#Forgot how to draw bodies past the shoulders

[crowrrupt]

Our favourite bi farmer, how it totally went in game

[demaparbat-hp]

On your most recent From the Couch post... is that a dragon tattoo I see poking out of Zuko's collar? ...................may we see more of it?

You may see all of it.

[sluttywoozi]

Jihoon lazy morning sex

You wake up entangled with each other from last night and what started out as innocent good morning kisses turns into his tongue in your mouth.

Gentle massages to your hips where he gripped you so hard you had faint bruising. Those turn into feeling you up and a tiredly groaned out. "Fuck, still so wet for me?"

That's all I've got. My brain is mush now

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.2k

Warnings: lil bit of fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, bruises from night before felt but not seen, cockwarming

AN: in my head, this is the somewhere in the middle couple but you don't have to read that to read this (you should read that tho i think it's my fav work of mine, for jihoon at least)

Warmth is the first thing you register as you start to awaken. The warmth of the early morning sun streaming in through the curtains you forgot to close, the warmth of the duvet that covers your naked body, the warmth of an arm curled around your shoulders and a chest beneath your head, the heart inside of it beating steadily. 

The chest vibrates, a low, satisfied hum filling your ears as Jihoon stirs. His arm tightens around you, his other hand taking hold of your waist and shifting you over until you rest fully on top of him in a straddle. Still sleepy, you lift your head and stare at him, watching as he blinks his eyes halfway open and smiles softly at you before puckering his lips. 

Taking that for the request you know it to be, you inch up until you can press your mouth to his in a good morning kiss. It’s gentle, chaste, as are the three others you share immediately after. The next, however, is decidedly the opposite, his hand leaving your waist to cup your jaw and pull it down as his tongue slides between your lips. 

The arm wrapped around your shoulders moves, his touch going first to the back of your neck where he squeezes gently before dragging his hand down the length of your spine, ending with his fingers gripping the flesh of your hip. The tips dig in, finding bruises you didn’t know he gave you, making you whimper into his mouth and reach down to cover his hand with yours. 

“Sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, immediately gentling his grasp and instead massaging at the fat of your hip with soothing fingers. He pets your soft skin, his hand inevitably meandering to your ass where he caresses and kneads before tugging the cheek to the side to open you up. 

You gasp at the feeling, knowing what his destination is but not knowing how he’ll get there. His touch leaves your face, drifting down your body to skim between your legs, his fingers gliding when he drags them through your folds. 

“Fuck, still so wet for me?” He groans raspily, exhaustion and lust evident in his voice. 

“I‘m always wet for you, Jihoon,” you mumble back, long past denying it to him or to yourself.

“God, you get me hard so fuckin’ fast,” he shakes his head, dipping two of his fingers into your entrance as you feel his cock twitch beneath you. It’s stuck between your body and his, and if you could just get your hips up, you’d be able to sink down and let him fill you and then you wouldn’t feel empty like you do. 

“I want you inside of me, please,” you beg before he decides to draw this out, well aware that if he gets it in his head to eat you out and/or fuck you with his fingers first, it’ll be an hour or more of sweet, terrible torture. 

You don’t think you can wait that long, not when he’s hot and hard and leaking against you. 

“I should stretch you out,” he says, sliding his fingers in as far as they go and scissoring them to push apart your walls. 

“You fucked me less than twelve hours ago, I can take you now, I promise,” you plead quietly, consciously relaxing so he can feel for himself just how pliable you are. He moans like he can feel the difference, and maybe he can because he pulls his fingers out and returns his hands to your hips, grasping carefully this time. 

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, holding you up so you can reach down and align his cock with your opening, groaning in unison with you as your pussy swallows him inch by inch. 

He always makes you feel so full, so whole, so complete, and sometimes, it’s enough to bring tears to your eyes. He knows you, though, knows you’re a bit of a cry baby so he doesn’t get concerned, just wraps one arm around your waist to hold you flush to his chest and fills the other hand with your ass cheek to help you move, his fingers digging in harshly. 

You won’t mind having more sore spots later, not when they’re all evidence of him fucking you. 

That’s what this is, even with you on top. You’re still not in control of anything, not the pace, not the intensity, not the depth, but that’s how you like it. You like that all you have to do is listen and be good, and he’ll take care of you like you know you deserve. 

On the next roll of your hips, he thrusts up into you, hitting so deep, you swear you can feel him in your guts. It makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, your nails clawing at his chest when he does it again. His abs tense against your stomach as he holds you in place and starts bucking into you, the rhythm of his hips almost lazy but the force behind them fierce. 

He fucks you into some sort of trance, the wicked push of his hips and pull of his hands hypnotic, especially with how tired you still are from last night. You think you could even fall asleep like this if it didn’t feel so damn good, his cock dragging against every sweet spot you have as he slides in and out of you. 

Your fatigue makes you even more susceptible to the pleasure, and when he works a hand between your hips and his and sets his fingertips on your clit, you know it’s over. He doesn’t even have to move his fingers, the rocking of your bodies providing enough stimulation that you’re already whining, already fluttering around him, already right there on the edge. 

Jihoon can’t last in the mornings either, and you’re sure that as soon as you start to cum, he’ll follow you. It almost makes you want to hold out just so you can feel this bliss for a bit longer, but there’s also the option of breaking now, going back to sleep, and waking up to do it all over again. 

You like that option, love it, in fact, so it’s easy to let the building wave of euphoria wash over you, a sharp gasp escaping your parted lips as your pussy ripples and squeezes around him. Just like you suspected he would, he groans raggedly and buries his face in your neck, his cock jumping against your walls as his cum spurts inside of you, filling you up to the brim. 

The come down is slow, with syrupy sweet kisses and affectionate words being dreamily exchanged, bringing you closer and closer to slumber. 

“Do you want to get up?” He asks quietly, grinning when you sleepily pout and answer, “No.”

“Good, me neither. Let’s just stay like this.” 

“Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

[eddie4bat-president]

Saw a drawing of Steve and now I'm suddenly thinking about artist Eddie who designed the Hellfire shirts and Corroded Coffin fliers and who draws the villains of his D&D campaigns to slap onto his DM screen for visual aid and doodles in class and-

And i'm thinking about Steve, in a relationship with Nancy, trying to ignore that things are rocky but knowing it all the same. He finds a notebook left behind in school and he only takes it because he forgot his own. He plans to use it for the day and then figure out whose it is and get it back to them in exchange, that's probably more than fair, right? And the person is really gonna want this back - it looks like half their life is contained in this thing; there is... a shit ton of loose paper stuffed between the pages and notes on all kinds of subjects and drawings and.... he doesn't even know what that is. Who is Vecna and what the hell is a... lich?

Anyway as he leafs through it he finds that some of the drawings are... actually really good. Like, absurdly good for being in a lined notebook that looks like it has taken a trip into a dumpster and picked up some debris on the way out.

Like! Those hands! Steve has no artistic bone in his body but he's heard people whine about drawing hands and - he looks at the hand not holding the book and back again - yeah, that's exactly what hands look like! And here - a few pages further (it's one of the most empty pages of the whole thing, mostly because this one seems to have started as a drawing and not as a page of notes that turned into a drawing) there are only a few lines on the page but it's still very clearly the back of someone's neck, the collar, one shoulder.... Then there's another one that is almost all lines, but they were all carefully placed to give the effect of perfectly windswept hair. Then there's one that he actually can't make sense of at first (he almost pages past it because it is just a few lines and dots taking up a quarter of a page of very annoyed... history notes? Maybe English.) It's just a jawline with some moles but... only the day before he had cut himself shaving a finger's width underneath those exact moles. And that's when it clicks. He goes back to the hair... yeah that- that could be him too. Maybe. He flips back to that one very detailed drawing of hands and... putting down the book he tries to get his hands into the same position - the angle is off but. Yeah. That's why they looked so perfectly...! Uhhhh... Handsy! Because they're his fucking hands!

Anyway Steve realizes that about a third of the drawings are or could be him. He realizes that he actually can't go through with giving it back because - what would he even say? "Hey found your notebook, nice shrine to me?" Yeah no. But he's... also reluctant to take it to the Lost and Found. There's something in the handwriting.... He has a feeling that it might not be a girl secretly drawing him. What if someone else connects the dots? What if they confront the mystery artist about it? Flashbacks to his fight with Jonathan, the line he crossed and immediately regretted. He doesn't want to be the cause for someone else getting called that. And unrelated to that, things with Nancy aren't great right now and it's... it's just nice to think someone is paying attention, alright?

Then Halloween happens a few days after. The Break-up(?), the demodogs, Billy and the tunnels- and afterwards it's nice to have the notebook to distract him from the pain. The mundane mystery of a schoolmate maybe having a crush on him. He might not even have to confront them - he can just figure out a way to slip it into their locker; it looks like at least half their schoolwork is crammed into this thing, no matter how half-heartedly done. They definitely want this back.

Man, I wish I could actually write this thing. Damn. Maybe I could even do a scene where Steve tries to Sherlock Holmes his way to Mystery Artist and confronts a (hatefully seething) Robin, because she sits behind him in that one class, only to find his own Watson in her instead. But alas. It cannot be.

[oceantornadoo]

part three outlaw!simon x f!reader who was supposed to marry johnny 🥲

simon is about to cause a scandal and get you kicked out of this town on account of adultery.

you told him he could visit you on your saloon shift, see what the town’s like. what you did not tell him is that everyone thinks you have a fine upstanding citizen for a husband, not an outlaw covered in black head-to-toe. he’s been nursing a whiskey for the past hour, haunting the last barstool in a corner, angled perfectly with his back to the wall.

he touches you everytime you pass him. a guiding hand on your waist when you saunter by with a tray of drinks. tucking your hair back into your updo as you become increasingly frazzled with a busy saturday night. even tightening the ties of your apron one time while you were talking to a customer, their eyes bugging out at the sight.

it would be fine if the public knew he was your husband - but johnny’s ring lays tucked into your nightstand and on account of simon’s gloves, you look like a cheater. an adulteress, committing sin in an already sinful establishment. you can see the church ladies signing the cross, see your neighbors muttering under their breath. it all comes to a head when the town rake decides to engage this shadowy figure of confusion that everyone is wondering about.

“does doin’ all that finally mean she’s out from her husband?” he introduced himself to simon, some forgettable name, and simon’s already wishing for the solitude of the mountains and grassy plains again. “wot?” the stranger’s so close simon can smell the liquor on his breath, can see the unsteadiness of his stature. he nods to you, taking orders in the corner of the saloon. “she’s not wearin’ her ring and your hands are on her, so that mean she’s outta that marriage? never even saw the man, guessed ‘e stepped out on ‘er.” simon couldn’t explain the situation to him, the stranger’s brain so stupidly drunk he couldn’t comprehend. so, the course of action was exactly that; action.

you were turning around, ready to holler at the singular cook in the saloon’s kitchen, when two meaty paws yanked into a body. you immediately resisted, too used to fighting the world at every turn, before you heard his voice. “just me, darlin’. settle down.” you hated how you immediately relaxed, shoulders drooping. simon yanked you into his side, eyes not on you but some man at the bar. “simon, you’re makin’ a scene.” he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow while the rest of his face moved under his bandana. “you’d rather a scandal?” so he did understand what was going on. you shook your head vehemently, intrigued at his next move. he unfurled one of your hands on his chest, the left one, turning it so the saloon could see your bare ring finger. the crowd suddenly silenced, understanding something important was happening.

simon’s gloved hand slipped into his pocket, drawing out a cloth bag. from it he brought out a ring, something with a pretty diamond and a vintage look. you gasped at the sight, of the thought he was giving you a ring with history, not just one from the jeweler’s. gold was well known in the west, the lifeblood of new towns, but the design showed elegance and class, not just new money. he slipped it on your bare finger, pulling you in for a light kiss over his bandana. you couldn’t even reciprocate, too stunned at the publicity of his claim. you heard someone whoop and that was it, your crowd turning back to a better piece of gossip now that this was solved. “y’r not gettin’ pushed out of town on my account, love.” you nodded wordlessly, eyes darting to the heavy weight on your hand. “go’on and get me another whiskey, hm?” he sent you to the bar-top with a pat on the ass, and that was that.

—

a little fluff for yall

this is my outlaw simon in a song.

taglist (lmk if i forgot you or you want to be added!):

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

@sinful-tawtute

@nightingale2124

@scottpilgrimvsmyfists

@saucypeanuttt

@kylies-love-letter

@livvrosesblog

@livingoutsidethetardis

[hanasnx]

" GIVE ME THE SWEETEST GOODBYE THAT I EVER DID RECEIVE " — peter parker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: takes place during the events of the marvel's spider-man 2 game. WARNINGS: fem reader | established relationship | morning sex mention | mild exhibitionism | sex against a window.

"You forgot your lunch again." are words PETER PARKER has heard too many times. He spins in place, disengaging from his work to face you, his girlfriend, who so graciously conquered his paper bagged lunch and retrieved it for him like his knight-in-shining-armor.

"Knew I was forgetting something." he murmurs, receiving the sack from you and stealing a greeting kiss from your lips in the same motion.

"Yeah, you left in kind of a hurry this morning." you reply with an impish grin tugging at your lips, leaning your palms at the edge of his desk. You meet his eyes over your shoulder, noting his knowing smile.

He approaches you from behind, lowering his voice to speak in your ear. "Well, that's because someone wouldn't let me." The lunch crinkles as he sets it down, and he hesitates to return to his work when you're here clearly vying for some attention, bringing up this morning of all things...

"Oh, right, because it was all me." you retort sarcastically, breaking exchange of a look to spy on his monitor. You've got a good head on your shoulders, but the stuff Pete does has you at a loss. It's gibberish written across his screen that he no doubt understands and could teach a class on. The thought of his competency drifts your mind elsewhere to the more alluring traits he took on before he left for work. How curious his hands were traversing your body after waking up next to you, kneading your bare form under covers, tucking himself behind you with his morning wood until that confidence bought him some sleepy sex. You heat up, and bite your lip at the memory.

You snap out of your trance, and make more conversation before you excuse yourself so he can get back to work. "Where is everybody?" you ask, voicing your observation. Since you got in, you haven't seen anybody.

Peter pours some coffee into a paper cup, fixing it up how you like it. Steam rises past the rim as he stirs it, and he draws his hand up to suck some sweetness off of his index finger. Your chest jumps, the residual recollection of what it's like to be filled stings your insides. Shifting your weight from leg to leg gives you the subtlest of frictions, and you try to conceal your growing interest by averting your eyes. He brings you the warm cup, handing it to you gently as he looks out through the glass of his office to the lobby. "Harry gave them the rest of the day off. It was in preparation for some repairs—" He glances at you during his explanation, and when you flash a questioning expression, he clarifies. "—er, for the particle accelerator. Apparently, there was some mistake with scheduling so Harry's out trying to get it sorted. I figured I should at least get something done while I'm here waiting it out."

You enter in a well-timed joke. "You should do me." Peter eyes you thoughtfully.

It was not a joke, and it was excellently timed.

"Did you know I've always wanted to fuck in your—mm—office?" you ask, panting while he yanks you back on his dick. Pressed up against the window that overlooks the lobby, your breath fogs it up. Your hands brace flat against it, its temperature cooling your heated skin, indenting your perked nips.

Peter's chuckle through his nose sounds behind you, and it widens your intoxicated grin. "S'not just mine, baby. What's he gonna say when he sees your tit-prints all over the glass?" Some of the stuff Peter says really gets you, his words shooting straight through you as his dirty talk often does. You moan in response, sucking a breath through your teeth right after, biting your lip hard as he plows your pussy. His steady hands on your hips make sure you can't recoil too much and run away too far, he keeps you right where he wants you so easy.

"We could've kept more clothes on, Pete." you gasp, your tone reminiscent of admonishment even though you loved how he flicked your shirt up to squeeze your tits between the window and your body. Knowing him, he'd been waiting to do that since you walked in.

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"You sound like you wanna get caught."

"You think I haven't thought about showing you off?"

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kinktober: ghostface

words: 6.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, f masturbation, death/killing, blood, knives, f receiving oral, attempted rape (from not rafe), noncon/dubcon, p in v sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv

"why do you keep looking at your phone, y/n?" your best friend, jennifer, asks, leaning over to look at the screen but you quickly click it off, setting it face down on the table.

"it's nothing." you shake your head. "ive just been getting some texts from an unknown number."

"what do they say?" your friend asks, and then presses further when you keep your mouth tightly closed, "are they creepy?"

"a bit…" you shrug.

"do you know who it is?" 

"clearly not!" you snap, the text messages have put you on such an edge. you don't mean to lash out on your friend, but you just can't help it. "sorry." you sigh, letting your head drop into your hands, rubbing your eyes with the pads of your fingers.

"y/n…" she sighs "i can tell how worked up you are, maybe just block the number?"

"yeah, maybe." you mumble, but you know that you're lying to her. it's too intoxicating, the obsessive attention that the anonymous texter gives you.

your phone dings and you jump, quickly picking it back up. you see something unexpected: a photo of yourself, sitting across the table from your friend, clearly taken just moments before it was sent, of course by the same unknown number. your head snaps up, scanning the tables on the other side of the restaurant, but there's so many faces you recognize along with this being the most popular lunch spot for college students attending your university.

"what is it?" jennifer asks. you almost forgot she was sitting across from you, attention solely on the mysterious texter. "y/n, is it the same number?"

"no." you shake your head, giving another glance around the restaurant. "just my ex boyfriend."

--

you look beautiful tonight. you read the text, speeding up your walk. you still aren’t replying, thinking it was best to let whoever was on the other end talk themselves bored, but they’ve continued with no response over the past week, showing no sign of letting up now.

are you scared? you pause briefly and look around. there’s no one that you can see. you turn up your pace into a light jog, regretting being out at night but needing to get from your evening class back to your apartment just off campus.

it would be a shame if someone took you right now. your heart is beating faster than ever as you break out into a full sprint, eyes blurring slightly with tears until you get to your apartment door, unlocking it quickly with shaking hands. you’re not sure you could hear someone walking up behind you with how loud your breathing is.

you rush in as soon as the door is unlocked, latching it behind you and then proceeding to draw all the curtains in the house. you run upstairs to your bed, needing the comfort of being under the sheets and locked behind several doors.

sleep tight, princess.

--

“did you hear?” jennifer asks, bursting through your door the second it’s unlocked.

“hear what?” you ask, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, knowing you need to head out soon to get to class on time.

“oh my god, it’s a tragic. a girl got murdered last night on campus.” “what?” your movements halt, turning to look at the wide eyed expression on jennifers face. “who?” “i don’t know, they’re not saying yet. they found her hanging in a tree! i guess she was really bloody because whoever saw her said they couldn’t make out her face.” “ugh, that’s horrible!” you say, feeling a shiver run through your body. you were just walking alone at campus late at night.

“but there’s good news! classes are canceled for today and all evening classes are moved to online until future notice, probably until they find the killer.” you don’t know how to respond to that, but at knowing you don’t need to head to class you do feel a bit of relief, even if the emotion is quickly followed by guilt. you close and relock the door, even more cautious knowing that there is a murderer on the loose along with your mysterious texter.

you sit down on your couch, curling your knees up into your chest. “do you think it’s related to that kasia girl who got killed last year?” “i mean it has to be, right?” jennifer plops down next to you. “what are the odds of two girls being violently killed and-” “okay, stop.” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your legs to quell the chills.

--

did you hear?

you gulp receiving the text. there’s no way anyone on campus could have missed the news, it’s all that’s been circling over the past three days, and you have no doubt thats what your mysterious texter is referring to.

yes. you type back, hitting send before even realizing that you were supposed to not be communicating back.

so lucky it wasn’t you. after all, i saw you walking that night. but i didn’t choose you.

your eyes widen. what does he mean choose? did you kill that girl? you text back quickly, hesitating only a moment before sending it. 

yes. because i can’t kill you.

--

“and you say you have no idea who has been sending you these text messages, ma’am?” the man asks.

“no, they started out of nowhere, and i thought they were creepy but i didn’t think it was… if i thought it was the killer i would have brought it to you earlier.” the police detective nods, jotting down some notes. “and you give us permission to keep the phone as evidence?” “yes, god, i don’t want it.” you already jotted down your important contacts, and have plans to head right to the store after and buy a new phone, with a whole new number.

“okay miss… you do understand that if we find this to be just an elaborate prank that there will be serious punishment for wasting our time.” you sit back in your chair, shocked that the detective would even suggest that. “it’s not a prank. they’ve been texting me before the girl was even murdered, i don’t know how you expect me to have planned all that.” “hm.” the detective just hums in dismissal, setting the phone to the side of his desk. you assume he’s not even going to look into it further, but you’re glad to be rid of it.

--

“i can’t believe classes are still going on today. another body was just found last night!” jennifer says, smearing her fry in ketchup before sticking it in her mouth.

“he was found just off campus, i think that’s their reasoning.” you say, looking nervously around the university cafeteria. “not that i agree.”

“oh my god!” your other friend, stephanie, gasps, looking up from her phone. “it was scott moss!”

“the football player?” you ask, also pulling out your phone. you unlock it, still getting used to the slight differences from your old phone. you search his name, and true enough, the first article that pops up is that the second (or third? as the article questions) body to be found has been identified as scott moss. the first body got identified a few days ago, but you didn’t know the girl.

“this is fucking crazy.” jennifer says, reaching for another fry.

“this article says the police are saying that the knife used to kill the girl last year is the same one used on the two new victims!” stephanie reads out.

“holy fuck, do you think they’re gonna investigate rafe again?” jennifer asks, turning to look at you.

“rafe got cleared, right? i think it’s unfair to hold it over his head just because he got questioned by the police.” you say.

“please, we all know he only got released because of his rich daddy.” your phone buzzes, and you flick your eyes down to the screen, blood turning cold.

you didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?

--

“hey, rafe.” you mumble, sliding into the seat next to him, able to feel the nervous energy in the room.

“hey.” he says in return, eyes on the desk in front of you. it’s clear from the moment you walked in that people were purposefully sitting further away from him than normal in the large lecture hall. over the past year, the fact that rafe was ever questioned about the first murder was forgotten, pushed to the back burner by whatever new gossip was sweeping campus, but with the new killing spree, he was back on their radar.

“surprised you’re sitting next to me.” rafe says, hands gripping his pencil tightly.

you know people are bound to whisper about you next, but you want to show that you don’t believe rafe could do it. you’re not that close to him, but he was your lab partner last semester and you believe yourself to be able to tell when someone is a crazy serial killer or not.

“why wouldn’t i?” you question, giving rafe a small smile. “besides, who else am i gonna get notes off of for when the professor changes the slides too fast again?” --

 you lay in your bed, wishing you could just go to sleep, but you’re too alert, waiting for something to happen, a noise or movement, but it doesn’t come. you pick up your phone, scrolling through instagram until you get bored of your repetitive feed.

your finger hovers over an app. you shouldn’t, but you do. you click open the text message thread, with only a single, taunting message sent so far.

hello.

you watch the screen for a response, surprised when they immediately begin typing back. miss me?

you catch yourself before you laugh. why did you kill scott?

why do you care?

you sit and think for a moment. i guess i don’t. you feel ashamed, but there is no judgment coming from the person on the other end.

i saw you on campus today. i like your hair in braids. wear it like that tomorrow.

you set your phone down on the nightstand, turning the screen face down. your sleep is constantly interrupted, waking up at every sound you hear, so by the time you drag yourself out of bed in the morning, it feels like you’ve gotten barely an hour all together, but still, when you head into the bathroom to get ready, you brush your teeth and then part your hair directly down the middle, braiding each side neatly.

your phone pings from the bedroom and you rush back in to look at it.

ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS: all classes and campus activity has been suspended effective immediately. common areas will remain open during the day, and we strongly advise all students to travel in pairs. a lockdown will be put into effect starting at 9pm every night, where all students must remain in their dormitories. 

you head into the living room, clicking on the tv while typing out a text to jennifer. 

“yet another murder has shocked the university.” you look up from your phone to watch the news report. “after linking the recent two killings of college students with the murder of kasia walters just over a year ago, a third murder has occured just last night, and we have exclusive details, including, an eye witness.”

you sit down on the couch, forgetting about your half drafted text as the news coverage reveals another classmate killed, again out in the open, but this time someone from inside one of the dorms happened to be looking out there window and witnessed someone dressed in all black except for a white ghost mask stab the girl multiple times. 

they show the ghost mask, apparently a popular one that can be bought at tons of stores, already starting to brandish the serial killer with the nickname ‘ghostface.’

your phone buzzes in your hand. she had her hair in braids like yours.

is that why you killed her?

i killed her because i can’t kill you.

part of you wants to ask why, but a bigger part of you doesn’t want to know.

--

you find yourself with nothing to do all day except scroll through social media. you don’t even have assignments to work on with classes being canceled instead of just moved online.

you open all the curtains in your apartment to get some natural light in, but keep every door and window firmly latched. you know you should start some routine to keep you from going crazy and thinking about the murderer.

you move from the couch to your bed, because why sit when you can lay down. you sigh and open up tumblr, scrolling through your feed until you get to a smut of your favorite character. you bite your lip and open it.

as you read, your hand drifts lower, rubbing your pussy from over your clothes as the words on your screen turn you on. you let out a soft moan, thankful for the soundproof walls of your apartment, and the fact that the unit next to yours is currently empty.

no better way to let out some stress with a good masturbation session. you push your hand down under your pants and underwear, sighing when you get a touch at your bare skin, fingers finding your clit and stroking over it as your eyes continue to follow the fanfiction.

dirty girl.

you jump at the text, glancing around the room, eyes landing on the open window. you can’t see anyone through it, but apparently they can see you.

don’t stop on my account.

you feel more turned on than you should, continuing to slowly move your fingers underneath you sweatpants. 

take them off for me. let me see your pretty pussy.

your cunt clenches around nothing at the words. you’ve never dirty talked with a man before, and really you’re not, responding with your body instead of replying to the texts. you stand up off the bed, knowing you shouldn’t, but you push your pants down, quickly followed by your underwear. you lay back on the bed, angling yourself slightly towards your window.

there you go. touch yourself again for me.

you begin to stroke over your pussy again, circling your clit as you wait for another text.

i would bury my head between your legs. i bet you taste delicious.

you let out a moan, moving faster.

i would have you cumming around my cock.

have you ever had that before baby? or are you a virgin?

you would never admit it to any of your friends, but you find yourself using one hand to type out the singular word: virgin.

the reply takes too long to come, you’re growing frustrated as your clit pulses.

i’ll be your first. cum for me, princess.

you toss your head back on the bed, flicking over your clit until you can’t hold it back any longer, cumming with a series of loud moans, spreading your legs wide to give whoever is watching you a good view as you cum, pussy clenching around nothing, practically inviting him in to fuck you.

you feel the shame the second your orgasm subsides, snapping your legs closed, standing up and shutting the shade, blocking out any view of your bedroom from the outside.

--

“no seriously, don’t you think a party is like the worst idea right now?” “no!” jennifer laughs. “it’s perfect. a bunch of people, all together. so literally nothing bad can happen!” 

you’re reluctant to agree, but it’s too hard to say no to your best friend, so you cave and get ready with her in your bedroom, applying some light makeup before spending half an hour choosing the right outfit. as much as you don’t want to go, if you are gonna, you are at least gonna look good.

you arrive at the party just before sunset, of course taking place at a frat house. thankfully it’s only about a three minute walk from your apartment, so both you and jennifer could drink as much as you pleased without being worried about finding a ride back, you could practically see your front door.

“gonna get us some drinks!” jennifer yells over the pumping music, and you nod, trying to find a place to stand that doesn’t have someone bumping into you every second. there’s nothing like a murder spree to bring a college campus together as you see some very unlikely people to be at a frat party.

“here you go!” jennifer hands you a cup of clear liquid. you know better than to smell it before you shoot it down your throat, cringing at the burn when you pull the plastic cup away from your lips.

“that’s fucking disgusting!” 

“i know isn’t it great!” jennifer yells in laughter, and you can’t help but join in the infectious sound.

“lets dance!” you say, feeling the alcohol moving through your system. the whole house is practically a dance floor, but it’s centralized in the living room, so you push through the outliers until you’re in the center of the crowd, laughing and jumping with jennifer as you move to the beat.

“i’m gonna get another cup, do you want more?” jennifer asks, having to yell practically in your ear for you to hear her over the music.

you shake your head, happy to keep dancing with just the lightest buzz. while jennifer is away, no doubt struggling to push her petite frame through the crowd, you feel a pair of hands on your hips. you turn to see who is trying to dance with you, frowning when its brandon richmond. he tried to hit on you so many times last year you lost count, but you turned him down every time.

you pull out of his grasp and put a couple of bodies between yours between dancing again, but when you see brandon following you throughout the crowd, you duck away, heading down the back hallway and out the door to the patio. you breathe in the fresh air, surprised to see no one else back here taking advantage of the quiet, even though the thump of base is still loud. 

you lean against the fence of the balcony, looking out past the backyard, realizing you can see the back of your apartment buildings from here, including right into your bedroom window. a shutter runs down your back thinking about someone watching you through it, even though you tend to keep the curtains drawn shut.

“what’re you doing?” you hear a voice slur, causing you to jump, turning around quickly to see brandon standing in the doorway.

“just needed some fresh air.” you say, trying to pull the hem of your skirt down farther, regretting the outfit choice.

“i hope you weren’t trying to get away from me.” brandon says, and his words have you pausing to consider that he may be the mysterious texter, the killer. after all, he raged after you finally firmly told him no. he didn’t hurt you, but you were afraid he might.

“n-no.” you back away, but there’s nowhere to go except down the steps and into the grass, into the darkness of the tree lined fence, but you’re willing to risk whatever is in the shadows before you stay this close to brandon.

you turn and retreat down the steps, hoping he will give up and go back inside, but when you feel his hands on your waist you know he’s not giving up any time soon.

“stop!” you shout, feeling one hand move up and grip your breast tightly, squeezing so hard it hurts.

brandon turns you around in his grasp, leaning forward in a clear attempt to kiss you, when suddenly he stops, face going slack as he pitches forward, making you step out of his way so he falls on the grass instead of on you.

your eyes travel from his body, not moving, to where he previously stood. you take a step back before releasing a scream. it’s him, it’s ghostface, standing there with a bloodied knife in his hand.

he takes no interest in you as he bends over brandon, stabbing him again in the back, and that’s when you realize theres blood spurting out of him. on the third swing of the blade you finally realize you need to move, turning away and heading towards home. you run as fast as you can between the houses, keeping your eyes on your apartment, not wanting to know how closely he was following you.

you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you wonder briefly if it’s ghostface or if it’s jennifer asking where you disappeared to.

you reach your door, thankful for briefly being in track in middle school for your ability to run fast. your hands fumble with your key, letting out a curse when you drop it from your hands shaking too hard, feeling like you’re in a horror movie as you finally get it unlocked.

you go to swing the door shut behind you, but it doesn’t latch. you fearfully turn around, realizing that his hand stopped the door from closing.

“p-please, i-” you back away as he steps into your space, your home, what was supposed to be the one place you were safe. he closes the door behind him, and you shudder hearing the click of the lock.

you turn and run towards the kitchen, hearing his footfalls close behind as you round the island counter in any attempt to get away, taking a cookie tray from off the counter and tossing it behind you as you run. it gives you enough time to head into your room, locking the door behind you. 

you head immediately to the window, knowing your apartment is no longer safe. you open it up, thankful for once to live on the first floor. you try to pull yourself up and over, but it’s too high off the ground and you’re wasting precious time struggling. 

you grab your chair from your desk, pushing it under the window and climbing onto it. you get one leg over the ledge, when a hand grabs your thigh, pushing you back into the room and onto the floor.

you scream as ghostface catapults through your window, smashing the pane shut behind him. locked in. you turn onto your back, trying to inch away as he begins to rant.

“i told you i would not kill you!” he screams. “i told you yet you still run from me!” your brow furrows as you try to place the voice. it’s so familiar. 

“i killed that boy for trying to rape you, and your thanks is to scream and run?”

“rafe.” you let out a sigh in realization. 

ghostface takes the mask and pulls it off his head, revealing a face that has your heart breaking. no. there’s no way he could be the murderer. the stalker.

“please don’t hurt me.” you whimper, using your bedpost to help pull yourself up off the floor.

“i could never hurt you.” rafe steps closer, reaching out to you, his glove leaving a smear of cold wetness on your cheek as he gently rubs it, and it takes you a second to realize it’s blood. “even though i want to.” “wh-why do you want to hurt me?” you ask.

“i love you too much. it’s the same reason i can’t.” rafe sighs. 

“thank you.” you whisper, unsure if this is the right course of action, but not wanting to anger him. “thank you for saving me.” rafe gives you a smile, one that dazzles you even after knowing the truth. “i knew you would understand me. you were the only person who knew i didn’t kill kasia.”

your eyes widen, “you didn’t.” it’s not a question, it’s a realization. 

“no. and no one believed me. i was in jail for a week, questioned for hours on end. nobody even cared to look at her boyfriend.” “i didn’t know she had a boyfriend…” you try to rack your brain to remember who she was often seen with, “scott moss.” “i knew nobody would believe me that scott murdered her. i had to get rid of him myself.” “and the other girls you killed?” you question, trying to back away from rafe but he just follows, not letting you get more than a foot apart.

“they reminded me of you.” 

“no.” you let out a sob, unable to hold it back anymore. “no, it can’t be my fault.” “shh.” rafe tugs his gloves off his hands, dropping them onto your floor. he cups your face in his hand, making you look up at him. “don’t cry. i hate seeing you cry. it makes me want to kill.” that sobers you up quickly, sniffling as you try to stop the tears. “i’m sorry.” you whisper.

“it’s okay… can i cheer you up baby? can i make you feel better?” “how would you do that?” you ask, and rafe leans forward to show you, pressing his lips against yours gently. you hesitate, realizing how absolutely wrong this is. you just saw rafe kill someone, but the feel of his lips against yours has you feeling dizzy, starting to slowly kiss back.

as soon as you show some initiative, rafe becomes feral, mouth dominating yours in harsh kisses as he moves his hands to your waist, fingers slipping into the space between your skirt and crop top. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, keeping him pulled tight to you. 

“get undressed.” rafe says, pulling away harshly. he pulls the costume off over his head, revealing plain clothes underneath it. you stand transfixed as he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing golden skin. rafe looks up, realizing that you’re not moving.

he reaches around his back to pull something out of your waistband. your eyes widen when the silver glint of the knife shines in the low light, “i said, get undressed!” rafe yells, pointing the knife at you.

you’re quick to move, toeing off your heels, pulling your skirt down and tugging your shirt off. you look up to see rafe removing his underwear. your eyes widen at his hard cock. you unclip your bra, tugging it off and then followed by your underwear, leaving you completely nude.

rafe looks at you, eyes moving all the way from your toes to your head, examining every inch of your body.

“you’re so beautiful.” he steps closer, hand cupping your breast, thumb gently rubbing over the side of it. “i would have been soft with you tonight, knowing you’re a virgin. but that was before you ran from me, and disobeyed me. get on the bed.”

you don’t hesitate this time, laying on the bed, with your head against the pillows. rafe sets the hunting knife on the nightstand, draping his body over yours, and you can’t help the rush of wetness that floods your pussy when you feel his cock rest against your thigh.

“i’m going to make you feel so good. so much better than brandon or any other guy ever could.” rafe smashes his lips against yours, battling with your tongue. his hands grip your jaw, squeezing your face as he moans into your mouth, rutting his cock against your skin.

rafe pulls his mouth away, moving it to your neck, sucking harshly. you can feel the blood rushing to the spot, forming deep bruises as he moves lower to your chest, marking your decolletage.

“i’ve wanted this for so long. now i finally get to taste your skin.” he wraps his mouth around your nipple, forcing a moan out of you. you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his mouth. rafe sucks harshly, like he’s trying to leave a hicky there too, before he pulls away, moving to your other breast.

instead of sucking this time, he sticks his tongue out, flicking over your nipple until it’s completely hard before taking it in between his teeth, making you shout as he tugs on the hard bud.

“rafe! oh my god!” 

rafe moans against your chest, moving slightly off your nipple before biting your breast, leaving a bite mark on your skin as he continues down, kissing and licking your stomach as he moves himself down the bed, settling between your legs.

“rafe, i-” you gasp out as he kisses your thighs. you try to pull them closed, not wanting his eyes on the most intimate part of you, especially knowing how wet you are. “i’ve never-”

“never had anyone eat your pussy before?” he questions, hands shoving your legs open. 

“no, i haven’t, i-” rafe cuts you off by shoving his face into your cunt. his tongue laps over your entrance, his own moans from tasting you matching your own from the unfamiliar sensation.

rafe is quick to shove his tongue into your pussy, thrusting it in and out as you bring your hands down to grip his hair, eyes briefly flashing to the knife sitting on the nightstand, knowing rafe isn’t paying any attention to it.

“more, more, more.” you beg, eyes moving back to look at rafe. the need is too great to consider doing anything to stop it. 

“gonna stretch you out with my fingers, baby.” rafe says, moving his mouth up to your clit. you let out a scream at the feeling, reaching down to grip his hair in your hands. you can feel rafe smile against you, sinking his teeth into your clit as he bites it. 

you squirm under the harsh feeling, it’s just too much, but he won’t let up as he pushes the tip of his finger against your puckering entrance, briefly circling it before shoving the digit inside in one firm push. your back arches off the bed as he lets go of your clit with his teeth, stroking over it with his soft tongue.

his finger pumps in and out of you, and you spread your legs wider, giving him more space to abuse your cunt as a second finger pushes in along with his first. rafe looks up at you, wicked smile on his face, “for a virgin you’re certainly acting like a slut.” you whine, feeling tears come to your eyes. “it feels too good.” “i know baby, i promised i’d make you feel better and i’m doing it, right? do you feel better?” “yeah.” you breathe out, his head dropping again to suck harshly at your clit, “yes! oh my god, rafe!”

“call me by my other name.” rafe says, only briefly pulling away from your pussy to speak before continuing to attack your clit.

you shake your head no, but rafe just gets a determined look in his eye, somehow managing to fit a third finger inside of you, stuffing your cunt full as it squeezes tightly around them, his fingers angling upward to hit the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

rafe pulls his mouth away, thumb quickly taking its place over your clit, the rough pad rubbing harshly, tucking underneath to rub your most sensitive spot, and you can’t hold back any longer, as much as you try, “ghostface!” you shout, wetness flooding from your pussy and soaking his hands and the bed as you cum, entire body shaking as the sensation overwhelms your body, vision going black as you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing rafes laugh echoing throughout the room as he finger fucks you through your orgasm.

he pulls out suddenly and you can’t help but whine at the loss, your hole clenching around nothing. you blink your eyes open to see rafe kneeling between your legs, using the wetness from his hands to stroke his cock, coating himself in your slick.

“are you going to fuck me?” you ask, suddenly afraid of his size hurting.

“i’m sorry, princess.” rafe says, draping his body over yours, rubbing his dick against your messy cunt. “i would have been so gentle with you if you’d just behaved for me tonight.” “i’m sorry, rafe, i promise i’ll be good from now on, please go slow.” rafe frowns, like he’s seriously considering your pleas for a moment before he shakes his head, placing an elbow on one side of your head, reaching down with his other hand and lining himself up with your entrance. you breathe deeply, trying to keep your body from tensing, knowing that being relaxed will make it easier.

you cry out as rafe pushes his cock inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust as he immediately begins thrusting in and out. you watch as the eyes roll back in his head from finally being inside you.

“you’re so fucking tight, my little virgin.” rafe laughs, but it turns into a moan as he looks down at where his body is connecting with yours. “not a little virgin any longer though, huh?” rafe is bringing his entire body weight down with every thrust, and even though the stretch was painful at first, it just feels good now, the way his skin rubs against your clit every time he presses deep inside of you.

you can’t help it, when he pushes in and grinds his hips against you, your cunt flutters around his cock, squeezing it tightly, completely involuntarily from how good it feels.

“god, fuck!” rafe shouts out, making you flinch in fear.

“i’m sorry.” you whimper, eyes wide as he looks down at you, unable to read his emotions.

“you’re too fucking good.” rafe groans, hand coming up and gripping your throat, squeezing it tightly as he looks down on you. “i wish i could just fucking kill you.” your breathing is restricted, black flaring into your vision as rafe holds you by your throat, using it for leverage as he takes you repeatedly.

you try to form words, try to call out for him, and just as you start to slip into unconsciousness, rafe lowers his hand to your breast, gripping the skin there instead as you take in large gulps of air.

“i told you i wouldn’t kill you.” rafe says with a grunt, smashing your lips together in a kiss that steals your air just as much as his hand around your neck. 

“it feels so good.” you cry, pleasure sparking as he pulls at your nipple before switching to the other one, his cock pushing against your sweet spot with every thrust.

“yeah?” rafe laughs harshly. “gonna cum on my cock? i told you that you would baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t-” you sob, tears flowing down your face, unable to hold back your orgasm even though you’d like to. your entire body shakes as rafe is unforgiving with his thrusts, bending and licking at your face, collecting the salty tears from your cheeks with his rough tongue. 

“cum for me.” rafe grunts, pulling away to kneel between your legs, pulling your hips up off the bed to keep a deep angle as he smashes into you. “i said, cum for me!” the anger in rafes voice pushes you over the edge, scared of what he will do if you don’t follow his directions, your high washing over you, and for a second you feel like you’re floating over your body as pleasure takes over, until the sharp pain of overstimulation greets you as rafe continues to fuck you.

“please.” you try to shove him away, but he just smacks your hands away like they’re nothing more than an annoying little bug. you try next to squeeze your thighs together, but it clenches your sore cunt at the same time, making rafe moan.

“gonna cum in you.” rafe says, moving a hand to your clit, rubbing over it harshly with his palm.

“stop, stop!” you shout, your back arching and heels pushing against the bed as you try to get away from it, the overwhelmingly good feeling turning quickly to displeasure.

“never gonna stop, baby.” rafe grinds his dick inside of you, not caring for your pleasure. “now that you know who i am, i’m going to have to keep coming back here every night and fucking you silly so you can’t tell anyone.” “i won’t tell, i promise.” you try to look at rafe, but your tears cloud your vision. “i promise, rafe, please, just stop.”

you know your words aren’t what convinces him, but rather your pussy squeezing his cock, causing him to shoot his load deep inside of you as he moans, keeping your hips pushed firmly against his body. you whine as you feel him flood your insides, of course he didn’t use any protection, and you’re not on birth control, but you can’t even begin to think of the implications as long as rafe kneels over you.

“good girl.” rafe hums, patting your lower tummy as he slowly pulls out, cum falling in dollops onto your comforter.

“r-rafe.” you whimper as he lays down next to you. 

“shh, baby.” he pushes your hair out of your face, leaning over your body and giving you a light kiss on the lips. your eyes fluttering closed in pure exhaustion. “i told you i won’t kill you. go to sleep. i’ll be here in the morning. i’ll always be here.” 

you don’t protest as rafe pulls you into him, your body is too tired to move away from the murderer. you rest your head against his chest, still slick with sweat from fucking you. 

“are you going to keep killing?” you ask quietly. you’re unsure if he hears you, as the minutes tick by, the silence of the room now deafening. “i either keep killing them or i kill you.” rafe finally says, making you shudder. “which would you rather it be?”

guilt pangs in your chest as you whisper your response, “keep killing them.”

[0mg-bird]

Springsteen- J Seresin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jake hasn’t seen you since the two of you left for school, but as he stops into a hometown gas station, fourth of July weekend, he is met with a blast from the past.

Warnings: Fluff! Smut! Language and alcohol. Angst! 18+ content.

A/n: This was from the summer and I forgot about it haha, sorry yall. Anyway, enjoy this fourth of July Jake imagine.

The Texas sun was brighter than ever as Jake helped his brother, Sean, hang the extravagantly large flag from the top story balcony.

“Why’s Mom always gotta be over the top.” Sean grunts, holding his side of the heavy flag up while trying to zip tie it to the balcony post.

Jake tugs the flag tight. “Because it’s Mom, she wants to celebrate all her kids being home on ‘the greatest day of the year besides Jesus’s birthday.’ Her words, not mine.”

As the two finish up and head down stairs, they hear the hustle and bustle of their mother ordering Lindsey and Kylie, the younger Seresin sisters, around, making sure they are helping get things ready for the barbecue happening later on.

“Ah, Jake.” DeAnn, the beaming mother comes over to her son. “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re here?”

Jake smiles. “About a dozen times, Mom.”

Lindsey scoffs. “I’m home too.”

Kylie looks at her little sister. “Yeah, well we don’t serve America so we don’t matter.” She jokes, eating out of the large fruit bowl.

DeAnn turns to the girls. “Oh you two stop, I see you a lot more than Jake.” Then her hand rests on her son’s shoulder. “Jake, go get some more ice, will you?”

The girls start to laugh, through a mouth full of watermelon, Kylie slurs. “Go on, errand boy. Your active service days aren’t over after all.”

He shoots her a look. “You’re making a mess, Mom, she’s making your counters all sticky.”

Their mother turns with a gasp. “Kylie May.” She calls, and while she forces the girl to clean up her mess, Jake leaves the kitchen.

Passing his father who sits in his recliner chair, he pauses. “I’m going to the store, need anything, old man?”

John shakes his head no, moving his attention back to the television.

Jake nods, trying not to chuckle at the lack of words the man expresses.

The old pick up rolls down the roads, Jake’s arm hangs out the window, his head bopping to the rhythm of the country song on the radio.

Pine Station was a one stop shop for someone who didn’t want to go all the way into the busy town just for a bag of ice.

The place hasn’t changed, in fact it was in need of a paint job.

He pulls into the gas station, and his truck door clanks shut as he slams it closed. He hangs his Ray Ban glasses on his shirt collar, then steps into the air conditioning.

A face he does not know greets him from the register, he gives a friendly nod then makes his way to the freezers in the very back. The isles are free of any other customers, but they haven’t been rearranged in years. He’s trying to remember the last time he stepped inside when a Bruce Springsteen song comes on over the dusty radio in the corner. ‘Dancing In The Dark’ was one of his favorites, he feels a grin grow on his lips.

Pulling one of the glass freezer doors open, he grabs a bag of ice, then makes his way down the ‘essentials’ isle.

He’s not really paying attention, truthfully his focus is on the nostalgic song. That’s why when he passes a woman, he doesn’t register the fact that she’s no stranger.

You head is hung as you look at different sun screens, looking at which one is for sensitive skin. Jake pauses about eight feet from you, his brows drawing together in confusion. Your bright eyes glance up once you notice the body standing there, but they are casted back down again quickly.

Jake physically rubs his eyes, making sure he’s not imagining it.

Not his imagination, you’re standing right in front of him. Sunglasses are pushed onto your head, hair is a wavy mess that hits the bottom of your shoulder blades. Your skin is tan, contrasting against your see through, white, tank top. A bright red bikini is shining through underneath, and a pair of cut off jean shorts are hugging your waist smoothly, cheap flip flops are on your pink manicured feet.

Something flips inside of him, he can’t believe it’s real.

His voice comes out an octave above a whisper, he doesn’t intend it to be, but that’s how it sounds as he says your name.

You pause, then lift your eyes once more, he sees them widen.

His voice is the same, maybe a little deeper but the way he whispers your name is the same.

You stand, star struck, looking him over.

“Jake.”

He takes in a deep breath. “Hi…I-I can’t believe…God, it’s really you.”

A light chuckle comes from him, it makes the corners of your mouth twitch up.

“You know, I never would have thought I’d run into you in Pine’s…on the 4th.”

God, your voice, he can’t believe he’s forgotten it.

“Why’s that?” He asks, adjusting the hold on the bag of ice.

You put a sunscreen bottle back on the shelf. “Because I didn’t think you’d ever be Mr. Hometown again.”

“I’m just here for the summer, actually and uh, well Mom needed ice so here I am.”

He watches the way you slowly nod, a sarcastic look on your face. “So you’re just Mr. Iceman.” You say.

“Hangman, actually.” He corrects, not considering that you might be confused.

“What?”

He pauses, remembering you haven’t spoken in well over ten years. “Hangman is my call sign…Iceman is someone else…never mind, it really doesn’t matter.”

“Oh yeah, the pilot thing. I assume that went well?”

Somehow, it hurt, the way you spoke about the life of his you weren’t apart of. He nods. “The academy went well, deployment was good every time. I actually am not active duty anymore.”

You feel happy for him, because the dream he spoke about as a teenager came true. “I’m glad things turned out in your favor, Jake.” You say, and you mean it.

“What about you?” It comes out rushed, like he’s afraid you’ll walk away. “How- how’d life turn out for you?”

You blow out a puff of air. “Graduated ‘bama.”

“Roll Tide, you traitor.” He jokes.

You roll your eyes.

“Anyway, graduated, got a job in Dallas as an addiction and recovery counselor. I got a house, got engaged-”

His heart stops, his eyes immediately drift to your left hand. There’s no ring.

“-got un-engaged, sold my house, and now I’m here.”

He nods in understanding, then looks to see the small girl who is approaching.

“You had a kid too?” He questions, eyeing the child who looks exactly like you.

“What?” You question, but the hand around your leg answers your question. Immediately you grin and lean down to pick up the five year old. “Did you find something you want?” You ask the curly haired kid.

She smiles and holds up a blow pop and a bag of crackers.

“Good choice.” You kiss her head, then turn back to Jake. “This is my niece, Billy, she’s Sara’s middle child.”

That makes more sense.

“How is your sister?” Jake asks, seeing the way Billy watches him with interest and confusion.

“Pregnant.” You huff. “She’s on her fourth kid, so she’s pretty much always pregnant.”

He remembers going to the wedding, he remembers the blue, maid of honor dress you wore. Even at seventeen, he was aware enough to know you were the most beautiful thing around. He remembers how you cried when your father crashed the party and had to be dragged out, he can still feel your head on his shoulder as he came to check on you.

That was a long time ago.

“Well, at least she’s happy.” He says, gently waving to the girl as she still eyes him.

“Yeah, she never stops smiling, it’s a little creepy.” You laugh, hoisting Billy further up your hip.

“Are…are you happy?” Jake pushes past the line of mild friendly conversation, but you don’t get weirded out, you simply nod.

“I’m happy, are you happy?”

“I am.”

“Good.”

A few breaths pass, then you grab the second bottle of sunscreen off the shelf. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Jake.” You say, turning away and making your way to the front register.

He’s quick to follow. You set Billy down so you can find your wallet. As you pay, Jake determines he can’t just let you slip through his fingers.

“What are you doing tonight?” He rushes out as you get a bag for your things. You turn to face him, scooting back so he can pay for his bag of ice.

“Well it’s the fourth so I’ll be at the boat docks, watching the fire works.” You tell him, grabbing Billy’s hand.

He thanks the cashier woman and drops his change into the fundraiser jar that sits on the counter. Then, he follows you out the door.

“You want to watch them with me? On the family boat?” He asks.

From the minivan, your sister, Sara, pulls her sunglasses down, making sure her eyes aren’t betraying her. No, you really were having a conversation with your old flame.

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.” You admit, he immediately questions it.

“Why? We should catch up.”

You still shake your head. “A boat with your family? Jake, your Mama hates me.”

“No she doesn’t.” He tries to reason, but you give him a knowing look.

“She’s hated me since the first night you brought me over for dinner.” You say.

Well, you weren’t exactly lying, but that didn’t matter.

“Look, just meet me at eight at my house, we can ride over together. Okay?”

You sigh, looking at your feet. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it?” He questions.

“Yes, I’ll think about it.”

Then, you’re walking away to the powder blue minivan.

~~

Eight o’clock, then eight thirty and you were no where to be found. The mass of family and friends made the Seresin home a bustling place, but Jake sat in the backyard, disappointed.

When it was time to go to the lake, he drove in a contemplating silence.

Would it be another ten years before he sees you again?

The large boat is unloaded and as he helps everyone else on, he pauses before he can get on himself.

With the sun disappearing, it made your outline look defined in the last flecks of light. He stands there, looking at you.

“Is the invitation still good?” You ask, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“The invitation will always be good.” He grins, then reaches for your hand.

It’s an awkward situation, coming into close proximity to a family you haven’t spoken to in years. After a few quick conversations to catch up, you and Jake are sat at the bow of the boat, watching as you’re driven to the middle of the lake.

Jake talks about different stories from his deployments, all the places he’s been. You listen intently, laughing along with him.

As he sips his beer, he shifts so he’s facing you fully. “So, am I allowed to ask about this almost wedding you had?”

You sigh, finishing your water. “I met a guy my senior year of college.”

“What was his name?” Jake questions, and for some reason, he has this low feeling of jealousy.

“David, he was an advanced engineer major.”

Jake hums.

He sounds like a douche bag already.

“We were together for almost five years, got engaged…then I found out he was sleeping with his best friend’s wife and talking to eight different girls online.”

“Jesus, that’s…I’m sorry.” He sighs, watching you shrug. “Yeah, well I found out because the wife told me to check his phone…I did. He was so angry, started throwing stuff, threw the biggest temper tantrum I’d ever seen. I kicked him out that night.” You tell the story with no emotion, Jake can tell it’s something you’ve already come to peace with.

“Life changes pretty fast sometimes.” You state, pulling your hair tie out so your messy hair falls down slowly.

“Tell me about it.” Jake sighs, finishing his drink.

The two of you are silent, listening to the soft music playing from somewhere behind you. Jake feels a wave of deja vu, this exact spot was where the two of you made the decision to go about your lives separately when it came time for school. And despite all the things talked about in the past hour, the things in life shared with one another that has happened since, he still feels like he knows you as well as he knows himself.

“Are you still a Springsteen enthusiast?” He asks just so he can watch you smile.

“Oh come on, you know I am…but not as much recently.” You say, leaning back on your elbows. “You know, I still can’t hear ‘I’m On Fire’ without thinking about the time your dad caught us in the hayloft.”

Jake laughs at the memory. “I still remember how hard my mom slapped me. I wasn’t allowed to see you for two weeks.”

“And yet you still snuck into my bedroom.” You point out, recalling how hot the two of you were for each other in your youth. You loved him with every ounce of your body, you gave him everything you had to give and the promises he had whispered to you were so perfect sounding. It’s hard to think that through all of the things you two went through, it still ended with two broken hearts.

As the fireworks burst above your heads, the sinking feeling you pushed through came wiring back, hitting you hard. What would life be like if he let you stick it out? What would the past decade or so be like if you two were still in love.

It’s silent, just ‘ooo’s and ‘ahhh’s as the bright lights cascade in the sky.

Jake looks over at you, seeing the way you watch with a peaceful yet solemn expression.

As the show ends and Jake insists on driving you home, you let thoughts consume you.

The low hum of the radio gives you something to focus on instead of feeling pathetic for revisiting old wounds. You swear you moved past it, you’re grown now, this feeling is something childish…but you know that throb in your chest.

All because he looked at you the same way he did at seventeen.

“Did I say something?” Jake finally asks, seeing how you only look out the window.

“No, no you’re…you’re perfect.” You sigh, biting your lower lip.

Despite the way your words make him fight a smile, his concern only grows.

“Well you’ve been oddly silent.” He reminds, and he doesn’t miss the way you wipe your eyes.

“I just…I just wish you would’ve let me wait for you.” You finally turn to him, eyes red.

“What do you mean?” He questions, pulling down the road to your sister’s house.

“When you left for the academy, I wish you would’ve let me wait for you, through all of it. I would’ve waited, I planned on waiting.”

He processes what words to say. “I wanted you to move on, we had a whole conversation about why we couldn’t wait for each other.”

The opening tune to ‘I’m on Fire’ comes through the speakers and you think you might just die.

“I know…I know. Sorry.” You huff.

When he pulls up to the dark house. “They’re not back yet?” He asks.

“They’re staying at the lake cabin.” You simply say, looking around the 4x4 truck before reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the walk down memory lane. Good night, Jake.”

“Good night…” Jake says softly, watching you go.

No.

No, he wasn’t doing this.

The truck door slams shut as he rushes after you. By the time you get the front door unlocked, he’s standing in the doorway with you.

The pining feels like he’s in high school again, like he’s not a grown adult with maturity and experience and a whole life he’s lived without you.

You look up at him, breathless. He does the same.

“I don’t care that we’re not kids anymore, I don’t care that we’ve lived a whole life away from each other, and maybe this is just some false feeling I have but thinking about not seeing you again…I just…I-”

You can’t handle it. “I know, just kiss me.”

His eyes dart to your lips, his hand immediately cradling the side of your face, the other on your hip. Your eyes fall shut as he rushes his lips to yours, it’s as good as clean air. His body molds into yours, crowding your space until you’re shoved against the door. One hand gripping his shirt, the other braces behind you, flat against the door.

Jake was always a good kisser, but he’s grown now and though you’d prefer to not think about it, his growth of experience really does him justice. He’s kissed you as a boy plenty of times before. He’s never kissed you as a man.

By the time your knees are weak, he’s becoming more needy and passionate, going as far as you’ll let him go because it’s all his body wants to do.

You blindly reach for the door handle, making the two of you stumble inside. You’re kicking off your sandals, making him follow suit, your hands are in his hair, you’re pulling away only to lead him up the stairs to your bedroom. He slams the door shut, pulling your shirt off and tossing it to the ground before backing you up against the wall.

Your chest heaves, fingers pulling at his t shirt. “God bless the Navy for making you look like this.” You groan, eyeing his extremely well built frame. Jake laughs, his hands running down your backside before gripping your thighs. As you jump into his grip, your legs wrap around his waist. His large hands are against your back as he carries you to the bed, laying you down against the mattress.

Your jean shorts are pulled off, leaving you in just your bathing suit. As you sit up, you’re tugging at his swim trucks, but his strong grip is pulling your hands away.

“Hang on, are you sure about this?” He questions, looking deep into your eyes.

You nod. “Please, Jake.”

The whine of his name could have him finishing right then and there. With a strangled groan, he pushes you back against the pillows, tugging your bottoms off and hastily untying your top.

As a girl, you were pretty. As a woman, fuck, you were gorgeous.

He lays above you, his face burying in your neck, kissing you with such a heat that you squirm. As his hips roll against yours, the contact of his clothed lower half catches with your neediness, making you shiver.

As he moves his mouth to one of your breasts, you feel like you’re going to burst into flames. A hand travels down his toned abs and into his shorts, at the slightest touch of your hand, Jake is sucking in a breath.

“Fuck, baby, you need to slow down or I won’t last.” He says, choking on his words as he feels your grip around his hardening length.

“That’s okay.” You whisper. “We have all night.”

You’re perfect, you’re the perfect woman.

He kisses you in a smoldering heat again, distracting you enough to pull your hand away. He won’t be able to focus on what he wants to do if you keep stroking him like that.

His hand lightly sneaks down your stomach and he carefully caresses your core.

You gasp loudly, the slightest touch is a heavenly feeling to your sensitivity. His fingers slide back and forth between your folds, he’s grinning wildly at how wet all of this is making you.

He’s curious if you’d react the same way you used to when he entered two fingers inside you, stretching your walls.

You grip his hair and suck your bottom lip.

Yep, still the same.

As he pumps his fingers in and out, he only pulls away to run your wetness across your clit.

“Oh my god.” You whine, tightening your grip in his hair, making a shiver roll down his spine.

Slowly and with more applied pressure, he’s watching you come undone. “Jake wait, wait, if you don’t stop I’ll finish just like this.”

“Fine by me, sweetheart.” He grins like a devil.

The muscles of your abdomen contract, your staring at him with heavy and lustful eyes. You bring his head down, kissing him once more as you grow closer and closer to that snapping feeling. His tongue dances past your lips, your toes are curling into the sheets.

“Come on, I know you want to.” He mumbles against you. “Just give in for me, I want to see you cum.”

That voice, so deep and grown up now.

You whine against his mouth, your entire body tensing before the coil inside you snaps and your release floods you. Loud intakes of breath, Jake chuckles at the way your eyes flutter.

“Holy shit…that was good.” You pant after a solid moment of silence, leaning back up to kiss him. You slowly sit up, almost demanding his shorts come off before you lose your mind.

“I missed how needy you get.” He smirks, kissing the side of your head as you pull the draw strings apart and push him to sit. You pull the swim trunks down slowly, watching as his hard length comes to lay against his lower stomach. Your thighs clench at the thought of having it inside of you.

“I just missed you. I missed you so much and I didn’t even know it.” You pant.

He watches as you slowly fist him up and down again, though the blissful feeling makes his eyes shut and his head fall back slightly.

“Fuck.” He grunts.

In your nightstand drawer, there’s a condom that you honestly hadn’t been planning on using.

It has a use now.

His finger tips press into the flesh of your hips, there’s a furrow in his brow as he helps guid you down onto him. His body shudders at the initial feeling, his jaw going slack as he feels himself stretch you perfectly.

Soft whimpers come from your lips, your hands slide down his strong shoulders.

“Shh, I got you.” He whispers as you adjust. His hand comes up to gently brush your hair back, then he’s pressing his forehead to yours as you slowly grind your hips, testing the waters.

It’s a rhythm, almost like a heart beat, the way the two of you move together. His warm hands are running down your back, raising goose bumps. The room is filled with the sound of mixed grunts and breathes, it’s making you dizzy. His mouth on your neck doesn’t help, your fingers running through his hair is driving him crazy.

“That feel good?” He mutters into your skin.

You shudder, the feeling of him hitting that right place inside of you has your eyes rolling slightly.

“Yeah, fuck, Jake. It’s really good.”

It’s hot and it’s meaningful, and you’re dragging him close to his climax.

Mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, it gets hungrier and needy and you want it all from him. He’s whispering, so are you, swearing things to each other like no time has passed, like he’s been fucking up into you this entire time.

When the finish comes, he’s got a hand tangled in your hair and the other threatening to bruise your waist, and you look at him with a smile.

It’s blood rushing and mind shaking and ultimately a loss of breath. You’re leaned into his neck as you ride it out, huffing with tears burning your eyes.

He’s so so gentle, but reassuring in telling you just how good it was.

Once upon a time, you were seventeen and so deep in love with a boy who broke your heart, even if he didn’t want to. You rode passenger seat in his old jeep, singing Bruce Springsteen to each other, taking the long way back to your home because the only place you wanted to be, was next to him.

Now, you’re in your bedroom, staring at the window while pressed into Jake’s side. The simple movement of your fingers running over his ribs makes him calm, or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re close by again.

“You wanna know a secret?” You ask, breaking the silence.

He hums, then tucks your hair behind your ear. “Always.”

You adjust slightly. “I never stopped thinking about you when I would hear a Springsteen song…after a while I had to stop listening all together because I couldn’t stop the urge to try and call you.”

Jake tightens his arm around you, his brows draw close together. “Sorry I ruined music for you.”

“You never ruined anything…” You say ghostly, though it’s obvious that there is one thing that was tarnished.

“I could have sworn that breaking up was the best decision.” He says, looking at the ceiling.

“It was, we wouldn’t be where we are if we stayed together, I do know that.”

It still hurts his heart. “I could’ve still had you.” Jakes sighs.

After a moment, listening to a few stray fireworks go off, you speak out.

“You have me now…”

A smile pulls on his lips.

Things were going to be just fine, they were going to be the way they should be, with Springsteen playing and you at his side.

[sweetbans29]

Varsity Jacket - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin keep it light and playful at a game (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Is this not everyones dream?

It's the first time in the state's history of WBB that they decided to play basketball in a football stadium. A piece of history that has been led by one girl allowing thousands to benefit.

The game was chosen to be an exhibition game, a kick-off to the season, naming it the Crossover at Kinnick. They laid the Iowa WBB court within the confines of the outdoor football stadium, drawing a near 55,000 fans to be a part of the first game in Caitlin Clark's senior year. A NCAA record-breaking 55,000 fans. The first of many records Clark would break this upcoming season.

The game followed a lot of football Saturday traditions. The way the team was called out, a stadium flyover, and your favorite part - the Hawkeye Wave over to the kids in the UI Stead Family Children’s Hospital. You had done it before when your team had danced at football games and were excited to be a part of it today.

You are proud to be part of the Iowa Hawkeye dance team - have been for the past three years now. It is what brought you to IU in the first place.

Growing up dance had always been something you enjoyed. Unlike most of the other girls on the dance team, you didn't start taking dance classes until halfway through middle school. When you learned you had a natural talent for it, you started taking it more seriously. You joined your high school's dance team and decided it was something you wanted to try your hand at in college. When you auditioned going into your freshman year, you were one of two freshmen to make the team.

Since then you have captained the team for two football seasons, going into your third. Yet here you are, freezing your azz off because you forgot your damn coat.

Upon arriving at the stadium, you should have been prepared. You should have thought through how it is November in Iowa and how it is about to be winter but that doesn't cross your mind until you are shaking courtside.

"Didn't you bring a coat?" One of your teammates asks. She is currently bundled up in two jackets, ear muffs, and hand warmers.

"If I did, don't you think I would be wearing it?" You snap and immediately realize. "I'm sorry babe, I am just freezing."

You are trying to hide your shaking body and keep moving around to generate any sort of heat that you can.

A part of being on the dance team was being visible during the whole game. You weren't the cheer squad but your team had to be posted up next to them every game. It wasn't bad, it was just cold.

As halftime approached you directed your team to stretch out again, not wanting them to pull anything while dancing. You did the same, as you watched your basketball continue to do what they do best.

Once everyone was stretched, you all bunched together ready to take the court.

"I am still freezing my ass off," you say rubbing your hands together and huddle close to your friend. "I can't believe I didn't bring my freaking overcoat."

The team was coming off when someone bumped your shoulder causing you to take a few steps back.

"Hey! Watch it," you tell the 6-foot frame.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," the girl says. You pull down your skirt and smooth it over. Once you are satisfied with your outfit adjustment you look up.

'Of-freaking-course', you think to yourself as you make eye contact with none other than Caitlin Clark.

"I didn't see you there," she says, the slightest smirk peaking out.

"Very funny Clark," you say trying to hide your own smile and keep it serious.

"Oh, keeping it professional now are we?" She says. "It's cute, but you can call me Caitlin."

"That is so kind of you," you say, kind of surprised she is still there talking to you. You finish your sentence with, "Clark."

She just smiles and shakes her head. You hear the music come on and you know it's your cue. Caitlin doesn't follow the rest of the team back through the tunnel, rather stands to the side and watches you and your team take the court.

Caitlin knows she should be back with her team. More so to warm up but she couldn't nor wanted to take her eyes off you. She stood there watching you and your team keep everyone entertained during halftime. A smile resting on her lips the entire time.

She has seen you around before. How could she not, you were at practically every sports game. Caitlin would frequent the Hawkeye's football games but never really got close enough to see you perform (something she will probably never admit to you). If it wasn't seeing you in passing there, she noticed you would go and watch other sports just for fun. She has to think about it but if she remembers correctly she has seen you at both the men's and women's volleyball matches, women's soccer, and even some track and even the women's swim and dive meets.

Caitlin cheers on your team as you finish your routine and runoff, making way for the cheer squad to perform their routine next. As you make your way back you see Cait standing in the same spot she bumped you in. She is smiling at you and clapping as you make your way over. You walk up to her despite the murmurs you hear from your team, only making out your name and Caitlin's in their muffled conversations.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere, Clark?" You ask as you cross your arms over your chest. You may have just performed a 6-minute dance routine but the chilled air was unforgiving.

"Wanted to stay out here and watch - making sure your little frozen ass doesn't fall off," she says, her eyes never leaving yours.

"The team is great," you say with a smile choosing to ignore the second part of her statement and refusing to be the first one to break eye contact.

"I wasn't watching the team," she says, that stupid smirk playing on her lips again. You could feel yourself losing this battle.

"That's a shame, they are great," you say trying to regain any part of this conversation.

"Maybe, but not as great as who I had my eyes on," she says. You blush and look away. You felt like you were being interrogated by the freaking CIA not flirting with your school's superstar.

"Okay, Clark, you win," you say as you crumble under her gaze.

She rubs the back of your arm, letting her hand linger on you. You look back up at her.

"I should get back," she says not wanting to leave you but knowing her job isn't done.

"You should," you say, agreeing for her - the first time since this conversation has started.

"Thanks for umm, thanks for watching," you say, your nerves peaking out. She nods and heads in the direction of her team.

What the hell was that? You make your way over to your team and they are all chattering about the interaction. You take your seat next to your co-captain who is just looking at you.

You keep your head forward still processing it all. Caitlin Clark was just talking to you. Not only that, but she waited and watched you perform then proceeded to flirt with you about it. Her hand was on your arm. You were thankful it wasn't skin-to-skin contact because you probably would have never let her walk away. She was teasing you.

You are too caught up in your own thoughts to see when someone had walked up to you. Your co-cap tapping your leg and nodding at the woman who was standing in front of you.

"Oh hi," you say and stand.

"I was told to bring this over to you," she says holding something, you look down and it's a jacket.

"Oh thank you," you say grabbing it.

"She wanted me to say it is from Caitlin," she says, emphasizing the name. "Told me I had to emphasize the name."

The woman walks away and you unfold the jacket to see 'CLARK' on the back right above the number 22. This girl is not serious right now. If you were under any other circumstance, you would not be putting it on but since the only time you have stopped shaking was while you were performing you decide to put the jacket on.

If your team was whispering about your interaction with Caitlin before, they are shouting from the rooftops now.

The basketball team comes back out and you find yourself looking for a particular someone. To your delight, she is making her way over to you.

"You got it, good," she says, wrapped in an Iowa jacket of her own.

"You didn't need to do this," you say but make no move to try and hand it back to her. It has been the warmest you have been the whole game. She lets out a little laugh.

"Sure, says the one who was shaking like a chihuahua," she says taking in the sight of you in her clothing. She could get used to this.

"I appreciate it, Clark," you say and she groans.

"Caitlin," she says.

"Clark," you retort.

"Cait," she responds.

"Clark," you are not giving in.

"CC, Caity, C - anything but Clark," she says frustrated.

"Why does it bother you so much that I call you by your last name?" You ask now the one who has the slight edge in the conversation.

"Clark, get your butt over here," one of her coaches yells at her.

"That's why," she mumbles and gives you one last look before running back over to the team.

"Get it Clark!" You yell after her, earning some whistles and shouts from your team.

You're thankful it is still cold out because the redness on your cheeks can easily be taken as cold, hiding your blush.

Your team doesn't shut up about the fact that you had talked to Caitlin but she gave her varsity jacket to you to wear. All the girls were staring at you and taking in the sight of the player's jacket.

A ball gets swatted out of bounds and you catch it before it can hit anyone on your team. Caitlin sees where it goes and books it to grab it from you.

Here is the thing about Caitlin, she is the last person to go and catch a ball that has been hit out of bounds. Her whole team was aware of this. So it is to everyone's surprise when she is the first one to hustle after the ball when the whistle is blown.

You hold up the ball for her.

"Careful there Clark, could have hurt someone," you say.

She laughs, "Ya right."

"Since when are you the first one to run after a loose ball," you say exposing that you may have watched her more than a few times. Could anyone blame you? Caitlin has been drawing the attention of the whole nation.

"Didn't want to miss the opportunity to come talk to the pretty girl," she says with that damn smirk.

"You are too kind Clark," you say faking flattery.

"Oh, I was talking about the girl next to you," she says teasing you.

You sit there speechless as Caitlin finally takes the ball.

"I'm kidding, but you should see the look on your face. It's priceless," she says winking at you before heading back over to inbound the ball.

'Oh it is on Clark' you think as you watch them finish up the last quarter.

Caitlin, of course, plays amazing. She finishes the game off with her first triple-double of the season. You watch as she celebrates with her team - all of who were excited to start the season on a high note. You are celebrating with your team when they all go quite in front of you and stare at something behind you. You turn around before Caitlin can tap your shoulder.

"Ahh, so we meet again," you say with a smile. "Well done Clark."

"Okay, enough with the Clark. You are wearing my jacket for goodness sake," she says and shakes her head.

"Oh, ya, thank you for this," you say and begin to take it off. She stops you by putting her hand on your arm - the second time today you note.

"Hold on to it, if you take it off now you will start shaking again and I don't really care to see you looking like a little chihuahua," she says and scratches the back of her neck. You raise your eyebrow at her. If you don't give her the jacket back now, that means you will need to see her again to return it.

"And who exactly am I supposed to get this back to you?" You ask.

"Well that is actually why I came over here," she says and you can tell she is a little more nervous than she had been before. You don't notice but both of your teams are watching the interaction between you.

"Okay," you say encouraging her to continue.

"How would you feel about going out with me this weekend?" Caitlin says as she has to mentally remind herself to keep her breathing steady and to not rush her words.

"I don't know..." you start. "I was thinking I could just have someone swing the jacket by one of your practices."

Caitlin's face looks mortified and you immediately bring your hand up to hers to ease her, your joke being taken a little too serious.

"I'm kidding Clark," you say and give her hand a squeeze. "I would love to go out with you this weekend."

She smiles widely.

"Great," she says. "I'll text you details," she begins walking backward.

"And how are you going to do that without my number?" You say as she is now just out of reach.

"You're cute," she says, now back in control of the conversation. "I've had your number for a while, now I just get to use it."

You stare at her, mouth agape. You don't know how to get the last word in so she does.

"Talk to you soon babe!" Caitlin says and runs back towards her team.

AN: This was a cutie. Hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Just Friends

pairing: beomgyu x reader

summary: Just friends, just friends. That's all there is, all there's ever been but have you really ever been just friends?

warnings: gn reader, dom reader, sub beomgyu, thigh riding, handjob, lots of groping, car sex, mentions of masturbation, possibly more that i forgot

word count: 2.2k

a/n: writer's block is so real, i literal pulled this out of a sleep-deprived haze at 4 in the morning so feedback would be appreciated<3

Just friends. He tells himself over and over again.

Just friends. You tell yourself over and over again.

But friends don't do things like this on rainy nights in the back of your car. With your windows fogging up and the only light coming from a lone streetlight from the corner of the parking lot.

Friends don't clutch his hips, grinding him down against your thigh. Friends don't pant heavily at the feeling of his fingernails digging deep into the skin of your shoulders almost hard enough to draw blood.

At least they shouldn't.

But maybe you and Beomgyu have never really been 'just friends'.

"God," but it's never gone this far before. "Don't stop, please, don't stop!"

Sure there's been teasing touches and lingering looks, meaningful conversations that maybe meant more than either of you had wanted to admit.

But you hadn't expected it to go this far.

To have him clinging to you. To have his lips all over your neck and your hands all in his hair.

To have his pants discarded somewhere in the back along with his boxers in your haste...

To have his dick rubbing against the rough material of your jeans. To have him sobbing into your ear to not stop, to never stop, that he'll die without your touch.

You suppose your best friend has always been a touch dramatic.

If you could even call him that anymore-your best friend.

"Don't worry baby," every nerve ending in his body feels like it's on fire. His ears feel like they're ringing, replaying your words over and over like a broken record. "I won't."

It feels so good, it hurts so bad.

Tears stream down his face from both-from everything. From you calling him baby like he's yours. With so much affection and adoration, like he's the most important thing in the world to you right now.

Like he isn't shaking against you, crying out like some kind of wounded animal (in heat), thinking or maybe even muttering how he can't get enough, how it'll never be enough, how he wants you so bad, how he'll die before he lets you go.

Your hand guides his lips to yours, soft and sweet and hungry. Devouring every one of his whines up and replying with your own want for more, kissing him like your life depends on it. You'd always thought that he'd sound pretty, but not this pretty, not this pathetic or needy.

"Fuck, Beomgyu."

Your mouth clashes against his over and over, saliva dripping down his chin as he tries and fails in trying not to drool. You're too preoccupied in nipping at his lips that you're faintly aware of his hands slipping under your shirt until they're on your chest, squeezing and exploring everything he's only fantasized of.

He hasn't felt this good before. Ever. Not from past partners or from his own hand. Toys feel like nothing compared to this, the unforgiving bite of denim somehow lightyears better than vibrators and dildos and whatever else he's used to replicate your touch.

The friction makes him feel like he's burning but his hips just rut faster. He wishes it was your skin, soft and comfortable and you-but he doesn't think he can be patient enough. Doesn't think he can find it in himself to let go of you long enough for you to take your pants off. He has his nose in your hair and the taste of you on his tongue, and he can't stop now.

He can't stop. Not when he's wanted this for so, so long.

Okay, so maybe you've never truly been 'just friends'.

Well, maybe before that first time you were out at a party together and a friend of a friend approached Beomgyu, trying to talk him up while you stood right next to him.

Before you'd watched, something ugly simmering in the pit of your stomach that you couldn't fully decipher-that you weren't sure you wanted to decipher.

It was only until Beomgyu shot you a pleading look that you were able to keep your cool and then you'd very kindly told that friend of a friend to back the fuck off and leave the two of you alone.

And maybe, just maybe Beomgyu had gone home that night and let his hand wander past his waistband to wrap around his aching cock.

Jesus christ.

With each stroke of his hand he conjured your image in his mind. It was you looking at him, watching him-touching him. Talking to him in that same cold, mean voice you had talked to that friend of a friend.

Hating him and loving him all in one, rough and cruel but soft and caring. He wanted all of it, all of you.

And then afterwards it was basking in an afterglow of remembering the way that your eyes softened once again when they landed on him and your hand touched his shoulder and you asked if he was okay.

Friends do this...right? He'd thought, not ready yet to admit that maybe it was something more.

Just friends that brought you to his apartment a few weeks later, slightly ashamed and very drunk and looking for some kind of comfort after you'd been out drinking for better part of the night.

Just friends that had your hands all over his body and your lips all over his throat, sloppy wet kisses making his head spin and his body heat up. That'd had you shoving him down onto the couch and climbing on top of him, pushing your knee between his legs as your cold hands slithered up his shirt in search of warm, smooth skin to lay claim on as yours.

Just friends with the way that you promptly passed out on top of him and conveniently remembered nothing of the night before. Of groping your best friend, of telling him how pretty he was, of whispering that he was a good boy.

'I want you.'

'You're so pretty.'

'Perfect.'

'My good boy.'

'Mine.'

Friends don't know the way his moans sound. Or the way his skin feels against yours.

Like tonight,

A movie. That was all it was supposed to be.

Platonic. Friends. Just going to see a movie together, get dinner after. Nothing more.

"Touch me! G-od, please touch me!" His hand flies up, fingers dig into your wrist as he pulls it down between his legs, his dick throbbing and needy.

It feels so much better-your hand-your skin, your fingers loosely wrapping around him, teasingly rubbing at the tip. "And why should I baby? Have you been good? Have you been a good boy?"

He doesn't know.

He doesn't knowHe doesn't knowHe doesn't know.

All he knows is you.

Just friends shouldn't let things get to this point.

...Oh well.

A movie. A quiet theatre. Darkness and eyes all too often glancing at the profile of the other.

A tension palpable in the air as fingers brushed against each other to grab popcorn. Hands aching, itching to hold each other. An agonizing one hundred and twenty minutes.

Nothing though.

Only getting into the car afterwards and driving off.

"What do you want to eat?" He only shrugs in reply and you roll your eyes. "Helpful."

"Well I dunno," he thinks, "the usual? I can place an order to your place and we should get back before it gets there."

You hum in reply. "It's late though, you planning to stay over for the night?"

"...Sure."

Hesitation. He can only think of the last time you stayed the night. So long ago now, he'd avoided either of you spending the night at the others ever since. From fear? From preservation? Or from hoping that your frustration would break the dam first.

'I want you.'

'Mine.'

Words that flash through his mind unbridled. Sounds and touches that flood his brain

'My good boy.'

He swallows, trying to keep his eyes on the screen of the phone. Trying to hope the darkness blankets how red his face has turned.

"Hey could you pull over here?"

"Sure?" You'd glanced over at him and the question on your face evident.

He didn't elaborate though and you didn't ask.

You'd pulled into a mostly empty parking lot. Only a few cars left in front of a grey, drab building. Parked beside a flickering streetlight that continued for a few minutes before doing out completely. Certainly the furthest thing from being romantic by any means.

Nothing specific broke the tension, the unspoken rules.

But the next thing the either of you know is he's on your lap clawing at you aimlessly, pure desire fuelling him to do such pathetic things. Like telling you how horny he is and how bad he needs you.

You don't seem to have any problem with his confession though.

Responding in turn rather appropriately you'd think. And then your lips are against his and you're tugging at his clothes and touching his body like he's your last lifeline.

And then you're in the backseat of the car, his pants and boxers discarded into the back, your lips curled into a smirk against his skin.

And then you're here.

Doing things that friends certainly should not be doing.

"M' a good boy, promise! Please, I'll be your good boy!"

You'd imagined how his face would look all fucked out all but a million times in the dead of night, thinking about things you certainly should not have been thinking about.

But you'd never know that your imagination would do absolutely no justice to the real thing.

To his lips slick with your spit and his skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. Eyes fluttering like he's fighting to merely keep them open with every sensation he's feeling.

"Pretty~" you mutter.

Bite marks and hickeys all over his neck and collarbone-good thing it's nearly scarf season. Or bad thing, you're not sure you want him to hide these or if you want him to parade them around, show off your claim to him to everyone.

"So fucking pretty it's not fair-" a high, needy whine climbs up his throat and he lets it, because you don't even have to say it, he knows how much you love hearing how good you make him feel.

His eyebrows tug together as if in concentration. Concentration to stay sane while you let him fuck into your hand.

You trail a finger over his cheekbone, collecting a tear while everything within him tries not to let this end, because it can't be over yet, he doesn't want it to be over yet and he's not sure he can go again until later-if there is a later.

You lick the tear off your finger and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. "Not fucking fair to make me wait this long. Such a tease, such a whore."

Fingers press against his lips and he opens with zero hesitation. This is what you want, this is what he wants-more than anything.

You pull them out all too soon and replace your fingers with your tongue, letting him suck it into his mouth with a moan.

Your grip tightens, your hand moves faster and faster and his toes curl. Too much, too much-he can't...it can't, he doesn't want this to be over-

"No!"

His head falls into your neck with a strangled scream as he cums into your hand, staining your jeans and his shirt. You stroke him still to prolong the pleasure, milking him dry of everything he has before he lets out the first whine of protest and you stop.

"Please,"

His breath comes out in rushed pants, his head a jumbled mess of "more, please more-" followed by incoherent babbles and then, finally, "I can go again, wanna...wanna go again. Just...use me, use me however you want." as his hips work still, even if it only works against what he really wants, releasing pained whimpers all the while from the self-inflicted overstimulation.

You smile and he can practically hear it before he's flipped into his back, spread out and pinned against the slightly uncomfortable seats of your car as you press apart his legs, eyes roving over him before beginning to undo your pants.

"Use you, huh baby?"

Yes.

However you want. Use him however you want. That's all he wants. All he's wanted for so long.

The pads of your fingers press against his thigh, too close and he squirms with oversensitivity.

"We'll still be friends after this though right?"

He lets out a noise between a cry and an affirmation, eyes sliding shut as your body presses against his.

"Friends!" He gasps.

Your fingers lace together. You smile.

"But not just friends now are we...?"

a/n: y'all please forgive me if this is absolute bullshit. i feel like i haven't written anything for real in forever and i feel like rusty now lol. but lmk what you think (to possibly give me inspo to write more lol😭)

my taglist is here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @lemonhongjoong, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteer, @hahagay, @maru-matt, @d7dream, @amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix,

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with Levi for the first time after he came back

Just a little aftercare for this fic (click to read)

You still can’t believe your own luck. After all those years you endured this merciless war underneath the surface, all those years you prayed for your beloved husband to come back. And now he’s sitting next to you in the dim candle light far past midnight while reading through a tower of papers. And you simply cannot bring yourself to let go of him.

How are you supposed to ever let him go again when last time, you didn’t see him for years after?

“You should go to sleep, love. It was a long day”, he gently murmurs into your hair.

Looking up at him through sleep-deprived wet lashes still seems like a dream. Just the feeling of his warmth pressed against yours, his tight biceps between your eager arms, his minty smell you remember oh so well. It really seems like nothing changed.

But the look on his face tells you otherwise. Those dark circles that get enhanced by the dim moonlight don’t lie as well as the worry lines that now decorate his face. There is absolutely no doubt in the fact that Levi went through a lot without you. Your heart clenches uncomfortably inside your chest, arms holding onto him even tighter.

“I was wondering…If you’d mind sharing a bed with me…”, you mutter.

Why on earth are you acting so shy right now? The man sitting next to you is your husband, after all.

Levi lays the paper he just read through aside, hand lifting your chin up ever so gently.

“I don’t remember when I last slept a night, (y/n)”, he admits while putting strands of hair behind your ear mindlessly.

"It seems like I forgot how it works the day I lost you."

Your heart drops to the floor, eyes wavering in nothing but grief. What did he go through without you by his side, what horror did his grey eyes see? Out of instinct, you put your hand into his nape, draw his lips even closer to yours until they finally meet in a tender kiss.

“Let me show you how it’s done, then”, you whisper against his softness before you lift yourself up.

The air in the room around you seems to sparkle while your hand guides him to the plain single bed standing in the middle of the room. Countless nights, you imagined the love of your life back by your side. Countless nights, you tried to remember what his body feels like pressed against yours, his soft breath caressing your cheek every morning.

You let yourself fall onto the hard mattress, the bed not giving in an inch by your weight. Levi soon follows behind, his now dark eyes glued to your face.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed this. Since the day I had to leave you behind, I didn’t allow myself to fall asleep without holding you between my arms when I wake up.”

You feel like crying and giggling at the same time, a sad smile decorating your lips. Oh, how much you missed your husband, how much you longed for sharing a bed with him again.

“But now you can. Trust me when I say I’ll never leave your side again. No matter what. Even if you push me away.”

Oh, how good it feels to press your head against his firm chest, his steady heartbeat making you feel like home.

“I would never push you away, (y/n).”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and waist gently, pushes you even closer against his inviting body. For the first time since you finally got your husband back, you allow your eyes to rest, to take a break from constantly gazing at him.

Slowly but surely, you feel his steady breath against your forehead, how his firm muscles relax around you just before you yourself get consumed by darkness.

What a bittersweet and tender night it is, finally sharing the same bed with your husband after longing for him countless nights.

[prodbyton]

movie date ☆ l.sh

🎀cw.making out in public, inappropriate touching. 18+ mdni

boyfriend!sohee who takes you on a movie date, but you two barely get through 30 minutes before the thought of the movie is long forgotten.

“come sit with me,” sohee touches your thigh, feeling as if there was too much distance between you two. you re adjust your seat so you could get up, leaving your purse and sweater in the seat while you switch to the chair your boyfriend was on. it was a tight fit, but it was manageable and you quickly got comfortable. he holds you close, arm wrapped around your shoulders while the other rests in his lap, munching on the candies he bought at the snack station. he feeds them to you, holding the candy up to your lips and you open your mouth for him to place it between your teeth and on your tongue.

he wishes it wasn’t so dark, because he wanted to see you. all he could see was a half of your face, your lips shiny from your lip gloss, so kissable. you were focused on the movie that was finally starting, not noticing how your boyfriend was focused on you and not the movie.

there was a couple on screen, you thought they were so cute with how they doted on each other. you let out a cute that is so us, pointing at the couple on screen and looking at your boyfriend. he smiles at you, thinking you were adorable.

“we’re cuter though” he responds, leaving a small kiss on your cheek.

“of course”

sohee shifts his body a bit, his arm that's around your shoulder pulling you closer into him. he whispers your name, and you hum in response, not wanting to be louder than necessary so you don't draw attention from anyone in the theater.

sohee had you two sitting in the back, and conveniently there wasn't anyone else in the row. to be honest, there were only about 8 other people in the theater, all spread out in the lower levels.

his free hand goes up to your chin, lifting your head and tilting it slightly so he could kiss you. it was a quick kiss, his lips leaving yours before you could fully process. he chuckled at the stunned look on your face, lips parted, as if he had just kissed the breath out of you with just one kiss.

"what was that for?" you giggle, trying you analyze his expression despite it being dark.

"you're just cute. wanted to kiss you" he shrugs, and you turn back to focus back on the movie. it only lasts a second though, because sohee is grabbing you by your chin again and pulling you in for another kiss. this time it was slow, giving you time to kiss him back before he was bringing the hand on your chin to rest on the side of your jaw, holding you in place.

his tongue slides across your bottom lip and you let him in, both of your tongues colliding. he holds you tight, pressing his face deeper into yours as he kisses you. it was desperate, and sloppy. you bite his lip, before kissing the flesh and slipping your tongue into his mouth. the hand that was on your jaw moving down to your throat, then down to your chest. he squeezes your boobs through your shirt, loving the the little gasp that leaves your lips.

your hand moves to rest on his thigh, the other moving to where his hand was groping you, keeping his hands there while you sucked on his tongue softly. your hand traveled up his thigh some more, ghosting over his growing bulge. he groans into your mouth, hand on your boob squeezing harder.

things were getting heated, and you forgot you two were in public for a moment. sohee was completely lost in you, not letting you pull away for a break, just letting you breathe heavily into his mouth in between kisses. you were almost brought back to your senses when his hand moved down past your waist and between your shut thighs, dangerously close to your core, that was undeniably soaking wet.

it was easy to become in your own world when you're with sohee, the way he makes your brain fog up whenever you two are together, especially in moments like this, when his hand is adding a delicious pressure to your core without giving you any real release, that makes you delirious. you bite his lip again, holding back a moan at the pressure. your own hand squeezing his cock through his jeans and he has to stop himself from moaning out loud.

you two were barely kissing anymore, tongue in each others mouths moving around at no real rhythm. it's when his fingers tease the hem of your pants that you come to your senses, that you two were in a movie theater, with other people around, and security cameras. you pull away from his mouth, trail of saliva connecting you two as he chases your lips.

with hooded eyes you look at him, his eyes glossed over and his lips swollen. you take your hand off his dick and use it to take his hand away from your pants, and he gives you a look that resembles a hurt dog.

"not here," you hold his hand in yours, and he nods in agreement. the both of you would rather not get in trouble with the law for attempting to fuck right now, despite how needy you were.

the two of you quickly collect yourselves as much as possible, making sure you didn't look suspicious when you left the theater and made your way to exit the building.

you two might not have watched a movie that night, but a movie was definitely made :)

may or may not be based on real events... thought it was fitting bc i feel like sohee would love super sloppy makeout sessions 🫣🤭

[tikosblogg]

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

[jobean12-blog]

Neighborly Love

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,446

Summary: Bucky is your new neighhor and tension has been building since he  moved in so when the water in his apartment stops working he comes to you first. 

Author’s Note: So my dear love @mickeyhenrys made this edit for me and it sparked an idea because omg it’s glorious and Bucky in glasses is just 🔥🔥🔥and it all happened while we were thirsting over the recent pics of Seb and his MAN BUN! YUM! Thank you so much love and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you darling Daisy🥰

Warnings: Fun, flirty, some fluff, some tension, the doorbell is a pain in the butt, i-mpl-ie-d s-e-x-y time

The below edit is NOT MINE: credit goes to @mickeyhenrys thank you again my lovely 

I’m also including the pic of Seb and his beefy bun below the cut because YES

After a long debate with yourself over whether or not you want to walk to the bathroom in just your tee shirt and panties you decide to make a run for it so you can wash up and change all at once.

With that decision, you open your bedroom door and step into the hall, about to walk to the bathroom when it’s door opens.

Bucky freezes in the doorway when he sees you, his eyes running down the length of your body.

“Mornin’ doll,” he says before clearing his throat. “Sleep ok?”

His long hair is curled around his ears, still wet and sending droplets of water dripping onto his bare shoulders that converge into a glistening trail down his naked chest, zigzagging through his sculpted abdominals before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.  

Jeans that hang low enough to reveal the defined V-cut of his hips.

He raises his arm, towel in hand, and starts to dry his hair, drawing your eyes to his flexing bicep.

“UGH!”

You push him out of the way and slam the bathroom door behind you.

“Guess that’s a no,” he mutters before walking back into the living room.

Once you’re washed up and you’ve used the bathroom you stomp back out, having forgotten all about changing.

You walk over to him and shove his glasses at his chest, hard. “You forgot these in the bathroom.”

“Doll?” Bucky asks in confusion.

“You’re over here, using my shower, walking around like that,” you mutter as you clang angrily around the kitchen.

“Did I miss something?” he asks from the doorway.

“Put a shirt on Bucky,” you snap, keeping your back to him.

“Only if you put on some shorts and a bra doll face,” he replies with a chuckle.

You suddenly go still, remembering you’re only wearing your panties under your oversized tee. Whirling around with the intention to slip past him, you glower but when you reach the doorway he blocks your path, maneuvering you against the wall.

He raises an arm above your head and leans in, the clean scent of your shampoo in his hair. Your eyes travel over his skin appreciatively and when you meet his gaze you find him staring down at your legs. Your thighs rub together instinctively and he lets out a grunt filled with desire.

You try to unjumble your thoughts, the tiny rational part of your brain yelling at you to run.

But everything else is too loud.

“Bucky?” you breathe out and your eyes fall to his mouth.

He lifts his other hand and gently brushes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, in the process bringing your face closer to his. Goose bumps erupt across your skin at the scrape of his calluses and your mind fills with thoughts of how those hands would feel on the rest of your body.

You breathe out his name once more as his head dips, his lips just brushing along yours when the doorbell rings.

With a muttered curse, he retreats, his eyes filled with the promise that this isn’t over.

“I’ll get it,” you squeak.

He catches you by the arm to stop you.

“I’ll get it doll face,” he rumbles, letting his eyes sweep down your body. “No way I’m lettin’ anyone else see you like this.”

You nod with wide eyes and hurry back to your bedroom, quickly glancing back to watch as he lifts his shirt over his head and shoves his glasses onto his face.

“Who was it?” you ask when you return, now dressed in leggings and a new shirt.

“The landlord,” he answers. “My water should be fixed by five.”

“Ok, great,” you say with far too much cheer. “Coffee?”

“Sure, thanks doll,” he says as he takes the hair tie from his wrist and secures his hair at the base of his neck in a small bun.

You stare for a moment too long before looking away and trying to focus on making the coffee.

A few minutes later you walk into your small living room, mugs in hand and sit next to him on the couch. You place the steaming coffee down on the small table and snuggle into his side.

“Thanks again,” he says.

“For what?”

“For letting me crash here and take a shower.”

“Of course,” you tell him. “I’m just glad one of us has working water to use. It seems like everything goes wrong all at once in this building.”  

Your gazes hold for a second before he reaches for his coffee. When he sits back you lean into him again.

“There’s a whole lotta couch ya know doll,” he teases.

“You’re warm and you smell nice,” you pout even as you push yourself away from him.  

He goes to reach for you so he can tuck you back against him but unfortunately during all the shifting you manage to spill a spot of your coffee on his shirt.

“OH MY GOD,” you screech as you plop your coffee back on the table, spilling more, before you grab his shirt and pull it away from his body. “I’m sorry! Are you ok?”

He carefully places his coffee mug down and gives you a lopsided smirk.

“Pretty sure that was my fault,” he says sheepishly. “And I’m fine doll. Don’t worry.”

Your fingers slip higher and you lift the wet fabric, searching his skin for any redness.

His stomach muscles flex under your touch.

“Are you sure?” you whisper, finally dragging your eyes away from his skin.

“I’m sure,” he replies, his voice gruff.

Suddenly, the air feels too thick and the feel of him under your fingers, the heat from his body and the way his eyes shine with desire makes it hard to breathe.

You lick your lips, needing to kiss him.

His head dips to yours as you move upward and then his mouth is on you, frantic and hungry.

Strong arms circle around you, his hands splayed over your back as he pulls you closer until you’re straddling him.

You roll your hips against him, feeling how much he wants you. Your hands dance along his chest and reach behind his head to tug his hair free of the tie, letting it spill out around his face before you slide your fingers through the silky strands. His glasses go askew and he pulls away just fast enough to rip them off and drop them on the couch.

His large hands smooth down to your waist to grip your hips and you feel the pressure of him holding you down as you grind over him again and again. Tightening his hold, he lifts his hips, increasing the pressure.

With every roll of your hips you grow needier and his grip turns bruising.

“I need to come Bucky,” you murmur against his lips.

He growls your name, and then kisses you again, keeping your hips in constant motion over the hardness between his legs.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his cheeks flushed.

“Please,” you whine, your fingernails digging into his skin. “I need you. I need you inside m…”

Ding Dong

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he growls.

You’re still seated in his lap, your heavy breathing the only sound when the bell buzzes again.

“Don’t move,” he commands as he gently lifts you up.

He adjusts himself in his jeans and grabs his glasses, pushing them up and over his nose. With one last longing glance he starts to walk toward the door.

“Bucky wait!” you call quietly.

He stops and looks back as you hop off the couch and go to him. You press your body along his and reach up to fix his hair and adjust his glasses.

“There…,” you say. “Your hair was a bit mussed and your glasses were crooked.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin then grabs you around the waist, presses you so close that feel every inch of him and kisses you until you’re breathless.

Third buzz of the bell.

He stomps away and opens the door with too much force, making you giggle. Then you hear him saying a lot of “uh huh, ok, that’s fine, yeah, yeah,” and then the door slams shut and the lock clicks.  

“Was that the landlord again?” you ask as he stalks toward you.

He nods but doesn’t elaborate and when you open your mouth to ask more questions he presses a long finger against your lips.  

“It’s fine,” he says. “Now…”

He starts walking you backward toward the couch and sits, pulling you down over his lap.

“Where were we?” he murmurs with a whisper of his lips along yours.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @lookiamtrying @goldylions @sstan-hoe @late-to-the-party-81 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @randomfandompenguin @seitmai @littleseasiren​ 

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Law Reader x Record of Ragnarok

Where they fight in Ragnarok and stun many with their powers.

And Corazaon, I forgot how to spell his name-, is in the Audience as well-

-Bepo was snoring quietly behind you as you were leaning against him, your hat pulled over your eyes, as you were relaxing for a short while, preparing in advance for your battle.

-Brunnhilde asked you to fight for humanity in Ragnarok, to ensure humanities’ salvation, and while at first you weren’t going to accept, because you had questioned what humanity had done for you, thinking back to your childhood when you were still alive.

-However, when Corazon, who had been walking over to meet up with you and the rest of your crew, slipping on nothing and falling backwards and somehow set himself on fire, you agreed to fight, as you didn’t want to lose those you were closest to, not again.

-Now backstage, waiting for your turn, only Bepo was with you, serving as your pillow, but also as your security blanket, keeping you calm. You had faith in your skills and abilities, especially after Brunnhilde told you that your abilities with your Devil Fruit could be used, since it was a part of you when you died, so you knew that you were going to win, but there was always a chance, and that had you a bit nervous.

-When it was time, Bepo hugged you, not wanting you to go, but you just smiled, “I’ve got this- go join Cora-san and the others.” He sniffled softly, agreeing to your command and he headed off as you headed out into the arena.

-You were different than the warriors who came before you, you didn’t seem as jacked as many of them were, despite the long sword you held to your shoulder and your cocky but mysterious looking smile on your lips.

-Your opponent was arrogant and rude, reminding you a bit of men you had met in the past, as he laughed at you, thinking you were a weakling due to your smaller size compared to other competitors.

-You weren’t bothered, a soft chuckle leaving you while you heard Bepo, Cora-san and the others all shouting behind you, being irate for you, calling your opponent names. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at their antics.

-When the match started, you smirked, holding your free hand out in front of you, “Room!” a dome appeared around the two of you as many shouted, wondering what it was before you quickly charged, drawing your sword and sliced through your opponent, but there was no blood, and he wasn’t dead.

-your crew cheered as you tossed your opponent’s head up and down like a ball, making him yell, “What the hell did you do? Put my body back together and fight me like a warrior!!”

-You did as he asked, reforming his body before you were quickly on him, not giving him a chance as a smirk appeared on your face, “I’m a pirate- not a warrior.” Before you took his head from his shoulders, the correct way this time.

-Your crew cheered loudly, and you rolled your eyes as Cora-san slipped and fell into the arena, landing hard and you came over to help him up, dragging him backstage to patch him up again.

-Zeus was furious at the outcome, seeing the ability you used, and tried to dispute the result with Brunnhilde, who provided him proof that your Devil Fruit ability was something you had when you died and ascended to Valhalla- it was legal as it was a part of you.

-While your crew was celebrating in your waiting room, with you just nursing a mug of booze, being held in Bepo’s arms, the tournament came to a standstill as they had to go over the rules on what was allowed or not, but that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying your drink and the antics of your crew.

[loquaciousferret]

Over And Done With

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: persistent but not dubcon or noncon. javi being a cocky rude asshole (you all know my Javi by now) smut 18+, oral (f receiving) fingering, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, sexism

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Javi is still my leading man guys... Enjoy this little piece of filth. Thank you for over 1k on my other two Javi oneshots, so grateful! Thanks to Lucy and Gi as always for thots with me ;)

Playlist: Dark But Just a Game - Lana Del Rey | Less I Know The Better - Tame Impala | Business - Catfish and the Bottlemen | Californication - Red Hot Chilli Peppers

You waited until the office was nearly empty. That wasn’t a deliberate choice, simply a consequence of how long it took you to pluck up the nerve to face Agent Peña and tell him that the meaningless sex you two had been having for the past few months was over.

You knocked on his door and he drawled to come in. 

You opened it and crossed the threshold to his office timidly. He was standing at a filing cabinet, rifling through papers, a tight white shirt stretching over his wide shoulders and strong biceps- Stop it. You tell yourself.  

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He says, his gaze rising to meet yours. You don’t miss the way his eyes trail up and down your body shamelessly, fixing for a second on the exposed skin of your thighs, and again on your chest. 

“We need to talk.” You say firmly.

He doesn’t even attempt to hide the insolent roll of his eyes. He loosens his tie and reaches for the cigarettes on his desk.

“Really?” He says, irritated. 

“This… Arrangement between us. It’s over.” 

“Wow.” He says, sarcastically. “And the hits just keep on coming today. What put that stupid thought in your head then, huh?” 

You narrow your eyes. Why does he always have to be such a dick. You ignore the question.

You make your way towards his desk and reach into your purse. You retrieve a set of handcuffs and clatter them onto the tabletop.

“You forgot these in my bedroom.” You say, feigning nonchalance.

“I didn’t forget them. They were there for safekeeping.” His smirk is growing with each comment he throws at you.

“Well, I won’t be needing them anymore.” 

He has a smug and infuriating expression. “No, keep ‘em. They’re a parting gift.”

“They aren’t yours to give. They’re the property of the US government.”

“Riiight.” He agrees, in a mocking tone.

You turn to leave and hear him sigh. “Thanks for stopping by, sweetheart. My place or yours tonight?” 

“Peña-" You huff in frustration, turning to face him. "Have you not listened to a word I said? We are done.” 

He takes a lazy draw of his cigarette, not wiping the taunting smirk off his face the entire time.

"No, we're not." He shoots back.

You sigh. "Why do you have to be so difficult? It's not a big deal, we don't even like each other, in fact, I barely tolerate you, so-"

He cuts you off "Then why do you keep coming back for more?"

You shake your head and turn away from him, not pleased with the direction of conversation, and desperate to get out before he can work his magic on you. But he stalks towards you, and though you had nearly reached the door he is spinning you round to face him and presses your back into it instead.

"I-"

"Shhh," He coos. "I know why. You crave me. Like an addict needs a hit, baby."

"No, I-"

"Yes. That's why you beg me for it. That's why you give yourself to me, any time, any place." His voice has dropped to a whisper and he is so close to you, his hot breath causes goosebumps to raise on the surface of your skin.

"You see how your body reacts to me?" He smirks, "I haven't even touched you, cariño."

"Just admit it." He urges you.

You somehow gather the resolve to shake your head, and a passing thought tells you that you should have attempted this in a more public place so he couldn't accost you like this and throw the whole conversation off track.

You reach out to push him away and create distance between you, trying to escape from the overwhelming cloud of his scent that envelopes you. Citrus, tobacco, sea salt, gunpowder.

"Please, Javi, no, I-"

He takes you by the wrist to stop you from pushing him, and his other hand lifts up your chin and forces you to look into his eyes. They are dark with lust and menace.

"Fine, baby, we can stop." He says, a sweet tone to his voice that you know is too good to be true. "On one condition."

"What?" You respond, somewhat breathlessly, still lost in the sensation of his heady presence.

"You let me slide my fingers up your skirt. If you're not dripping wet for me, I'll let you go."

You know that arousal has been growing between your legs ever since he invaded your personal space. It was an animalistic reaction, but one that betrayed your true feelings, leaving you vulnerable to the dominating Javi. Your thighs were clenched together in an attempt to relieve some of the tension, but it wasn't working.

"Don't be ridiculo-" You begin to protest.

"I'm not. Stop trying to deny your body what it wants. What you want. You want me."

When he slips a large palm between your thighs and begins to gently prise apart the tight grip you have them locked in, you know you are completely beat. One touch from him and you will fall to his mercy, desperately chasing the pleasure you know he is capable of giving you. And this reminds you exactly why it is so hard to ever break things off with Javi. He is utterly relentless, and there are no rules when he is in charge. He never gives you a fair chance.

A small moan escapes you, and he chuckles. You hate that in this game you are trapped in with him, you can never help yourself from showing your cards too early, always emboldening him further to take from you what he wants. And he is right, you do want it too, as destructive as it is to give yourself to someone like him, you can't deny the way he makes you feel, and you end up right back where you started every time you attempt to withdraw to a safe distance.

His fingers graze the hem of your panties, then, he must change his mind, withdrawing them. You whine, giving away more and more just how much you desire his touch. You are surprised when he is dropping to his knees in front of you.

"Jav-"

"Shh, baby." He says. He takes the fabric of your skirt and pushes it up your legs, slowly exposing your skin inch by inch until it is bunched around your hips and he is separated from your arousal by only your thin red lace panties.

"Who are you wearing these for if you weren't planning on being with me today?" He says, licking up your thighs and sucking lightly at certain spots.

You whine pathetically at the sensation and his lips tickle you as they curve into a smirk. He puts a hand between your legs and seperates them further, putting his head between your thighs and pressing his face into the fabric. He inhales deeply and groans, sending vibrations through you, making you throb with desire.

"I'm gonna taste how turned on you are for me." He whispers.

He hooks fingers into the waistband of your panties and drags them down your legs. The cold air hitting your hot, wet core makes you shiver. You step out of your underwear and he stuffs them into his pocket.

He returns to being nestled between your legs and places kisses to your inner thighs, making his way closer to the spot which needs his attention at a teasingly slow pace.

You manage to keep quiet and resist from begging him to hurry up.

Thankfully, he finally licks a wide stripe up your entire core. He literally moans gutturally as he does so. He sends your head into a spin every single time he eats you out like this, so enthusiastic and starving for you.

He alternates between licking up and down your folds and stopping to focus on your clit at the top, sucking gently, circling his tongue around it, constantly varying his pace so that every time you started to get used to the sensation, he would have you whining again by changing up the intensity. He then focusses on your tight entrance, inserting his tongue and then fucking you with it, licking up the arousal leaking from you.

Then, he grips your thigh, and swings your leg over his shoulder to improve his angle of access to you. This practically makes your knees buckle, and he has to hold you up with both hands as he continues to feast on you.

You start to feel your orgasm building and grip his hair, rolling your hips against his mouth to increase the pressure. He senses all of these changes in your movements and knows you are close, focussing his attention entirely on your clit in a steady rhythmic fashion that he knows will take you over the edge.

It doesn't take long before you are shaking with the intensity of the orgasm. But he doesn't stop, harshly warning you to quiet down because there are still people around the embassy and these sounds are only for him. He sucks on your clit gently until it is overstimulated and tears begin to form in your eyes.

Eventually, he pulls back, but you only get a moment of reprieve until he is jamming two fingers inside your cunt to replace his mouth. Your wetness makes it relatively easy to take but you still mewl at the sensation. He curls them and their length allows them to hit a spot deep inside you.

Everything about being intimate with Javi is levels of intensity far beyond what you can achieve alone, or that you ever have with previous lovers. He brings a whole new meaning to the idea of pleasure. You don't tell him this. His ego is big enough.

He brings a thumb to your clit and brushes it gently, continuing to torment you with his two fingers which entered you, scissored and curled, slipped back out of you, and thrusted back in. His pace was inconsistent, so you were left on the edge, never knowing what to expect. As he starts to rub your clit in circles, you notice how sensitive you are from your first orgasm.

"Javiiii-" You drag out the syllable as you whine loudly in pleasure.

"You're gonna cum again before I fuck you." He growls.

"No, no, please." You say, your legs shaking. He combats this by pinning your thighs to the wall with his free forearm, keeping you stuck there.

"It wasn't a question."

He kisses at your skin, wherever he can reach, as he continues to work you with his hand. He presses his lips to your hipbone, then trails down to the thickness of your upper thigh, his moustache tickling you as he travels downwards. Then, he sucks lightly, and you gasp. He nibbles and sucks harder, trying to leave marks. He has a somewhat possessive side to him, revelling in marking your body whether it be with hickeys or handprints. Not in places that others will see, just in private spots where he can admire them for himself.

You know he is trying extra hard to be generous just to remind you why you aren't going to cut him off. He is taking his time on you to prove to you all the reasons why you won't really stop seeing him. It is obvious that this is his ulterior motive, and yet it is working, you start to think you were too rash in your decision to end things.

His tongue flicks over the painful marks he has sucked and bitten into your inner thighs. It tickles and this adds to the once again growing sensation of an orgasm, one that you know is going to rip through you with even more ferocity than the first.

You are whining and moaning his name, panting as the tension inside you reaches a peak, ready to snap at any second and have you unravel all over him.

When it does happen, you think you go slightly dizzy. Your mouth falls open into a scream that never actually leaves your room. You are overwhelmed into silence, your body twitching. You curl your hands through his hair and try to pull him away from you, and he finally obliges.

He takes you by the hand and pulls you away from the door, locking it behind you and moves you both towards the desk. He sits you on top of it, on top of no doubt important government documents. He unexpectedly kisses you on the head, and even in your blissed out post-orgasm state, you note that this is the first time he has ever done this.

But the moment is over quickly, as he is soon spreading your legs again, unbuckling his belt and releasing his erection from his stupidly tight jeans. It doesn't matter how many times you sleep together, you never get used to the size of it every time you see it.

He unbuttons your blouse and slides it off your arms. He stares and takes you all in.

"All for me." He says, dipping his head to the curve of your cleavage and plastering kisses there, stroking his cock against your folds to gather lubrication. You moan at the feeling of it sliding through your sensitive parts, nudging your clit and making you hiss sharply. The next time he comes down to your entrance, he stills. He presses a hand onto your chest to lay you backwards onto the desk. Then he plunges inside you at full force and your back arches from the table top instantly.

You exclaim and he presses a hand to your mouth. The other is gripping one hip, pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust. He has chosen to start with an immediately punishing pace. You know that he is impatient now, having spent so much time on you, that he wont want to draw out his own pleasure, and will use your body now without mercy to reach his own release.

The desk screeches against the floor and some objects roll off the side. This doesn't so much as cause him to falter. He is hyper-focussed on the task at hand, his gaze fixed on watching himself slam in and out of you, only occasionally looking up at you to appreciate the look of pleasure on your face for a moment before looking back down at the place the two of you are connected.

He removes the hand from your mouth and takes it to the other hip, thrusts now impossibly forceful with him pulling your whole body weight against him with every single one.

You wrap your legs around his back and lock your ankles together, pushing him slightly deeper inside you and he grits his teeth. "Fuck, cariño. Tan apretada."

"So tight," He repeats, "You like it, huh?"

You can't respond, too consumed by pleasure. You nod pathetically and you can feel his smirk burning down on you, you know he is watching your face now, admiring the way he can make your expression twist, your mouth fall open, and your eyes squeeze shut.

The feeling is so intense that you are growing numb to it, he is rhythmically slamming against your deepest spots, causing you to whine and whimper, your limbs going slack.

He always becomes more vocal as he reaches his climax, and he does so now, You like my cock, huh? You come in here just to get fucked like this? I know you wanted it, sweetheart.

"You gonna take my cum inside you like a good girl?" He asks

You nod at the last one. "Please, Javi."

"You gonna beg for my cum?"

You whine, half in protest, half because he has somehow changed the angle to result in even more devastating thrusts.

"Do it." He demands.

You perform for him how he asks, using up what little concentration you have to plead in a sultry tone that he fill you up. That he make you his. That he remind you who you belong to.

Soon, he is grunting, profanity spilling from his lips as he tenses up inside you, filling you with hot spurts of his cum.

He stays inside you and leans down, kissing at your neck and chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and play with the soft curls at the back of his neck. The pair of you rarely indulge in a tender moment after sex. He seems so different today.

He does pull out after a few moments, and you pout at him, disappointed by the sensation and missing the feeling of him buried inside you. He smiles and runs a finger over your downturned lips. "Can't stay in there forever. You don't think I want to?"

He takes a few steps away from you, turning away from you to readjust himself. When he faces you again, leaning lazily against the wall, lighting a cigarette, watching you re-dress, his demeanour has completely changed back to usual. His cruel, taunting smirk has returned when you look up at him, straightening your skirt and readjusting it to where it should be just below your mid-thighs. He looks and notices one of the bruises he left just peeking out from under the hem.

You stare back but you don't have any words for him. He fills the silence, walking towards you.

"You see? We’re done when I say we are done, princesa. I'll see you later."

He pats your ass dismissively, sending you on your way, and you exit his office on weak legs. You should have known this would happen, you and Javi still aren’t over and done with yet.

My other smutty Javier Pena works: Partners | Little Games | All Work, No Play

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