."

He waits, but Steve doesn't respond. If anything, he feels more tense.

"Ok, Steve, come on, hey." Eddie gently pushes Steve away, holds him by his shoulders so he has to look at him. "That wasn't your fault."

"So why were you pulling away?"

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Robin didn't want me stressing myself out, worrying all the time."

"Why would I be uncomfortable?"

"Steve. I'm gay."

"Yeah? I do listen when you talk, man, I don't need a reminder."

"No, that-" Eddie snorts, shaking his head. "I'm gay and you're pretty. And nice. And you're always curling up on me like a fucking cat. Did you really not realize?"

"Oh." Steve blinks. He isn't sure what he's feeling, but it definitely isn't negative. "Really? Me?"

"Yeah, Stevie, you. I thought you'd noticed. I stare at your lips a lot. Even the kids noticed. Like I said, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. It's one thing to be ok with a dude being gay, it's another for that dude to be crushing on you. I get it if you don't feel comfortable with any of that shit."

"No, it... it's not making me feel uncomfortable."

"Ok. That's good? Right? How is it making you feel?"

Steve fiddles with the hem of his top, face heating up. "Uh. Nice, I guess? I don't know. But not, like, bad."

"Nice as in... it's nice to feel wanted?" Eddie glances down to his lips- this time, Steve notices.

"No, um... I don't know. I didn't really think you'd ever want to look at me like that. It's nice." Steve shifts, hesitating. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing, but he really wants to admit it... "I, uh... I think I want you to look at me like that."

"Steve, please, you need to elaborate. I don't want to read this wrong. Why do you want me to look at you like that?"

"It's... uh..."

Eddie steps a little closer, gently reaching out to hold his hand. "Steve. Why do you want me to look at you like that?"

"Because that's how I look at you," Steve whispers. The thought is a little shocking, even to him- but it's true. "Oh."

Eddies thumb rubs a little circle on the back of his hand. It's nice, comforting. "Steve, I'm gonna kiss you now. Is that ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, yes, that's ok, please."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #ficlet #I'm pretty sure I was aiming for something else at the start but #this is what it devolved into so 🤷‍♂️#hurtcomfort

4K notes · View notes