#*chanting* bad touch bad touch bad touch bad touch

[kxtsukixoxo]

"Please let me touch you"

with my main latino king sero plsssss

if it's possible to include more spanish i would be on my KNEES (if not that's okay still luv u pookie 🫶)

authors note - i love this man with every fibre in my body, and i CANNOT pass on an opportunity to use spanish with our latino king <3 here’s the valentine’s day event, there’s still prompts available!! ⊹. warnings - nsfw content

sero huffed and puffed, annoyed at the fact his hands were tied together with his own belt,

the culprit? you.

“please cariño” sero groaned as his eyelashes fluttered, while your lips wrapped around his cock once more, milking every drop of cum. you shook your head, as you gathered the small drop of cum on your chin with your finger, lapping up your finger while you looked at sero

“didn’t hear you baby, what’d you say?” your hand wrapped around his cock as you stroked him slowly, he groaned, overstimulated and frustrated, it was the third time already.

he wanted to bury himself inside you, but you had other plans, sero threw his head back as he tried to loosen the belt around restraining him from moving his hands. you sat ontop of his stomach, as your head dipped down, eyes holding contact with his as your noses brushed,

“fuck, i wanna touch you so bad querida” he panted as your lips brushed his, “te necesito-” you groaned out of satisfaction,

“let me touch you baby, please”

his breath catching in his throat as he yanked the belt once again. peppering his neck with kisses, you slowly played with the buckle of his belt, sero grew impatient, his eyes filled with need. 

your hand slipped, unbuckling the belt, sero moved fast, before you could catch him again. he trapped you underneath his grip, blinded by need, he’d punish you later. right now, he needed you desperately. “gonna fuck you so good bebé” he muttered inbetween tiny licks along your collarbone, he finally got his hands on you and he was enjoying every bit of it.

his hands ran up and down your body, feeling every curve and dip, praising you with just his hands and tongue. the slick between your thighs began to pool on the bed, you were desperate for his touch. “please sero-“ he didn’t want to stall any longer, his knuckled brushed your inner thigh, as his fingers dipped past your folds, collecting your slickness

“i’ll punish you later, right now i need to get into you or i’ll fucking bust” he placed a kiss to your forehead as he lapped up his fingers like a hungry dog, he tossed one leg over his shoulder as he lined his cock with your entrance

“fuuuuuck” he breathed out as he slammed into you, noises bubbled up inside your throat, but you couldn’t let them out with how good he was stuffing you, using his hands as a cuff, he held yours over your head, while the other kneaded the flesh on the side of your hips,

“you’re doing so good for me baby” he let go of your hands, caressing your cheek as you tried to grab anything in site, to deal with the overstimulation, he caused on your clit with his other hand, while he pounded into you. “close—sero—“ your hands ran through his hair, tugging at the well tamed mullet while he grinned at you lazily, he loved it when you rough-handled him, he enjoyed it more than anything, sero’s thrusts became sloppier signalling his own release, “almost there pretty girl, cmon” he exhaled as his hands landed on the dip of your waist, holding you tight like you’d run away,

your hips bucked as you came all over his cock, seconds later so did sero, chanting out every cuss word in spanish he could think of, filling you up with every bit of him, he collapsed next to you as he squeezed your face with his hand, “atta girl, you did so good for me hm?”

sero chucked at your lack of response, what was he expecting? he fucked you dumb. he peppered you with kisses all over your face as you nuzzled into the nook of his neck while he held you tight 

“tu eres solo mía” 

[ahdriking]

Mansuang (2023) Apo Nattawin as Khem

[ratatatastic]

"Who's idea was it to put the cone on your head for the parade? Was that all you?" "Zach Eisenberg [Director, Executive Operations]—I think is his name—he takes care of us a lot at Amerant Bank Arena. I don't know his exact role with the team but he's just kind-of always around, and helps us out. He's friends with Brooks [Koepka.] I think he helps Brooks when he comes to the games. Anyways he found a pylon or I think I might have told him—I was pretty drunk at the time but I think I told him to go get a py—'if you could find a pylon, find one!' 'Cuz they sprung that speech on me, kind-of, last second, you know, five minutes before I was supposed to go up there. I'm like, 'What the fuck am I gonna say?' So I had him go grab the pylon and I grabbed it on the side of the stage right before I was gonna do my speech. And luckily all the clips are of that, you know, me telling him to go fuck himself... 'cuz the rest of my speech was terrible. There's really nothing to it! And I'm so happy that, you know, all the clips are only of that so!" "Yeah, we didn't know you said anything else! I thought that was the entire speech!" "That's all that matters!" "Exactly, exactly! I got away with it there!"

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

i love finding out they basically told ekky he was gonna have to do a whole speech 5 minutes before he was up while hes been drenched from rainwater and alcohol for like the past 6 hours absolutely pissed out of his mind like yeah no wonder his speech basically culminated to THANK YOU SOUTH FLORIDA AND ALSO GIVE IT UP FOR MY D PARTNER WOOOOO yeah that tracks

"But what golf tournament* were you at shortly after that? Somebody was dressed like a cone? Was that Lomberg who was dressed in like a costume? A cone costume?" "He came—Brooks came up to you—" "No, that was his buddy, that was his buddy. He was actually a Sunrise police officer. I actually saw him last night at the Zach Bryan concert! But yeah, no, that's one of his buddies. No, he was completely put to bed the day after. Right? Like he texted me—I personally didn't care, like, how many people at a hockey game are calling me a cone and telling Barkov he's got no hands like it's—you know, that's hockey. That's sports, right? So I didn't give a shit but—yeah, no, it was all in good fun. And then I got a way to get him back! It's perfect!" "But when you did see the first video of him in the box—and I remember watching that, I'm like, 'this motherfucker is rolling esctasy!' His eyes were fuckin' gigantic, he's like, 'Aaargghh.' Like, 'I can't take him, he's calling me a cone! I can't—' But that is kind-of odd that a professional athlete is gonna call you a cone and he's like a fan of yours...it's just—it was really bizarre!" "Goofy!" "Yeah..." "And his eyes were black which, you know..." "What does that mean?" "I just know what that means... and he was fucked up, you know..." "Yeah, yeah! He was definitely fucked up and he agreed that he was fucked up. And he apologised so I didn't care, obviously. And then when I was at that golf event I should've thrown a beer at his backswing or something—at the LIV event when he was actually competing? I should've fucked with him but I couldn't do it... I couldn't—I couldn't find the courage to throw something at him..." "So did he reach out to you like that night? And say, 'Hey, dude... I was just joking, you know...'" "'I took some pills and...'"

*2023 LIV Golf Team Championship (Miami) held from Oct. 20-22 in Doral

[and i suppose more context here lombo and koepka are friends and he even showed up to his cupday when he went golfing in parkland and not to mention that lombo facilitated koepka apologising to ekky so its why the whole cone costume came to be really]

theres a lot more context about this incident and the ensuing storm after it so for archival sakes here are articles about it (x)(x)(x)(x)(x) because its quite a saga but its water under the bridge and there's only so much tabloid-esque coverage thats been reignited after the ekky speech i can take about an athlete who's dumb enough to insult another guy while hes drunk off as his ass in a fucking public setting

but anyways i think its really funny that i said to myself wow thats an oddly petty thing to admit to you know the whole wanting to throw a beer at his backswing ekky... for such a good vibes sweet man who like the only thing youve particularly said about the cone novella is "we'll never be buddies" to which you quickly retracted and then went "holding ill will against somebody and pulling negativity in your body is never a good thing"

and then i remembered who he attended the liv event with and it all made sense

behind every aqua whos being a little mean there is a much worse much more evil looming presence who is encouraging them down this dark path (a gem but especially a june gem)

truly a tale as old as time

[vonlipvig]

can't think about killing myself today cause it's friday. love and light.

[cadykeus-clay]

there is truly nothing funnier to me than the all work no play ghost hunting episode

[pearlywritings]

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the sheets. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction. 

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them. 

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible? 

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you. 

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip. 

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight. 

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

[thecupidwitch]

Simple Ways to Practice Magick Everyday

Say a small prayer or do a short meditation before you get out of bed in the morning.

Write down dreams or visions you had.

Stir your first cup of coffee or tea counterclockwise to banish negativity and bad luck or clockwise to bring positive energy.

Draw daily tarot or oracle cards (you can also use a pendulum) for guidance.

Cleansing yourself and home using sound or smoke.

Ancestor or spirit offerings

Pick out your clothes, shoes, jewelry... ect with intention.

Write a sigil or petition paper and burn it.

Take a ritual shower. You can spice it up with candles, herbs, and crystals, or you can simply step under the water and imagine all the negativity and bad energy washing off you. You can also recite a chant.

Every time you look into the mirror, say an affirmation

Take a walk outside and ground yourself to Mother Earth.

Dance!! Dancing is an excellent way to rise the energy, and it helps with opening the sacral and solar plexus chakra and getting in touch with the inner child.

tip jar

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[bunny-jpeg]

grass stains

simon "ghost" riley

cw: smut/pwp, rugby au, friends-to-lovers, rugby player!simon, breeding kink, pregnancy, wife!reader, cowgirl position, size kink

this bunny runs on reblogs, tags & comments!

simon was a superstar. you had always known that, ever since you were both teens. you remembered him as the intimidating boy with shaggy blond hair who hated talking. but, that was fine. you'd talk for both of them!

now in your twenties, he was still broad and intimidating. now with two fake teeth due to rugby and a sleeve of tattoos. he was one of the best rugby players in england, if not the entire island. people knew simon "ghost" riley fairly well. when you went to games, you often heard the chanting of his name. regardless he was your husband and you loved him more than the flowers in your front garden loved the sun.

"you know mister riley." you said as you scrubbed at the front of his jersey with an old toothbrush. the suds from the cleaner got deeper into the fabric of the jersey, "i don't know how you get grass stains that are so tough! i'm pretty sure if i cleaned soap's or gaz's jerseys they wouldn't have so much trouble."

simon was at the stove nearby, checking on the boiling potatos for the cottage pie he was making the both of you for dinner. he looked over to you by the small dining table, "i'll talk to the team, love."

you raised your eyebrows at him, "and why exactly am i washing this? you have two hands."

he tilted his head towards the boiling potatoes on the stove. he replied, "someone's gotta make cottage pie."

you stuck your tongue out at him, but he pretended to catch it like a kiss then pressed it to his chest. you did have to admit, simon was a better cook than you and the cottage pie was amazing. so in exchange you'd battle the stains on his kit.

the jersey got cleaned eventually and was hung up in the kitchen to dry overnight. and after dinner and clean up (which simon did as a thank you for you working so hard on the kit). simon led you to the bedroom and you got out of the oversized t-shirt and the patterned sleeping shorts you wore.

you got into your husband's lap and he held you close to him as you kissed him gently. you hand touched the side of his face tenderly as you felt his erection against your back.

"my beautiful wife." he said softly against your lips before he went in for another kiss. he felt you then hold onto the front of the grey t-shirt he wore.

"my darling husband. i love you so much."

"not as much as i love you. i try to look from you in the stands even when i know you're home. you're my good luck charm, love. that's why i ask you wash my jersey. so i have a little piece of you while i play."

"you know i'm always cheering you on, simon." you kissed his nose. it had been broken so many times that it was angled weird. but, you loved it, just as you loved every part of him, "and if any other player tries to say anything bad about you, i'll kick their asses."

he chuckled, "like my bullies in secondary school. i remember when you hit that one guy so hard he basically begged me for forgiveness." he cupped the back of your head and looked into your eyes.

you poked his broad chest and said, "yeah, and i'll kick their asses again if i had to."

simon cupped your behind before he leaned in close once more and said, "well then, why don't i show my missuses some tlc for bein' so good to me." he got you onto the bed and helped you out of the rest of your clothes, until you naked for him.

you were both naked on the bed together, simon's strong arms around you as he laid there next to you. he took in the sight of every curve of your body. his beautiful wife.

he remembered when you dyed your hair in secondary school or when you went through your 'punk' phase right before uni. he remembered when you stole two beers from your parents' fridge and you two got a little drunk only to kiss for the first time.

he lucked out with a wife like you. the prettiest bird he had ever seen.

his lips found your neck as you two cuddled together naked. you moaned and held onto those wide shoulders. you went to almost every game he had ever played in. you even packed up your little life to be with him in liverpool.

soon he took you gently and got onto his back. placing you onto his waist. you smiled down at him and rubbed your sweet pussy up against his erect cock. you giggled, "someone wants it."

"love, if i could never have it again. i would die. you're the only one i want." he chuckled as he massaged the fat of your hips. he tensed up when you seated yourself onto his cock.

you let out a soft moan as you got yourself settled. you planted both hands on his board chest for leverage as you moved your hips up and down. he was just so much bigger than you, you remember him before the growth spurt. you were taller than him for a brief while before he shot up well past six feet.

and then came all the muscle, then he had very few bullies after that. but, you'd still give them a piece of your mind. to you, simon was still the scrawny blond with the uniform hat was a tad too big for him. not the mountain of a professional rugby player he was now.

"mmm, si." you said as you rolled your hips against him. you felt the pleasure course through you as you moved up and down on his cock.

you felt the warmth of intimacy in your gut as you moved up and down on his cock. he held you and watched your moved against him. your hands looked so small on his big chest. you were just so perfect for him. being able to take all of him perfectly.

he gave gentle thrusts to match yours, he could feel the heat climb his neck and into his cheeks. "i want you to have my babies, love." he said softly, "i wanna be on the field and see ya in the stands carrying my big baby." he groaned as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. eventually his hands found your breasts and he groped them as you moved together, "i want a whole house of 'em." he chuckled.

you held him by the face for a moment and looked into his eyes, those darling browns looked back at you, "how about we start with one first there, my love."

he than wrapped his strong arms around your middle and thrusted up into you. you two met each other's pace as he whined, "i just want you so badly, love. you'd be such a good mama to my kids."

you kissed him on the lips as you laid against him. chest to chest as you two moved together. you felt the exhilaration of pleasure in your gut.

he kept those arms around you as he bumped up into you, his lips wet your cheeks as he heavily panted against you. you felt so good against him. he groaned, "pretty wife. my beautiful pretty wife." he was rambling at that point.

you pulled him into a searing kiss, his lips were chapped against yours. you tasted like the sweet lipgloss you always wore, that made his cock twitch inside of you.

"my beautiful husband." you said when you broke the kiss, "with all those scars and tattoos, you're perfect for me. you've become a wonderful man."

his heart fluttered a little. he was so painfully in love with you.

you soon both climaxed within moments of one another, with you first followed by him. he held onto your soft hips tightly as he pushed his cock as far as it would go. he shuddered and gasped, while you let out a string of sweet little moans. you slowed down your pace as you felt the high of pleasure. you held onto your lover's chest and panted heavily before you got the strength to get off of him and laid down beside him. you felt him wipe the sweat off your forehead and give the skin a kiss.

"you're so beautiful." he said, "my missuses."

"of course, simon." you snuggled up closer to him. basking in his warmth, "because i established myself at your number one fan in tenth year, so.... of course no one else is going to take that."

"and who else will get my grass stains out." he chuckled as he kissed your nose.

"exactly!" you said as you looped your arm around his waist and remained close, "no one else is taking my title, dammit!" you said jokingly, you knew you were more than just his wife. he saw you grow up just as much as you saw him grow up. you were a pair for a lifetime.

-

at the beginning of the following season, you found yourself in the same spot scrubbing at the jersey to get all the stains out. occasionally you stopped scrubbing and held it up to inspect it.

you had your daughter in april, little rose riley. even at four months old, she had already shown an interest in rugby. simon even went as far as to make her a onesie with his number and name on it.

currently while you were washing his jersey, he was across the table from you, holding onto your daughter. the little girl was nice and asleep in her father's bulky arms. he could kill someone with them, but yet held his little girl so delicately.

"ya know mister riley." you said as you examined the jersey once more, "i think these stains have gotten harder to clean since last season. it's like they designed this jersey to piss me off."

simon chuckled, "i'll talk to the team next time. tell them to make my wife's life much easier."

you looked at him, "and why exactly am i washing it, again?" you raised your eyebrows at him.

he tilted his head down to your daughter, "someone's gotta hold rosie."

you made a face before you said, "you're lucky i love you. but, if i can't get these grass stains out i'm going to manager price's office tomorrow and talk to him."

"you mean yell?" simon quipped.

"don't make me dump this in the flower garden and have you wash it." you warned with a finger pointed in his direction.

simon shifted his hold on your daughter and said to rosie, "can you believe mama?" he made a face before he looked at you and smiled a bit, "i love you."

you put the jersey down on the table and reached over to touch his tattooed arm, "i love you too, mister grass stains." <3

[letoasai]

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

~~

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment. 

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams. 

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy. 

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.  

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle. 

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.” 

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan. 

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted. 

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.” 

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?” 

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work. 

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it. 

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?” 

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.” 

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?” 

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.” 

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for. 

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs. 

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face. 

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment. 

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.” 

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.” 

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?” 

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over. 

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-” 

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?” 

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke. 

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title. 

“I can handle that. Your deal?” 

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-” 

“Pass.” 

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly. 

“My soul then….” Raven muttered. 

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!” 

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.” 

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away. 

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.” 

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer. 

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?” 

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.” 

“Wha…” Flash muttered. 

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.” 

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.  

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.” 

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough. 

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked. 

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds. 

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction. 

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered. 

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity. 

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.” 

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly. 

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…” 

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.” 

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.” 

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?” 

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything. 

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced. 

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging. 

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.” 

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered. 

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes. 

“My food?” 

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.” 

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage. 

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?” 

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face. 

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green. 

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head. 

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.” 

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action. 

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water. 

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed. 

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating. 

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare. 

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale. 

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger. 

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing. 

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag. 

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small. 

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.” 

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form… 

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…” 

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.” 

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him. 

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.” 

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?” 

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.” 

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him. 

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?” 

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering. 

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin. 

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.” 

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression. 

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.” 

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.” 

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself. 

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either. 

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?” 

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.” 

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!” 

“No way.” 

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.” 

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame. 

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.” 

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

~~

Masterlist

[kimberly-spirits13]

After Hunt Showers

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader SFW

Synopsis: After Sam denies Dean the first shower after a hunt, you let Dean join you.

Warnings: showering together, some light language, not fully edited (I gotta get to class 😭)

The sound of rain hitting the windows of Baby would have lulled you to sleep on a regular day, however, after all the adrenaline from the hunt you just completed, sleep was nowhere in sight. Some rock song you didn’t quite recognize right now was playing in the background acting like white noise. All you could think about on this ride home was getting into a scalding hot shower and wasting the day’s torments away while you scrubbed all the grime and muck off yourself. You openly cherished the quiet time you got in the shower and the ability of a good shower to keep you sane.  Dean was humming along, drumming his fingers along to the drums on the steering wheel. You looked over to see what Sam was doing and caught Dean’s eyes in the rear view. When your eyes met for the brief encounter, he shot you a wink causing you to blush and roll your eyes in response. You could see the exhaustion in Dean’s eyes and a shade of purple shadowing under them. He looked like a zombie, cursed with the inability to sleep. 

                  “I want first shower tonight, Sammy.” Dean said, reaching over to turn the car off.

                  “What? No way!” Sam turned to face him, “You had first shower last time.” 

                  “Too bad Sammy. Eldest gets first shower” Dean looked at you with a grin, “Back me up on this Y/N.”

                  “I’m not touching that argument with a ten-foot pole.” You put your hands up and laughed, “That’s a two of you problem.” “You could just shower in my room before me.”

                  “No go, I know you’re exhausted.” Dean answered sternly looking back at you. His eyes softened looking at you and a small smile appeared. Dean put a hand on your knee before Sam started arguing again.

                  “I get first shower.” Sam asserted.

                  “Dude, that’s bullshit.” Dean turned back to face him, the look of brotherly annoyance returning across his face again.

                  “Fine. Rock, paper, scissors.” Sam threw his hand on with a fist on the other.

                  Reluctantly, Dean did the same. The two looked sternly at each other, not breaking eye contact. 

                  “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot” Sam chanted.

                  “Damn it!” Dean yelled and threw his head back in defeat, “Best out of three.”

                  “What- dude.” 

                  “Just do it Sammy.” He insisted.

                  The same thing happened again, and Dean accepted his fate. This wasn’t without complaining that Sam showered like a girl and took too much time. He decided that it would be quicker to wait for you to finish showering and then borderline drown himself when you got out. You and Dean walked into your motel room. Ever since you started dating, you slept in a separate room to give Sam some much needed privacy. Dropping your duffel from the car onto the floor next to the bed, you got out a change of clothes and walked into the bathroom to start the shower. It was a moment later when you walked out and saw Dean sitting in a wobbly desk chair, staring up at the ceiling, willing himself to shower when you were done. You felt bad seeing him this way.

                  “Yell at me when you’re done, will ya.” Dean said, closing his eyes and leaning back into the chair.

                  “You look exhausted.” You said, walking over and running your fingers through his hair. 

                  It was still sweaty from running around all night; he needed a shower. Dean sighed deeply and leaned into your touch, nearly falling asleep. 

                  “But I still look beautiful right?” He popped an eye open to see your response and cracked a smile.

                  “I suppose so.” 

                  “Suppose so? That’s just hurtful Y/N/N.” Dean loudly clapped a hand over his chest in feigned offense.

                  You giggled, kissing him to make up for the comment, “Will you ever be able to forgive me?” 

                  “I suppose so.” 

                  You rolled your eyes and started running your fingers through his hair again, causing him to close his eyes again.

                  “Wanna come shower with me? It’ll be quicker.” You asked.

                  “I’d never say no to that, but isn’t the shower kind of your me time?” Dean answered.                 

                  “Yeah, but I’m fine. You don’t look like you’re staying awake much longer anyways.”

                  “So, what you’re saying is, you want Dean time, not me time?” 

                  “I’m saying that I’m pretty sure you’re not going to shower if you don’t now, and I don’t want your stink on me tonight when you have a death grip around me.” You poked the top of his head and smiled, “Now, are you coming or not?”

                  “I’d never miss the chance.”

                  You dropped your towel and stepped inside the shower, letting the steaming hot water hit your face and roll down. Dean followed quickly behind you, and you moved out of the way for him to soak his hair and wash his face once you had done so. Grabbing the shampoo, you lathered the soap into your hair and started rinsing out the blood, dirt, dust, and whatever else was in there. Dean moved out of your way so you could wash the shampoo out. 

                  “You’re beautiful.” He said, running his hands through your hair, now slick with conditioner.

                  “I’m flattered.” You replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pull you into a kiss. Dean yawned loudly while he helped rinse the conditioner out of your hair. You laughed and looked up at him, “Are you going to survive, pretty boy?” 

                  “No.” He yawned again.

                  “Let me rinse your hair.” You said pulling him close and letting his head fall on your shoulder.

                  Dean wrapped his arms around your waist and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your embrace and your nails massaging the shampoo into his hair. You felt his eye lashes flutter against your shoulder and his breath fanning out against your skin. He had a tight grip around you and didn’t seem to be letting go anytime soon. You moved to reach up and grab the handheld shower head and began rinsing the product out of hair, making sure to avoid getting any soap in his eyes. 

                  “You really should be more intentional about rest, Dean.” You said quietly.

                  “I’m fine.” He answered.

                  “No, you’re not. You’re exhausted.” “I’m not upset with you; I just want you to pay more attention to what you need.”

                  “You’re probably right.” Dean said.

                  “Did I hear that right?” You feigned a gasp.

                  Dean raised his head and shot you a look making you laugh.

                  “How about we sleep in tomorrow?” He asked.

                  “that’s a good start.” You agreed carding your fingers through his dripping hair.

                  After finishing showering, the two of you got dried off. You brushed your teeth next to Dean as he rested his head on your shoulder. When doing your skin routine, he glued himself to you. Again, you felt his breath fanning against your skin and eyelashes fluttering against your neck. His warmth kept you from the chills you typically got after a shower. 

                  “You almost done?” He asked in whisper.

                  “Almost.” You said with a small smile watching him. 

                  Silently, you streaked moisturizer across his forehead when his eyes were closed. He popped an eye open and rubbed the stripe on his face, making it disappear in his skin. 

                  “Very funny.” He breathed out. 

                  “It was.” You laughed and put it away.

                  “You done now?” 

                  “Yea.”

                  Dean pulled you into the bedroom and onto the bed before throwing the covers over the two of you. He let a groan when his head hit the pillow and grabbed for you to come closer to him. He was clingy at night, and tonight was no different. 

                  “Want me to set an alarm?” You asked in a hushed voice.

                  “Hell no.” He laughed, “Sammy will bang on the door when it’s time to go.” 

                  “You’re probably right.” 

                  “I know I’m right.” He poked your side, “Now go to sleep. I love you.” 

                  “Love you too.”

                  You curled into his side and smiled feeling his kiss on the top of your head before soft snores emitted from Dean. Tonight, you were glad to not have your usual “me time”. 

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2k+

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"  

Alternatively, 

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

Warnings: implied smut, explicit smut, emotional sex, very sad (don't underestimate the angst huhu), depressed yoongi, reader is pining so hard lord!, creampie, unplanned pregnancy, NSFW!!

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon

A/N: Lemme know if you want a part 2? (even though I already know the answer hehe).

Arrangement.

You would rather call it an arrangement - the thing that is going on between you and Yoongi. Anything you have been feeling for him, outside your usual practice, is your, solely your decision or more likely… fault. 

Hence, it’s a given. A given that you shouldn’t feel your heart dropping to your stomach, crashing on whatever is available inside your body and shattering into a thousand pieces, when you find Gyuri walking inside the room. 

Beside you, Yoongi tenses. His body goes rigid as the air inside the room thickens beyond repair. And all of a sudden you can’t breathe. 

Now you understand why Namjoon has been avoiding to reveal the name of the artist all along.

Lee Gyuri - One of the most successful solo artist as well as Min Yoongi’s one true love, who had left him broken so bad that you once found him on the street, unconscious, vomit all over his clothes - is now back in his life… in your life, which has been revolving around him. 

Where she left - You started. 

You picked Yoongi up, put him into pieces, not that you were able to heal the cracks but you at least conjoined it all together. 

And just like that - one night after a long heart to heart talk and a few beers, you found him seethed deep inside you. Yoongi chanted your name again and again as if it’s a mantra that will heal the cracks of his heart all while he rutted in you like a mad man. 

It started from there - the arrangement. 

At the end of long days and even longer nights, whenever both of you were too exhausted to go home, you spent the nights crammed together on Yoongi’s studio couch. 

Quiet whispers, curse words, wandering hands, secret body parts slick with arousal - everything had made your existence dwindle dangerously through his fingers. 

Yoongi always fell asleep right after but you stayed awake, tracing the slope of his nose, bow of his lips, map of his pale skin glinting in the dark. 

You had made a mistake. 

You fell in love.

Now as Gyuri slides inside the room with natural elegance, you hear Yoongi’s breathing getting quicker in pace. 

He is anxious. 

You place a hand on his knees, under the table. It’s a practiced habit that you adopted over time. Your fingertips help to calm him down. 

Everything is the same. 

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t relax under your touch. 

“Yoongi, can we talk for a moment?” Gyuri requests with a timid voice at the end of the meeting. Her eyes quickly lock with yours for a fraction of a second. 

You half expect for Yoongi to say no. You pray to the universe for his answer to come as negative even when you know –

“Yes. Sure.” 

That Yoongi never stopped loving her for a moment. Yoongi loved, loves and will love only one woman - and that’s not you. 

Even though you don’t feel your legs anymore, you stand up. You choose to take the stairs to exhaust your body so that your sadness can be masked. 

But even as you climb down floors after floors - your heart stays confined in that room locked with two lovers. 

“She said she wants to work it out this time. She has been missing me terribly... she said.” Yoongi doesn’t look away from the blaring computer screen. 

He probably doesn’t have the heart of looking into your eyes. 

Somewhere he, too, knows of the deepest secrets you have been hiding from him. 

“And? What did you say?” You chew on the inside of your mouth, again praying for him to answer something of your liking. 

“That I will think about it.” you knew he would say that. 

“What is there to think about, Yoongi? You still love her.” you force the words out of your mouth even when your throat closes up. 

Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes but you blink those away.

Yoongi finally looks at you, his own eyes glinting with moisture. 

“But what about you?” The question is rhetorical - metaphorical. 

“Me? I will go back to where I started from.” you lie, heart threatening to leap out of your chest. 

You would go back, but not where you started from, you would go back to the night when you picked Yoongi up from the street.

In simpler terms, you would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timelines. 

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, pretending not to hear anything at all. 

Even though you have to summon all of your willpower to do so - you stay still in your bed. 

Your tears though - keep falling, rolling down the apple of your cheeks and making a small puddle inside the curve of your ear. 

He keeps rambling on the door. 

Sometimes the knocks are steady, sometimes infused with anger but his voice stays low. You wouldn’t hear him calling your name if you weren’t attentive enough.

“Y/N! Please open the door.” Yoongi requests again. Through the wood of your door it sounds like a whisper, “Please. I- I want to see you once.” 

Every pore of your body woozes out the desire of letting him in, taking him inside your arms and never ever letting him go. 

But you are afraid. 

He has never once visited you by his own will. 

He only tagged along when you asked him to. 

So you are afraid. 

Afraid of what he might say. Afraid that he might say what you don’t want to hear. You already know everything - know enough - if he points it out now that he is going to leave you behind as the love of his life is back then you might as well break down, which you definitely don’t want to do. 

You have always appeared to be nonchalant before Yoongi about this arrangement, about his kisses, his marks, his simple ignorance - and you want it to stay that way. 

However, your resolve breaks when you hear a sob, muffled by the door. 

Is he crying? Why? Why is he crying at your door? 

So you get up, pad towards the door and swing it open. 

Yoongi’s head shoots up and you look at his face. 

He is a mess - a mess that you love. 

With dark hair all disheveled, face smeared with tears, lips chapped, Yoongi says, “I am here to end things.” 

This. You were afraid of this. 

Your insides churn and mold into a ball of nothingness. There are words sitting on the tip of your tongue but you choose to stay silent as always.

“Okay.” you reply, holding the door knob again ready to shut it on his beautiful face for once and for all. 

Yoongi forces his hand at the edge of the door, preventing you from closing it. 

He steps inside your apartment and within a few moments, you are being pushed to the door, closing it with the force of your back. 

Yoongi kisses you with everything he has left inside. You kiss him back. 

You don’t know what is happening but if this is for one last time, then you will accept it. 

Your hands wrap around his neck on their own accord. His chapped lips mold perfectly with your moisturized pair. 

They move in perfect sync, perfect rhythm - the rhythm of destruction. 

“Y/N” Yoongi whispers in between the kiss, “I am sorry.” 

You don’t pay his words any mind, rather you let your fingers get lost in his long dark hair. 

The kiss grows hungrier by every second you spend in each other’s hold. 

Yoongi starts directing you towards your bedroom and your small apartment space takes no time to be crossed. 

You soon feel the edge of your bed behind your knees. 

When you fall back - Yoongi falls with you. 

He looks into your eyes, his own eyes telling a thousand different stories all together. But tonight, you don’t try to read those. 

What’s the point when your own chapter is ending? When memories of you will be left to collect dust on the surface? 

What’s the point when he knows he is going back to the one he has always loved? 

His rough calloused hand comes in contact with your cheek. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers again as he reaches down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your right eye.

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your left eye.

“I’m sorry.” this time it’s the tip of your nose. 

“I’m sorry” and lastly it’s your lips. 

You have never seen Min Yoongi this emotional. 

After Gyuri left him, he became numb. You were never able to thaw the frozen parts of him. 

But tonight you see a completely different Yoongi. Is this Gyuri’s magic? Has her return made him a human again? 

Yoongi - who never touched you or kissed you more than it’s needed, is now apologizing while kissing every small part of your face? 

You take a sharp breath and reply, “it’s okay.” even though you don’t know what he is apologizing for. For not being able to reciprocate your feelings? For using you when you let him? For leaving you behind after tonight? 

He has already started placing kisses around your jaw, throat, collarbones. His hands fist the hem of your pajama top and he pulls it up revealing your naked chest. 

He doesn’t waste time diving down and taking one of your perked nipples inside his mouth. 

He sucks on it softly, sweetly - like a lover. Your tears start spilling from your eyes finally. But you completely lose it when you feel his own tears on the mound of your breast. You let him sob, as you sob quietly. 

It doesn’t take much time for your clothes and his clothes to join as a hip on the floor of your bedroom. 

Yoongi pumps himself, preparing for one last time to enter you. When he lines his cock on your entrance, he takes a quick glance at your face, as if asking for permission. 

Your tear stained face lights up in a small smile - it’s not fake. 

He enters you, takes up every corner of your walls, fills you with himself - both of your body and heart. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything anymore. He pushes himself inside you, pounds into you with an unusual pace. 

His face comes to rest on the crook of your neck. You embrace him to stay there, stay with you as long as it lasts. 

For the first time ever, Yoongi doesn’t fucks you - he makes love to you. 

The realization makes you shudder. 

Why now? Why now out of all the time? Why now when everything is ending? 

His breath starts getting labored, you feel yourself hanging close to the edge as well. 

And after a few more thrusts, you let go. He fills you up following your invitation. 

Both of you stay like that even after the deed is done - for a moment, an hour? You don’t know.  

You feel his disposal running down your inner thigh, when he finally slips out of you. 

You sneak a glance in his dark orbs for one last time. With a sore throat and an equally sore heart you whisper, “Be happy, Yoongi.” 

You see one last drop of tear slipping down his eyes when he dips down to cage your lips in his for one last time. 

It’s been a month since that night. 

It’s been a month since you last talked to Yoongi beside work. 

It’s been a month since you last saw Yoongi outside work. 

It’s been a month since you withdrew from Gyuri’s project.

It’s been more than a month since you had your last period. 

As you stand in your bathroom, with the tiny testing kit, those two red lines mock you. 

You thought that night was the last time? But this after effect - where will you go with this? Who will you confide in? 

It can’t be Min Yoongi - can it? 

You have let him slide through your fingers after all. 

Permanent Taglist:

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Requested Tags:

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[chuulyssa]

from people you know to people you don’t: singer!geto

singer!geto with his silver rings clinking against the mic stand when he adjusts it mid-performance. with his fingers running through his long, dark hair just to play on the bad boy persona the media has made of him. with his spot under the spotlight in front of thousands of people to see, who lets the crowd chant in some of the vocals in the chorus while he laughs, gripping the mic and pointing it to his fans, his black painted nails gleaming in the stage lights.

singer!geto who avoids interviews, questions, and who doesn’t sing love songs... but somehow his fans always end up finding love letters in his cryptic lyrics. and he always leaves them unconfirmed too, just smirking whenever paparazzi ask if they’re real or fiction. always answering “my fans are my muse” whenever pressed about his inspo.

singer!geto who leans into the bad boy image of him by the media because it’s much easier to do so than to explain the quiet loneliness and crippling depression he has felt since high school. because it’s much easier to be seen with a new woman every month than to confess to his entire world.

singer!geto who finds himself thinking of you late at night, about what it all could’ve been had he not been so selfish. he doesn’t understand if he’s selfish or just protecting you, but whatever it is, god does it hurt him, and a little voice in his mind hopes you’re hurting as much as he is right now, not being able to touch the skin of your face, or the softness of your lips in his big and lonely penthouse.

singer!geto whose eyes are always searching around in his concert, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces just so that maybe he could find yours, and maybe that would mean he was finally forgiven for pushing you away for so long, for always having his name in headlines linked to other women who aren’t you, for always being so scared of his own fans for you.

singer!geto who’s lyrics are always penned at three in the morning when his imaginations of you are the most vivid. and he swears to his pr team he’s not in love, never has been. yet they all question how the words pour out more sorrowfully than they would have if it had been all just stupid stories of broken couples.

singer!geto who doesn’t know where you are right now after he cut you off that night. so he travels around the world in the guise of his world tours, and doesn’t forget to explore the whole city in case he finds you in the marketplace buying your favourite fruits like he used to, or in the store with the snack you used to share with him on movie nights, or in the shopping mall where he swore he would buy you pretty dresses when he grows up and becomes rich.

singer!geto who wishes he knew how to grow up happy, who wishes he never dreamed his dream now that he has achieved it, who still wants what he wanted all those years ago so selfishly. even after all those “you have to sacrifice to achieve your goals” he says to the world, he wishes you would unblock him on your instagram just so you could match pfps again, so you could post him on your stories saying “my pookie” again, and even though he said he hated when you called him that, he would kill just to hear it spill from your lips one more time.

singer!geto who would always question why most successful people said money couldn’t buy everything, but has now realized that they were right. money couldn’t buy the way you laughed at his jokes, or the way you smiled at the new song he wrote, or the way you kissed his calloused fingers after a long practice session.

singer!geto who looks at small things at the shopping center and thinks you would like them, so he buys them even though you aren’t here to savour them anymore. he doesn’t remember how often he’s been questioned about this habit of buying clothes that won’t fit him, or things on his shelf that most certainly could never match his style. he could go on and on about the meaning those carried for him, but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

singer!geto who’s a coward, too afraid to take your name in front of the crowd of his thousand or so fangirls. what if you didn't like the spotlight? what if the girls got a bit too crazy? was it his fault for picking this career after all? was it his fault he fell in love with you more than he did for the strings of his guitar?

singer!geto who climbs up on stage for the final day of his tour, and it’s in the old city you used to live in. the old high school the two of you would go to was long demolished, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the love you held for him was destroyed along with that building as well. but among the low murmurs of the crowd, and the light falling on their faces, his eyes search for just one person almost habitually.

and he finds her.

you.

singer!geto who’s always been a bit shy when it came to singing in front of you. so when he sees you in the audience, his voice falters, and he forgets his purpose, and although he isn’t quite sure if his delusions have finally caught up to reality, or if his imagination has become progressive enough to project his feelings in the real world, his eyebrows furrow and his eyes squint as if to demand if you were real. if you were really there.

singer!geto who you smile timidly at, too small in the row of his million or so fans, too much of a speck in the sea to be noticed by anyone else. but he notices. he always notices. and you think this is the first time he has taken this long to tune his guitar on stage, and the others might have missed the faint pink on his cheeks. he was always shy.

“you’ll like this one,” he says as if you haven’t already liked the hundred songs he wrote before.

singer!geto who keeps forgetting the next lines of the song he wrote, and instead keeps adding lines that feel more raw, more real than anything anyone has ever heard before. and he has always refused to sing love songs, then why is this one about wanting to be braver to keep a relationship he quit, his fans wonder. but how would they know that singer!geto performs under the stage lights every night, but he has only ever felt seen when he was with you.

singer!geto who tumbles downstage immediately after the performance, hearing the chants of his name only distantly, just so he can scream at his managers to find the pretty lady in the purple dress he had bought for you so long ago and forgotten about after thinking you would’ve thrown it away just like he had done to you.

singer!geto who finds you walking up to him with a sheepish smile, and his breath catches in his throat. he doesn’t want to believe it is real — he wants to meet you alone, not in front of all the prying eyes of his team. his eyes are wide and his lips are quivering, and the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely is the hand you extended to greet him.

“hi,” you introduce your name, and his shaking hands meet your firm ones.

he stiffens and nods, surprised by the formality but not completely so. his fingers clutch tightly around the back of your hand that he knew so well, but now it just feels so unknown. he desperately tries to claw at you, or rather what he remembers of you, the one who has haunted the lyrics of his songs for so long.

his voice is trembling when he says your name, though it feels foreign on his tongue now. have you changed so much that you forgot him?

“i’m a fan, can i have your autograph?”

you could have the whole man if you requested, sweetheart.

but you don’t know it.

you don’t remember.

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

a/n: i have my math 3h paper tmr wtf am i doing here

[sinstear]

bestfriend!abby who begrudgingly slaps on a fake smile every time you mention a woman you’ve gone on a random date with. she was always happy for you, or shown you in some way that she is happy and proud of you for stepping out your comfort zone and meeting new people, but deep down, it makes her more depressed the longer she thinks about it. each time you look her in the eye, describe how your date went and how happy you were that someone shared the same interests and loves as you, abby hummed and nodded along. too busy and focused on that smile of yours, the way you laugh quietly at something you’ve said, not that she pays attention to your words, more your facial expressions. she hates all of it. she loves to see you happy, but not with someone who isn’t her. she’s been in love with you since you both bought a shared apartment across from campus. she’s tired of not being the one to take you on a date. to make you laugh. to make you smile.

bestfriend!abby that same night, who feels completely pathetic when she finds herself in her bedroom, door locked, far away from you and music slightly louder than usual, with her hand down her pyjama shorts and head tilted back with parted lips and soft breaths ripping through her throat. she hates that this is what you do to her and have no idea. reducing her to a mess, touching herself when you’ve gone to bed. hates to feel so pathetic that she can’t go to bed without sinking her fingers into her cunt each night, chanting your name under her breath and pleading for you to do something, anything that can give her the release she wants oh so badly.

your name falls from her lips like a shared secret, the slick sounds her cunt was making had her ears ringing loudly and face flushed, almost burning. blonde hair creating a halo beneath her head and she whimpers at the mere thought of her fingers being replaced by yours when she curls them deep inside her cunt. how yours would feel hitting that spot that has her toes curling, back arching and eyes rolling. it makes her feel hotter, sinking more into the mattress.

“fuck, need you so bad” she whimpered out, screwing her eyes shut tightly. “need your fingers so bad, baby” her voice quivers, tears slowly welling up in her baby blue eyes the faster she fucks her fingers into her sopping pussy. her lips part and her moans slowly increase in volume. not scared in the slightest if she gets caught. 

her pussy flutters, tightens around her fingers and abby’s thighs tremble as her breath comes out in slow stutters, eyebrows furrowing and back arching more off the mattress when that familiar feeling pools in her lower stomach. “need to cum” is all she can choke out, free hand vice like gripping the sheet below her. “please let me cum for you, baby, please”

your name continues to fall from her lips so effortlessly, like all she could ever speak was your name, nothing else. she’s got her fingers so deep, still wishing and praying they were yours, against her g-spot, and it feels suddenly too late to think or do anything else when all she can get out is another chant of pleads mixed with your name as she gushes all over her fingers with a string of whimpers.

it’s different this time, it doesn’t stop after a few moments. the warm hot liquid continues soaking her sheets as her body convulses. all she sees is blindly, white steaming pleasure and your beautiful face as she squirts for the first time, ever.

her chest rises up and down quickly, her pants are heavy as she flutters her eyes open minutes later. crimson blush coating her face more once the final realisation kicks in that the thought of you alone had made her a mess that she squirted and made a complete mess in her bed. you didn’t even do anything and she’s fucked. fucked out in so many ways. 

all abby craves is to be fucked out by you instead.

massive thank you to @andersonfilms and her juicy brain for helping me with this, and giving me the best and yummiest ideas. ily <3

[star2fishmeg]

Im actually so delusional today I need Lukey content so bad 💀 my boy is heavy on my mindddd

Thinkin abt still riding him after he finishes just cause he'd make the prettiest sounds ever and get all shakey and whiny. Can't get any work done I need him so bad 🫠

I'm always delusional about Luke, always on my mind and there's never a moment when he's not😭 Forever re-reading Luke content religiously. I don't usually post on Sundays but this had me drooling and I blame (tmi) ovulation.

"Fu..fuck, baby, fu-huck," Luke whines, lecherously and breathy with red cheeks. His forehead rests on your shoulder with arms draped loosely around your waist, sweat sticking your skins together until you're physically peeling apart from each other's bodies.

"Such pretty noises," you tease, arms hooked around his broad shoulders, nails following the scratches from not long before, "do I make you feel good, Lu? Does my pussy feel good?"

You could stop, take a breather and then go for another round but the shuddering whimpers falling from his throat just fuel this insatiable fire inside you, your hips continuing to roll at a moderate yet stimulating pace. He's exhausted, curls sticking to his face and he's doing his best to hide away in the crook of your neck but his cock twitches inside your cunt, warm walls full of his cum seeping out of you, a ring of white around his base and your rocking is relentless. You don't think you can stop, not when he's trembling beneath you, filling his room with down-right pornographic, unhinged whines of desperation, chanting out your name with his jaw faltering as he struggles to suppress his needy desire. You just feel too good, tight and snug, pussy taking him so easily and dragging against his veins and nerves so sensitively that his chest feels like fireworks are exploding again. He's clenching his abs so tight they ache, and he's lost the energy to thrust up, he used it all in the previous round and you gave him no break.

"Use...use me..." he pants, lazily kissing the sweet spot on your neck, indulging in how you moan to respond, "Use me as your fuck toy, angel."

You slow down, languidly rolling and running your hands over his damp curls, gently pulling his head from your shoulder and your eyes search his. Electric surges spark over you when you see his face, flushed and fucked out, eyes half-lidded and his brain sedated with pleasure. You don't speak for a second, purely taking in that, for once, he's the one writhing and shaking in overstimulation.

"You promise you'll cum, baby? Want me to bounce on your pretty cock and make you cum inside me again?"

"Please, please fuck me, y/n. I’ll cum, fuck, yes, I'll cum as many times as you want." Whimpers splurge from his throat as he melts into your touch, hands grasping at your hips while a mutual euphoria encases your bodies. You nod quickly, lust glazing over your eyes, pushing up on your thighs and watching his eyes flutter close. In your hands, his head lulls and a groan slips out when you sink back down, your own jaw falling open as if his cock sliding into you was new. Luke learns something then and there, and that is yes, one round is never enough with you, not when you use his cock to get off.

[mayanneaa]

nights like this - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x kook!reader

SUMMARY : everything between you and rafe changes after one stupid birthday party.

WARNING(S) : drinking, smoking, swearing, kinda allusions to drunk driving please do NOT DO THAT EVER, not proofread

A/N : woahh rafe angst coming from me??? also ignore the shitty message thing I'm doing this on my laptop lmaoo (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 2.4k

part 2, “sparkling” out now! find it here

masterlist.

"Babe, c'mon!"

Sarah's practically jumping with excitement as she's leading you to the front door of Tanney Hill. People are spilling out of the house, most already holding a drink or two.

You hear them congratulating you as you pass by, sending them smiles from eye to eye.

Sarah insisted that you should have a big party for this year's birthday. And, be honest, how could you resist?

You two enter the house and crash into Kelce and Rafe almost immediately.

"Well, the birthday girl is here!" Kelce's first to hug you, and you giggle over his shoulder.

When you look up, your eyes rest on Rafe. He looks as good as always— this time, a grin plastered to his lips as he glances at you.

Kelce pulls away, and it's Rafe's turn. He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder, and the strong smell of sandalwood surrounds your face.

"You look beautiful," he whispers in a low, raspy voice beside your ear.

You’re almost sure he saw the glimpse of your cheeks reddening. And tonight, you don’t even care. It was your night. No stupid feelings can ruin it. Or, at least that’s what you thought.

It’s been like this forever— you’ve known Rafe since you were little, and he’s always been charming.

At first, it was simple things, just like kids would do.

He was letting you hang around, even though you were a bit younger than him. He’d always hold your hand while you were getting on the boat. After some years, you didn’t need any help, but these little moments were yours to keep.

You didn’t notice the moment Rafe started to get more handsome in your eyes, more like… boyfriend material.

It just happened. And after some time, you couldn’t deny it. Something was pulling you to Rafe Cameron.

“Well, see you around, ‘kay? Happy birthday.” Rafe speaks again, and you step back. His touch lingers on your hips before he nods to his sister and follows Kelce to a different part of the house.

You turn around to Sarah, only to see a suggestive look on her face. Her brows are raised, and she's biting her lower lip, trying not to laugh at you.

"Save it," You roll your eyes as you pull her with you to the drinks. "Tonight, I'm not worrying about any stupid guys!"

Your friend answers you with a chant, jumping around and almost spilling her first drink of the night. Someone's already making their way to wish you a happy birthday, and the speakers play one of your favorite songs.

It's going to be good.

After the third cup of Sarah's famous mix, you decide to take a breather. As you walk around Tanney Hill, your vision can't help but spin with each step. The upstairs is much quieter, and the loud thumps of music are not sending your head into space anymore. You don't really look where you're going, so when your feet lead you to the roof, you can't help but let a soft smile on your lips.

It's been your getaway place since ninth grade. Every time something bad happened, and your eyes were filled with tears not meant for the others to see, you climbed out the balcony, fresh air accompanying you.

You settle on the cold, hard tiles, making sure your dress doesn’t get too dirty. You can see everything from up here. The moon’s reflection on the ocean is blurred at the edges, moving with the waves.

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in the salty air.

“Look who’s there.” The voice suddenly breaking through the silence makes you jump.

Rafe’s face appears, his sharp features bathing in the light from the room below. He smiles as he climbs up, taking the spot next to you.

“Hi.” You try your best for your voice not to sound weird.

He shuffles in his place, his arm absentmindedly brushing yours.

"So, got overwhelmed?" Rafe starts. You nod in response, letting out a sigh.

"You know me so well, huh?"

He rests on his elbows, and he has a proud look on his face when he looks at you. "Duhh. I might know you better than Sarah."

You snort. Maybe he's right. But there are little things only you know.

For example, the way your heart races at the moment. If you sat two inches closer, he’d surely hear every single beat.

The two of you sat like this, in the soothing silence. Only the whistles of wind and crashing waves below interrupted it.

"It's so nice..." You finally speak up, tilting your head.

"Mhm." Rafe mumbles, a cigarette between his lips. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black pants, looking for a lighter. When he pulls it out, he raises his eyebrows at you. "Want one?"

You glance at him for a little. It's your birthday, after all. You nod, and Rafe lights up the cig. He takes a blow first, then passes it to you.

You inhale the smoke, a small cough escaping your lips.

"What do you wish for?" He says with a smirk. You give him a quick look and feel your cheeks warm up.

Fuck.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, you do know."

You roll your eyes. "And since when are you so curious about things like this?"

"Darling, when wasn't I curious about you?"

Rafe's got a point. He forced you into a corner, and there's no room for a slick escape.

"Alright," you start, looking at the dark horizon. "I'd like to kiss someone on a night like this."

He raises his eyebrow, moving his body closer to yours. "Are you kidding?"

"What? No!"

What were you supposed to do, tell him the truth? Say, 'Yeah, I wish you'd notice I've been head over heels for you since, like, forever?' No. You had to make something up.

Fortunately for you, it wasn't a total lie. You've always adored this time of the day— soft, quiet nights. The sky filled with stars, the breeze flowing around you.

"Seriously! It's... romantic."

"Oh, yeah?"

He’s leaning in, and when your eyes dart down, his fingers trace the back of your hand.

Before you can do anything, Rafe presses his lips to yours, the taste of vodka lingering in between.

It's soft, almost as if Rafe's unsure. Nothing like the kisses you've been imagining before falling asleep. Those were burning, filled with passion, and you'd usually already be soaked by the rain.

You put your hand on his chest, a move laced with uncertainty, and finally deepen the kiss. Under your fingertips, you can feel each beat of his heart. It's as intense as the thumps of music below your body. This feels so... unreal.

His hands make their way to your neck, holding it from behind and pulling you even closer.

You sober up in seconds. You part from him, your breath coming out heavy.

His lips are red, a shade slowly matching his cheeks.

“Enjoy your wish,” Rafe whispers beside your lips, and you feel your heart fall.

What did it mean to him? You've known him forever, and you've seen how he used to act with girls— making out with them the whole night, not even bothering to text them back after the party's over. He's so nonchalant and so smug that you start having second thoughts.

“Rafe. I swear, if you’re trying to mess with me—”

“Hey,” he grabs your hand and puts it on his chest, near the heart. Now, his heart rate is even stronger than the music thumps. “Do you really think I’m joking?”

You open your mouth, ready to answer when you hear someone calling you. Your eyes widen as you glance over at Rafe again. The smirk on his face seems to be stuck there.

“I- I have to go,” you mumble, trying to get down without giving him a chance to notice how shaky your legs are. And your hands. Actually, how shaky you are in overall.

“I’ll drive you home later. Okay, baby?”

If you were alone, the whole Outer Banks would hear the scream that’s begging to get out of your throat.

“Didn’t you drink?” You try to sound as casual as you can, but the corners of your mouth manage to rise.

He shakes his head, “Not much. You better go down there. They’re waiting for the birthday girl.”

You look at him for the last time before disappearing into the house, cheeks warmer than ever in your life.

Hours later, the crowd in the house starts to thin. You didn't really drink much after coming back— the kiss was intoxicating enough.

Sarah walks around, throwing all the empty cups she'd found in the trash bag.

"Sarah, you don't have to do it now!" You whine, leaning on the couch. "I'll come back in the morning and help you, promise."

She shakes her head, "It's nothing. I'm honestly surprised it's not that much of a mess. You should go and find Rafe, he'll drive you home."

As she mentions her brother, she wiggles her brows with a playful smirk, making you groan. "Shut up! I shouldn't have told you about that after you drank those weird mixes—"

She giggles, picking up the bottles laying next to the table.

You roll your eyes and leave the room, looking around for the well-known face. He's nowhere to be seen here, so you climb up the stairs, moving around the very few people left, sending them soft and quick smiles as you pass them.

"Rafe?" You call out through the empty halls, heading to his room. You wouldn't be shocked if he just went to his room, away from all the people.

His door is left slightly open. You frown as you lean in, peeking through the thin gap. Even though it's not really polite.

A second later you wish you'd never gone there. Of course, Rafe's inside. But not alone.

In fact, there's some touron girl all over him. Her arms are around his neck, and you are almost sure they're shoving their tongues down each other's throats. You don't see much in the dim, warm light, but what you've already seen is enough.

You stand there for a split second, holding your breath, before you turn around on your heels and sprint down, as quietly as you can.

There's a bitter feeling in your throat, the way it tightens. You try to breathe, the air coming out in heavy, shaky parts.

You should've known this. It was obvious from the beginning— how could Rafe, someone who's been around since you were a little kid, see you as something more? As a girl he could be with?

Maybe he did find you attractive, but nothing more. You were just one of many girls.

"Woah!"

You crash with someone, almost falling, but you somehow keep your balance. Topper's standing in front of you, startled. There's a glimpse of worry in his eyes, the brows beneath them pulled together.

"Topper!" you breathe out, "Can you drive me home? Pretty please."

"Uhm, I mean, sure. But wasn't Rafe supposed to drop you off? I've heard him saying--"

You swallow hard. "He's busy."

"Oh, alright. Go to my car, I'll grab my keys and be there in a second, okay?"

"Mhm." You nod and look around to find Sarah asleep on one of the couches. A giggle slips from your lips, a reaction that makes you raise your brows.

Guess you'll have to tell her everything tomorrow.

You head out of the house, cold, breezy air hitting you in the face. Topper's car is already waiting for you on the driveway. You quickly take the passenger seat.

While waiting for the boy, you have to blink away the tears. You feel so... stupid.

Topper comes a few minutes after you. You can feel his stare as you two make your way to your house, but he doesn't say a thing until you are in front of your place.

"Will you be okay?" he asks. You jump on the hard ground and turn around to him, tilting your head.

"Yeah. Thanks," you say softly with a smile. "I'll be fine."

You don't waste a second— right after he drives off you go to your house, trying not to wake anyone up.

The first time you let the tears fall this night is in the shower. The salty streams get mixed with water, dripping onto your feet.

You try to feel anything.

You wait for the anger when you put on your pajamas.

You stand in the fogged-up mirror, searching for the slightest sadness on your face.

Even while laying in bed, minutes before falling asleep, you give yourself a moment to crash out. To be mad, be jealous over a boy you've loved for what feels like forever. But none of that comes.

Instead, you just feel plainly stupid. Maybe it's because of the alcohol in your system, or maybe you're ashamed you seriously thought he could like you.

You don't get any answer.

"Fuuckk."

You're never letting Sarah near the alcohol cupboard ever again. God only knows what she put in those mixes, but your head feels like exploding.

You look around the room bathed in the soft, early morning sunlight. You're not sure how much sleep you got, but it surely wasn't enough for you to forget what happened at the party.

Your phone is on the nightstand, next to a glass of water and some aspirin, probably left here by your mom.

You rub your eyes as you reach for it, your vision is still a little blurry.

There are some messages from Sarah, and you can’t help but smile when you see it all in the caps.

Of course, you can’t be happy for even a minute because, under her messages, there’s a notification from Rafe. Two missed calls and a few texts.

You squeeze the bridge of your nose as you read what he’d typed out.

Typical Rafe. Always acting clueless. So frustrating.

You bite your lip, thinking of how to reply. You didn't have the energy to talk about what you saw. Just like you were numb before, now all the emotions come with full force. If you tried to explain it, you'd probably end up screaming, crying or just completely breaking down.

The best thing to do is not to make a deal out of it— at least that's what you come up with, your head dizzy from being hungover, as your trembling fingers hit each letter.

It's for the better. Because this way, you can't get hurt even more. The thought of you spilling your heart in front of him, and Rafe's response is what he'd always use with the other girls...

You can't let it happen.