#Even when they do give him brown skin he's still blond. I get that there are blond people with brown skin out there

[naruthandir]

i may be the only person on this earth that dislikes blond samwise i don't care this is a hill i will die on he has brown hair and brown skin and brown eyes he is so hot and i will fight peter jackson with my bare hands for making him white

[julietsbody]

KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons. 

tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader) 

a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs

thirty minutes ago. 

art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you. 

art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time. 

“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.” 

ahem. 

you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression. 

you blink at him, once, twice. 

a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.” 

it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him. 

and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better. 

you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“  

“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.

he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint. 

your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement. 

maybe silence will earn points back from your coach. 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

silence did not earn anything. 

art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up. 

the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.” 

“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it. 

if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first. 

he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?” 

“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.” 

art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing. 

to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.” 

you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back. 

smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.” 

he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?” 

ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him. 

and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?” 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

art said he forgave you, right? 

ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.” 

“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you. 

“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind. 

“whatever helps,” you remark. 

“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle. 

once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.” 

eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable. 

“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?” 

you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.” 

“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.” 

“with tennis?” 

“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.” 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you. 

“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds. 

yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really. 

“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet. 

he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors. 

“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before. 

“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually. 

“like your wife?” 

“like you.” 

art corrected you. 

he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well. 

the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe. 

at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose. 

“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty? 

gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy. 

“what?” you frown, confused. 

“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing. 

“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple. 

“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?” 

“what do you mean?” 

art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“ 

“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours. 

“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..” 

“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.” 

“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now. 

“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?” 

you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you. 

when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying. 

he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.” 

“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin. 

he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.” 

“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to. 

“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath. 

“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness. 

“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?” 

“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part. 

“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.” 

he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks. 

soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him. 

he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance. 

“ready?” he hushes out. 

“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already. 

“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more. 

his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well. 

sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas. 

“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches. 

in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm. 

he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.” 

[tteokdoroki]

Denji blushes when you hold his cock hand

☆༉ — DENJI. pretty boy.

about. let’s pretend this ask isn’t years old but yeah actually he does omg :( !! started writing this ages ago but finished for @miguelism mwah <3

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. characters aged up to 20s, smut, nsfw, handjobs, exhibitionism, praise kink, college!au, gn!reader, roommate!denji.

“denji…”

“uhuh— i mean, uh, yeah?”

“has anyone told you, you’ve got such a pretty cock?”

you feel the entirety of denji’s length twitch within your hold— his head full of sunshine blonde hair falling back on the wall you’ve caged him against. your fingers are soft, pillowy around his thick shaft and your thumb presses to his leaky slit curiously, watching his face for a reaction. “y-you’d be the first…ah—fuck!” denji whimpers, golden brown eyes falling away from the world as you give your wrist an experimental flick, testing the waters on what you can do to him. “that’s nice…that’s real nice.”

you giggle, his precum oozing into the seat of your palm the more you start to jerk him off in the right space of aki’s bathroom. “yeah? i want you to feel good, denji.” you doubt that your roommates would want to be woken up by slick sounds and whiny whistle tone moans, so you step forward and reach out into the dark— pressing your lips against your boyfriend’s in a slow, syrupy kiss.

it’s adorable how he chases the warmth of your mouth, like a moth drawn to a candle flame, when you pull away to check the door only briefly. “come back, baby…please,” he pleads while he feverishly fucks your hand as if he’ll never get the chance to do so again. “feels good when you’re close…when you kiss me ‘n you use…shit, y-your t-tongue on me!” pleading turns to soggy, pathetic whimpers that are muffled by your tongue as you push your way back into denji’s mouth to shut him up.

you make denji feel like he’s going fucking insane, desire ripping through is chest, lewd squelching noises from his cock bleeding arousal all over your hand overlaying his soundtrack of moans and tongue lapping over tongues. opaque white slings around your knuckles as it drips from his creamy tip, only serving to guide your fist up and down his throbbing a little easier — as if it were a makeshift flesh light.

he really is so cute like this — pliant and needy underneath you, his body seizing up at your sensual ministrations and his skin shiny with sweat under the moonlight. the chainsaw devil can’t help but hiccup loudly despite how you pacify him with sweet, loving smooches. tears slip down the apples of his cheeks and track salt along your tongue too where they land at the corner of denji’s mouth. “you look so pretty with your cock in my hand,” praise for denji comes easily to you — he deserves to be cherished, to know that he’s good and loved. squeezing the base of his length, you push your thumb through his seedy slit just to see him cry, circling his bright red and mushroomed cockhead in order to lube him up more.

a pink flush blossoms across the expanse of his milky skin with every pump of his dick and his his head falls back against the wall with a dull thud. you lick your lips at the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing and his body shuddering, revealing to the naked eye just how desperate denji truly is.

“do you think you could cum for me, denji?”

the stutter in his hips tells you the answer, but you want a verbal one anyways — so for a moment, you stop palming his dripping wet cock and wait for his response.

“well?”

“please, i can do it,” he pants, eager to please — his honey brown eyes crazed and delirious. “j-just call me pretty again. ‘nd i promise i’ll—“

even with his back pressed right up against the wall and his shoulders quivering in anticipation of his impending high — denji still towers over you. so you stand on your tippy toes, languidly flicking your wrist to get him off, in order to whisper your command into the shell of his ear. “make a mess for me, pretty boy.” you simper, mouth falling open to mock his moans like you’re right on the edge with him.

denji cums with a shout and his release spills into your spoiled palm like a stream of molten igneous rock, painting your knuckles a gooey white. you have to cover his mouth with your remaining hand, muffling any sounds that escape him since his brain quite literally short circuits, reducing the poor blonde to nothing but tears and brainless babbles.

you do your best to keep him quiet while he twitches through the aftershocks — after all, it would be a shame if some else got to see your pretty boy blushing with his cock out.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[saquesha13]

!!Tattoo artist Eddie!!

Steve never imagined himself as a tattoo kind of guy. But back in ‘85 after the mall fire, he ended up getting a small matching tattoo with Robin. Just a simple little ice cream cone on his inner wrist - Robin’s idea really. Something about almost burning to death together in a fire really seemed fitting for matching permeant ink on their skin.

It opened Steve’s eyes, changed his perspective, widened his horizons if you will on the whole idea of a tattoo.

Even just a dumb ass ice cream cone that bystanders see on his wrist, that they probably assume means jack shit but in reality it means the whole world to Steve - is pretty fucking cool.

So, Steve hears about this really talented tattoo artist in Chicago and knew he wanted this guy to do his next piece.

The shop is smaller than Steve expected, smack dead in the center of the city and Steve arrived 30 minuets early to his appointment because he was pretty damn nervous.

This tattoo is not as… innocent as his matching ice cream cone with Robbie’s. It isn’t as meaningful either…

Well, okay, it still has meaning, but only to Steve. He isn’t the kind of guy to get a tattoo just because. Tattoos are expensive first of all, and he doesn’t want his entire body covered in ink. That just isn’t his style. But a peek of a tattoo here and there? Yeah, that’s not bad, that what El would call bitchin’.

“Steve? Eddie is ready for you.” The petite blonde at the front desk smiled, her warm bubbly aurora feeling so oddly displaced in a shop like this, so far from what Steve was expecting.

“Ah, okay, thanks uh…”

“Chrissy.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes before pushing back the black beaded curtain leading to the back room.

“Thank you, Chrissy.” Steve hoped this girl couldn’t see just now nervous he was as he ducked between the beads. He was just starting to let his eyes roam around the gothic decor of the room when the hottest fucking man Steve has ever seen walks in, taking thick chunky rings off his pale fingers and putting them in the pocket of his skin tight black jeans.

Once his rings are safely put away, he tugs the thick dark curls off of his shoulders and tied it up on his head in a knot, some strands poke out framing his face.

“Steve, right?” The sexy man speaks, apparently. His deep voice sounded like honey and pure bliss to Steve’s hears. A smile stretches across his lips making the dimples - of fucking course he has dimples - poke out on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve apparently broke at the sight of this man, because seriously who the hell does this guy think he is coming in looking like THAT?! His voice cracked when he tried to speak making his cheeks turn rosey shade of pink and he had to clear his throat before properly speaking.

“U-Uh, yeah, me is Steve. I-I mean, I am Steve.” He would smack his own forehead with his hand if Eddie wasn’t busy holding it, giving him a nice firm handshake. Steve’s face was burning.

Scratch smacking face, Steve wishes he could just bash his head in on the brick decorative wall in the corner. Put him out of his misery. He’s doing a mighty fine job at humiliating himself already.

“This your first time?” Eddie smirked, his voice somehow dropping lower than it was before.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, clearly confused, no lights on in his brain as his eyes darted between Eddie’s huge brown eyes to the tattoo peaking out under the v-neck of his black long sleeve shirt. God he wished he could see what that tattoo actually was, maybe lick it.

“Your first time getting a tattoo.” Eddie clarified, the smirk never leaving his face as he finally let go of Steve’s sweaty palm.

“Oh, no actually. I’ve had - “ Steve cleared his throat again, trying his dammed hardest to chill the fuck down. “Had got another tattoo before this one.”

“So, you’re not a virgin then?” Eddie winked as he slid on his rubber gloves, covering up the black inked tattoos on his broad hands that Steve suddenly wished he looked at before they were gone from his sight. Then he realized what Eddie just said and his head snapped up to the playful look on Eddie’s face.

Shit. Is Eddie actually flirting with him? Is this how Eddie speaks to all of his clients? Or has Steve finally lost his marbles?

“Nope, defiantly not a virgin.” Steve watched Eddie’s movements closely as he finalized setting up his supplies, grabbing the stencil of Steve’s tattoo. “Not a virgin with tattoos either.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, something gleaming in his dark eyes that makes Steve’s levi’s suddenly feel a little too tight. The grin on Eddie’s face is down right sinful. “Well, Steve, as long as the sketch looks good to you and you are still good with the placement, we can get started.”

Steve leans over and looks down at Eddie’s sketch of what he had requested sitting in Eddie’s gloved hands. Just looking at the two words, at the way Eddie wrote the font knowing it was his work that will be forever on Steve’s body has Steve’s blush refusing to go away.

“Uh, cool. Okay. Yeah it looks good, really good.” Steve had to lean over Eddie’s shoulder to fully see the entire page, not that it was really necessary.

“Lay down on the bed, on your stomach.” Eddie gestured with his chin to the left, where the tattooing bed was. “Make sure you get those jeans off first,” Eddie huffed out a laugh as Steve was about to settle down on his belly, his face turning beat red in embarrassment feeling idiotic.

“You do want your ass tattooed still, right?” Eddie asked, his voice smug at the flustered look on Steve’s face.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. That is why I am here.” Steve scoffed, wondering why the hell he is blushing like a teenage girl in this sexy ass man’s presence. Usually Steve is the one making people blush, not the other way around.

“I don’t usually undress my clients… but I would for you.” Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip, making damn sure that Steve’s face stayed tomato red as Steve swore he saw Eddie look at him from head to toe.

He had to take a deep breath to get his damn body to cooperate downstairs before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging down his fly so he can scoot the denim and his grey briefs down over the curve of his ass leaving them just barley covering his junk in the front and staying on his legs.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he climbed on the bed on his stomach, not trusting his voice whatsoever as his eyes said more than enough, keeping them planted on Eddie’s.

“This good?” He rested his chin on his hands, his entire bare ass out in the open, wondering why the hell Jonathan Byers failed to mention how damn hot his favorite tattoo artist was.

Eddie for once seemed a little lost for words. He doesn’t stay in the room when his clients undress, it’s unprofessional. He never ever offers to take their clothes off for them either. But for some reason his feet stopped working the second Steve’s fingers went to unbutton his jeans.

“Absolutely perfect, pretty boy.” Eddie damn near purred, wondering how he lucked out, to be the one to tattoo this angels ass. Getting fucking payed to touch his ass. To tattoo the words Bite Me on his juicy round cheeks.

It isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo tattooing someone’s butt cheeks. He’s done almost every body part at this point in his tattooing career. But fuck, no client has ever affected him, not like this.

“Skins sensitive here.” Eddie licked his lips as he stepped close to the bed, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could really feel Steve as he ran his fingers over the exposed skin before putting the shaving cream along his ass, shaving the light colored peach fuzz right off his literal peach. “Need numbing cream, sweetheart?”

“No. Don’t need numbing cream. Wanna feel it.” Steve hummed, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. Steve’s red face has faded to pink, finally calming down a bit trying to sit still so he isn’t wiggling his ass in Eddie’s face - not that he thinks Eddie would really mind too much if he did.

Eddie muttered something under his breath, his hands stilling over his ass from where he was wiping the shaving cream away with surprisingly soft hands.

It’s funny, Steve came in set on only getting one tattoo. But as he laid here on the bed, the tattoo gun buzzing as the needles push against his ass, all he can think about is coming back, getting more ink on his body, all over his tan skin as an excuse to come back and see Eddie.

To come back and get Eddie’s hands on him.

But when his appointment was over - much sooner than Steve would have liked - turns out he didn’t need to come back here.

Because Eddie invited him to go home with him.

[504py]

No Compromises

Yandere Canada/Reader – You reunite with an old college friend, though he's nothing like you remember.

⚠️ Yandere content, kidnapping, self-harm, stalking, possible emetophobia (descriptions of gagging and the feeling of illness), no use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader.

IM BACK YAWL 😭😭 just a bit of a filler post and another apology for being away for so long!!! i tried to get this out by halloween but i kept adding more shit LOL

while this is much more aligned with his 2p version, i had no idea if it counts as such since here i portray his 1p and 2p version as the same guy 😭😭 so that's up in the air!

also u may notice the lack of a [oneshot] tag... thats cuz i have a prequel wip for this, but figured i'll just finish and post it if the people desire it LMAO. pls lemme know if y'all do!! anyways so sorry again and i hope u enjoy!!! thanks so much to everyone for sticking around and enjoying what i do 🩵🩵🩵

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The light drag of a cigarette is the first thing you process when you finally come to your senses.

A man stands before you, singular lightbulb leering ominously above a head of overgrown blond hair, the bright light reflecting in his glasses making you unable to see much of his features. His tall, slender figure is highlighted by the stark overhead shadows that are being cast on his baggy clothing. He exhales, smoke billowing and resting heavily in the dusty, stale air.

"Hey." He says, the friendly, casual tone of his voice making you blink faster in the hopes of gaining more lucidity. His tongue pokes at his cheek as he drops the cigarette to the cemented floor and stomps on it. The gritty sound feels like boiling water in your audio-sensitive drugged up state.

"Are the ropes too tight?" He asks with a quirk of his head, you squint, thinking you'll be able to catch a glimpse of his face, but the dark shadows and your pupils trying desperately to adjust to the lighting in the dim room make the task much too difficult. You didn't even notice you were bound 'till you tugged your wrists at the mention of the word 'rope.'

The mystery man straightens his posture and takes a few steps closer to you. His sneakers are downtrodden. The lacing is asymmetrical, any recognizable color or branding rubbed off, and the hem of his loose jeans caked in what seems to be mud.

"Come on, you can speak, can't you? It's not like I taped up your mouth." The tone of voice he uses here is almost playful, yet too vague. You didn't know if it was condescending, comforting, or cheerful.

"I... I'm... Ropes are okay..." You respond mindlessly, your voice coming out in a hoarse croak. God, it feels like your head could loll off your neck at any moment.

"Poor thing. You sound parched– Tell ya what, I'll give you some water if you kiss me." Even if his face is still hazy, you can make out the glint of a smile. His canines are pointy.

He draws closer, and crouches in front of your seated figure. He's a lot taller than you thought, seeing him up close. You see the indent of a pointed dimple by the edge of his sharp lip corners when he turns his cheek to you. There's a few moles on his pale skin. He smells like tobacco, rust, and rainwater. Smells a bit like something syrupy and moldy, but maybe that's just the room.

You shudder away from his close proximity, and he laughs nervously.

"Aw, I thought that'd work." He chuckles, before facing you fully, still crouching.

You can finally see his face. What you thought were dark brown eyes turned out to be a dull shade of purple, just with his pupils as fully blown as they can go. The stare is creepy, but at least his droopy outer eye corners and straight blond eyelashes soften their impression. His nose is well-structured and pointy, reddish at the tip. His sharp lip corners seem to always point upwards, and were pink like they had just been kissed and bitten. If it weren't for this moment, you'd have thought he was an attractive man with a somewhat docile-looking face. His cheeks are flushed, he tilts his head in wonder, a few pieces of his hair falling over his face.

"Merde, you're really pretty up close. I can't believe you're in front of me right now. I missed you so, so much." He giggles, cold hand reaching out to carefully grasp your chin to try and steady your bobbing head.

He swoons, "So, so pretty." then presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. The action makes him exhale a shuddered, moaning breath. Whatever is in your system prevents you from reacting too much besides a weak jerk of your body.

"I should get you out of this shitty room, but I wanted to be prepared in case you reacted more violently. I didn't wanna have to drag you around. Don't wanna rough my baby up." He says with a small smile, as if the thought secretly brings him some amusement. Maybe his otherwise comforting smile just comes off as sinister at a time like this.

"You're reacting so much better than I thought you would, though. You're being so, so good, you know?" He coos like you're a pet, taking his hand off your chin and his blunt fingernails gently scratching at the top of your scalp.

Your throat hurts. You swallow dryly. "Who are you?"

The corner of his mouth twitches, and his smile drops slightly. He takes in a deep breath and sighs, cigarette-stained air blowing over your face.

He squints at you. "You really don't remember me?" He says quietly.

You shake your head. His light eyebrows knit in what looks like an expression of heartbreak.

He tries to jog your memory. "Come on, college sweethearts?"

"...I didn't date anyone in college."

His lips part in shock, the wrinkles between his eyebrows deepening.

"It's Mattie. Come on now." He pleads, desperation dripping from every word. The higher, more pathetic register his voice shifts into begins to jog your memory.

The sound of that nickname makes your eyes widen and forces your shoulders to press against the back of the chair. His identity makes things a million times worse.

"...M-Matthew Williams? No, no, c'mon, we never dated. Don't be like this."

"We had something special, though. I missed you. You missed me too, didn't you? You even remembered my full name." Matthew's gentle voice raises, as if trying to convince you of his feelings, trying to justify this situation.

"Th-There must've been a better way to get in contact with me without tying me up."

He shakes his head, frown almost a pout. "I did try! But you'd always blow me off to hang out with your other friends, a-and– and I just couldn't watch when I found out you were starting to see someone else." Resting on his knees and looking up at you, he grasps your bound hands on your lap. The position reminds you of prayer. Worship.

"I love you. Always have. A-And I know I'm different from how I used to be, but maybe you'll like this newer version of me more. You did say you liked a more assertive partner, didn't you?" His head tilts while he nods, like he's trying to convince you of everything he's saying.

His crazed eyes quickly scan your expression for any validation. "Yeah, yeah... I-I was a doormat back then, so that's probably why you didn't return my feelings." He laughs bitterly, and the sight is almost irritatingly funny to you. He's comparing his former pitiful self to the way he is now, as if he had changed. "But I'm different now. I'm not a coward anymore. I'll take care of you, and I'll do it well, I promise. I'll make you so happy."

"Please, Mattie, j-just let me go, and I'll give you a chance–"

He gasps. "You used my nickname." A disgustingly lovestruck grin spreads on his pale freckled face. He presses your bound hands against his flat chest. His heart is beating wildly against his ribcage.

"Feel my heartbeat. It's all for you. It only beats for you. I promise I can make you feel the same way for me. Just let me."

"...Do I even have any other choice? You kidnapped me."

Matthew's smile falters, eyes drooping, and he looks just as pathetic as he did all those years ago. He frowns flimsily. "I-I'm sorry. But I'll be good to you. Really. I'll be so good for you."

You shut your eyes and lean your head back. Your whole body hurts. Weighing out your options, you make a decision. If this Matthew is just as pathetic as the one you remember, then maybe you have a chance to escape if you butter him up enough.

"Fine. Untie me first."

Matthew's eyes widen. "R-Really? If you fight back, though, I'll have to use force, so, please, just... Don't run."

"I get it."

Eagerly, he brings out a knife and cuts through the rope. He rubs and massages your wrists for you when you're freed from your restraints. Dusts your clothes off for you, too. Though, you're wondering if what you think is a needlessly thoughtful action is just an excuse for him to feel you up.

"Let's get out of this basement, yeah? It's much better upstairs. Promise." He says, gently holding onto your hand. His are covered in bruises and small wounds. Butterflies are taking flight like fighter jets in his stomach.

When you stand up, Matthew pauses for a bit, violet eyes raking over your figure.

"Sorry, I just–" He starts, before cutting himself off by quickly stepping closer to you and encasing your body in a hug. He trembles and lets out a shaky breath, tightening his hold.

"I missed you so much," His voice cracks, "So happy you're here. Really. I feel like I'm on top of the world having you all to myself. You're all mine, finally."

Matthew takes in a sharp, obstructed breath. "Ugh, I–" He pulls away and his voice sounds all wet. He's crying. If you weren't so woozy, you would have scolded him when he wipes his face with his dirty jacket sleeve. Even now, you care about him, and maybe that's why he's fallen so helplessly in love with you.

He feels like he's shriveling into himself when all he does is simply breathe and what comes out is a sniffle. It's shameful, to boast about being a changed, stronger man, only to fall apart with a hug.

Wordlessly, he gulps his insecurities down his scratchy throat and grabs your wrist, taking you up the dusty wooden steps and leaving the basement. He does this with such little care it surprises you a little. It forces you to come to your senses in order to not stumble over your own heavy feet.

The actual interior of the house is much less industrial-looking than what you'd assumed from the basement. Rustic is the first word to pop into your mind to describe this place. Cottagecore, like the trendy people say, but... with a whole lot less of that trendy factor. It definitely is comfortable, which is a relief considering the storm outside.

Oh.

Looking out the window makes you realize something dreadful. You were never scared of the dark, pitch-darkness, even, but the vantablack surroundings beyond the glass begins to shroud you in a shadow of realization; there is a total absence of light. There are no lights, there are no houses nearby, there is nothing. You were in the middle of nowhere. You glance down to Matthew's battered sneakers and mud-caked jeans, and wonder how much trouble they went through to get you here.

He senses your staring, and looks to you, following your gaze and flushing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. This is no outfit for a reunion as important as this." He laughs sheepishly, weakly. He had managed to swallow his tears, with the only evidence left behind being his reddish waterline and nostrils.

"I'll, uh, I'll go change– Just sit down anywhere you'd like. Those drugs will take a bit to leave your system. I'll fix you something up to wash it down as soon as I'm back, sweetie." Matthew stays for a moment, gnawing on his lip like he's weighing something out in his mind, before deciding to just go for it. He leans in to quickly place a kiss to your temple, and despite his attempt at nonchalance, he lets out a thin, shaky breath, before scampering off into what you assume is his bedroom.

Still nauseated, you hobble over to the couch and collapse onto it with more grace than you expected. You spare only a few seconds before forcing yourself back up, making the most of your time alone to examine the area without the pressure of Matthew watching you.

You scan the room quickly, making note of any possible exits. There are only two in this living room. The window, and the lone door against the other side of the room. Nearing and examining the window, you quickly find that it has a keyed lock, and rush over to the door.

Keyed, padlocked, deadbolted. God, he really went through the trouble of installing multiple of these. You could only imagine what his keyring looked like. You wonder if you could nab it.

A long-fingered hand clamps over your shoulder, digging into your collarbones and pulling you back. It's over so quickly you don't even have time to complain and yell about the pain.

"What do you wanna eat?" Matthew asks sweetly. His voice, though recognizable, is different from the way you remember it. His signature softspoken-ness is still there, but it's hoarse, slightly deeper. Maybe it's because he started smoking, but no cigarette can be owed the credit of the subtle confidence in his tone– Maybe not confidence, but some sort of certainty.

Your irises tremble slightly at the startle as you return his stare, before gulping and answering. "...Anything's fine."

"Pancakes it is." He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. As he walks to the quaint kitchen, he pulls a black hair tie off of his bony wrist and begins tidying his wavy, honey blond locks into a low ponytail. His hair's grown so much since you last saw him, and you can't help but think it suits him well.

It's not just his hair, the rest of him has grown, too. Matthew's gained a few inches of height, though he looks slimmer than before. You're unsure if he lost weight, or if his height just makes him look thinner than he actually is. He's aware of it, that he looks slightly worse for wear, but he couldn't help but lose his appetite being away from you for so long. He'll gain it back eventually to look good for you. I have to, he tells himself.

Now that he's rid of his jacket and clad in just a loose, plain graphic shirt, you get a better look of the wounds on his arms. It's mostly around his knuckles and palms, maybe he's clumsy, maybe he does a lot of physical labor, those are strangers to you, but you're familiar with the thin scars on the inside of his wrists. They're faded and old now, thank god, but you remember the long teary nights in college you'd spend trying to convince him not to hurt himself just because you couldn't spend time with him that week. You made him promise he wouldn't do it anymore, and judging by the lack of fresh wounds, he's kept his word. Though those memories make your head throb, you feel slightly proud.

You wobble over to the couch, deciding to take a seat to try and soothe the nausea bubbling about inside you. You remember those red plaid pajamas he's wearing, too. Always wore them whenever you came over. You wince as another wave of pain ripples through your skull, and you wonder if he's purposefully dressed himself like that to remind him of his most favorite time in his life, one that he thought was yours too.

That smell of butter, vanilla, and syrup doesn't help. While your stomach does respond to the smell, you can't help but think of Matthew first before the food. He always smelled faintly of maple syrup, along with hints of lavender and men's shower gel. His old apartment reeked of it. You never thought such an innocuous scent could bring you so much irritation.

Matthew glances behind him, finding your zoned out, furrow-browed stare.

"Your head hurting real bad?" He calls out from behind his back, focusing on the current stack of pancakes he was building by the stove.

"Yeah," You say under your breath. You're not sure why you even bothered responding if you knew you were gonna answer so silently. A part of you felt it rude had you just been unresponsive, but good god, forget the formalities, he'd kidnapped you!

After a few more moments of head-clutching silence, Matthew arrives, sitting on the couch and placing a plate of pancakes on the wooden coffee table in front of you.

"Come on now, you should eat. You've been knocked out for a while, you're about to miss lunch and dinner." He says lightly, a faint sternness in his voice, like he were speaking to a child. You scoff feebly.

"Nah, I... I don't really feel like eating." Despite the apparent hunger pangs in your stomach, you feel terribly sick in the throat, like you were constantly on the verge of retching. As much as you wanted to down the food he's prepared for you, just the thought of eating makes you gag.

He lets out a small laugh. "Want me to feed you?" Scooting closer, he leans down and tilts his head to get a better look at your pallid, gloomy face, heavy with queasiness. You're still so beautiful, he thinks.

You shake your head adamantly at that, immediately regretting it at the dull pain that amounts from the action. "No, no, I'm alright, Mattie," You bite your tongue when you realize you've called him by that stupid nickname again. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

He can't help the cheesy expression on his face and the way his heart flutters at the nickname. "It'll get worse if you don't eat." He pouts. "Come on, at least five bites." He picks up a fork, already slicing a small bit for you, and holding it up to your mouth.

You look at it with a small frown and wince in your expression, and his eyes darken.

"I'll tell you where one of the keys are if you eat."

Those words grab your attention immediately, and haplessly, you take a bite of the pancake he offers you. Matthew lets out an airy giggle.

"I remember you used to complain so much about this. Whenever I tried to feed you." He says with a pointy, wistful smile. "You've changed a lot over the years. Still so in love with you, though." His gaze is heartbreakingly warm.

You look at him, heart stopping in your chest for a moment at how sincerely he's looking at you. His heart does the same, but just at the mere action of you meeting his eyes, acknowledging his existence.

"You too." You say simply, despite your thoughts being so much more than those two words imply. When his cheeks redden and his lips gape, you quickly correct yourself. "Uh, that you've changed. Not that I love you." He huffs a dry chuckle.

"Figured, but I wanted to believe it." Matthew cuts up another piece of the pancake and offers it to you. You bite, and his blush only darkens. While you're chewing, he speaks again.

"You're not wearing that bracelet I made you anymore." He makes a sad face.

You swallow, "It's in my apartment. Felt too bad to throw it away." The light returns to his lavender eyes and he grins warmingly at you.

The bracelet is simple, a thin twist bracelet made with red thread, all entwined together with love. Matthew gave it to you during a morning class, blushing and stuttering. He made one for himself, too, like the red string of fate, he giggled when he said this, lovingly looking at the matching bracelets around your wrists. Now that your vision was less foggy, you can now see that what you thought was a wound was actually that same bracelet around his wrist. The color has faded slightly, more dull with dirt and age, while yours is still as vibrant as the day he gave it to you. It's a shame he didn't nab it when abducting you.

"You still care about me." He grins, almond eyes sparkling with mirth.

"To my own detriment." You smile emptily at him, taking the fork from his grasp and quickly eating the rest of what you owe him.

"The key?" You remind him, and he seems like a lost puppy for a moment, before it hits him, his pointy-fanged grin widening. He chuffs bashfully, as if a secret of his had been revealed, before he answers, awfully joyous; "Oh, I was lying." He laughs almost childishly.

A feeling of cold dread and shame drips from your head and down your shoulders. Of course, why did you assume so easily that he'd just hand that to you on a silver platter? At the same time, of course you would, he's Matthew Williams, the same man who gave you his coat and paid your bus fare the first time you two met. He insisted you kept it, said it suited you better and he's got hundreds more like it anyways. You did, you kept using it over the years even when you graduated. You used it this morning, maybe that's why it was so easy for him to recognize you. Your gullibility strikes you with chagrin and you can only retaliate by pushing back.

"What? We made a deal. Why would you lie to me?"

Matthew's usually docile expression falls, and suddenly you feel like you genuinely have no idea who this man is anymore, and you regret thinking that you could just walk all over him and out that door like you did all those years ago.

"Do you think you have any control over this situation, sweetie?" He crawls closer, palms dipping the couch cushions. "Did you really think I'd guard you so loosely? After all these years?" The collar of his shirt hangs from his neck as he leans down, collarbones prominent. "Did you think I'd let you leave me again? Stupid." He spits, though it seems like the final insult was more directed towards himself than you.

You scoot back until your back hits the armrest, and before you can try and slide off the couch, a lithe arm cages you in.

"It tore me up, ripped me to shreds and I came back a different person, but the only thing that stayed, that didn't change, was my love for you– No, my love for you is what broke me in the first place. Please, god, just soothe me a little." Matthew's voice crescendos until it cracks, hysterical expression making you relive the hell that was your college days together.

"Just love me a little." He whimpers weakly, before pressing a desperate kiss to your lips, moaning in surprise as if he wasn't the one to kiss you first. It's short, brief, like it zaps him, too much for his poor racing heart to handle. The bright smile returns to his face when he pulls away, breathless. It stays despite the horrified look on your face.

"Why are you so disgusted? You already tasted plenty of me in those pancakes. You looked so cute eating up my spit." He teases, his glee evident in his voice, the loose strands of his hair tickling your face. The realization of what you had just consumed, what now sits heavily in the pit of your stomach, was something of his, makes you dizzy with abhorrence. You try to push him off, but he slams your shoulder back into the cushions, hands vice-like and heavy against your skin.

Matthew is panting, and when he catches his breath, his eyes widen and his irises shake. You can see his pupils contract and dilate. "I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry– Didn't mean to– Ah, merde." He whimpers, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. He's already reduced to a groveling mess, and you've barely said anything. "Please love me, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I love you!" He cries, and you hate that you really do feel sorry for him.

You hate him, hate the shit he keeps putting you through, hate how soft his voice is, hate how pathetic he is, hate how reliant he is on you, hate seeing his tears. You hate how he still manages to pull pity from you despite everything he's put you through.

With a shriek through gritted teeth, you fist his shirt and yank him down, this kiss is intended, and definitely felt like, more akin to an act of harm over love, but poor Matthew can't tell the difference.

He melts into it with a loving sigh despite his bleeding lips.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[lvlyghost]

I love your stories so much I can't 😫😍😍❤️

Could you maybe write a angst to fluff ghost x reader story where the reader gets injured badly while ghost is on her side the whole time in the hospital while she is unconscious and he's having breakdowns and anxiety and all really angsty stuff and when she wakes up she comforts him and all is fluffy and maybe a bit smutty 🤭

No More Stars Left to Count

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Few things made Simon break down. Almost losing his girl takes a toll on him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

TW: Smut! MDNI! Angst, hurt, comfort. Injuries. Panic attacks. Grammar mistakes just the usual... Do not read if you're under 18.

A/N: I'm actually quite happy with this one🥹🩷 Enjoy Anon! This is my first time posting smut and in another language so sorry in advance if there are mistakes! Corrections are appreciated ✨🐝

Masterlist✨

Simon's head rests on his left hand, his eyes bore into your fragile body. Several machines are attached to you, helping you breathe, pumping meds into your system. He doesn't deserve you by any means. He doesn't deserve your trust, your laughter, your body.

All he can think about— as his brown orbs can't find the strength to look away— is how miserably he had failed to protect his team. To protect you. It's been twelve days and you still don't show any signs of waking up; it wasn't abnormal for you to not wake up. The damage inflicted to your body had been great. Simon thought for a painful moment he had lost you for good. The woman he cared for. The woman he utterly loved.

He swallows hard.

There aren't many things that'd scare him. He's simply seen too much. But this? Was this truly his destiny? To lose everyone he loved? His family and now you?

He inhales sharply, his free hands traces your inert hand, tracing soft patterns on your pale skin littered with cuts and bruises. That very hand he adores to hold when you were together. He blinks, memories from your last night together flooding his brain as he sinks further down the chair, adjusting the hoodie over his head.

The night before leaving for the mission in Romania.

-

"No, wait look Simon! Give it to me!" You chuckle, under the covers, both of your bodies remain warm. It wasn't unusual that Simon couldn't sleep so he'd often come into your room and spend the night with you. "There." You pointed out. Your hand and his hand stretched out in front of you, slowly you touch his, spreading out your palms comparing hands. Your eyelashes flutter at the mere sight of his big calloused hand outsize yours, completely engulfing it. You splay out your fingers until they're intertwined.

His breath catches in his throat. He loved how small you were compared to him. He wanted to protect you from everything even from himself, but you had refused to leave him when he tried to push you away.

"Come here." He grabs your arm pining you down and under his gargantuan body. You squeal, laughing at the sudden change of position; Simon sets his body between your legs. Your arms rest on his sides, layers of muscle tensing under your touch. Tilting your head back, eyes meet the dark sky outside the window.

"Look at them." You mumble, Simon lays a kiss on your neck taking advantage. He loves the feeling of your steady pulse on his lips. "The stars are so bright tonight." He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to grip his blond locks.

There's a fire burning in your belly and the ache between your thighs when you feel the tent forming through his grey sweatpants.

"Need you, love." He grumbles. His hands undress your bottom half making you gasp.

"Simon..." soft pink lips kiss your body. Your chest, your stomach... until he's lost between your legs. Mouth lapping at your wetness. You squirm under his touch, it's intoxicating. It feels like you might combust. The fire running through your veins, the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh as you clench around nothing. Unable to resist it you grab him by the arms. "You know what I need." In the blink of an eye two bodies intertwined moving desperately chasing the sweetest end together. He murmurs soft encouraging words in your ear that sent shockwaves through your veins, Simon couldn't possibly be more deep inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you want to scream, nails digging on his back, surely leaving red marks that he would proudly show tomorrow.

The purple and orange that tinges the sky outside filters through the window, casting an ethereal display of colors around this room that hides away the few moments you get to spend with him as you finish together; feeling impossibly more in love with him.

"It's clearing already." You point out. Simon looks up from your eyes, albeit reluctant to miss the beautiful shade of your orbs. "No more stars left..."

He kisses your forehead, then bumps his nose against you before he finds your mouth.

"There'll be plenty more to count tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

But you're not counting them as he promised the night before. Instead he's shouting orders like an enraged man. Heart beating out of his chest, you were so close to the evac point with your squad. Five minutes ago he had squeezed your arm and kissed your temple before urging you to get in the land rover from the SAS. Only to watch it blow seconds later. His heart stopped and then the ringing in his eardrums.

It was an ambush.

And as the rest covered him he rushed to you.

The blood. Crimson blood all over the bodies. He knew what this meant.

"Sergeant!" He forces his body to move, dragging you by the straps of your combat vest to take cover behind one of the vehicles. He knows he shouldn't be moving you like that, but right now he can't think of anything else than getting you out of there... "Bloody fucking hell!" He roars.

What was that feeling, like his soul was being ripped apart...?

-

Releasing a shaky breath, Simon squeezes your hand once again careful not to hurt you. The IV in your hand too foreign. It's too much. The sight, the memories of the vehicle flying through the sky...

The pit in his stomach grows, a wave of nausea and uneasiness hitting him all of the sudden. Simon stands on wobbly legs, taking one last glance at you he steps out the ICU. Crouching down he yanks the balaclava from his face. Why was his chest so tight, and his vision filled with blackness? The incessant ring on his ears is real. Fucking real. It was supposed to be a nightmare... this thing pulling him down.

"Come back to me baby." He pleads in a hushed tone although he knows you can't hear him. Simon lifts his hands to find support on the wall in front of him. He breathes as much air as he can through his nose, tries to blink away the black dots.

"Lieutenant Riley?" A feminine voice wafts through the empty hallway reaching him. He holds out a shaky finger without even looking at her.

"Leave..." he warns.

"Sir? I...-" the nurse hesitates.

"Now!" He barks.

She scurries away but not before calling the doctors and the Captain to the med wing.

Simon stays there until his ragged breathing evens, he then goes back to your room, deep down he hopes—prays— that your eyes will open when you hear him. But you don't. He sits again on the couch where he's tried to sleep, tossing the mask away from him. His throat bobs, what's happening to him? It burns. The door creaks open revealing a concerned John who looks at him in disapproval.

"This isn't going to help anyone Simon." He scolds him.

"What do you want Price?"

"You need to sleep. And for... just for the love of God eat something son."

"Not until I know she'll be fine."

Price sighs closing the door behind him.

"She wouldn't want this." Even then, Price doesn't want to look at you. This had taken a toll on everyone. But Simon wasn't handling it well. Rubbing his eyes he scoffs. "Come on go get some rest I can stay."

"No." Both men stare at each other not wanting to back down. "I'm on leave you don't get to tell me what to do Price."

John crosses his arm.

"I'm worried Simon. I want her to be okay too. We all do."

Simon's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists. They don't really know. They don't know, can't comprehend the extent of his love for you.

"What if this was your girl? Would you leave her fucking side hm?"

A tense pause electrifies the air as the two glare at each other, oblivious to the other person whose eyes are tearing.

The beeping sound increases as your heart rate goes up. Two pair of eyes snap to the sound. Your hand tries to snatch the oxygen from your face, but Simon darts out with dread plastered all over his features. You faintly hear John calling the doctors.

"Easy, love. Easy..." he soothes you. Stopping your hands from moving. Your body is in too much pain, tears slip down your cheeks, once again Simon grits his teeth. If he could he'd take it all away. "Don't force yourself you're..." he trails off. "You're hurt."

It feels like you're body is being torn apart. The drugs are slowly leaving your system.

"What happened?" your croak out, throat dry and inflamed. He sits bringing the glass of water to your lips not before removing for a brief moment the oxygen mask. You take a small sip and thank him with a weak smile.

"Ambush." He explains. Hating that he can see the images all over again in the back of his mind. "Thought I lost you."

More tears well in your eyes, as weak as you feel you reach out your hands tracing his jawline and cheekbone. He closes his eyes, and finally breathes again, with you touching him he feels alive again. He wants nothing more than to go home with you.

"How many nights..."

"Twelve..."

The doctors rush in but before they drag him away you say:

"That's a lot of counting we've missed."

A press of his lips on your forehead, a silent promise to never let anything happen to you ever again. Even if it mean giving his own life for yours. He would do it any day. Better him than you.

"We've got the rest of our lives, love."

[atydblack]

trouvaille

regulus black x slytherin!reader

masterlist

this is part one of an ongoing series! think there will be 3 parts in total &lt;3 no cws as this is gonna be pure angst

Being James Potter's younger sister inquired a lot to live up to. James was the perfect Gryffindor student who succeeded in all his classes, exuded confidence with his every word, had soulmates for friends and an even better girlfriend.

You, however, were almost the opposite.

You were sorted into Slytherin in your first year and although they tried their best to hide it, you could see the disappointment in James and his friends eyes as you walked over to the Slytherin table. Your parents were still accepting but there was some clear favouritism in the family, no doubt. You did well in classes however didn't ever see yourself becoming a prefect like James or being top of any classes.

You sat in potions next to your best friend, Lara. Her straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes opposed my black curly hair and dark brown eyes. You had always been jealous of her, she was the type to catch everyone's eye when she walked into a room while you just trudged in behind her.

"Do you have idea what this question means?" Lara asks you, huffing slightly as she rested her chin in her hand.

"You really think I'd have the answer if you didn't?" You joked. You glanced up at Slughorn who had started dozing off behind his desk and you smirked. "Look."

Lara mirrored your smirk and you both dropped your quills on the desk to turn around and start talking with your friends instead.

"I'm bored out of my mind." Lara groaned to your other friend Freya sat behind you.

"Slughorn says if we don't get these all finished, he's gonna give us all detention until we get them done." Freya rolled her eyes, but you could clearly see that she'd almost finished.

"Have you got the number to 42?" You asked her with wide eyes, trying to sway her in to letting you copy her. "And 43, 44, 45... and the rest?"

"Merlin your voices are retched." A voice came from a couple desks to your right, none other than Enoch Wilkes. He was a tall boy with sleeked back greasy hair and a superiority complex due to his family heritage.

"What's your problem, Wilkes?" Lara shot at him.

"I'm trying to actually do my work but all I can hear is Potter's squeaky voice in my ear." Wilkes replied with a grunt.

"She's just as unbearable as Saint Potter except dumber." Icarus Nott joined in from next to him.

"What did you just say?" You spat, standing to your feet and making your way over to them with your wand gripped tightly in your palm, willing to do anything to stand up for your older brother. There was a third boy sat with them, Regulus Black.

Regulus had always been quiet, however he never failed to be part of the horrid Slytherins who gave your house a bad name and thought they were elite causing them to look down on everyone else. He had only made a few sly comments in past years, but everyone knew his thoughts on muggle blood.

You were also a pureblood, but would never allow yourself to feel any prejudice towards anyone else.

You couldn't deny that Regulus was attractive. He looked a lot like Sirius... however his facial features were softer. His dark black hair fell onto his forehead effortlessly and his green eyes complimented his pale skin.

"You heard me." Nott mocked you, not moving from his seat. You had gained a small audience as everyone's head turned towards you.

"What an embarrassment having a Gryffindor blood traitor for a brother." Wilkes joked, not backing down. "At least Black had the right idea and cut his off, what's stopping you from doing the same?"

"Y/N, sit down." Freya begged from across the classroom, not wanting to get either of you in trouble. "He's not worth it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." You smirked, holding up your wand and pointing it right at him.

You were closest to Sirius out of all your brothers friends. He had moved in with your family two years ago after he left his family and you'd always been there for him, especially during everything that happened with his brother Regulus. Regulus was clearly a lost soul, strung along on the same ideologies as his parents however he would send letters to Sirius every once and a while but continued to act like he didn't exist at school.

"Leave it, Wilkes." Regulus muttered. Funny this is the first time he had ever attempted to stick up for you and it was only to save his own back.

"What's she talking about, Black?" Nott glanced at him, but Regulus' eyes were set on yours as you stared each other down. You knew you would never actually say anything to expose Regulus as doing so would only hurt Sirius too, but you could sense how scared he was that you'd open your mouth.

"She's a freak." Wilkes chuckled. "Just like her brother."

This sent you over the edge as everything turned red. You dropped your wand to the floor and quickly punched Wilkes square in the nose.

"Olive!" Lara shouted from across the classroom.

You felt a pair of strong arms pulling you back as you attempted to go in for another hit.

"What on earth is going on?!" Slughorn announced and you all froze. You turned around to see it was in fact Regulus' arms that were holding you back and a brush grew on your cheeks. "Black, Potter - sit down at once!"

You both complied, with a guilty expression you made your way back over to your desk and your friends gave you an apologetic look.

"I expect to see you both after class." Slughorn continued.

"But sir-!" Nott shouted, attempting to stick up for Regulus.

"I don't want to hear it." Slughorn quickly cut him off earning a scoff from the boy.

The lesson felt like it took hours to end but you felt slightly ill in your stomach when everyone else was packing up to leave but you and Regulus sat firmly in your seats.

"We'll be in the great hall; I'll save you a seat." Lara smiled at you before her and Freya took off out the classroom and to dinner.

"Both of you have detention with Filch every night after dinner starting tomorrow." Slughorn mumbled, uninterested. You scoffed as you were way too used to detention with Filch now.

When you were dismissed, you quickly stood to your feet and attempted to leave ahead off Regulus to avoid any awkwardness. You began walking down the corridor, ready to rant to James about what had occured.

"Potter!" Regulus called from behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned on your feet with a confused expression on your face. He approached you slowly and timidly before speaking. "I-uh. I wanted to thank you for not saying anything about Sirius and I."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Sirius." You mutter before turning back around and leaving him there dumbfounded.

You reach the great hall and make a B line for your brother and his friends. James smirked at you as you approach him with a sour expression on your face before sitting in between him and Sirius, your green robes standing out in the sea of red.

"What's up with you, Y/N?" Sirius smirked before patting me on the top of your head.

"I've got detention again this week." You huff, crossing your arms and leaning them on the table.

"How do you manage to get yourself into so much trouble?" Lily quizzed you, a humorous look on her face that mirrored the rest of the group.

"She takes after me, that's why." James joked but you only rolled your eyes in response.

"Yeah, apart from the brains." You sigh, leaning your head on Sirius' shoulder. You glanced over at the Slytherin table and quickly caught eyes with Regulus, who must have been staring at you. You kept eye contact for a short moment before he turned his head and acted like it never happened. You furrow your eyebrows and listed your head once again. "At least I'm the better-looking sibling." You continue, causing everyone to laugh.

"Keep dreaming, kiddo." James rolled his eyes.

"Go on then, what did you do this time?" Remus questions you.

"I punched Enoch Wilkes in the nose during potions." You say smugly causing everyone to laugh once again.

"I would advise you that violence isn't the answer, however we can make some exceptions for people like that." Remus smirked.

"Tell me about it, they're horrid." You scoff before stealing some food from James plate. "No offence obviously, Sirius."

"Go ahead," Sirius chuckled. "I had to endure it for most of my life."

[diamond-champagne]

5. I Need You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

warnings: none but let me know!

feedback is always welcome, besties <3

Enjoy!!

December 2023

The UConn Women’s Basketball Team is celebrating at Ted’s on Thursday. The team is going into their Holiday break on a winning streak. Final exams are finally over. That and the overall giddiness from the holidays makes the team extra cheerful. The alcohol is flowing steadily and their table is buzzing with laughter.

Azzi is sitting at their shared table with her arm around Riley. The two are engaging in a conversation with Nika about Christmas movies when Aubrey yells “Y’all look at PB blushing like a schoolgirl”. The group immediately turns their attention to the blonde whose attention is currently being occupied by a man. He’s got a few inches on the basketball player, standing at a full 6’6. The man in question has caramel skin and Azzi can tell that he has at least half a sleeve on his right arm.

The group watches them interact. It’s obvious from his body language that he’s talking loudly so that Paige will hear him over the music playing. Whatever he says must be funny because the girl tosses her head back in laughter. It also must be complementary because she blushes harder. A smile graced her lips. Azzi can tell that she isn’t sure how to accept whatever compliments he’s dishing her.

It doesn’t matter though because he’s still talking to Paige. The mystery man is in the middle of doing said talking when he reaches for the basketball player’s waist. He pulls her closer so he can lean down to talk in her ear and she let’s him.

The two are completely unaware that they have an audience until they are about to part ways. Azzi watches them switch phones to seemingly exchange phone numbers when she catches Paige’s eyes. Her eyes widen and she blushes some more before scurrying back to the table with the rest of the group. She’s greeted with whoops, praise, and many variations of “Get it, Paige” before she sits down.

“Paige Madison, who was that?” Ice asked.

“His name is Cam. He’s on the football team.” Paige smiles.

“And what did this Cam say to have you smiling like that?” KK asks excitedly.

The blonde shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. The smile itching its way on her face betrays her. “He just called me pretty. I don’t know! He’s just nice.”

Azzi decides then that doesn’t like Cam. She doesn’t like his tattoos or that he plays football. She also thinks his name is stupid.

More importantly, Azzi doesn’t like he talked to Paige more in a 10 minute conversation that they have in weeks. She doesn’t like he pulled the older girl closer to him in a bar full of people. Azzi hates that Paige seemed to enjoy it because there was a time that she was pulling Paige closer in a bar full of people. Azzi hasn’t done that in a very long time.

That thought angers Azzi. She’s angry at herself for letting them get this messy. She’s angry at Paige for not fighting harder. She’s angry at Cam for doing all the things she couldn’t; all the things she wouldn’t.

It’s the anger that fuels her next comment.

“So it’s that easy, huh, Paige? We just have to call you pretty?”

The entire group, including Riley, looks at Azzi in shock. She doesn’t care about that, though. She cares about the look that Paige gives her. It’s a combination of shock, hurt, and embarrassment.

She just humiliated her best friend in front of everyone.

The worst part is that Paige doesn’t even argue back with her. She just looks down at her fingers and remains silent.

Azzi starts to apologize but before she can, Riley is pulling her out of the bar. The volleyball player only stops tugging her arm when they are alone, standing in a secluded section of the parking lot.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” Azzi flinches unintentionally. She’s never seen the other so upset. The brown-eyed girl opens her mouth to speak but stops immediately as the other has raised her hand to communicate that she isn’t done.

“You’ve been off for fucking weeks. At first I thought I was crazy but then I saw how you reacted when Paige invited Blaire to Aubrey’s house.” Riley scoffed but then continued. “I knew you had feelings for her. I should’ve known better.”

Azzi immediately begins to apologize, “I’m so sorry-”. Riley doesn’t want to hear it. “You’re an asshole; and not just to me. What you said in there was fucking disgusting. Paige didn’t deserve that.”

The basketball player nods in agreement and understanding. She doesn’t trust herself to speak anymore. She doesn’t even know what she would say.

“I know, bu-” Riley cuts her off again. “You clearly don’t know, Azzi, because judging by the face Paige made, this isn’t the first time you’ve hurt her either.”

Azzi doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing and watches as the volleyball player turns to leave. The basketball player turns to walk back inside Ted’s hoping that she gets the opportunity to apologize to her best friend.

That hope quickly deflates when she realizes that Paige isn’t there.

“Where did she go?” She asked desperately.

“She left.” KK answers. Azzi doesn't miss the glare that the freshman throws her way.

“Where did she go?”

“Azzi, maybe that’s not a good idea.” Caroline states carefully.

“Where did she go?” Azzi frustratedly repeats. Her patience is wearing thin. She needs to see Paige because for the first time since she’s known her, Azzi feels their friendship slipping away. Azzi knows that their friendship had changed; but she never thought that there would be a day when it was over. That can’t happen. Azzi needs Paige.

“She went home.” KK says suddenly. Her confession elicits looks from her teammates. Azzi assumes that they weren’t supposed to say anything. She doesn't care though because she’s leaving Ted’s before anyone can tell her otherwise.

-

Paige watches as Riley drags Azzi out the bar; waiting until they are completely out of sight before getting up to leave. The blonde-haired girl can feel her eyes fill with tears and quickly blinds rapidly to keep them at bay.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.” Paige announces before getting up from her seat. There’s a chorus of protest from her teammates but all she wants to do is get home; preferably before she starts sobbing in the bar.

“Paige,” Carol starts. “Be careful.” Paige nods and leaves the bar.

She makes it all the way home and through the door before she breaks down. Paige doesn’t make it to her room; instead, she slides down her front door to sit on the floor. The blonde-haired girl sobs harder than she has in a while. Her body shakes, her nose is runny, and her head hurts. She sits there for a minute and while she is still crying, she is calm enough to get off the floor. Paige makes her way into the bathroom with tears down her face to get into the shower. She cries as she takes off her makeup and gets into the shower. She cries as she gets dressed in her pajamas. She cries as she sits on the couch, curled up in a blanket.

Paige is angry. She’s angry at herself for loving Azzi. She’s angry at Azzi for doing this to them.

She’s also tired.

Paige is tired of being angry. Paige is done.

-

The sight of Paige after she opens the door breaks Azzi’s heart. Her blue eyes are swollen and tear filled and her nose is red and runny. It strikes something deep within her to see the older girl so upset. Azzi isn’t even sure how to fix the mess she’s made.

“Can I come in?” Azzi asked softly. She watches as Paige wordlessly steps to the side to welcome her into her space. Paige shuts the door before moving into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The blonde-haired girl then grabs some Advil to ease her headache. She takes her medicine while Azzi starts the conversation.

“I’m sorry” Azzi whispers.

“For what?” Paige asks as she sits her glass on the counter. The younger girl immediately crosses the kitchen to invade the older’s space. She reaches for the blonde to pull her into a hug when Paige flinches away from her touch. Azzi’s eyes fill with tears as a result. Paige doesn’t want Azzi to touch her.

“Paige, please!” Azzi cries.

“What are you apologizing for, Az?” Paige asks. She’s not crying anymore but her voice is thick with emotion and her body drags.

“For what I said at Ted’s” The younger girl starts. “I got jealous seeing you with that guy and I got-.” she tries to explain before she gets interrupted. “You don’t get to be jealous.” Paige sneers. “Not when you have a girlfriend, not when you left me in the morning to see her, and certainly not after you left my apartment when I asked if you had feelings for me!” The blonde-haired girl spat.

“I know I messed up but I’m sorry, Paige.” Azzi pleads. Tears flow freely down her cheeks as she thinks of what she can say to fix this.

“You’re sorry for Ted’s?” The older girl questioned. Azzi shook her head in agreement.

“Fine. I forgive you. Now, leave.” Paige demanded.

“N-No” Azzi stutters out. “We need to talk about this!”

“Talk about what, Azzi?” Paige exclaimed. “Should we talk about how you don’t want me but clearly don't want anyone else to have me? or Should we talk about Riley? Or we can talk about-”

“Fuck, Paige! I said I’m fucking sorry!” Azzi exclaims while flailing her hands. In her movement, she knocks the glass off of the counter.

The glass shatters. Its contents, water and ice, leave a mess on the floor. Paige immediately drops to start picking up the broken glass. All of the energy she once had, gone. Azzi doesn’t miss a beat in helping her.

“I'm sorry.” Azzi speaks softly. Paige can only sigh as a response. She feels like she’s been here before too many times.

“Stop apologizing.” Paige grunts out. “If I apologize to this glass, it’ll still be broken. It won’t fix anything. You apologizing won’t fix anything. I’ll still love you in the end. My heart will still break in the end. So, just stop.” Her defeated tone shatters Azzi from the inside out.

“Paige-” Azzi starts before Paige cuts her off. “Just go.” the blonde says.

This time, Azzi listens.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[writella]

Daryl comes home midday and you allow him to distract you from your work and studying with kisses. (cw: daryl x afab!reader, just a little more than suggestive- 18+, mdni- but ends quickly, kisses and sweetness! wc: a little over 1000)

Palms slide on the bed, arms caging your backside as you read; and soon enough, without you even knowing he came through your door, Daryl is there— lips right by your head, whispering in a mixture soft and gruff, the word, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply, turning over to look up at him, not hesitating to let your favorite distraction invade all your thoughts. You take in his face in the sun’s high noon glow. From your view, the sun brightens his features, making strands of his brown hair a dark blonde, and his blue eyes become deep ocean wells even through the squint. But to him, the sun is shining down on you, creating an outline of an angel’s glow in the sky.

Well aren’t you two in love?

“Still at it?” He asks, taking note of the book and papers and packets surrounding you before kissing at your jaw and nuzzling into your neck. It was just supposed to be a greeting, obviously you were studying, but then he lingers there for a moment. It feels so nice here, with you, in this room— it’s peaceful; quiet and airy.

Your cottage was dark other than the sunlit window. It felt cooler than any other house in Alexandria. A nice change for his hot skin that had been out working since morning; and of course before that, he was gone for most of the week. Typical, but you’re both used to it. Him, always doing something, always helping. It’s just what happens when you’re the guy everyone goes to when they want it done right. Not to mention he did like to be needed— even if he never showed it— and he preferred the outside more than indoors. The outside did sometimes mean without you though, so any chance to remember exactly how the feeling of your touch felt, he took, like now. Even if he memorized every part of you, the feeling of the pads of your fingers against the hair and veins and scars of his arms and face, nothing was like the real thing. You felt the same, that’s why you instinctively parted your knees when you turned over to face him. How could he help how perfectly he fit in between? It was seamless.

Soon enough you were kissing. It’s soft, but the undertones of fire hearts wanting more were there and fastly growing. Daryl comes closer, elbows placed above your shoulder, your thighs closing in his waist. You grind upwards, and he downwards. He puts a hand on your cheek, your jaw. You touch his own. He kisses you, slips his tongue into your mouth, taking the lead. The small mmms come out then. Everything is perfect, this feeling is so right. Even if he’s sweating. Even if you hate when he dirties the sheets with his muddy, forest worn clothes. When it’s Daryl, it’s hard not to give in. The next moment is always unknown.

You touch the shorter part of his hair at the front, his bangs— he hates when you call them that— and then your fingers slide through the rest, twirling down to the end of his strands. The sweat and humidity from outside has made patterns in them. Your kisses become pecks until you let go. Looking at him tenderly you say, “I like when your hair gets wavy like this.”

He moved his face to the side, your palm meeting his jaw. He nuzzles until you reach his nose, he kissed your hand, then kissed your shoulders, breathing in the tops of your arm, you feel the air, it’s warm; it tickles lightly. “You smell nice,” he finally responds. A compliment as a thank you to yours. Never can take one, can he? He just focuses on you. Right now: your scent. He can’t describe what it is, something that he can only define as pretty; the color pink; flowery— you.

You smile as softly and sweetly as the smell he describes in his head and kiss his lips again, quickly, a peck, then another, kiss, kiss, kiss until your lips mold again. Your tongue enters his mouth this time, sliding against the top and you twist your head, but he overpowers, he can’t help it. Daryl really likes kissing. It’s more than he ever thought he would before he started to love you. There is something about the innocence that comforts him. You can make it passionate, sexual, but you can always bring it back to innocence and puppy love and being like teenagers; things he never got to experience with the purity of it all. It’s nice. A way to show his affection through action; wordless romanticism. He adored it. He thought you deserved it.

Your hands reach for his hair once more, you play with it. Your fingers lace through the nape to the split ends you couldn’t even tell were there. He likes it, it feels soothing. Your other hand is on his neck and you feel the vibrations of his gruff humming. Even if you’re under him, you’re able to make him feel good. You sigh happily and start to roll upward on him again, he’s making you feel good too and you need him. You kiss him quick, returning to the open mouth pecks: kiss, kiss, kiss, and then you linger- two pairs of parted lips locking in on a final moment, it feels enchanted, but then he withdraws.

Your eyes become wide as you look up at him. What will he do next? You want him back.

“Gotta finish your work, sunshine.”

Wait! But— you knew he was right… you were procrastinating, but really you let him, he started it, it’s his fault! So, really? Now? No more? Not even just a little?

Afraid not.

He kisses your shoulder, smelling that pretty flower pinkness one more time. “I’ll be back when you finish.”

You reply with a voice of sad reluctance, “…okay,” you sigh.

You knew better though, working in daylight was for the best. Who else was going to teach these Alexandria kids unless you committed yourself to learning how. “Promise?”

His eyes examine the blooming of your lips. “Y’know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Usually he’d keep it there, but he did miss you, and he sure did take note of how needy you were getting. He gives in to the pretty pink flower pout. “Promise.”

And with that, his finger slowly moves down your clothed mound until it finds your clit, one press in as he kisses your lips once more and all the heat from below pools. You feel it hotly. It was the quickest touch, as quick as he retracted it, and then he left.

Oh… guess it’s time to finish that reading, you suppose.

[diorcities]

dumb blond

pairing: park jisung x afab!reader.

genre: smut.

content: jisung's a pervert, oral sex, unprotected sex (jisung pulls out), choking, hair pulling, manhandling, riding, slight cum play.

wc: 1,5k (didn't count this time)

after inviting your boyfriend to your dorm room to keep you company while you were studying, you realized that maybe it wasn't the best decision you've ever made. you had asked him to help memorize the elements of the periodic table, but one thing led to another, and after getting bored, your boyfriend decided to change the rules of the game.

"it could be anything," he says simply. explaining the ways of his guessing game, where you'll get whatever you want if you get the answer right. so he waits, running his fingers over the pages, even when he already knows the answer. how he likes it when you're vocal. "what if i get it wrong?" you want to know. he shrugs. "then i get something."

he leans back against the headboard, making room between his legs for you. facing him, his gaze runs over the notebook.

"bromo."

shit.

he watches you lose your mind, hacking away in bits and pieces in search of the answer. "33?". he clicks his tongue. "too bad, gorgeous," he pities you, "now, strip."

your eyes widen at his words. almost speechless, but thinking about it. your hands go to your shirt, starting to lift the fabric up to the top of your head until you're down to your bra. you catch him looking too much at the exposed area. "atomic mass?" he asks, clearing his throat.

"jisung," you groan, rolling your eyes. he laughs. "you know the rules."

even when you lost at convenience, and getting exactly what you wanted, there was still a desire to win; reluctantly, you pull off your pajama shorts. "let's go on..." he says, but you cut him off. "you forgot the symbol," you remind him. crawling toward him, you say, inches from his face, "gotcha. it's br."

he smiles, satisfied, before you pull him into a kiss, humming softly as you feel his velvety tongue lazily play with yours.

"carbon."

"c," you reply. "atomic number 6." "atomic mass." with each answer, jisung leaves lingering kisses on your lips, until it is impossible to answer. he leans over you, causing his glasses to slide down his septum and hit your forehead gently. "12,011," you add eventually.

"mercury."

"hg. take off your shirt." you don't know if he's doing it on purpose, putting the easiest elements on you so you can guess them. at this point, he's not even looking at the notebook to make sure you're right. it lies open on the bed, oblivious. "atomic number," he asks. in his eyes dances the flame of mischief and amusement. pupils dilate in his crescent eyes as he smiles when he sees that you don't know the answer. "lie down on the bed." you do as he asks, watching him hover over you.

"antimony."

"ji...," you wail. "you should know better. you've been studying since the afternoon," he suddenly excuses himself. "i don't know," you admit, giving up. a smirk of victory appears briefly on the boy's face before he leans over you. you close your eyes as you feel his warm breath impact your skin, which reacts to the act impulsively. his lips leave a trail of random kisses all over your naked body. "iodine," he asks now, and because your mind is completely blank, you cannot respond.

you hear jisung chuckle lightly, feeling his smile on your skin, before his hands travel to your back, which arches at his intentions, freeing your bra.

"boro." his fingers brush the lower area of your breasts, frolicking. your skin bristles at his fingers, desperate for him to finally touch you. in a lucid moment, the fog in your head from the carousel of emotions disperses. "b."

"tell me what you want," he pronounces. his voice has become thick and husky, his brown eyes consumed in their entirety by his black pupil. you take his hand between yours, curling your palm around his index and middle finger, bringing his hand right where you want it.

jisung holds your chest, contemplating your bristling skin, before beginning to trace patterns on the sensitive surface.

"aluminum." his movements stop, and it's complete torture. your mouth feels dry and you feel dazed for a few seconds. "shit... a?" you try. jisung purses his lips and slowly denies “al, atomic mass 26.981539." he moves closer to you, and you think he's going to kiss you, but his lips drop down and miss yours before you feel his wet mouth around your nipple. you let out a gasp, as your hands shoot up into his hair. his head makes light movements as his teeth gently bite your skin. his kisses move to the next, using his hand to caress your other breast as his mouth does wonders for your sanity.

"ji..." you whisper, feeling your body beg for his. his face pulls away from your chest and down, and down, and down. "hydrogen," he says, and you know he's letting you have it easy. when your mouth utters an answer you're no longer sure is right or wrong, you add, "take off your pants."

you see him turn away from you to do as you ask. your gaze sweeps over his slender figure, before stopping on the bulge that is marked on his underwear, threatening to rip the fabric of his pants. your body moves out of self-consciousness, pulling you closer to him. jisung holds still as you scatter kisses across his lower abdomen. your eyes seek his gaze, already contemplating you from above. his thumb caresses your cheek as you decide to release his length, which hits his stomach, erect.

shit, you never get tired of admiring it.

jisung's hands go to your hair. on his wrist lies your hair tie, which he uses to put your hair into a messy ponytail. your heart skip a beat when you remember the other times he did the same because he has a thing for your hair tied up when he's fucking you.

"put it in your mouth," he encourages you, "i know you can." and that's all he has to say, for you to wrap your mouth around his cock using your hand to make circles each time it goes in and out. you bob your head up and down, hearing the little husky sounds jisung makes, urging you to keep doing it. his length jolts slightly as you pull it out of your mouth, making jisung moan in disagreement. you don't have time to react as he hovers over you and pushes you onto the bed, pressing your back against the mattress.

you see him hold his member in his hand, while the other remains holding your thigh, to one side of his hip. you feel it press on your entrance, a current shakes your body. your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes into your hips slowly, his cock expanding you for him. your arousal allows it to enter easily, stopping momentarily, and you are already seeing stars. your legs wrap around his back, pulling him towards you. jisung buries himself deeper, and your body reacts by arching. mouth open letting out a choked moan. his hand goes to your neck, squeezing slightly. you hear him laugh. "i haven't even started and you're already like this." before gently thrusting into you. “do you want it all, gorgeous?” he asks, and you nod two, three, four times. you want to feel it all complete. you want all of him.

jisung's lunges make you see galaxies. he penetrates you again and again, with harsh and hungry movements. his grip keeps you firm under him, as he destroys you with every thrust of his hips. touching the sweet spot of your pussy, without ease. he grunts and breathes, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, holding it at an angle that gives him more access to your abused cunt. your mouth produces nonsense sounds, brainwashed. an electric current whipping through your senses, skin-deep, before he stops. his hands turn you around effortlessly. you blink dazedly and lethargic, feeling his teeth bite into your ass cheek before he aligns on you again. you smile blissfully as he grabs your hair and continues to pounce on you, pressing your hips into him, he pushes you down, placing you in the position he pleases. you support your weight with your hands, burying your head in the mattress as jisung burrows into your cervix.

his rhythmic thrusts change pace, fucking you with slow, hard strokes. his moans accompanying his movements. yours join. feeling faint from the exhilarating sensations, desperate, eager for more. you start to move your hips against his. the impact clouds your senses and sends spasms through your extremities. "do you want to ride it?" you nod awkwardly. you almost squirm as he pulls himself out of your heat, but you fall silent as he sits next to you, waiting. you climb up on your hindquarters as best you can, swinging one leg over his waist. jisung helps you balance on him. aligning his cock his with your entrance. he glided hastily, moaning in sync.

you kiss the soft skin of his shoulders and neck, while you feel his arms around your waist. the feeling of him completely inside you is so intense and overwhelming, that it causes you to tighten your legs around his hips instinctively. your walls contract and jisung jerks his head back, before you begin to rock your hips, eventually bobbing up and down.

jisung holds you while he looks at you from below, your body in a desirable and sensual swing. he swears his vision blurs when he watches you. your face contracts before the carousel of delight that you are sharing. observing him moan for you, closing his eyes because the feeling is so overwhelming, but opening them again because he doesn't want to lose an instant of you, drinking in your sight.

"shit… ji, 'mgonna c-cum." your nails dig into his skin. his mouth finds your jaw and neck, and he sucks gently, marking you as his. "fu-uck, me too." his confession only makes you move faster. your moan dies in his mouth as he kisses you, before leaning back to get a better view of your hips colliding with his. the act allows you to lean back, holding on to his legs, bouncing mercilessly on his dick. feeling your muscles tense more and more. feeling a tingle followed by your mind clouding over and your walls tightening by wrapping up his length.

you hear jisung growl, and it's all you need to release in shock waves. a current bathes your body as you reach your climax, and spasms attack you in waves as you don't stop moving your hips, stimulating the sensitive zone. you feel jisung tense under your weight, finally reaching his orgasm. you take out his member that squirms as he empties his seed on himself. you use your hand to stimulate him as he cum, hearing him hiss at the sensation. with slow, firm strokes, you milk his cock for him until the boy is a bundle of soft moans. his length falls limp on your pelvic crease. you lick the residue from your fingers and do the same with his cock tenderly, savoring the taste of him.

jisung invites you to lie on his chest, welcoming you warmly as you listen to the erratic beating of his heart, becoming calmer and calmer. "even though i love this plot development, i still have to study for my test," you mutter, "how am i supposed to say that the atomic mass of aluminum is 26.98?" you remember, getting up to take your notebook and take a look.

jisung laughs.

"981539," he recites, as your eyes sweep over the number. your mouth opens in awe because he got it right. you look at him with a vicious look. "do you want to play again?"

[cattordi]

3. the new neighbor 🥥

a/n 𓇼 i’m writing these chapters a lot faster than expected 😫 but the obx drama has ben fed and obsessed w rafe so enjoy. also my links aren’t working therefore i cant update my masterlist

summary 𓇼 after returning to the obx, you rent the cameron’s guest house; forcing you into close proximity with your ex boyfriend— rafe.

pairings 𓇼 pogue!reader x exbf!rafecameron

warnings 𓇼 angst, annoying guys, ward, weed

˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹

the three word sentence rafe says isn’t what you expected to hear. those words aren’t anything you’ve heard him say.

at least to you.

you close the door slowly, tears welling in your eyes. as you turn away, a voice startles you.

“he doesn’t mean it.” you turn to see ward, rafe’s dad. he has a slight amused look on his face.

“yeah.. sure.” you say as you begin down the stairs.

your relationship with ward was never good. he never liked you due to your background, and he only dealt with you because of rafe. though his relationship wasn’t good with rafe either.

“he still loves you.” he begins, “to much in my opinion, but” he shrugs, “if you’re what my son wants.”

huffing you ask, “did you just let me stay here so you could talk down on me?”

ward shrugs and walks past you, going down the stairs, “rafe could do better. i’m sure you know that, so i want you to see him do better…. be with someone better actually.”

you’re speechless as he continues down the stairs and into his study.

𓇼

the next morning rafe wakes up, hungover. his head is thumping as his blinds reveal the bright sun outside, but his mind goes directly to you.

specifically what he said to you.

quickly, he gets out of bed, almost throwing up in the process from all the alcohol.

rafe rushes downstairs before asking, “where’s y/n?” wheezie and rose shrug before sarah says, “oh, she went into town early this morning. why?”

“nothing.” he curses, “where’s dad?”

they all shrug, which pisses rafe off, “thanks for the fucking help.” he says before slamming the back door closed and going outside.

outburst from rafe weren’t unusual or out of the blue, but this one just didn’t make sense. he’d made it known to everyone in kildare that he was completely over you, and wanted to be as far away from you as humanly possible.

but gets upset when you’re not around.

angrily, rafe marches over to the dock, pulling a container out from under a patch of sand. opening it reveals five already rolled joints and a lighter.

𓇼

“i don’t think he could ever hate you.” kie says before throwing back a shot. you and kie are at a bar in figure 8, after she begged you to come out and get a taste of the men you’d “never noticed” before because you were all “up on rafe”.

“yeah he could,” you begin,” and also that kinda contradicts why we’re here.”

“well i’ve given up since you won’t talk to anyone. i suggested wyatt,” kie starts and points to a tall, blonde sitting at the bar. he’s covered in tats, and has long hair.

“and landon,” she continues and points to another tall man. he’s brown-skinned and has waves but he’s talking to another girl.

“and even preston.” she finishes and you look over to see preston. he’s on the shorter side, leaning towards 5’10 unlike the last two who were well over 6’2. he has dark brown hair which is buzzed. you had to admit he was pretty hot.

“fine” you give in, “i’ll talk to…..preston.”

kie smiles, “okay okay. i’ll sit here. you go flirt, and then come back and tell me everything.”

“okay” you mummer and walk towards him. you’re wearing jean shorts and corset top, which shows off a lot of cleavage.

he’s looking down at his phone when you walk up to him, his friends are around him drinking beers, laughing, and making unattractive faces at the poor girls walking by.

“hey!” you say as nicely as humanly possible, “i’m y/n. i saw you from across the bar and i just wanted to see if i could get your number or something. if not that’s fi-“

“sure, why not?” preston says and holds his hand out for your phone. suprised, you hand him your phone.

he types his number in quickly, “so y/n, i haven’t seen you in figure 8 before. are you a pogue or did you just move here?”

“i’m from here actually. i moved a few years ago and just came back.”

“hm.. why?”

“why’d i move or why’d i come back?”

“why to both.”

“i moved because i needed to get away from anything, or in my case anyone, who kept me from moving forward. and i came back becau-“

“who was it?”

“you don’t know him” this was a lie. everyone knew rafe.

“i’m sure i do. shoot.”

“no you don’t, honestly.”

“i probably do. just tell-“

“she already fucking said you didn’t know so give it a break.” a deep voice says from behind you and you already know who it is.

we both turn to see rafe. he’s wearing a long sleeve henley and dark wash jeans.

“come with me y/n.”

“what’re you doing here rafe?” you’re slightly annoyed yet slightly relieved because your conversation with preston was going nowhere.

“y/n. come with me.”

“no rafe.”

out of the corner of my eye, i can see kie approaching us.

“i said come with me y/n.” rafe is clearly fuming and you can tell he’s gonna snap.

“dude she said no.” preston says and you admittedly regret him saying that because in a blink of an eye, he’s off his barstool and on the floor due to rafe punching him.

the bar goes silent until one of prestons friends yells “what the fuck dude?”

“kie,ill be right back and preston i am so sorry .” you say angrily and grab rafes hand, pulling him out the bar.

once you’re both out on the sidewalk you shout, “what the fuck is your issue rafe? how’d you even know i was here?”

“kelce texted me saying he saw you here so i asked him to watch you.”

“you sound fucking insane rafe. we aren’t together. you fucking said you hated me.” you start and turn to walk away.

“where are you going?”

“away from you!”

as you walk, rafes hand snakes around uou, turning you to face him. “you drive me insane y/n.” rafe groans and smashes his lips into yours.

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 4!!

July 4th <3

Wings - @jegulus-microfic - words: 901

TW: Referenced drug use

First part Previous part

“Are you lot supposed to be doing that?” Regulus snorted as he took a seat next to Barty under a tree near his cabin, Pandora sat with her legs in the water, splashing someone every now and again.

Regulus had a long day, he and James woke up early and took the kids for a tour around the camp. They visited some of the animals, planned some activities, and he nearly got pushed over by a thirteen year old when James convinced him to play tag with everyone. It’s a miracle no one got hurt, it was pure chaos.

Barty had a blunt between his fingers, holding it to his mouth and moving it to Evans.

“Me and Ev have never been caught before.” Pandora spoke slightly dreamily, smiling to the sky. “Plus it’s night, all the kids are asleep

Dorcas shortly followed from the direction Regulus had came from, throwing herself half into Regulus’ lap and half onto Barty.

“Want a hit Dory?” Barty asked, giggling, yes giggling, slightly as Evan stroked his hair.

“I will hit you if you call me that again.” She hissed, swiping the blunt from her friends hand and holding it up to her mouth, releasing a sigh.

Regulus made grabby hands to Dorcas, she passed him the blunt with a smirk as he blew smoke into the air.

“How was your day?” Pandora asked as she skimmed a stone on the river, it going shockingly far with a cheer from Evan.

“Potter was a piss take, as per usual.” Regulus spoke with a shrug. “The kids are decent enough.”

Pandora hummed, waiting a few moments before speaking. “My day was amazing, thanks for asking!” She smiled. “Lily Evans was so-“

“Hot?” Barty and Dorcas asked at the same time.

“Beautiful?” Regulus queried.

“Sweet?” Evan added.

“All three!” She squealed with heart eyes. “Let me finish though.” Her face dropped into a face of curiosity and soft thoughts as she spoke.

The group groaned in unison, there goes the rest of the night.

-

Regulus wasn’t entirely sure what time it was now, but it had to be late… or early morning. God knows.

The group seemed to get louder and louder as the night went along, Regulus just prayed they didn’t wake any of the kids up or this would be his first and last summer working at the camp.

“Where would you fly if you had wings?” Pandora spoke drearily, now on her back on the grass, her blonde hair splayed everywhere.

“Mars.” Dorcas replied.

“I’d scoop my dad up and drop him into the ocean.” Barty snorted.

Regulus pointed at Barty and nodded vigorously. “Yes, that one, but with both of them.” He spat.

The group talked and laughed, joked and splashed, complained and smoked, until the sound of rustling leaves broke Regulus out of his current trance.

“What the fuck are you lot doing?” The groggy voice of James Potter spoke as Regulus turned around, smiling innocently.

“Oh- hi Reg.” James’ face lit up, something unreadable taking place in his eyes before disappearing quickly.

“What does it look like, Potter?” Barty snapped.

James gave Barty a wary look, his eyes still slightly sleepy and his morning voice cracking as he spoke. Regulus will not be addressing how endearing he finds him right now. “How do you even know my last name?“ He snorted. “You don’t even know me.”

“Oh I know plenty about you, James Potter.” With a threatening tone to his voice, Barty scowled. Taking a step forward into the light, James’ brown skin reflected the slowly dispersing moonlight, that was the main thing that Regulus took high notice to due to his total lack of shirt.

Regulus sat in silence and tore his eyes away from the addictive sight, sipping at one of the cans of beer that Evan brought, despite the fact that his can had been empty of liquid for the past half hour.

“Barty stop being a prick.” Regulus mumbled into the can.

“I actually don’t think it’s physically possible for him to stop, it’s who he is.” Dorcas spoke with a dramatic sigh and a hand to her chest.

Pandora pouted and reached over to give Barty a forehead kiss. “Poor baby.” She tutted.

“Do you know what time it is?” James asked with a twitch of his lips, looking Regulus directly in his slightly bloodshot eyes.

“No.” The five of them spoke.

“Well.” James started. “It’s four in the morning and you lot are obnoxiously loud.”

Regulus scoffed, attempting to stand up but failing and resorted to sitting back down on a tree stump. “Says you.”

“And we,” James pointed to Regulus. “Need to be up early for first aid training tomorrow- well, today.”

Groaning into his hands, Regulus attempted to stand up again, James now rushing towards him and offering him a hand. Normally, Regulus would scowl and hit it away, but his slightly drunken brain just took it and registered how soft it felt.

He really likes holding James Potter’s hand, he thought to himself.

Stumbling forward into James, the brunette caught him and laughed, pushing him back towards the nearby cabin.

He swore he heard his friends laughs and whispers as he held onto James on the way back, but he really didn’t have the energy to question anything right now.

The questioning would come tomorrow, his brain is already fried enough.

Next part

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤFOUR !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART FOUR. sorry that u love me !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤJENSEN POV!! fictional school lore. minor manipulation tactics. one (1) y/n and it DID upset me to do as much as it might u to see </3. reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 2.2k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. i did not ever expect to do a jensen pov but honestly i just felt like this one deserved it. he's such a little rat but i'd let him hit it raw ok. before you say girl stand up... ik u were thinking it too... i see u ...

laurel dance academy was fucking cute. a prestigious little building deep in the forestry of outer dallas, tucked away from prying eyes and wanderers, full of some of the prettiest girls that jensen had ever seen in his entire life. 

they were all just as hyperfocused on their education and practices as you were, which meant that the most he got for wandering down the long, winding staircases and stopping to look in every two way mirror was just a look. 

a look! he was fucking trespassing, and all any of the college aged women and scattered men did was eye him, like they were just as aware of how he didn’t belong as he was. 

dangerous, dangerous. he was already trying to think up ways on how to get away with this more often. 

at least he was here for a purpose, and not just in an attempt to get a look at you in your little leotard again. he wondered if you tossed it after he debauched it, or if you’d thrown it in the wash and figured that was enough to get the stain of him off of your skin and your clothes. unfortunately for you, it wasn’t going to be that easy. he rather liked playing with his toys more than once. 

the dean of the school, tracy geralds, had agreed to a meeting with him. it honestly was a long shot, making that request in the first place, but if powerless was going to become something other than a glorified garage band, he had to take some risks that didn’t involve squatting in an abandoned venue. 

they needed shows, concerts, fucking get togethers if they had to settle for that. and while they were still clinging the dust out of every nook and cranny inside of sunset blvd’s walls, they couldn’t do it there. 

laurel had a stage. it was more designed for an orchestra, really, or, you know — dancers. but it was the first idea he’d gotten in their pursuit for getting the band’s name out there. it had nothing to do with you, even though he’d gotten the idea from your affiliation at the school. it was just too damn easy. 

he raps his knuckles on the dean’s closed, cloudy glass door. he waits one, two, three seconds before deciding to twist the knob and invite himself in. what was she going to do, expel him? 

she’s an older woman, pale blonde hair streaked white in places. her eyes are deep brown, thin lines in the corners, and deeper ones around her mouth. her lips twitch upwards in a small, polite smile. 

“jensen, is it?” she asks, moving around neatly stacked papers on her desk to clear an open space in its center. “go on, have a seat. i’m not going to bite.” 

“hey, you never know,” jensen jokes as he steps further into the room, tugging the chair in front of her desk out just enough to slip in the open space. he collapses into the cushion, stretching his legs out as much as he could in the small area. “i should thank you. for meetin’ me like this.” 

tracy geralds picks a pen out from the container at the corner farthest from jensen, and clicks it a couple of times. “i wouldn’t do that yet,” she says, grabbing a paper from one of the file folders. he was throwing this. she wasn’t even giving him her full attention which, he wasn’t entitled to it, but how was he supposed to flirt his way into getting what he wanted if she wouldn’t look into his eyes? 

“i think i’m gonna put my trust in you, tracy— i can call you tracy, can’t i?” his lips quirk in that panty dropping grin he utilizes so often. that smile’s latest victim had been you, and he could still hear the sound of your restrained moans in his ears. “me n’ my crew aren’t gonna fuck too badly with your stage, if you allow us to use the space.” 

her steely, dark eyes flick up at him. “i’d appreciate if you didn’t say fuck here, mr. ackles; not when you’re trying to swindle your way into getting something you want for free.” 

“oh, i wasn’t expecting free,” he quickly interrupts, and his eyes fall to the curve of her button up shirt, gaze tracing the form of her chest— or, lack thereof. god fucking damn it. he had so little patience, and so did she, and he had nothing to work off of. 

her thinned lips press into an even thinner grimace. “you think i’m going to be bribed with the promise of your—” 

a knock sounds at the door before she can finish, and jensen is almost relieved. he’s not in the mood to get his ass handed to him by a woman twenty years his senior, telling him that all he had to offer was, in fact, weak as shit. 

“come on in,” tracy says, her near sneer of a grimace still directed at jensen. 

he was fucking throwing this. 

the door creaks open, and he can’t help but be nosy. he’s already here. he tilts his head back in the seat to look at who was stepping in. 

his smile doubles in size, becoming something more genuine and less forced, at the sight of you. 

your eyes fall down to his instantly before they ever glance at the dean, and he shoots you a wink before turning around again, legs spread and entirely too comfortable for someone who wasn’t necessarily welcome. 

“oh,” you say finally, three seconds too late. so damn cute, he can’t stand it. like a little bunny! “i’m sorry, i can come back later, dean ger—” 

“don’t worry about him. we’re all but finished here,” the dean says, and he has to physically bite back the scoff that raises from his chest. yeah, he’d thrown this shit completely down the drain. unless…

your eyes glance between him and the dean a couple of times, before you clear your throat. “the cd, with the sleeping beauty songs? it, um, isn’t playing the music anymore.” 

he’s never seen you look so sheepish before. the urge to tease you about it is right there on the tip of his tongue, but he shouldn’t right now. he’s pocketing the information for later, though.

“really?” the dean asks, and jensen looks at her again, seeing the shock written on her face. mixed in with it is the slightest hint of fond exasperation. no surprise that you were a damn teacher’s pet type. “it’s brand new.” 

you make a dismissive sound. he’s glancing between the two of you like he has any fucking clue what this means; like he has a right to learn it, either. “beats me.” 

“i’ll go and take a look at it after this,” tracy assures, “and might just make a request for another, just in case. can’t have our aurora without her tracks, can we?” 

aurora. 

no wonder you were a teacher’s pet, you were the lead of whatever the hell performance you guys were talking about. jensen didn’t know how performances worked when it came to dance, but he knew disney princesses — of course he knew disney princesses — and could context clue the shit out of it to assume that you being aurora was a big deal. 

“thank you,” you say, and the door creaks again, like you’re about to leave. 

that won’t do. jensen sits forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, head swiveling around again to look at you. you really are a cute thing, dressed in a pale pink leotard and a matching skirt. your hair was slipping out of the tight bun it was usually in, front strands falling in loose ringlets. 

the smile didn’t work on the dean, but he knew that it worked on you. “hey, sweetheart. no hello?” 

the silence is so fucking heavy that, for the first time in what must have been ages, jensen regrets opening his mouth. the smile on his face becomes less charming and so much more strained. 

you don’t say a word. something about that irks him; the way you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights, your pretty pink lips parted and unspeaking. 

the dean does, though, a hint of incredulity in her voice. “you know each other.” spoken like a question and a statement at once. 

“neighbors,” jensen explains, and the white lie rolls off of his tongue so easily that it could have been the truth. the best lies were part truth, anyways, weren’t they? he’s starting to relax in his seat again, realizing he could salvage this. it was possible. his eyes flit back over to the dean. “she’s actually why i thought of laurel in the first place. i know all about the grandeur of your auditorium from her.” 

you’re glaring at him. he feels it like fire on the back of his skull. dean geralds’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “i didn’t know you hung out with… such a crowd as this, y/n.” 

the dean’s eyes bounce between jensen’s heavily tatted hands, his rugged beard, his ( definitely ) mussed hair, and then to behind him. jensen turns, too, unable to resist seeing your expression at such an observation. 

your lips are curled in the most delicious scowl, your eyes full of hate and fire, as they fall to his. “surprise,” you bite out, and how pretty anger sounds in your voice. he’s heard nothing but that, until now, but it never fails to knock him off of his high horse every time. 

“well, in that case,” the dean sighs heavily, “you must know about the fact that he wants to share the school’s auditorium, i assume.” 

your anger deepens into vibrant red. your cheeks flush with it. jensen half wonders if it’s because you don’t want him infiltrating your space, or because you’re thinking about all the opportunities he’s going to get to see you now. he can almost see the memory of a few nights prior flickering in your eyes. 

“jensen’s a bit of a fool when he sets his attention on something,” you say, and he has to physically bite back the laugh that wants to spill out of his mouth because of it. “it’s all he’s been talking about. doesn’t shut up about it.” 

oh, you are fucking feisty today. he has half a mind to bring up the fact that he knew how to stamp out that fire in you, but he won’t. not in front of your dean, at least. 

“i’m sure you can enlighten me on why he wants laurel so bad, in relation to the tens of other actual venues in the vicinity?” jensen is not a popular person in this room, but he’s having too much fun seeing you on the spot, practically squirming against the door, to do the right thing and tuck tail. “all the information he’s given me is poor attempts at bribery and flattery.” 

ouch. whatever. couldn’t win them all. 

your lips upturn at the corners, though, and that makes everything but you in the room disappear. forget the old ass woman behind him, and the clicking of her pen, the scratch of the ink against whatever she was scribbling down. you were captivating. 

“his band’s trying to fix up sunset blvd,” you say, your shoulders lifting in a little shrug to punctuate it. “until then, they don’t have anything to perform in. i’m guessing that. i don’t know. he doesn’t tell me any of the whys on his goals.” 

hot damn, were you good. he could read each of your expressions like a book, and apparently, you could read his. 

“i assume he didn’t want to go far from home,” you add slowly, like you’re trying to piece together his motives as you spell them out loud, “and knew that i went to school here.” he didn’t. but pretty little lindsey from destiny dance studio spills everyone’s secrets when she has someone’s head between her legs. “and figured he’d take a chance.” 

the dean made a humming sort of noise behind him, contemplative in nature. this was farther than he ever would have gotten with her, because now that he’d gotten his eyes on you again, the idea of fucking his way into a deal with someone with more gray hairs than blonde made him didn’t sound like such a great plan anyways. 

the rolling chair she sits in groans, and he turns over his shoulder to look at her again, even if it physically aches to pull his attention from you and that fiery look in your expression. “thank you, dear. you may return to class. i’ll be down to check that cd out momentarily. and you,” she says, glancing at jensen now, “you’re incredibly lucky, mr. ackles, that the odds somehow fell into your favor.” 

the office door closes behind him at the same time as jensen’s heart stumbles in his chest. his mouth opens and closes a couple of times before it settles on a grin. “i’m very lucky, yeah. i’ll make sure to let her know how thankful i am.” 

and he planned on keeping that promise, at the very least.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck @casatoan @mo0nwalker @manicjk @stereotypicalbarbie @inpraise0fbacchus @fitxgrld @depressionbarbie2023 @n-o-p-e-never @star-yawnznn @suckitands33 @stoneyggirl2

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[passionateseadruid]

when he walks in…

A few things… there is some Lucifer slander but that should be expected as he is the devil from da bible.

Also a few references to Paradise Lost. How can you write bible fanfics (or anything about Luci) without referencing the OG bible fanfic.

Sera is also a big part of this but I want to think that she was kind before the exterminations.

Also my interpretation of eve.

And Adam is so Ooc but there is still bits and pieces. I definitely headcanon that he wasn’t always a misogynistic prick but was spoiled because he never ate the apple.

And finally (Y/n) is used to refer to reader but it’s completely gender neutral.

Your purpose was to keep Lucifer busy so that he wouldn’t go out seeking Lilith.

The first memory you had was blurry and the conversation you overheard was fuzzy but you’re sure it was about you.

“I don’t want an angel I want the human woman.” A man shouted.

“You don’t want an angel, fine!” A woman replied as if trying to calm a toddler throwing a tantrum. A slight sting came from your back, feathers flew around you.

“Oh really? How’re they going to get around without wigs, Sera?” There was a triumphant tone in the man’s voice. “Face it, they can’t live here if they’re human but they can’t be down there because it’s supposed to be just a single man and a single woman, and if they have wings they’re an angel so I don’t want THEM!!”

“Fine!! You know what!! They’ll bleed red like the humans do but I’ll give them the wings of an insect. They’ll be like nothing or no one else. Will that make you happy. A being not quite human but most definitely not an angel.” You felt your skin contort and mutate as Sera molded and shifted your flesh.

“You want me to be with some hideous monster? No. Sera, no! I love Lilith. She’s just the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Lucifer stop! She is Adam’s wife. You can have my new creation.” Sera pushed you forward and the first thing that properly came into your vision was the short man with blond hair and rosy cheeks.

“Get that freak away from me!” He shouted and ran off.

“Did I come out wrong?” Sera’s heart almost broke as you said those words.

“No Darling. You’re perfect. Just give him time.”

He never came back after that. News that he had taken Lilith away swept the city behind the pearly gates.

“Did I do something wrong Sera?”

“No darling. He never gave you a chance. Come on now. We should get back to work.”

“is that all I’m good for? Work work work! I have to run around maintaining balance for people who don’t even care about me, and all because Lucifer didn’t choose me. Where’s my choice?”

“What do you want to do then?” She groaned.

“I heard that a new bride was made for Adam. He named her Eve. I also heard that Raphael was going to visit them, can I go with? Please?” Sera smiled at you.

Sera nodded. “If you want to oversee the garden you may.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank You!!”

“Go get ready, it’s quite muddy down there so you should probably change out of your white clothes!”

It was so green down there. “Hi! I’m (Y/n). Sera made me.”

“Who’s Sera?” A beautiful girl with dark brown hair and tan skin asked. She had big brown eyes and was of shorter stature.

“Doesn’t matter right now. Who are you?” You said with curiosity. A taller man wrapped his arms around the woman.

“Back off! I already had one angel steal my first wife. I’m not letting Eve slip away so easily.”

“Yes that’s actually what we came to talk about.” Raphael had said.

////////////////////////////////////////

After explaining what had happened with Lucifer to the humans Raphael had left. Eve wandered off halfway through the story leaving you with Adam.

“So…” he started, leaning back on his hands.

“I have so many things I want to ask you! First off, what was Lilith like?” You sat next to him, your knees against your chest.

“Prideful and lazy. I told her over and over again that we needed to grow food for keep the lions from killing the lambs but all she wanted to do was lounge on the beach.”

“Next question. What’s life like down here?”

“It’s… great actually. Other than the slight of having Lilith taken. Eve’s just fantastic though, she listens to everything I ask of her. I always got the feeling that Lilith hated being made for me and she wanted to be her own person. So her leaving is whatever. I wouldn’t want to be told that my only purpose was to be made for someone else’s sake.”

“I was made for someone else and I was fine with it.”

“I feel like Eve’s like that. She was made from my rib ya know. I let her do whatever she wants when she feels like it so she doesn’t get suffocated and leave me too. I love her so fucking much. Trust me, when she gets back I’ll ask her to tell you about all her favorite fruits. You’ll love her as much as I do.”

“What is freedom like? What is it like to live for yourself? You and Eve get to don’t you?”

“Yeah. We still have our duties in the garden but she’s always so excited to help. Do you not have freedom?”

“Not particularly. Sera keeps me pretty busy. I live her her rules, her will alone.”

“Was she the one who you were made for?”

You look away bashfully. “No, I was made for Lucifer so he could stop obsessing over Lilith.”

“Well, thanks for failing. I wouldn’t have Eve if he gave up on Lilith.”

“That actually makes me feel a little better.”

“Hey are you always so obedient to that Sera chick?”

“I have to be. She created me and I must honor her rules and orders above all else.”

“You seem tense. How many rules do you have?”

“Too many to count.”

“We only have one rule here.”

“Don’t eat the apple from the forbidden tree.” You and him say in unison.

“I know.” You look away. “Adam. Promise me one thing.” You look back at him with a desperate look in your eyes. “No matter what you do you have to follow that one rule okay? No matter if you’re starving, no matter if Eve is being threatened. You can never break that rule. Not even if Eve does. Tell her too, okay. Not if she’s starving. Not if you’re being threatened. I already lost my purpose in life because the man I was made for broke the rules and got kicked out. Promise me that you will never break this one simple rule.”

“Okay! Geez, you’re kinda dramatic. I’ll go tell Eve.” He stood up and walked away.

“You’re purpose in life huh? Don’t be so dramatic!” A voice from behind you called out.

“You can’t be here! HE forbid it.”

“HE can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

“HE still loves you. Just apologize for what you did and we can go home.”

“I’m never going back. And I’m never going to be with you! So just take your disgusting SELF AND GO AWAY!!”

“Am I not good enough?”

“NO!!”

“Adam!?” You called out to him surprised at his sudden outburst.

“Eve!” Lucifer shouted worriedly as you both rushed to where the cry came from.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!! (Y/N)!! HELP!! We can fix this… WE CAN FIX THIS RIGHT??!!”

“What happened?” You asked trying to calm Adam down.

“I’m sorry. They said I didn’t know what I was doing. They said I was ignorant. I was. I was so stupid.”

“…What did you do Lucifer?”

“I showed her the truth. The truth that all of you were trying to hide.” He smirked triumphantly. However his smile faded as lightning struck behind him. The winds picked up. The sky darkened with rain clouds rolling in.

“Eve just apologize. Just say you made a mistake. HE is very forgiving. Please.”

“But it’s their fault! They tricked me! I’m not the one to blame! It was them! It was him!” She tried to reason.

“No no no! Just apologize! Eve just apologize! You won’t be in trouble. Just own up to your mistakes and ask for forgiveness!” You tried to persuade.

“Eve just do it!” Adam demanded.

“You eat it. We can do this together.” She pleaded.

“I… I can’t.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a stupid apple. Now she can be more informed about her own life.” Lucifer shouted.

“it was their one rule! Why couldn’t you just mind your own FUCKING business!” You shouted at him. “I wasn’t good enough so you had to have Lilith! I thought maybe, just maybe, now that he’s happy I could move on! I was ecstatic when I saw them! I thought overseeing them would bring me a sense of purpose! But no! You had to mess that up for me too!”

“Do you honestly think that I give a shit about you?! That for one moment I thought about YOU!?” Lucifer laughed in your face. “That’s utterly pathetic!! YOU’RE pathetic!!”

“You shut up! They’re great! They’re kind and they actually want to protect us!!” Adam yelled as he held Eve.

No matter what kind word he said, Lucifer’s words stung like nothing else. Tears flowed from your eyes.

“You know what? Fuck you Lucifer!” You shouted and ran away.

////////////////////////////////////////

You hadn’t thought about that for nearly 5 decades. Then a certain brunette walked up behind Sera. He was rounder and dressed in white and gold robes. “Little darling. I’d like you to meet Adam, the first man.”

“We’ve met. Hi!” You waved.

“Hey teeny.” He smiled.

“Hey! I’m not short! You grew since the last time I saw you! I wasn’t this small when I-” You cut yourself off.

“When we first met, I know.” He smiled softly. But his smile drop as he spoke next. “She’s gone. He succeeded in taking her away from me. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Adam, I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

“Hey. I’m here because of you. You saved me. You tried to save her.” He cut you off and wrapped you in a hug. “Sorry. I just need this.”

“Take as long as you need.” You hugged him back.

////////////////////////////////////////

“Ugh! Those dumb fucking whores!” Adam shouted.

“What’s wrong now?” You groaned. Adam had gotten an attitude after he made it into Heaven.

“It’s that short fucking clown and the whore he left you for! Those skanks had a baby! She was such a lazy prude when she was with me but apparently she couldn’t keep her fucking legs closed and put out for that ugly little shit!”

“Hypocrite. You‘ve been having sex with pretty much anything that moves.”

“Okay but the difference is that I actually populated the earth like I was suppose to. She was created to be the mother of all humans yet she goes off and makes hell-spawn instead.”

“Are you feeling insecure?” You teased.

“No! Fuck you, bitch!” You giggled as he pouted.

“Hey! I just had an idea how we can get back at them.”

“How?”

“We get married.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He blushed. “We can’t do that!”

“Why not? If you’re not into me or you don’t want to give up sleeping around then you can just say so. But it would say to the brat downstairs that he isn’t the only one who can swoop in and steal away someone else’s lady. And it would prove to our Ex that we aren’t still thinking about each other.”

“But we are.”

“They don’t have to know that.”

“If we do this you’re taking my awesome dick every night.”

“Deal, you big horny crybaby.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

The news of the spur wedding rocked the pearly gates and all seven rings of Hell. All except the palace of the pride ring. They all couldn’t care less.

////////////////////////////////////////

It’s been a few months since you two got married. You sat brushing your husbands wings.

“Hey babe?” He turned to you slightly.

“Yes?”

“…do you think that I’m a good person?”

“Why do you ask?”

“…I feel like everyone always pities me because of my exes. They always say how I’m so good for listening. Does that make me a good person?”

“Sometimes you can be a bit misogynistic.”

“You get paid more than me! Why do I always have to pay for supper!?”

“Because you barely ever let me choose where we eat.” You tease.

“Spicy food makes me sick! I don’t want to be stuck on the toilet for three hours just because of your freakishly high tolerance.” He pouts.

“It’s also gentlemanly to pay. Besides you insist on getting burritos from that one place twice a month. …why do you ask anyway?”

“Sera’s got this dumb idea. It’s got me thinking about what makes a good person.”

“I wouldn’t know, I was created to follow rules. If I didn’t, I’d fall like Lucifer.”

“We had one rule. Then everything changed when Kane killed Able. I don’t even know if I’m a good person.”

“I think killing is back, harming children is also bad, sexual abuse is also bad. All these things are very purposeful though. People like that don’t change, but you changed. You used to sleep around and now you’re committed to me and you seem much happier.

“Can sinners change?”

“Not all obviously, but if they wanted to maybe.”

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too baby.” When he walks in I am loved… I am loved.

[avonne-writes]

omg for the prompts hs au and "— “can i hold your hand? is that weird to ask?”" would be TOO cute

Thank you so much for the prompt! 💖 Just a short drabble this time, but I hope it will bring us all a little positivity. Giggly 15-year-olds galore! I might post this on AO3 later.

Edit: posted on AO3

An upbeat pop song echoes through the cavernous hall of the supermarket as Gale follows Bucky from aisle to aisle. For a Saturday morning, it’s rather busy, but Gale doesn’t mind. It gives him an excuse to walk closer to Bucky and let their arms brush sometimes, their thick coats catching on each other. If only it wasn’t the middle of winter! Then, maybe, he would've been able to touch Bucky's skin too. He probably runs hot, Gale imagines. Would his skin be really soft? What would it taste like if Gale kissed it? What would it smell like?

Technically, this is their third date. Although Gale isn’t quite sure if shopping for snacks together is a date, it's just the two of them and he’s having fun, so he’s going to count it. And who knows, maybe Bucky means to ask him to come over after this? Or they could just go hang out at the mall again, where they first kissed. It’s still hard to believe that it happened. Only a week ago, and yet it feels as though Gale's entire world shifted on its axis. He has a boyfriend now!

A boyfriend who's sweet and kind and funny like he always hoped for. Someone who likes spending time with him and talking to him, and who cares what he thinks about stuff, unlike his parents. The fact that Bucky is so cute to boot blows Gale's mind every day. In the past seven days, he found himself daydreaming several times a day, thinking about all the kisses they've shared - eight now! - and wanting to pinch himself. It’s almost too good to be true.

"Check this out." Bucky snickers suddenly and stops by a random shelf piled with cheap, weird hats. He pulls one out of the pile and puts it on, covering his lovely brown curls with a green beanie - a beanie that, apparently, has a knit beard attachment. Bright orange.

"Handsome." Gale giggles. Bucky's blue eyes twinkle with joy when they meet his. He can feel his face heat up, but he can’t stop smiling, even as Bucky steals Gale's very normal and boring beanie, ruffles his messy blond hair and tries to put a beard beanie on him too.

"Come on, Buck, try it on."

"No, thank you!" Gale protests through a laugh, pushing Bucky's hands away and scuffling with him playfully until a man passing by gives them a dirty look. It hits Gale like a blast of icy wind. Makes something inside him clench tight. Whenever an older man disapproves of him, he feels like he wants to disappear.

Bucky seems to sense the shift in Gale's mood because he tosses the ridiculous hats back on the shelf and rubs the back of his neck.

"Sorry." He says awkwardly. His ears and the pale skin of his cheeks turn bright red.

"No, it’s -" Gale bites his lip, unsure how to say he kinda looked like my dad. He ends up tilting his head and giving Bucky a tentative, lopsided smile. "You said you wanted Skittles?"

"Right! Can’t forget the Skittles." Bucky grins at him in a burst of blinding joy. He skips forward, turning to walk backwards for a moment, with Gale's beanie still captive in his hand. "Favourite flavor?"

Gale rolls his eyes as he follows him. "They all taste the same."

Bucky stops and lets Gale walk close enough to him that their coats almost brush, this time face to face. He and Gale are almost the same height, so all it would take Gale to kiss him is to tilt his chin forward. But he’s not brave enough to do that just yet, so he just watches Bucky's eyes until he can’t keep a straight face anymore and bursts into a quiet laugh.

Grinning, Bucky holds up Gale's beanie and presses it to Gale's chest. "You can get it back if you tell me the answer."

Gale looks away to the side, then up at the ceiling before he finally finds the self-control to return his gaze to Bucky's. He has been smiling so much that his cheeks are starting to hurt. "Green." He says eventually.

Bucky's smile widens, his eyes crinkling. Instead of giving Gale the hat like Gale expects, he puts it on Gale’s head himself, then slips his hands down to Gale's burning cheeks. Before either of them can really think it through, he swoops in and presses a quick peck to Gale's lips.

Nine, Gale's mind sings giddily as Bucky pulls away and starts walking again.

Something about the way Bucky has just kissed him in public without hesitation makes Gale want to be brave too. He falls into step next to Bucky and moves his shaky fingers until they touch Bucky's own.

"Can I hold your hand?" He asks through the rush of excitement, then cringes immediately. What is he, five? Fuck, he should have just gone for it, shouldn't he? Now it's all awkward. Did he mess it all up? He glances up at Bucky’s surprised face. "Is that weird to ask?"

Bucky blinks, then laughs. It's not like his usual mischievous chuckle or the horse laughs he and Curt share sometimes - this is a quick exhale of joy, pure and child-like. He grabs Gale's hand with his own, holds it in his warm grip and swings their linked hands between them as they keep walking.

"No, it’s not weird." He squeezes Gale's fingers. Gale can already feel the dampness of sweat gathering between their palms, but he doesn’t care. The supermarket might as well be heaven for how he feels. "You don’t have to ask though."

He gives Gale a glance from the corner of his eye. "I'm your boyfriend after all."

"True." Gale smiles at his boots. There are so many butterflies in his stomach that if he wasn’t holding Bucky's hand, he might float away. "What’s your favourite Skittle flavor?"

"Red." Bucky replies immediately. His thumb starts play-fighting with Gale's. "I think it’s strawberry... The sweeter, the better, you know?"

Gale nods. When Bucky winks at him, it’s like flying.

[pedriscroquettes]

Can you do a thot where the reader is gavis gf and her, Gavi and Fermin have a threesome? ❤️❤️

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐋𝐎𝐒 – GAVI & FERMÍN LÓPEZ

warnings. heavy nsfw 18+ themes, ruining friendships, dom!gavi, & sub!fermín.

a/n. finally did one of these again and was very self indulgent writing it lmao.

• gavi and fermín were as thick as thieves always together never apart. except when it came to you. there was always a sudden silence and tension whenever you talked to the two of them.

• it was obvious they both liked you from the beginning but gavi always acted first. he always got what he wanted and the moment he saw you he needed you. he couldn’t lose you. losing was never an option to him.

• so, it wasn’t a surprise when gavi brought up the idea first. after all it was obvious fermín was dying for an opportunity with you. you noticed it too especially when you locked eyes with him while gavi left love bites on your neck during parties.

• you weren’t too opposed to the idea as fermín was definitely good looking but it took you a while to get on board with the concept because you didn’t want to lead him on.

• “nada más una vez.” gavi assured you it wouldn’t happen again. (just one time.) “no se…” you were still hesitant. (i don’t know…) “sabes que lo quieres.” he whispered into your ear as the two of you watched fermín train. (you know you want it.)

• ultimately it’s fermín’s biceps and the view he gives you while training shirtless that convince you. you know it’s a bad idea but the hot feeling forming in your body is too much. you need to cool off.

• gavi watches intently as you straddle fermín’s lap and he almost laughs at the way his teammate’s eyes go wide. but then you kiss fermín so gently and slowly and his jaw slacks. you’re so damn seductive.

• you haven’t even touched fermín yet and he’s already hard under you. it’s almost hard to ignore as you place kisses on his neck. you turn around and face your boyfriend who’s already looking intently at you. you look down and see your boyfriend is just as hard causing you to chuckle a bit before proceeding to suck on fermín’s skin.

• the dirty blonde gains a sudden edge of control when he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail bringing you into a dominant kiss as if to threaten to gavi. but your boyfriend only smirks not intimidated by his friend in any way.

• when your hand finally reaches into fermín’s shorts he can’t help the sinful groan that slips past his lips. your spit and his precum mix as you rub up and down on his shaft.

• gavi can’t take it anymore he needs some sort of pleasure that isn’t coming from his hand. you quickly find yourself on all fours as gavi stands in front of your face admiring you. his thumb brushes alongside your cheek and you can’t help but open your mouth allowing you to suck on his fingers.

• it’s fermín’s turn to watch now as you spit onto your hand and rub gavi’s member. his shorts seem to get tighter the longer he looks at the scene in front of him. your gags turn him on even more than he can believe.

• the three of you are sweating the hotness of the room almost suffocating you as you take gavi into your mouth. you’ve never gotten used to his size and always find yourself clawing at his knees as he repeatedly hits the back of your throat.

• finally as he releases inside you he grabs you by the jaw meeting you in a passionate kiss. he can still taste himself on your tongue. his chain swinging against your chest sending you shivers down your spine at the coldness of the material.

• fermín’s chain soon replaced gavi’s as the barcelona b player climbs on top of you. his brown eyes boring into yours letting you know how much he wants this.

• “a ella no le gustan los amables.” gavi smirks. (she doesn’t like nice guys.)

• fermín listens. he has you tugging on his hair and moaning loudly as he moves his tongue against your folds. he takes his time to rile you up making sure you’re wet enough for him. he also asks you if everything’s okay because despite everything he still cares for you in a romantical way.

• he grabs your face to force you to look at him as he slides inside you. the moment being too intimate for gavi’s pleasure but he doesn’t say anything he wants to see it play out.

• his thrust are erratic but paced. you can tell he wants to enjoy the moment while also giving you the pleasure you deserve. he leans in giving you small quick kisses which get interrupted by your moans and his groans.

• his pelvis and abdomen is full of marks from your nails. the sound of skin slapping against skin and your slick mixing with his precum fills the room and the air. somehow you make a mental note to clean your room tomorrow morning.

• when both you and gavi give him the green light he releases inside you panting as he reaches his high. although, he knows this won’t happen again he admires you and your body taking you in. he falls on your chest as he recovers from his high and your natural instinct is to run your hands through his hair.

• gavi doesn’t say anything but you can tell he’s pissed regretting his decision. he knows his best friend and he knows that this will only make him want you more. he can’t lose you. he won’t let fermín win.