#“you’re just you. and i think you’re pretty cool”

[vifilms]

THEY CALL ME HOMEWRECKER

pairing. established!cait x reader ft. older!vi

content warning. eighteen+, some freaky toxic shit, caitlyn lowkey a bad girlfriend, reader a freak, and violet’s just there for a good time, ooc!vi mostly, strap!sex, threesome, jealousy, cheating, some good ‘ole drama, public!sex, slight voyeurism if you squint.

#thank u to my boo @sinstear for helping me facilitate this madness and giving me even more ideas for it. and for @shouyuus for always supporting my gay panicking. still crying about it. as always, eighteen+.

since the two of you were struggling financially, you’ve always stuck by caitlyn’s side. throughout all of her business endeavors, one finally stuck, the restaurant on avenue street, and god is it ever so booming. weeks of hectic hours turn into months of hardly seeing her due to her schedule always being on the flipside of hers.

all of it was so excruciating.

over the past few months, the cracks of your relationship fall over like a tsunami waves, crashing repeatedly into the shore. you try to talk about it with her — the two days out of the week when you actually see her — but she’s always too tired.

too this.

too that.

nothing you do is ever enough. it doesn’t matter if you set the mood just right, candles light with rose petals on the bed, buying a new lingerie set to attempt to peak your girlfriend’s interest.

“baby, it’s been months since we’ve had sex? do you just not want me anymore? caitlyn reassure you she does but makes no move to give you the relief you’re so desperately seeking. deadly kisses turn stale in your mouth, the bitterness of her stagnant need tastes like the dark chocolate on your tongue.

“just—“ caitlyn grunts as she gently shoves you off as her back turn away from you “not tonight.”

you’re so close to cry, to calling this relationship for what is, a colossal failure. deciding to cool down before offering her the proposition, the one you’ve been thinking about for a while now. no matter what you do, you love cait too much to call it quits. you have to fight for who you love, no matter the cost. this is the only choice you can make…right?

droplets kiss your skin, an oversized shirt hits your thighs as your feet pad away from the cool tile, the dampness of your hair touches the cotton as she looks at you, exhaustion written all over her gorgeous face.

“what if we opened this up? let someone…in.”

shyly, you mumble. and you expect some lewd response, anger, a finality to the end but you’re met with relief. “i think that’s a great idea, love.”

but caitlyn would live to regret those words. “just one night with someone else.”

the both of you agree.

all of it happened organically, that’s what you were her for. caitlyn was close and made sure not to hover. the stipulation being the two of you had to be attracted to whoever came home with the two of you. it’s when you spot her, checking you out from the other side of the bar.

“hi, cupcake.” her voice is sultry but her rasp velvet smooth.

“o-oh, u-um, hi—” you readjust shirt, the swell of your breasts threatening to spill from the tight top you’re wearing. she’s the hottest woman you’ve ever seen. soft lines on her face to resemble her age, but fuck, she’s so pretty.

powder-blue eyes resembling the sky as she checks you out from head to toe, unable to keep her eyes off of you. she can’t stop looking at you as you squirm underneath her blunt gaze.

“who’s the blue haired woman behind you? girlfriend? she looks like she wants to kill me for getting so close to you.” with a fierce sense of confidence running through her veins, she plays with the pretty silver chain hanging from your neck.

“she is my girlfriend but we have an understanding.” the nerves from your initial impression of her dissipate, as you step closer to her. “we’re on the hunt for someone to fuck our brains out, especially mine it’s been a little too long.”

"how long?"

the curoisty slips out before she can help herself, eyes falling back on your tits again again as you cross your arms over your chest, tongue running over your lips as the tattoo peeking out from her the underside of her neck.

“long enough.”

but caitlyn interjects, slithering her way as she immediately starts caressing the mystery woman’s forearm. it’s difficult to pretend there isn’t a sting in your chest when she so easily touches someone else without a second thought.

it isn’t fair, that’s all you’ve wanted, an ounce of her affection but it seems it just takes a certain kind of woman to get her going. on that doesn’t love her the way you do, one that’s hotter, sexier, and definitely has more experience than you.

caitlyn is all over her, all night. vi, as you’ve come to learn, is much older than you and cait, more successful than you could ever dream of, and she damn sure knows how to sweet talk. you can’t help but feel a little left out as you sip on your martini, courtesy of vi.

excusing yourself to freshen up, not that you believe either of them would notice, you wash your hands, splash some water on your cold face to calm yourself. it’s crystal clear, she always wanted to have sex, just never with you.

there she stands, proud and tall, with hope in her eyes like she’s found the missing piece of her puzzle. “so, she’s perfect, right? i mean we really hit it off. the both of us, right?”

you nod, “yeah, sounds perfect, cait.” but she’s too fucking horny too nice the clip to her name or the bitterness in your tone. she’ll have her fill and you’ll be stuck on the sidelines, again. she’ll do anything but acknowledge this relationship for the farce it is.

you should have known, all the signs right in front of you to see, and now it all it took a pink-haired goddess to show you the light. she’ll get her pussy wet for anyone who isn’t you.

“great! i’ll tell her. i’m so glad we decided to do this, love.”

love.

the irony of her burning affection nearly causes you to throw up.

still, you’re incessantly scrubbing at your hands, the skin feels raw, the top of your fingers wrinkling like prunes. the last thing you want to do is meet them out there. the gorgeously, very-fuckable stranger who your girlfriend can’t get enough of. you should have just done the right thing, put the relationship to bed along with the rest of your dignity. now you’d have to watch who you thought was the love of your life, get off right in front of you.

then she’s here. vi. with her beautiful face, her cologne that smells of vanilla and mahogany, her perfectly fit body, making you feel more insecure than you’ve ever been.

“you alright, princess? if you have second thoughts just say the word…”

“nope.”

with a violent urgency, you keep scrubbing the soap into your absolutely clean hands, bending over the counter slightly to rinse them when you feel her behind you, gripping at your hips. she reaches over to shut the water off, handing you a few paper towels to dry your hands.

what the fuck is she playing at? why isn’t she sucking caitlyn’s face off?

“i have something else in mind—” vi leans over as her hot breath kisses your ear, “and it has to do with this pretty, little skirt on the floor.”

“oh, vi, we should really go and meet caitlyn, she—” but you can’t talk, not when she starts stroking the silky skin of your thigh, pushing the hem of your skirt up just a hair.

“you sure about that?” vi crawls her playful hand underneath the hem, playing with the panties covering your cunt, teasing your slit through the delicate lace. “i had my eyes set on something i want to try first.”

“o-oh…kay, well, it’s really not the best idea. please, can we—"

“so you really want to princess? something tells me, you’re dying to have this pussy eaten, fucked….stretched. i have a perfect hot pink cock for you to get fucked with, a mouth to please you, and a good set of fingers for you to bounce on.”

before you realize what’s she’s doing, her heavenly hands dip inside your panties, splitting your folds like the red sea; as god intended. she groans in your ear when she not only feels, but hears how soaked you’ve become, hot breath setting your body aflame.

“how does that sound, princess? want me to take care of you?” you grind against her pelvis, back arching into her as she slips a lone finger inside you. you moan so high, it nearly sounds like a scream.

“mmm, shit, ahhh, that’s—”

becoming very aware of the public setting, anyone could walk in the door at any given moment, you try to refute but you’re struggling to find the words, as she curls her finger inside you, establishing a steady pace.

“what? don’t think of caitlyn now. she certainly didn’t care before, did she? let me guess…she left you and your vibrator to your own device, pressing on that pretty clit of yours, hoping she’d jump in but she couldn’t.

“she couldn’t do what needs to be done—” vi bites and sucks at your neck, you crane your body towards her in submission, giving the older woman all the access she needs to tear you apart. “but i can give you whatever you fucking want, princess.”

it doesn’t take anything else before you’re attacking the older woman with your lips, her tongue invades your mouth as she surges for dominance, gripping your plump cheeks through the small amount of fabric covering them.

immediately intertwining your finger through her hair as you tug on her roots, as your skirt rides up against almost rising completely as vi pushes you through the first open stall she sees. not giving one flying fuck who hears her.

“needed you first, you know that? couldn’t help myself as soon as i saw you. god, just you wait until tonight.”

you shake your head as she pushes the your skirt to your hip bones, ripping your panties off with one single rip!

“tonight?”

“yes, pretty girl, tonight. m’gonna make her watch while i fuck you on my cock.”

pressing her knee with force in-between your legs, an animalistic moan tumbles out before you could even stop yourself.

“c’mon, ride my thigh, sweet girl. that’s what you want, hm?”

vi’s strength centers you in like gravity, allowing you to slide further up her trousers, your folds fluttering against the friction, allowing the crease of her perfectly-ironed slacks to push against your soaking pussy.

“god, fuck her for not wanting to fuck you. i’ll fuck you all night if you let me.” vi grunts as she watches your body writhe, tits bouncing as chase your high.

“fuuuckkkkk,” you hiccup, so close as she pushes a thumb in your mouth, effectively shutting your mouth for a moment as you suck on the digit. swirling your tongue around her finger, pretending she’s fucking you with a strap instead.

“such a good girl for me.” pulling off with a delectable pop, she presses against your clit, blissful patterns being traced on your bundle of nerves and just with a few strokes you’re done for. falling fast and hard.

“vi, vi, oh fuck, baby, viiii—” a drawl of her name as she abuses the bundle of nerves, the ache for her full attention and freely does vi give it.

you fall into her chest, whimpering as her incessant need to play with your clit does nothing to help you calm down — all she does is rile you up.

fuck, caitlyn.

not a day in your life had you thought of being interested in someone so much older than you, but god you’d never come apart like that. not so quickly and not ever quite as hard. she knew what you liked without uttering a word.

the swipe of her thumb felt like a stroke of god, as if she was one, giving into your mundane pleasure, helping you close in on what seemed like an impossible finish.

this wasn’t part of the deal. shit, you’re so fucked.

“turn around.” you obey.

a pathetic servant willing to get it’s pay.

she slaps your ass once more, a whimper tumbles and vi eats up every second of it.

“how bad do you want my cock, baby?”

“so bad, please.”

“good. you’ll show me…in front of her.”

—

“just like that princess, fuck, you’re so goddamn pretty.”

violet’s hands steady your hips as you ride cait’s cock, the strap stretching you out to the heavens, vi guides you in perfect rhythm. you know you should feel bad, but you can’t stop staring at vi, her perfect eyes gleaming as you moan out her name.

not cait, vi.

“love—” caitlyn’s voice is drown outed when vi is looking at you the way she’s does, the way you’ve been begging your girlfriend too but she only does when there’s someone else giving you what you’ve been desperately craving.

“how does it feel, cupcake?” vi whispers in your ear, “does it feel good when you fuck yourself on her cock?”

without warning, vi slaps your ass as you jolt forward, the silicone cock slipping deeper within you, kissing your cervix as vi keeps her hand on your lower back, guiding your movements.

“f-feels really good, vi.”

vi kisses down your neck, biting at the skin before she presses her scarred lip against your ear.

“i know it does, princess. been wanting this for months, huh? don’t worry about a thing. i’ll take care of you.”

vi smirks as she sees caitlyn stirring with fury, bold pair of blues ignite under the fire of someone else seeing what is so rightfully hers. she hates this, knowing someone else is talking you through it, touching your skin, soft lips kissing the ample skin of your neck.

truthfully, she’s never been a jealous person. as the rises at the break of dawn and sets in the cool evening, caitlyn truly believed she’s the one for you — no one else could dare compete.

it’s caitlyn and you.

but suddenly it doesn’t feel like the two of you against the world.

it’s vi and you, the anxiety bubbling in her stomach feels catastrophic, so she fucks into you, making you squirm with need. but still, you’re so entangled in vi, you don’t even notice her.

the night hadn’t started the way caitlyn planned — or wanted — but she lapped at your cunt as vi instructed her to do so. she’d been vying for an ounce of her attention. truthfully, she’d settle for either one of you, but the two seem to enthralled with one another to even notice her existence.

but fuck, you’re her girlfriend. only hers.

but when you’re close, you ask vi for permission to come. it’s vi’s whose name you scream out when you start falling apart on caitlyn’s cock. it’s vi rubbing your clit, whispering sweet nothing in your ear as you see stars, it’s vi who pulls you into her lap as you cling onto her for dear life, as if caitlyn’s touch feels poisonous.

nothing makes sense.

when caitlyn thinks for a moment, she’ll get an ounce of attention, vi handcuffs her to the chair across the bed.

“what are you doing?” dark blue eyebrows furrow as her, eye squinting harshly.

“you’ll get your turn, be patient.” vi scolds, but she has no intention on following through on her promise. this is to make a mockery her, to show her exactly what’s she been missing.

in the full nude, she walks over to the night stand, grabbing the harness, and makes sure everything is just right for you — the hot pink dildo protrudes, just as she promised. the pink bush she’s sporting matches deliciously as her happy trail follows up her lower abdomen.

caitlyn wants to curse at the wind when you immediately fall in obedience, commands fly off vi’s tongue and you adhere to her wishes. the first has your mouth wrapping around her pink cock, she gently thrusts, lubricating the plastic with your tongue. your hands twisting vi’s pierced nipples, playing with the silver barbell, taking pride and joy when her breath hitches.

“lay on your back for me, yeah?” vi doesn’t waste another beat.

with reckless intent, she slides in, every inch of her saturated in your warmth. you waste no time, fingers woven through her hair like a thread through embroidery. her pink hair becomes nothing more than a leash for you tug on, each powerful thrust to much, too soon — but you also are too terrified to let go.

"take it, princess. just like that—" violet pushes deep, clinging to her broad back, scratches made in tandem when she delivers a brutal pace. "tell her how much you love my cock."

there she sits, jaw slack, mouth open so wide she could catch flies.

vi can't tell if you she's crying and part of her almost feels bed until desperate pleas of her name fall from sanctioned lips. violet smirks as she looks back at caitlyn, waiting for the inevitable moment of her crumble.

there's only so much one girl could take and violet knew she had to be hitting her limit. soft please of, babygirl, falls on ears that only hears vi's instruction. deviously, violet smirks as she watches caitlyn realizes exactly what as going on.

but it's too late.

you're already far out her grip as your grip onto violet for dear life as you come apart on her cock, moaning louder than caitlyn's ever heard.

you're never loud, even when the two of you did have sex, it's always been quiet.

sweet. soft.

nothing about this is tender as your squirt all over her bed sheet, effectively sending violet over the edge from watching you come, fucking you harder as you moan into her neck, sharp teeth sinking into her collarbones.

to sink the final dagger in her heart, you initate violet's lips locking in yours, a smashing of desire reaches it's fateful end. caitlyn watches as you lose yourself in someone else, someone older, wiser — her stomach churns as she desperately tries to break free of the restraints.

she's been made a fool of, a mere mockery just for wanting to try something you suggested. but the jealousy falls around her, she's not strong enough to watch you enjoy getting your brains fucked by someone who has everything.

for the first time in her life, she feels you slipping through her fingers.

"would you stop touching her? this is over. we're done with you, vi. she's my girlfriend, get off her." bitterly, caitlyn sneers.

"oh, she does?"

with a roll of her strong hips, vi thrusts deep into your pussy, you clench around her, arching your back as you cry out for your lover's touch.

"well, i hate to be the barrier of bad news, but she's not done which means neither am i. so, enjoy the show, cait. you sure have paid a pretty penny for it."

[shy-writer-999]

Subby Ace + aphrodisiacs: your top turned bottom!

Summary: Poor Ace has gotten into something with sex pollen in it. He's a mess and you're the only person who can help him. There's something delightful about seeing your very dominant boyfriend reduced to begging, whining, and even crying for a crumb of your pleasure. CW: straight up SMUT. very very pathetic needy filthy whiny ace. afab reader w/gendered language ('princess'); sex, edging, masturbation, blow job, hand job, dacryphilia, overstimulation, you name it. countless orgasms from ace, use of 'good boy' and 'pretty boy.' minors do not interact - nsfw content!

Ace is so dramatic and sensitive in bed. It gets worse when he goes on an outing by himself, and just so happens to get exposed to some form of sex pollen. He staggers back to the ship and comes straight to you.

He just won’t stop cumming. He can’t stop cumming.

His face is twisted up in anguish and he’s frowning, genuinely so miserable you think he’s about to cry.

“Baby, please help me, I’m going crazy.”

His erection looks bigger than usual—you didn’t think that was possible, and for a split second you’re worried that it won’t fit at all. But of course it will. It has fit countless times before.

“I need you. I’m begging you, sweetheart, please.” He frowns and does puppy dog eyes at you. Your heart melts, but you have to set him straight.

“Ace,” you tut. “You don’t ever need to beg for me.”

“Can I, though?” He smiles back, and it looks like a bit of a grimace.

“I’ll allow it. But you have to do what I say, okay?”

Ace nods. “Of course.” He’s thrilled at the idea of you being in control.

You sit down on the bed next to him and rest a hand on his thigh. He flinches.

“Fuck.” You can see his cock jump through the fabric of his underwear.

A simple hand on his skin like this is enough to make him squirm? It’s going to be a fun night. He looks pathetic and miserable right now. His brows are bent at the middle and he’s doing the cutest, saddest little pout you’ve ever seen.

“Touch me more, beautiful,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, mouth hanging open in concentration. His mind is fixated how your cool skin feels against his, how soft your hand is, how close you are to his throbbing hard on.

Your fingers wander over his skin, conjuring goosebumps and shudders, eliciting whimpering sounds from Ace’s pretty lips. The whimpers quickly turn into muted sounds of pleasure.

Precum seeps through the fabric of his underwear and you pity him, reaching your fingers upwards to pull the waistband down. When his cock springs out, sure enough, it’s bigger than usual, a fact which is both troubling and tantalizing.

The tip of his long shaft is red, inflamed, and defined. It glistens in the light from the dim lamp in the corner of his cabin, highlighting the precum that smears his head and continues to seep out—it’s a ridiculous amount of precum. You’ve never seen this much before.

You take a moment to admire him. Your eyes wander from his erection to his defined abs and dark, thin happy trail. Your eyes meet his. His pupils are huge and there’s a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead that mats down the hair around his temples.

Ace is trying not to be impatient, but it’s hard because his body is screaming for attention.

“Please, princess. Use me. Do anything you want to me.” His voice comes out as a whisper, tinted in reverence, and bathed in lust.

When you hum in reply, you stand up, slipping off your underwear and bra. He scoots back onto the pillows and his thighs widen while you get on top of him. Your lower yourself down to sit on top of his erection. You don’t fuck him yet, though. You just lay his shaft flat on your core and stay there for a second.

Some teasing couldn’t hurt. So, you slowly start to roll your hips, rubbing yourself on Ace’s wet shaft. It’s starting to get you worked up, too, and before you know it, you’re soaking wet.

Gasp after gasp tumbles out of his mouth and no less than thirty seconds later, he starts to seize up below you, cumming on his lower abdomen. His breaths are shallow and ragged, and he’s lying there panting.

“Don’t stop,” he chokes out, again begging for something he knows he’ll get if he only waits patiently. “Please don’t stop.”

“Poor thing.” You lean down and kiss him. Even the mere feeling of your lips on his makes him let out the softest groan. He feels like his whole body is on fire, but it’s in a way he’s never felt before, different from the logia fire he’s so accustomed to.

His kisses quickly turn greedy and sloppy, and every drag of your aching core over his cock makes him let out repressed puffs of air in your mouth. Soon, he’s moaning straight into your mouth.

God, he’s so worked up it’s starting to be more fun than you imagined.

Lining up his sticky wet tip with your entrance, you finally start to sink down onto his cock, going deliberately slow so he doesn’t cum again (yet). But when he bottoms out, his hips buck up inadvertently, hitting your gooey hot spot inside.

“F-fuck, fuck,” Ace groans again. “Feels, ah, feels so good.”

He’s practically keening at this point, back almost arching off the bed, fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You start to ride him slowly. Whatever way feels best. Sometimes you pull yourself up his shaft so only the tip is inside and plunge it back in, other times you keep him inside of you and grind your hips back and forth. One moment, you brace your hands on his chest for more leverage; the next moment, you lean in and kiss his neck, leaving love bites in a trail from his neck to his shoulder. The contact draws out a body-wracking moan from the dark-haired man beneath you—the sounds he’s making are delicious.

He cums aggressively again, hips jerking upwards. Each press of his cock up hits your g-spot and when he feels your body shift in response it drives him crazier.

Ace’s fingers are pulling you downwards, pushing himself deeper inside of you.

“Need more,” he chokes out.

When your legs start to burn, he does all the work for you. Muscly, rough hands come under your thighs, moving you effortlessly up and down until you’re the one cumming, writhing in ecstasy on top of him.

But Ace still doesn’t want to stop. “Keep going, please.”

He has the habit of saying please in bed. It’s endearing. When he asks so nicely, it’s hard to say no.

So, your hips move more. And more. And more. Until they’re numb and he’s fucking you stupid.

You’ve collapsed on top of him now, mewling in his neck from each thrust. “C’mon baby, give me another.” You murmur in his ear, voice seductive and honeyed. It’s all he needs to hear before he literally cums on command.

He’s usually an animal in bed. Buy boy, whatever sex pollen or aphrodisiac he ran into today is doing a number on him. You, very obviously, have no issue with it.

Feral sounds escape his lips while Ace pumps more of his hot seed inside. It’s seeping out of you, creeping down the sides of his body, and saturating the fabric of the bedspread below him. It’s going to leave a massive, milky-white stain. And he isn’t done yet.

“Keep going,” he looks absolutely pathetic. “Please, please, I—I’m going crazy.” He can barely get the words out, so pussydrunk and out of it that he’s on the verge of drooling.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Missionary. But you’re going to go nice and slow, okay?”

Ace nods vigorously in return. He repositions. One of his warm hands is on your waist now, while the other gropes upwards to massage and caress your chest.

He takes his time, just like you told him. From this angle, you can see his face more—and it’s glistening, evidently he’s been crying. He’s been crying because of how good it feels. Something about the idea is wildly erotic. He wants pleasure so badly that he’s begging and crying over it, literal tears from those pretty brown eyes.

Every orgasm feels better than the last. He shoots more seed inside of you again, quickly, almost immediately upon entering you. But there’s a rebound period before his second orgasm where you decide to be a bit cruel.

“Slower, Ace.”

He complies, hips shaking, moving centimeters at a time. There’s so much cum inside of you that it’s almost sloshing out, squelching so loud you’re thankful no one is around to hear. His eyes are glued to where the cum seeps out of you, drinking up the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with every pass.

Gravelly, obscene groans tumble out from him every second—it’s almost a constant stream.

“Wanna go faster,” he rasps, eyes snapping up to yours. You see more tears gathering on his lash line.

“Not yet, baby. Be a good boy and wait for it, okay?”

When he hears you call him that—good boy—a strangled sounding gasp erupts from his lips and his hips shudder. “Fuuuuhhhccckkk.”

Desperate, heaving breaths accompany his extreme efforts. He’s trying not to cum, trying not to buck and rut haphazardly and mindlessly into your cunt like some animal in heat.

A couple more moments of agonizing slowness pass. When you’ve decided he’s behaved, and when you’re similarly desperate enough, you give him the go ahead.

“Faster.”

His hips snap into action and he’s cumming again within a couple seconds. It’s amazing that he still has cum to give, that he’s not completely shooting blanks at this point, that he hasn’t drained his balls completely yet. But, surely, he’ll get there.

“Mmmpppphhhh,” he moans, deafeningly loud. “Ah, ah, fuck, f-feels so good, fuck.”

“Keep going, ‘m close,” you keen his name and his hips pick up the pace. Each time his cock pushes on your sweet spot it makes you see stars. You’re getting close and he’s getting overstimulated.

When you cum again the pleasure is white-hot and euphoric, buzzing every nerve in your body. Ace does the same—he’s too sensitive, can’t handle the feeling of your walls squeezing and milking him for long before he’s careening into his own wave of euphoria.

He slows down and starts to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He’s sweaty and his body is hot. Looks like the sex pollen is making his devil fruit powers a bit harder to control.

“You want some more, handsome?” You ask, and he nods eagerly. When you move from underneath him, you ask him to lay on his back. Rifling through a bedside drawer, you bring out your vibrator. You usually keep it in his cabin because that’s where you get the most use out of it. But today, instead of using it on yourself, you’re going to try something new.

While you’re grabbing the toy, Ace reaches a hand down to start touching himself but you tell him to knock it off.

“You need to sit there and be good for me. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum unless I say so, okay?”

When he hears your stern tone, Ace puts his hands behind his head, and peers down to see what happens next. It’s hard for him to stay still, but he tries his very best.

Situating yourself between his thick thighs, you turn the vibrator on and bring it to the head of Ace’s cock. He almost immediately starts to seize up. He’s going to cum again. But where would the fun be if you just let him?

You take the vibrator away and frown. “Do I need to tell you again? Don’t cum until I say so, sweetheart.”

He pouts and nods. You bring the vibrator back and put it on the lowest setting setting. He’s hardly holding on as is, but when you turn the vibrator’s speed up, he starts to writhe in pleasure.

“’m close,” he whines, biting his lip.

You take the vibrator off again, met with a strangled sounding cry of frustration from Ace. He takes a few minutes to cool back down until he’s ready for you to start again.

Twenty, no, thirty minutes pass like this until he’s on the verge of tears again. When you finally let him have it, he asks so nicely. It’s not like he hasn’t been asking nicely before, but this time his voice cracks and you can see the tears in his lash line.

“C-can I please, please cum?” He’s being so sweet and needy. It’s crazy to think this is the strong, courageous man who has protected you countless times. Reduced to a sniveling mess, asking for another orgasm.

You say yes. He’s being so polite, so why not?

After this orgasm, he’s almost ready to tap out. He can use his safe word, obviously but… he really doesn’t want to. It feels too good. He’ll keep going for as long as he physically can.

“You still have another couple to give me, right? Don’t you want to be good for me and keep going?” You say, looking up from between his thighs. The tip of his cock is inflamed from the relentless vibrating, and his abdomen is coated in a sheen of his own cum. He’s at the point where he doesn’t care about anything, fucked-out with his mind empty.

When he nods his head mindlessly, you take your turn. You sink down on his cock (again) and ride him for as long as it takes you to orgasm. For the record, it doesn’t take long, but Ace has lost track of time.

He’s being louder than usual. Every few seconds he lets out some form of a whine, a whimper, a “fuck,” a “please,” or a “’s too much.” His cheeks are bright red, accentuating those cute freckles, and his eyes are half-lidded. He’s so handsome it makes your stomach flip. He’s falling apart with minimal effort, and he’s all hands, too. He grabs handfuls of the plush skin of your hips and ass, kneading and getting himself more wound up.

Ace cums once while you’re working up to your own orgasm, then again when you’re cumming on his cock, and then a third time, when you pull yourself off his length and wrap a hand around his shaft. Every time he cums, you encourage and praise him. It drives him crazier.

“There’s a good boy,” you say. “Keep going for me. Don’t stop.”

You talk dirty to him while you give him one very long hand job. He eats it up, loves the idea of you speaking filth to nobody but him. Before you started seeing each other, he couldn’t imagine you had this sort of mouth on you—not in his wildest dreams. It’s his delight every time you’re in bed that you feel comfortable enough with him to talk like this.

“You’re just too sweet I can’t stop Ace,” your voice oozes in desire. “And you’re being so good for me.”

“’s good?” He slurs, holding your eye contact as much as he can manage.

“Mmmhm. Tell me what it feels like. Use your words, okay?”

His eyes flutter and his voice comes out as a whisper. “So good. F-feels so fucking good.”

You coo in his ear and bite his earlobe softly. “Don’t I always make you feel so good?” He nods in a silent reply, rocking his hips up to fuck himself with your fist.

As you milk more cum from him, he reaches a hand up—you initially think he’s going for your chest, but his hand falls on your cheek and he attempts to pull you into a kiss. He’s a bit weak in his current state, so you oblige him by leaning in.

It’s just gut-wrenchingly cute of him to be fucked dumb like this and still want to get kisses from you. He’s just thanking his lucky stars that you, of all people, is who he ended up with.

While you explore his mouth with your tongue, and cup his face with your free hand, his heart feels like it’s going to burst.

He cums again. The fact that he still has cum to give is preposterous in itself. You’ve lost track of time at this point, too.

You make him eat you out and he’s (understandingly) sloppy with it. His hot mouth feels just right on your core, and he pays just enough attention to your clit. Feeling you pull on his hair makes him feel more aroused than he thought possible.

So, he’s ready to fuck you again. He goes for another round in missionary, then puts you into a mating press. Afterwards, he gets tuckered out and you figure that he has one good one left in him, or, rather, he probably has more to give but he really should give it a rest after that. It would be way too cruel to make him keep going after this one, right? You’ll decide the answer to this question after he cums for you again.

“One more, Ace,” you pet his ruffled up hair and grace him with kisses. “You can do that for me, can’t you, pretty boy?”

He nods obediently.

“There you go,” you purr and start to trace your lips down his abdomen, licking up a small portion of the very large mess he’s made on himself.

His eyes widen as he realizes he’s about to get one of his very favorite things—a blowjob from none other than yourself.

He lifts his head up and watches in awe as you lick a long stripe up his shaft and then take him whole, hollowing your cheeks before you start to suck him off. You’re gentle at first, until he starts moaning louder, then you figure fuck it, he can cum. You let him off easy this time. He’s just been so good for you.

When you look up from your position between his legs, you make eye contact, nod, and then hum. It sends him over the edge. Ace’s fingers snake into your hair and he holds your head down as he cums down your throat.

“C-cumming, ‘m cumming, ah, fuck, fuhhhcckkk that feels good,” his groans are harsh and loud.

He’s so sweet afterwards that it’s heart melting. You know that he must be tired, but he doesn’t act the part. Not when you’ve been so good to him, when you’ve praised him, taken your time with him, coddled and kissed him. It almost makes you feel guilty how affectionate he is.

Pulling into you a long, tender kiss, he so sweetly says, “fuck, you’re perfect. I can’t believe someone like me gets to be with someone like you.”

You cup his cheeks and tell him to cut it out. Of course someone like him gets to be with someone like you. He’s perfect, after all. You cuddle him in bed for a while before he, again, very politely, asks if you’d help clean him up. He’s positively covered in cum and doesn’t want to stain anything else more than he already has. Seems like this is another pair of bedsheets that can be considered properly soiled. Not like that will stop you from doing the same thing in the future.

Now, where did he come across that sex pollen again?

this style of writing for me (when i just write straight up smut with no plot) is akin to a sort of slop. i am the lunch lady handing out scoops of questionable and most likely unsatisfying mush BUT sometimes on a good day it is delicious... i can only hope the slop today did not disappoint... >_> cant say this one is my absolute fave so apologies if it's trash T-T but i love the idea of him being so whiny like this..!!

check out my masterlist and also the best piece i've written on ace so far, if you liked this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

taglist @eggrollforyou

[ducksido]

Babysitting Cheka With Leona

The sun blazed overhead, pouring golden light over the Savannaclaw dorm as Y/N and Leona lounged on the soft grass near the dorm gardens. Well, "lounged" wasn't quite the right word—Leona was sprawled across the ground, arm draped over his face to shield his eyes, while Y/N sat beside him, cross-legged and enjoying the rare moment of peace.

It didn’t last long.

“Unca Leona!”

The sound of small feet pounding against the ground reached their ears, and both looked up just in time to see Cheka barrelling toward them. Y/N had only a second to brace themselves before the lion cub tackled them into an enthusiastic hug.

“Y/N! You’re here too! That’s so cool!” Cheka exclaimed, his amber eyes sparkling as he looked up at them.

Leona groaned from his spot on the ground, muttering something about cubs being "too hyper for their own good." He made no move to get up.

“What’s the occasion, Cheka?” Y/N asked, ruffling his fluffy hair.

“Papa and Mama had to go to a meeting, so I get to hang out with Unca Leona today!” Cheka beamed before his expression turned pleading. “Can we play a game? Please?”

Leona finally peeled one eye open, glancing at Cheka with a mixture of exasperation and resignation. “Don’t you have someone else to bother, runt?”

“Leona,” Y/N said with a playful smirk, “he’s just a kid. Don’t be so grumpy.”

Leona groaned again, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Fine. What game?”

Cheka gasped with excitement. “Hide and seek! You’re it, Unca Leona!”

Without waiting for a response, the cub darted off, dragging Y/N along by the hand. Y/N shot Leona an apologetic look over their shoulder, but the beastman just waved them off, muttering, “You’re on your own, herbivore.”

The game went about as expected. Cheka hid in the most obvious spots, giggling loudly and making it impossible for Y/N to miss him. Still, they played along, pretending to search high and low before "finding" him in the bushes or behind a tree.

Leona watched from a distance, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, his emerald eyes following Y/N’s every move. There was something about the way they laughed and indulged Cheka's antics that made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t quite ready to admit.

Eventually, the game wound down, and Cheka declared himself the winner. Y/N collapsed onto the grass, panting but grinning as Cheka plopped down beside them.

“You’re really good at hide and seek, Y/N!” the cub said, his tail swishing happily.

“Thanks, Cheka. You’re a tough opponent,” Y/N replied, ruffling his hair again.

Leona finally joined them, sitting down with a dramatic sigh. “You tired yourself out already, runt?”

“No way! But Y/N looks tired, so we should rest.” Cheka cuddled up to Y/N, his small frame warm against their side.

Leona’s gaze softened as he watched the scene. Without thinking, he reached out and flicked Y/N’s forehead lightly.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, rubbing the spot.

“You’re too soft,” Leona said, but there was no real bite in his words. “Letting the kid run you ragged like that.”

Y/N rolled their eyes. “Oh, please. You enjoyed watching us play, admit it.”

Leona smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it.”

Cheka’s eyelids were drooping, and he yawned, snuggling closer to Y/N. “You’re the best, Y/N… And Unca Leona is pretty cool too.”

Leona’s ears twitched, and he looked away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

As Cheka’s breathing evened out, Y/N laid back on the grass, the little lion cub nestled between them and Leona. The warm afternoon sun made it impossible to resist the pull of sleep. Y/N glanced at Leona, their smile soft.

“You know, you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

“Tch. Don’t start,” Leona muttered, but his hand brushed against theirs, his fingers curling around Y/N’s in a quiet acknowledgment.

For a while, the three of them lay there, the world still except for the gentle rustle of leaves and Cheka’s soft snores. Leona’s hand lingered against Y/N’s, his thumb absently brushing their skin.

“I don’t get why you’re always so patient with him,” Leona said after a long moment, his voice quieter than usual.

Y/N tilted their head toward him, meeting his gaze. “Because he’s a good kid. And he adores you, Leona, even if you try to act like you don’t care.”

Leona scoffed, though there was no malice behind it. “Adoration’s overrated.”

“Not when it’s earned,” Y/N replied, their tone gentle.

Leona didn’t respond right away, but his eyes softened, the usual sharpness giving way to something deeper. His grip on Y/N’s hand tightened ever so slightly.

“You’re a handful too, you know,” he said, his voice low, almost fond.

“Is that so?” Y/N teased, their smile growing.

Leona leaned in, his forehead briefly touching theirs. “Yeah. But I don’t mind.”

It wasn’t much—a fleeting gesture, unspoken words tucked between their fingers—but it was enough.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in hues of amber and gold, Y/N drifted off to the sound of Leona’s steady breathing and the comforting warmth of his hand in theirs.

And for the first time in a long while, Leona thought that maybe, just maybe, moments like this weren’t so bad after all.

[slaytheday12]

you being a famous actress and walker gets caught saving edits of you

Caught in 4K

Being a famous actress at 16 was equal parts thrilling and exhausting. You loved acting, loved the magic of bringing stories to life, but the constant attention that came with it? That was something you were still getting used to. The interviews, the photoshoots, the premieres it was all a whirlwind.

But what you hadn’t expected was for Walker Scobell yes, the star of the Percy Jackson series and everyone’s favorite funny guy to get caught in the chaos of your fame.

It started innocently enough. You’d met Walker briefly at a comic-con event a few months ago. You were there promoting your latest film, and he was there hyping up his role as Percy. You were both part of a panel featuring young Hollywood stars, and you hit it off almost immediately. Walker’s goofy humor paired with his genuine kindness made him easy to talk to, and by the end of the day, you’d exchanged numbers.

Since then, you’d kept in casual contact—mostly lighthearted texts and the occasional comment on each other’s Instagram posts. You liked him. Maybe more than you were willing to admit. But with both of your schedules, it was hard to imagine anything more than a friendship.

That was, until one fateful Saturday afternoon when Walker decided to go live on Instagram.

You weren’t watching at first. You were curled up on your couch, scrolling through TikTok and eating a bowl of cereal. But then your phone buzzed with notifications. And kept buzzing.

The texts from your friends were frantic:

Erick: OMG ARE YOU SEEING THIS? Lydia: HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS ICONIC. CHECK TWITTER.

Confused, you opened Twitter and immediately saw your name trending. Clicking the hashtag, you were greeted with a flood of screenshots and screen recordings. Apparently, during Walker’s livestream, he’d been scrolling through his tabs, trying to show his fans a funny meme. But instead of a meme, he’d accidentally revealed his camera roll.

And there, for all the world to see, were saved edits of you. The internet had exploded.

“WALKER SCOBELL SAVING Y/N EDITS??? I’M SCREAMING.” “Not him being just like us 🥹😭.” “We lost him.”

You couldn’t stop laughing as you scrolled through the memes and reactions. It was embarrassing for him, sure, but also kind of… sweet? He’d always been one of your biggest supporters, hyping you up in interviews and talking about how talented you were. But saving edits? That was next-level fan behavior.

Your phone buzzed again. A text from Walker.

Walker: So… uh… about my camera roll. You: Oh, you mean the part where the entire internet found out you’re my biggest fan? Yeah, I saw it. 😂 Walker: In my defense, those edits were really well-done. You: Sure, sure. It had nothing to do with me being in them, right? 😉 Walker: …Okay, fine. Maybe I think you’re cool. And talented. And pretty.

Your heart skipped a beat. You tried to play it cool, though.

You: Walker Scobell, are you flirting with me? Walker: Is it working? You: …Maybe.

The conversation continued, playful and teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something real beneath the banter.

Later that night, Walker posted a follow-up story on Instagram, addressing the incident.

“So, yeah, I got caught saving edits of Y/N. And, honestly? I regret nothing. She’s awesome, okay? If you were me, wouldn’t you save those edits too?”

The fans went wild. The comments were full of people shipping you two, demanding you date, and creating even more edits.

What the fans didn’t know was that Walker had texted you again after his post.

Walker: So… dinner sometime? You: Only if you promise to make your own edits of me next time. Walker: Deal.

What started as an embarrassing moment turned into something far more exciting. Maybe the internet had caught Walker in 4K, but for once, you were glad they did.

A/N: HI thank u for the request.

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[arbitrarykiwi]

Third Times a Charm: Bodytalk 3/3

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x AFAB Reader smut series

Summary: you ran into him three separate times. First was at a house party, second time was at a club. And like his favorite drugs, he was addicted. The third time? Well he wasn’t going to let you get away so easy. Third times a charm and he was going to get his fix. ((Non-squid game au))

Warnings: smut (18+), LONG (guys..I thought 6k for the last one was bad….this is 11k words...I couldn't help myself), drug usage (only weed this time lol), smoking weed, sex while high, stalker! Namgyu themes, fem centered pet names, divider added were smut starts for convenience, he calls the reader a bitch once, he’s fucking nasty, this is straight porn- v little plot, i feel like i need to go to confession, p in v sex, oral ( f receiving ), fingering, squirting, dirty talk (he really can’t keep his mouth shut), choking, spitting, multiple orgasms, creampie (have safe sex), there's probably more- read at your own risk, was proof read but I am dyslexic.

Previous chapters: Taste Test: 1/3 , Oral Fixation: 2/3

The third time you met him- he came to your place.

You were doing chores around your place- candles were lit, Spotify was playing loudly on the large living room TV rotating through your favorite songs, and even cookies were baking in the oven!

It was two days after your run in with Nam-Gyu at the club. All you could think about was him. The new energy that his interactions gave you was a welcomed motivation. However, to say you were a little nervous he wouldn’t text you was an understatement, you were terrified.

You eased your worries about his absence when you thought about how the last time he was with you- he had to leave with a drug deal gone awry- and you’re familiar enough with the scene to know how time consuming and stressful dealing with that could be.

Still, the absence of him hit you more than you thought it would. He truly had you wrapped around his finger.

To rid yourself of the thoughts, you continued to busy yourself with cleaning your apartment. Soon the oven chimed off a ‘ding’ letting you know the cookies were done. You clapped to yourself, walking to the oven, grabbing the pot holders and pulling the tray out of the oven.

While they cooled you poured yourself a drink, leaning on the counter and looking at your clean place with a sense of accomplishment. You took a sip from the cup and began to think of what else needed to be done.

You pushed yourself back off from the counter, figuring you could get some laundry done. Before you could take a step your phone pinged. Figuring it was just an app notification or one of your friends, you make your way over to your phone with no abnormal excitement.

But when grabbed your phone of the kitchen island and the screen turned on, your heart caught in your throat

‘How’s my pretty girl doing?’

The text came from an unknown number. It blared on your locked home screen as you reread it over and over, your heart rate spiking- you could feel your heart beat in your chest.

‘How’s my pretty girl doing?’ It was like he already claimed you as his, whether you liked it or not.

You unlocked your phone with shaky, excited hands, opening the message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you try to think about what to say.

You begin to type when three floating dots pop up, signaling he’s typing again.

‘I’m sorry for not texting you sooner. You really were all I was thinking about. Texted you as soon as I could.’

‘Let me make it up to you? I want to see you’

The texts come in one after the other, in rapid succession. It was if he knew you had your phone open to his messages- just watching his texts come through.

‘You gonna roll for me? Make it worth my time?’ You text back with a small laugh to yourself. You know he’s worth your time- well worth it. But you gotta give him some hell for making you wait so long to hear from him! You see the three dots pop up on your phone screen, you bite your lip as you watch him begin to type.

‘Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t? I even got some new shit I can bring, all for you.’

You smile at your phone, leaning on your kitchen counter and re-reading his message over and over. You finally begin typing to respond, ‘Now you’re speaking my language, come over at 7?’ , you hit send.

‘Sounds like a plan, I’ll be there.’

You don’t even bother texting him your address, remembering at the club how he told you he already found your address. The idea of him seemingly stalking you should have set you off, but here you are inviting that same handsome stalker over- and doing it excitedly.

You returned to your room to get more presentable. Fixing your hair, putting on the cute new lounge set you just got, and spraying some perfume- you excitedly got ready.

You walked back to the living room, settling in on the couch and turning on some random show to try and settle your excited nerves.

A couple hours passed and before you knew it, a knock resounded at your front door

You quickly stood up from the couch walking to the front door. Your heart was in your chest. This was the first time you and him would be alone. It was about time. The thought of it made your head spin.

You reached the door, hand moving to unlock the silver dead bold. With a resounding ‘click’ your hand grips the door knob and pulls the door open.

He stood there with a grin, one of his hands in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Your breath catches in your throat- you mind reeling. The gesture, the flowers alone, was sweet. Already a large contrast to your flings with him. Hell, he fingered you in someone’s house and face fucked you in his office at a club- you guys weren’t exactly the most romantic pair.

But the fact they were your favorite? That can’t be a coincidence. His smile widens when he sees your expression. “You post an awful lot about your favorite flowers. Your friends get you some every year for your birthday, hard to miss in most pictures on your page.” He quips, stepping forward and running his fingers around your waist and wrapping his arm around your back.

His head tilts to the side as he looks you over. Yet again, he was taking it into his own hands to get to know you- stalking your socials to get to know little details about you. It was endearing in a way. You take the flowers with a wide smile. “You’re such a creep. Thank you.” You say with a giggle, standing up a bit taller to lean in and place a small kiss on his jaw.

You hear him take in a large breath, his hand pulling you into him and gripping your waist just the slightest bit harder when your lips touch his skin. It’s like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Callin’ me a creep, yet you still let me cum down your throat. What’s that say about you, hm?” He says, dropping his head to begin pressing kisses down your neck and over your shoulder.

You laugh, his lips tickling you as you stumble back. You try to pull away, well ‘try’ is an overstatement. You feebly writhe against him, a joke of an attempt to get away from him to try and close your apartment door.

He laughs against your neck, his lips continuing to trace along your neck. His leg kicks behind him, shutting your door for you, his arm that’s not around your waist reaches behind him to lock the door.

He pulls away finally, his head tilting back upright to look at you. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing along your bottom lip. “‘M sorry for keeping you waiting.” He says in a low voice, nearly a whisper as he looks you over.

You hum, smiling and lifting a hand up to hold his cheek, thumb rubbing a circle along his skin as you tilt your head like you’re thinking. “I suppose I can forgive you…” you say with a pout that immediately turns into a laugh.

He watches as you laugh and he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and your laugh is the most enchanting sound he’d ever hear. He can’t help but to pull you closer to him by your waist, your chest pressing against his as he catches your lips in a kiss.

It catches you by surprise, a sound like a small squeak comes out into the kiss. But when the feeling of his lips is finally on yours once again, you simply melt into him. Your legs feel like you go limp, his arm around your back only thing keeping you up as your lips move against his. The kiss is surprisingly soft and meticulous like he’s been without the feeling of your lips for too long. And to him he has.

As he pulls away, his hand dances along your spine.

You guys stand there for a moment, just staring at each other. You break the silence, realizing the hand that holds the large bouquet of your favorite flowers is causing your hand to ache as it’s held up in the air. “I gotta find a vase for these.” You say, nodding your head over to the flowers in your hand. He nods, “I suppose you’re right.” He says with a chuckle, placing another quick kiss against your lips before releasing you.

You walk over into your kitchen, leaning on the counter and reaching up to pull open a cabinet. Grabbing a vase and turning around to the kitchen island where the sink was beginning to fill the vase up with water.

He leans over the opposite side of the kitchen island just watching your every move. As you begin to unwrap the flowers he got you, grabbing a pair of scissors to cut the stems, you look up at him. “So did you bring your ‘new shit’?” You tease, referring to his texts.

He laughs nodding and reaching one hand back into his back pocket, pulling out a heady bag of weed and placing it on the counter and shrugging. “Your offering ma’am.” He says with a wink. It has you giggling. You continue to cut the stems, squinting your eyes and looking at the bag skeptically with a smile “hmm…I’ll allow it.” You say in a fake prissy tone that has him laughing along with you.

You finish cutting the flowers, tossing the cut stems in the trash nearby and gathering the gorgeous blooms. you place the flowers in the vase. You step back and just stare at them, they’re your favorite yes- but it looks like each flower is pristine, in full bloom and the most vibrant it can be, like the hand picked each one out to create the best bouquet.

“Thank you again, they’re gorgeous…” You say with a smile, looking back over to him. You find him staring at you with his chin resting against his palm, elbow resting on the countertop. He’s looking at you with such a genuine, enamored gaze. “Of course, sweetheart. Someone like you deserves only the best.” He says with a wink.

You move around the counter next to him, mirroring how he leans over the counter. Your hands reach to the bag of weed on the counter and drag it towards you. You twirl it in your hands then turn to him. “So you gonna make good of your other promise and roll f’me?” You say, leaning closer to him, your noses practically touching. “You got it princess.” He mumbles, placing slow kiss on your lips. “Lead the way.” He says pulling away, a hand reaching back to slap your ass.

You giggle, spinning around to begin to lead him down the hall to your bedroom.

So there you found yourselves, in your room, laid out on your bed. He’s behind you, legs spread open leaving a perfect space for you to be. You’re leaned back between his legs, back against his chest, your legs crossed- holding up the rolling tray that’s covered in broken down weed.

His arms are around you, chin resting on your shoulder. His hands work to fill in the wrap with the weed. His fingers working a practice that has you mesmerized. The silver rings adorning his fingers reflect the distorted colors of the TV show you guys had playing. The veins of his hand pop out and you watch the way they move and flex with every movement he does.

From out of the corner of his eyes he sees you’re no longer watching the show, your eyes are locked on his hands as he begins to roll up the blunt.

You feel him chuckle, bringing you out of your trance. “You’re not even paying attention to the show.” He says before placing a quick kiss on your jaw. You giggle turning your head to place a proper kiss on his lips with a smile.

“‘M sorry, you have nice hands and they look really good rolling.” You say pulling away and looking down to watch him begin to roll up the blunt. He laughs, following your gaze.

He holds it up to you, the small section of the wrap not rolled sticks up out of the blunt. “Do the honors..” he says, nodding to the blunt. You look to him and smile, knowing exactly what he wants you to do. Your tongue darts out of your lips to run against the expanse of the wrap that was sticking up, wetting it.

As you do it you can feel his eyes on you, watching your mouth and tongue closely. He hums in approval as you finish, folding the flap over and sealing the blunt.

He takes the lighter from off of the rolling tray, flicking it and dragging the tip of the flame over the blunt, drying the part you licked and sealing it.

He transfers the blunt to one hand, the other wraps itself around you, caging you into him. He adjusts himself, leaning back more, guiding you with him to lay back on his chest. As he does it you can feel his cock drag against your back. You feel filthy about it, you can tell he’s not even hard, and all you’re thinking about is his dick against your back.

Your thoughts are cut short when you slowly start to feel the swelling of the start of an erection in his jeans. You sigh with a soft laugh thankful you’re not the only one who’s so worked up.

He nuzzles his cheek against your hair as his leans his arms forward more, lighting the blunt. You relax into him, he’s so warm, you think. Your eyes flick back to the TV, watching whatever was going on in the show as he takes the first hit.

The blunt is soon put infront of your lips, all you have to do is pick your head up the slightest bit. You wrap your lips around the blunt and inhale, leaning back on his chest as you blow the smoke upwards.

His hand that doesn’t hold the blunt moves under your shirt, his fingertips dancing along your the skin of your stomach in light motions.

He passes it back to you again, you repeat the same motions and take a slow inhale, exhaling the smoke in a slow plume of smoke. You can feel your body becoming lighter, a warmth rushing over your insides as your eyelids become heavy. “You really did bring the good shit.” You say with a laugh, your eyes rolling back to look at him behind you.

“I don’t lie about my product.” He says taking a hit himself, his hand traveling farther up your shirt and resting just under your bra, his thumb rubbing circles on the center of your sternum. You nod, can’t argue with that. “Glad you like it.” He adds, blowing out the smoke then placing a kiss on the top of your head.

His hips cant upwards, dragging his hardening cock along your back, you can’t help but to whine and try to grind your hips back onto him. His hand resting under your bra moves down your stomach and down your pubic bone. His fingers dance along your inner thighs as he places the blunt back in front of your face.

You take your hit, holding it in for a bit before releasing your breath. His hands inch inwards, his fingers dancing along your clothed cunt, ghosting over you in feather light touches that begins to make a bubbling warmth in your build in your lower stomach.

You bite your lip, holding in a moan as you jerk your hips into his touch. His palm rests on your pubic bone as his fingers rub up and down your pussy over the fabric of your clothes.

“Take your pants off, pretty.” He hums, hitting the blunt, watching as you quickly grip the waist band of your pants, lift your hips and pull them down and off your legs, throwing them to the side. You go to do the same thing with your panties when he stops you. “I didn’t say take those off.” He scolds. You whimper and nod, your bottom lip catching in your teeth as you settle back down.

His eyes train onto your panties. They’re lace with a cute little bow on the front. Similar to the ones you had on when he first met you. He smiles fondly at the memory, his hand returning to your lower stomach. His fingers dance along the lace top of your panties, gripping at the fabric and pulling up. It creates a delicious drag along your clit that has your head falling back against his chest.

He repeats the motion a couple times before letting the fabric go, his fingers moving further downwards to dance along your clit over your panties. He lets out a low laugh, feeling how wet your panties have already gotten, your arousal beginning to leak through the fabric. “Already so excited to see me…” he says.

You shiver, the way he says it you can tell he’s not talking to you- he’s talking to your pussy.

It has you whining and gyrating your hips against his hand. He slaps his hand against your cunt, each time his hand connects you jump.

You can’t take it, you quickly sit up, turning around on your knees to face fim, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. It’s a mess of tongue and teeth as he kisses you back, his tongue exploring your mouth with a determination that has you spinning.

As the kiss continues to get more heated you feel him guide you backwards by your hips, the lit blunt hanging loosely between the fingers of his left hand. He guides you up, allowing both of you to sit up on your knees. He still towers over you, having to bend his back to lean and continue the kiss. His hands are all over you in a frenzy, yours soon following.

As your mouths move together, your hands run up his shirt, lightly scratching at his abdomen. He sighs into the kiss you can feel his stomach tense under your touch. When you move your back down his stomach and to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, he pulls back- placing the blunt in his mouth and tilting it down. His hands grip the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side of your room. He removes the blunt from his mouth and attaches his lips right back on yours

Your hands move along his bare chest and stomach, feeling all of him. The heat of his bare skin under your palms has you whining into the kiss. Soon he’s mimicking your motion, free hand crawling up your shirt to grope at your breasts over your bra.

This time you pull away, pulling your shirt over your head and reaching back to unhook your bra- attaching your lips right back on his in a rush. You can feel him chuckle into your mouth at your equal enthusiasm.

His hand returns to your chest, his hand splaying over the plush of your breast before kneading it. His fingers pinch at your nipple, pulling at it as he breaks away from the kiss. As he releases your nipple, he watches as your breast jiggles when it drops back into place.

His chest is heaving, his tongue wetting his lips as he looks you over. “You had no idea how bad I missed your lips…missed you.” He mumbles, his free hand not holding the still smoking blunt runs up your waist. It makes you shiver. “You could have come by sooner…” you pout.

He laughs, his hand coming up to cup your face “I know, I would if I could have. But I’m here now and you’re not getting rid of me.” You smile and lean into his hand, turning your face to kiss his palm.

As he watches you nuzzle into his palm, he lifts his other hand holding the blunt to his mouth and takes a long inhale. His hand on your face moves to the back of your neck, pulling you forward into an open mouth kiss, letting the smoke rain into your mouth. You inhale and melt into him, your hands finding purchase on his abdomen.

He pulls back from the kiss, smoke still swirling between your mouths when he feels your hands trail down his stomach and begin to work at the button of his pants. His hand that doesn’t hold the blunt catches your wrists. The size difference has you whimpering. His one hand is large enough to encase both your wrists, stopping you from getting what you wanted.

“As much as I love the way your mouth feels around my cock, tonight’s all about you sweet girl.” He hums, pushing you by the wrists so you sit back up on your knees, giving him enough space to mirror your position.

He raises from his sitting position on the bed to sitting on his knees, pulling you back forward by your wrists. Your breasts press against his chest, his hand still holding your wrists together and down in between the two of you. He brings his other hand up to his mouth, taking a long drag from the blunt.

In the low light of your room the cherry of the blunt burns a vibrant red-orange hue, lighting up his face in an upward light. He’s so handsome it’s downright sickening. You can’t help but stare. His eyes never stray from yours as he moves his hand back down to his side. He blows the smoke out. His eyes are hooded, tinged red and hazy.

He guides your hands up in front of his face, still held by his one hand. He places a gentle kiss on each of your palms before releasing your hands hand passing the blunt back to you.

You take the blunt- frozen. Your mouth hung open. “Hit it.” He says nodding to the blunt. When you don’t move he returns his hand to your one wrist and guides your own hand to your mouth. You finally hit the blunt, inhaling. “There you go…” he hums with a grin.

When you begin to blow out the smoke his hands grab your waist and spin you around, throwing you down onto your bed- head sinking into the plush pillows. You let out a squeak of surprise, your hand that holds the blunt lying limply out to your side, wrist quirked up so the lit end wouldn’t touch any of the fabric on your bed. He’s hovering over you, between your legs with a smirk.

He pulls back, sitting back on his heels, removing a black hair tie that’s around his wrist. In a quick moment, in motions that are practiced, his hair is put up in a small pony tail. It’s half up and half down, small hairs falling out around his face that refused to stay up in the elastic.

It was so fucking hot.

You must have been staring, mouth agape, because he laughs. He leans back down, hand cupping your face, holding your cheek to make you look at him. “That hot to you?” He says with a grin. You don’t answer, just looking at him with a doe eyed look that has his cock growing even more.

His hand taps your cheek a couple times, bringing you back out of your daze. “C’mon you’re a big girl, use your words.” He taunts, but you know it’s also an order as he returns his hand to cup your face and give your face a harsh squeeze.

“F-fuck yes it is…” you say with a smile, a breathless laugh and a nod, reaching up to his face and pulling him down to you. You kiss him with a fury, one that takes him off guard for a split second before he’s kissing you back with just as much fever. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, your mouth falling open in response. He sucks on your tongue in a dexterous manner. It has you whining into his mouth and arching your back off the bed, pressing your chest into him.

He laughs into the kiss, pulling away to begin leaving opened mouth kisses along your neck. His teeth leaving marks that blossom along your skin in his wake. He kisses down your chest, his mouth sucking purple bruises on the swell of one of your breasts while his hand reaches up to envelope the other one in his girl.

You’re helpless under him, a panting mess the feeling of his tongue along your skin only leaves your panties to become even wetter, beginning to stick to your cunt, the fabric several shades darker that what it’s supposed to be.

His warm mouth engulfs your nipple, tongue circling around it in a methodical pattern, teeth grazing over it every so often. When he feels your hips begin to thrust into the air, a desperate attempt for your cunt to get any sort of simulation, his own hips thrust into the mattress of your bed, rubbing his stiff, clothed cock against the plush bedding.

His teeth pull your nipple, letting it go with a ‘pop’ as he begins to kiss down your stomach. He stops when he gets to the top of your panties, pulling away to sit up and look at you.

He takes all of you in, his eyes moving over you slowly, looking over each one of the red bite marks and blooming purple bruises that litter your skin. His hands run up your waist, growling at how small you look under his grasp. His hands squeeze your waist as he speaks, “I’ve been thinking about the taste of your pussy since that time at the house party….” He says, his eyes still tracing over your body.

You can’t help but bite your lip at his words, your chest heaving with a large breath. “You know how fucking hard I had to beat my dick after I cleaned your cum off my fingers just to think straight again?” He admits through a hissing tone, his hands squeezing your waist hard enough to make you whine before letting up.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, your cunt practically making a pool on the sheets below you, coating your inner thighs in a shining mess. You open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off, “and I just know…” he drawls on, his hands returning down to your hips, gripping your panties, pulling the fabric away from your flesh, “that a cute thing like you has a perfect pussy to match.” He finishes, snapping the elastic back against your skin. It makes you jump and arch into him.

He laughs at your reaction, running his hands over the stinging skin to soothe it before he grips the fabric once again. This time, he pulls it down, you lift your hips off the bed to help him pull the lace down and over your ass. He laughs, watching as strings of your arousal that are connecting your cunt to your panties eventually snap.

When he pulls the cloth fully off of you he slides his hands up your thighs, slowly pushing them open, putting you on display for him.

He sucks in a breath and lets out a low, feral sounding growl, as he looks at your bare cunt for the first time. “Ohhh….” He coos, his hands massaging your thighs, “and I was right…look at you…” he hums, his eyes flicking up to look at your face. When he sees you’re not looking at him, but instead bashfully looking to the side, he leans forward, bringing one of his hands from your thigh up to face, ���Look at me.” He demands, turning your head forward so you were forced to look at him, “There you are sweet girl…” he says when you meet his eyes. “Want you to watch.” He adds leaning in and placing a slow kiss on your lips.

You obey, watching him sink down and begin trailing soft kisses from your navel, down your stomach, down your pubic bone then placing one last kiss on your clit.

When his hands adjusted to wrap around your thighs and he licked his lips, getting his first taste of you tonight, he was in heaven. He’s on your pussy immediately, his tongue working over the expanse of your pussy with no real set motion- he was just tasting you.

He was eating you like a man starved, like the arousal you secreted was the water he needed to live. Like a man drunk on the finest, most expensive liquor, he was slurping you into his mouth with a newfound desire.

When his tongue enveloped your clit in a long flat stripe, you cry out for him, your knuckles turning white from the grip you had on your sheets. He begins to suck your clit in and out of his mouth, any time it passes the soft, plushness of his lips, his tongue was on it in languid flicks. It’s all so much, it has your body twitching with pleasure, your body trying to move back on the bed, like you’re trying to run from the pleasure he’s giving you.

“None of that.” He growls, pulling you back to him by your hips. “No running away.” He says, emphasizing his words by licking a wide stripe up your pussy. “I’ve waited too long to taste your fucking cunt, and I’m going to take my time with you.” He says, looking up at you from between your thighs. His eyes are shadowed by his lashes but the hungry glint in his eyes is impossible to miss. His large hands trail upward to the crease of your thighs, pushing them open.

He dives back in, like a man starved. His tongue circles your clit in slow movements. The slurping sounds he’s making is straight up pornographic. He’s dragging it out in an almost sadistic slowness, twisting his tongue in skilled figure eight motions along your clit. He pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth before releasing it with an obscene ‘pop’ of his mouth. The motion has your back arching up like a cat, your hips desperately chasing his mouth.

He pushes you back down, his hands gripping at your thighs, leaving crescent shaped imprints where his fingernails dug into your flesh. “You’re wasting the blunt.” He says, a wicked grin on his face. You don’t even register what he’s saying, your eyes closed and your head thrown back. But the feeling of his heavenly tongue does not return, he’s not resuming.

You open your eyes and look down at him. He’s looking up at you like a snake ready to have its meal. “The blunt. You’re wasting it.” He repeats, nodding over to the blunt that hangs limply in your hand.

Oh the blunt. You completely forgot about it with the way his tongue was working against you. “I-“ your voice cracks, it’s shameful and you can do nothing to hide it. “I-It’s a little hard to hit it…” you manage to get out. He shrugs, resting his chin on your tummy. “And you’re wasting it.” He says simply, his grin widening.

You suck in a shuddering breath, bending your arm and bringing the blunt to your lips. He nods slowly. You wrap your lips around the blunt and begin to inhale.

His hands move under your legs, lifting your hips the slightest bit so he can wrap his hands around the tops of your plush thighs, yanking you down the bed and back onto his mouth. He resumes, his mouth enveloping your pussy in a shameless manner. You whine around the blunt, it’s a muffled sound that has him chuckling against you. The vibrations of his laugh only add to the sensations causing you to grind your hips onto his tongue.

He hums against you, watching you carefully as you exhale the smoke, your head falling backwards against the pillows. Your moans ring out through your bedroom, only making him more excited.

Your moans to him are like an instant drug rush, like a violent high that crashes into him- causing him to pull you into his tongue. And when his tongue pushes its way into your velvety walls, you cry out a wanton sound that has him humping your mattress.

You knew the drill- not wanting him to stop you bring your shakey hand to your mouth and take another drag of the blunt. The weed only causing the feeling of his tongue to become even more formidable.

Humming around your clit in approval, his tongue worked around you, lowering itself to your entrance and twisting around it teasingly. He tried to restrain himself, he really did, but the way you squeezed around the tip of his tongue had him diving straight into your cunt. You tasted like the sweetest honey- squeezing around his tongue in pulsing movements, dripping more and more of your essence onto his wet muscle. He moans into your pussy. His eyes rolling back into his head as he swears your cunt is sucking his tongue in, never wanting to let go.

You whine as he pulls away. Your pussy exposed to the cold air of the room. He stares down at your cunt, his mouth and chin glistening with your arousal.

His hands release his grip on your thighs, pulling themselves from under you and splaying themselves on your inner thighs. One of his hands removes itself from your thigh, rubbing along the entirety of your cunt. He’s truly just playing with you, watching as sticky webs of your wetness cling to his fingers and the lips of your pussy. Every movement making a raunchy squelching sound. And all you can do is just moan and writhe under him.

And his eyes are still trained on your cunt. His head turning and lowering, resting his cheek on your thigh, hot breath fanning against your pussy as he simply admires how wet you are. “Such a pretty pussy…” he mumbles, more to himself than you.

His thumbs rub along your labia, spreading the mess of your own arousal and his spit. You moan out suddenly when his thumbs spread you open. It’s shameful, and debauched. “So wet f’me, huh?” He says his eyes flicking back up to you. His hand lifting from you and spreading his ringed fingers, showing how your wetness webs between his fingers. You nod frantically, your hips bucking up into the air desperate for more simulation.

His eyes flick back down to your cunt, hands retuning to their spot, spreading you wide open for him. Watching as your pussy helplessly clenches around nothing, pupils dilating even more when he watches a thick trail of your wetness drip out of you. Thumbs still keeping your thighs back and cunt spread open, he dives back in, his tongue collecting the creamy bead of arousal on his tongue before licking up to your clit with a loud slurp. You cry out, your moans like a song to him.

He pulls back, making a show of swallowing. You’re embarrassed, being so spread out like this. His thumbs are massaging in and out of your opening, spreading you even more before removing themselves, repeating the motion over and over. Your thighs fight against his hands. He immediately lifts himself up more, pushing your legs back down in a harsh movement.

“You better fuckin’ keep your legs open.” He warns. You bite your lip and nod, your body twitching under his hold, but you keep your legs open. His hand slide back to your inner thighs, thumbs resuming their prior placement of spreading your cunt wide open for him. Your dripping hole and puffy clit on full display.

You watch as he sucks his teeth, purses his lips and spits directly on your cunt. You can’t help but let out an obscene whine, eyes rolling in to the back of your head. He’s back on your pussy in an instant, tongue moving around the entrance of your cunt before pushing back into your gummy walls.

You scream out in pleasure, your hands reaching down to grip at his scalp. When your fingernails scratch at his skin, pulling at his hair he moans into you, moving with more vigor.

He settles back intro the bed, arms going back under your thighs and wrapping his hands around them, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth. He shakes his head in your cunt pulling back with his tongue lolled out of his mouth for breath. “Taste so fucking good…” he murmurs against your pussy, licking a stripe up the entirety of you for emphasis, pulling back again “Could eat you all fuckin’ day…”, he says his fingers reaching across your pubic bone and circling his fingers against your clit.

You cry out and twitch against his hand, you wanted to…no, needed to cum. You pull at his hair, trying to bring his mouth back onto your pussy but he resists. His eyes move from watching your pussy drip for him to watching your flushed face. “You know better than that…” he says in a low warning, the look on his face alone is enough to remind you of his earlier remarks.

Use your words

“Please N-Nam-Gyu”, you stutter out, “I need to cum. Please, your m-mouth, your f-fingers, any-Oh! Fuck!”you’re cut of when he replaces his still fingers with his mouth, his lips wrapping around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud in soft, fast motions. Your head falls back onto the pillows, your chest heaving with heavy, panting breaths.

The hand that was just playing with your clit slides off your thigh, his leaving a wet trail of your arousal around the flesh as he pulls his hand back. His fingers circle your entrance, two digits slip in easily. He moans against your clit as he feels the sweet, warm, grip of your cunt around his fingers. “So tight…” He murmurs against your clit.

His fingers work expertly, thrusting into you and curling up, the motion making lewd squelching sounds every time he was knuckles deep inside of you. His tongue never let up, switching between licking at your clit and sucking it into his mouth. “Squeezing’ my fingers so hard…” he words muffled by your cunt, “You gonna even be able to take my cock?” He mocks, scissoring his fingers inside you for emphasis. It has you moaning in pitch and tone that you didn’t even think you were capable of emitting.

His fingers switch back to the repetitive curling motion that has you seeing stars. When his fingers curl up in just the right way, you keen over, curling up and pressing his face into your cunt with a loud squeal “oh fuck! Right there!” You cry out, flopping back down onto the bed breathlessly.

He hums into your pussy, fingers never moving from where you needed them most. With every stroke of that soft spongy spot inside of you, you’re coming closer to your orgasm.

You feel like you can’t even think straight, your vision is hazy. All you can do is grind down onto his fingers and tongue. “You gonna cum on my tongue?” He says, looking up at you, his lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “I can feel your squeezing my fingers. Gonna make a mess f’me?” He speaks against your cunt. You nod frantically, hips jerking violently against his tongue. “S-shit…” you cry through clenched teeth, it felt so fucking good, you bite your lip and manage to moan out a “Uh-huh,” as you feel yourself about to cum.

His pace speeds up, it’s a violent onslaught of pleasure that has you orgasm wracking through your body violently. You can hear your cum gush out of you, a pornographic, sloshing sound. He chuckles against you, quickly removing his fingers and replacing them with his mouth, his tongue working you through your orgasm, drinking up every last drop of your cum that gushes out of you.

You writhe against his face, twitching against the bed, your breath coming out in choked gasps. You have pull his head away by his hair to get him to stop. When you look down you whine, the view just has you ready to cum again right then.

His head is held up by your hands entangled in his dark hair, the ponytail he put his hair in was disheveled, his tongue was lolled out of his mouth, like he was trying to return to begging tongue deep in your pussy, his saliva and your cum dripping off the tip of his tongue and pooling in a sinful puddle on your pubic bone. He grins, his eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” He coos, his breath tickling your pussy causing you to twitch again. You nod, brushing his hair that has fallen out of the elastic tie, out of his face. “Mhm…felt so fuckin’ good.” You praise him. He smiles, his lips, chin, nose, and even his neck are coated in your cum.

He sits up, walking his hands up the bed on each side of you until he’s hovering over your face. “Want you to taste yourself.” He says as he lowers his face, kissing you without giving you time to respond. You moan into the kiss, tasting yourself own cum on his lips. Your hands come to cradle each side of his face, pulling I’m impossibly closer to you, your mouth opening to accept his tongue excitedly.

He adjusts himself so he’s back on his knees, his hands pulling your hips up onto his. Your back is lifted partially off the bed. He’s hunched over to continue kissing you, his jean clad erection beginning to grind into your pussy.

He continues his movements, moaning into your mouth. In his head he scolds himself, it’s shameful how much dry humping is effecting him. He swears he could cum in his pants then and there as he can feel the wetness of your pussy soak not only through his jeans but his boxers the longer he continues the slow grind of his hips into you.

He has to pull away, pulling away from you to stand up off the bed and rid himself of his pants and boxers. He’s back on the bed in an instant, slotting himself exactly where he just was. He pushes your thighs back, putting you on perfect display for him.

His cock rests heavy against your cunt. He draws his hips back, his hand holding the base of his dick as he slaps it once, twice, three times against your pussy. Each time you jump, your bottom lip becoming caught between your teeth as you whine, wanting more of him.

He’s doesn’t grant you that solace though instead he runs his cock through your folds, his fat cock-head bumping against your puffy clit. “You were squeezing the life out of my two fingers…” he muses, watching the way his cock splits your pussy lips open everytime he thrusts his hips forward. “It will be a miracle if my cock can fit inside you..” he hums with a condescending tone, the head of his dick just barely pressing into you before pulling back and resuming to rub against you.

You let out a soft moan , not being able to hold it in any more. “Hmm…” he moans “You sound so cute.” He praises, his eyes never straining from where you to meet. “I can take it. I will.” You say desperate, sitting up to look down to see his view. And when you do, you let out a wanton moan that has cock jumping.

“Yeah you will..” He lets out in a low rasp as he begins to push his cock into you. It’s a stretch that has you arching your back off the bed like a cat. When the fat head of his cock sinks all the way into you, you both let out a loud, blissful sigh.

Not even half way in and your pussy is milking his dick for all it’s worth. He shudders, beginning to think he might not even fit inside you if you’re squeezing him this hard. “Sweetheart…” he slurs, his eyes closed and eyebrows screwed together in concentration. “Ya’ gotta relax…you’re choking my dick.” He says in a strangled voice, sinking in just a bit more.

His eyes open to look down at where he’s sinking into your weeping pussy. His hand splaying on top of your pubic bone, his thumb reaching down to rub circles on your clit. A moan is forced out of you at the sensation, your cunt relaxing, causing him to slip in half way. Your moans come out and echo each other. Feeling half his cock being surrounded by your spasming tightness has him letting out a choked wine and falling over you, his hand catching himself, falling next to his head.

“You are so fucking tight.” He hisses, dropping down onto his elbow so he can lower his head to the crook of your neck. You can hear his labored breath tenfold now, his nose right under your ear. He draws his hips back, letting out a low moan as he feels how you squeeze around him- like your cunt is trying to suck him back in. He thrusts his hips back forward, sinking further into you.

You writhe against him, whining a pathetic mix of his name and pleading for him to just fuck you. When your hands remove themselves from gripping the sheets and reach up to wrap around his back, nails digging into his shoulders and your legs wrap around him, heels digging into his lower back- he drives his hips back once more, roughly thrusting his hips forward and finally bullying his cock balls deep into your cunt.

You let out a choked moan of his nails dragging down his back. You can hear him moan a low “Fuuuuckkk.” Before grinding his pelvis into your ass, basking in the feeling of being fully inside you.

You can’t help but pant out sharp rapid breaths, you feel so full. “Oh my god…” you whine out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull when he continues the slow grind of his hips. “Y-you’re s-so fucking b-big.” You sob out. He kisses your neck a few times before sitting back up. He watches how your lips are parted, eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving like it’s too much- but you still take it.

“I know, princess…I know..” he says with almost a chuckle at how you struggle to take him but you’re so set on doing so. He leans down to kiss you, you feebly kiss back as best you can even when you can’t stop moaning. He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting on yours as he draws his hips back and begins to set a brutal pace of hammering his cock into your cunt.

He keeps his forehead against yours, wanting to feel the way your breath jumps with each thrust. His bottom lip catches between his teeth when he feels your nails continue to rake down his back.

You manage to open your eyes for a brief second, the view above you is absolutely sinful. His hair has long since fallen out of the ponytail, the strands falling and framing his face and covering you in a shadow. The silver chain that hung around his neck dangled over you, swaying with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes dart to either side of you- to his arms that are planted on either side of your head. His biceps are large the muscles flexing. Tattoos litter his forearms and upper arms. You try to make a mental note to look at them later in more detail because you can hardly keep your eyes open- eventually losing the fight. Your eyes roll back as a loud moan falls from your lips as his cock continues to ruin your pussy.

He pushes himself up once more, leaning back to look down at your cunt. He growls under his breath when he sees the white ring of your arousal that is collecting at the base of his dick. He watches as he spears his thick dick into you. He thinks then that the sight of your cunt stretched open obscenely wide around his cock will forever be one of his favorite views.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to meet every one of his harsh thrusts. It’s a force that has your bed creaking. You feel the warmth building in your lower abdomen, a white hot feeling expanding in the deepest parts of your cunt. Your moans only get louder and higher pitched, your hands reaching up to grope at your own tits.

When he sees this, his eyes “Nasty fuckin’ bitch…you’re close huh?” He says with a sadistic lilt to his voice. Hits one that has your eyebrows upturning into a desperate state, your head nodding, “Y-yes, fuck yes.” You whine out, your hips beginning to gyrate as he thrusts into you, never letting up.

He increases his pace. It’s a hot, sticky mess. You can hear it each time his balls slap against your ass. One hand removes itself from your hip, his fingers coming to play with your clit as he continues his brutal pace. He moans, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he feels you clench even harder around him.

“You gonna make a mess on my cock?” He asks, turning his head back down to look at you and your frantic nod. He watches as you try to speak but are cut off pathetically by your whines. “Do it, come on, pretty girl. Wanna feel you cum.” He says, his fingers working faster on your clit.

It doesn’t take long before you snap, letting out a high pitched, choked scream. You cum, and you cum hard. “Fuck! M’cumming….holy fuck!” You nearly screech, your back arching high off the bed, hips pushing down into him like you could never have him deep enough. He lets out a strangled moan as he feels you spasm around him, rocking his cock into you to allow you to ride out your orgasm.

When you come back to earth, he’s kissing around your face. “You okay? Did I break you?” He says, kissing the corner of your mouth. You giggle and reach up to hold his face, turning him to kiss you properly. “M’okay…was s’good.” You slur against his lips, still in the blissful aftermath of your orgasm.

He laughs “Well that’s good…” he says, it sounds like he’s going to say more but he doesn’t. He hums, pulling his still hard cock out of you. You shut your eyes and wince as he does, the emptiness feeling odd. When you open your eyes he’s sitting back on his heels, looking at his cock that was covered in your cum. You let out a soft whimper when you watch him begin to fist his dick, his wrist twisting up and down- using your cum and lube. “….because we’re not done.” He says, his eyes darting back to you, finally finishing his sentence.

Your eyes widen and you have no time to register before he’s manhandling you onto your hands and knees. His hand pressing your back into an arch.

He kneels behind you, his hands massaging the globes of your ass as he admires your position. One of his thumbs trail inwards, rubbing a light circle on your clit, it has you whining, jerking away from his touch. “‘M sensitive.” You plead, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Oh I know..” he murmurs, his thumb repeating the motion, but this time you arch into his touch. He laughs, “but look, you’re still so needy…” he says tilting his head mockingly. He fists the base of his cock, rubbing it between your folds.

“All that time you spend dancing on me…grinding your ass back on me….” He lists, dragging his dick up and down, up and down, collecting your cum and arousal on the tip of his dick, “…what I was really thinking about was bending your over and fucking you from behind like the whore you are for me.” He growls, canting his hips forward in a brutal motions, sinking all the way into you.

You moan out into the pillow, eyes rolling back into your head. hands fisting the soft fabric, bunching it into your grip as if it will ground you.

His hips slam into you at a brutal pace, the backs of your thighs and his pelvis coated with your arousal. Every thrust makes a sticky sound and as he pulls back it connects your skin to his in white strings. You cry into the pillow, his cock stretching your pussy in ways you didn’t think was possible. “So fuckin messy..” he hisses, pulling you back on his cock to meet his thrusts.

He’s so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach “F-fuck…o-oh my god…” you whine out, hands reaching back, trying to push on his stomach, it was so much. He scoffs at your weak attempt, the scoff turning into a groan as he feels your nails rake down his stomach. Even though you try to push him away, your cunt pulls him back in a vice like grip.

You moan into the pillow, arching your back further as incoherent babbles of ‘more’ and ‘please’ fall from your lips, your hands still pushing him away in a conflicting battle. He was really fucking you stupid.

He grips both your wrists, crossing your arms behind your back and keeping them pinned there with one hand. He pulls you up, your shoulder blades touching his bare chest. His other hand comes up to grip your throat.

As he hooks his chin over your shoulder, he thrusts once more into your cunt, balls slapping against the plush of your ass before he stills, beginning to roll his hips in a slow, a deep grind. Your breath hitches, truly feeling all of him inside you.

“Look at that…..” He says his breath tickling your ear. “Taking all of me so well…” He says, squeezing your throat just a bit harder. “Every. Fuckin. Inch.” He growls out, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips, bullying his cock even deeper into you.

“N-Nam-Gyu…h-holy shit.” You cry out, grinding your hips back into him, wanting more. He laughs at your desperation. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to fuck you….” He rasps. “Be inside this tight cunt..” He tightens his grip on your throat, just enough to cut off a bit of air.

You clench around him, the feeling cutting off his words. He falters, pulling you into him with a whine of his own. “Fucking Christ, you’re gonna kill me pretty girl…” he says, his lips attacking your neck, his hips resuming their movement.

He fucks up into you, your cunt making wet squelching sounds with each thrust. You can feel him moan and pant against your neck as his lips kiss along your jugular. His hand releases your neck and the other one, your wrists. His hands come up under your arms to run up your stomach and to your breasts.

His nose runs along your neck as he continues to fuck you. Every breath he takes, every groan that falls from his lips is right next to your ear. His hair that falls from the small ponytail tickles your shoulders. “I can feel you creamin’ all over me….so fucking wet.” He growls, his hands gripping at your tits, massaging the flesh as he continues to ruin your cunt.

It was all so, so, so much. It felt overwhelmingly good and his filthy praises only helped to make it so much better. Choked out whines and moans fall from your lips, you’re sure you’re drooling too. “All f’me huh?” He asks. You can’t even respond as his cock keeps hitting the soft spongy spot inside of your cunt that has you seeing stars.

He laughs at the lack of your response, his hands dropping your breasts and pushing you back down into the pillows by your waist. One of his hands immediately finds itself running up the back of your neck and entangling itself into a tight fist in your hair- shoving your face into the pillows as he slams his cock into you. “Awh c‘mon now…” he mocks, “I’ve hardly started and you’re already fucked stupid.” He says, his eyes trained on the way you throw your ass back to his pelvis in time with his thrusts.

He suddenly pulls out, one hand still in your hair- holding to cheek to the pillow, the other massaging the flesh of your ass. You whine at the loss of feeling, your cunt spasming around nothing desperately. “W-what…p-please!” You cry out, trying your best to turn to look at him.

He pouts, but it just as quickly turns into a wicked grin. “Thought I broke ya sweetheart. You couldn’t even answer me…not sure you can take it…” He teased, it’s evil, downright sadistic.

He removes his hand from your hair, sitting back on his heels. Both his hands are on your ass, squeezing and releasing the plush flesh before spreading you open to get a perfect view of your cunt. Red, puffy, and messy with arousal it’s a sight that makes his cock twitch.

“N-no! I can take it I swear!” You plead looking over your shoulder. You watch as he licks his lips while looking at your pussy then divert his gaze up to your face. “Then answer me.” He says demanding his answer.

Your lips part to answer but you’re cut off by his thumbs rubbing over the sides of your pussy, stopping at your clit to rub small circles, a moan coming out in place of an answer. “I guess I have to repeat myself…” he muses with a chuckle, “You’re this wet all for me, hm?” He repeats.

“Yes! All for you! F-fuck, s’all for you.” You whine, your hips pushing back into his hands. He laughs to himself, spreading your cunt wider, muttering an “I know.”, his smirk audible, before dipping his head lower and attaching his mouth to your cunt, tongue diving into your warm walls before removing itself to play with your clit.

Before you can even push your hips back he sits up, running one of his hands up the curve of your ass before resting on your hip. The other holds the base of his cock, running his weeping head along your pussy.

You arch your back further, trying to push yourself back into him. He sinks into you , but only a few inches before pulling out, repeating the motion a couple times as he watches your cunt hold the shape of his cock, stretched open, before clenching around nothing. “You want it so bad, huh?” He pouts in a condescending tone and you nod your head, whining each time his tip enters you, stretching you before pulling out.

“Please! Please! Oh my god, I need it.” You plead as he slowly sinks even more of his cock into you. It’s a slow pace, one that has you convulsing and mewling.

“I’ve dreamt of being in this sweet fucking cunt since I saw you….I’m going to make sure you feel every inch…” he says sinking into your weeping pussy just a bit more, “every vein,” he says pushing in even deeper, “going to ruin your cunt for anyone else who even thinks to try and get with you.” He growls out, sinking balls deep into you finally.

You grip the pillows, you’re sure you probably ripped the fabric. You cry out a wanton moan feeling so entirely full. His thrusts are brutal and he’s relentless.

When his hand reaches around and begins to play with your clit you can’t help but to desperately throw your hips back in time with his thrust. His other hand removes itself from your hip. “Go on now…” he urges, watching how you keep up the movements he ceased, fucking yourself back on to him “That’s it….fuck!” He growls out, watching each time your ass connects with his pelvis.

You can feel yourself getting closer to your third orgasm of the night and the feeling is overwhelming. You keep crying out, your hips moving back on his in sloppy, jittery movements. You wanted to cum again so bad but you just couldn’t without him brutally thrusting into your cunt.

He seems to realize this and he chuckles darkly, he replaces his one hand on your hip, the other dancing along your clit in patterns that have your body jerking against him. “Wanna cum so bad don’t you…” he coos, leaning over you, his hips beginning to rock softly into you.

You cry out, nodding into the pillows. “Poor thing….”, he chides, “can’t do it without me helping you, huh?” He says, his breath fanning over the back of your neck, lips dancing along the shell of your ear.

“P-please.” You whimpered out, trying to turn your neck to look at him. He smiles, your begging only spurring him on to increase the force of his thrusts. They become hard and slow, dragging the length of his cock slowly out of your cunt with a moan of his own. “F-fuck…please! N-nam-Guy, p-please!” You cry out.

That seems to do the trick. The wanton plan of your name has him groaning and sitting back up from hovering over you. His hips drive into you at a force that has you surging forward and your eyes rolling back.

You can hear the filthy squelching sound of your pussy each time he bullies his cock into your tight entrance. His fingers that were on your clit messily dragging your arousal around. “Come on princess. I can feel you squeezing me, need to feel you cum again.” He growls through gritted teeth.

All you can do is nod and cry, your orgasm creeping up over you in a large tidal wave that you have no hope of fighting off. When his cock starts to hammer the spot inside you that has you choking out a cry of his name, his fingers rapidly drawing circles on your clit, you break.

You cum with a loud moan of his name, your cunt spasming around him so tightly that he is hurled towards his own orgasm without warning. He lets out a gasping moan of your name, driving his hips into yours with one final thrust and cumming deep inside you.

The force of your own orgasm has you shaking around him, clear liquid evidence of your orgasm is forced out of you, coating his cock and pelvis with your cum.

He lets our strangled breaths as you milk his cock for everything he had, his hips rolling into yours softly as you both ride out your highs.

You feel so good but so weak, you’re sure you would have collapsed onto the bed in a boneless heap if it wasn’t for his arm around your midsection keeping you up.

You sigh as you feel him lean down and place kisses up your spine and up the back of your neck. “Did so good f’me.” He mumbles breathlessly against the back of your ear. “Mhm..” you whine in response, shivering against him.

He slowly pulls out of you, his arm staying wrapped under you to keep upright. You nearly sob at the feeling of his cock pulling out of your pussy and his cum that drips out of your red and puffy cunt.

You hear him hiss, watching it. He’s addicted. His fingers lift up, catching the trail of his cum drilling out of your cunt that threatens to drop to your sheets. Smearing it around your pussy, his fingers dipping in to your entrance to fuck the rest of it back into you with a few slow pumps.

You whine, so utterly overstimulated. He shushes you, “I know, sweet thing..”, he says pulling his fingers from you and leaning into place a kiss on your clit. “Couldn’t let you be so wasteful…” he murmurs against your pussy before pulling back.

He sits back up, leaning over you. “I’m gonna help you turn around okay?” He says softly, you nod weakly in response. He carefully pulls you onto your back and laying you down on the bed. You don’t even realize he departed from the bed and went to the bathroom for a towel before he’s wiping you both down, discarding the towel and returning back to the bed near to you.

“I really did a number on ya, huh?” He says, his elbow propped up on the pillow and his chin on his palm. You’re lying on your back, still haven’t moved from where he left you. You narrow your eyebrows and pout, a fake scowl. He laughs at your pathetic attempt at seeming mad, your laugh soon echoing his and it has his chest swelling with an electric warmth.

“Yeah ya did.” You admit shamelessly, turning on your side towards him looking up at him. He laughs, “Oh, I know.” He says proudly, making you laugh again. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you next to him.

He kisses your forehead, the arm around your shoulder pulling you closer. “I waited way too long for that.” You say, your head moving to rest on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat. It’s cute the way you hear it speed up when you nuzzle your head on his chest and begin to draw light patterns on his stomach.

He chuckles in response, “Well I suppose third times a charm.” He says, reaching down to pull the blankets that were piled up on the edge of your bed over the two of you- no way we’re both of yall getting up to get under the sheets and comforter.

You look up at him from your spot on his chest, a smile on your face. “And you’re staying the night? Oh what a gentleman.” You joke, cuddling closer into him. “Uh yeah…duh.” He says in a teasing tone, squeezing you into him, “and tomorrow, if you let me, I’d like to take you out to breakfast….or lunch…whenever we get up.” He says, with a small laugh, his arm now beginning to trace light shapes on your arm.

“Y-yeah I’d like that.” You say, you can’t even hide the smile in your words. “Good, now get some sleep. You’ll need it you’ll be sore in the morning.” You hit his chest at his words and he laughs, wrapping his other arm around you to cage you into him. He begins to pepper kisses along the top of your head and down to your face causing you to giggle. And he swears that’s your laugh is a sound he will never get tired of hearing.

Needless to say, you went to bed excited to see where you two went for food and what the future held for this odd partnership that was, very thankfully, catapulted into your life.

Thank you guys for all the support during this series. It is unbelievable how much love this got! I'm so excited to continue writing! I have a lot of ideas and things in the works and am so so so excited to share them with you all!!! my inbox is open for requests for one-shots or drabbles! much love <3 kiwi

Tag List: @heyitsayjayy , @chxrrybomb22 , @ziallgff , @ametheslime , @hornyfordaryldixon , @risingofjupiter , @h3artz4soph , @godly-sinsx , @gurofushi , @shad0wcast , @thearsonistrat , @sollum , @onmycloudyet , @matthewpatel4life , @tashiagalinda , @knxfesup , @skibidirizzzlerrr

[angelofthenight01]

Truth Serum

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

genre: flufy  ||     warnings: none

It all started, as these things often do, with a seemingly straightforward mission. Infiltrate a HYDRA base, retrieve some stolen tech, don't get captured, the usual. You were pretty confident, you'd been training with the Avengers for a while now, holding your own, even earning a few nods of respect from Captain America himself. You weren't exactly a superhero, more of a very skilled and adaptable support member, but hey, it paid the bills and got you close to, well... certain people.

You remember the moment the serum hit you. It wasn't dramatic, no needles, no villainous laughter. Just a rogue vial – accidentally knocked off a table by a HYDRA goon who tripped over his own feet, a testament to their competence – and its contents splashed right onto your cheek. It didn't taste like anything, but a second later you could swear you felt your brain doing the cha-cha.

"Are you alright?" Tony's voice was crisp over the comms. You knew he was watching the feed from his suit.

“Peachy,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm, even as the world around you started to look a little too vibrant. “Just feeling a bit… honest.”

“Honest?” Steve’s voice now chimed in with that trademark wholesome concern. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know,” you found yourself saying, “like, if you asked me if I liked the way the light caught your hair this morning, I’d say yes, Steve, you’re like a walking, talking golden retriever of justice and your hair is always perfectly coiffed. Sorry, am I oversharing?”

A beat of silence followed, punctuated only by the sharp crackling of your boots on the steel floor of the HYDRA base.

"Uh, thanks?" Steve said hesitantly.

“And Tony,” you continued, unable to stop the runaway train of your mouth, “your sarcasm is a coping mechanism, and sometimes it's a little predictable, but you're actually really good at inventing things, even if you pretend to hate trying.”

You could hear Tony sputter in disbelief. Before he could recover, you spotted your quarry – the tech – in a nearby room. And then you saw her. Natasha Romanoff, a whirlwind of controlled fury and ballet-like movements, expertly disarming guards left and right. Everything suddenly seemed… brighter. And also terrifying. Because, of course, the truth serum also seemed to have activated your inner monologue on high volume.

"Oh, damn it," you muttered, your voice still broadcasting. "You're so cool, Natasha, your hair looks amazing, are those tactical boots because you can be both deadly and elegant and it's totally not fair. I also think... I think..." You clamped your mouth shut.

There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath over the comms. You could practically feel Natasha's gaze burning through the screen and directly into your soul.

"Alright," Natasha said, her voice silky smooth, but with a definite hint of something dangerous lurking beneath. "You’ve had your moment. Let's finish this."

And that’s when you realised that you had a very, very big problem. You had a mission to finish, sure, but you also had to not reveal your crush on the world's most deadly spy. You could picture it now, if you even let a hint touch your tongue, it would be all over the tower, Tony would create a song about it, and Clint would laugh and draw cartoons of you in love struck positions.

You moved with newfound urgency, grabbing the tech and bolting for the nearest exit.

“I’m just gonna, uh, take this and go now,” you announced, “Gotta avoid... uh... social interactions. Bye!”

You broke into a run, your boots thundering on the metal floor, the comms going silent as everyone processed what had just happened. You could hear footsteps behind you, and you didn't need to look back to know who was trying to catch up to you.

You burst out of the HYDRA base into the cold night air, not caring where you were going, just knowing you needed to get away from Natasha. You sprinted across the snowy landscape, your breath puffing in white clouds.

Then, you hit a patch of ice.

You went down, hard, landing in a comical heap with a muffled oof.

“Are you alright?” Steve’s concerned voice came over the comms, making you groan.

“No,” you whined. “I just busted my butt. Also, I think I need to be honest with you all about the way I prefer to put my butter on my toast, and it’s not the way you would imagine, it’s much more…”

You cut yourself off before you could launch into a detailed explanation of your highly unorthodox buttering techniques. You scramble to your feet, wincing.

“I think I need to go home now!” you shouted, then took off running again, stumbling over the uneven snow.

“Wait!” Natasha’s voice called out from behind you again. Closer this time.

“No!” you yelled back. “I can’t, if I’m not running away, I’ll probably tell you I think you’re amazing and all of the romantic feelings I have for you and then you’ll get weirded out and it’s just, a whole thing!”

You didn’t wait for a response, diving behind a large snowdrift. You could hear Natasha’s footsteps pause, a beat of silence followed, and then you heard a sigh.

You peeked over the top of the snow drift, and saw the figure that was Natasha, hands on hips, a look of fond exasperation on her face. It made your heart do a little flip of emotion.

"Okay, fine," Natasha called out, "I'll give you some space. But you're not getting out of this conversation without explaining all that 'buttering' talk later. And your feelings." She added the last bit in a soft voice.

You ducked back down, a blush creeping up your neck. You could hear laughter coming through the comms this time, Tony, Clint and Steve having a field day. You might have also heard Thor laughing way too loud, then suddenly a deep growl, and then silence.

You knew you couldn't hide forever. But for tonight, you decided, you'd take your chances with the arctic wind over the truth serum and the very attractive woman currently stalking you. 

For now, your escape was enough. You would deal with the awkward, heartfelt, and hopefully not too embarrassing aftermath tomorrow. But tonight? Tonight you are just a very honest person with a severe case of avoidance and a very big crush. And that’s something, right?

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##04

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,163

warnings: none?

a/n: HELLO IM ALIVE- ummm did break up with my boyfriend, after spiraling for a week i am feeling much better! I did what was right for me and i am happier for it!! JAMES OR SIRIUS WOULD HAVE NEVER TREAT ME LIKE THAT! so yea I'm back :D thank you for putting up with my disappearances i should be uploading SEMI regularly just bc classes r in full throttle now

series masterlist

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It hadn't been as difficult as you thought. Getting rid of Josh was a pending item on your to-do list for months. But for some reason or another, you never could, not completely. More often than not, he’d find some weak spot in your resolve, and crawl back in like a cockroach. 

But not this time, at least not yet. After that day, when James’s call saved you from a bit of an uncomfortable situation, you managed to easily avoid his calls, if he knocked at the door Charlotte and you stayed unbearably still until he went away. He left voicemail after voicemail, called Charlotte’s phone with a bit more anger, and called your phone with crocodile tears. 

But you weren't sweating it. You had fallen into an easy pattern with James, he’d fill the time that you would've been itching to fill and end up calling Josh out of boredom. 

James was a good friend! At least that's what you’d tell Charlotte. She’d look at you with a glint in her eye and a smirk on her lips that you ignored. If only she was so keen and observant with women that she liked, she tended to lack awareness often. 

You didn’t dare tell her about the playful jabs, the comments you didn't dare label fully as flirty, or god forbid the butterflies that fluttered at the pit of your stomach every time he called, laughed, or gave you some stupid cloying nickname. 

“Come on pretty- just tell me” You could hear the pout in his voice

You groaned in defeat, “Okay okay- if I had to be any creature…” You thought about it for a second more “Potter this is stupid”

“Indulge me”

You sighed “Fine, I think I would be… a witch”

“That's not a creature love”

“Well they are to me”

“I know a few that would be greatly offended by that comment” he retorted

“Oh yeah? You’re friends with witches?” you mirrored the smirk you heard in his voice

“Quite a few actually, nasty women the lot of them…” James smiled, thinking of his friends. How Marlene would probably flick the side of his head, and Lily would wholeheartedly just roll her eyes. Dorcas would definitely send a book flying straight to his head if she heard, not that she hadn't done that often enough during their time at school. It was always deserved. “love them nevertheless though- Pick something else, witches are human”

You hmph in disagreement and thought about it momentarily

“I don't think it would be very pleasant to be a werewolf you know? A bit inconvenient-” you thought out loud

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said under his breath

“Vampires sound kind of cool… wouldn't be able to go out into the sun though so that's quite a shame” James hummed in agreement “Maybe a mermaid, they’re pretty right?”

“Allegedly, they’re more scary than anything else- foul foul creatures” The ones in the Black Lake had messed with him more than once. 

“Oh, what do you know Potter?”

“Quite a lot thank you- more than you anyway”

“And why do you think that? Mermaids aren't scary dummy”

“You say that because you haven't seen one pretty” James’s mouth was faster than his thoughts, he prayed you’d just laugh it off.

“Oh, and I suppose you have?” He slapped himself on the forehead as he thought of some excuse. The witches' comment he was able to get away with, maybe his tone had been too matter-o-fact.

“Well, yes I have!” he said, confidently, ironically. You started laughing, his worry melted away. Would you even believe him if he told you?

“Is that so? Well okay, what creature would you be Potter?”

“A hippogriff I think”

“What the hell is that?” James burst out in laughter

-

You could feel Charlotte’s eyes on you as you scooped ice cream into your lips. You focused on the cold chocolatey flavor and whatever movie she had found. You didn’t know what you were watching, you thought of James.

James and his stupid laugh, and the way he always called you pretty or doll or some other completely repulsive nickname you wanted to hate. But you couldn't. He was sweet, and he always asked how you were, after he found out about your roommate’s existence, he asked about her too. 

“y/n”

“yes charlotte?”

“What does he look like? is he cute? Is he tall? I reckon that’s an important one with men is it not” you groaned as she launched question after question

“Char, I already told you I don't know anything about him”

“But you talk all day, every day” She scoffed

“It’s not every day- nor is it all day I have things to do you know”

“It is though, every bloody day, you come in and launch yourself at the telephone like clockwork” You stared at your pint of ice cream, suppressing the small laugh that threatened to leave your lips. 

You felt a tad silly.

“It’s just-” You started to say, Charlotte leaned in with an excited smile on her lips as if egging you on. “It feels stupid, I could be getting totally scammed right now- sure he sounds young, and sure he said he’s twenty- but he could be anyone, anywhere” 

“Let’s think about it though- you guys talk a lot he has to be in England no? Calls out are so expensive” She grabbed the pint of ice cream from your hands, shoving a spoonful into her mouth. 

“That doesn’t change anything Char, I don't know him” She waved the spoon around dismissively. For someone who was so cynical about her own love life, Charlotte was always ready to be invested in yours. You never minded though, you were happy to bond over the raging disaster that it seemed to be.

“You guys have never thought about meeting up? You haven’t even talked about it?” You shifted uncomfortably as she wiggled her eyebrows “Have you even asked him what he looks like?” You took the ice cream tub back, shoving ice cream into your mouth

“We’re missing the movie y’know?” She scoffed at your weak attempt to change the subject

“As if I care about that- come on, you’re rolling in laughter every time you’re on that damn phone so there is clearly some chemistry there”

“So what I also have chemistry with circus clowns?” You said, turning to give her a deadpan stare. 

“You know what I mean” She took the ice cream back

“What if I meet up with him and he kidnaps me…” she offered you the last few scrapes left in the tub. When you shook your head she ate it gingerly, a small smile on her face. “Suddenly I’m in the arctic tundra being trafficked”

“As long as it's not with Josh,” she shrugged her shoulders “I reckon anything is better,” she said, snorting 

“You’re terrible” You both fell into laughter

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED YOU I HAVE BEEN GONE FOR WEEKS AND I DID MY BEST TO COLLECT EVERYONE AHHHH thank you for reading <3

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I'd love to know how the cover date with A-Town actress Ash Lewis and Tom went down. What did they talk about? Were they friends by the end, do they stay in contact? Did they and their partners meet up before or after? What does Ash think about her role and meeting the inspiration for it?

[For those of you just tuning in: A-Town is the shitty postwar sitcom inspired by the life of Jake Berenson, to the eternal annoyance of Jake Berenson. Ash Lewis plays the main character's older sister Daisy, a dumb blond lacrosse player controlled by a yeerk named Zeptron 420.]

This whole thing felt like going to senior prom.

Not that I’d ever actually been to senior prom.  There'd been a show of sending me, Essa 412 giving Mom and Dad the runaround even to the point of getting the yeerk inside Vi Alden to show up in a dress.  30 seconds out the door, the formalwear had been swapped out for jeans and dracon rifles; our bodies had spent the night clearing wildlife out of a build site in the hopes of giving the “andalite bandits” nowhere to hide before the new community center opened up.

But I’d seen enough movies to know that this was how prom was supposed to work: A limo out front, a flower in my hand, a terrifyingly beautiful woman standing at the end of my parents' driveway.

Ashleigh Lewandowska wore a shimmering strapless gown in a color somewhere between gold and silver and lilac and rose, depending on how it caught the light. The silky fabric could only have been custom-sewn for her body, from the perfect way it hugged her curves and cut high enough in front to show one knee before trailing down in the back to an inch above the ground.  Jessica Rabbit come to life, and then melded with Jessica Alba.

"Hi," I said, smiling awkwardly. “You look amazing." I handed her my sprig of lilies, feeling like I was putting a Pokemon sticker on a bottle of champagne.

“You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” she said.

I glanced down at my own attire.  We’d gone for a deep purple button-down and a charcoal gray suit, but skipped the tie and cuff links.  Allegedly this was the fashion right now.  “Thanks,” I said.  “I should hope so, since my cousin spent the last week using me as her personal Ken doll.”

She laughed.  “Welcome to Hollywood.”  She stuck out a hand, silvery bracelets jangling.  “Call me Ash.”

I shook gently.  “Tom.  Nice to finally meet in person.”

There was a blinding flash; I flinched in surprise, but Ash turned automatically toward the light.

“Wow,” I said loudly.  “After all your whining about paparazzi, you go and join them.”

Jake stepped up next to me, stuffing the disposable camera into his hoodie pocket.  “It’s not paparazzi-ing if I don’t publish the photos,” he said.  He stuck out his own hand.  “I’m Jake.  Big fan.”

Ash laughed, taking his hand.  “Ash.  And I’m a big fan of yours.  Besides...” She looked over at me.  “Aren’t photos the whole point of the evening?”

“Yeah.”  I smoothed down my jacket, even though I had Rachel’s assurances it hung perfectly.  “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Shall we, then?”  Ash gestured to the limo.

“Uh.”  I lunged to open the door for her, although I could tell from her laugh that that wasn’t what she’d meant.

Ash slid into the limo, scooting down the seat so I could perch next to her.

“Have him home before nine,” Jake called after us, “and don’t drink the jungle juice!”

I flipped him off before pulling the door closed behind me.

In cool interior of the limo’s passenger compartment, Ash’s presence was even more overwhelming.  She was stunningly beautiful with her delicate updo of blond curls, her full figure accentuated by the dress’s curves, her flawlessly smooth skin.  But there was an untouchability, a faint unnaturalness, about her beauty.  It was less like being on a hot date, more like being in the presence of an alien goddess.

Maybe it was just that I knew for a fact she had no interest in men.  Lack of attraction was always going to be a turn-off.

“So.”  She shifted to sit across from me, leaning forward to brace both hands on her knees.  “Some ground rules.”

“Yeah.  I’m listening.”

She shook her head.  “I mean we both set ground rules.  This is improv, but improv never means anything-goes.”

“Improv?”

“An improvisational performance.  We have the outlines of what we’re doing, and we’re making it up as we go.”

“Ah.”  The car lurched as the driver pulled away, causing me to slide sideways on the seat when I didn’t catch myself in time.  Ash put out a hand as if to steady me, but pulled back when she saw I was good.

“Sorry.”  She shrugged.  “No seatbelts in limos.”

“All right, I’ll start there.”  I shifted in my seat.  “My reaction time is complete crap.  I assume you’ve done a fair bit of reading about zombies for the role?”

She twitched a little at zombies.  “I’m not claiming to be an expert.”

“Sure.  What you should know is that that much of the stereotype is true, at least for me.  I’m slow to respond to pretty much anything sudden, and one way that shows up is I’m terrible with facial expressions.”  I gave her an apologetic smile.  “I’m going to do my best to sell this, but you’re going to be carrying most of the weight.”

“Ah, so you’re a bad actor.”  Ash nodded with mock solemnity.  “That, I can work with.”

“Cool.  Just think of me as your extremely well-dressed cardboard cutout,” I said.

She laughed again.  “Okay.  And I’ll keep in mind that I shouldn’t necessarily check on your face to see if you’re interested in something.”

“Yeah.”  I made an open-palm gesture to her.  “‘preciate it.”

“For me...”  She held up a perfectly manicured finger.  “No touching of boobs, hips, or butts—”

“God no!” I blurted.  “Uh, no offense, but...”

“Goes both ways, good, got it.”  She held up a second finger.  “Closed-mouth kissing on the cheek or maybe the neck is okay with me, if and only if it’s okay with you.”

I thought about it.  “Let me ask Bonnie?”

“Totally.  And for the record, I already ran all this by Sierra.”

“Cool.”

I tapped out a text as Ash rummaged in the giant handbag that sat next to her minuscule purse on the seat, finding her own phone.

“Bonnie’s fine with that,” I said when I got a reply.  “But I’ve been told not to fall in love with you, and also called a ‘narcissist’ three times in four texts.”

Ash gave a tinkling little laugh, one hand coming up to cover her mouth.  “I’ll have to meet this Bonnie.”

I glanced up at her.  “Totally incognito double date, next weekend at Shake Shack?”

“Let me text Sierra,” she said.

Sierra was in, it transpired.  And we hammered out most of the rest of the rules: arms around the shoulder or waist were okay, sitting in laps a no-no.  Splitting a dessert was fine, putting two straws in one drink a little too far.  Holding hands was encouraged.  We’d tell anyone who asked that we were friends, and if pressed to elaborate would say we were friends getting dinner together.  We’d tell the truth about our names, and the fact that we’d met through Ash’s research for A-Town.

I was allowed to make jokes about dating my double, but strongly discouraged from expressing an opinion about A-Town or about Ash’s character Daisy.  If all else failed, I should claim I had never seen the show but I’d heard a lot about it and was planning to check it out in the future.  If anyone planted the suggestion that we were at dinner because I was helping Ash with her research, I was to encourage the idea without confirming it.

Also, whenever possible, I’d be letting Ash do all the talking.

“You ready?” Ash asked.

I glanced out the window, surprised to discover the limo had pulled up at the curb.  She was easy to talk to, for a superhero princess in an outfit that cost more than my car.

“Will there be photographers right away?” I asked.

She nodded.  “Probably.  This place publishes its guest lists, which is part of why I made the reservation here, but it also keeps in business through requiring a level of respect from the hangers-on.”

“Cool.”  I smoothed my hands over my pants.  I was so glad we’d cut off my hair down to its usual buzz; trying to mess around with the loose poof of curls I wore it in at college would’ve given me too many opportunities to fidget. Same reason I'd left the glasses at home.

“Hey.”  Ash put her hand gently on mine.  “Thanks for doing this.”

I smiled up at her.  “What, pretending that I’m in any way desirable enough to attract a Hollywood A-lister?  Yeah, the impact on my reputation is gonna be a real hardship.”

“‘A-lister’ is definitely overstating it.  And you know what I mean.”

I did, of course.  Ash was aspiring for fame, anyway, and she’d attracted a good few offers for small film parts through her work playing fake-me on A-Town.  But if she had any hope of a film career, no one could know about her quiet long-term relationship with another woman.  There couldn’t even be rumors.  Not in that direction, anyway.

There were rumors already, as it stood.  Which is why Marco had texted us both to set up this little pantomime.

We were here to make a new batch of gossip.  Through manufacturing a story too odd, too delicious, too ridiculous for the press to pass up: the actor who played a fake version of Jake Berenson’s sibling on TV, entering into a fling with Jake Berenson’s real-life actual sibling.  In reality Ash’s character was only loosely inspired by yours truly, there having been no actual research involved in the construction of Daisy A or Zeptron 420.  But the fact that Ash played me on television was going to be too delightfully ironic for most tabloids to pass up.

“Good to go?” Ash asked.

I nodded.  “Just like we practiced.”

“Something like that.”

She leaned to the far side of the car and swung the door open.  I expected her to get out right away, but she made a whole production of swinging one leg out the door and planting her foot on the ground.  She left it there for a few seconds before she curled a hand around the door frame and slowly pulled herself out of the car, posture careful and head high.

“It’s Ash Lewis!” Someone called from outside.  And then there was an explosion of overlapping sound.

Ash turned, making eye contact where I still sat.  She winked.

Swallowing, I scooted over.  She put out her hand, and I took it.

My own exit from the car wasn’t nearly as graceful, but Ash made sure we were gazing at each other the entire time.  The lightning-strikes of flashes were already going off around us, people with everything from cell phones to full news cameras crowding forward at a barely-respectful distance.  Now I understood why she’d taken her time — it gave the bush-lurkers time to realize just who was climbing out of the latest stretch limo amidst an entire fleet of them.

“Ash, any comment on the rumors of a film contract?” someone shouted.

“Hey Ash, who’s—”

“Ash, smile for us!”

“Ash, who are you wearing?”

“Over here, Ash—”

“—your new beau?”

“I love you, Daisy!”

I suppressed a wince at that one.  Hopefully she didn’t mind no one being able to tell the difference between her and her character.  Hopefully it wasn’t like when people —

“Visser Seventeen?” a voice broke through.

Now I did wince.  I’d stopped dead on the edge of the sidewalk, expression frozen.  I didn’t know if I could...

“Tom Berenson,” Ash said loudly, and the crowd fell silent for the sound bite.  “We’re going for dinner, it’s a Balenciaga, can’t say about the film, and I love you all too!”

With that, she slid an arm around my waist and started steering me toward the door.

I smiled.  I waved.  I tried not to look like too much of a fool.

Several people yelled questions to me. A few yelled questions about me to Ash. A few, apparently, addressed their questions to the dearly departed spirit of Essa 412. Ash fielded the entire gauntlet, half-shielding me with her body as needed.

“Thanks,” I muttered, as we approached the host stand.

Ash nodded.  “Think it’ll rain?”

That was another one we’d done in the car — either of us could drop the phrase blue skies at any time to mean get me the hell out of here.

“It just might, yeah,” I said.  Giving the all-clear.

“Ash Lewis and Tom Berenson.”  This time Ash spoke much louder, probably so the mics could pick it up.

The host ran his finger down the list, nodding.  “Here we are.  Right this way, ma’am.  Sir.”

We followed him out of the hard-bright spotlight outside, stepping into a velvet-muffled interior like sliding underwater.

“Oh,” I whispered.  There were dozens of little round tables, each tucked away into semi-enclosed nooks around the edge of the room.  “This isn’t bad at all.”

Ash tapped the side of her nose.  “Don’t worry, plenty of eyes and ears in here too.”

Ah.  So a fair percent of the other diners would be reporters or hangers-on.  Made sense.

But it was still far less overstimulating than the cacophony outside.  Our table was draped in a white linen cloth, the enclosing walls in burgundy velvet.  No one was going to hear us unless we raised our voices, and the only photographs possible would be low-lit and far away. 

“So,” I said to Ash, after pulling out her chair and helping her sit.  “Come here often?”

She laughed, head tossed so that her curls cascaded attractively.  Exaggerated, but warm.  “This is my first time with a date, anyway.”

“I’m honored.”

I was running a mental check: elbows off table, legs uncrossed, posture straight.  Eyes on my date, even when I heard a click of a muffled shutter somewhere off to my right.  

“Ms. Lewis.”  A different guy in a tuxedo had materialized where the host had been a second ago.  “What a pleasure to have you back.”

“Good to be back,” Ash said, smiling up at him.

“Will you be starting with some wine tonight?” he asked.

“The usual.  And we’ll take a few of those menus as well.”  Apparently, she had to request menus.

“Naturally.”  He held them out on top of a freaking tray.  Ash took one without comment.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, lifting the leather portfolio.  Feeling like a kid getting sticky fingerprints on my mom’s paperwork.  Wondering why I hadn’t done the math before now that generating trashy gossip would be so highfalutin.

The waiter bowed — I’m not kidding, he actually bowed — and glided away.

“We’re getting wine?” I asked in an undertone.

Ash lifted her head.  “You are over twenty-one, right?”

I nodded.  “Are you?”

She smirked, tapping a finger against her lips.  Got it, never ask a Hollywood dame her age — lies were a survival tactic.  And she did play the sixteen-year-old version of me on TV.  Wouldn’t do to imply she might be a day over nineteen.

Opening the menu, I skimmed down the column of French- and Italian-labeled food things.  And then I stopped, my eyes skipping to the right, and read that column instead.

“Are these...” I leaned in closer, squinting at the tiny font.  No sign of any decimal points, but I could see a few commas.  “Are these prices in dollars?” I hissed.

Ash brought her hand up to her mouth, not quickly enough to hide her smile.

I flushed.

“It’s already paid for, Tom.”  She reached across the table to put two fingers on my wrist.

“No, I...”

We’d agreed she’d be picking up the tab, but still.  What the fuck could they have possibly done to that pigeon to make it worth twelve hundred fucking dollars?  It was a pigeon.  They were free for anyone with sharp eyes and fast talons, all over the friggin city.

“I didn’t realize the schmoozing and boozing part of this could be so pricey,” I said at last.

“You said no major food allergies?”  She raised her eyebrows.

“Just pineapple.”

She folded her menu so that she could look across the table, making eye contact.  “Do you trust me?”

I considered, rather than giving her a knee-jerk answer.  Trust her with my life?  Not exactly.  Trust her with this?

“Sure.”  I smiled.  “Go wild.”

She did, in fluent French, when the waiter returned.  My life was really in her hands now.

“All right,” she said, turning back to me.  “It’s going to be a while, so go ahead and give me something.”

“Something...?”

“You’re coaching me on my acting, remember?”  She grinned.  “So, lay it all out.”

I laughed, glancing away across the restaurant.  “Oh, you don’t want that.  I’m not an actor.  Or anything close.”

“No high school plays?”  She was smirking now.  “Middle school pageants?  Elementary school musicals?”

“Not a one.”

“Look, just...”  She tossed her hair again.  It was sort of terrifying to watch.  “Tell me one thing the show gets wrong.”

I raised my eyebrows.  “What, just one?”

She laughed.  “Artistic license aside.  What about the performances would you change if you could?”

“Seriously, all that comes to mind is hiring a better lion-actor,” I said.  “Which I assume is off the table.”

“Oh god, that friggin lion.”  She groaned, just exaggerated enough you could still believe in it.

“Wait.”  I leaned across the table, looking hard at her.  “They put you guys on set with a live lion?”

Ash shook her head so hard her earrings rattled.  “No, no!”

“Good, because I was about to have to call, I don’t know, OSHA or—”

“You’re sweet, but there's no need.”

“I mean, after Siegfried and Roy, that would’ve just been..."  I gave an exaggerated wince.

“Yes, exactly.”

I leaned back in my seat, heart rate slowing.  Seriously.  As a guy who’d been mauled by a tiger before — and that’d been a tiger who was motivated to keep me alive — I really would’ve gone to the SPCA with a complaint if some off-prime show had been letting its actors in the same room as giant cats for attention.

“The lion's on the same set as the humans, but never at the same time.”  Ash sipped her drink, using the motion to glance around and then lean in closer to me.  “The trainers bring him in, toss a few of his toys on the floor, and let him do whatever he feels like until he inevitably gets bored and drops down for a nap.  Then they send him away, and the producers write the scene around the footage they managed to get.”

There was another click from somewhere to our left, but thankfully no flash.  For good measure I reached across the table, and let Ash put her hand overtop mine.

"Anyway, tell me something else," she said.  "What do you think of Daisy?  Or Zeptron, for that matter?"

I turned my head half-away from the room, speaking in an undertone.  "I thought I wasn't supposed to know too much about A-Town?"

Ash shook her head.  "Just don't answer any reporters' questions about it.  Otherwise we should be fine."

"Okay."  I blew out a breath.  "I mean, I love your work.  Zeptron is, I'm sure I don't have to tell you, the best part of the show.  I assume you've seen the fan sites and know that already."

"According to the fan sites," Ash said, "Trina's the best part of the show.  Followed by Gina, followed by Zeptron.  Not that anyone's counting."

"And Bonnie says I'm a narcissist," I said.

"Maybe she's right.  We all need friends to keep us humble."

Just a hair of emphasis, on the word friends.  Got it.  No talking about Bonnie where the microphones could hear, or at least no acknowledging who she was to me.  "Okay, you want feedback?" I said.  "On how to more realistically be fake-me onscreen?"

"I do," Ash said.  "That's why we're here."

I considered the question.  Obviously if I'd been casting myself I wouldn't have gone for a pouty-lipped blond chick, but that was beside the point.  "Okay, fine," I said.

"Uh-huh?"

"The..."  I raised a hand to my ear, poking at it with the end of my finger.  "What's with the going like this all the time?"

Ash laughed, definitely a real laugh this time.  I was imitating a gesture that she made three, five, sometimes ten times an episode.

"What," I said, laughing myself, "is Zeptron worried she's about to fall out?  Is that what it's supposed to be?  Like a..."  I mimed catching an object that was about to fall out of my own ear.

"Yes."  Ash giggled.  "Yes, I'm adding that to the show notes.  Zeptron is constantly on the verge of falling out, and that's why the..."  She did a much better job than me, of course, of getting across the subtly ominous way that we constantly saw Zeptron patting at Daisy's ear.

"Seriously, though.  Why?"

"Pizza effect, as we say in the biz."  She raised both hands, pressing them to her ears like worried they were about to fall off.  "If someone's pizza delivery arrives midway through the episode, you have to be able to answer the door, pay the driver, sit back on the couch, and pick up the episode without having missed anything important.  And that's not even taking into effect the people who stop channel-surfing and start watching midway through an episode."

"So..."

"So we have to get across the idea that 'Daisy'" — she made air quotes around the name, and I kind of loved her for it — "isn't just the world's meanest teenager for some reason.  We need the audience to catch onto the fact that Daisy isn't Daisy.  And we need to remind them of that fact as often as possible, in case they ordered a pizza before starting the episode."

"Huh.  So you..."  Again I did the ear-poking gesture.  "Okay, fine, that makes sense."  And I did approve of the goal of distinguishing Daisy from Zeptron.  Otherwise you ended up known as Visser Seventeen for the rest of your fucking life.

"Yeah.  Like I said.  We don't want the audience assuming Brandon's sister hates him for no reason."

"Fine, fine, I'll let you guys have the ear-poking thing."

"What else?" she asked.

I blew out a breath.  This was not my wheelhouse, at all, and to be honest I had never watched an entire episode of A-Town from start to finish.  Mostly I absorbed factoids about it from Jake's ranting.  "Uh, my cousin Jordan says that Trina should stop going back and forth between Liam and J.J., and just date them both.  But that doesn't apply to Zeptron."

Ash gave another real laugh.  "Oh, I wish," she said.  "But yeah, that'd be a note for the writing room.  I'm just a humble actor."

The food arrived then, on six different plates.  Which was fortunate, because each one had just a tiny spray of food amidst vast empty space barely broken by sauce.  I hoped we were allowed to eat the garnish as well.  Ash served us, thankfully, using tiny metal tongs to set portions of everything onto two dessert-sized plates.

"Sorry," I said, after I'd swallowed my first bite of... I don't know, maybe a grape leaf and some kind of soft meat?  It was pretty good, to be honest, but not $700 good.  "I'm not much use."

Ash smiled softly, patting her lips with her napkin.  How she was managing to get food into her mouth without smearing her lipstick was one of life's great mysteries.  "That's not true," she said.

Again, she got her meaning across with just a hint of extra emphasis on certain sounds, a tiny tilt of one eyebrow: I was being useful by being here, no actual insider information necessary.  Couldn't have told you how she'd conveyed it, only that she did.  Actors, man.

"Thanks."  I took a drink, and tried not to feel like a galumphing idiot because there was no graceful way for a normie like me to eat on camera.  "Is there anything else specific you want to know about— about Daisy?"  I'd almost said about me, but well.  Eyes and ears everywhere.

"Let's be honest," Ash said.  "I don't play Daisy, at least not 99% of the time.  I play Zeptron 420 pretending to be Daisy."

And if she kept saying shit like that, I really was going to fall in love with her.  "You know what?"  I pulled my napkin off my lap and dropped it on the table, pushing back my chair as if to indicate I was leaving.  "We're done, I can't add anything, you already understand the role better than anyone else on the planet, I cannot possibly hope to gild this lily."

"You're too kind."  Ash smiled, but she also nudged my napkin back toward me with a fingertip.

Got it.  Couldn't make any gestures that could be misinterpreted by the camera.  Whoops.  Dropping the napkin back in my lap, I scooted my chair closer to her and leaned in close to look her in the eye.  "Seriously, though," I said, in a low whisper.  "It gives me a lot of confidence in the show to hear you say that."

"Okay, here's a question."  Ash took another bite of... I don't know, some kind of tiny fresh fruit cubes and some kind of fish?  I hadn't dared try that one yet.  "If you were Daisy, living Daisy's life.  How would you feel about having Brandon as a little brother?"

What immediately came to mind is what it'd feel like to have D-cups as soft and round as hers, right there on my chest, and a push-up bra to put them in.  Almost certainly not what she'd actually been wondering about.

"Brandon," I said, trying to refocus.  "Okay, so.  I'm not Daisy, but.  From my point of view, he's... really annoying, to be honest."

Ash sighed.  "Everyone says that.  Poor Jared."

Jared Kincaid was the actor who played Brandon.  And yeah, if I was him then reading those fan sites would be rough.  I could only imagine.

Not that I had fan sites.  But there were very good reasons I never searched for myself online.  Or read my Wikipedia article.  Or dived too deep into Animorphs forums.  Now if I could only get Jake to follow my example...

"What I mean."  I held up a hand in a hear me out gesture.  "I can't comment on his acting or writing, but Brandon's... really lackadaisical about the war, you know?  And I get that the fictional empire-that-shall-not-be-named isn't nearly as much of a threat as the yeerks were.  But he keeps blowing off missions to play lacrosse games, or go on dates.  And he claims he's in charge of the team any time he's bossing JJ or Trina around, but he never seems to do anything with that power.  It's usually Gina and Liam, or Trina and Crystal, getting back from missions.  Brandon just hangs around his house all the time getting grounded by his parents and bickering with Zeptron."

"Bickering with Zeptron is advancing the war effort, if you think about it," Ash said, but she was smirking.

"In that case, he works harder than the rest of the fauximorphs combined.  I stand corrected."

"Foe-uh-morphs?"

"Oh, uh."  I winced.  Hopefully that wasn't actually insider information.  "What Jake calls the A-Town team.  Originally a Marcoism, I think."

Ash laughed, nodding to herself.  "Fauximorphs.  Works better than 'teen shapeshifter team we can't name onscreen for copyright reasons,' I'd say."

"Is that the only reason?" I asked.

She tilted her head in a question, earrings sliding against her cheek.  She had an ultra-intense way of listening, conveying with everything from the tilt of her eyebrows to her position of her hands that she was hanging on your every word.  Like I said, bright future ahead.

"You never say 'yeerk,' or 'Animorph,'" I said.  "Characters refer to 'those jerks' a bunch, which I assume is meant to imply something, and obviously you've got alien invaders played by eels, but... it's down to copyright?  You know Marco owns the copyright for 'Animorph,' right?  And he works for you."

"Mm."  Ash made a small gesture, raising the first two fingers of her right hand, a let me think, as she chewed another bite of food.  Finally she said, "It's down to taste, I suppose.  Because it is ultimately a fictional show."

"Ha!"

That'd come out too loud — I pressed a hand over my mouth — but it got another genuine laugh from Ash.  And oh, that untouchable goddess veneer was wearing off faster than I wanted it to.  She was acting all too approachable.

She's gay, I reminded myself firmly.  And taken.  And you have a hot girlfriend at home.

"I just..."  I looked down at my plate.  "That's what I keep saying.  It's not a show about the war, not really.  It's a show about a ridiculous version of the war that's not supposed to be realistic, and everyone knows that.  Jake keeps taking it too seriously, you know?"

"I would hope not," Ash said.  "And we aren't trying to depict real yeerks.  That'd be pretty disrespectful, don't you think?"

The whole show was disrespectful as fuck — Jake and I agreed on that much — but even without the cameras, I wouldn't have said that to Ash.  Disrespectful wasn't the worst thing in the world.  It beat valorizing the Animorphs for the purpose of holding them up in contrast to everything allegedly wrong with the current generation, which was the most common alternative I'd encountered.

"What about you?" I offered instead.  "What do you think Daisy thinks of Brandon?"

"Oh, man."  She blew out a breath.  "I think she's sad, mostly.  She probably misses hanging out with him, and it has to upset her how much Zeptron bullies him.  I also think she's proud of him being such a good lacrosse player, like maybe she used to look forward to them being on high school lacrosse teams together before—"

"Okay, okay!"  My hand was clenched around my fork; I forced my fingers open.  "Okay."

"It's nice filming in California, where the weather usually cooperates," she said.  Checking in again.

"It does rain here sometimes," I said.  And then, "You're very good.  You know that?  Whatever they're paying you, it isn't enough."

"Mmmm, can I quote you on that next time I'm talking to my agent?"  She smiled with her lips, but her gaze was searching mine.

"Oh, please do."  I did my best to smile reassuringly.  And then, because I sucked at nonverbal communication.  "I asked the question, dude.  You answered.  But go ahead, hit me with another one."

There was a click to our right, another camera shutter going off.  Knowing my luck, I'd managed to get food in my teeth or bunch up my pants at a weird angle.

"How do you feel about Zeptron and JJ's romance?"  Ash lobbed a lowball at me.

"She should've stuck with her banana slug boyfriend," I said.  "Would Daisy want to date JJ, in your opinion?"

Ash tilted her head, then shook it.  "He's too young for her.  And she's secretly all punk and alternative, if you've seen any of the episodes with her cameos.  JJ's kind of a poser, you know?"

"Plus, he cheats on all his girlfriends."

"Exactly."

"How's Marco feel about JJ, anyway?" I asked.  There were obvious differences, from the Italian actor and buzz cut to the inexplicable decision to have him use duck as his battle morph, but he was Brandon's best friend, the team's comic relief, the only one with an immigrant mom, and the one with the most girlfriends.  That, and his mom was either a homicidal sadist or else being controlled by a yeerk that bore a suspicious resemblance to Visser One.

"Have you ever," Ash said, "and I mean ever, gotten a straight answer out of Marco about anything?"

"Oh, hell no," I said immediately.  "I think Jake can — that's his superpower.  But me?  No way, Jose."

"Yes, he's very good at this kind of thing." She didn't mean acting, of course. Or at least, not the kind that one did on TV.

"Scarily good, some would say," I muttered.

"Oh?"

"Okay, you—" I lowered my voice. "You remember Tennantgate, right?"

Ash nodded, of course, even though she was frowning in confusion. William Roger Tennant, America's most beloved hippie, caught on camera trying to strangle a dog. The most-played news clip of the year, at least in California.

"What if I told you," I said quietly, "that Tennant was...?" I made that yeerk-falling-out-of-ear gesture again, to get her to laugh. "And that it just so happens Marco Alvarez's stepmom owns a white toy poodle?"

Ash choked on a sip of water, putting a hand to her chest in surprise. I exerted heroic effort not to follow the direction of that hand too closely. "But how?" she whispered, when she'd recovered. "How would you even engineer something like that? They'd have to know exactly where he'd be when, how he'd react, that it'd happen exactly as the cameras turned on..."

I held up both hands in an open-palm shrug. "You've got me. Like you said, he's very good."

"It's funny."  Ash glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot.  I leaned in close to her, and she leaned across the table to meet me.  With her lips an inch from my cheek — she didn't touch my ear, we'd covered that — she whispered, "I asked Marco on this date first.  He said no.  Said that actually, he's thinking of... you know.  Telling people."

I sat back, looking at her.  Hopefully that little moment had looked plenty intimate for the cameras.  She'd even managed a blush, how I had no idea.  The red wine, maybe.

And then it hit me.  Coming out.  Marco was thinking of coming out.  "I..."  I took a breath.  "I hope... Whatever happens, it works for him."

Because he wasn't untouchable, not really, but he was about as close as you could get.  Elton John famous.  Anderson Cooper, Ellen Degeneres, Rachel Maddow famous.  Famous enough that losing all sponsorships and acting gigs, getting dragged through the mud and spat on by former fans, wouldn't be enough to ruin his life or his legacy.  Famous enough to pave the way for other boys who dated boys, for people like Ash to maybe someday not have to lie.

It was the difference between Arnold Schwarzenegger taking a four-by-four to the face, and Carrie Fisher taking that same four-by-four.  The blow was coming no matter what, and it'd hurt like hell when it did.  The only question was if it'd leave you enough marbles to straighten up and keep swinging.

Ash smiled weakly, and this time it looked genuine.  "And you know what I hope."

Yeah.  Because if the four-by-four hit Marco, maybe it'd only be a two-by-four by the time it got to her.

"Ash, I..."

You know why I agreed to come on this date? I lied earlier, about not reading my Wikipedia entry. I did, just once, not that long after it was posted. The first two sentences were about Jake. The rest was about Essa 412.

For more information, Wikipedia suggested, I'd want to read the entry for Visser Seventeen.

Seemed kind of pathetic, when you thought about it. I'd agreed to this little farce to be slightly more famous, for something I'd done for once. Ash...

She was lying, right now, because she had to. Because there was no choice. Not if she wanted to live in peace, wanted Sierra to live in peace. She couldn't come here on a date, not a real one, not to any restaurant anywhere someone might have a camera. Her hand was resting on mine, and she couldn't do that with the person she actually wanted. Sure, a century ago Bonnie and I would've been illegal in California, if her parents had been allowed in at all, but a hell of a lot had changed since then. There was no comparison.

It made me feel small and shabby, to have it all laid out like that.

"I..."  There was nothing I could say.  Not in public, and not when this wasn't my fight. "I hope you go on more dates here," I said at last.

"And I..."  Now Ash's smile was definitely fake again, even to the point of being a little sarcastic.  "Hope you're with me when I do."

I winked at her.  That was unlikely, since we'd agreed we would be at most photographed walking around together one more time before slow-fading into tabloid mystery.  But for now... "Dessert?" I said.

"Dessert," she agreed.

[woozinhos]

HI!! Congrats on 1K! So deserved! Umm, can i please request a scenario 8 with Scoups? Thanks hehe

Drunken Encounters

Notes: gang my lord you’re gonna want to read this one this is why I was gone so long

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Smut below the cut

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You laughed and cheered with your friends as you downed another shot, the alcohol burning your throat as it went down. The night was young, and the music was loud as you all danced and sang along to the songs blasting through the speakers. One of your friends, a cheeky smile on her face, leaned in and said, "Let's do a shot train! Last one to finish has to buy the next round!" Your group immediately agreed, and soon enough you were all lining up, passing a shot glass back and forth until you reached the end of the line.

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you gulped down the liquid fire, slamming the glass down on the table with a triumphant grin. Your friends erupted into cheers, and you high-fived each other, feeling victorious. As the night wore on, you found yourself feeling more and more buzzed, the alcohol starting to take effect. You swayed a little as you made your way to the bar to order another round of drinks, your friends giggling and stumbling along beside you.

You leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender to take your order, when suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see a handsome stranger standing behind you, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey," he said, his voice smooth and deep. "Mind if I buy you a drink?" You were taken aback for a moment, not expecting such a forward approach. You glanced at your friends, who were all watching the interaction with wide eyes and grins on their faces. You turned back to the stranger and shrugged, deciding to play along.

"Sure," you said, returning his smile. "Why not?" The stranger signaled to the bartender, ordering two drinks before turning his attention back to you. "I'm Seungcheol," he introduced himself, his eyes roaming over your face. He was handsome, with dark hair and a charming smile. There was something about him that made you feel a little flustered, even in your tipsy state.

"Nice to meet you, Seungcheol," you replied, trying to sound cool and collected despite the butterflies in your stomach. The bartender slid the drinks over, and Seungcheol handed one to you. He leaned against the bar, his body close to yours, and took a sip of his drink. "So, what brings a pretty girl like you out to a place like this?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but you tried to play it cool. "Just out with some friends," you said, gesturing to your group who were still watching you and Seungcheol intently. "Trying to have a good time." Seungcheol glanced over at your friends, giving them a nod of acknowledgement before turning back to you.

"Looks like you're doing a pretty good job of that," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. You chuckled and took a sip of your drink, feeling more relaxed in Seungcheol's presence. "So, what about you?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. "What brings you to this bar tonight?" Seungcheol shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Just looking for some fun," he said casually. "And I have to say, I think I found it." He flashed you a charming smile, his eyes flickering over your body in a way that made you shiver. You felt your pulse quicken as Seungcheol's gaze roamed over you, his expression growing more intense.

"You know, I've never seen you around here before," he said, taking a step closer to you. "Are you new to the city?" You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your belly at his proximity. "No, I've lived here for a while," you replied, your voice coming out a little breathless. "I just don't usually come to this part of town." Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk, as if he was enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"Lucky me, then," he said, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "I would have missed out on meeting you if you hadn't come tonight." You felt your breath catch in your throat as he leaned in closer, his body now pressed against yours. He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from his, completely mesmerized by his intense stare. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and it made you feel dizzy with desire. "Can I ask you something?" he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from your ear. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Anything," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. Seungcheol's grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, his voice low and husky. You shook your head, your mind racing with a million thoughts and feelings.

"No," you replied, your voice shaking slightly. "I'm not seeing anyone." Seungcheol's lips curled into a satisfied smile, and he let out a soft hum of approval. "Good," he said, his hand trailing up your spine. "Because I'm not one to share." Seungcheol leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

"Want to get out of here?" he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I live nearby, and I'd love to spend more time with you... just the two of us." Your heart was racing as you considered his offer. You glanced over at your friends, who were all watching the two of you with excited expressions.

They knew exactly what was happening, and they were all giving you thumbs up and winks of encouragement. You turned back to Seungcheol, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'd like that." Seungcheol's eyes lit up with pleasure, and he gave you a triumphant grin.

"Perfect," he said, taking your hand in his and pulling you away from the bar. "Let's go." As you walked out of the bar with Seungcheol, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. The night air was cool against your skin, and you felt a sense of freedom as you followed him down the street. He kept his hand entwined with yours, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. As you walked, your mind raced with thoughts and doubts.

You knew that one night stands were something you'd never done before, and you couldn't help but wonder if this was a good idea. But the way Seungcheol made you feel, the way he looked at you, and the way he made your body react...it was hard to resist. As you reached his apartment building, Seungcheol turned to you, a sly smile on his face. "We're here," he said, leading you inside and up to his floor. He unlocked the door to his apartment and ushered you inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You found yourself standing in the middle of his living room, your heart pounding in your chest. The apartment was clean and modern, with sleek furniture and a view of the city skyline from the large windows. Seungcheol walked over to you, his eyes roaming over your body once again. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing to the couch. "Can I get you anything to drink?" You sat down on the couch, feeling a bit awkward and out of place.

"Um, sure," you replied, trying to appear nonchalant. "Water would be great, thanks." Seungcheol nodded and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. You took the glass from him, your fingers lingering on his for a moment before you pulled away. Seungcheol sat down next to you on the couch, his thigh pressed against yours. He studied you for a moment, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

"You're so beautiful when you smile," he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled shyly at his compliment, your eyes roaming around the room as you took in the expensive furnishings and artwork on the walls. "Thanks," you said, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were in this man's apartment. "This place is really nice." Seungcheol chuckled and leaned back against the couch, his arm resting on the back of it behind you.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your shoulder. "I work hard for what I have." You felt his fingers against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You took a sip of water, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room. "What do you do for work?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation casual. Seungcheol smiled and shook his head, his expression a little mysterious.

"Let's not talk about work," he said, his voice low and seductive. "I'd much rather focus on us right now." He leaned in closer, you felt your heart rate quicken once again. His body was pressed against yours now, his face mere inches away from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. Seungcheol's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and full of need. "I don't know why, but I can't get you out of my head," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Ever since I saw you at the bar, I've wanted you more than anything."

"Is that so?" you replied, a hint of playfulness in your voice. You weren't sure where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from, but you rolled with it. You leaned in closer to him, your body pressed against his.

"And what exactly do you want to do with me?" Seungcheol's eyes darkened with lust as he felt your body against his. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap and making you straddle him. "Oh, I can think of a few things," he said, his hands gripping your hips possessively. His lips crashed onto yours in a fierce and passionate kiss. He kissed you like a man starved, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip with an urgent need. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back with equal fervor. Your body pressed against his, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your fingers. Seungcheol's hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he nipped and sucked on your bottom lip. He pulled away from the kiss, his breathing heavy and ragged.

"Let's go to my bedroom," he repeated, his voice low and husky. "I need you, now." Without waiting for a response, Seungcheol lifted you off his lap and stood up, his arms still wrapped around you. He carried you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him as he entered. The room was dimly lit, with a large bed in the center and a view of the city skyline from the windows. He laid you down on the bed, his body covering yours as he continued to kiss you. His hands roamed over your body, his touch hot and possessive as he began to undress you.

As he unbuttoned your dress and slipped it off your shoulders, you couldn't help but think to yourself “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” His lips moved down to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your collarbone. You arched your back, offering yourself up to him as he continued to explore your body with his mouth. His hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with practiced ease and tossing it aside. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with desire as he took in the sight of your exposed skin.

He smirked down at you, his gaze raking over your body with a possessive glint in his eyes. He quickly removed his own clothes, his body revealing itself to you in all its toned and muscular glory. You couldn't help but stare at him, your eyes roaming over every inch of his naked form. He was beautiful, every muscle defined and hard beneath his smooth skin. He leaned down over you again, his body pressed against yours as he captured your lips in another searing kiss.

As he kissed you, his hands continued to roam over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He nipped and sucked on your skin, leaving marks along your neck and collarbone. His hands reached down to your hips, pulling you closer to him as he ground his hips against yours. You could feel his hardness pressed against you, the evidence of his desire making your own body respond in kind. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked down at you with a hungry expression.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "I can't get enough of you." You wondered what it would feel like to have him inside you, your thoughts running wild with desire. You reached down and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "Seungcheol," you whispered, your voice filled with need. "I want you." He growled in response, his eyes darkening with even more desire at your words.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he said, his voice low and rough. "I've been wanting to take you since the moment I saw you." He reached down between your legs, his fingers tracing a path up your inner thigh. You watched as he pulled himself out of his boxers, your eyes widening at the sight of him. He was big, bigger than you had expected. He saw the look on your face and smirked again, his ego clearly boosted by your reaction.

"You like what you see, don't you?" he teased, his hand wrapping around himself as he stroked himself slowly. You nodded, your eyes still fixed on his body as he touched himself. "I want to feel you inside me," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Seungcheol groaned at your words, his hand moving faster as he continued to touch himself.

“You're driving me crazy," he said, his voice strained with desire. "I can't wait any longer." He reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a condom from the drawer. He tore open the packet with his teeth and rolled it on, his eyes never leaving yours. He positioned himself between your legs, his body hovering over you as he lined himself up with your entrance. He looked down at you, his eyes burning with need.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper. You nodded, your body aching for him to take you. "Yes," you breathed out, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "I'm ready." With that, he slowly pushed into you, filling you completely. He groaned as he felt your body clench around him, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

"You're so tight," he gritted out, his voice strained. "You feel so good." He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. He wanted to savor the feeling of being inside you, to make sure you felt every inch of him. But as your moans and gasps grew louder, his restraint began to fade, and his movements became faster and more urgent. His hips snapped against yours, his body moving in a rhythm that had you seeing stars. He reached down and began to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He looked down at you, his smile growing wider as he saw the look of ecstasy on your face.

"You're so responsive," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I love how you react to me." He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he continued to thrust into you. His movements were becoming more and more erratic, his control slipping as he chased his own release. You could feel him getting closer, his body tensing as he fought to hold back. He broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours as he panted heavily. "I'm not going to last much longer," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips.

"It's okay," you whispered, your voice breathless. "I'm close too." He growled at your words, his movements becoming even more frenzied. "Cum for me," he said, his voice commanding. "I want to feel you come undone around me." His words pushed you over the edge, your body tensing as your orgasm washed over you. You cried out his name, your nails raking down his back as you came undone.

The feeling of you clenching around him sent him spiraling into his own release, and he buried his face in your neck as he groaned out your name. He collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and sated. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he tried to catch his breath. "That was incredible," he murmured, his voice still rough from pleasure. He carefully pulled out of you and removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash.

He flopped down next to you on the bed, a satisfied grin on his face. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tightly against his chest. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. He looked down at you, his eyes softening as he spoke. "Stay the night with me," he said, his voice low and persuasive. "I don't want to let you go just yet." You nodded, your heart skipping a beat at his request.

"Okay," you whispered, snuggling closer to him. "I'll stay." He pulled the blankets up over the two of you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against him. He placed another kiss on your head before nuzzling his face into your hair, his body relaxing as he began to drift off to sleep. You lay there in his arms, feeling safe and content. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his soft breathing lulled you into a state of relaxation, and before you knew it, you were falling asleep as well.

You slowly opened your eyes, still groggy from sleep. You blinked a few times, taking in your surroundings and realizing you were still in Seungcheol's bed. You looked over at him, seeing that he was still asleep. His face was relaxed and peaceful, and he was snoring softly. You reached for your phone and saw that you had several missed calls and messages from your friends. Curious, you opened your phone and saw a series of pictures of Seungcheol, all from different angles.

The messages from your friends were filled with excitement and disbelief, each one expressing their shock at the revelation that Seungcheol was an idol. One of them even sent you a link to a celebrity news site that had a story about him. Your heart started racing as you realized that the man you had spent the night with was not just any man, but the Seungcheol Scoups from seventeen. You felt a mix of emotions - shock, excitement, and a hint of nervousness.

You couldn't believe that you had slept with someone who was in the spotlight, and you wondered what this meant for the two of you going forward. You set your phone aside, trying to process everything that had just happened. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your racing heart, but it was difficult with the realization of who Seungcheol really was weighing heavily on your mind. You glanced over at him, still asleep beside you, and wondered what his life must be like as an idol.

As you watched, Seungcheol began to stir in his sleep. He groaned softly and shifted slightly, his arms tightening around you unconsciously. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his body instinctively seeking out your warmth. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at you with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He pulled you closer to him, his body still heavy with fatigue but his touch still gentle. He looked at you with a mix of surprise and happiness.

"I can't believe you're still here," he repeated, his voice filled with awe. "I was worried you might leave before I woke up."

"I wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye," you said, a small smile on your face. He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing small circles on your back.

"I'm glad," he said, his expression turning serious. "I wanted to spend more time with you before you go." As you spoke, Seungcheol noticed the slight tension in your body and the nervousness in your eyes. He studied your face for a moment before speaking again. "Hey," he said softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit nervous." As you avoided his gaze, Seungcheol's smile faded and he let out a soft sigh.

He knew that you knew the truth about him, and he could sense that it was weighing heavily on your mind. He ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly anxious himself. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't want to tell you because I was worried about how you would react. I didn't want you to see me differently just because I'm an idol." You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions.

"It's not that I see you differently," you said, your voice quiet. "It's just...I didn't expect to be sleeping with someone who's famous." Seungcheol's expression softened as he smiled at you, hoping that you would still want to see him again despite his celebrity status. "I understand," he said gently. "But I hope you know that I really like you, and I want to see you again. Not just because I'm an idol, but because I genuinely enjoy spending time with you."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling torn.

On one hand, you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him and the way he made you feel. On the other hand, you weren't sure if getting involved with an idol was a good idea. Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke. "I like you too," you said quietly. "But this whole situation is complicated, don't you think?" Seungcheol's smile widened as you said you liked him too.

"I know it's complicated," he agreed. "But I want to make it work. I want to try, if you're willing to give me a chance." Your heart fluttered as you nodded, agreeing to give him a chance. Seungcheol's eyes lit up with relief and happiness, and he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "Thank you," he said, burying his face in your hair. "I promise I'll do my best to make it work. I don't want to lose you."

Who thought sleeping with a guy from the bar would lead to this.

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Who doesn’t love a good bunny suit fanfic? This little piece was inspired by the incredible artwork of @alienfreak124. I’m always in awe of her creations—her OC is so cool! Honestly, every time I see her work, I wish I had the talent to draw. T-T Always wanted to see what my OC would look like in the Tkatb fandom.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Also, I’ve been thinking about branching out into other fandoms—Creepypasta is definitely at the top of the list since it was such a huge part of my childhood. Ticci Toby has always been my favorite, and I’m super excited to dive into that world. I’m also considering Death Note and Black Butler, but who knows? 

For now, I’m pretty set on exploring the creepy side first, especially with all the dark, twisted fandoms.

Anyway, I’ve got about three fics in the works for these lovely men—Crowe, Sol, and Geo. But it’s gonna be one day at a time because, let’s be real, I need to stop posting these things so damn late. College life is getting hectic, but I’m making it work, even if it means less sleep.

Priorities, right?

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of a plain black dress.

It’s simple, safe, and exactly the kind of outfit you’d usually wear to a small party. You tilt your head, trying to decide if “simple” is too boring. The party isn’t exactly a big deal—just a casual gathering—but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind: 

Crowe’s going to be there.

Before you can overthink it, there’s a sudden knock at your door. “Hey! Open up!” Brittney’s voice is unmistakable—high-energy and impossible to ignore. You sigh, already knowing she’s about to upend whatever plans you’ve made for the evening. 

When you open the door, Brittney bursts in like a hurricane, her arms overflowing with what looks like… fur? No, it’s worse. It’s a bunny costume—a black bodysuit with matching ears, fishnet tights, and heels so high they look like a twisted form of punishment. 

“Oh no,” you say immediately, holding up your hands in protest. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Brittney waves the outfit in front of you like it’s the Holy Grail. “It’s perfect! It’s fun, it’s flirty, and you’ll steal the spotlight! Imagine the look on everyone’s faces when you walk in wearing this. Especially Crowe.”

Your stomach flips at the mention of his name, but you shake your head. “There’s no way I’m wearing that. I’ll look ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?” Brittney scoffs, planting her hands on her hips. “Please. You’ll look hot. Besides, when was the last time you did something bold? Live a little!” She leans in, grinning mischievously. “And, you know, Crowe might notice.”

You roll your eyes, but you can feel your resolve cracking. “Brittney, I’m not trying to ‘steal the spotlight.’ I just want to blend in.”

“Blend in?” She gasps like you’ve just insulted her personally. “Blending in is for cowards. And you’re not a coward, are you?”

“...You’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Is it working?”

Unfortunately, yes. You stare at the bunny suit like it’s a wild animal that might bite you, but part of you can’t help wondering: What if Brittney’s right? What if Crowe actually notices?

“Fine,” you say, at last, snatching the costume from her hands. “But if I look stupid, I’m blaming you.”

Brittney claps her hands in triumph. “You’ll look amazing, trust me! Now, hurry up and get dressed—I need to see the final look.”

You sigh and shut the door, holding up the bunny suit with a mix of dread and curiosity.

This is either the best idea or the worst mistake.

The moment you step into the party, a hush falls over the room—or at least it feels like it. The warm glow of string lights strung across the ceiling doesn’t do much to soothe the nerves twisting in your stomach. You keep your head down, gripping a drink you barely remember picking up, and try to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re dressed like a bunny in a room full of people dressed... normally.  

Brittney, of course, is loving every second of it. She’s practically glowing as she flits around the room, dropping comments like, “Isn’t she adorable?” and “Doesn’t she look amazing?” to anyone within earshot. You glare at her from across the room, but she just winks and mouths, “You’re welcome.”

You hover near the edge of the crowd, trying to blend into the background. It’s ironic, considering the ridiculous outfit, but you figure if you keep still enough, maybe no one will notice. That plan works for about five minutes—until you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye.  

Crowe.  

He’s leaning against the wall near the bookshelf, casually sipping from a glass, his posture as effortlessly relaxed as ever. Even in the soft glow of the party lights, he’s sharp, dressed in his usual clean, put-together style that somehow manages to look both formal and casual at the same time. He always looks like he belongs on a magazine cover—button-up sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he listens to someone talk.

You freeze, torn between retreating to the nearest shadowy corner and pretending you haven’t seen him, or... well, doing something else. But then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Crowe looks up—and the moment his gaze lands on you, it’s like the rest of the party fades into the background.  

You brace yourself, half-expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, his eyebrows lift slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into what might just be the faintest hint of a smirk. He takes another sip of his drink, sets the glass down, and begins making his way toward you.  

Oh no.

Before you can figure out an escape route, he’s standing in front of you, tall and composed, with that cool, unreadable expression that makes your heart do ridiculous things.  

His expression is calm and unreadable, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes that immediately sets you on edge. The drink in your hand suddenly feels useless as you clutch it tightly, wishing you had anything to focus on besides the way Crowe’s gaze is very obviously trailing over your bunny suit. Slowly.

“Nice to see you decided to... dress up,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement as he comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes flicker from your bunny ears to the tights and back to your face, where your mortified expression only seems to fuel his teasing.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you say quickly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Brittney made me wear it. She said it’ll steal the spotlight or whatever…”  

Crowe raises a brow, his smirk deepening as he leans just slightly closer. “Oh, I believe you. But she didn’t make you come to me wearing it, did she?”

You sputter, your face heating up. “I didn’t come to you! You walked over here!”

“Did I?” he asks innocently, his smirk widening into something outright devilish. “Must’ve been the bunny ears. Hard to miss.”

You glare at him, your mind racing for some kind of witty comeback, but it’s hard to think when his gaze keeps darting to your legs, the curve of your waist, and then back to your face, like he’s deliberately making a show of it.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his tone maddeningly casual. “She wasn’t wrong.”  

Your brain short-circuits. He did not just say that.

“Excuse me?”  

“About the spotlight,” he clarifies, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention.”  

You rolled your eyes, “You’re ridiculous,” crossing your arms over your chest.

“And you’re very bold,” he counters smoothly. His voice drops a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. But I’m curious—how many people have tried their luck with you tonight?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

You can’t decide whether to tell the truth to him or strangle him. 

“Come on,” he says, his smirk turning positively wicked. “In that outfit? You must have half the room staring. Though...” He leans in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I doubt anyone else is appreciating it quite as much as I am.”

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure your face is about to burst into flames. “Crowe, you can’t just—”

“Say the truth?” he interrupts smoothly, stepping just close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his blueberry cologne. “Oh, I can. And I will.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Crowe’s gaze shifts, scanning the room. The teasing glint in his deep blue eyes is replaced with something sharper, almost protective, as he takes in the prying eyes of the other partygoers.

“Too many people here,” Crowe mutters, his voice low enough that it feels like the words are meant only for him. Then he glances back at you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your breath hitch. “Let’s leave.”  

“What?”  

“I said, let’s leave.” His hand brushes lightly against your elbow, the fleeting touch sending a spark up your arm. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable but heavy with something unspoken. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and let everyone keep gawking at you like you’re... on display.”  

Your eyes dart around the room, catching glimpses of the subtle but unmistakable stares in your direction. The air feels suffocating now, and the idea of staying in this crowded space seems unbearable. Still, you hesitate, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence.  

“Fine,” you say at last, forcing an air of nonchalance even as your pulse quickens. “But if you’re planning to tease me, I’m leaving the second you start.”  

Crowe chuckles—a deep, smooth sound that does nothing to steady your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk as he places a hand lightly on the small of your back to guide you toward the door. “I’ll behave.”  

You’re not entirely convinced, but before you can second-guess your decision, the two of you are stepping into the cool night air. The sharp contrast to the party’s stuffy warmth sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not just the chill that has you trembling.  

Crowe’s steps are deliberate, his presence magnetic as he walks you to his car. He unlocks the passenger door with a smooth motion, holding it open for you before rounding the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The quiet thud of the door closing feels heavier in the silence, the hum of the engine breaking the tension only slightly.  

“Brittney’s going to wonder where I went,” you say softly, partly to yourself, as Crowe pulls out of the driveway.  

“I’ll text her later,” he replies, his tone calm but firm. “She’ll survive.”  

The car is dimly lit, the glow of passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. You can feel his gaze flicking toward you every so often, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle.  

He doesn’t speak for a while, but the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged—like the air before a storm. You’re hyper-aware of every detail: the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the faint scent of his cologne filling the small space, the way his jaw tightens whenever you catch him sneaking glances.  

“You shouldn’t let her talk you into things like that,” he says suddenly, his voice lower now, almost rough.  

“Like what?” you ask, even though you know exactly what he means.  

He glances at you briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line before his expression softens. “Like wearing something that makes every guy in the room look at you like they’ve forgotten how to think.”  

The words are sharper than you expect, tinged with an edge of possessiveness that makes your breath catch.  

“I thought you didn’t mind people staring,” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.  

“I don’t,” he says, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Unless it’s you.”  

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and electrifying. You look over at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no teasing smirk now, no easy charm—just raw, unguarded honesty in his gaze as he pulls the car to a stop at the side of the road.  

He turns to face you fully, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something unmistakable.  

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the words rough with restraint.  

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The heat in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel pinned in place by the sheer intensity of it.  

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” he continues, his tone rough and uneven now, “but seeing you tonight, dressed like that, letting everyone else see you like that…” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It drove me crazy.”  

The air in the car feels thick, charged with an unspoken tension that’s almost suffocating. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breaths shallow as you sit still, unsure of what to say—or if there’s even anything you should say. The silence stretches out, heavy and electric, until Crowe shifts closer to you, his movements deliberate yet almost hesitant.  

His hand rises, and for a moment, you think he might stop midway. But then his fingers gently brush against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is light, almost feather-soft, yet it lingers—his fingertips trailing against your skin just long enough to leave a burning imprint.  

“Please tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, the faintest edge of uncertainty in his tone. 

A shiver races up your spine at the feel of his touch, and the heat of his proximity makes it impossible to think straight. Your breath hitches, and you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You manage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching, as though he’s looking for any sign of hesitation.  

“And if I don’t want you to stop?” you whisper, your voice trembling but carrying a weight of undeniable desire.  

His breath catches, his chest rising sharply as though you’ve just knocked the air out of him. His eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his usually composed face. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to convince himself he heard you correctly.  

You don’t reply right away—words feel clumsy in the intensity of this moment. Crowe’s gaze lingers on you, steady and deliberate, traveling down the length of your figure and then back up again. His eyes seem darker in the dim light, their usual cool detachment replaced by something unreadable, something that makes your pulse race. His smirk is still there, faint but unshakable, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.  

Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can think is how badly you don’t want this moment to end. Then, before your mind has time to catch up, your body moves on instinct. Slowly, deliberately, you take a step forward, closing the distance between you.  

His head tilts slightly as he watches you, his smirk faltering for just a heartbeat as you climb onto his lap. Your knees press into the seat on either side of him, the soft material of your tights brushing against his thighs.  

For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels heavy, charged with something neither of you can name. His reaction is immediate—sharp and visceral. He inhales quickly, his chest rising under yours, and his hands lift instinctively to your hips. His grip is firm yet hesitant, his fingers flexing slightly as though he’s testing the reality of the situation.  

You’re glad you caught him like this—off-guard, unguarded. It’s rare to see him anything but composed, but now? Now, his usual confidence feels shaken, his calm veneer cracking just enough to let you peek underneath.  

“No,” you whisper, your voice low and thick with emotion. “Please don’t stop.”  

The tension in his shoulders eases, but only slightly. His body remains taut beneath yours, every muscle coiled like a spring. His hands tighten against your hips as if anchoring himself—or maybe anchoring you. He leans forward, and the closeness is dizzying. His breath fans against your neck, warm and teasing, and goosebumps rise across your skin in response.  

His lips hover near your ear, his voice low and husky, dripping with intent as he murmurs, “Then I won’t.”  

The promise in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. His hands shift from your hips, sliding upward in slow, deliberate movements that leave you breathless. His thumbs trace over your waist, the faintest pressure sparking heat in their wake. His fingers move higher, brushing against your sides, and you can’t stop the way your body responds, arching slightly into his touch.  

Crowe’s lips ghost against the edge of your jaw, and you swear the world narrows to just the two of you. There’s nothing but his touch, his breath, and the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears.  

May got a little carried away here…

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

You don’t know how it happened. 

So okay, you do know how it happened—you were dumb enough to bet against Hyugo. The guy might be obnoxious, loud, and silly as hell, but unfortunately, he’s also good at literally everything. Somehow, that fact slipped your mind when you let him talk you into betting on the last round of a stupid game.  

It was one of those chaotic, anything-goes types of games, the kind where people are shouting over each other, rules barely make sense, and luck has just as much sway as skill. You don’t even remember what it was called—something involving a blindfold, ping pong balls, and a lot of yelling. I’m kidding here…

All you know is that Hyugo had that stupid grin on his face, the one he always wears when he knows he’s about to win.  

“Come on,” he’d said, his voice dripping with smugness as he leaned against the table. “You scared or something? What’s the worst that could happen?”  

And like an idiot, you fell for it. “I’m not scared,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re on.”  

Big mistake.  

Because five minutes later, you were standing there in stunned silence, staring at Hyugo’s triumphant face as he held up his winning ping pong ball like it was an Olympic gold medal.  

“Wow, that was almost too easy!” he said, laughing as he clapped you on the shoulder. “You really thought you could beat me?.”  

You scowled, already regretting your life choices. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want?”  

His grin widened, and you instantly knew you were doomed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice practically oozing with fake innocence. “It’s nothing crazy. Just a little outfit change for, let’s say... an hour?”  

Your stomach dropped. “What kind of outfit change? I have a movie night at Sol’s place later,”  

And now here you are, standing in Sol’s dimly lit studio apartment, wearing a bunny suit that makes you feel about three sizes too exposed and questioning every decision you’ve ever made.  

The small space smells like popcorn and energy drinks, and there’s a paused horror movie on the screen, but all of that pales in comparison to the look on Sol’s face.  

He hasn’t stopped staring since you walked in.  

The guy is sitting on his beat-up couch, one leg tucked under him, the TV remote hanging limp in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, and his face?  

Bright red.  

Like, glowing tomato-red, borderline matching the devil on the movie poster behind him.  

“…What are you doing?” he finally chokes out, his voice cracking just enough to make you raise an eyebrow. He clears his throat and tries again, this time deeper: “I mean, what’s this?” He gestures vaguely at you, but his hand is shaking a little, so it’s not exactly smooth.  

You cross your arms, trying to tug the hem of the skirt down, but there’s no saving it—it’s just too short. “Lost a bet to Hyugo,” you mumble, your voice flat, as if that explains everything.  

Sol squints at you, the disbelief radiating off him in waves. “Hyugo made you do this?” His tone flips between outraged and incredulous. His eyes dart down to the whole getup—bunny ears, fishnets, the thigh-high socks—and then snap back up so fast you think he might’ve given himself a neck cramp. “Ugh… He’s the worst sometimes.”  

“Yeah, thanks for the groundbreaking insight,” you deadpan, shooting him a withering glare. “I figured that out the moment Hyugo handed me this thing.”  

Sol drags a hand through his perpetually messy hair, clearly grappling with some kind of inner turmoil. “You didn’t have to wear it, though,” he mutters, his usual grumbly tone edged with something oddly defensive. “You could’ve just… I dunno, said no.”  

You blink at him, unimpressed. “Oh, sure. And let Hyugo post that video of me tripping like an idiot in front of the entire campus? An excellent alternative, Sol. Really genius stuff.”

He makes a weird noise in his throat, half a groan, half something else, and he mutters, “Still better than this…” But his eyes betray him.

Because despite the whole “ugh, this is dumb” act, Sol keeps looking. Like, really looking. His gaze lingers on your bunny ears, the curve of the bodysuit, and the thigh-high socks that are making you wish the couch would swallow you whole. Every time his eyes travel down, they snap back up so fast you’d think he got whiplash.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, mostly for your sanity. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, dragging his hand down his face with a groan. “Whatever. I’m not the one dressed like…” His words trail off as he waves vaguely in your direction, his ears reddening again as if even describing the outfit is too much for him.  

You sigh and plop down on his old couch because there’s literally nowhere else to go in this shoebox of an apartment. As soon as you do, Sol freezes like you’ve just stepped on a landmine. His whole body stiffens, his hands gripping his knees, and you swear he stops breathing.

“Relax,” you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh. “It’s not like I want to be here in this dumb outfit either.”

“You don’t look unhappy,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it.

Your head snaps toward him, catching the faintest flicker of his eyes darting to your outfit before immediately locking onto the popcorn bowl on the coffee table like it’s his last lifeline. His face is ‘burning’, and it only gets worse when he realizes you caught him looking.  

“Excuse me?” you ask, leaning in slightly because you can’t let him off the hook that easily.  

“I didn’t—” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat so violently it’s almost painful. “I just meant—uh, never mind.” But his ears are practically glowing, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.  

“Sure, okay,” you say, smirking as you settle deeper into the couch, fully intending to mess with him now. “It’s not like you’ve been staring at me like a creep since I walked in or anything.”  

“I wasn’t staring!” he blurts, far too defensively for someone who was. He drags a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up even more as he groans like he’s on the verge of losing it.  

“Oh, you weren’t?” you tease, tilting your head. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to your legs for half a second before darting away. His hands curl into fists on his lap, and his breathing sounds... uneven.

Fast.  

One second, you’re sitting on the couch, awkwardly avoiding his gaze, and the next, you’re swept up off the cushions. His arms slide under you, one wrapping around your back and the other hooking beneath your knees, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry.  

“Sol!” you shriek, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. “What are you—put me down!”  

But he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers himself back onto the couch, keeping you securely in his hold. Your legs dangle awkwardly over his arm, your heels threatening to slip off, and you’re acutely aware of how close your faces are now—his warm breath brushing against your skin, his sharp eyes fixed on yours.  

“Relax,” he mutters, his tone gruff but oddly soft. “You were fidgeting too much. Thought you were about to hurt yourself or something.”  

“Hurt what now?!” you snap, glaring at him even as your cheeks flush. “I wasn’t—Sol, that doesn’t even make sense. Let me go.”  

“Not yet,” he says simply, his grip tightening slightly as if daring you to try and wriggle free.  

You glare at him, but the heat of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure. His eyes flicker down for a moment—trailing from your flushed face to the curve of your legs draped over his arm. He’s trying to play it cool, but the way his jaw clenches and his ears turn a faint shade of pink gives him away.  

“Your legs are cold,” he murmurs after a beat, his voice quieter now.  

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the hint of concern in his tone.  

His lips twitch a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I told you this stupid outfit wasn’t practical.”  

“Well, I didn’t exactly pick it,” you grumble, squirming slightly in his hold.  

“Stop moving,” he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. His hands shift slightly, one sliding along your back and the other brushing against your thigh as he adjusts his grip. The casual intimacy of it makes your face burn hotter.  

“Sol...” you warn, your voice shaky.  

But instead of answering, he leans back slightly, settling you more comfortably in his lap. The movement makes your head spin—partly from the sudden shift, but mostly because of how close he is now. You’re practically curled up against his chest, his arm still supporting your legs while his other hand rests firmly against your back.  

And then he looks at you again. Really looks at you. His orange-red eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing, grumbly version of Sol you’re used to is nowhere to be found. There’s something different in his expression now—something serious, almost vulnerable, and it steals the breath from your lungs.  

“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee. His hands slide from your hips to your legs. “These heels could’ve hurt me,” His thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles along the tops of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine.

Your mouth opens to respond—maybe to defend yourself, maybe to yell at him, you’re not sure—but then his hands shift lower, skimming over the curve of your calves. He grabs one of your feet, his fingers curling around your ankle as he starts tugging off your shoe.  

“Sol, I can do that myself—”  

“No,” he snaps, but there’s no malice in his tone. His cheeks are pink, his expression strained like he’s trying to keep it together. “Please, just let me.”  

You’re too stunned to argue. He’s slow about it, almost hesitant, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin as he removes one shoe, then the other. When he’s done, he lets his hands linger for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your bare ankles.  

His eyes flicker back up to yours, and there’s something desperate in his expression now like he’s holding himself back from doing something stupid. “Why do you always have to make this so hard?” he mutters, half to himself.  

“I’m making 'it' hard?” you blurt, your voice shaky.  

“You showed up like this,” he counters, his gaze sweeping over you again. “Looking like... this.”  

He leans closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand slides up, tracing a line from your ankle to your knee, then up your thigh, stopping just shy of where the hem of the bunny suit begins. His knee presses a little closer, and you suck in a sharp breath.  

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.  

Your brain short-circuits. You don’t even know how to respond to that, especially not when his eyes are locked on yours like he’s waiting for an answer.  

“Sol,” you finally manage, your voice barely audible. “You’re being weird.”  

“I know,” he mutters, his lips twitching into a crooked, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’m always weird. But you make it worse.”  

And with that, he dips his head lower, his breath ghosting over your lips like he’s daring you to stop him.  

Please don’t make him stop…

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo hadn’t thought much about your text at first.

You were running late—what else was new? He was used to it by now. You’d told him to let himself in with the key under the mat since you were still getting ready, and, well, that’s what he did.

Your apartment was as familiar to him as ever: the faint smell of your scented candles. Geo plopped onto the couch, scrolling through his phone to kill time. After about ten minutes of waiting, he sighed loudly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“Why do I let you do this to me?” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. He made his way down the hall, the hardwood floor creaking faintly under his boots.

The door to your bedroom was cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway. He tapped lightly on the frame with his knuckles. “Hey, we’re gonna be late, y’know. What’s taking you so—”

He pushed the door open mid-sentence, stepping inside. And then he stopped.

His brain short-circuited.

There you were, standing in front of your full-length mirror, fiddling with a pair of floppy bunny ears.

A very, very skimpy bunny suit clung to you like a second skin, all shiny black fabric and sheer tights that showed just enough to drive someone insane. The plunging neckline, the dangerously high cut of the bodysuit, the tiny bowtie collar around your neck—it was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet somehow…

You looked stunning.

Geo froze in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His trademark sarcasm, his quick wit, his effortless aloof expression? Gone. 

His brain? Absolutely empty. 

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out.

You noticed him then, spinning around so fast that your bunny ears flopped dramatically to one side. “Geo!” you shrieked, your voice an octave higher than usual. “What the hell are you doing? I thought you were on the couch.”

“What am I doing?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes flicked over you, up and down, up and down, like he couldn’t stop himself. He quickly snapped his gaze upward, focusing on the very uninteresting ceiling. “What the hell are you wearing?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for a charity event,” you muttered defensively. “Crowe asked me to help raise donations.”

Geo’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to keep his gaze anywhere but directly on you. His eyes betrayed him, though, darting back to your legs, your waist, your— “What kind of charity involves… that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at your outfit like it was some kind of alien artifact.

You groaned, turning back to the mirror to adjust the bunny ears again. “It’s a themed event, okay? College students are more likely to donate if there’s… I don’t know, incentive?”

“Incentive…?” Geo repeated, “And Crowe ask you wear that? Crowe?” His tone was somewhere between disbelief and outrage. “What is wrong with him? Is he insane?”

“It’s not that bad,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered because, yeah, it was kind of bad. “It’s for a good cause!”

Geo crossed his arms, his lips pulling into a tight line. “No. Nope. Not happening. You’re not walking out of here dressed like that. I don’t care if it’s for world peace.”

You threw your hands up. “What are you, my dad? Relax, Geo. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He frowns, irritated, his eyes accidentally drifting downward before snapping back up to your face. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “You look like—you—ugh, never mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I look like what?”

“Forget it.” he sighed, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Just… just go change or something."

“I can’t!” you said, exasperated. “This is the whole point of the event!”

Geo groaned, dragging a hand down his face in pure exasperation. His usual sharp wit was dulled by whatever internal battle he was clearly losing. “Why do I have to be the one to see this? Literally anyone else would’ve been better. Anyone.”

You crossed your arms, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re the only one with a car who wasn’t busy,” you shot back, matter-of-fact as ever.

Geo huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You should’ve just taken the bus, then!”

“And have creepy men ogling me the whole ride? Absolutely not,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “You’re a much better option. Like it or not.”

“Well,” he muttered, clearly flustered as his hand shot to the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but at you, “I’m regretting it now.”

You sighed, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with the bunny ears again, your patience wearing thin. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, just wait outside. I’ll be done in a sec—I just need to put on my shoes.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually listen. But then Geo took a step closer, his posture shifting. The embarrassment still lingered in his tense shoulders and flushed face, but there was something else now—something almost… resolute.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, turning you around so fast you nearly stumbled.

“Geo?” you asked, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze.

He didn’t answer. Instead, without missing a beat, he pushed you backward with a firm but careful hand, and your back hit the edge of your bed. You let out a startled gasp, barely managing to catch yourself as you propped up on your elbows.

“Hey! What the hell—”

You froze as Geo knelt in front of you, his hand gripping your ankle firmly but gently. His other hand reached out for your heels, which had been discarded nearby, and he snatched them up with a quick, fluid motion.

“You need to hurry up,” he grumbled, his voice low and laced with irritation as he slid the first heel onto your foot. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your sheer tights as he adjusted the strap. His face, however, was a different story—flushed red and rigid, like he was barely holding himself together. “So just—shut up and let me handle it.”

You blinked, your mouth opening to protest but no words coming out. Geo hadn’t spared you a glance, too focused on fastening the strap with a level of concentration that was almost comical.

“You’re—” you finally managed, but your voice wavered as his hands moved to your other foot.

“And you’re taking forever,” he shot back, not missing a beat. His grip on your ankle tightened slightly as he secured the second heel, his eyes resolutely fixed downward.

Is he blushing?

Your eyes narrowed, “You seem red there,” you teased, leaning back on your hands and watching him with a growing smirk. “What happened to all your sarcastic remarks, Mr. Smartass?”

“Shut up,” he muttered through clenched teeth, still not looking at you as he finished adjusting the second strap.

His fingers brushed against your ankle again, lingering just a second too long, and you swore you saw his ears turn even redder. Deciding to test your luck, you slowly crossed one leg over the other, making the movement deliberately graceful.

Geo’s aquamarine eyes flicked up instinctively at the shift in movement, and when he realized what he’d done, he snapped his gaze away so fast it was almost whiplash-inducing.

“Stop doing that,” he muttered, his voice lower now.

“Doing what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you tilted your head and batted your lashes at him.

“You know what,” Geo shot back, his jaw tightening as he focused way too hard on the buckle of your heel, his fingers fumbling slightly.

“Aw, is Geo embarrassed?” you teased, leaning forward just enough to invade his space, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think you’d get so flustered over a little outfit.”

His hands froze mid-motion, and for a moment, you thought you’d broken him. Slowly, his gaze lifted, locking with yours. Big mistake. His aquamarine eyes, usually narrowed, were now clouded with something unreadable. He didn’t look away, though—he couldn’t seem to. Whatever sarcastic retort he had locked and loaded vanished the second your teasing grin softened into something more curious.

“You don’t get it,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, his tone a complete shift from his usual snark.

The intensity in his voice caught you off guard, and your smirk faltered. “Don’t get what?” you asked, your playful tone slipping into something more hesitant.

Geo’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as if he were trying to hold something back. He stood abruptly, the sudden motion making you flinch slightly. His eyes immediately flickered with regret at your reaction, and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

“Shit,” Geo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. His back was turned to you, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed his frustration. He exhaled sharply, shoulders rising and falling as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.  

“Geo…” you started softly, the sharp edge in your tone from earlier now replaced with concern.  

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice strained and hoarse, like the words were being dragged out of him. “We’re not going to the charity event. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”  

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?” you exclaimed, still perched on the edge of the bed. “You can’t just decide that for me!”  

He turned to face you, amber eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place. “Watch me.”  

Before you could react, Geo stalked toward your desk, snatched a hoodie draped over the chair, and swung it around your shoulders with surprising precision. His hands lingered just long enough to tug it snugly over your frame, the fabric swallowing the delicate silhouette of your bunny suit.  

“You’re not going anywhere in that,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped back slightly, his gaze flicking over you as though ensuring his makeshift cover-up was secure. “If Crowe wants donations that badly, he can wear the damn bunny suit.”  

Your jaw dropped, words caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “Geo, you’re being absolutely insane!”  

“Yeah, probably,” he admitted, flashing a grin that was more sharp edges than warmth. “But at least I’m not letting you walk into a room full of idiots who won’t be able to keep their eyes—or their thoughts—off you.”  

Heat crept up your cheeks at his bluntness, and you folded your arms tightly across your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, and the tension between you grew like a palpable thing.  

“You’re seriously overreacting,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual bite.  

“Am I?” Geo shot back, stepping closer. His towering frame cast a shadow over you as his gaze locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Do you even realize how—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching as if swallowing the words was the only way to keep them from spilling out.  

“Realize what?” you pressed, your own voice barely above a whisper now, caught somewhere between defiance and curiosity.  

Geo’s hand shot up to rake through his hair again, the other curling into a fist at his side. His eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, before he let out a low, frustrated growl. In one swift movement, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you gently but firmly down onto the bed.  

“Geo, what the hell—”  

Your protest was cut short as he followed, his weight settling over you in a way that was far from aggressive but left no room for escape. His arms slipped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his head dropped to your chest.  

The world seemed to stop as you felt the warmth of his breath against your collarbone. He didn’t say a word, his face buried against you, his grip almost desperate.  

You froze, your hands hovering uncertainly in the air. “Geo?” you murmured, your voice soft and unsure.  

“Just… shut up for a second,” he muttered, his voice muffled against you. His tone was softer now, tinged with vulnerability that made your chest ache. “Let me have this.”  

Your hands hesitated before they slowly lowered, one settling against his back, the other threading cautiously through his hair. His body tensed at first but then melted into yours, his hold tightening as if he were afraid you’d disappear.  

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice raw and unguarded. “And not in the way I’m used to handling.”  

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of his words—and his closeness—stealing the air from the room. Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as you let the moment stretch, the sound of his breathing steadying against you.  

“Geo,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, “You’re not making any sense. We’re going to be late for the event,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone soft but firm.

“Good,” he muttered into your chest without lifting his head.

“Good?” you echoed, your brows furrowing. “Crowe’s going to kill us if we don’t show up. And you promised to drive me, remember?”

“I don’t care about Crowe or the stupid event right now,” he grumbled, his voice low and slightly muffled. “It’s not important.”

“Not important?” You leaned your head back against the bed in disbelief. “You’re acting like the world’s ending because of a bunny suit, Geo. What’s really going on?”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, a mix of irritation and something deeper. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I am right now.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in and leaving you momentarily speechless. “Geo…” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips brushed the curve of your neck. You tensed under his touch, your breath hitching as his teeth gently grazed your skin.

“Just give me five minutes,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed softly against the spot he’d just bitten, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Five minutes, and then I’ll get up, and we can go. Deal?”

You blinked, trying to process what just happened, your body feeling like it was on fire where his lips had been. “Geo, that’s not—”

“Five minutes,” he repeated, cutting you off. His tone was quieter this time, almost pleading as his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a vulnerability he rarely let you see. “Please.”

Wow. Five minutes it is then.

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[coquettemouse]

The loud ring of the school bell echoed through the hallway, and Leo instinctively covered his ears, wincing at the sound. He was used to it by now, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the new kid—Jason—doing the exact same thing, though his expression was different. He looked genuinely startled, his face tightening as if the noise had caught him completely off guard.

Leo watched him for a moment, curious. Guess I’m not the only one who hates that thing, he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Piper was busy packing up her books and notebooks, neatly sliding them into her bag like the organized machine she was. She glanced over at Leo. “Earth to Leo? Our next class.”

Leo gave her a half-smile, still distracted. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

The two of them walked to their english class together, joining the crowd of kids heading in the same direction. When they entered the room, the teacher—Mr. Hermes—was already at the front, adjusting a stack of papers. He was this skinny guy with super messy hair and a beard that looked like he just forgot to shave. He always kinda looked like he just rolled out of bed, but he had this cool vibe about him, the kind that made even boring stuff seem kinda fun.

Leo liked Mr. Hermes. He always had a joke or a story up his sleeve, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules a little bit if it meant making class more fun.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Hermes called out, clapping his hands. “We’ve got something a little different today. I’m giving you an activity to work on in groups of three.”

The class perked up slightly at that. Group activities were always better than sitting through a lecture.

Mr. Hermes continued, waving a paper in the air. “Here’s how it’s gonna work. I’ll hand out the instructions, and you’ll work with your group to come up with some creative answers. You’ll have until the end of class, so don’t waste time deciding on your trios.” He paused, grinning. “And yes, you can pick your own groups.”

The room erupted into chatter as everyone started looking around, deciding who they wanted to team up with.

Piper tilted her head, clearly already thinking about their group. “So, who should we—”

“I wanna team up with the new kid!” Leo blurted out, cutting Piper off. He pointed right at the blonde boy sitting in the back, all quiet like he was trying not to be noticed. Leo didn’t really know why, but something about him just made Leo want to drag him into their group. Maybe it was because he looked so... out of place. Or maybe Leo just thought it’d be fun to see what his deal was.

Piper blinked at him. “Him? Why?”

Leo shrugged, grinning. “I dunno, I just wanna talk to him. He looks kinda cool. And, y’know,” he added with a cheeky glint in his eye, “he probably needs help making friends or something.”

Piper rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “Fine. But don’t scare him off, okay?”

Leo ignored her and turned to Jason, waving him over. “Hey, Jake! Wanna join our group?” he called out, loud enough for half the class to hear.

Jason’s head shot up, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at Leo, then Piper, then back at Leo again. For a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if Leo was serious. But then, with a small, uncertain nod, he grabbed his notebook and slowly made his way over to their table.

Leo beamed. “Cool! You’re with us now. I’m Leo, by the way. And this is Piper. Don’t worry, we’re pretty awesome.”

Jason gave a small smile, his voice quiet but polite. “Thanks. I’m Jason, actually.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leo said, leaning back in his chair. “Mrs. Roberts introduced you, remember?”

Jason shifted awkwardly, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Um, yes,” he said softly. “You called me Jake.”

Leo blinked, then let out a chuckle. “Did I? Oops, my bad. Jason, Jake, same thing, right?”

Piper rolled her eyes, giving Leo a playful nudge. “No, it’s not the same thing, genius. Maybe try listening for once.”

Leo shrugged and Piper let out a sigh. “Well, welcome to the group, Jason. Let’s see what Mr. Hermes has in store for us.”

Leo leaned forward, his excitement bubbling over. “Don’t worry, dude. We’ve got this. With me on your team, there’s no way we can lose.”

[notsofrozt]

Bingliushen fic recs in no particular order (buckle up this is going to be long):

Shen Qingqiu Gets Mad: The Fic by poison_dart_frog (T)

After the destruction of their third house, Shen Qingqiu leaves Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge alone until they get their shit together. Without Shen Qingqiu there, Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge are forced to spend time together, rebuild a house, and (hopefully) win back their husband. Easier said than done when it’s an emotionally constipated war god and crybaby demon lord that is having to get along. (It's more towards the BingLiu side, but a 10/10 regardless)

⚔️

something you don't give much attention by brosnyaa (E)

The one where Liu Qingge actually wins a fight and Luo Binghe ends up getting a little hot for Shishu.

⚔️

Universal Simps by chaoticgoodlawyer (M)

Luo Binghe had been trying to tell his husband something for some time, but Shen Qingqiu just wasn't getting it. The System helps the Protagonist out by forcing Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe, and Liu Qingge into his husband's original world. Hijinks ensue. Moshang are just along for the ride. (In which Shen Qingqiu stops being so oblivious, and Bingqiu gain a boyfriend.)

⚔️

something 'bout tonight feels meant to be by lavenderandrue (T)

one time at a party i kissed someone's girlfriendboyfriend and to make sure he wasn't mad about it i just kissed him too... i blacked out and woke up to a text in a groupchat with both of them that said "did u make it home safe baby? <3"

⚔️

I Dream You’re Still Breathing (don’t wake me up) by PeerlessCourgette (marimorimo), scholomancefan (E)

When he’d awoken in the Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom body, Shen Qingqiu had intended to get as far away as possible from everyone in his past; especially Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge. Instead he found himself a helpless bystander to the fight between them. But when Liu Qingge is hurt–seriously hurt–Shen Qingqiu knows leaving is no longer an option.

⚔️

to light the hearth by lemonlight (E)

Liu Qingge said something he's always intended to keep private. Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu show him - thoroughly - that his feelings are not as unreciprocated as he thinks.

⚔️

Putting the 'Hit' in 'Hit On' by Prudabaga (E)

In which Luo Binghe unknowingly engages in demonic flirtation with Liu Qingge via punches, and everyone knows about it and is cool with it. Luo Binghe just wishes someone had told him.

⚔️

Today, and every day after by summerdays_winternights (E)

“Junshang, the human that has been courting you for the past seven years with the duels? And by bringing Consort Shen his conquests? He is the one that brought the deer to you, correct?” Luo Binghe nods, still in a daze. “Yes, that’s Liu Shishu.” “Mn,” Mobei-jun nods. “Will you be accepting his courting soon? Qinghua says there are many demons who wish to court him if you two do not accept.” What the fuck? What the fuck? Like hell he’s going to let some trash court Liu Qingge. Wait. Oh.

⚔️

Ship Wars: A New Hope (RPF Edition) by PeerlessCourgette (marimorimo), scholomancefan (E)

A fresh infusion of smut to rival Regret of Chunshan has flooded the jianghu—and for once, it’s not Shen Qingqiu x Luo Binghe! Shen Qingqiu breathes a sigh of relief. But his reprieve is short-lived. What the fuck is “Bingliushen”?!

⚔️

Two PIDW Cosplayers Broke Into My Apartment And Saved My Life but They Hate Each Other and Keep Breaking My Things by Kamaete-(E)

Shen Yuan wakes up, in his apartment, to two impossibly beautiful cosplayers (their special effects look too good to be cosplayers though) fighting (over him? He hopes not. They keep calling him Shen Qingqiu and he's not sure he likes the comparison).

⚔️

A Flaw in the System by CheckersXIV (M)

Shen Yuan has been working in the 99th Precinct for a grand total of three months. He’s pretty certain he deserves an award for being able to adjust to the absolute bullshit that happens here. (A Brooklyn 99 AU, pretty cool)

⚔️

best of both worlds by ChezPillow (PillowLord) (M)

Everyone knows that the singer Zheng Yang uses an alias. Only a select few knows the man behind the music idol. Luo Binghe prefers it that way.

⚔️

In the Pit by ShanBlackRX (E)

When Shen Yuan perked his head up to the raw punk song flooding Liu Qingge’s living room, taking interest in the insane bass line that was playing then, Liu Qingge didn’t expect him to slowly but surely obsess over this band within the subsequent weeks, asking to borrow his albums so he could tear apart their musical skills and start to actively engage in conversations about them with his friend.

Requested by @axxa-the-allikatt, @anonimgato1507, @thischickiswack

[razorblade180]

Your Color

Ruby:Yang, can I be honest with you?

Yang:Can you? I assumed you always were, then you had a tea party.

Ruby:…

Yang:What’s wrong buttercup?

Ruby:I think I wanna dye my hair.

Yang:Oh, okay. Why’d you make it sound so serious?

Ruby:Because I’d look less like mom.

Yang:You’ll still have her heart.

Ruby:That’s the thing. I..don’t think I do, or want to. I love mom, but lately it’s been hard to look in the mirror. I chose to keep being me after we fell. Yet…lately I’ve felt like I’ve really been chasing her. It’s hard to explain.

Yang:Ruby, did you forget who you’re talking to? Take it from someone who’s literally chased their mom and made certain choices because of it, I get it. Do you…regret being a Huntress?

Ruby:No. I’ve wanted this since before I could walk. Maybe after when mom d- when she left, a part of me clung to it. At this point I remember her dreams more than her face.

Yang:Ruby-

Ruby:It’s the truth. Hehe…I don’t think I would want to change anything about mom, but I do wish if all of this had to happen, then a few more years would’ve been nice. I…I only remember so much. You, dad, and Qrow, you see her in me. I envy that a little.

Yang:Sorry. I didn’t know that’s how you felt.

Ruby:It’s okay. I didn’t know that’s how I felt either. It’s been nice learning about mom, but I think it’s time for some kind of distance. After all, I’ll always have her eyes.

Yang:Not just that. Finding yourself, it’ll make you happier than ever. That joy, the smile it will bring, it’ll shine just as bright as hers. Dad told me something once. The more I’m myself, the more I’m the best parts of my mom. I used to think he just meant we were similar. Now I’m sure what he meant was Raven was always true herself, so the best thing I could do is be true to myself.

Ruby:I like that. Sounds like a dad lesson. To be myself. Hehe, I never thought that would sound so hard. I’ll do it though. Not to chase or embody anything. But because I owe it to myself. To Ruby Rose.

Yang:She’s a pretty cool girl, and a great sister. *ruffles hair* So, what color?

Ruby:Good question. I’ll get back to you on that.

Yang:Well whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be good on you.

[hihigherdi]

She’s home.

I’ve thought about this painting every single day since I saw it. I went back today in pursuit of another errand but I had it on my heart so stopped by to see if it was still in the gallery. It was. I asked the owner what the price was, he recognized me and said “you had a strong connection to this piece, I could see it.”

My eyes filled up and I choked out, I am in the final stages of breast cancer treatment and I see myself in her. That’s probably narcissistic but I cry each time I look at it, I feel it in my heart somehow. That I’m alive and I’m moving and it’s with intention now. I’ve thought about her everyday. So I’m going to buy it, I think that’s what art is supposed to do.

He got emotional and whispered he’d lost his sister to breast cancer 10 years ago. Stage 4. We hugged goodbye for a long time.

Sometimes you just know it’s the time to talk about it.

I put it in my room, it will be the first thing I see when I wake up. It was pretty reasonable for art (I guess?) and the artist just got a piece in the Triton Museum which is so cool, that’s a local museum here in Santa Clara.

The owner took my info and asked if he could share the story with her and I said yes yes yes. Please do. Thank her for me.

I put it where the painting of Mary and Jesus was, a picture that hung in my mom’s chapel. I realized that I can love, honor, respect my mom’s faith for how it healed her but it’s ok I don’t take it in myself. I don’t think my mom in her heart of hearts would have wanted that anyway.

When I was making a lot of money, I rarely spent it. I’m barely making ends meet now and I’m spending a lot, particularly on my home. It’s always been important but now I’m making choices out of what I love, what I want most instead of that desperate hunger to create a home. It’s different, I’m not sure what’s changed. I found a chair that feels like you’re sitting in a cloud. And it’s a recliner. I’m getting it.

I also spontaneously said yes to meeting some of my best friends in Cabo San Lucas. I leave on Saturday. I called one of them randomly a couple of days ago and she’d just landed there - there are so many grey whales and humpbacks in that specific location right now having their calves. S called me later from the beach and said “ I just saw a whale spout on my walk. We have two extra rooms in the Airbnb, so free place to stay, can you come?”

I said no. And then I said yes and burst into tears. It’s for three nights which is perfect. A trip to the mall knocked me out today, this anemia is no joke so a big trip freaks me out but no one expects me to perform or be on. It’s just to love and be loved by lovely people. I feel ok leaving the cats for that length of time though leaving them is always the worst part.

Your girl is definitely in her healing era, maybe in more ways than one.

[caitified]

I'm so in love with your writing 😭 could you please do KM x reader on honeymoon with kate being so clingy and touchy?

HONEYMOON

KATE MARTIN X READER

comments: thank you, love you!

warnings: a little suggestive

you met kate martin at iowa. you were both fresh into college, navigating the newness of it all—the campus, the basketball team, the expectations. you weren’t even on the same path at first. she was the confident, easy-going upperclassman with this cool, natural charisma that made her impossible to ignore, and you were the quiet, focused rookie, determined to prove yourself.

she was impossible to miss, though. the way her long blonde hair was always pulled into that perfect messy ponytail, like she didn’t even have to try. her blue eyes that always seemed to catch you staring across the court, sparkling like she knew something you didn’t. you were drawn to her—how could you not be? she carried herself with this effortless confidence, but it wasn’t cocky. she made everyone feel like they mattered, especially you.

things started slow. late-night talks in her car after practice. her teasing you during drills, flashing you that lopsided grin that made your heart race. subtle touches on the court—her hand brushing yours, her arm slung casually around your shoulders in the locker room, like it was the most natural thing in the world. by the time your second season rolled around, you were hers, and she was yours.

fast forward a few years, and now she’s your wife. your wife. it still feels surreal, the way those words roll off your tongue.

the wedding was small, intimate, just the way you wanted it. her vows had you in tears, and you could barely get through your own because her big hands were holding yours so tightly, grounding you and making you feel safe in a way only she could. and now you’re here, on your honeymoon, tucked away in a villa overlooking the ocean in greece, and kate hasn’t let go of you since the plane landed.

she’s always been touchy, always had to have her hands on you in some way—an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your thigh, her fingers brushing the back of your neck—but now it’s like she can’t bear to have even a single inch of space between you.

you’re lying on the lounger by the pool, a book resting in your lap, the sun casting golden light across your skin. kate’s sprawled across you, her head tucked into the crook of your neck, her long legs tangled with yours. her fingers trace lazy patterns over your stomach, occasionally dipping under the edge of your swimsuit just to feel your skin. her hands are big and warm, and they make you feel so small in the best way.

“kate,” you murmur, though your voice is barely more than a whisper. “you’re heavy.”

“you love it,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

she’s right. you do.

“what happened to giving me space?” you tease, though your free hand slides up to tangle in her hair, nails gently scratching her scalp.

“space?” she pulls back just enough to look at you, her blue eyes soft and full of mischief. “baby, we just got married. you’re stuck with me forever. i don’t think ‘space’ is in the contract.”

her grin is infectious, and you find yourself laughing, the kind of laugh that feels deep and warm, like the sun on your skin. she presses a quick kiss to your lips, and then another, because one is never enough for her.

“besides,” she adds, settling back into her spot against you, “you’re way too pretty to leave alone. i have to protect you.”

“protect me from what?”

“anyone who looks at you for too long,” she says, her voice light but tinged with a possessiveness that makes your stomach flip.

you roll your eyes, but your heart betrays you, swelling at how openly she loves you. it’s always been like this with kate—no games, no second-guessing. just her, all in, unapologetic in the way she holds you close and makes you feel wanted.

later, when the sun dips below the horizon and the villa is bathed in soft candlelight, you’re curled up on the couch with her, a glass of wine in one hand and her other hand—big and warm—wrapped around yours. she’s pressed so close to you it’s like she’s trying to fuse herself to your side, and you don’t mind one bit.

“do you think people get tired of each other this fast?” you ask, half-joking.

she leans in, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “if they do, we’re not people.”

it’s such a kate thing to say, and you can’t help but turn your head to kiss her, slow and deliberate, letting her know without words that you feel the same way.

when you pull back, her blue eyes are soft, her usual playfulness replaced with something deeper. “i love you,” she whispers, her voice almost reverent.

“i love you too,” you reply, and it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever said.

she doesn’t say anything else after that, just pulls you closer, her touch warm and steady, her presence grounding. and in that moment, with her wrapped around you and the sound of the waves in the background, you think there’s no place in the world you’d rather be.

thanks for reading! requests open.

[raynestormss]

fellas is it gay to be standing in the doorway where you met each other while wearing each other’s jackets and gazing into each other’s eyes and then a song titled “Love” starts playing