#I don't know this just popped into my head

[peachylynnie]

what jewelry they like on you

word count: ~300-400 per lead contains: lads men x non!mc reader, established relationship, they all adore you, jewelry descriptions, fluff, suggestive themes (sylus, rafayel, and caleb), and did i mention fluff? make it toothrotting. a/n: it's midterm season so headcanons it is. again, these are headcanons so i'm not saying i'm right. just my silly little interpretations. inspired by my impulsive buy of a bracelet the other day. no, my wallet hasn't recovered. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! tagged: @vvintqz (a little headcanon for xavier, lmk if u want me to stop tagging) lads masterlist

sylus

necklaces all the way

has a preference for silver chains with red or black charms

it's his signature colors on your pretty neck

loves it even more when the charm rests between your collarbones

if you want his nose to bleed, wear a long necklace

yes, the one that goes all the way down to your chest

but if you really want to get him going

wear a choker

doesn't even have to be a chain type or have charms

if it's a choker, he'll fold, like dogs to a bone

you can't blame him

it enticingly accentuates the rest of your neck and collarbones, the two places he likes to leave marks on

don't worry if you're hypoallergenic (like me)

he only ever gets you the finest of materials, even if you point out the cost

not that you mind or anything

"sylus," you whine.

you're going to be late. again. all because of this silver-haired man who's refusing to leave your neck alone.

"sylus!" you gasp when he tugs down the choker, his dewy lips taking advantage of the newly exposed spot.

you're starting to regret wearing a choker (not really). you thought it went well with your outfit. and it did! it added a little pop to your look, and you were excited to wear it for the first time in a while.

"hey!" you squirm in his embrace when you feel the poke of his teeth. "no marks!"

"does it really matter, sweetie?" he asks nonchalantly before continuing his assault on your neck. he loves how his tongue occasionally meets with the smooth fabric of your choker. "this," he tugs on it some more, eliciting a soft whimper from you. "will cover them."

sighing, you make a mental note to apologize to your friends for being late when you meet them.

xavier

earrings

especially studs or the mini drop ones that come in cute graphic designs.

there's just something about the way the adorable little charms hang from your ears

really, he thinks they complement your face shape

and he loves to cup your face whenever

but when you wear the ones that are star-themed

he's looking at you as if you're the one who hung them up in the night sky

seriously, he's never seen anything more beautiful

it also strokes his jealousy (?) in a way (cuz yk he's all abt the stars)

but that's worth like...less than 1% of the experience

he just really loves seeing you wear them

don't worry if your ears aren't pierced

clip-ons are a thing, and he'll make sure to get that ones that are both high quality and comfortable

he also loves watching you put them on

his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. he tries to cover his rosy face when you lean towards the mirror.

you're adjusting the backing of your new star stud. furrowing your brows, you tilt your head to the side for a better look.

xavier swears he's never seen anything more beautiful in his life. here you are, making something so simple as adjusting an earring look so skillful and charming.

"done!" you secure the backing and spin around to show your boyfriend. "what do you think?"

"yeah," he nods softly. "i think you're glowing."

you giggle and embrace him tightly.

"thanks for surprising me with them," you chirp, peering up at him.

the stars on your ears shine. no different from your eyes.

"anything for you, starlight," he whispers, stroking your cheek with a thumb. "anything for you."

rafayel

bracelets

listen

we all know this man is a FIEND for our hands

i may not have all of his five-star cards

but tell me why it is that in all the ones i have, he's YEARNING for our hands at some point

jumps at every chance to help you put one on

has a thing for cuff bracelets

like the metal swirly ones that hold a jewel in the middle

they exude the sense of royalty in a way (he's a god so)

most definitely has designed some for you too

and by some, i mean numerous

what's really heartwarming about that though is that he collects the materials himself

the amount of seashells he has preserved for you

but back to him being down bad for our hands

there's something about the way cuff accompanies the bare skin of your wrist and gently presses against your pulse

he's in heaven whenever he nuzzles against your wrist and feels the cool metal graze his heated skin.

"wait," you squint at the bracelet rafayel just secured around your wrist. "did you design this?"

"yup," he answers with a puffed chest. "good eye, cutie. how'd you know?"

you roll your eyes lovingly.

"first of all, i'm your partner, raf." turning your wrist, you admire the intricate swirls of the cuff. "second of all, your works normally have a trademark."

"oh?" he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, his lips already tracing your wrist. "and what would that be?"

you try not to shudder when his siren eyes meet yours.

"isn't this from one of your lemuria collections?" you shakily gesture towards the sapphire seashell crested on top. "you always reference lemuria in your works, right?"

"wrong," his tongue darts out, savoring your quickened pulse as punishment for your incorrect answer. "it's not just lemuria i always reference in my works."

he tightens the cuff.

"it's you, cutie."

zayne

rings

he loves the subtlety of them

especially the ones made out of thinner bands

they bring out the beauty of your fingers

he loves the way they shine whenever you move your hands too

let's say the two of you are at a cafe

sitting across from each other and reading novels

except he gets distracted (in a good way) whenever your flip a page

your ring glimmers in the sunlight that's peeking through the window

oh wow, not only is there a halo over your head, there's a halo around your finger too

he can't help but reach out at some point

and trace your left ring finger

imagining what it would be like to gift you one

a simple one that conveys an impactful message

one he hopes you'll say yes to

and bound not only both his and your left ring fingers

but also your souls to each other

"zayne? are you alright?"

he snaps out of his thoughts, lifting his chin from his palm.

"sorry," he apologizes as smoothly as he can. "could you repeat that?"

you smile endearingly. his heart beats rapidly.

"i asked if you were alright."

"yes," he answers before clearing his throat. "yes, of course. why?"

"oh, it's just," you giggle. "you're still tracing my finger."

zayne immediately retracts his hand.

"sorry," he apologizes again. this time profusely. "did i make you uncomfortable?"

"no, no," you immediately reassure. "i liked it. it's just you were doing it for a while..." you pause before continuing. "i thought you were checking for dead skin or something."

zayne blinks.

"you thought i was checking for dead skin?" he repeats incredulously.

you nod slowly. now it's your turn to be flustered.

at that, he chuckles with a shake of his head and returns to tracing your left finger, ignoring your amusing assurances about how you always wash your hands thoroughly.

yes, he's most definitely going to marry you.

caleb

anklets

this totally wasn't inspired by that one scene in the main story where he pins our leg down with his evol

nope not at all

i don't know what you're talking about

he likes the ones that come with dangly charms

this is because he can hear you whenever you move

interpret that however you want

but really, he loves how the sound gets louder and louder

because that means you're moving TOWARDS him

he wants to gift you a whole bunch of charms

specifically apple and sky themed

it's over for him if you wear it while your legs are exposed

that man is on the floor, his hands haphazardly roaming up and down your bare skin

and when he notices the anklet with the charms that he gifted?

it's over for you

his fingers are slipping underneath the anklet, wrapping around your ankle, and pulling you to him

where's his face at?

uhhhhh

you're trying to control your breathing. you really are. but it's hard to when there's a man, an incredibly gorgeous one with lavender eyes deep enough to engulf you whole, settled in front of you, specifically in between your legs.

thankfully (not really), he hasn't done anything yet. he's just kneeling there with his metal fingers snaked around your ankle and his eyes transfixed on the anklet you decided to wear.

"uhm," you start, nervously shifting on the couch. "is there something wrong with my ankle, caleb?"

he finally looks at you. you can't tell if he's angry. definitely not with your foot resting against his broad shoulder.

"nothing's wrong, pips." he speaks after an eternity.

you sigh in relief. eager to get out of this compromising position, you try to put your foot down. keyword: try.

"caleb, what-"

"when did you put the charm on?"

"oh, uh," you notice him looking at the anklet again, but more at the apple charm. it has a snake coiled around it. "a while ago? i think as soon as you gave it to me."

he breathes in sharply.

you think it's over when he releases you. you're proven wrong when he grabs both of your ankles and drags you to the end of the couch, his chin dangerously close to your core.

"you really don't make it easy for me, pips."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Miracle IV

Aitana Bonmatí x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're up late

You're up in the attic when Aitana gets home.

That usually isn't a problem.

It's where you usually retreat to after school. You come in, say good afternoon to Aitana if she's in, eat a snack and immediately go up into the attic.

You've become a bit more sullen now that your friends are busy.

Conejita has entered the work force now, working at some florist in town, a few hours away from the little house Aitana bought so you rarely see Marta and Caro's daughter during the week.

Skatt is studying at some top rated school in Norway, drowning herself in her studies of bugs while Ingrid and Mapi fight to get her to go outside and see the sun.

You're still in school though. In all advanced classes, of course, but still school aged and catching the bus to the fancy school that Aitana is paying an extortionate fee to send you to.

You've withdrawn a little now that it's just you and her, disappearing up into the attic to study your star charts and maps and wait long enough for the sun to dip in the sky so you can use the telescope you spent all of last year saving up to buy.

Aitana doesn't have a problem with that.

You're a certified genius and sometimes you need alone time.

What she has a problem with is you being stuck up in the attic when she gets home from an event at gone three in the morning.

The ladder creaks under her feet as she hauls herself up through the hole in the ceiling, head popping up to see you sitting at the desk, documents in hand with your telescope set up through the skylight.

"It's late."

You jolt, dropping the papers in your hand and covering them with your star maps.

You spin in your chair, clutching at your chest.

"Mama," You say," You scared me."

"You should be in bed," Aitana continues, coming to stand in front of you," You've got school tomorrow."

You look away from her with an eye roll.

"We both know I don't need much sleep for school. You always say I'm intelligent."

You've been told you're intelligent for most of your life, a clear superstar in academics since your first year of school and you could already read and write and do simple multiplication and division.

You'd been streamlined into the most academic of classes and if it wasn't for Aitana insisting that you stay with your year group, you'd already be away at university.

"You still need rest," Aitana reminds you," And to rest your brain."

She cards her fingers through the loose strands of hair framing your face.

You're her mirror image in every way, the same eyes and nose and hair.

Aitana wonders briefly if she was ever this aloof with her own parents at your age and if she owes them apologies for it.

"Go to sleep, estrella," She says," We can talk more tomorrow."

You huff, pulling out of her grip and turning back to your maps.

They cover all the walls in the attic, completed and signed at the bottom with your name.

Aitana looks down at the ones on your desk, the ones not yet completed or not yet perfect enough for you to display on the walls of your little sanctuary.

Something peaks out from under one of them and she frowns.

She's already pulled it out before you've even noticed.

"Where did you get this?"

Aitana's voice is stern, one that you're not all too familiar.

You freeze, eyes wide in alarm.

You reach for the documents. Aitana holds them away from you.

"Where did you get this?" She demands again and you scoff.

"In the safe. Under your bed."

"You broke into the safe?!"

You roll your eyes. "It's not the most secure of passwords. Our birthdays? Please, it was easy."

"Drop the attitude!" Aitana snaps," Why were you rummaging around in there?!"

You stand up from your desk.

Neither of you are overwhelmingly tall but even at sixteen, you meet her height so you're eye to eye.

"They're mine!" You say and Aitana laughs.

"I think you'll find they're mine," She says," You certainly didn't sign them."

"Well they're my adoption papers! I deserved to see what they say!"

Aitana sighs, rubbing her temples. "Then you come to me! You don't go snooping around in my bedroom."

You huff, finally breaking eye contact to stare out of the skylight. "As if you'd tell me anything." You shove past Aitana, barging her shoulder on your way to the ladder," You never want to talk about them."

"Well, forgive me for not wanting to talk about my dead friends."

"Forgive me for waiting to know about my dead parents."

Aitana holds your gaze for a moment.

You're already halfway down the ladder, staring back at her with identical eyes.

The wound is still raw even though it happened sixteen years ago. The loss of her friends still weighs heavy. Aitana doesn't even know if she could look at you if you held even one feature of your parents.

"Estrella-"

"I'm going to bed," You cut her off," We'll talk in the morning."

[syluxs]

a moment of boldness

pairing: sylus/reader

summary: you and sylus have always been just friends--flirty friends, sure, but still just friends. that is, until you "accidentally" text him a request for a sexy picture.

notes: the banner used below is from starmocha

it was late, and you were feeling extremely bold.

sylus had always been your favorite person to flirt with--effortlessly charming, sharp-witted, and just cocky enough to make it fun. but tonight, for reasons you’d blame on exhaustion (or maybe just boredom), you decided to take things a step further.

so you sent the text.

y/n: send me something sexy :)

you stared at your phone, heart pounding. you could still unsend it. you could say it was a joke. or--

ding.

sylus: Did you mean to send this to me?

you bit your lip as you tried to suppress a smile, trying to decide how to play it off. before you could type a reply, another message popped up.

sylus: Should I be honored?

oh, he may be enjoying this.

y/n: oops. my bad. wrong person.

a lie. a stupid, dumb lie. but maybe it would save you from complete embarrassment, the feeling of regret and shame suddenly starting to bubble up in you.

sylus: Shame. I was just about to take my shirt off, too.

you stared. he was definitely messing with you.

y/n: oh don't let me stop you.

sylus: Oh? But it wasn’t meant for me

y/n: i mean, if you really wanna send one, i won’t stop you.

y/n: this is actually strictly for scientific purposes

you could already imagine the smirk on his face through the screen. sylus loved teasing you, and this was prime material. you pictured him leaning back, phone in hand, eyebrow raised as he typed out his next message.

sylus: Oh, so this is about science?

y/n: yep. purely educational.

sylus: Interesting. What exactly are we studying here?

y/n: so the effects of good lighting on abs?

a pause.

then--

sylus: You know, if you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask.

your face was burning. he was having way too much fun with this.

sylus was ridiculously attractive--something you’d been painfully aware of since the moment you met him. it was one of the main reasons you even entertained this back-and-forth in the first place. you weren’t the type to flirt for fun unless there was at least something there. and with sylus? yeah, there was definitely something.

but that didn’t mean you were about to let him have the upper hand.

y/n: ok fine.

y/n: i’m asking.

another pause. you stared at the typing indicator, your heart doing somersaults. then--

ding.

a photo.

you clicked it open, and--oh.

the lighting was almost too good, casting sharp shadows and highlighting every inch of his defined muscles. sylus was sprawled across his bed, one arm propped behind his head, the other was holding his phone at just the right angle. his shirt was completely gone, probably tossed aside somewhere out of frame, leaving his toned chest and sculpted abs completely exposed.

if this was someone else, you would've immediately blocked their cringey and sleazy ass. heck, you won't even bother sending them a message in the first place.

but this is sylus. and sylus is... sylus.

his skin was golden, the warm light accentuating the dips and curves of his lean, athletic build. every ridge of his stomach was sharp, his v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his... boxers? honestly, you weren't sure as you've never seen him wearing sweatpants or the likes. jeans were the most casual piece of bottoms you've ever seen him wore. anyway, whatever it was, it hung just low enough to make your mouth go dry.

his hair was tousled, just messy enough to look effortlessly perfect, like he had just run his fingers through it. strands fell across his forehead, making him look even more attractive.

but it was his expression that sent a rush of heat through you.

he wasn’t just smirking. he also has this half-lidded gaze, sharp yet lazy, look in his eyes, like he knew exactly what effect this was going to have on you. one side of his lips was curled upward, his jaw sharp enough to cut, and his entire posture screamed unbothered confidence.

it was a picture sent to ruin you. and it was working.

your brain short-circuited, hand flying to cover your mouth.

sylus: Scientific enough for you?

you swallowed. you could play this cool. you had to play this cool. you need to play this cool.

y/n: hmmm

y/n: needs further study

sylus: Oh? So you need more evidence?

y/n: obviously.

sylus: you’re insatiable.

y/n: and you love it.

sylus: I do.

your breath hitched. why did he not say something snarky? his reply felt like… more than just flirting.

before you could overthink it, another message popped up.

sylus: So… Still just friends?

your breath was caught in your throat. it wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this--little comments, teasing remarks that almost sounded serious.

sylus had always flirted like it was a game, but sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like there was more to it. like he was waiting for you to pick up on something you kept ignoring, 'cause why the hell would sylus want anything more with you? what would he even get out of this? he's sylus--gorgeous, tall, rich, he has everything. you were just… well, not to sound insecure, you.

so you did what you always did. you brushed it off.

besides, if he wanted something more, he will need to be more direct as you're not the type to just assume things.

y/n: friends who do scientific research together!! :DD

the typing bubble appeared. then disappeared.

you stared.

was he actually thinking hard about what to reply? sylus never hesitated. he always had a response ready, always knew exactly what to say to keep the conversation rolling, to keep you flustered.

but this time, he was pausing.

when the typing bubble popped up again, your heart pounded.

then--

sylus: Hm, okay think I like this study group.

your stomach flipped.

y/n: yeah….... me too.

you exhaled, staring at the screen a second longer than necessary. this was just how you and sylus were--pushing, teasing, toeing a line neither of you acknowledged. and yet, something about this felt different. seriously, you asking, and him sending a topless picture? is that still playing around?

this time, sylus didn’t reply right away. a full minute passed. then another.

you were overthinking, just because he always never lets you be the "last chat".

your phone buzzed. not a text.

a call.

sylus.

you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

you hovered over the answer button, heart racing. shit, your hands were even trembling a bit. from excitement? from nervousness? who knows.

then, before you could stop yourself, you picked up.

"so," his voice came through the speaker, smooth, amused, but lower than usual. "do you need a minute, or are you done losing your mind over me?"

your stomach flipped violently.

no, you were not gonna let him have the upper hand.

"w-what?" you stammered, cursing yourself immediately. and hung up.

but you were too flustered to speak with him right now.

sylus had always been a gentleman--not in an obvious, in-your-face way, but in the way that mattered. he never pushed, never demanded, never made you feel like you owed him anything. you never said it out loud, but you always appreciated that about him.

and even now, after sending you that picture, he wasn’t asking for anything in return. no sly requests, no hints that you should even the score. nothing.

maybe he just wasn’t interested like that. maybe this was just another game to him.

sylus was a lot of things--cocky, insufferable, too smooth for his own good--but he was also a big consent king. if he wanted more, he’d want you to say it first.

he didn't even hint that you should return the favor.

but now, you were thinking about doing it anyway.

your fingers twitched. would it really be that crazy?

he’d been teasing you all night, knowing exactly what he was doing. but what if, you turned the tables on him?

what if you made him flustered?

[be4chywritez]

never grow up | hughes bro.

hughes bros. x sister!reader

your brothers don't want to let you grow up.

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

warning: completely fucked up timeline

The living room is a mess of wrapping paper and half-eaten cupcakes, remnants of what your mom swore would be a “small graduation party” but somehow turned into a full-blown celebration. You’re still holding onto a stuffed bear in a tiny cap and gown, a joke gift from Ellen, but Quinn keeps side-eyeing it like he’s considering stealing it just to make a point.

Luke is lounging on the couch, flipping through your high school yearbook with a growing look of horror. “Dude,” he mutters, nudging Jack. “She has, like, a whole section in here. How do we not know about half of these people?”

Jack takes the book and immediately flips to the senior superlatives. “Oh my god,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Please tell me you didn’t get ‘Most Likely to Break Hearts’���I don’t think I can handle that.”

You snatch the yearbook out of his hands and smack him lightly with it. “Relax. It’s ‘Most Likely to Brighten Your Day.’”

Quinn, who’s been suspiciously quiet, speaks up from the kitchen. “Yeah, well. That’s worse.”

You roll your eyes. “How is that worse?”

“Because it means people are gonna miss you,” Quinn says simply, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes you pause. Like the realization is just sinking in for him, too.

And that’s when it hits you—this is your last summer before everything changes.

It starts when you casually mention that you’re making a packing list.

“I mean, I don’t need to bring everything,” you say, folding a t-shirt as Quinn watches from the doorway. “I’ll be home for breaks anyway.”

Quinn’s arms are crossed, his face unreadable. “Right,” he says flatly. “Because you’ll totally want to come back to Michigan instead of spending breaks with your college friends.”

You glance up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs, but the tension in his shoulders is obvious. “Just that once you’re gone, you’re gone.”

Before you can argue, Jack yells from down the hall, “Why do you even need a list? Just bring what you have now. Do they not have Target where you’re going?”

You groan. “Jack—”

“I mean, really,” he continues, appearing in the doorway. “What could you possibly need that isn’t already in this house?”

Luke suddenly pops his head in too, pointing at you. “And if you think you’re taking the good blanket from the living room, you’re out of your mind.”

You throw a sock at him. “I bought that blanket!”

Jim, who’s been passing by, doubles back and frowns. “Wait, wait—who said you were taking anything from the house?”

You stare at him. “Uh… me?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, well, maybe I decide what leaves this house, and maybe my decision is that you stay.”

Jack smirks. “Yeah, Dad. Ground her.”

Jim actually pauses, rubbing his chin like he’s considering it. “You know what? If she can’t leave, then problem solved.”

“Oh my god.”

It happens at the dinner table.

Tension has been simmering all summer, but tonight, it boils over.

Jack is picking at his food, Luke is sulking, and Quinn has barely said a word. Jim, trying to keep the mood light, asks a simple question:

“So, kid, excited for move-in day?”

The room freezes.

You swallow, already bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Quinn drops his fork. “Oh, great. Let’s talk about it.”

“Quinn—”

“No, really,” he cuts you off. “Let’s talk about how you’re leaving and we all just have to deal with it.”

Jack scoffs. “We’re allowed to be upset.”

“Yeah,” Luke mumbles. “It sucks.”

Something inside you snaps.

“Oh, it sucks?” you echo, voice sharp. “That’s funny—because I don’t remember any of you feeling bad when you left me.”

Silence.

Quinn’s brows knit together. “What?”

You shove yourself back, your back now flat on the chair. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. Did you all forget how this works? You left first, Quinn. You packed up and went to Vancouver. Jack, you left right after, and then Luke followed.”

Jack opens his mouth, but you steamroll right over him.

“And guess what? Nobody asked me if I was okay with it,” you continue. “Nobody sat me down and said, ‘Hey, we’re all leaving, but we know it’s going to be hard on you.’ No. You guys left, and I was just supposed to be fine.”

Luke shifts uncomfortably. “That’s… different.”

“Oh, is it?” you snap. “Because it sure feels the same.”

They all look guilty now.

Jim exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s got a point, boys.”

The weight of your words settles over the room, thick and suffocating.

You cross your arms. “So don’t sit here acting like I’m the bad guy for growing up. I learned it from you.”

And just like that, dinner is over.

Ellen has been quiet throughout dinner, letting the boys sulk and stew in their feelings. But when you throw down the ultimate truth bomb, she puts her fork down with a soft clink and just leans back in her chair, watching.

Jack shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. “Mom—”

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me,” Ellen says, taking a sip of wine. “She’s right.”

The boys look at her like she’s just committed some deep betrayal.

“But—” Luke tries.

Ellen raises a hand. “No. You don’t get to ‘but’ this. You all left her. And now that it’s her turn, you’re acting like she’s the one abandoning you.”

Quinn frowns at his plate. Jack rubs the back of his neck. Luke suddenly finds his drink very interesting.

Ellen sighs, a little softer now. “I get it. You love your sister, and you’re gonna miss her. But she’s not a little kid anymore.” She glances at you, giving you a small, knowing smile. “And you’re allowed to grow up, sweetheart.”

That’s when you feel the lump in your throat.

Jim, sensing the emotion rising again, claps his hands together. “Alright,” he says, standing up. “Dinner’s over. Boys, you will apologize when you’re ready. And if anyone else gets dramatic at the dinner table, I’m making you all sit at the kids' table for the rest of the summer.”

Jack huffs. “We don’t have a kids' table.”

Jim raises an eyebrow. “I will build one.”

Ellen just shakes her head, standing to start clearing plates. As she passes by you, she squeezes your shoulder gently—just enough to let you know she’s on your side.

Quinn was six, Jack was four, and Luke was two when Ellen and Jim walked through the front door with you bundled up in a tiny blanket.

Luke was still clumsy on his feet, gripping Quinn’s hand for balance as he stared at you with big, round eyes. Jack, ever the loud one, scrunched his nose. “She’s small.”

Quinn, the oldest, tilted his head. “How old is she?”

Ellen smiled, adjusting the beanie on your head. “Just a little younger than Luke.”

Jack frowned. “So she’s the baby?”

Jim nodded. “Yep. You’ve got a baby sister now.”

Quinn blinked at you, something protective already settling in his chest. “She looks squishy.”

Luke let out a little giggle, wobbling closer. His chubby hands reached out, poking at your cheek. Your tiny hand curled instinctively around his finger, and his face lit up like Christmas morning.

Jack, still suspicious, leaned in. “Where’d she come from?”

Ellen smoothed a hand over your head. “From a different family. But now she’s ours.”

Jack looked at Quinn, then back at you. “Do we have to keep her?”

Quinn smacked his arm. “Mom said she’s our sister, dummy.”

Jack huffed. “I’m just asking! What if she’s annoying?”

Jim chuckled. “Then you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Jack pouted. But then you made a tiny noise—something soft, a little curious—and Quinn’s hand was suddenly there, gentle against your back, like he already understood what Jack didn’t:

You belonged with them.

You avoid them. It’s not subtle, and you don’t care if they notice.

Jack walks into the kitchen for breakfast? You walk out. Quinn parks himself in the living room? You suddenly remember you have something to do upstairs. Luke tries to catch your eye across the dinner table? You focus really, really hard on your food.

At first, they pretend not to care. Jack scoffs and mutters, “She’ll crack first.” Quinn just sighs like he’s too old for this. Luke pouts but doesn’t say anything.

But as the days pass, it becomes clear: you’re serious.

Jim and Ellen, bless them, intervene before things get too ridiculous.

It’s a setup. You know it the second Jim corners you in the kitchen and says, “Need your help fixing up the boat.”

You’re about to refuse when he casually adds, “Jack’s already out there.”

You were twelve when Jack left for the NTDP.

He was throwing things haphazardly into his duffel bag, way less meticulous than Quinn had been. You sat on the floor by his bed, fidgeting with the strings on your hoodie.

“You’re really going, huh?”

Jack huffed a laugh, shoving more clothes into his bag. “Yeah, I mean… it’s not like I’m going to war.”

You frowned. “Feels like it.”

That made him pause. He turned to look at you, his usual cocky smirk softening. “Hey, don’t make that face.”

You tried to glare at him, but the lump in your throat made it hard.

Jack sighed, dropping onto the floor next to you. “C’mon, don’t be sad.”

You stayed quiet, picking at your hoodie. Jack nudged your arm.

“You know I’m gonna miss you, right?”

You scoffed. “Then don’t go.”

Jack groaned, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Ugh, you sound like Mom.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe because she’s right.”

Jack sat up, resting his chin on his knee. He studied you for a second before reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Listen, baby Hughes, you’re my best little buddy. And you know what?”

You looked at him warily. “…What?”

Jack grinned. “I’m gonna be a big deal one day, and when that happens, I’m taking you with me.”

You wrinkled your nose. “To hockey?”

“To wherever I go.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “Deal?”

You bit your lip, then nodded. “Deal.”

Jack grinned and held out his pinky. You linked yours with his, sealing the promise.

Of course, you didn’t know then that Jack’s world would get bigger, that he’d go from the NTDP to the draft to New Jersey. But you remembered his words.

Damn it.

When you step onto the dock, Jack is hunched over the open engine, frowning like he actually knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t. He’s wearing sunglasses and a backwards cap, and his shirt is already discarded on the deck like fixing the boat is some grueling manual labor.

You cross your arms. “I don’t see Mom or Dad supervising, so I’m assuming this is an ambush.”

Jack grins, but when you don’t smile back, his expression falters. He clears his throat. “Okay, fine. I may have—” he waves a wrench vaguely in the air “—suggested that Dad needed you out here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting you need my help?”

Jack scoffs. “No, I—” he stops, narrows his eyes, and exhales. “Okay, maybe.”

A beat of silence stretches between you.

Then, quieter, he says, “You’re really mad, huh?”

You shrug, crouching down next to him. “Not mad. Just… tired of feeling like you guys only get sentimental when it’s convenient for you.”

Jack nods, tapping the wrench against his knee.

“Fair,” he says eventually. “But, like—cut us some slack. We’re not good at this whole… feelings thing.”

You give him a look. “I noticed.”

He huffs a laugh. “But we do love you.” He hesitates, like he wants to say something else, then just nudges your shoulder. “Even when you’re being dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. Jack sees it and grins.

Small steps.

You were nine when Quinn left for Michigan.

He packed his bags carefully, making sure his jerseys were folded just right. You sat on the edge of his bed, hugging your knees.

“You’ll come back, right?” you asked, voice small.

Quinn stopped, turned to you. “Of course I will.”

“But not for long.”

He sighed, crouching down so you were eye-level. “It’s not like that, baby sis. I’m not leaving you—I’m just… doing something for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and Quinn immediately pulled you into a hug. “Hey, hey. You’ll be okay.”

You sniffed. “What if I’m not?”

Quinn held you tighter. “Then I’ll come home.”

He did. But never for long.

Then Jack left. Then Luke.

And now, it was your turn.

Ellen hands you the list. “Take Quinn. And please, real vegetables this time.”

You grumble, but before you can argue, Quinn’s already waiting by the door.

The car ride is quiet.

Then, out of nowhere, Quinn sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You blink, caught off guard. “For what?”

He grips the steering wheel. “For making you feel bad about leaving. That wasn’t fair.”

You swallow. “Yeah, well… it does suck.”

He nods. “It does.” Then, softer, “You’ll always be our sister. No matter where you go.”

Something in your throat tightens.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, trying to sound unaffected, “maybe I don’t want to be the baby forever.”

Quinn smirks. “Tough luck.”

You huff, but for the first time in days, the silence between you isn’t so heavy.

Ellen and Jim had taken Jack to some tournament, Quinn was away with the Canucks, and for the first time, it was just you and Luke.

You were thirteen, and he was sixteen, but it felt like an even bigger gap back then.

You weren’t feeling great that day—some stomach bug or something—but you had stubbornly refused to call Mom about it.

Luke had been playing Xbox in the other room when he finally noticed you hadn’t bugged him in a while. He found you curled up on the couch, looking miserable.

"Why didn’t you say anything?" he asked, frowning.

You shrugged weakly.

Luke hesitated, then sighed. "Okay. Come on."

You blinked. "What?"

He grabbed a blanket off the chair and threw it over you before lifting you up.

"Luke—put me down!"

"Nope," he said, hauling you up the stairs. "You have two choices: you can walk to bed like a normal person, or I can keep carrying you."

You groaned but didn’t argue. You were exhausted.

Luke tucked you in (with way too much effort, like he thought you’d try to escape), then disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with ginger ale and crackers.

You stared at him.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You’re being… nice."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Shut up and eat the crackers."

You smirked. "Are you gonna feed me, too?"

Luke groaned, dropping the pillow he was holding onto your face. "I take it back. I hope you feel worse."

But later that night, when you woke up feeling even worse, Luke was still awake, sitting on the floor by your bed with his phone.

"You need anything?" he asked groggily.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. "No."

Luke nodded and yawned. "Alright. Go back to sleep."

Luke drives. He doesn’t play music, which is weird for him. Usually, he’s blasting something obnoxious, forcing you to suffer through his terrible playlists.

He doesn’t say anything until you pull into the parking lot.

“I never thought about it like that,” he blurts.

You turn to him, confused. “What?”

Luke shifts in his seat. “That… you were alone when we left.”

His voice is small, guilty.

You sigh, staring out the windshield. “I didn’t want you guys to feel bad about it. You were chasing your dreams. It wasn’t like I wanted you to stay back for me.”

Luke frowns. “But you still missed us.”

“Yeah, dumbass.”

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

After a beat, he hesitates. “You know you can always come back, right?”

You roll your eyes. “I know.”

Luke nudges your shoulder. “We’ll visit. All the time.”

You smirk. “Promise?”

He nods, grinning. “Obviously.”

For the first time all week, your chest feels lighter.

You’re sprawled on the dock, staring at the stars. It’s just the four of you—Jack, Quinn, Luke, and you. The air is warm, the lake is calm, and for once, nobody’s arguing.

Jack exhales. “So. This is it, huh?”

You nod. “Yep.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, Quinn says, “We’re really proud of you, you know.”

You blink, caught off guard.

Luke nods. “Yeah. Like, so proud.”

Jack scoffs. “Even though you’re leaving us.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite in it.

Quinn nudges your arm. “We meant what we said. You’ll always have us.”

You swallow, feeling that familiar lump in your throat.

Then, because you’re still their little sister, you smirk. “Yeah, yeah. You guys are obsessed with me.”

Jack groans. “God, I take it back—go to college already.”

Luke laughs. Quinn shakes his head. And for the first time all summer, everything feels right.

Because no matter how much things change, one thing never will:

You’ll always be their sister. And they’ll always be your brothers.

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️☃️ triple silly / caleb x reader x zayne

synopsis; three high school friends eating apple flavored popsicles on the way home. surely, nothing too funny about that.. unless?

🍎 pomme's notes - an elaboration on this post from earlier! wrote this as a platonic fic, but interpret however you'd like!

⋆ 900 words / fluff / fem reader / 2nd person

it was stupidly hot today.

walking back home from school with zayne and caleb, you could feel yourself slowly melt under the warm weather — and judging from the sweat on zayne's forehead and caleb's flushed cheeks, you weren't the only one who thought so. panting, you stop in your tracks and call out to the two boys.

"i can't do this anymore. let's get popsicles from the convenience store."

the store was on your way home, and you could all get some (much needed) refreshments while replenishing your strength under the A/C. so with a nod, the three of you went to grab popsicles.

"pips come on, you know the apple one is my favorite — that was the last one! are you gonna let me suffer in this weather with no apple flavored ice cream?"

"that's too bad caleb, because last i checked, you also ate strawberry flavored stuff! my strawberry ice cream sandwich was gone when i got home yesterday and it sure as hell wasn't grandma!"

zayne smiled in amusement, wiping his face with a cloth as the two of you bickered. being a few grades ahead, he'd always have some trouble fitting in with his peers, and he didn't have many friends in his class. it was a stroke of luck when caleb saw him reading an anatomy book and asked about it — instead of the usual nerd comments zayne heard often, he was met with a curious purple gaze full of interest.

he found out that caleb was aiming to be a pilot and the two of them ended up hanging out often, studying and catching up together. eventually, he got to know who you were too ("you have to meet pipsqueak. she's really nice and kind but don't tell her i said that! that's totally against bro code and she'll annoy me forever."), and fast enough, the three of you were inseparable.

"zayne, tell him off! he's being insufferable!!"

your voice dragged him away from his thoughts, and he shook his head with a smile on his face, all while talking to the cashier.

"three apple flavored ice pops, please."

when the clerk handed him his change and the ice creams, zayne headed towards you and caleb. somehow, still bickering — but this time, the topic shifted from stolen ice cream sandwiches to stolen chips bag. it was the usual, and zayne wouldn't trade away the comfort he found in how casually you two treated him for anything in the world.

"zayne, she stole my chips last week! isn't it just cosmic justice if i steal her ice cream sandwich back?? come on, back me up here — wait, three apple popsicles? my man."

wrapping an arm around zayne's shoulders, caleb beamed. he opened his mouth expectantly when zayne handed him a frozen treat, and with a chuckle, zayne placed it up to the brunette's lips. you stomped your foot jokingly, a pout on your lips before you spoke.

"how come zayne feeds you but never me? life is so unfair."

"heh, that's bro code, pips. that and zayne can't even see you from all the way down there.. maybe if you grow a bit more, he'll consider it."

watching you glare at caleb with a soft chuckle, zayne hands you a popsicle and nods towards the door, encouraging you all to finally get back on the way home.

and it was just another summer afternoon, zayne observing silently as caleb picked at your height, and you tried to kick him in the shin. well, that was until you succeeded in your attempt, and caleb tripped forward, making his popsicle float with his evol, while he fell in a ridiculous pushup position. snickering at him, you don't notice zayne placing a hand over his mouth and trying his best to hold back laughter, not until you turn towards the older male.

"he's so lame — zayne? wait. are you laughing??"

somehow, your question was the thing that pushed zayne to the edge as he erupted in boyish laughter — a sound neither you nor caleb had heard before, a sound neither of you managed to pull out of him. caleb's ears reddened, though not without a smile growing on his face and a fake exasperated voice.

"come on, it was not that funny."

you quickly pushed caleb back down, trying to make zayne laugh more. yelping as he falls down again, the sound makes you laugh, thus making zayne laugh even harder — clutching his stomach at how silly the situation unfolding was.

caleb, embarrassed but in awe at how his usually serious friend was laughing, also started laughing, and you all made quick eye contact between yourselves. that didn't do much to re-establish a serious atmosphere, only encouraging the laughter to grow louder — until all that was heard was "it hurts, my stomach hurts, i can't breathe" from all three of you.

wiping a stray tear from your eye, you think to yourself that maybe you ought to trip caleb more often if that was the outcome.

🍎 pomme's final notes - please infold give us zaynecaleb as besties im begging i want to see them being bros together i want my bromance NOWWW

[arietem]

got me an angel

masterlist

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you had an awfully anxious day and jj makes it all better

fluff ♡

a/n: i keep using the cupcake nickname because i love it so much

Tonight was one of those nights when you just can't stop fidgeting, full of weird, nervous energy making you restless and on edge. There was no way you could finish your shift without bursting in fucking flames, so you faked sick and got out of the store early.

After taking a long, hot shower, you made yourself comfortable on the couch at the chateau, waiting for JJ to bring you some snacks. Your job for the movie night is to find something on Netflix worth watching, but nothing seems to grab your attention.

“Ya know cupcake, I can hear your loud ass brain from way over here.” JJ waves from the kitchen, where he is busy making popcorn, judging by the popping sounds coming from the microwave. You just blow a raspberry in his direction, pouting slightly.

When the microwave dings, JJ walks over to the couch, putting the bowl on the coffee table. Nudging you gently, he makes himself comfortable behind you, pulling you half on his lap. “I don’t know. Nothing.” You shrug, leaning back on his chest.

“Come on, I can tell something’s bothering you.” He starts playing with your hair, gathering it in his hands and twisting it, tugging a bit.

“I just, argh,” you sigh, “ever since I woke up today, I feel so anxious. Like I am just waiting for something bad to happen, you know?” You turn around to look into JJ’s baby blues, trying to ground yourself.

JJ craddles your face in his hands, kissing you on the top of your nose. “My sweet baby.” He brushes your cheeks with his thumbs.

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch more, instantly feeling relaxed. His body so close to yours emanates warmth, enveloping you like a soothing blanket. You snake your hands through the holes of his tank top, splaying your palms on his ribs.

He brings you even closer and you clasp your hands around his abdomen. “Mmm, you’re so warm Jayj,” you mumble in his neck.

He rubs circles on your back, just enjoying having you in his arms. The relationship you have is different than anything else you've experienced. And it's true for both of you. It is gentle and sweet, providing you with peace you didn't even know you needed.

JJ gives you a kiss on the top of your head, and takes your hands out of his shirt, whirling you around.

You try to protest but he steadies you by putting his hands on your shoulders and kissing the side of your neck. A shiver goes up your spine, making whatever you wanted do say stay silent on your lips.

“You just relax baby and let me do this for you.” JJ knows how overstimulated you get when your hair is in the way when you are already feeling anxious. His fingers on the nape of your neck tickle you and you start wiggling. He lightly flicks your shoulder for you to stop.

You obey his touch and try to stay still while he works on something behind you. After a few moments, he gathers your hair and starts braiding it.

You nearly melt when you realize what he's doing. Nobody has ever taken the time of day to soothe you the way he is right now. You can feel your eyes filling with tears at the thought of him paying attention to you doing your hear so he can recreate it.

"I'm not a professional so m'sorry if it's not perfect, but I know your hair bothers you sometimes, so…," JJ trails off not finishing his sentence. You subtly wipe under your eyes before speaking.

"How do you always know what I need?" you ask him earnestly. You really mean it. He is so in sync with you, it's like he knows what you crave before you even know it. You've never felt safer than you do when you're in his arms.

"I don't know, cupcake," he says tugging on your braid, "I just know you."

"I love you." You press a delicate kiss on his soft lips, tracing his jaw with your fingers. JJ whimpers softly in your mouth.

You deepen your kiss, bringing your hands upwards to his golden hair, your fingers getting tangled in the locks. The bowl of popcorn sits forgotten on the table, the tv remote buried in the couch cushions somewhere. JJ falls backwards horizontally and you land on his chest.

The two of you are breathless when you finally part. It's hot in the living room and both of you have a thin sheen of sweat on your foreheads. JJ's eyes flutter when he presses the pad of his finger on your full lower lip.

"You're the best thing that happened to me," JJ whispers. You know how hard it is for him to be vulnerable and the fact he is with you makes you want to cry the happiest tears. The look in his eyes and the expression on his face say so much more than an i love you ever could.

[peanutalergy]

stray cat ꨄ s.r. × reader

in which spencer reid sneaks into fem!reader's room at night

tags: high school au !! no explicit content duh ? tooth rotting fluff in a brain rottingly terrible written way, reader is a cheerleader and like a popular girl ? idk I'm a sucker for the popular × nerd trope; not canon accurate obviously because if it were spencer would be twelve and bullied by everyone; mentions of blood and cuts and weapons and getting hurt but not in the way you might think ..?; reader's dad is mentioned ? yeah anyway idk what else sorry

w/c: 2k (this was meant to be a blurb ?)

a/n: okay so I found this draft from last year (back when I was still in hs (r.i.p.)) and I decided to finish it because it seemed cute. turned out terrible I hate it whatever, it's very ooc idk sorry ALSO inspired by a situation I lowkey went through myself hence why there's things spencer would never say/do, sorry

you’re sitting in bed with your computer atop your thighs, stressing over the third essay you have to finish by the weekend, when you hear a noise coming from outside. you ignore it, at first, thinking it's just a raccoon or a stray cat, until you hear a very human grunt from right beneath the window. immediately, you jump to grab the small—and frankly, quite useless—knife that you always keep in your bedside drawer in case of an intrusion or something of the sort.

you pull out your phone, contemplating dialing 911, until you see spencer's head pop up at the window. putting down the "weapon", you run across the room to open it, laughing confusedly as your boyfriend stumbles in. you help him inside, taking his hand in yours, which he holds onto like he might fall right now from right here.

you open your mouth, but he starts mumbling breathlessly before you even get the chance to say anything.

“i don't know what i was thinking, i’m never doing that again. i don't think just reading the stealthy guide to climbing roofs was enough, i mean, the writer didn't even take into consideration everything that could've went wrong. do you know how many terrible things could have happened? i could have fallen and broken my neck, someone could've seen me and called the police, or– doesn't your dad have a shotgun? do you think he heard me? god, i'm all dirty, i’ve got leaves all over me, i don't–”

you press a quick kiss to his lips, the most effective way you've found to shut him up. when you pull away, he's frozen, trying to catch his breath, cheeks rosy from the physical exercise–something he doesn't usually engage in–and from your touch, as well.

“what are you doing here?”

“sorry…” he mumbles, staring down at his fingers as they fidget with the sleeves of his cardigan, “i wanted to see you. did i wake you up?”

“oh, baby” you giggle, patting away the dirt and leaves from his body gently, “don't apologize, i'm glad you're here. i wasn't asleep, don't worry. you scared me, though. i thought someone was breaking in.”

“oh, i'm sorry, i didn't want to scare you, i’m really sorry. i should've called you.”

“no, don't worry. it's okay. it’s a nice surprise.”

“yeah…?” he asks, glancing up at you hesitantly.

“mhm.” you nod before taking his face in your hands. he tilts his head, leaning into your touch, similar to an animal who wants to be pet, but doesn’t know how to ask for it. you chuckle and give him another kiss, your fingers moving up and tangling in his hair.

“why did you go through the window, though? you could've just knocked on the door, my dad doesn't have a shotgun. he's a sweet little old man, he would've let you in just fine.”

“i don't know, i was scared. i'm sorry.” he says shyly. he's blushing furiously, heart almost jumping out of his ribcage, and it doesn't have anything to do with the adrenaline from the climb anymore.

“no, it's okay. you're fine, it's fine. are you hurt, though?”

“i- uh, i hurt my hands a bit, but it's nothing major, i’ll be fine.”

“aw, you poor thing. lemme see.” he looks down at his palms, and you take them in your hands to see they're all scraped, red and raw, blood mixing with some of the dirt. “jesus, spence. we should get that cleaned up, no?”

“no, no, it's fine. we– it's okay, we don't need to, i'll be fine.” he tries to pull his hands away, but your grip on his wrists doesn't let him, and he lets out a shaky exhale.

“hm, no, c'mon, that's gonna get infected or something. then your hands will get necrosis and fall off. do you want your hands to fall off, baby?”

he shakes his head, and you can tell he's holding back a chuckle, “well, that– that's not really how necrosis works, but–”

“no, it is, shut up.” you cut him off and give him a playful nudge, “please, just a few band-aids?”

he looks at you reluctantly, and after a second, he sighs and finally nods, “sure. but just because you're worried. i wouldn't get necrosis either way.”

you giggle and press your lips to his again. as you pull away and walk to the closet, you point to your bed and mumble, “go sit down,” which he does immediately, settling awkwardly at the edge of it.

while you search for the first aid kit, you notice spencer looking around your room with a smile. he's been here a few times before, but never at night, and he finds awe in the way the moonlight reflects off a mirrorball that sits on your desk, and the way your posters look when the only other source of lighting comes from a few vanilla scented candles.

it’s actually quite ironic how much you two fit together. no one would have to look at you twice before guessing your interests, and they'd be right if they were to say things like pop music and cheesy 2010s romcoms; but there's a side of you, a side only spencer reid has ever met, that matches him perfectly.

after a while, you walk back to the bed, little box in hands, and you sit down on the ground in front of him, looking up at him with a smile.

“please, don't sit on the floor.” he murmurs as you settle between his legs.

“why not? it's clean.” you mumble as you start rummaging through the first aid kit.

“no, but, you're– this is– just… it'll hurt your back.”

“it won't, though, don't worry.” you give him a smile, and before he can protest again, you put out your hands, “gimme.”

he gives you his wrists once more, where you hold as you begin gently wiping his palms with antiseptic. he winces at first, and tries to hold back a noise so as to not worry you even more.

“what were you thinking about?” you ask. he answers with a hm?, that makes you say it again, “when i got back. you looked like you were thinking about something.”

“oh, just… your room.”

“what about it?”

“it's so… you. i mean, the space in which one lives does tend to be a reflection of themselves, but… it's like you took everything that makes you yourself, and you spread it all around the place. it's adorable... like you.” he mumbles awkwardly.

you chuckle, looking around the room, glancing at him, then turning your attention back to his hands. this time, when the wipe touches his raw skin again, he hisses. “ooh, sorry, that hurt? i’m sorry, baby. i’m trying to be gentle, i swear.”

he shakes his head. “no, you're being gentle–” very gentle, more than anyone had ever been to him before, “–it's just the alcohol. it- uh… alcohol molecules activate the same nerve receptors in your skin that let you know hot is hot, so it burns. it's chemical. you're being very gentle, don't worry, it's not you.”

you hum, smiling and nodding, before you both go quiet. he's staring down at you as you work, brows furrowed as you concentrate on his hands. “y'know, i could've done this myself,” he mumbles.

“mm, yeah, well, we could do it all by ourselves. we'd be miserable, though, no?”

he's quiet for a second, thinking about a way to deny that, but when he can't find one, he just mutters a soft yeah and goes silent again.

scared of the situation getting too awkward, he starts rambling on about his day, telling you all things he believes you’d find interesting as you listen and nod and hum along and laugh. it's like he doesn't notice the words coming out of his mouth when they do, “i missed you at school today.”

“oh, i’m sorry, honey. i, uh– i wanted to talk to you at lunch, but, i– i wasn't sure you'd want to see me. i don't know, i didn't know if you'd want to be around the girls, and they wouldn't leave me alone, so... i didn't want to make you uncomfortable.” you say, looking at him between placing band-aids.

“of course i would've wanted to see you. yeah, your friends are… a lot. i think they don't really like me. but i don't mind being around them, if it means being around you.”

“no, they like you. don't worry about that, they like you."

“they sure have a strange way of showing it”

“yeah, well, they're– they look a bit, like, uhm… mean girls, but they're not. they're nice. they're just a bit... vain and shallow.”

“vain and shallow usually means mean girls.” he whispers with a chuckle.

“nah, not really. just means boring. to be fair, you're much cooler than them.” you answer with another laugh, to which he shakes his head in disbelief, right as you finish bandaging his hands.

you place two gentle kisses to his palms, which you can notice makes his breath hitch a little, and you put the kit to the side. you shuffle closer to him and tilt your head, resting it on his knee and smiling up at him, “i missed you, too.”

he nods and tucks a strand of your hair behind an ear, his touch lingering at your jaw. there's another moment of quiet, in which you just stare at each other, grinning. he looks at you and touches you almost as if you're not real, almost as if he's convinced this isn't actually happening.

he can't help but be fascinated by the intimacy of this moment. a few months ago, he had never even been looked at for more than a few seconds, and now he's doing staring contests with the captain of the cheerleading team, in her room, at night.

sure, the people at school still see him as a loser, but that doesn't matter to him. all he cares about is you. you're here, holding and taking care of him, looking at him like he's worth something. that's all that matters right now.

“hi.” you break the silence, though barely, your voice a quiet whisper.

“hi.” he whispers back with a smile, “please, will you get up from the floor…?”

you chuckle and stand up again, him being sat allowing you to press a kiss on his forehead while your fingers run through his hair. when you do so, he wraps his arms around your legs and burrows his face into your stomach, letting out a noise, almost a purr as he nuzzles against you like a kitten.

after a while, he pulls his head away to look around the room again, and his gaze falls on the laptop that had been sitting in your bed this whole time, the essay abandoned. "when is that due?"

"history class on friday."

"i could help you with it, if you want."

"no, no, no, you don't have to. don't worry. i'll get it done... sometime." you say with a chuckle.

he nods–he woke up the next morning and finished it for you while you got ready–and hides his face back in your shirt.

“are you sleeping over?” you ask, and it makes him lift up his head to look at you once more.

“can i?” he mutters reluctantly, “i don't want your parents to wake up, and see– y'know… a boy in your bed. and we've got school tomorrow, so…”

“do you want to sleep over?”

“mhm” he hums with a nod, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shirt.

“my parents won't mind, then.”

“are you sure? i mean, teenagers are–” he starts rambling again, and you shut him up with another kiss.

“my parents won't mind.” you repeat after pulling away, leaving another peck on his nose, “and we can just skip school tomorrow. it’s gonna be boring, anyway. we don't even have any classes together. we can spend the whole day here, yeah?”

“okay, yeah.” he mumbles under his breath, trying not to look too nervous.

you smile and lie down on the bed. he immediately follows suit and curls up next to you, face buried in your chest, arms around your waist, leaning into your touch and clinging to you like you'll be gone if he lets go. “i love you,” he whispers, his warm breath against your skin sending tingles down your spine.

“i love you” you whisper back, placing yet another kiss on the crown of his head. it's not long after you start running your hands through his hair that he falls asleep.

and in the end, you realize that, in a sense, it actually was a stray cat at your window.

[mywritersmind]

umm I don't really have an idea in mind (sorry) but id love to see an ex!franco fic!!

THAT PRETTY BLONDE - FC43

summary : In which some drivers are checking out a girl and when Franco goes to meet her, they already have been introduced. In fact, they’ve had years of knowing eachother.

listen up : franco x ex! no warnings! thanks for the request i love the idea of franco and his ex so here’s smt short!

words : 1135

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“What’re you staring at?” I elbow Lando while Oscar, Isack, Kimi, and Carlos are completely locked in, their eyes on something in the distance.

“Mate…” Isack hits my chest, “Hottest girl ever.”

Kimi nods as if he has a chance with anyone over eighteen, “Mamma mia...”

“Right there. In the white.” Lando points to a girl in the crowd, her back is to us and I immediately understand what they’re talking about.

I can’t even see the girl's face but she’s already stunning. She’s in a blue mini skirt and a white top that falls just before her waistband. She's slim, her legs long, definite model quality. Shit, I see one attractive girl and suddenly i’m a model scout?

She flips her hair to her back, long and blonde. “Ay…” I mumble, “I’m going to talk to her.”

“No way!” Lando interjects.

“Come on Colapinto leave some for the rest of us.” Isack rolls his eyes as I grin and push past Oscar who looks more curious than hot for her.

I stick my tongue out at them as I walk backwards, turning around and walking straight up to her. I clock the William’s mechanics already, the familiar faces nodding to me.

“Hey…” My voice trails off almost immediately, the second the girl turns to me, my mouth goes dry.

Her smile drops at the same time the mechanics walk away, “Y/n.” I choke out, staring at my ex-girlfriend in the face. What the actual fuck.

“Franco.” Her voice makes me physically shiver, the same one that used to sweet talk me. I recognize it all too well. She’s not smiling, her expression neutral as she checks me out, “Thought you weren’t driving this season.” She says it as if it was the most casual thing ever.

She pops her hip, raising a brow. God I used to love when she would do that.

I never have issues talking to women, unless it’s her. I don’t know why, just something about her made me so nervous, especially after the breakup. “I’m uh… just here in case.” I scratch the back of my neck, looking past her at the guys who are staring.

“Right.” She smiles softly, moving her arm up so her fingers tug at a curl in my head, “You look good.” I swallow, ultra aware that she hasn’t touched me in over a year.

I can’t breathe. “Thanks. You look… You know you look good Y/n.” She laughs, nodding. She always did. “I like your hair.”

“Really?” She twirls it around her finger, “Kinda miss the brunette.”

“So, you’re here.” I eye her badge and swallow, “With william’s?”

I swear on my life she’s doing this on purpose, “Mhm… I was invited. It’s not too weird… is it?”

“Well considering you broke up with me before I became a william’s driver…” Shut up Franco. Shut up.

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t pull that. You know why we broke up.” Me. Of course it’s me. I nod as she glances back to the guys who pretend to be doing anything but staring at her. “Could you tell your friends that if they want to look at me, they can talk to me first?”

I let out a dry laugh, “Not a chance they’ll be doing either.”

“Hm, still possessive I see.” She tilts her head, smirking.

“You got a boyfriend I should be worrying about?” She shakes her head slowly. Good. “Then yeah, they’re not getting close.”

She smiles in the way that she used to, “Look I gotta go…” I spent this past year thinking about her, wondering if I would ever see her again, yet here she is. At a bloody race with the team I should be on.

“Right. Maybe we can catch dinner sometime?” I don’t know why I say it, it literally just comes out of me.

But thankfully, she doesn’t scream in horror, just grins wider, “If you’re lucky, Colapinto.”

I nod and start walking away, “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” The second she turns away, I slowly walk back to the guys.

I cannot believe she’s here. “What the hell!?”

“There’s no way you pulled her in that amount of time.” Carlos raises a brow.

“Who is she!?” Kimi asks, “Yo, Colapinto! Details!”

I groan, slamming my head against the wall as they all go quiet. I breathe in, then out, my eyes squeezed shut. “She’s my ex.”

They freak out. Oscar laughs out loud while Carlos just shakes his head. “Excuse you!?” Lando shakes me.

“You’re fucking kidding!” Isack argues.

“I wish.” I say, looking at the group of shocked men, knowing i’m about to have to explain that the one girl I ever truly loved, broke up with me because she thought (she knew) I wasn’t doing enough. “Oh I really fucking wish.”

“Mate… how’d you not recognize her!?” Lando’s laughing now.

“She was brunette…” I groan at the memory of my beautiful brunette girlfriend who used to party around argentina and kiss me against club walls. “and I didn’t expect the fucking loss of my life to be here!”

“Shit. I can’t believe you fumbled her.” Oscar shakes his head, making me frown.

I cross my arms, “She broke my heart, thanks.”

Lando raises a brow, “Oh?”

“She dumped you!” Kimi giggles, “This is the best news I’ve ever heard. You think she’d go for me?”

I punch him in the arm, making the younger boy flinch, “She is way too old for you. And she’s my ex!”

“I don’t see any issues.” He shrugs, making me blink. He fucking wishes.

“Shut your trap, Antonelli.” Lando laughs, “Franco. Is she single?”

“Mate!” I swear, “Not you too!”

He laughs, “For you! There’s no way you’re fucking up this opportunity.”

Carlos nods, “You believe in fate?”

I eye the man in blue, “I believe that she’s in your garage all weekend…” I smile and clap him on the shoulder, “I just have to visit my best mate!”

He laughs, shaking his head. He’s about to say something but goes suddenly quiet when someone walks up. It’s her.

Everyone shuts up.

“Fran.” She calls me by my nickname, thoroughly twisting the knife, “Call me tonight, yeah?”

I think I might faint.

The sharp pain in my side is caused by Isacks elbow, forcing me to nod as they all check her out, “Of course.”

She looks at all of them, laughing a bit before waving, “See you.”

“Bye…” Half the guys say! I slap all of them.

“Oh Fran…” Lando mocks her, batting his lashes, “Please come take me out and-”

“Shut it!” I start walking away.

“Where are you going?” Oscar asks.

“I need to figure out what i’m going to wear!”

[raven-unkind]

˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ cherry popping

Jay x fem!reader

wc. 1044 words

summary: asking bff jay to take your virginity

tw. mdni, nsfw, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, praise, dacryphilia (sorta? nothing crazy), protected sex (we all cheered), jay is in love with reader but does not confess 🙂

a/n. This is the winner of a poll I did 3 days ago! writing for the people 🙂‍↕️<3

“What did you say?” You shuffle around in your seat uncomfortable under Jay's piercing gaze. “I was wondering if you could… you know, be my first….” You trail off as if you didn't just ask your best friend of 5 years to take your virginity. Jay pauses, looking at you in disbelief, before turning back to the stove, the pasta now the least of his worries. 

“I-....” he sighs “Can I ask why you're asking me?” You sit up straighter, you knew Jay would never say no to you. No matter how crazy your ideas ever sounded, he would always say yes. You shrug, playing with what's left of your beer. “I trust you. We've been friends for years and I want my first to be with someone I trust.” Jay stays silent for a few minutes, his back is facing you but you can tell he's debating whether or not he should, yet again, indulge in your crazy idea. “If you don't want to, I can always ask Heeseung-” “No, I'll do it.” He cuts you off, finally turning around to face you. “You’re not asking Heeseung for anything. You said you want me to do it right? I'll do it.” He nods, almost like he’s reassuring himself. 

If Jay was completely honest with you, he’d tell you he had to use all his self restraint not to get hard when you, his pretty, innocent best friend – who he just so happens to be hopelessly in love with – asked him to basically fuck her. No feelings attached. 

…

“Come on baby… spread your pretty legs for me. ” You look down at Jay, who currently settled between your thighs, looking up at you with half lidded eyes, pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs. You sigh, finally giving him access to your panties cladded pussy. The material useless, already drenched in your slick. He lets out a sigh and presses his tongue flat on your pussy, inciting a low whine from you, head falling back on the pillows. “J- Jay please.. Don't tease” you whine. Jay mumbles something that sounds like an apology and finally pushes your panties to the side, diving into your heat. You moan at the new, foreign feeling and Jay lets out a moan at your taste. “Taste so fucking good baby.” He pulls away from your heat, the lower part of his face glistening with your slick. You whine at loss of contact, and Jay smirks. He places a teasing kiss on your clit and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. “J-jay-”  “I'm sorry, pretty girl, I'm just enjoying myself a little.” With that he finally dives back in, this time  his long slender fingers find your hole, entering you slowly. You gasp at the intrusion, as he adds another slowly working then in and out of you. You feel the knot in your stomach tightening and your thighs involuntarily close around Jay's head, trapping him in your heat. He clearly doesn't mind; his fingers work you open, grazing that one spot that makes you see start. “Oh my god- Just like that- please im so fucking close.” Your eyes roll at the back of your skull when his lips wrap around your pulsing clit, hands finding purchase in his hair, tugging on them. He starts hitting that spot, your orgasm nearing with each drag on his fingers. “Feels good doesn't it?” He rasps. You nod dumbly, unable to form a sentence. “I know, you’re such a good girl.” He praises. A few drag of his fingers later you're cuming all over his fingers. “That’s it -fuck- make a mess for me.” he groaned.

He gets up from between your legs, wiping the lower half of his face with the back of his hand. “You alright?” You nod, breathless from your orgasm. “Jay’s eyes roam on your exposed body, staring at your chest for a couple of seconds before his eyes dart back to yours. “Do you want to continue? We can stop if you want to-” “Yeah- please Jay.” You whine and he lets out a small whimper at the sight of you, under him, begging to be filled by his cock. He reached to open his nightstand drawer, taking out a small metallic packet. He opens it, and slides the condom over his length, positioning himself between your legs again.

“I’ll go slow mkay? Tell me when I can move.” You nod and Jay finally sinks in your dripping heat. You gasp at the initial stretch, the burn uncomfortable but not as painful as you imagined. You let out a shake breath as Jay pampers your chest and neck with kisses to soothe the pain. 

“You can move now.” Jay nods and slowly bottoms out, only his tip remaining inside, and slams his hips back in, cock reaching places you had no idea existed. You both moan at the feeling, Jay’s head falling in the crook of your neck. He had imagined how it would feel to have you so close for years, but god had he never expected for you to grip him so tightly, practically sucking him in. “F-fuck baby you're so tight” He whimpers in your ear, causing you to clamp around his length. “A-ah y/n dont do that or I’ll fucking cum… G- give me a minute princess.” 

He finally starts moving, slowly increasing his speed until he’s bullying his cock deep into you. The sound of moaning, groans and skin slapping are the only thing you can hear in the room. Feeling that pit in your stomach intensify with each push of his cock inside of you, your moans become more and more high pitched, cunt gripping Jay like vice. 

“J-jay im so fucking close please-” You whimper directly in his ear and he swears in that moment he would do anything you ask. He points his hips with intention now, penetrating deep, decided to make you come again, this time on his cock. A whine falls from your lips when your orgasm hits, a feeling so intense and new. You shake under him, clenching his length through your own orgasm until he gently pulls out and presses kisses on your cheek, mumbling about how good you did for him.

©RAVEN-ODYSSEY

reblog, comments and likes are appreciated!

taglist: @annybah

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I've Got You Under My Skin 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: your husband is a very demanding man.

Note: I can't help myself with the super soldiers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The doorbell rings and you flinch. You pop your head up as Steve keeps his heavy arm across you. You wriggle and check the time on the small clock on his side of the bed. 

"Shoot!" You struggle to break free of him. "I forgot!"

"Forgot," he turns onto his side, keeping his hand on your hip. "What's going on?"

"I invited the girls over for movie night!"

"Movie night?" He echoes.

"Yes," you move his hand off of you, your chest bouncing as you hop out of bed. "We rented Nosferatu! I'm too afraid to watch it alone so..."

"You coulda waited for me," he sits up and shakes out his matted hair.

"I know but... oh, Bucky's wife can't make it. She's working on her comic," you explain as you search for your bra. The doorbell goes again.

"You didn't tell me you were having them over."

"I forgot."

"But you planned it... you could've said something when I called the other day." He scolds.

You know how he is about the house. He's so overly cautious, he would've seen them on the security app anyhow. Plus, they're his friends as much as yours.

"It's just Wanda and Nat," you say. He stares at you unflinching. "I'm sorry, Stevie--"

"Don't Stevie me with those kitten eyes," he warns as he sits up and wags his finger. "I just... like to know."

"I know," you look at your toes. "I won't do it again."

"Mm," he hums, obviously not happy. You hurry to pull on a fresh dress, not creased or stained by his suddenness. You pull you a pair of panties and he sighs, "really?"

"Steve, the girls are here."

"So what?" He tilts his head and smirks, "kinda hot thinking of you hanging out with nothing underneath. Just waiting til they're gone so you can get back on me."

You give a bashful smile, "Stevie."

The doorbell rings several times in quick succession.

"Hurry up," he rolls his eyes. "Nat can never..."

He trails off and you hurry out, trying desperately to tame your mussed appearance. You flit down the stairs, your skirt letting the air flow over your pelvis. You shiver and hurry to the door, opening it up with a smile.

"There you are. We brought wine and you leave us out in the cold," Natasha snips and shoves the bottle at you.

"Sorry, Steve got back early."

"Ew, please, we don't need details," she snickers.

"Vis got back too," Wanda says. "But Tony kept him late. I swear sometimes I think I'm the other woman."

You shake your head and accept the wine.

"As usual, Bucky's not here and ruining it all," Nat sneers. "She'd come if he wasn't such a hard ass."

"I thought she was working," you frown.

"Oh, sweet child," she purrs. "Sometimes I think that's why he chose you, you are too trusting."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Wanda pinches your chin. "You're just precious."

You back up to let them in. You don't argue. You don't like conflict. Not at all. You don't know how Steve does it.

Yet, you're irked. Everyone treats you like a child. You know you're a bit younger than all of them, a bit less experienced, but you're not stupid.

"So, pizza?" Nat asks.

Usually, you'd say no. The grease makes your chest burn and Steve doesn't like all that processed cheese. Unfortunately you didn't have enough time to make the food you were planning on.

"You two go ahead and order. I'll get some snacks ready," you wave them into the living room.

Before Steve got back, you had a plan. You were supposed to add some ambiance; dark scarfs over the lamps, pillows on the floor.... Oh, but you did do one thing.

You take out the medieval looking goblets filled with goodies; black nail polish, edible vampire teeth, red gummies of every flavour. You set them aside and start on the snacks.

Hummus and spinach dip, whole wheat crackers, veggies, and some fruits. You bring it out as Nat and Wanda set up a nest on the floor. Natasha grimaces at the tray.

"Really?"

"Well, you know..."

"We know. Mighty Captain America doesn't allow real American food in his house." Natasha sniffs.

"I got a surprise, wait," you put it down and wave off her chagrin. "One sec."

You go back out to the kitchen and grab the goblets. You bring them out with a proud smile. Wanda oohs and ahs as she nears.

"Adorable," she praises. "Oh, Natty, there's candy."

"Is it vegan? Sugar-free? All organic?"

"It's real," you assure her. "Just for tonight."

"For tonight or just for us?"

"Well, they're... presents."

"Hmm," Nat plucks out a gummy. "You should join in on the fun."

"It's okay, really. I'm not very hungry right now."

"It's one candy," she nears and holds it between her talon-like nails.

"You girls and your vampires," Steve startles you as he appears in the archway. You glance over. 

"Whatever, scaredy pants," Nat shoves the candy towards you. "It's girls' night and you're jealous."

"You're stealing my wife. Damn right I'm jealous." He scoffs.

"Mhmm," Nat hums and pushes the candy through your lips. You widen your eyes as she pulls her thumb free. You bite into it and look at Steve. He doesn't look impressed.

"Just try not to get her in any trouble," he says.

"In your living room?" Wanda giggles.

"You two have a way," Steve chides.

"Says Steve Rogers," Nat shakes her head.

"Says her husband," he tisks.

"Fucking Christ," Nat mutters. "Think a vampire would be a better husband."

"I can hear you," he retorts. "Language."

He marches off and you give a guilty look as you chew. You wish they didn't argue so much. You just want to have a nice movie night.

[aryadelvich]

Luigi and reader are baking a cake and reader applies a small amount of cake batter on Luigi’s face (near his birth mark). She then grabs his face to lick it off and he makes a swift move to kiss her 💋💋. FRENCH KISSING with tongue 😏

I never sent a request sometimes I write but I want to connect with more Luigi writers hope all is well🩷😊.

Chef - Luigi Mangione x reader

First of all I’m honoured to be one of your first request ! Second of all I love your idea, it’s so cute !!!🥰 Thank you very much for your request !!! 💕💕

"Luigi, you're making a mess!" you exclaimed in frustration. You had been in the kitchen for over an hour, trying to bake a cake for one of your friends, but it was turning into complete chaos.

"Shhh, let the chef work," he said, focused, stretching out his muscular arm like a barrier to stop you at your waist.

"The chef?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm the head chef. Now move aside kitchen assistant, I need that."

You didn’t budge, so he had to press against you to reach the bowl he was aiming for. The funny thing was, this had been your idea in the first place, but now Luigi was acting like he was in charge. He energetically mixed the batter.

"Luigi, you're getting it everywhere."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I don't see you working, Y/N."

"I'm the taste tester. My job comes at the end."

"You won’t get to taste anything if I fire you first," he shot back playfully.

You and Luigi were close friends. You had the same friend group, went to the same university, and liked pretty much the same things. And you adored him—he was so kind, caring, funny, and, most of all, intelligent.

"Okay! Fine, I’ll help," you gave in, grabbing the bowl and pouring the batter into the cake mold.

"Good girl," he teased sarcastically.

"Don't ever call me that," you warned.

"Or what?" he says, a provocative look on his face.

Without thinking, you scooped up some leftover batter with your fingers and smeared it all over his face.

"You’re going to regret that!" he exclaimed.

You immediately took off running, but he was faster. He caught up to you with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off the ground.

"No, okay, I’m sorry!" you faked an apology—one you absolutely didn’t mean.

"Too late. I hold grudges. Hmm… what would happen if I rubbed my face in your hair?"

"No! Not my hair! I washed it yesterday," you protested.

"Oh yes! I know all about your hair-washing schedule. What if I ruined it?" he threatened playfully.

"How do you even know that? That’s a girl secret!"

"I have two older sisters, remember? And don’t try to change the subject. Now, what should I do with you?"

"No, please, Luigi! I’ll fix this!"

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Let me go, and I’ll show you."

He slowly released his hold, his touch having been gentle from the start. You wiped some of the batter off his face with your finger and popped it into your mouth.

"Mmm, delicious," you said mischievously.

"You might as well lick me like a cat while you're at it," Luigi muttered.

"Would that make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

"Then I’m definitely doing it!"

He burst into laughter. That was the first thing he had liked about you—your ability to never take things too seriously. You stepped closer, cupping his face in your hands. As you leaned in to lick the remaining batter, he turned his head at the last second… Your lips grazed each other, a fleeting touch—too light to be a kiss, yet enough to make your breath hitch.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just stared at each other, hearts pounding in sync, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then, almost as if drawn by an unseen force, you both leaned in at the same time.

And finally, your lips met.

He pressed closer, desperate to feel more of you, to take more of you. His lips were warm, soft, yet urgent against yours. His breath mingled with yours, heavy and uneven. His hands found your hips, gripping them firmly, as if afraid you might slip away.

You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your fingers wove through his curls, tugging slightly, making him shudder. A low moan escaped him, unrestrained—too many emotions hitting him all at once. He was burning.

His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and you parted them without hesitation, inviting him in. He deepened the kiss, a quiet hum vibrating in his throat, sending a shiver down your spine. The intensity of it all left you breathless, dizzy. And when you finally broke apart, gasping for air, reality came crashing back, your forehead still brushing against his.

A silence settles between you. The kind that says too much.

Then Luigi lets out a quiet laugh, as if trying to break the tension. "Well… I guess we just reached a new level of friendship."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to regain your composure. "Oh yeah? Is that the level where we kiss and pretend it doesn’t mean anything?"

He tilts his head slightly, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "Exactly."

You hold his gaze, searching for the truth beneath his humor. Because you know him. You know when he’s pretending everything is fine. But you don’t push. You don’t want to. After all, your heart is still racing, and you’re not ready to admit why.

So you laugh, because it’s easier. Because it’s you two.

"Alright, so we’ll just pretend this never happened," you say, stepping back slightly, even though his body is still so close.

"Of course," he agrees, finally letting go of your waist. But his fingers brush against yours for just a second too long before he truly pulls away.

And that’s how you both silently decide that nothing has changed.

Except everything has.

In the days that follow, everything seems normal. You still hang out together, exchange the same jokes, talk about everything and nothing.

But then there are thosemoments.

Those stolen seconds where your eyes meet and neither of you looks away. Where his arm grazes yours, and neither of you moves.

Those fleeting instants when you wonder if he feels it too—that friendship isn’t quite the right word for whatever this is anymore.

But neither of you says anything. Because it’s easier that way.

Because admitting it means risking everything.

[shuenkio]

益⁠—15 minutes I 제이

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Jay!idol X M!idol reader

𝖲𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌: Accident skin contact on stage can lead to something spicier? When he beg to—

𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: Smut with plot. 𝖢𝖶: Smau.

𝖭𝗈𝗇 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 | 𝖤𝗇𝗀 is not my first

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

In the blink of an eye, The end of the year appears once again. And in this K-pop industry, wherein every year they'd celebrate, filled the stage with the groups. Yet with everyone's expectations, they'll always have collaboration stages with many groups and even duos from the same group too that spark the fans with thrilled and excited to see their performance.

With the start of the group called "Enhypen", it happened to have a collaboration stage too with the members — "M/n" and "Jay" the powerful duo which everyone didn't expect to have them on stage together, just the two them, two of the most talented members and underrated.

However that's not enough to make the supporters drool in excitement, one to another since the song that both of them are going to perform was "That Boy is mine" By Ariana grande. The fandom went insanely crazy to their own mankind when they learned that no female idol in this, with only M/n and Jay — Due to how small frame M/n was, Jay get to be the masculine role on stage— you know how it is ;)

Moving on to the stage, both of the members didn't know how their popularity was that great to have such a loud screaming and cheering from the crowd even the other fans are glowing like a red flame, burst their lung out to their limit, ruining their vocal dry— it's just them rehearsal.

It was marvelous, the way M/n express the lyrics by the dance steps, letting out his inner zesty taken over, didn't get to hesitate to do justice to the song's owner— his body are like jelly and flexible, carry on elegant moves which roughly pushing Jay on the verge to lose control right in fronts of the audiences who are enraptured, jumping happily such could cause earthquakes.

The moment the final note echoed into silence, the crowd exploded. Cheers and screams reverberated through the air, deafening, as if the entire universe had collapsed into that one breathless moment. Hands raised high, voices raw with joy—everyone was in awe. They were not just applauding, they were celebrating the impossible, the breathtaking, the unforgettable. It wasn’t just a performance. It was a triumph, and the world knew it. The best duo — M/n and Jay ending their performance with the pose of the latter's one limp up on Jay's hip, as Jay support it. On the other hand, belt M/n's waist with his powerful grips.

"you're a monster M/n, you earned yourself the greatest reward"

"How come— we did great don't just credit only I"

The duo exchange a small chatting, keep it steady in the pose, while waiting for the ending fairy and the live shooting to end.

Unbeknownst to M/n and the fans, the distance between them were too close that Jay's crotch brush again M/n's lower butt cloth— yet even M/n, himself didn't realize. He was catching an act, interact with the audiences. The taller compelled the sensation, flooded through him as their skin brushed lightly... closeness between them, making him feel a warmth he couldn’t ignore, underneath his leather pants, which is grown to something they could recognize instantly but Jay manages to unfold it.

"This has been ENHYPEN M/n And Jay— Thanks you"

///

"Please, Chaewoo, please let me fuck you. I need to be inside you so fucking badly."

He sits up slightly, yanking his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. His muscular chest is revealed, lean and defined, with small, dark nipples that are already stiff with arousal.

"Please, baby," Jay begs, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm going crazy thinking about splitting your tight little ass open on my huge cock. Please please I've been holding on for the past few weeks— please"

"I want to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll be feeling me for days. Please, M/n, let me fucking wreck you. I'm so fucking desperate for it."

Jay's hands slide down to your ass, kneading and squeezing the firm globes. He pulls them apart, exposing your tight, puckered hole underneath the fabric even more.

Seeing his eagerness to want it, you nod slightly, as a sign of giving him enough permission to fuck you right here, in the guest waiting room.

"We need to be quick— 15 minutes at ease Ah-" your eyes widen in surprise as he wraps his muscles arms around your hips and pulls you into a passionate, desperate kiss. He makes a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, his lips moving urgently against yours as the kiss deepens. His cock throbs and pulses between your legs, the massive, veiny shaft already leaking precum and soaking through his pants.

Jay practically tears your panties off without hesitation, in his haste to get to your ass, the flimsy fabric ripping away easily under his strength. He shoves his leather pants down just enough to free his huge, throbbing cock, and before you can blink, he's positioning the fat head at your entrance.

"Fuck, I can't wait," he growls, his voice strained with desperation.

"I need to be inside you, NOW."

With one brutal, powerful thrust, Jay slams his massive cock deep into your ass, splitting you open around his thick shaft. Yours breath began to be uneven, heaving and chasing for the right tempo—He's so big that he's halfway inside you before you even realize what's happening, your tight walls stretching obscenely to accommodate his girth.

"Oh FUCK!" Jay roars, his head thrown back, his face a mask of raw, primal ecstasy.

"So fucking tight, M/n. So fucking perfect."

He starts to move, his hips pumping furiously as he hilts himself fully inside you, with a pulsing visible on your lower belly. His heavy balls slap against your crook with each powerful thrust, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside your gripping heat.

"Take it, baby," he snarls, sweat dripping down his face as he fucks into you hard and fast. Tried hard with variety fucking position to get himself, bury deeper than the bottom of the ocean that turning you into a fucking toy— moaning out with lustful pleasure.

He leans down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he rails your ring mascule ruthlessly. The pain mingles with the intense pleasure radiating from your core, the dual sensations driving you wild. Jay's unique musk invades your senses, his scent of sweat, arousal and pure, unchecked masculinity filling the air of the small space.

"Fuck, I'm not going to last long," Jay pants harshly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending climax.

"You feel too fucking good, M/n. I'm going to pump you so fucking full of cum, baby. Gonna fill this tight butt YUCK"

He flips you over onto your hands and knees, slamming back into your abused entrance from behind with even more force. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cockhead kissing your prostate with every brutal thrust. The headboard slams against the wall with the force of his fucking, the room filling with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your desperate moans.

As he chases his rapidly approaching orgasm. His muscular body is slick with sweat, the beads of moisture dripping down onto your back as he fucks into you with wild abandon

"Shit, Chaewoo... I can't... I'm gonna fucking..." Jay's words dissolve into a guttural roar as his orgasm finally overtakes him. His cock swells even thicker inside you, before exploding, painting your inner walls with thick, hot ropes of his pent-up seed.

"FUCK!" Jay bellows, slamming into you one last time, hilting himself as deep as possible as he rides out the intense waves of his climax. His cock pulses and jerks inside your ass, pumping you full of his heavy load, just as he promised.

"uehjhnummm f- fifteen .... Minutes...."

"Thank you for your collaboration my love"

"Fuck...it...💦"

XD

A/n: to my special anon asked— there are 2 more requests but I think I'll probably doing only one more :'( it's take a lot of work to make this but this one is my favorite for this time being, feedbacks are free.

[petersparkerrs]

back where we started

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: dark!joel x fem!reader

- summary: joel is a horrible partner post-outbreak. he yells. isn't too nice. fucks.

- warnings: dark!!! dubcon, slapping, choking, hair tugging, unprotected piv (don't do this guys!), smut smut smut smut, degrading, yelling, no established relationship, rough sex, crying, unsafe sex, angry sex, joel has crazy anger issues, blood, huggeee nasty age gap (legal, though! your choice for age), public / outdoor sex, size kink, joel's got a massive dick lols, power imbalance, submission, no aftercare, squirting, dirty talk, thigh riding if you squint, manhandling, joel is just incredibly mean. total asshole.

- word count: 4.5k

- author’s note: feining for mr joel miller recently so i wrote this... my first joel fic!! its gross yall. have your fun though!

—————————————୨ৎ

Partnering up with Joel Miller wasn’t ideal. He’s always looking at you like you’re some problem he doesn’t know how to solve – like you’re just cargo he’s exhausted of having to drag along. 

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s honestly an asshole. A real fucking dick, a mean bastard. To everyone else you meet, you’re a well loved, sweet girl. To Joel, though, you’re a burden. He’s a miserable person, and hanging around him only came with the positive that he knew how to hunt, how to keep you decently safe. But, hey, it’s better to be stuck with a brute of a man than to be infected. Right?

For whatever reason, the frustration has been building worse than usual for the past few days. You move like you’re on eggshells, do anything to not upset him, stay quiet when you’re asked and obey his every order. But it’s Joel fucking Miller. Nothing is ever enough with him. 

You’re young, but that's not a valid excuse for Joel. He expects as much out of you as he would another man his size and seniority, which is totally unfair of a girl your age.

So every little mistake ticks him off. Really riles him up. His temper is really fired up today for whatever reason, and you’re trying your best to not exacerbate it. 

—————————————୨ৎ

Joel should know now your most common flaws – he does pay attention, but that mind of his was too preoccupied with his fresh plan to head east to remember just how forgetful you tend to be. 

You remember twenty minutes after you leave. Everything is packed up, rifle on Joel’s thick shoulder, sleeping bags taken from Bill and Frank’s now deserted house strapped to your backs. Everything but one thing. And arguably, the most important thing for the new change of route. 

“Can y’get me out the map, girl?”

Girl. He always insists on calling you that. Rather derogatory, like he doesn’t wanna address you by a human name. Just girl.

At the question, your steps stutter. A little patch of dirt kicked up from your shoe hits the back of Joel’s calf, earning a soft grunt. “You fuckin’ deaf now? I said gimme the damn map.”

He knows what your silence means, and in that moment he's about to lose his goddamn mind. His feet stop bluntly, his large, brooding frame turning to face you. 

Your pace slows soon after him, halting to a nervous stop while your gaze flickers from its usual spot on the ground up into his dark eyes. A warning look.

“Better not tell me you lost the fuckin’ thing.” 

No words come out of your mouth, let alone even pop into your head; all you can seem to do is stare up at him like a mindless idiot, his height towering over yours when he takes a small step closer.

Again, your steps follow, this time backward. You stumble back half a foot, a twig cracking under the shift of your weight. Out of nervous habit, your left hand reaches for the right wrist, gently stroking the skin to keep yourself somewhat calm.

“Joel, I didn’t–”

His movements match your own, his large, calloused hands lurching forward to rip your hand off your wrist. It gets replaced with his own grip, but much tighter. Aggressive. Taut. Outraged. 

“Y’didn’t what? Didn’t think for once how t’not be a goddamned idiot?” He snarls, his untamed fingernails digging into the skin for a moment and leaving tiny crescents into the first layer. “Why d’you always gotta be like this, girl? Fuckin’ stupid…”

He trails off, removing his tight grip on your forearm, but not without hostility. He lets go but ends it with a good yank. Not hard enough to pop it out of place, but hard enough to get a quiet whimper out of your shy throat.

You never know what to say when he gets like this. Whether to defend yourself, whether to stay shut up and take the tirade. But you sure know well enough not to fight back – that’s how to get your arm pulled out of the socket.

“I–I swear, Joel. I had it, I don’t know where it went.”

He never takes your stupid excuses. They’re useless, he’ll never believe you. He knows that you know you forgot it at the last spot you camped out. And this time, the excuse was a pathetic mumble, your eyes glued at your wrist and the mark he left when he gripped it. Even more to make your pitiful case unconvincing. 

“Yeah, the hell you do. Quit lyin’, you know damn well where that map is.” He scoffs, brushing past you with a shove to the shoulder, his larger figure knocking you a few inches with a soft oof. “Back in the woods where you left it, ain’t it?”

Of course, you can’t plead your case anymore. You give in, nodding in submission and trudging after him once he turns around, back in the direction where you surely left the damn map. 

“...Yeah.” You murmur, rubbing a dry hand across the bottom half of your face, against your snotty nose. Not because you’d been crying, this is nothing from Joel yet. Just because the month has been terribly cold and sleeping outside every night isn’t doing you well. “At our last camp. M’sorry.”

“Always fuckin’ sorry. Sorry for almost gettin’ yourself killed, sorry for forgetting somethin’ again and again. M’sick of your shit.” He grunts, readjusting the rifle strapped over his shoulder. 

When you first met him, words like that got to you, as much as you hate to admit it. But now, everything seems to fade together. He’s just Joel. That’s how he is. And you’ve gotta live with it and try your best to not piss him off. 

To your luck, he shuts up and stops berating you – at least until you’re close to the previous camp spot. Just silence, interrupted only by the awkward shuffling of your steps behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his longer strides and stay quiet to not worsen his anger.

But when you get close enough and he has to start looking for the damned map, his mumbling and annoyance boils over once again, infiltrating the somewhat comfortable silence that your ears just got used to.

“Map was the only fuckin’ thing getting us around… no goddamn compass.” Joel mutters under his breath. Not at you, for once, but just a natural spilling of his frustration. He’s always gotta be mumbling about something, even in his sleep. “Slow me down enough as is. Gotta lose everythin’, too.”

You joined aimlessly behind him, searching around the patchy grass, anywhere for the map that was stressing him out so terribly. 

Minutes go by. He’s getting angrier by the minute, his hands flexing while he crouches down and searches. Mad, but still pretty tame for a pissed-off Joel Miller. 

That is, until he glances up and actually gets a look at you for the first time in an hour. He normally avoids any eye contact, avoids even peeking over at you. At that damn little frame… so much younger, sweeter. He seemingly hates having you around because you always tick him off, but what he hates more is the temptation that comes with having a pretty little girl by his side at all times.

He finally lets his eyes fall on you. But this time, he can’t even get his usual peek at your lips or neck, because something else catches his eye. A familiar shred of paper – just the fucking corner – poking out the zipper of your backpack. 

He genuinely slaps himself in the face, eyes turning dark and fists curling up in pure rage at the sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

He growls. Not a question, but a threat. His eyes are black at this point, breath speeding up while he takes another step toward you. Not cautious like he’ll sometimes let himself be, but warring. 

You’re confused for a bit, as you hadn’t seen the map in your own bag. Or even thought to look before you turned around and walked a half hour back, a complete waste of your time. “Oh…”

He starts again, his voice much lower than usual. Dangerous.

“You wanna tell me…” Joel breathes, stepping towards you even more until he’s got you backed against a tree. Bark pushing your shirt and jacket up, scraping at the bare skin of your lower back. “Why the hell we just wasted an hour of our time, when the map was practically right in your fuckin’ hand!”

As he curses, your heart drops. You don’t have time to react before his hands are up, flying at you. You flinch, thinking they’re coming to hurt you, but they’re reaching into your backpack. 

And sure enough, there it is. The map you spent so much valuable time fussing over. Right on your damn back. 

‘I didn’t know, Joel. Didn’t think to check.” You whimper and choke out from the back of your throat, weak and apologetic. Again, he’s not one for excuses and apologies. He’s on you before you can even think, hand forcing the map in your face.

His palm hits your mouth when he shoves the paper, a direct blow to your jaw. Your lip comes in forced contact with your bottom row of teeth, tearing the skin and swelling instantly. The only thing that can escape your mouth now is a pained whimper, which agitates the furious man on top of you worse. 

“Fuckin’ idiot. Wastin’ my damn time like always. Do you ever think?” He scoffs and backs up, maybe half an inch. 

When he notices your slightly busted lip, it brings him a sense of triumph. You ticked him off and now you’re gonna pay for it. And you sure enough feel guilty enough to not stop him, so he’s got you trapped now.

You’re frozen in place against the tree, refusing to move or utter out even the smallest of another noise. Suddenly, Joel’s mind is more occupied by the girl under his grip, shaking like a damn leaf with a bleeding and busted lip. 

“Asked you a question, little shit.” He grunts and lets his hand venture up to your jaw, pushing it around like a toy before settling with a tight grip, squeezing your cheeks and watching how the blood oozes from your lip at the pressure. “Said, do you ever fuckin’ think?”

Sure, he’s yelled at you plenty, disciplined you, maybe put his hands on you out of frustration a couple of times before. But it never feels like this. His hands usually let up after they land on you, but now he’s squeezing at your face and looking into your hazy eyes as if this is a challenge.

“Mm.” You whine, throat bobbing while you adjust to the feeling of his huge hand gripping your face. “N-no.” 

Your voice is only the softest of a mutter. 

“Speak up, girl. Didn’t hear ya’.” He rolls his eyes, giving your face a nice knead and jerking it to the side to jolt you up more. 

A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, head jerking to the right at the flick of his wrist. He holds it against the tree, your ponytail getting caught on the rough edge of the bark, the lumber scraping your ear.

“No. Don’t–don’t ever think enough. M’sorry. Wasn’t… wasn’t thinkin’.”

You sigh, head lifting up while you feel the familiar sensation of your throat tightening up, eyes starting to burn. But you keep it in. 

Joel hums, jerking your head again and shoving it harder onto the hard bark. “Damn right. Don’t think. A fuckin’ burden on me.”

He’s not doing it because he’s mad anymore. Hell, he’s already forgotten about the stupid map that caused all of this. He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.

And you know that’s all he wants.

His gaze is different, his tone similar to but not matching the genuine anger you hear from him most of the time. There's a hint of more challenge in it, maybe even passion. The hand on your jaw only confirms that.

“Shoulda’ left you behind when I got the chance.” He mutters, knowing that threatening to leave you really gets under your skin. Honestly, he’s all that you have, and you’d be dead without him. So that always seems to hurt a little more than some name calling. 

You don’t react, gulping and keeping still at his arduous words. Getting no reaction from you riles him up worse, his free hand coming down to strike at the wood above your head. You flinch, and a tear unpromptedly rolls down your cheek. You don’t feel it until Joel curses, laughing in disbelief and moving his hand from your jaw down to your throat.

He squeezes. Not tight, not yet. A groan escapes his throat, low and almost pained. And before you know it, he’s got his body pressed against yours, rubbing you uncomfortably into the rotting tree. 

“Such a fuckin’ mess.” He grunts, one hand around your throat to cut off any words and the other moving to your chin to move your gaze up to him. “Cryin’ like a baby when you were the one that lost the map.” 

Your pulse jumps when he degrades you, and he swears he sees something else in your eyes this time. Not the usual fear, but something that looks like arousal. 

It sparks something in him, and he wants to see it again. His hand tightens on your neck, earning a pained gasp from your pretty throat. Your eyes lock, and he watches your head tilt back against the tree, your eyes fluttering slightly.

He can’t take much more. A tiny whimper comes out of you when his knee presses against your thigh. 

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

Joel growls. Low. Frustrated. He gives up on the choking, instead gripping the back of your head and taking hold of your messy ponytail. He tugs, tilting your head more, his big aquiline nose moving down to bump under your ear and rub along the cold curve of your jaw. 

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” He whispers, his unkempt scruff that he calls a beard brushing up against you, scratching deep into the skin he just had a hand wrapped around. “Feel you gettin’ turned on. Fuckin’ slut, getting all worked up when I’m angry with you.”

You can’t do anything but take his advances and cry softly, feeling the cotton of your panties dampening each time his gruff voice comes out against your ear, his harsh breath biting at your neck. 

“Don’t got time for th’shit.” He mutters, but you hear his resolve dropping. He’s getting less and less frustrated over you wasting time, but more frustrated over the fact that he’s got his knee between your legs and he can feel the heat seeping through the fabrics, even in the biting cold weather. “Don’t got time for you makin’ me… makin’ me–ngh.”

His words stop, replaced by a low grunt into your ear the second your body even twitches against his. The grip on your ponytail tightens, tugging backward and earning a needy whine from you.

As much as he wants to keep degrading you, making you feel worthless under him, he’s feeling pretty pathetic himself. And he never gets like this with women.

His nose bumps your ear one more time before he can’t take it – his lips crash into yours. It’s not friendly. It’s not intimate. It’s fucking rude.

He intrudes, letting go of your hair and grabbing your body instead to push you against the damn tree harder. Mouths battle, and he wins, nipping hard and tasting the metallic blood from where he busted your lip earlier. Yum. 

“Joel.” You whimper, finally. It’s music to his ears, but he can’t show that. He has to be tough, not show that he’s into this. Not into the young girl he’s supposed to be training.

Joel grumbles, bringing a hand up to mindlessly slap at the side of your face at the sound of your whimper. 

“Shut up.”

And you do.

You’d do anything he told you right now. The feeling of him slapping you, biting your lips, pressing his thick knee between your thighs has got you absolutely pathetic. It’s fucking disgusting, you know that. To be so grossly into the fifty-six year old man that’s been taking care of you, the one that relentlessly bullies you and makes you feel like a worthless burden.

But you like it. You’d be anything for him, even if it meant being a worthless, pathetic burden. 

Joel’s got control. Obviously. His hand that slapped you runs over the heated skin in the same spot, almost to soothe it. What a gentleman. His lips slow on yours for a moment, latching onto the neck he had his hand around earlier instead.

In the deep woods, the only sounds heard are the birds above and his angry gasps against your skin, breathing like a madman. The softer sounds are interrupted by one of his belt clinking, being unbuckled mindlessly. And then the rustle of fabric. And then the unfamiliar sound of denim against Joel’s rough skin.

He’s straining against his boxers. Hard. Harder than he thinks he may ever have, but you don’t know that. You can tell he’s big through the fabric. It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind maybe once or twice, but you would never have expected for it to be pressed against your thigh, dangerous amounts of precum slowly leaking through the thin fabric of his briefs. 

You distract yourself while he gets busy attacking your neck and working your pants off – you don’t wanna believe it. Joel Miller is about to fuck you. He slapped you, choked you, degraded you, sure. That’s believable. But now he’s going to fuck you with that giant cock of his. 

As if it helps you not give in too much, you look everywhere to try and distract yourself. Down. His boxers read CALVIN KLEIN at the top. Up. The top button of his flannel came undone. He’s got a lot of chest hair. Behind him. There’s a bird watching him gnaw at your neck and tear your pants off, watching his bulging cock rub against your covered thigh. 

And the map is on the ground behind him.

“Fuck you lookin’ at?” He finally interrupts your private session of ‘I spy,’ breathing heavy against your skin and cupping your clothed cunt through your panties. “Look at me.”

You look up, gaze locking with his again. His eyes are equally as dark, but not with anger anymore. Desire. 

He’s gripping extra hard, hands splayed across your waist – almost big enough to wrap around, to grip you real good. Joel’s eyes travel all down your body in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, your pants torn down and now discarded on the forest floor. 

“Gonna fuck the stupidity right outchya’, yeah?” He chuckles, hoisting your body up to keep you settled between him and the tree. “‘N I want you lookin’ at me while I do it, kay’, girl? Eyes up. C’mon now.”

You can do nothing but oblige. Your eyes dart up, staying on him, even when he pulls his cock out that you so badly want to get a look at. The sound of him stroking himself, little grunts escaping his throat mindlessly, is so fucking tempting. 

But you listen, eyes staying on him, hoping to get some kind of praise from him for the first time in your life. Or maybe you want to keep getting debased. Maybe both. You seem to like the shame of it. 

“Gonna fuck you s’good you never forget anythin’ again. M’still pissed about that map, y’hear me?” He grunts, lifting you effortlessly to move his cock up into place. He’s so strong, and you’re so little. He can manhandle you however he wants, use you for his pleasure. And maybe you want that. 

From your mouth slips an obedient hum, your head shaking in a little nod so he knows you’re listening. You swear you see the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, but he replaces it within half a second with a grumble to maintain the tough guy look. 

His cock meets your slick after he pulls your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off. You’re not worth the time. Not after wasting that time with the map debacle. 

The pulsing head of it drags along your slit, collecting a bit of you on the tip, making a filthy mix with his precum. It’s been a minute since any intimacy for Joel, but he can’t let you know anything. Can’t show any kind of vulnerability. He keeps it in, biting his lip and grunting to avoid any embarrassing soft noises.

“Ain’t stoppin’ if you can’t take it, by th’way.” He grumbles into your ear, his tip just barely edging into your soaked cunt. You whimper, and he squeezes your waist in warning. If he didn’t have to be holding you up, he’d have hit you again. 

But, the soft noises you let out make him want more. You seem to let them out when you’re scared – or maybe it's out of arousal. Only from when he totally degrades you. He doesn’t care, he just wants to fuck you senseless.

“Could break ya’ if I wanted. Little… tight fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, head hitting the tree next to yours when his cock finally slides in. It was a fight to get in, your tight walls not stretched enough for his fat dick to fit due to your lack of experience. “Take ya’ how I fuckin’ want.’

If this was any other man, you’d cry and beg for him to stop. But Joel. It’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller. 

It hurts, but his threatening words seem to egg you on. They prod you to take it, try harder to take the thick cock that’s splitting your body right in half.

He doesn’t start slow like some guys. Joel doesn’t start slow. Ever. Joel Miller fucks, and he fucks how he wants. This isn’t about you, this is about him getting his worth back after you wasted all his damn time. 

His hips slam into you at an alarming pace, no time for you to stretch out and adjust to the movement. He’s already hitting deep enough to where, if your shirt was off, you could see the print all the way in your stomach. But no. Your shirt is on. Joel Miller doesn’t care enough to worry about a shirt, that’s foolish. He just wants pussy – no, needs it. He’s a man with priorities. 

You’re screaming, pain and pleasure. Usually he’d tell a woman to ‘shut the fuck’ up for being too loud, but you’re in the middle of the woods. Nobody around, except for the same fucking bird that’s continuing to watch you get destroyed and ripped open by a fifty-six year old. Great.

“God, baby. You’re fuckin’ helpless.” He grunts into your neck, resolve slowly slipping more. His noises get worse, louder. He doesn’t care enough anymore to pretend like this is some chore. 

He’s fucking you and he means it. 

Joel’s hips stutter after a few minutes, just in time with your own. Synced up perfectly. His rhythm is getting out of pace while you feel the pull deep in your core you haven’t felt in so long – white hot pooling in your stomach. You clench around him.

He can’t speak anymore, just like how you haven’t been able to for minutes now. All he can manage out are little grumbles into your hair, squeezing your body while he struggles with words. Getting pathetic himself.

“Fuckin’-- mm. Baby. Baby. Gon’cum soon.” 

At least he warns you. 

You could tell, anyway. The stuttering of his hips, the way he’s only hitting nice and deep now. But you’re in worse, you can’t warn him because your mouth is hung open entirely, spilling out the most pitiful string of moans that doesn’t seem to ever end. 

Without warning, you clench again. He groans, but gets louder when he feels you spill. Burst. All over his aching cock. 

“Shit, shit. You – you squirtin’?” Joel grumbles out, body spasming at the feeling of your liquids all coming out at once. Your legs are shaking, and he feels his own limbs join in. It was too much for him. 

He cums. Hard. Maybe harder than he ever has before, but you don’t have to find that bit out. 

The moment melts into a disgusting mess of simultaneous moans, whimpers, even from Joel. Despite the cold weather that was almost making you sick earlier, you feel hot. Sweaty. Both of  you.

Joel’s head comes to rest atop yours, stroking the back of your ponytail that he’d been tugging at the whole time. And for a moment – just a short moment – you thought he’d maybe take care of you after. Like a real man. 

But no. Apparently, you don’t know Joel well enough by now. He’s his own kind of man.

Once his breathing returns – somewhat – he’s back to ole’ Joel Miller. Grunts, huffs and drops you down by the tree. Tucks his spent cock back in. Before you know it, before you can speak, his pants and belt are back in place and his rifle is strapped back on his shoulder.

Your eyes shut, back scraped up from the rough tree he fucked you relentlessly against. Taking a shuddering breath, you rest for a moment, thinking that if he didn't give you any aftercare he’d at least let you have a moment to breathe. 

But again, no.

“Fuck you doin’?” 

Your single moment of silence is rudely interrupted by his southern drawl, entirely back to normal as if he didn’t have the most intense sex of his life only two minutes ago. As if forgetting it ever happened. 

And the map is back in his hand. And he looks so normal compared to you. And it makes you want to cry for whatever reason. 

There’s nothing else to do but hold back a pained whine from the soreness already building in your body, the blood you feel dripping on your back from the tree, and the metal taste of blood where he hit your lip. The slap on your cheek. The handprint on your throat. Fuck.

“C’mon, little shit. Gotta hurry. Now you wasted an hour of my time.”

[neigepomme]

✩°˖ 💫 tingling sensations / xavier x reader

synopsis: while laying down next to xavier one sunny afternoon, and scrolling on tiktok, you stumble upon some cute ASMR. with a smile on your face, you turn to your half asleep boyfriend; "baby.. have you ever felt tingles before?"

🍎 pomme's notes - something cute and cozy.. yay....

⋆ 800 words / fluff / reader is gender neutral (wearing a crop top tho!) / 2nd person

it was sometime around 6 pm, xavier was napping while laying his head on your chest as you softly stroked his hair and scrolled on your phone.

typical day off for the two of you, really. you'd slept in, only waking up when the sunlight was in your face (and even then, you had to coax your boyfriend awake through kisses), and you headed towards a cute café you had found for breakfast.

slow, cozy day. hand in his, warm spring breeze caressing your faces, bliss honestly.

and now that you got back home and grabbed a quick bite, you were lounging on the couch, basking in one another's warmth. xavier had dozed off a bit, lulled to sleep by your hand stroking his hair aimlessly. it was gonna keep on being an uneventful yet restful day, until you stumbled upon a video on your tiktok feed.

asmr on my boyfriend.

the premise was really cute. the girl on your screen was scratching away on the different textures that her boyfriend's clothes had, and he had a lazy and content smile on his face, clearly pleased with the soft attention given to him. it reminded you of the pretty blond guy softly snoring on top of you. wouldn't it be cute if you guys recreated it?

“xavier, baby, wake up. need you right now.”

he slowly raises his head, cracking one eye open as you show him your phone screen. judging from the beaming smile on your face, he could already tell what you wanted to do, and he'd be a fool to not indulge your whims, especially when they benefitted him this well. he gives you a curious hum when you shift slightly under him, and you pop the question.

“have you ever felt tingles before?”

oh, so that's what it was. xavier laughs softly, nuzzling his head back on your chest and giving you a small noise in response.

“mmh, i don't think i have, starlight. you wanna use me as a test subject? i consent.”

with a giggle, you ruffle his hair and grab a pillow to rest your neck on — it was game time. you were absolutely gonna give him tingles, and you were gonna have the time of your life doing it, too. 

“before you relax again, can you take your shirt off, xavi? that way, i can scratch your back. please?”

oooh, this is going to be good, he thought. he loved when you drew abstract lines on his back through his shirt, but skin to skin? this was going to be heaven. and so he obliged, pulling away from your embrace and taking off his shirt — now feeling your body's warmth directly on his through your crop top, he was already seeing the pearly gates.

when he laid back down, you started off with softly caressing his cheek, slowly moving down to his nape. xavier had shaved today, and though the hairs were barely noticeable, the slightly prickly sensation under your finger was a delight already. he melted under your touch, reminding you of a small cat (although he made for a pretty big cat, with the way you felt his comforting weight on yours. you personal weighed blanket if you will).

“let me know if i'm being too rough, okay?”

“mmh. you're perfect, angel.”

gosh, was your boyfriend cute right now. he was always cute, but seeing him so malleable, humming into your torso whenever you scratched him just right, was especially adorable. the hair at the nape of his neck seemed to be an especially good spot, his grip on you tightening a bit more whenever you played with his hair there.

but no full-blown goosebumps from feeling tingles yet — so your mission continued. xavier was having the time of his life, his angel laying beneath him, carefully scratching his back and whispering "is this okay?" every once in a while. he could get used to this asmr thing, honestly.

when you reached this spot between his shoulder blades, he groaned in satisfaction, and that was your cue. using your nails now, you focused on that spot and the top of his right shoulder, and you could see the goosebumps forming.

“feels so nice, starlight.. don't stop...”

your smile widened. he was fully melted on top of you, damn near purring while you continued your ministrations with a soft hum. you could see speckles of light float around the two of you, indicative of how happy xavier was feeling right now, and your heart soared.

eventually, his breathing evened out, and you could tell he was actually falling asleep. your charming prince, comfortable enough to fall asleep on top of you half-naked while you gently drew shapes on his skin. this was the life, honestly.

feeling yourself also getting lulled to sleep by the comforting weight on top of you, you wrap your arms around xavier, and drift off to sleep.

operation asmr on my boyfriend was super successful.

🍎 pomme's final notes — can i be honest i'm also falling asleep right now.. this was inspired by the channel morningASMR on youtube!! do check them out hehe

[romancherry]

caged in silk (1) – introduction

pairings ➝ dark!joel miller x dark!javier peña x dark!marcus acacius x female!reader

summary ➝ introducing you to your captors.

warnings ➝ dark content, brief mention of alcoholic parents, child labour, homelessness, guns and drugs, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

author's note ➝ hello everyone! i've been obsessed with this idea that randomly popped up in my head a few days ago and i wanna act on it as quick as possible so i don't lose interest. hope you like it.

you: an innocent young woman in her 20s navigating through life and its never-ending obstacles; your parents were abusive alcoholics and you consider the day you ran away at 16 years old to be the best day of your life. the rest didn't matter. the eventual homelessness and working 3 different jobs while balancing a smoke addiction was a thousand times better than what you had to endure before. as time passed on, you could afford rent and even dream of getting an education. it didn't matter that you had no friends whatsoever; your goal was financial fulfillment, not being a social butterfly. you could have created some lifelong connections with your coworkers, but as you ended up switching so many jobs, you figured good things never last. and heartbreak is best to be avoided.

so, in conclusion – you had no one. you meant nothing to anyone, and if you'd dissapear (once again), nobody would care.

that made you an easy target.

introduce:

marcus acacius: a man with discipline and precision. his background as an army general has not only conditioned him to assess, control and dominate any situation – but it earned him important connections with gun dealers, spies, armies and even the government. marcus operates with a quiet, calculated intensity; he sees everything. processes every possible outcome before making a move. but underneath the iron grip lies a dark obsession: a deep-seated need to possess, protect, claim. he justified his obsession with logic: you were struggling. you had no one. you needed a better life. he was the man for the job.

javier pena: javier is seduction and danger wrapped in silk. he's a very adaptable and unpredictable individual – former DEA agent turned cartel associate. he knows best how to make people trust him and how to keep them wanting more. but beneath his irresistible charm is something ruthless: a man who switched sides without hesitation, who plays the long game and always comes out on top. he has an insatiable hunger and addiction for you – he doesn't just want to own you. he wants you to want to be owned.

joel miller: joel is violence disguised as a man. he doesn't believe in morality, he views survival as a necessity. that's what makes him the perfect mercenary. if someone needs to die, he'll end their life with no hesitation. he doesn't justify or explain, he just acts. his obsession with you is primal and territorial; but there's also something softer beneath it, something dangerously close to love. he doesn't care that what they did to you was wrong. after losing two daughters, he'll tear the world apart to keep you.

[lukesvangelista]

𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐒)ʳᵍ²⁹

in which ryan goes to ohio state. you go to michigan. the rivalry interferes with your relationship when it comes to a big game at wrigley field.

warnings; ohio state/michigan rivalry, breakups

Ryan had heard some insane things in his life. Chirps from the student sections, wild mid-game taunts, and the occasional absurd take from his teammates about which fast food joint reigned supreme. But this? This was definitely up there.

“You want to what?” he asked, pausing mid-stretch as he prepared for the upcoming game this weekend.

Comfortably seated on his bed wearing his Ohio State hoodie, you met his gaze with unwavering determination, "Break up for the weekend.”

He chuckled, thinking it was a joke. “Yeah, okay.”

You, however, weren't laughing, “I’m serious.”

His smile faded, “You’re serious?"

"Dead."

Ryan blinked, trying to process your words. He wasn't sure he was hearing you correctly, so he spoke again, “You want to break up for the weekend...because of the game?”

“You got it,” you affirmed, your tone resolute, “You play for Ohio State. I go to Michigan. We’re playing each other in the Frozen Confines! We can’t be together this weekend, Ryan.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, “That’s ridiculous as hell.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is pretending I don’t want your team to get absolutely crushed,” you leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief, “I go to Michigan, Ryan. My loyalty is with the Wolverines.”

“And I’m a Buckeye,” he countered, brow furrowing, “You think I want your team to win?”

“Exactly! So how can we possibly be together this weekend?” you challenged him, throwing your hands up, “We’re enemies.”

Ryan scoffed, rolling his eyes, “We’re dating. We've been dating for three years."

“Not this weekend.”

He groaned, “Y/N.”

You gave him a pointed look, “Ryan.”

“This is dumb.”

“This is necessary,” you insisted, "We’re on opposite sides of the greatest rivalry in college sports. It’s only right.”

Ryan stared at you as if your eyes had popped out of your head, utterly dumbfounded, “We can just... I don't know...ignore the fact that it’s happening?”

“Oh, so you’re not playing in the game?” you quipped.

“That’s not what I meant.”

"How would your coach feel if I told him what you said? And your teammates?"

"Y/N... you better not say anything."

“Relax, you idiot, I won't. But you’re gonna tell me that if I show up at Wrigley wearing my Michigan gear and screaming my lungs out, you’re just gonna let it slide?” you pressed, "That you won’t be mad when I lose my voice taunting your team?”

Ryan opened his mouth to argue but the words never came. You had a point.

“You’re gonna tell me you won’t chirp my team?” you continued.

“…No,” he admitted.

“Exactly! That’s why we have to break up for the weekend. Clean break. We go in as enemies, come out as...” you hesitated, “Okay, maybe not friends, but like… amicable rivals.”

He shook his head, exhaling sharply, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You smirked at him, "And yet you know I'm right."

Ryan glared at you, his arms crossed over his chest, “You’re actually breaking up with me?"

“For the weekend,” you reiterated, hopping off his bed and making your way to the door, “Don’t worry, it’s not permanent. Unless Michigan wins. Then I might just stay single.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so," you turned to look at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing at your lips, “See you on the other side, Buckeye.”

Ryan exhaled as the door shut behind you, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling within him. This was going to be a long weekend.

Game day came quicker than he Ryan expected. Stepping onto the ice at Wrigley Field, he was enveloped by the electric atmosphere. The historic stadium, transformed into the most incredible outdoor rink that he had ever seen, buzzed with anticipation. Fans from both sides filled the stands, their shouts and taunts creating a cacophony of laughs and playful insults.

As he skated during warm-ups, his eyes scanned the sea of people dressed for one of two sides. He knew that you were out there, draped in blue and maize, your voice undoubtedly among the loudest.

The game commenced with aggression. Both Ohio State and Michigan showcased why they were two of the best teams in the country, each shift more intense than the last. Ryan was clawing at the puck with every chance he got, doing everything he could to capitalize for the Buckeyes. He would be lying if he said that you weren't in the back of his mind when doing so. Midway through the second period, however, T.J. Hughes capitalized on a defensive lapse, allowing Michigan to take a 2-0 lead. The Wolverine fans in the crowd erupted, and Ryan could almost hear your cheers through the air. Why the fuck did you have to go to Michigan?

But Ohio State wasn't finished yet. Ryan made sure of it. He and his teammates rallied. Within the final five minutes of the second period, Sam Deckhut and Noah Powell both sent the puck past Cameron Korpi, scoring to goals to tie the game. The momentum swung back and forth, each team refusing to give in.

And then as the third period began, Will Horcoff scored. 3-2, Michigan.

Three minutes later, Riley Thompson scored. 3-3, all.

With the clock ticking down in the third period, the score tied at 3-3, tension hung thick in the cold air. Every pass, every shot carried the weight of the rivalry. Everyone, both on and off the ice, could feel it.

And then?

A breakthrough for the Buckeyes.

With just 38 seconds remaining, Riley Thompson found himself in the right place at the right time. A pass from Davis Burnside landed perfectly on his stick, and without hesitation, he deflected it right into the net. The Ohio State bench, as well as the fans, erupted in excitement, and Ryan could feel his heart pumping with both joy and relief.

Not only had they just won the game, but he had his girlfriend back. And his victory made it so that you couldn't say anything bad about the Buckeyes.

After the game, the locker room was alive with celebration. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional spray of gatorade from Patrick Guzzo's water bottle filled the air. Ryan was having so much fun, but he just couldn't shake the thought of you.

After they all showered and got changed, Ryan made his way out of the stadium. The crisp Chicago air was a stark contrast to the warmth inside. As he approached the meeting spot the two of you had agreed upon before the game, he saw you. You were leaning against a pillar, your arms crossed, a Michigan beanie pulled low over your ears.

You looked up as he approached, a smirk playing on your lips, “Well, well, if it isn’t the conquering hero.”

Ryan chuckled, his arms crossing over his chest, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m a woman of my word,” you replied, “Breakup’s over. Figured I’d come congratulate you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh? No hard feelings?”

You shrugged, pushing off the pillar and stepping closer to him, “I mean, I’m devastated, don't get me wrong," your flare for the dramatics was undercut by the grin tugging at your lips, “But I’ll survive.”

He laughed, the tension of the weekend melting away, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the rivalry that had momentarily come between you guys now a shared memory. “So,” you spoke up, looping your arm through Ryan’s, “how about we grab some food before I inevitably have to listen to all my friends cry about this loss?”

Ryan grinned, tugging you closer as you guys walked through the crowd outside Wrigley Field, “Not gonna lie, hearing Michigan fans complain is gonna be the highlight of my weekend.”

You groaned, “God, I hate you.”

Ryan let out a quiet laugh, “No, you don’t.”

You exhaled dramatically, “No, I don’t.”

The two of you weaved through the mix of overjoyed Ohio State fans and dejected Michigan ones, and you let out an occasional groan whenever you passed a particularly loud and obnoxious Ohio State fan, “See, this is why we broke up for the weekend,” you muttered, “I could not have handled this if we were still together.”

Ryan smirked, “And yet here you are, walking around with a Buckeye.”

“Shut up!" you nudged him, but there was no real force behind it.

The two of you ducked into a nearby diner, the warm air immediately cutting through the Chicago cold. Ryan guided you toward a booth, letting you slide in first before settling across from her. The place was filled with a mix of hockey fans, still buzzing from the game. A few Ohio State fans spotted Ryan and congratulated him, while a group of Michigan fans near the counter were making it known that they did not care for him.

You slumped against the booth, removing the beanie that had now messed up your hair, “This is actually hell.”

Ryan just grinned, picking up a menu, “Guess you gotta deal with us being the 'champions of the west' now. But hey, at least you didn’t bet anything on the game."

You stiffened slightly. He caught it immediately.

"Y/N, what did you do?"

You winced, “Okay, so I may have...hypothetically...made a bet.”

Ryan's eyes narrowed, “With who?”

You waved a hand, trying to get his attention off of you in any way possible, “Just some of my friends from school. No big deal.”

“How much?” he asked suspiciously.

You sighed, “Not money.”

Ryan waited. Reluctantly, you continued, "I might have to wear an Ohio State jersey on campus for a day.”

Ryan nearly choked on his laughter, “Oh, this is so much better than money.”

You rolled your eyes, “I should’ve known you’d enjoy this.”

“You deserve this,” he teased, “You were chirping me during the game.”

“I was supporting my team.”

“You called me a traffic cone!"

You raised your hands in disbelief, “You were screening your own goalie! You're not even a defenseman!”

Ryan groaned, “Oh my god.”

Your guys' food arrived, and despite the chirping, there was an undeniable ease between the two of you. The rivalry might have defined the weekend, but it hadn’t changed what was underneath —what had always been there.

As you reached for a fry, Ryan tilted his head, “So, when do you have to wear the jersey?”

You sighed, “Monday.”

Ryan smirked, “Guess I’ll have to lend you one, huh?”

You rolled her eyes, “You’re too happy about this.”

“You mean my girlfriend, walking around Michigan’s campus in my jersey, after my team beat hers?” Ryan leaned forward, eyes shimmering with mischief and excitement, “Yeah, I’m pretty damn happy.”

You crossed your arms, "Who said I'm wearing your jersey? Maybe I'll wear Jake's, show him some love."

"No fucking way. You're back to being my girlfriend. We won. You're wearing my jersey."

You groaned, “I take it back. The breakup is still on.”

Ryan just laughed, reaching across the table to steal one of your fries, “Too late, love. You’re stuck with me.”

You tried to glare, but the fond smile on your lips betrayed you. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I guess I am.”

a/n; this was requested by the lovely @fantillisgirl. hope i did it justice!