#I guess I will be though at some point to burn black

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Well with Rice Krispies

You had snap crackle and pop

Mom's favorite was crackles.

[nmakii]

strayed from the main idea of this drabble… oops.

sae itoshi, who loves calling his girl ‘amorcita’. that’s fine, and all. it’s romantic, but he likes calling you his princess much more.

princess is more than just a pet name to him though. because to him, you’re truly a princess, graceful and beautiful despite your faults; someone who deserves to be given the world. he’d go to the ends of the earth to find something that doesn’t exist if you asked him to find it.

it’s not much of an exaggeration when you say that he’s down bad.

he is— he’s just very good at hiding it. he doesn’t boast about you loudly in the ways that someone like that devil— shidou— might, but he instead manages to offhandedly relate any conversation topic to you.

oddly enough, the only other time sae’s ever as talkative or passionate about something other than football, is when he’s talking about you.

that additional time where aiku asked shidou why he was making funny faces in the locker room? after that, sae mentioned, “my princess makes weird faces too. when she’s sleeping, her cheek is always pressed up to me, and it leaves a red mark in the morning. and, she can never manage to keep her mouth closed when she’s asleep. once, i was able to feed her while she was asleep.” and he sighed, silently smiling at the funny memory.

in his first interview after going public with you as his girlfriend, he immediately jumped at the opportunity to mention you. he had always thought that these interviews were an unnecessary hassle. he’s a good football player, and he’ll let his work speak for itself. “right! soo… sae, how are you adjusting to your new team?” the interviewer asks. sae thinks for a moment, his lower lip raising in a slight pout as he thinks of how to answer. “…the center forward has incredible dribbling skills, i’ll admit that. but, his shot range and goal chance percentage are awful. the rate at which he can score goals is still lukewarm.” he sighs disappointedly, “the best striker in the world seems to have not had his awakening yet. it’s annoying, but the city isn’t so bad. there’s a french bakery near my apartment that my princess and i like to frequent. she loves those flaky croissants with chocolate in them— pain au chocolat, but i tend to just get their house black coffee.” he’s recalling your typical order as if it’s the back of his hand, and the flow of his speech is much more relaxed than when he had been speaking about his new team.

and at this point, the interviewer is confused. “pardon… your ‘princess’?” he repeats, trying to confirm what he heard. sae nods, “yes, my princess; my girlfriend. she really likes those chocolate croissants. she eats about a fourth of it in just one bite. and when some hot chocolate from the inside burns her on the lip, she complains a bit and asks me to kiss it better. it’s really cheesy on her part, but i guess i don’t mind if it’s for her.” even sae doesn’t know just what he’s saying. he didn’t mean to reveal this much about how he feels. …yet, here he was, going on like a pining gentleman in love, and remembering how the softness of your lips felt against his as the piping hot chocolate pressed and stuck onto his lips as well.

in his eyes, you’re as close to perfection as there ever will be. it didn’t matter whether or not your physical appearance changed, or if you suddenly decided to change your career path— as long as you stayed as who you are, he’d be at your side.

and to be worthy of such a perfect human being; his princess. he has to become a king— a king of the field. one who domineers the field with his spatial awareness alone, and passes to the one who can keep up with his vision; the greatest egoist. that’s who he needs to become in order to earn your love; to become worthy of being the one that gets to love you every day and every night.

but even so, it’d still never be enough for him. you always make him want to push his limits further, and show you just how amazing he is.

sae’s really down bad for his princess.

[strawbeerossi]

Trapped In A SUV

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Unit Chief!Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever you and Spencer are on the way to investigate the house of a suspected unsub, the SUV breaks down in the middle of nowhere. It’s a shame that you are both practically cooking in the Texas heat.

Content/Warnings: Case matter but nothing specific, extreme heat, undressing, Spencer is a bit of a pervert, car sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 1.6K

Kinktober Day Thirteen: Car Sex

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

The sound of the engine completely blowing out had you groaning softly as the smoke was coming from the hood of the car. In hindsight, you two probably shouldn’t have left in such a hurry in the first car you could get your hands on. However with a search warrant to search the house of a suspected unsub who you’ve been hunting for days, there was no time to waste.

Until you were stuck on the side of the road, your hand shielding your eyes from the harsh sun as Spencer tugged open the SUV’s hood to be met with a black cloud of smoke. “Jesus,” He muttered, using his hand to waft away the evidence of a vehicle that needed urgent repair. “We are stuck here until someone can pick us up.” You filled in the unit chief as you frowned softly. “Emily said that they had a lead when I was texting her. They will be here whenever they can get here..”

“Of course. That’s just our luck isn’t it.” The male pursed his lips as he pushed the hood shut. “We should get back in the car before we melt out here.” You commented, already feeling beads of sweat forming from the blistering heat. 

“We won’t melt but it’s a good idea. The engine isn’t too far gone to the point we won’t have AC. I’m trying to avoid a heat stroke.” Spencer spoke while heading to the drivers side while you had returned to the passenger seat. The blow of the air wasn’t as strong as you preferred it to be but you counted your blessings, you could’ve been stranded and left to cook in the heat.

“Well. I guess you and I are on our own.” He murmured, his gaze on you while his eyes were widening as he watched you work to unbutton your shirt. “What? I’m sweating my ass off. It’s not like I’m getting completely naked.” You stated, now moving to shrug the button up off of your shoulders and tossing it to the side. “You’ve seen a woman in a bra, I’m sure.” You muttered while leaning back against the seat. 

His golden eyes were focused on your chest once your eyes were closing, the swell of your breasts being eye-catching in the black bra. It was like they were threatening to spill over the lace. His cheeks were bright red as he noticed a bead of sweat trail down your chest as it rose and fell steadily from your breathing.

He could feel his pants tighten, constricting his hardening cock as he gazed at your body. As he was so focused though, he hadn’t noticed your eyes opening or the fact that he caught you. The hungry look on his face had you intrigued. You didn’t expect for him to be watching you so intently, to have to look as if he was holding himself back from touching your bare skin. “Would you mind if I took my pants off too? I’m burning up here.” 

“W-what? I mean, if it’ll be comfortable go ahead..” His voice was at a higher pitch, feeling caught as he was bringing his hands up to loosen his tie. 

“You know that you can shed some clothes too, right? I highly doubt the team will judge us.” You suggested, biting back a smirk of amusement while Spencer was letting out a squeak in response. “I don’t know.” He began, his own body going against him as his hands were moving to undo the buttons on his shirt. Waiting for the rest of the team was gonna be fun, at least. 

After both of you were stripped down, it was like Spencer was desperately avoiding your gaze, his face cherry red. This was a lot. He wasn’t actually thinking that anything but embarrassment would come out of even attempting to look at your body again. You obviously caught him staring.

You’d turned up the air the best you could, leaning forward. With a moan of satisfaction at the coolness hitting your skin, you turned your head to face Spencer for a reaction. His body was frozen in place as he kept his gaze out the windshield, the smoke coming out of the hood less than it was earlier. The moan was enough to make him shift uncomfortably from his throbbing cock in his pants. 

“Hey,” You began while leaning over the console separating you both, offering a smile. “What are you thinking about?” You mused, knowing all too well what you were doing as you were squeezing your arms together slightly, making your tits push up in the bra you had on. 

“I-I was just thinking of how, uh, hot it is outside.” And here. Jesus. 

“You’re so red, oh, Spence..” You gave a faux pout while bringing a hand up to pat his cheek, thumb running over his skin. Spencer felt like he was going to have a heart attack. This was a lot to handle and you seemed to be eating up every reaction. “I’m fine..” He spoke softly while leaning into your touch.

What happened next happened in a flash, you pushed yourself over the small barrier between you both before you were settled in his lap. The man’s face was red, eyes widened and mouth agape in shock as your clothed cunt was brushing over the very obvious bulge in his underwear. 

“I knew it! You were looking at me!” You laughed in victory, hands moving to rest against his shoulders once his long arm was scrambling to push the car seat back to make sure that you were comfortable without having to be shoved against the steering wheel.

“Can you blame me? You practically got naked without needing any prompting.” Spencer found his voice again as he was bringing his hands to rest against your hips, thumbs running over your soft skin. “Plus.. You look so gorgeous, I can’t help it.” 

“Spencer.” You gush, nudging his shoulder while you offer a smile. It was your turn to feel your cheeks heat up from the compliment. “”Well.. I can assist you with getting rid of your… Issue.” You wiggled your eyebrows while moving to test the waters of rolling your hips against his, his breath hitching as he let his head tilt against the leather seat. “God, yeah, okay. I’ll bite. Help me out here.” He chuckled, his hands squeezing your hips while you leaned down to press your lips against his in a soft kiss. 

As your lips were slotting against one another, Spencer was in a frenzy to get your panties pulled to the side before letting his finger swipe through your folds and brush against your clit, grinning at the gasp muffled into his mouth. You were pulling from the kiss to lift your hips, using your hands to squeeze the tent in his boxers to elicit a groan before getting his cock out of his boxers. “I hate to rush this but I don’t think I can wait any longer.” The both of you were in agreement as Spencer’s hands were grabbing a handful of your ass before you were aligning his swollen tip with your leaking cunt and sinking yourself down.

Both of your groans mixed in the SUV, your ass hitting the front of his thighs as you gave yourself a moment to get adjusted. You could feel every curve, every vein as your cunt was welcoming the intrusion. Letting your hips roll at a slow pace, you were bringing your hands to grip his shoulders. 

“Does it feel good? Bet you’ve wanted to do this for years. You like fucking your boss while on the job?” Spencer’s words caused a moan to rip from your throat. “What about you? Fucking your subordinate because you couldn’t keep your eyes to yourself?” You spoke back while Spencer chuckled. “You had your tits out, I’m a man. We are pretty notorious to have an attraction to the female physique.” He chuckled.

“Fair enough,” you spoke softly while continuing with your movements, getting into a good rhythm that was eventually disturbed by the male thrusting upwards, your pussy swallowing his thick cock with no issue. 

“Fuck, don’t stop.” You cursed, the windows fogging over from the actions inside as a thin layer of sweat was spreading over both of your bodies, the smell of sex starting to fill the SUV, the vehicle rocking at a steady pace as you both were wrapped up in your rendezvous.

As you fucked like rabbits, you were leaning down to press your lips against his once more. You never thought of having sex with him in a car before, mainly because you always believed it would’ve been different. Maybe after being put together in the same hotel room or the both of you letting out pent up stress in Spencer’s office.

“I’m gonna cum.” Spencer warned, voice husky as he let out a deep groan at the way your velvety walls were clenching around him, his cock twitching inside of you. “Ah!” He panted, a bruising grip on your hips as he roughly thrusted upwards, damn near making your head hit the roof of the car. 

The sheer force behind each thrust was enough to have your body trembling, your head falling onto his shoulder as you let out a soft cry of his name, teeth biting down onto his shoulder as your creamy cum was rolling down his cock. He wasn’t deterred, instead now groaning as he couldn’t help but follow right behind. You could feel his cum gush inside of your cunt, eyes fluttering shut as you clutched his shoulders as your partially clothed bodies were pressed against one another’s while coming down from the high of your mixed orgasms. 

“I guess I should probably get off of you, huh?” Your words were slurred while Spencer let your hand gently rub your back. “Not yet..” He chuckled, pointing the air vents towards the both of you.

“We have a little bit. Let’s just enjoy the air.”

[blasphemousclaw]

WHO IS THIS SAULTRY LITTLE BINCH

ok this is my extremely unpolished breakdown of MESSMER THE IMPALER from the shadow of the erdtree trailer

The first thing that stands out about this dude is that he’s wearing EVERY possible symbol of treason against the Erdtree: SNAKES and FLAME

Messmer has snakes on his sigil, helm, and 2 snake friends who have dragon wings. Volcano Manor is known for its statues of winged serpents, but the wings are feathered, not dragonlike. these snakes are bright red-orange and are very unlike the Great Serpent we all know and love, who has a heavier build and is blue-grey in color. 

Regarding snakes as symbolism, the Duelist Helm description reads,

“Bronze helm decorated with innumerable snakes. Worn by gladiators who were driven from the colosseum. The wearer becomes a slightly easier target for foes. The snake is viewed as a traitor to the Erdtree, and the audience delighted in seeing these bronze effigies beaten and battered.”

We can bet that whoever is associating themselves with snakes is a confirmed Erdtree hater (Rykard, hello!!!) or perhaps, this dude could even be part of the reason why snakes are considered traitorous in the first place?

In addition to us seeing Messmer wield fire, this line from the trailer (which I think is spoken about Messmer but not by Messmer) implies that he’s known for his fire: “Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death. In the embrace of Messmer’s flame.” 

It’s well known that flame is in many ways a taboo power; particularly the flame of the Fell God, which has the power to burn the Erdtree (the cardinal sin). Messmer’s fire is weird, in some ways it reminds me of the Rune of Death since it starts out black and turns red, but it’s also far too orange to simply be the Rune of Death’s power. 

There’s also this description of the DLC: “The Land of Shadow. A place obscured by the Erdtree. Where the goddess Marika first set foot. A land purged in an unsung battle. Set ablaze by Messmer’s flame.”

I’d guess that the Land of Shadow was the place of Marika’s first conquest, and perhaps Messmer either aided her in razing it or that’s just something he did later? 

so WHO is this dude????

for starters, his name is Messmer the Impaler — M like Marika! Melina, Malenia, Miquella, Mogh, and Morgott. seems to be a pattern...

He says in the trailer, “Mother, wouldst thou truly Lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light?” 

Whoever Messmer’s mother is, she is in a position to “sanction lordship” meaning to give official permission for a lordship to take place. that screams Marika — she is THE goddess, and is responsible for guiding Tarnished to becoming Elden Lord. I can’t think of anyone else who might be called Mother who is in such a position as to allow someone to ascend to the position of Lord. He's also sitting in the same type of throne that the demigods sat in that we see in Morgott's cutscene.

theres 2 ways to interpret this line: 

Messmer could referring to himself when he says this; as if he’s saying, would my mother truly allow me to become Lord even though I’m so dark and edgy?? in a kind of sarcastic way. the flames he produces start out black, and he’s covered himself symbols treasonous to the Erdtree. OR, he’s referring to us, the Tarnished, when he says this; as if he’s saying, would you really let a person with such little light inside them become lord, mother?? (rude!) I’d say we need more context to determine exactly what he means

ALSO, interestingly, his left eye is sealed shut… you know who else has their left eye sealed shut? THAT’S RIGHT… OUR FRIENDS MELINA AND RANNI

The scarseal and soreseal items of Marika and Radagon are also carved into eyeballs… could eye trauma be an empyrean trait?? could Messmer also be an empyrean, one who the current demigods didn’t know the existence of??? 

with all that being said, I really doubt that this guy is Rykard or Rykard’s child as I’ve seen some people speculate… these other clues in the trailer point towards him being another, separate demigod. so what do we make of all the similar imagery?? I think that Messmer might be working against the Erdtree toward his own ends, and he’s embracing similar powers that Rykard did when he turned traitor. 

who is he then? I think he’s a demigod child of Marika, and possibly of Radagon because of the hair (unless his hair color comes elsewhere? a curse?). I think he got banished to the shadow realm for treason reasons, given the heretical symbols. perhaps he was an empyrean with his own agenda who was disposed of by Marika, like the Gloam Eyed Queen? perhaps he has ambitions to return to the real world and become Lord, destroying the Tarnished who might take his throne?

I did this instead of sleeping I hope you’re all happy

[plasticferal]

can u plsss write a Matt smut where the reader is like obsessed with his teeth and then she kind of jokes ab licking his teeth but shes not actually joking and then u know the rest

take it or leave it | matt sturniolo.

authors note: this was so fun to write. here’s some kind of soft, lust filled bff!matt turned lovers.

warnings: fem reader, not obscene or 18+ but read at your own discretion. a lot of dialogue, light biting, mark leaving, explicit language.

you just can't stop staring at your best friend. all he's doing is chewing on a paper straw, swirling it around his soft drink. his eyes are glued to his screen, scrolling through his phone, both of his elbows planted on the dining table.

"i can feel you staring," matt talks with the straw still in his mouth, flashing his perfect teeth with a conceited smirk. you scoff, digging your fork back into the dessert that sits in front of you, to avoid the interrogation you feel coming your way.

"i didn't say stop," you feel his eyes burn holes into you, tone earnest and deep, just waiting for you to glance up at him again.

"wasn't even staring," you speak through a muffled mouthful of cake, not caring if he sees the food in your mouth. he's the closest person in your life, he's probably seen worse.

"real sexy, kid" he teases, staring at your mouth and chuckling as you cover it to swallow your food, flipping him off from across the table.

"no for real, what were you looking at? like be specific," he asks, placing his phone screen down on the table, shuffling in his chair and adjusting his posture. you raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he's on about.

"i can't just admire my best friend?" you sarcastically smile and bat your eyelashes at him, resting your chin into the palm of your hands.

"specifics, go." matt isn't having it, and you drop the act fast.

you ponder on your answer for a moment, or at least pretend to. you know exactly what you want to say but you don't need him getting a big head. well, bigger. he's a walking, talking, humble brag. especially around you.

"ah, okaaaay," you pout your lips with contemplation.

"your eyes i guess. they're pretty. you know that, though" you shrug, prodding at your dessert again, not having any intention on finishing it at this point. matt has you cornered with his new train of thought.

"boring, next." he deadpans, throwing his head back with an eye roll before looking at you again. he folds his arms over his chest, leaning back leisurely.

"fine. ah, your teeth. i'm like obsessed with them. is that a better answer?" you quip, grabbing your plate and pushing away from the table to make your way to the sink.

you hear matt behind you let out an audible "huh?" and can picture the confusion on his face. you don't know what it is about his teeth, or his smile in general. you just get stunned at how perfect they are, the way they just suit his face so much.

they just look like they could form the perfect bite in your skin. he's always chewing a new flavoured gum, flashing them subtly past his perfectly pink lips, and his breath always smells nice. it's weirdly inviting. all thoughts you absolutely shouldn't be having about matthew.

"hang on, rewind. my teeth?" there's an amused underlining to his response, and you just wish you could take back what you said, joke or not.

you rinse the plate off and immediately ignore him, drying your hands with paper towel before bee-lining for the bin in the small dark corner of the room.

"you got your answer, matthew. get over it," you exhale, tossing it into the black rubbish bag.

"no no, i'm not done with you yet," you hear his chair make a disturbing scratchy squeak against the vinyl floors with how fast he pushes his chair back, following where your body is moving.

you walk around the dining table in the opposite direction of him, but he changes directions to match yours. you collapse onto the couch, sitting cross legged and he falls into the spot right next to you, despite having the entire couch. your shoulders are touching and his knee his touching yours.

"you were staring at my teeth and now i need to know why," matt requests, leaning one elbow up on the back of the couch, facing you completely.

"i can't answer tha-"

"y/n" he cuts you off seriously.

"i don't know, okay? drop it, matthew." you push back with frustration, not understanding why he can't. it's either he's pushing your buttons on purpose or he can sense the subject easily taking a turn in a different direction.

"i'm not trying to piss you off. i just wanted know. sorry" his voice softens, and he shifts so he's facing the t.v.

you almost feel bad snapping at him, considering you instigated his reaction in the first place by not justifying it straight away.

you bite your nails, trying to avoid talking. it's so hard with matt. he just always brings it out of you. looking at him while he watches the screen ahead of you just makes you yearn to hear his voice again. he's so quiet for the most part that when you get him out of his shell you don't ever want him to stop.

"i've always liked your teeth. i don't know what it is. i wish i could explain it but i can't," you speak shyly, a very rare feeling around him.

you have literally shared every waking thought with this man. it just feels so different when it involves him personally. on a physical descriptive level. matt leans his head back on the massive couch cushion, giving you a lazy half grin, looking up at you through hooded eyes.

"do you just like staring at them or do you wanna like, touch them?" he flashes his teeth like a vampire, and you push his face away with a laugh, knowing he's teasing with good intention. he chuckles, pushing your own hand back into your body.

"you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"not until i can wrap my head around it, no" he folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits and they disappear under his oversized hoodie, snickering at his own defence.

he looks you in the eyes, the same fiery stare he gives you when he's about to say something out of pocket, you can read him like a book.

"you wanna touch 'em?"

"matt," you scold, knowing whatever he has planned is just to keep this joke lingering. or what you think is a joke to him.

"i'm serious, let's see if we can get to the bottom of this little fetish of yours" he's so pleased with his words, grinning like an idiot as he nestles his face closer to yours.

"i'd get more pleasure out of it with my tongue," you chortle, then pause suddenly, not believing what you just said out loud.

you force your face to plaster a look on it that says 'i'm joking' but there's no part of what you just said that matt is taking comically.

"go on." matt replies.

"what's gotten into you, tonight?" you have a half simper half befuddled look as you lean back to make sure you're seeing him right.

making sure you're speaking to matt, not someone posing as him with how bold and absurd he's been acting for the past few minutes. he's always being flirtatious, in a bantering and unalloyed manner. this felt different, he's being a lot more direct. a lot less blithe.

"i am literally giving you one chance to do this and then i'm never bringing it up again. take it or leave it, y/n"

"open your mouth, then.” you say in a ‘i bet you won’t’ tone, not believing he actually will. you’re taken aback when he tilts his head up lightly, an innocent look on his face when he parts his mouth, creating a perfect oval.

“you’re seriously okay with this?” you ask, beginning to lean forward, tempting and just waiting for the moment he pulls away, or snaps his mouth closed. he nods, mouth still open.

you know him well enough by now to understand that when matt says he’ll never mention it again, he means it. he’s petty like that.

“fuck it, m’god” you mumble, cupping the side of his jaw, fingertips resting under his ear and being tickled by his hair, pulling him to you.

your breaths intertwine as you hover over his mouth, your lips don’t touch when you poke your tongue out and let it slide behind his top teeth and trail across the sharp edge, slowly, left to right. when you pull away, you observe him.

matt closes his mouth, sucking his teeth and plastering a thoughtful look on his face. you wait for his response.

“well?” you can only wait for so long before you’re trying to entice him to say something, anything.

he adjusts himself on the lounge, full body facing you at this point, if he was pushed up any closer he’d be on top of you.

“just like, out of curiosity. can you do it again?” he asks bashfully. he did say take it or leave it. so you take it, while he’s dangling it in front of you.

this time, you curve your hand gently around the back of his neck to guide his face. tilting your head slightly before pulling him in. you lick the back of the teeth again, even slower than the first time. you can feel matt holding his breath, and the taste of the root beer he just had still lingering.

matt takes a deep breath when you part from him again, flaring his nostrils slightly and sucking on the inside of his cheek. he looks confused, in a content way. but confused nonetheless.

you stare at him, memorising this look on his face. without breaking his stare with you, matt reaches for a pillow and throws it over his lower body, holding it in place. before he has a chance to set it onto his lap, you glance down to see the bulge forming under his black shorts.

“did you like my tongue in your mouth, matthew?” your words are jovial, but he turns away from you after you question him, looking quite literally anywhere else.

“no-i,i mean. fuck, i don't know. no." he rambles, response being faster than his brain can even register, not pulling out the best choice of words from his vocabulary.

“no? is that why you let me do it twice?” you tease, turning the table on him.

"you're right," he pauses.

"maybe we should make it three. for good luck." he looks back at you with a red hue on his cheeks, simpering smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he hugs the pillow on his lap.

"only if you ask nicely," you squint your eyes, and he rolls his.

"i'm not beggin' for it. no way." he shakes his head, boston accent coming through a lot thicker when he's defensive. it happens a lot, and that's how you know you have him cornered.

"your call, matty. take it or leave it." the front you're putting on for him is a fraud, having a gut feeling that it's the only cue he needs to surrender. he's silent for a solid minute.

"fuck, jesus, okay." he finishes, grabbing your face this time. he caresses your jaw, and his touch is so firm and so warm.

the pillow between your bodies is like a barrier, but he pushes up against it hard to bring you as close to his face as you can. you brace yourself for him to open his mouth again, but instead, your lips collide.

your eyes close instinctively and his soft, wet lips move with yours, taking your bottom lip between the kiss, and letting his tongue slide in and dance across your own. slowly he pulls away, fluttering inches over your mouth instead of distancing himself.

"i don't know, i don't know why i just-" matt is still touching your face through his panic-stricken words.

you don't even counter his sentence before grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him back to your mouth. you shove the pillow off the lounge in-between your bodies with your knee while shifting your body weight onto his lap, an easy transition considering how close you've been the whole time.

matt grabs your waist immediately, securing you on top of him and deepening the kiss. you feel your throat shake with his small, desirous moan into your mouth. you sink all of your body weight onto him and can feel his dick underneath you growing harder, heat radiating from between his legs.

the kiss becomes heavier, more desperate and messy, missing each others mouths and clashing your teeth, taking breaths for a split second before attacking each other's lips again. your nails dig into his shoulders and matt's hands lower, stationing on your upper thigh.

you're in such a state of disbelief but ignore every doubt or worry you're forcing yourself to have. you've mentally convinced yourself this is a dream. you're not actually grinding into your bestfriend's groin, making out with him and having his thumbs get closer and closer to your heat, feeling wet already at the friction.

matt kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek bone, the tip of your nose, then your jaw. he trails the kisses on your jaw lower and lower, grazing his teeth along your delicate skin until he reaches he crease of your neck just under your ear, and you lean into him as much as you possibly can.

"you like my teeth so much, wait until you see what they can do to your neck," he forces deeply against your skin, biting at your earlobe.

"god, matt," you exhale.

you feel a sharp, stinging suck to your neck, making you gasp. he pulls your skin into his mouth, tongue rubbing the area that he's suffocating in his bite. he pulls away, making a sharp sound when he lets go. he repeats the same thing just underneath his first bite, and your body is twisting and distorting in his arms. you tug at his hair with a warning.

"you’re gonna have to explain those marks." you tremble, yet not stopping him. he taunts a stifled laugh.

"don't care," he starts, pulling your shirt off your shoulder and sucking another deep purple mark on your collar bone.

"i'll spell my name out on your skin if i have to." it’s like he’s a trance, trailing his middle finger along the bites he just left before looking up at you with a dazed smile.

his chest is rising and falling prominently, both of you catching your breath after the intense session. matt gently presses his lips to yours again, and you lean your forehead against his. he grips at the bottom hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric.

"if i knew my teeth would get you on top of me, i would have let you lick em' sooner," he has a crooked, dopey grin on his face. you blush, flustered at his words.

"is this is insane? you don't think you're gonna regret it?" you're cautious with your words, voice gentle, head still leaning against his and your fingers playing with the hair creeping on the nape of his neck.

"i could never regret you." he shakes his head softly, making you smile and peck another gentle kiss on his lips. you know he means his words, and they make you want to melt into a puddle.

"smile for me quickly," you banter, holding onto his shoulders but pulling back to look at his face properly.

he covers his face with his big hands and you let out a hearty laugh, attempting to pry them off and begging him to stop hiding.

"matt! you'll let me shove my tongue down your throat but can't smile for me?" your stomach hurts with the laughter caused by the sheer fight he's putting up covering his face.

when you finally get him to drop his hands he has the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. smiling ear to ear, and eyes closed shut, putting on a show for you. he drops his face quickly once you've had your time to look, and has those signature tired and heavy eyes make an appearance once again.

you lean in, slowly, so slow. your face is drawing him in like a magnet, him following your moves to meet in the middle. he flashes his teeth once again, and you run the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip, feeling his teeth too, budging his mouth open.

"now you're just taking advantage of it," his raspy voice speaks, pulling you back to his mouth by your neck and leading with his tongue, letting it slide in and moaning into your parted lips. they finally sink into each others after teasing each other, seeing who falls into the kiss first.

your tongues fight for dominance and matt grabs the back of your neck hard, forcing you to stay where you are. you're tilting left and he's tilting right as you focus on breathing through your nose to stay attached to each other as long as you can.

you can literally feel matt take his time to explore your mouth, circling every inch he possibly can. he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard, making you gasp before pulling back and letting go, both of your mouths wet and glistening with each others saliva.

matt wipes your mouth with his thumb, applying enough pressure but still being gentle. he's staring at your skin before his eyes fixate on those marks he left earlier.

"oh fuck, they're pretty bad" he giggles, and you roll off his lap with a groan, slapping your hand over your neck as if to hide them from him. your legs drape over his thighs and you can feel him looking at you.

you hide from him by sinking into the lounge for no good reason other than you think somehow it'll make the marks disappear, or manifest that it does.

"i didn't even bring makeup to cover it," you fake cry, seeing how bad it could make him feel, but he doesn't budge. matt slaps your thigh as if to say 'i'm not buying it' then rubs your legs soothingly.

"you're not covering them up. i won't let you leave the house if you do, no other option." matt is demanding but lighthearted in his words.

"oh no, i can't leave, what a shame," you dramatically flail your hand to your temple like an old school movie scene, and matt pokes your rib to get you to snap out of it.

"if you ever want to see my teeth again i'd watch the dramatics, honey" and those words coming from him alone make you cut the act, flushing red and sitting up properly.

you don't know how he's managed to whip you into line, usually being the other way around, but you're not risking it.

you've somehow taken more than you could ever ask for from him, and you're still anxious that you've bitten off more than you can chew. no pun intended.

regardless, you're in ignorant bliss. you'll take everything you can get from matt, and more, if he's willing to give it to you. which at this point, you're sure he is.

[turcott3]

listen here my concept on matt was being a good friend of his and you've never experimented or did really anything much with guys before so you nervously but boldly approach him and ask if you could practice giving him head and he guides you through it step by step .......... bye i had to.

21st

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, wine, oral sex male receiving, kissing

masterlist and part two

-

you and matt sat distant on the long sectional long after everyone had left your 21st birthday celebration. you’d been best friends with the boy as long as you could remember so you asked if he would stay the night with you like old times.

“this wine is actually really good.” matt says breaking the silence.

“yeah it is, that’s why i bought it.” you smirk.

“now y/n, how did you buy this wine last week? just a question.

“well let’s just say the ‘how’ is cut up in my garbage right now.” you giggle, cracking a smile.

“you sneaky sneaky girl.” you points at you.

“as always.” you giggle, downing the rest of your glass. the thing about wine that differed from the other things you drank is that it makes you honest. you were barely even buzzed, but wine brought out the honesty in you.

“wow it’s so crazy, i’m 21 and i still haven’t even actually hooked up with a guy.” you scoff.

“you’re not a virgin though? i’m confused.” he adds.

“well i guess the better word would be properly. he stuck it in, nut, and then left.”

“wow.”

“did i really never tell you that?” you ask, sitting up on the couch and setting your glass on the coffee table.

“no?” he replies giggling, doing the same.

“it’s kind of embarrassing.” you reply as he gets up and sits closer to you on the couch.

“why’s it embarrassing?”

“it just is. i don’t wanna be 21 and completely unexperienced.” you say as silence rung out in your living room.

“hey matt?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“yeah.”

“can you….. teach me some….. stuff?” you asked practically in a whisper, a blush burning on your cheeks as you stared at the floor.

“teach you what?” he replies, using his fingers to guide your gaze back to his.

“i don’t know, i just-“

“yes i can y/n, i was messing with you.” he giggles.

“oh okay.” you reply, the blush burning darker.

“don’t be shy now y/n, you can trust me.” he says brushing your hair behind your shoulders.

“i know i can trust you matt, i’m just nervous.” you reply picking at the skin of your nails.

“would you feel more comfortable if we went to your room?” he asks softly, running a soft hand up your thigh. you only nod in response as the tall boy stands up in front of you.

“come here.” he mutters as you reach for him. he picks you up, your legs latching around his waist as he carries you to your bedroom. carefully, he shuts your door behind you and stops in his tracks.

“look at me pretty girl.” he says, doing as you’re told you pick your head up off his shoulder and lock eyes with him, a smile spreading across his face before locking his lips with yours gently and respectfully. you moved your hands to grab onto his face, begging to deepen the kiss. you had never imagined you’d be in this position with your lifelong best friend but at the same time it felt so familiar to you. you felt safe in his embrace and absorbed the love from his affection deeply. regretfully, he breaks apart the kiss, setting you down carefully on the bed. you sat up on your knees and looked up at the brunette who looked down on you with a soft gaze in his eyes.

“now what is it you want me to teach you exactly?” he asks, squatting down to your level, his hand placed gently on top of your hand that rested on your thigh.

“oh um, anything. i really don’t mind.” you reply shyly.

“do you feel comfortable getting undressed for me or is that not okay?” he asks.

“i think im comfortable.”

“okay just take off some layers until you want to stop, is that okay?” he asks gently and you nod, removing your shirt revealing the black lace bra you’d bought yourself for your last birthday. you notice matt also removing his shirt.

“matt you don’t have t-“

“yes i do. it’s only fair. if you’re gonna be vulnerable, so am i.”

“okay.” you reply, blushing as you shimmied out of your jean shorts, him removing his jeans and tossing them to the side.

“i think this is good.” you say, very aware of your bareness.

“okay.” he says as you look back up at him.

“do i look okay?” you ask with a gleam in your eye.

“gorgeous.” he smiles, bending over and reconnecting your lips softly for a few moments.

“okay, i’m gonna teach you how to give head, that alright?” he asks and you nod eagerly. now that you’d seen him in this light, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to see him another way, and that didn’t bother you.

slowly, he pushed the waistband of his boxers down, revealing his soft cock. at first glance he was already big and that made you nervous as to what was to come.

“give me your hand.” he asks quietly and you do so. gently, he wraps your hand around his length.

“okay, now carefully but not too carefully, jerk me off.” he says and you do so, pumping your hand slowly up and down his cock. his hand wrapped back around yours moving you a little bit faster before letting go. you keep the speed and feel the blood begin to rush to his length. he thickened in your hand quickly as he muttered and mumbled words you couldn’t make out above you.

“you’re doing so good y/n.” he says.

“you’re so big matt.” you say before looking up at him with a smirk on his face.

“give me your hand.” he requests and you do so, removing your hand from his dick and holding it up to him. slightly, he bends over and spits a puddle of saliva into your hand.

“now do that again.” he continues and you do so, working the liquid into the skin of his swollen cock.

“good girl.” he mutters, a blush creeping into your cheeks once again.

“okay, are you ready babygirl?” he asks, using two fingers to tilt your chin upward to him.

“yes.” you reply lowly.

“i’ll start easy on you, open your mouth a little bit and stick out your tongue a bit as well.” he says and you do so, earning a nod of approval from the brunette.

“now take me into your hand, and put the tip onto your tongue.” he says and you do as your told, placing his wet, pink tip onto your tongue.

“now if you want you can brush your tongue along the underside of my tip,” he says and you begin to do so, “yeah just like th- fuck, it’s so-“

“sensitive.” you smirk, taking him away from your mouth for a moment.

“yeah, that.” he replies as your put it right back wear it was.

“now you can kind of take your tongue where ever you like, you can move all the way down to the base or you can circle the tip, whatever feels comfortable to you.” he says and you act upon his words, dragging your wet, warm tongue down his shaft to the base of his cock. you moved your way back up, circling the tip just like you’d been told.

“is this okay?” he asks, holding your hair in a ponytail.

“mhm.” is all you reply as you work your tongue magic on his thick cock.

“now, if you’re ready, you’re gonna protect your teeth with your lips and start to take some of the shaft into your mouth.” he says and you do so, making an ‘o’ shape with your mouth you take some of him into your mouth, continuing to pay close attention to detail with your tongue.

“yes just like that.” he grunts as you make it just less than half way down his shaft before you begin to feel your gag reflex. quickly, you take him out of your mouth and look up at him.

“am i doing okay?”

“you are doing perfectly, is something wrong?”

“no, just don’t know how much i can take.” you sigh, avoiding a giggle,

“try to take a little more for me baby.” he asks and you nod, carefully taking him back into your mouth, pushing more of his cock in. you make it a moment further before gagging and pulling him out, spit webbing from your lips.

“god, i’m so close im sorry.” you sigh out.

“don’t apologize, here, hold onto your thumb like this, it’s shuts off your gag reflex.” he says and you copy his hand. using your free hand, you take his cock back into your mouth, your other hand gripping mercilessly onto your thumb, praying that maybe you could impress him. much to your surprise, you took him with ease, his happy trail tickling your nose as he bottomed out in your throat. you pulled him out with a pop, breathing heavily to get air back, not realizing you’d been holding your breath.

“that was so good baby, do you wanna try bobbing your head?” he asks and you do so, trying to mimic the same rhythm you used with your hand, your tongue tracing the bottom of his thick shaft.

“god you’re amazing.” he groans as his grip on your hair grows tighter, not pressuring you to move any other way. you continued this seemingly perfect routine, his moans and grunts growing closer together, his cock swelling even more. you could tell he was about to bust, as much as he didn’t want this night to end.

“oh fuck i’m gonna cum y/n.” he says lowly as you take him all the way, his warm, milky climax spurting down your throat, you pulled him out slightly, allowing him to finish on your tongue before you impressively, swallow his nut.

“you’re a fucking natural.” he scoffs, a smile spreading across his face as you wiped your lips from the mixture of saliva and cum.

“really?”

“god yes.” he says, tackling you to your bed pressing sweet kisses all over your face.

“so, can we do this again sometime?” you ask, face inches away from him.

“oh yeah? what’s our next lesson?” he replies.

“what about that, but on me?” you smirk.

“so the next one is you grading me?” he giggles.

“duh.” you reply, “or maybe we can call it the final, and we can go all the way?” you continue and he hugs you to his chest tightly.

“are you sure?”

“yes matt, i trust you. god you’re amazing.”

“i just can’t wait to show you the good sex you actually deserve. i in fact will not, stick it in, nut and then leave.” he laughs.

“well id hope not, better live up to the hype.”

“i won’t let you down.” he smirks reconnecting your lips.

“we never specified when this next ‘lesson’ was.” he sighs.

“soon. very soon.” you reply.

it was moments later that the two of you got cozy, deciding that maybe you should sleep together in the bed instead of a few feet apart on a sectional in your living room. and maybe you shouldve done this way sooner than your 21st birthday party.

[justanothermemestrider]

"That's My Girl" - Jago Sevetarion x F! Reader

Ask thee and ye shall receive. Here's a fic based on the sparring headcanon from my Sevetar Assorted Headcanons. The sypnosis: Sev takes you down to the training mat to help you train some sword craft, and things get... spicy

Hope yall ready for some heresy.

CW: NSFW, MDNI

Apologies for grammar and spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

"I really don't see why this is necessary."

"Really?" Jago asks. "Sweetheart, have you seen what the people on this ship are like?"

"Well yeah, sure," you say. "But I've got you. And if you're not around, Talos and Cyrion always look out for me."

Jago clicks his tongue, twirling the wooden swords he's currently holding in both hands as he considers your words. "That is true," he admits. "But even then, there is always the chance- no matter how small- that you may be caught out alone on this ship." He offers you one of the swords with a smile. "As such, you need to prepared."

You give him a long, unamused look, eyes shifting between his proferred wooden sword and wry, lopsided smile. The skin of his face is a mess of scars and callouses, but underneath all of that is a strong, almost handsome visage with broad cheek bones and a square jaw. His hair is slicked back save for a handful of thin bangs that tumble over his forehead to frame his eyes and nose. Jago's smile broadens into a grin. "Come on, little bird," he says. "If not for you, then for me?"

You let out a sigh. Without a word, you take the sword from his hand.

"Atta girl," Jago chuckles. He steps away from you, then surprises you by sheathing his sword. His grin suddenly turns feral. Before you can ask, he unclasps the front of his tunic and lets it drop to the floor. His torso, like his face, is ravished by scars, though these are far larger and more vicious looking. Bolter holes, chain blade slashes, stab wounds and burn marks; Jago wears the marks of all of these and even more. Black neural ports run down his shoulders and chest, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. But, just like his face, his scars and cybernetics do little to detract from the beauty of the body beneath them. You can't help but take a moment to drink in the sight of him; the twistedly gorgeous demi-god you call lover and protector. At your staring, Jago chuckles. "You may remain robed if you wish," he says. "But among Astartes, it is tradition to spar as... unencumbered as possible."

"Oh really?" you ask, clearly unconvinced.

Jago laughs again. "Eyes up, little bird," he orders. "Raise your blade. We begin now."

Unable to keep the grin off your face, you does as he commands.

"You remember what I've taught you?" he asks.

You give your sword a cursory twirl. "Of course I do." As if to emphasise the point, you hold it out in front of you in a defensive stance.

Jago gives you a satisfied smirk. "Guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?" With that, the Night Lord lunges.

You slip to the side, parrying with your sword. The wooden blades crack against each other like bone, and the force of the impact sends painful vibrations rocketing up your arms. Grunting, you take several, darting steps back, but Jago refuses to give you any such breathing room. Several more time, your training blades clash. You know Jago is holding back; he has to, for if he didn't, his first strike would've likely snapped your arms in half. But even with his abilities actively reduced from demi-god levels, he's still faster and stronger than any baseline human could dream of being. Already, your breathing hard. Sweat pouring down your brow as your heart pounds relentlessly. Jago, on the other hand, has barely broken a sweat.

"Don't be shy, little bird," he says the next time the pair of you disengage. "You can't defend forever."

Between heavy breathes, you scowl at him. "Easy for you to say, Son of The Night Haunter, you."

Jago flashes that wry, crooked smile of his from the other side of the training mat. "No warrior is perfect," he says. "Even Astartes have certain aspects that can be exploited."

"Such as?"

"Just look at me, sweetheart. Two metres tall and half a tonne in weight, all of that being bloated muscle and reinforced bone." Jago holds his arms out wide. "What does that make me?"

"I don't know," you huff. "Strong?"

"Nope," says Jago

"Unbeatable?"

"Hah! I wish."

"Sexy?"

Jago laughs. "You flatter me, little bird. But no. Not the answer I am looking for."

"What then?"

The night lord sighs in mock exasperation. "It make me big," he says. "It makes me heavy. And no matter how fast or strong I am, it makes me very much at the mercy of physics and biomechanics. But you-" he points at you with his sword. "-my love, you are not so much. You are lighter. Your body, more flexible and maneuverable. Therefore, such natural laws are far more lenient on you than I. You understand?"

After taking a moment to think, you believe that you do. You tell Jago as much.

"I knew you would." Lowering his sword, Jago bares his teeth in a grin. "Now. Prove it to me."

Raising your sword, you approach him at a slink. Stepping on the balls of your feet, wooden blade out and pointed at his chest. Jago flurries his own weapon. Ripples of tension feather through the muscles of his chest and abdomen. He holds his sword low, clearly trusting himself to be fast enough to raise it should you choose to attack. But it is that very reflex that you intend to exploit.

With the technique of a fencer, you thrust at Jago's throat. Just as you'd guessed, he brings his sword up and around to block. But the moment you see his arm move, your strike turns into a feint. Ducking underneath his arm, you lock your blade around his shoulder and launch a savage kick into his knee. In the same moment, you wrench hard with your arms, turning your wooden sword into a lever over which you toss Jago to the ground. Of course, such a throw would never work in a true one-on-one fight with an Astartes. But against another baseline? Absolutely, it would. And, since he is currently moonlighting as such, Jago lets you take him down. The mat shakes as his body hits the ground. Before he can move to get up, you leap on top of him. Straddling his waist and bracing the edge of your mock sword against his throat. Your arms tremble from exertion, lungs burning as you breath hard and fast through your mouth. But as exhausted as you are there's a smile on your face. When Jago locks eyes with you, it only grows broader.

"That's my girl," he says, his adam's apple bobbing against your blade as he speaks.

In spite of yourself, his praise makes you giggle. "Does that mean I win?" you ask.

"Almost," Jago says. "But you've forgotten one very important thing."

You raise an eyebrow. "That being?"

Between your legs, you feel the rise and fall of his belly as he breathes in and out. You also feel him bending his knees and planting his feet on the floor. "When your opponent is so much larger than you..." Jago trails off. Then, quick as a snake, he grabs your sword with one hand and seizes your arm in the other. Bridging his hips, he throws you off him, sending you sprawling onto the mat. You yelp in surprise as Jago reverses your mount and straddles your hips. His weight is immense; your pelvis feels like it's being crushed beneath an anvil, while your legs and hips are completely and utterly pinned. Jago leans over you, grabbing your sword hand by the wrist while bracing his own sword hand on the floor right beside your ear. Lips peeling back into a predatory smile, he finishes his earlier warning. "...You must never take them to the ground."

Any outward observer would expect you be terrified, but in truth, you only feel flustered. Even after all this time, being this close to him- face millimetres from yours, naked, muscular body pressing against your own- still has your stomach winding itself into knots. And from the bulging hardness you can feel pressing against your lower belly, Jago is feeling the same way.

"This had nothing to do with training me, did it?" you whisper.

"Of course it did," Jago replies. "Your safety is the single most important thing to me. You know that."

"Fine. But it wasn't the only reason you brought me here, was it?"

For the briefiest of moments, Jago's smile turns sheepish. "Alright. You may have me there." Leaning closer still, he touches his forehead to yours. "You know how much I love a woman who can kick my ass."

You reply by kissing him. Tilting your head back so as to give you access to his lips, then locking them within yours with rough and enboldened hunger. Jago immediately returns it in kind. He drops his sword and releases your wrist, scooping one hand up underneath your waist while gripping you jaw with the other. Like pieces of a puzzle, your bodies fall into place around each other. Your legs wrapping tight around Jago's waist as he pulls you closer still. The heat between your legs presses the hardness between his, and even through the fabric of your clothes, the friction is enough to make you whine. The sound elicits a growl from Jago. You feel the hand at your jaw release, then slide down your front until it reaches the waistband of your trousers. He drags them off you, followed by your underwear. You gasp when the cold air kisses your exposed sex. But quickly, the sound devolves into a moan as Jago presses his fingers into your clit. Electricity bolts through your body. The heat in your core swells into an aching throb. You feel yourself growing wetter, hotter, more desperate and breathless. You claw your fingernails into Jago's back and let out another pleading moan.

"Jago..."

"I know, sweetheart," he rumbles. "But I've gotta slick you up first; don't want to hurt you."

You reply by bringing your hands up to his shoulder blades and digging your fingers into the neural ports embedded in the muscles there.

An involuntary shudder rips through Jago's entire body. His limbs buckle, sending him sprawling flat against your front. The sound that falls from his lips can only be described as a whimper.

"Oh, I see," he growls once he recovers. "And here I was thinking you liked me best when I was nice."

"Most of the time," you answer. "But not today."

Jago bares his teeth in a smile that's both affectionate and utterly lusting. "As you wish, little bird. But don't say I didn't warn you."

You open your mouth to reply, but before the words can reach your voice, Jago locks his hand around your throat. He unclasps his breeches, finally freeing his hard, aching cock. He lines his hips with up with yours, and with a single, savage thrust, drives himself all the way inside of you.

A cry bursts from your lips. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length, but even then, the fit is impossibly tight. Jago moans into your ear. The hand around your throat tightens. Without skipping a beat, he starts moving. Thrusting his hips hard, filling you up, pinning your clit against his public bone and rubbing it to the point of pain. Sparks and black spots burst within your vision. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Every one of your exhales is a whimper or a moan. Ecstasy doesn't come close to describing this feeling. This raw and primal pleasure that's got your every nerve in a chokehold. Meanwhile, Jago growls and snarls like a beast in rut. His breathing is loud and laboured, his every muscle bulging against his sweat-slick skin. The hand he hasn't got around your neck is pressed hard into your lower belly, forcing his cock deeper and deeper still.

The coil in your belly reaches critical mass. You can feel your orgasm coming, just on the horizon, but not quite there yet. There's no way in hell you could string together a sentence, so instead, you say his name. Once again finding Jago's shoulderblades with your fingers and clawing them into his neural ports.

"Jago... Jago..."

Jago's body shudders again, and a long, almost pained whine interrupts his snarling growls. On his next thrust, he rears up onto his knees, scooping up your leg with one hand and throwing it over his shoulder. The sparks in your eyes become stars. The coil in your belly becomes agonisingly tight. Your spine arches until it's not longer touching the ground and you let out another, desperate cry.

It's then that Jago decides to say something. The words are whispered in your ear, barely comprehensible amidst his growls and moans. But they're there. And they are what finally send you over the edge.

"That's my girl."

Orgasm grips you like a lightning strike. You throw your head back as a scream of ecstasy erupts from your throat. Every muscle in your body clenches and your walls squeeze Jago so tight it makes his voice crack. His rhythm suddenly falters. He releases your throat to claw his hand into the floor. With a throat-tearing roar, Jago finally hits his release, burying his face into your shoulder and pumping you full of his hot, thick seed. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you entangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as you both ride out your orgasms.

When yours finally fades, you collapse against the floor. You still have the energy to gasp at the feel of Jago pulling out, but aside from that, you're completely and utterly spent. Means when Jago rolls you onto your side and drags you into his body, you simply let him. Both of his hearts are beating hard; you can feel their twin pulses pounding against your ear. He doesn't simply hold you, either, but rather he's actively pulling you close. Pressing you hard against his chest and wrapping his arms around you tight as if he were trying to shelter you or keep you from being dragged away. His grip is crushing. His skin and hair both slick with sweat. Gently, you reach a hand up to his face and brush your fingers against his cheek. "Careful," you says softly. "Squeeze me any tighter and you might just break something."

You hear his breath hitch. Slowly, the pressure around your waist and shoulders diminishes. "Sorry," Jago mutters. The extra gravel in his voice confirms what you'd suspected from his pulse, that he's still coming down from his high.

Tilting your head up a little, you press your lips to his collarbone, then nuzzle your face into his chest. "It's okay. I forgive you. This time, at least."

Jago smirks, but says nothing. After a handful of quiet moments, you hear his heart rates finally begin to settle. His breathing deepens, then levels out and the residual tension in his body releases.

You choose that moment to caress his scarred cheek again. "I love you," you whisper.

His chest vibrates against your ear as he chuckles softly. "By the Warp. I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that."

"Do you doubt me?" you ask playfully.

"What? No! Of course not."

"You do not feel the same, then?"

That actually makes him growl. "Of course I do." The grip around your waist and shoulders tightens. "You know that."

You reassure him with another kiss to his collar bone. "So, why, then?"

"Why?" Another rumbling laugh. "Sweetheart. Look at me. Recall who I am and what I've done."

Retracting your hand, you start tracing one of the dozens of scars running down his chest with your finger. "I see Jago Sevetarion," you say. "The man who cares for me and protects me." You let your head fall against him, eyes slipping shut. "I see the man I love."

Your earnestness seems to take him by surprise, for he does not reply nor react right away. He doesn't seem to know how to. All he can think to do is pull you closer still and bury his face into the crook of your neck.

Sorry if I've missed you. If I have or you wanna be added, please let me know :)

Taglist: @yanagikou @nereidof40k @yurihasurunbara @beckyninja @moodymisty @wolf-feathers12 @justfreakynothingelse @egrets-not-regrets

[hgfictionwriter]

Maybe This Time

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: UCLA was a long time ago. Jessie couldn't bring herself to make a move back then and missed her chance. But now that you're back in her life, maybe things can be different.

Warning: None

A/N: A bit more fluff for y'all! And sorry for flooding the Jessie tags. I’ve got a bunch of fics just sitting around!

"Jessie?"

Jessie turned and couldn't believe her eyes. Y/N. Y/N L/N. The girl she'd pined over at UCLA; who her friends had relentlessly made fun of her for liking and never pursuing; the girl who still showed up in idle daydreams from time to time, even all these years later.

"I heard you were playing in town now. Oh my gosh - it's been so long. I was hoping I'd run into you at some point."

Here you were standing in front of her. Smiling at her. Instead of being the...relatively...confident person Jessie now was - she was national team captain, a gold medal athlete, for goodness sake - she wasn't a young girl anymore hiding behind textbooks and her friends, instead though, she felt her cheeks burn hot and her words got caught in her throat. She stood there staring speechless at you.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize me," you said, a hint of apprehension beginning to cast over you.

Finally, Jessie began to react. She closed her eyes briefly in hopes of resetting, shaking her head and allowing herself to smile.

"Of course I do," she finally managed, only stammering slightly. "I mean, I recognize you. Of course."

"Okay." You let out a small laugh of relief. "For a second I thought worldwide athletic stardom made you forget your favourite lab partner."

"Of course not," Jessie readily assured you. "I'd never forget you."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She clenched her jaw as she reprimanded herself internally for imploding so quickly and after so much time. She cut herself some slack when you smiled again at her.

"That's comforting to hear. Well, I mean, I know you're just leaving," you gestured to the door of the coffee shop, "but, um, I don't know." You laughed nervously before settling on what to say. You offered her a resolute nod. "It was nice to see you again."

Jessie's mind whirled with ideas and options. Anything coming out of her mouth now was mere instinct.

"Nice to see you too. Um, I don't know, maybe we could chat sometime? Are you in Portland too?"

"Yeah, I work at a logistics firm in town." You cracked a smirk. "Not nearly as glamorous as being a national icon, but you know, I do my part."

Jessie chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair.

"If you call 4 am wake-up calls, jet lag, and bruises to high heaven glamourous, then sure, I guess it is."

"Sounds not too unfamiliar from your UCLA days," you teased. "I still remember when you showed up to class with a black eye. And I see you've healed fine from your recent one."

Jessie blushed. So you watched her games? And you remembered moments from uni.

You'd been friends in university, but that's all it ever was. Her friends had goaded her again and again to ask you out, but Jessie could never work up the courage. She'd doubted herself too much. And then before she knew it she'd lost her chance. You dated other girls and that was the end of it. She stepped back and time ticked on.

You remained close friends throughout uni, sharing deep conversations, hopes and fears, silly moments, too. There were moments where Jessie felt hope starting to blossom in her chest - that maybe you had feelings for her, but she'd stamp it out. She’d just be setting herself up for disappointment.

After you both graduated, that was it. She'd gone off to London and you fell out of touch. It was for the best really. Well, maybe.

"Anyway," you started again, drawing Jessie back from her thoughts. "Sure, I'd love to catch up. I'd say I'll message you on Instagram, but I know your social media is a black hole. I can give you my number if you like."

Jessie gave you a tight-lipped smile as she scratched the back of her head and let her gaze fall to the bulletin of flyers instead.

"Yeah, I'm not much for social media."

"I know," you chuckled. "You never were."

Jessie cleared her throat and looked back to you. "And sure, what's your number?"

She almost missed you telling her because her mind drifted back to class when you reached over and scribbled your number on the top corner of her paper and told her to text you about the reading. Jessie’s words had died in her throat and she had to settle for merely offering you a delayed nod as you gathered up your books and left. She’d felt light on her feet, nearly dizzy even, all day. Her hands had shaken when she texted you and her palms were clammy as she awaited your response.

That was a lifetime ago. But now here you were, and number newly confirmed. Jessie tucked her phone away in her pocket.

"Okay, I'll let you go," you told her. "And truly, if you aren't up to a chat of any kind - no pressure. You probably have so many people vying for your time. I won't be offended." You said with true earnest. "In case I don't see you again, I just want to say I'm really proud of you for everything you've achieved. And I'd say I'm impressed, but A) that goes without saying, and B) I always knew you were going to do great things. I told you time and time again. Anyway, it was so good to see you. Take care."

Before Jessie could respond, you'd turned and disappeared to the other side of the shop and into the line. She forced herself to turn and leave.

The door had barely closed behind her when she opened her phone and pulled up her messages with Teagan.

"You will NEVER guess who I just ran into."

-----

"Hi Y/N. It's Jessie. UCLA."

"Lol the one and only. How are you?"

"Well forgive me for not assuming that you would know who a random 'Jessie' is lol. I'm doing well, thanks. How are you?"

"You were always very humble. It was always very endearing, so I'm glad to see you haven't lost that. I'm doing well. Working late. Some of my vendors are shitting the bed, so I'm scrambling to find alternatives."

"Seriously? That sounds brutal. I'm sorry to hear that. Well, if it makes you feel better, the team had to run extra drills today because of how bad our last game was."

"It's the start of the season - lots of new players. Chemistry takes time. You guys will find your groove soon. I'm positive. How is Portland treating you, by the way? I'd love to hear more about your time in London too at some point."

"Well, if you still want to grab coffee, I can tell you all about it. And I want to hear about you too. Did you ever make it to the Ghibli museum?"

"Oh my gosh lolol. You remember that. And yes! I did. And it was amazing. And coffee would be amazing, too :)"

Jessie belatedly realized that she was smiling as you texted back and forth. It was an odd feeling - it was strange to be talking with you again, yet entirely natural.

To her surprise, you ended up texting every day until you met up Sunday afternoon. She'd mentioned to Teagan that you two had this scheduled and soon Jessie was hit with an onslaught of messages from all her Bruins mates stepping right back into form and teasing her.

On a scale from 1-10, how red did you blush? And why was it 20.

Can I finally tell her you mumbled her name in your sleep? Several times?

Please tell me you immediately pulled out a vision board with her face all over it.

LOL the universe said, “Think you’ve suffered enough pining for this girl? Think you’re over her? Guess again!”

She still hot? Send pics.

Jessie sat in her car down the street from the coffee shop and essentially gave herself a stern, mental talking to about your get together. She was not who she was 5 years ago, and neither were you. She didn't need to be so nervous. There were no stakes at all, she could just relax, be in the moment, and reconnect with an old friend.

When she stepped into the coffee shop, her pulse picked up just so when she saw you seated at a table, but thankfully by the time she sat she'd composed herself again.

"The good news is, the rain is nothing new to me after being in London," she joked as she swept some rain off her baseball cap.

You looked up from your phone and a large smile crossed your face.

"Yeah, I hear you. And what's going on - how did we both go from sunny LA to rain central?"

Not entirely surprising, conversation flowed easily between you two. And it wasn't all reminiscing and nostalgia, it was easy to talk about current things as well. Pretty soon, you were both at the ends of your second cups of coffee and yet neither of you made a move to leave.

"So, um, you've been in Portland for a while now," the ease Jessie had felt faltered some as she broached a topic she'd been highly curious about, "did [y/gf] come with you?"

You screwed up your face and laughed.

"No," you answered easily. "We broke up like a couple of months after convocation. Let's be real - that was never going to last."

"Oh," Jessie replied, surprise showing on her face at how readily you dismissed the notion. "I had no idea. I thought you two were solid."

"Well," you drained the last bit of your drink, "I guess I wasn't entirely forthcoming then. Sure, things were okay. But, I was lying to myself if I thought that was going to be a 'forever' kind of relationship." Jessie's look of surprise lingered and you rolled your eyes, leaning in. "Jessie. She'd get distracted every time she walked by a mirror. I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not. Come on, don't tell me you didn't notice. Her full on checking herself out anytime she caught her reflection?"

Jessie sat back and gave you a brief look of disbelief, shaking her head. "I tried not to notice."

"Smart," you retorted good naturedly. "She was nice, and we had fun, but beyond our values not exactly aligning, an equal partnership it was not."

"Well, okay, she's out of the picture. You must be with someone new, then," Jessie went on. She ignored the twinge in her chest when you shook your head 'no'. Just as quickly, she scolded herself. Why would it matter? She was getting way ahead of herself here. She supposed that old habits - and evidently dormant feelings - died hard.

"No. I mean, I dated a couple of girls since I've been here, but nothing's really stuck." You looked up from your drink to Jessie. "Now, superstar, you have to tell me your update."

Jessie mouth contracted into a tight smile and she felt her cheeks begin to burn under the scrutiny.

"That's confidential," she quipped.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and leaned forward. "That is so not fair." Jessie remained smugly silent and merely shrugged. You let out an exasperated sigh and slouched back in your chair. "Fine," you relented not wanting to push too much. "You were always tight-lipped in university, too. You could've had anyone and you - as far as I know," you said pointedly, "didn't date anyone."

"Oh come on." Jessie now rolled her eyes. "I was so shy and quiet. Even if I'd liked someone I would've never gotten up the courage to ask them out." She felt a buzzing in her head as she watched your reaction. You smiled sweetly.

"You were shy and quiet, yes. But you opened up once you were comfortable. I mean, look at us, look at you with your teammates. And you were so smart, incredibly sweet, and pretty, and you had that dry sense of humour. And, hello, captain of the football team!"

"Co-captain," Jessie interjected pointedly. You hung your head briefly with a laugh.

"I repeat - you could've had anyone."

Jessie subconsciously fidgeted with her hat and planted her feet further apart as she shifted down in her chair. "Well, didn't seem that way at the time."

"Wait - so who did you like?" You probed.

"No one," Jessie retorted, her features scrunching up as she played off the question dismissively. "I barely had time to breathe. There was no way I could date someone."

"You are so cagey sometimes," you said lightly, not being able to resist ribbing her once more. "Fine, so, what about now? Are you seeing someone?"

Jessie's composure was long gone and her face burned hot as your interrogation got her flustered. She took a subtle breath and worked to calm herself.

"No, no one's caught my eye just yet," she relayed.

You studied Jessie, discerning whether to drop the topic or not. You eventually relented as you crossed your arms and reclined in your chair.

"Well, I imagine that's not easy. There's a lot to live up to. And you're surrounded by impressive people every day, so the bar's gotta be high. Again, you can have your pick."

You grabbed your phone and looked it over quickly.

"I need to get going. I have a few errands to run still before the weekend's over," you said, a hint of regret in your voice before you offered a smile. "I had a great time though. It was so good to catch up with you."

Jessie removed her hat, running her fingers through her hair briefly before pulling the cap back down on her head.

"Yeah, I had a great time, too."

For the first time this conversation, a small lull formed and neither of you jumped to bridge it. Eventually, Jessie cleared her throat.

"Maybe we could get together again. Coffee. A drink. Whatever, really."

A mild look of surprise crossed your face, puzzling Jessie.

"Sure, I'd like that," you told her warmly as you shrugged on your jacket.

"Okay." Jessie gave you a small smile as she, too, rose from the table. "Will you be at the game next weekend?"

"I hadn't planned on it, but I could be." You smirked.

"No pressure," Jessie said as she felt that old nervousness begin to bubble up. "I could get you tickets if you ever want to go. That's all."

You smiled, looking at her in appreciation. "I'll have to take you up on that."

Jessie chuckled, but gave you a pointed look. "Honestly, you don't have to. I know you weren't a big soccer fan even in university."

"But," you started, drawing the word out and returning her pointed look, "I started going to games after becoming friends with a certain someone. I just haven't had a reason to go to a Thorns games yet."

Jessie resisted her impending blush and instead crossed her arms loosely in front of her, shifting her weight to one leg. "Okay, just let me know," Jessie said. She gave you a small nod. "And I promise these games are even better than Bruins ones."

You cocked your head, a hint of a smile on your face as you lifted a finger to your lips and narrowed your eyes in mock contemplation.

"What are they calling you these days? Midfield Maestro?"

Somehow, Jessie didn't even feel the urge to blush. Instead, she gave you a cocky smirk.

"So you really have been following my career."

She nearly grinned at how your cheeks flushed pink and you broke eye contact. You only took a moment to compose yourself and look back to Jessie with a half smirk.

"Hard not to," you simply said.

Jessie relented, feeling like she'd teased you enough. For now. She smiled and spoke earnestly.

"Offer stands - if you wants tickets, just let me know. Regardless, let's get together soon."

"Deal," you told her, your blush slowly fading.

There was a brief moment of stillness and uncertainty before you stepped forward and pulled Jessie into a hug. It only took her a moment to relax into it, her arms wrapping around you. Even though your body felt different now - so was hers - it felt natural to hold you close again.

You stayed like that for several moments, surprise and tampered excitement filling Jessie when you tightened your embrace before letting go. She noted the renewed colour on your cheeks when you stepped back.

"Text me?" You asked.

Jessie nodded. "Of course."

A\N: Part Two is available here.

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

[vesearlee]

──── 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒆

After a night that took an eternity to pass, you woke up feeling worse the wear and wishing for sleep to take you under once more. Only, Zayne had other ideas; the love and care he provided was always second to none.

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───  𝑳𝑨𝑫𝑺 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕  ───

The overturn of night to day had been a tortuous process as you laid in place, buried beneath the plush layers of blankets — each on fluffier than the last, though there was something, or rather, someone missing from the equation of comfort. 

Each nerve in your body sang with discomfort and electricity, the movement of simply blinking your eyelids almost too much to bear. You groaned quietly and flexed your fingers against the soft fabrics bundled around you. 

“Stay still,” a voice murmured quietly above you, and you huffed in reply. 

“‘M not gettin’ up,” you grumbled in reply, and you glanced up through one bleary eye to find soft hazel eyes staring back at you, full of concern and worry for what you hid behind an innocent morning grouse. “Don’t act cute—won’t work.”

The black, fluffy ears a top Zayne’s head twitched to the side at the sound of your voice. “Are you sure?” he teased, lowering himself down to your level. From your vantage point, you noticed he wore grey sweatpants paired with a faded blue henley. A set of fluffy slippers matched the fur of his bushy tail and inquisitive ears. 

His hot breath fanned over your cheek, and you felt his lips brush softly against the corner of your mouth. “Where does it hurt?”

The love and concern in his tone made your lips twitch into a shy half-smile. “It’s all right, love. Just–”

Zayne shuffled closer on his knees, and his nose brushed against yours. His chin then rested on your pillow while he gazed at you. “Tell me,” he whispered, “I’ll make it better.”

“I wish you could,” you replied sadly, your own voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just a bad day, I think. Everything hurts and I don’t…” There was a slight pause as you hesitated to voice your thoughts, but the sudden closeness of his presence crumbled that wall down to its foundations. “I don’t want to get up.”

The flutter of Zayne’s lashes against his cheeks matched the soft exhale he released. Heat flushed your cheeks at the admission, and you began to curl in on yourself, away from the warmth he provided. 

“No, no, sweetheart,” he rushed, his voice strained with some emotion you couldn’t discern. It only made tears burn in the corner of your eyes. 

A firm touch pulled you out of your cocoon, and the palm of his hand cupped your jaw, encouraging you to look at him. The small frown on his lips made your heart leap with worry, and before you could open your mouth to speak, he asked, “How about I make you breakfast? We can stay in today, whatever you would like to do.” 

You blinked. “Really?”

“Of course.” The pad of his thumb brushed against your cheekbone. “Anything you want, my love.”

“Even if I wanted to play with your ears…?”

A resigned sigh proved your victory, and you watched as Zayne stood from the floor and headed out of your shared bedroom. “Stay here.” The low posture of his tail swayed behind him. If it weren’t for the slight, playful twitch every now and then, you would have guessed he would be far more annoyed at your request. 

From the bedroom where you lay, you could hear the quiet clatter of pans being moved around, followed by the quiet hum of Zayne’s voice as he worked, gathering ingredients to make breakfast. 

Soon enough, the enticing, delicious smell of pancake batter filled your senses, as well as the tart scent of strawberries. “Baby?” you called, carefully raising your head off of your pillow, the promise of food enough to motivate you against the pain of any movement. 

“Yes?” he called back, and you heard the quiet patter of his feet against the floorboards of the hallway. A second later, his head peered around the door, ears forward and eyes curious. “What is it? Do you need help? I can–”

“No, no.” The rustle of the blankets covered the sound of him approaching, and you groaned as you sat up. “I just–” A hiss of pain through your teeth cut your words short. 

“Careful,” Zayne breathed, his hands under your arms to help you better move into a comfortable position. Your back rested against the headboard, and the blanket that once covered your shoulders was now being tucked firmly in place on your lap. “There you are, my love. What did you need?”

“Only you,” you replied easily, looking up at him. 

A slight blush danced over his high cheekbones, extending slowly towards the tips of his ears. “You have me, always.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Breakfast will be finished soon, afterwards I can draw you a bath. Maybe we can try those new salts you bought, hm?”

“That would be heavenly,” you sighed, slumping against the solid headboard. 

Zayne chuckled and pinched your cheek playfully. “I will only be a few more minutes.”

When he turned to walk away, you pinched the back of his thigh. The fabric of his sweatpants was soft between your fingers, and it took all of your restraint to not pet down the now thrashing, fluffy tail. 

His back drew taut and became ramrod straight, and he swung around to face you. “Why–!” The furrow between his brows was almost comical. 

“Those minutes without you will last an eternity,” you whined, pouting. 

“If you keep distracting me, yes,” Zayne huffed, his hand rubbing circles over the spot you pinched. “I can only do so much if your hands decide to be mischievous.” 

You giggled and sunk into the plush covers in faux shyness. “You can’t blame me!”

Zayne sighed and shook his head. “No, I guess I can’t.”

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[babybatss-blog]

DOMESTICS

Sirius black x reader, 1100  words

summary: all you wanted to do was cook Sirius some chicken for dinner, but perhaps things don’t always go your way.

c/w: established relationship, alcohol consumption, swearing and crying, argument between Sirus and Reader. Practically just tame, basic relationship angst that turns into fluff :)

The classic casual Friday night is always a big step in any intimate relationship. Stepping out of uncomfortable outfits and delicate table foods into comfy hoodies and junky snacks creates a whole new level of intimacy with a partner, and can be quite nerve wracking for at least the first few instances. 

But you and Sirius are way past that.

On the first date, you stayed the night at his for two whole days. You met his best friends on that second day, and he met yours just four days later. James said you were funny, and Lily said Sirus was smitten. He admired your comfortableness with him while you appreciated his lack of care towards your groggy state every morning, and a week in you both shared your deepest traumas with each other. On some random Wednesday your parents turned up unannounced in your apartment, which is when he met them both shirtless and slightly hungover (though he concealed the latter expertly).

So, two months later it is entirely expected to have Sirius lounging on your couch, watching some Netflix overproduced action show and as you cook dinner. Usually he prefers taking control of the kitchen because he “likes to spoil his girls”, but he did not impose when you insisted it was your turn to give him some love. The kitchen smells like a variety of spices and mouth-watering flavours, and despite the simple dish you are preparing the kitchen looks like a professional chef is making a world-famous meal. Plates, pots and pans are spread around, ingredients spilled on any and all surfaces and your state decreased to completely dishevelled, huffing and puffing at every slight inconvenience to come your way. “This needs to be perfect for him.” You think, anxiously managing every element with not a moment to spare. Unbeknownst to you Sirus has now snuck over, and softly places his chiselled chin on your shoulder as you peer over the cooking meat.

“Looks raw.” He states nonchalantly, arms creeping around your waist. “I know. It’s not done yet.” You explain bluntly, words leaving your mouth slightly more harsh than you intended. But you don’t take them back, as your focus is entirely taken up by the meal in front of you.

Wait, I thought it was done? What’s it meant to look like if it is done? What does it taste like? What more does it need?

He soon releases you, walking away to the bathroom as he calls out. “Sorry for not wanting to be poisoned I guess!” You huff, opting to not fight back in fear of putting too much energy into something that doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. You and Sirius are both painfully stubborn when you want to be, and are often laughed at by your friends for getting in ridiculous arguments. Once, you needed to go on a walk and clear your head after the two of you debated which Barbie movie is the best.

As he returns from the bathroom he subtly side eyes the chicken, seeing you have now placed it on a plate ready for serving. Against his better judgment, he calls out, in a half cough half word amalgamation which complains “still raw”. Would it be smart for you to reply? No, of course not! But do you do it anyway? Obviously!

“WELL WHY DON’T YOU COOK THEN MR PERFECT?!” You snap, eyes erratic and wide as you face him. He scoffs, hands placed on the kitchen counter opposite you.

“I’d be happy to, but you didn’t fucking let me!”

”Didn’t let you? I’m not your mother, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you!”

“Well it isn’t nice if I’m too sick to go to work tomorrow!”

“Relax hard ass, you start work at three!” The argument quickly escalates past the point of reasonable, as Sirius’ arms flail widely about and the vegetables are left to burn in the oven.

In a closing statement you call Sirius a “spoilt brat” and he storms off, slamming the bedroom door behind him so he can no longer hear you if you try to apologise. Tears well in your eyes as you look around, realising what just happened truly as your brain finally processes. How can your worst argument be about some stupid chicken? You rush to repair the damage of your distractions to the meal, pulling the vegetables out of the oven as your salty tears fall within. You can barely see through your exaggerated sobs, mad at yourself for all manner of things.

Why did you let his simple comments go to your head? What if he’s right, and the meals a disaster? Will he despise you now for going so off the handle? Is this the last night of your fleeting romance?

You quietly serve up the food as these thoughts run through your head, wiping away gushing tears and snot as you go. Once it’s done, you tentatively go over to the closed door of the bedroom and knock a few times. You hear some shuffles, and the door is opened to reveal an unimpressed Sirus. “Sorry…” You mumble, eyes glued to the wooden floor between you. He pushes past you in silence, grabbing his plate and sitting down on the plush couch. As much as you would like to beg for forgiveness and list all the reasons you should stay together, you don’t deem that important when he pats the space next to him to sit down, handing you a sympathetic yet weak smile. “I know you didn’t mean it.” He finally gets out, eyes drilling into your still shy figure. “I just was trying to help.” “I know. But I didn’t want you to have to worry. I wanted to spoil you; you know?” His hand falls onto your thigh, the other placing the chicken in his hungry mouth. You join him in eating the meal, and reluctantly admit what you wished wasn’t true.

“It’s not fully cooked.” You pout, tears still glossing your eyes. He chuckles, placing his plate down and enveloping you in a hug. “That’s fine gorgeous. UberEats it is.” You pull back and quickly peck his lips, a smile forming on both your faces as you respond.

“Only if it’s Mexican.”

“Deal.”

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (18 - 1.5 finale) - I Would Just Give Up My Life

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story masterlist / First Part / Previous Part

Word count: 2.3k (Short, but I don't want to drag it out.)

-I walk alone to find my way, give me something to carry on-

You were still, torturously still and Wednesday thought she’d enjoy almost any kind of torture. She never wanted to be tortured like this again. Watching you just barely breathing, bandaged up and your heartbeat frighteningly slow, just barely a third of what was normal, as if it was no longer an unconscious thing a body did, like breathing, but a conscious effort, even while sleeping.

Enid came in with Thing and her mother. Lurch picked her up after she insisted on coming here. “Wednesday? How is she?” she asked, though Wednesday didn’t look away from you.

“Stable,” she replied, moving her hand back so they wouldn’t see she’s been holding your hand for a long time now.

“She is strong, she’ll recover,” her mother told her, prompting a nod from Wednesday.

Thing jumped onto her shoulder and tapped, pointing out how often she’s been by your side lately, and then, the teasing, traitorous limb that he is, he jumped off and scurried to her mother before she could grab him.

So, Wednesday just glared at him, it wasn’t worth chasing him.

At least he didn’t spill that she slept in your bed, and he didn’t know the two of you slept in the same bed the night he was stabbed.

“She’ll recover but,” Enid paused, sniffling and Wednesday knew what she wanted to say before she even continued. “She lost her dad, and like this,” she finished and Wednesday agreed.

And then there was your mother. No one contacted her yet, Enid was terrified to do so, and they plain and simple didn’t know the woman. And as stable as you were they still wanted to wait until you were awake.

~X~

You woke up in a dark room, lit only by a couple of candles. The pain, at least the physical part of it, was mostly gone. Probably due to the medicine. You vaguely remembered what happened while you were in your beast form, shifting, roaring at the skies. Then digging up that hole for your dad and just lying down next to his body.

You weren’t sure how long you spent like that, but Wednesday came, and then she hugged you, and her family came as well. It all felt like a dream, but you remembered it. Maybe not everything, but you remembered most of it. You remembered the trust, feeling of safety and faith that they wouldn’t harm you, or do something to your dad’s body.

Being Wednesday’s family gave them a right to do a lot more than nearly anyone could.

You looked to the side, at Wednesday lying next to you, firmly holding your left hand and wrist on her pillow. You sighed softly, turning onto your side and brushing a few strands of her hair from her face.

She didn’t wake up, she barely even reacted, by actually leaning closer to you. Just how tired was she? If you had to guess you’d say she hasn’t slept in days, since ride alone would take almost ten hours in one direction. And she fell asleep next to you, clutching at your hand and wrist, exactly where she could feel your pulse.

Your eyes softened and for a moment you felt at ease, right there, in what you assumed was her room, in her childhood bed, a room filled with books, predictably black and gothic, and her sleeping peacefully as you caressed her cheek. You looked to her nightstand drawer and saw the knife she gave you there. You still had it. You didn’t have anything else, but you still had that.

You remembered everything, the almost kiss, the look in her eyes. She loved you back, but right now… You just weren’t ready. Not even to talk about how you hurt her by forgetting about your almost kiss. “I’m sorry I forgot something so important,” you still whispered, pulling your left hand closer and kissing the back of her hand. “I promise I’ll make up for it, for the rest of my life if you’ll let me, I just need a bit of time,” you told her, even though she still slept, and then, slowly and carefully, to avoid waking Wednesday up and aggravating your wounds, you managed to get up and step outside her room.

~X~

Wednesday opened her eyes and looked at the back of her hand, her heart slamming against her chest like a wrecking ball. You remembered? The night you almost kissed? That had to be what you were talking about. And you’d make up for forgetting it for the rest of your life? It was almost too much for her right now. Too many emotions, too many things she wasn’t used to. The sensation of your lips against her skin. She would give you all the time you need, she’d wait.

No matter how long it takes, and as much as she wished to get up and follow you, to make sure you were fine, she couldn’t do it now. You needed space, and she’d give it to you.

~X~

Wednesday’s house was huge, absurdly so, but you managed to find the stairs and go down, hoping to get some air. Halfway down the stairs you leaned sideway against the wall, clutching at your chest. Your heart wasn’t beating fast enough.

Of course, you died for a bit, likely revived by your dad’s lightning. You focused on your heart, focused on the heartbeat, on speeding it up, at least for a while you’d have to make a conscious effort to keep it beating, because your dad didn’t restart your heart, he just made your brain do it manually. A few days of paying attention to your heartbeat felt like a small price to pay for still being alive.

“Y/N, you’re awake,” you heard a soft, graceful voice and looked back to see Morticia standing at the top of the stairs.

You nodded. “Mrs. Addams, I’m sorry about causing trouble,” you were grateful, but you still felt the need to apologize.

The woman just gently shook her head. You knew she wasn’t a lot like Wednesday, that sure, they shared some traits, but Morticia was absolutely more in tune with her emotions. Much gentler, without losing her fierceness. Yet not once did you think Wednesday should be more like Morticia, Wednesday was Wednesday. “Nonsense, darling, you are welcome here, and please just call me Morticia. Come, join me. Gomez is finishing preparations for Elijah’s funeral, if you agree to bury him here,” that took you by surprise.

You vaguely remembered Gomez speaking to you, but you failed to completely understand him. If your dad could be buried here you would be grateful. “I’m not sure if I can ask for something like that,” you said as you followed her down the stairs and outside the huge mansion. It was easy to spot the graveyard near the mansion.

“You most certainly can. Elijah and Gomez were best friends, and while we weren’t as close, he was always a friend to me as well. And now you hold a special place in our Wednesday’s cold black heart,” she led you through the graveyard and you considered it. There was nowhere else you could bury him and properly mark the grave.

Before you could respond though, you were left speechless. You saw the grave, the tombstone with a majestic bear carved into it, and your dad’s name on it. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at the casket, at the black wood and white golden details, shaped like lightning on the edges.

“Ah, Tish, Y/N, come, come, I’ve made sure Elijah can have the funeral fitting of the man he was in life,” Gomez ushered you closer, showing you all the intricate details he put effort in. “We weren’t sure if you’d be the one calling your mother or if you’d want us to inform her instead. Everything else is ready,” he told you, patting you on the back in a comforting way.

“I’ll call her, Mr. Addams,” you said, still unable to come up with a response for this gesture. “I can’t put into words how thankful I am,” you bowed your head low to the two of them. “For this,” you motioned toward everything Gomez did. “For letting me stay here and treating my wounds, I-“ you choked up.

“It’s okay, let it all out,” Morticia’s words broke you, and you sobbed your heart out, releasing all the emotions within you, not for a moment worrying that they might judge you for it.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that before your tears dried up and Morticia placed a hand on your back. “Y/N, I know this is abrupt, but, if you ever wish to do so I can let you talk to Elijah, at least for a bit. The wounds on your heart are still fresh, I suggest you wait until they have enough time to decay, but whenever you wish to, now, or later, I’m here to help you with that.”

You could talk to him? You could have that conversation? Tell him you were sorry for everything? You nearly said you wanted to do it now. But Morticia was right, everything was still too fresh, so you nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Addams,” you failed to correct yourself, and she didn’t correct you, probably knowing much better than you that there would be better times to adjust the way you addressed her and Gomez. “I’ll wait for a bit.”

“Of course,” she nodded, smiling gently at you.

You slowly got up, realizing you were much more exhausted than you thought you’d be. And though you did it slowly you made your way back into the mansion with Morticia and Gomez.

And the moment you stepped inside you were startled by a colorful blur that didn’t fit with the lack of colors in the mansion and a hand colliding with your face.

“Enid, Thing,” you groaned, though it came out muffled because of Thing, just barely staying on your feet.

“You’re awake! OMG! You’re awake!” Enid exclaimed, sobbing into your shirt as you patted her on the back and Thing moved to the top of your head where you gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, I, I’m awake,” you managed a smile, you were genuinely happy to see the two of them again. You missed them, you thought of them, as well as your mom and Wednesday when you were sure you’d likely die, so seeing them again felt amazing.

Enid separated from you and looked you over, she nodded, satisfied that you were alive and well on your way to recovery. “Thing and I will get Wednesday, right Thing?” Enid smiled at you, though her eyes were still filled with tears.

“Thanks,” you nodded, eager to see her properly, with both of you now awake and fully aware.

~X~

Enid and Thing came to get her, interrupting a rather unproductive writing time. And she followed them down one set of stairs toward the living room.

She watched from the top of the stairs, silent. You were standing there with her parents, with your back turned to the stairs as her mother placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. Now that you were awake you looked normal, though the image she received on her phone overlapped with what she was seeing at the moment. Your body, apparently lifeless, covered in blood, sent to her as a taunt made her clench her fists, her body trembling slightly. Even after knowing you were fine she couldn’t get rid of that image that easily.

“Come on, you’re the one she wants to see the most,” Enid nudged her, and she felt Thing pulling at her pants, but she remained rooted to the top of the stairs. Her cold, dead heart shattering as she thought of what could have happened.

Perhaps you didn’t die for her, but you could have died because of her, because you got involved in this, whatever this even was, for her. She thought Crackstone was the danger she needed to watch out for, that with him gone and you growing much stronger after that night, you managed to avoid the curse.

She was hasty, and she nearly lost you. She inhaled sharply and you abruptly turned your attention toward her, your eyes widening as you saw her.

“Wednesday,” you said her name and it was as if someone broke a curse that kept her rooted to the top of the stairs.

She went down, barely aware that Thing nearly tumbled down the stairs with how suddenly she moved, and she wasn’t sure if she walked down the stairs or ran, but the next thing she knew she was standing in front of you, the bandages peeking out just above your collar making her stop and stare just for a moment.

And then all her defenses came down and she grabbed onto you, tightly, possessively, clutching onto the back of your neck and pulling you down until she felt your breath against the skin of her neck, her other arm keeping you pressed against her body. “Mi Rayo,” she whispered, her hand pressing against your back, right where your heart was hoping to feel it beating against her palm. And it was faint, but she felt it.

“I’m alive, Wednesday, I’m alive,” you assured her, your lips brushing against her neck as you hugged her back. And Wednesday thought that you should never move your hands, that she should feel your fingers digging into her flesh as you held her so desperately at all times. “I’m with you,” and you should never leave her side, she hated to admit it, but she didn’t want to spend a day away from you ever again.

A/N: Well, that’s it until the season 2, I swear it can’t come out quickly enough.

Taglist: @brocoliisscared @alexkolax

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter IV: Break Your Pretty Face

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

song(s) for this chapter: no remorse by metallica, hate you by boston manor, choke by idkhow, let’s talk about your hair by have mercy

chapter tags: swearing, drinking, meanish!eddie, angst | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

summary: everyone seems to be lobbying against you, in favor of the kid that put your brother in jail.

a/n: inspo returning rapidly, don’t let me burn out now.

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj comment/message to be added!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

“Chris.” You give him your best death glare, arms crossed tightly against your chest. “Talk.”

“In my defense,” he stands from his spot on the floor. “I thought he’d told you years ago. I didn’t think to follow up, I thought it was just, y’know, common sense.”

You scoff. “And you think Eddie has that?”

“Y’know what, kid? Yeah, I do. Eddie’s a good fuckin’ dude. Granted, I guess I can see why you wouldn’t think so under these circumstances, but I have to let him explain that to you. I couldn’t begin to understand that choice.”

It’s like he’s speaking in riddles. What could there possibly be to explain? Eddie testified against Chris to save himself. Case closed, he’s a selfish bastard. “You gotta go see him, Bee.”

“Why do I care?”

“Come on, you care a little. You two used to-“

“Shut up.” You grit your teeth. “You haven’t been here. You have no fucking clue what happened to us.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re dropping me off though, I’m not wasting gas on this bullshit.”

He nods, unhooking his keys from his belt loop. “Well,” he gestures to the door, “After you.”

-

You get to Eddie’s trailer in what feels like record time, causing you to frantically rehearse what you want to say to him. You have no idea what Chris has said, why he’s so adamant that the two of you speak.

“Call me if you need a ride home, ‘kay?” Chris unlocks the passenger door. “And please, don’t kill him. I know he looks tough, but that kid’s the biggest softy I know.”

You groan, rolling your eyes so hard you’re sure they’ll get stuck. “I can’t guarantee I won’t at least try to kill him.” You mock his tone from earlier. He shoves you playfully, and you swing the car door open.

Eddie’s underneath his van, an old piece of scrap metal on wheels at this point, and you can hear him grunting as you approach him.

“Careful now, don’t want her wound too tight.” You gently kick his foot, and he slides out from under the vehicle.

“Back for revenge?” Eddie slaps his hands together to wipe off the excess grease he’s accumulated, then stands to better greet you. He turns the music on his stereo down, some obnoxious metal song you’re sure he thinks is super artistic. “Look, I know you probably didn’t want me taking care of you, but I wasn’t gonna just leave you there to pass out on the floor.”

“I just want some answers.”

“Yeah, alright.” Eddie wipes the sweat from his forehead. You can’t help but take him in, white t-shirt covered in black soot, coveralls pulled down low on his waist. His hair is tied back, revealing his soft cheeks and metal clad ears. He catches you staring and waves a dirty hand in front of your face. “Hello, earth to Tweety?”

“Stop calling me that.” You huff, fists clenching at your sides. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“That’s why I like it. But fine, what d’you want me to call you?”

You glare at him. You know he’ll come up with a multitude of nicknames that will make your stomach flip with rage if you give him that freedom. “Bee’s fine.”

“Aw, c’mon, everyone else calls you Bee.”

You shrug. “Shoulda thought about that when you betrayed my trust forever.” He’s too invested in your banter, and you catch him off guard.

“Wow, right to it, huh? No ‘How’re you, Eddie,’ no ‘Sorry I puked all over your shoes, Eddie.”

You flush. “I puked on your shoes?”

His facade breaks, and he grins wickedly. “No, you didn’t. But I had ya for a second.”

“Ugh, can you be serious for like, five minutes? Then I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Forever, huh? Sounds way too good to be true.” You can’t explain why his words sting. You feel them in your throat. Eddie plucks a joint from his ashtray and pats his many pockets. “You gotta light?” He asks, filter between his teeth.

You pluck your bright yellow lighter from your sweatshirt pocket, offering it to him. “Thanks, Bee.” He winks at you, and you fight the urge to start walking home. He puffs on the poorly rolled joint and offers it to you.

“No, thanks. I only smoke with friends.” It’s a low blow, you recognize that, but the frustration in your chest is building to an unbearable level.

Eddie clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me.” He pouts, batting his obnoxiously button-like eyes. You have to look away.

“Well, you said you wanted answers. Let’s see what I can provide.” He hops up onto the hood of his car, feet dangling above his license plate. You stay planted in front of him, posture tense as you debate how to approach the topic. “Why doesn’t Chris hate you?”

Your question throws him off. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Munson. You testified against him. I’d be counting down the days til I got out so I could get your ass if it were me. How- why are you guys still friends?”

Eddie shakes his head, inhaling yet another hit. “Chris is just not that guy, I guess. Maybe he had time to think in the hole.” His response is completely unconvincing, and you roll your eyes for the millionth time today.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Okay, you know what? He told me to do it. Said it would keep me out.”

A pregnant pause. Then, shrieking, “And you just listened to him?!” Your voice is octaves above natural, growing more piercing by the second. “Friends don’t do that! They don’t betray each other.”

“Look, Bee, I don’t know what you want from me. An apology? Fine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I listened to Chris and got him locked up, I’m sorry I’ve made you fucking despise me. I was eighteen, barely fuckin’ legal. I had no priors, no guidance. I had no one to ask for some goddamn help— besides Chris— so I trusted him. If I could go back and change it, I would. I’d rather have him hate me one hundred times over if it would mean a good relationship with you.” He stops abruptly, lips pressed together tightly like he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Well, you can’t.” A weak response, mumbled to the floor.

“Yeah, no shit.” Eddie cranks the music back up, slamming the door on your conversation. It’s another loud, angry song. “You can go now.” He turns his back to you, and you can’t even bring yourself to ask for your lighter back.

-

“I can’t fucking stand him!” You’re pacing Robin’s room back and forth while she watches with wide, deer in headlight eyes. “He has the fucking audacity to tell me my brother asked him to snitch? He really thought I’d believe that?” You turn to Robin, and she gapes at you. “Hello?”

“What? Oh, sorry. I don’t know, Bee! Think about it. Chris took Ed under his wing. They did everything together.”

“Yeah, you think I don’t know that?”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying, it’s a valid reason to hate him. He was treated more like Chris’s blood than you were sometimes. But, I dunno, I don’t think Eddie would lie. Not to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Robin sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “God, it’s kinda crazy that you can’t see it. The way that kid used to follow you around like a lost puppy, the way he still looks at you now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You’re in no headspace to consider what she’s saying, not after what you learned today.

“Please, Bee! He had no fucking reason to take care of you. He wanted to.”

You groan, flopping back onto her bed. “I don’t trust him. I can’t.”

“Yeah, it’s him you can’t trust.”

You sit with it, let it eat you alive, but you don’t respond.

-

Steve arrives at his and Robin’s shared apartment with pizza an hour later, and offers both of you a fancy IPA that’s supposed to “enhance the flavors of the sauce.” You snort at his pretentious delivery, but accept the drink anyway.

“What did I miss?” He flops down on the couch between you and Robin, remote aimed at the television.

“Nothing much, Bee just learned some very earth shattering news.”

“What?” Steve whips his head in your direction, eyes frantic. “What god awful thing did she tell you about me.”

Robin snorts. “Dingus, relax. Not everything is about you!”

You snicker, and pry a piece of pizza from the box, cheese stretching across the table. “But now I wanna know what would make you this nervous if she did tell me!” You fold the pie before cramming a bite into your mouth.

“No, we’re not changing the subject. What happened?”

You glare at Robin for bringing it up. Steve has a tendency to worry when things aren’t all sunshine and rainbows with his friends. He knows you and Eddie aren’t close, but he appreciates your mutual ability to remain civil. “Robin thinks Eddie has a thing for me.”

“Eddie definitely has a thing for you.” Steve says without missing a beat, unfazed by the bomb he’s dropping on your head.

“What?”

“What? Is this not common knowledge? I’ve known for, like, months. I dunno if it’s a crush, per se, but there’s… something. You can’t tell me you had no idea.”

You definitely did not have any idea. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be, that doesn’t make any goddamn sense! He treats me like shit, like I’m the most annoying person on the planet. He never invites me to hang out with you guys, we haven’t hung out alone in, like, six years. You're making shit up.” You cross your arms, waiting for the argument that doesn’t come.

Steve shrugs. “He knows you don’t like him. Or, he thinks you don’t. I know better.” Steve winks at you, and you stick your tongue at him. “He’ll probably never admit it, but if you just pay the smallest bit of attention to the way he acts around you, you’ll get it.” Robin nods in agreement, like she’s known this all along.

“You guys are traitors!” You groan, taking another messy bite of pizza. “Can’t believe my best friends are telling me the most dreadful news possible right now.”

“Oh relax, drama queen. It could be worse, I could tell you all the things he’s told me about you in middle school.”

Your eyes feel like they pop out of your head. “What the fuck did he tell you?!”

Robin giggles. “Don’t worry about it!”

You flip her off, and she throws her head back, cackling.

—

The Hideout is dead. It’s a weeknight, and the only people at the joint are the same five drunks you’ve grown quite fond of over the last few years. There’s Samuel, a construction worker that’s been on the same job for the last two years with almost nothing to show for it; Jack, the executive supervisor of some uppity tech business in Indianapolis that’s yelling on the phone outside most of the time; Suzette, who comes in on Sundays to watch the game, and Mike and Mark, the old gay couple that tip you really well and call you Dolly.

“More Jack, Jack?” Your perky disposition makes the suit smile ever so slightly.

“Make it a double, darlin’.” He jabs the END button on his cell grumpily, and you pour his whiskey neat into a fresh glass.

You’re about to ask him what’s got him upset, he usually isn’t here during this late, when the door swings open with a creak, barely drowned out by the song blaring over the speakers, one you’d chosen to let off some steam that is very quickly finding its way back.

It’s as if the universe is out to get you. Eddie holds the door open for his date, a date that is certainly not Chrissy Cunningham. This girl looks more like Morticia Addams and a tattoo machine had a baby, and you wonder if this was who Robin had been referring to. She’s stunning, covered neck to toe in intricate ink you could play iSpy with. Her hair is long, dark, and silky, swaying down to her butt. Did this woman lose a bet? Why is she here with him?

He catches you staring and has the audacity to wink at you, pulling a chair out for Morticia. You quickly avert your eyes, suddenly fascinated with the stains on the bar. It’s not two minutes later that you feel his presence in front of you.

“Hey, Tw- Bee. Funny seeing you here.”

You don’t respond to his attempt at conversation. “What do you want?” You deadpan, trying to keep your expression blank. Uninterested. Cold.

“I’ll have a beer, Red Stripe if you got it. The lady wants a martini, extra dry.”

“‘Course she does.” You think you say it quiet enough, but the tilt of his head tells you otherwise.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch, Princess?”

“What? Nothing! She just looks like the type, y’know? Fancy.” You cringe. Luckily, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.

“She’s so cool, right? Name’s Macy. Met her at a gig.”

“Uh huh. Here,” You hand him his drinks. “Would you like to open a tab?”

“Nah, this is only our first stop.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “And, no offense, this isn’t really an ideal date spot.”

His words knock your brain around. “Date, huh?” The words catch in your throat. “I didn’t think Eddie Munson went on dates.”

Eddie falters, but recovers quickly. “I’m full of surprises, Sweets.” He slides the drinks off the bar, slapping a 20 on the table. “Keep the change. See ya ‘round.” He kisses the air in your direction, and your fist clenched tightly around the soda gun. You spray yourself in the face with club soda, and grit your teeth to keep from screaming.

—

Your shift is crawling by, your only company until eleven being the cook and the seven patrons, two of which you’ve been staring daggers at for the last hour. Someone has queued a slew of slow, sad songs and you have a suspicion Suzette is still sulking about the Colts’ loss.

Eddie and Macy are lost in conversation. He’s staring at her with a stupid, lovesick expression you wish you could slap off his face. She seems enamored, sipping her second martini without ever breaking eye contact with him. It drives you up the wall. As if hearing your silent prayers, Eddie pushes from the table, and holds out Macy’s coat for her to slip her slender arms into. He slips his own leather clad arm around her waist and make their way to the door. You’re almost at ease, finally, but he stops abruptly and pivots on his heel, coming right at you.

“Hey,” He calls, leaning over the bar as you whip around, busying yourself organizing the fridge. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” You don’t turn around, stacking used glasses on the dish rack.

“Can I ask the front of you something?” His voice is teasing. You turn back to face him, finding his face far too close to yours. Behind him, Macy’s tapping her foot in annoyance by the door.

“Make it quick, you're keeping her waiting.” You nod in her direction, but he brushes it off.

“You ever… think about what could have happened? Y’know, with us? If things were different, I mean.” You can smell the beer on his breath, he’s so close.

You shrug. “Not really, no.”

His face falls for a fraction of a second before he recovers, stoic.

“Right, yeah. ‘Course not. See ya, Bee.” He waves weakly, then steps forward to hold the door for Macy, disappearing into the Autumn night and leaving your brain feeling like TV static.

—

You get home around 3am, dragging your sore feet over the threshold with a heavy groan. The apartment is quiet, save for the gym of the TV coming from Chris’s makeshift bedroom in the den. He’s out like a light, snoring obnoxiously as reruns of The Simpsons flash multicolored across his face. You tiptoe past him, into your room where you all but collapse on top of your bed, still fully clothed. Eddie’s question plays on repeat in your head, much to your frustration. Why does he even care if you think about him? Why would he ask you that?

You’re pondering whether to tell Steve when your phone starts ringing.

You can’t hide the exhaustion, wishing you could just curl up and pass out. Steve knows you’re awake, knows you just got home. “Hey, Stevie.”

“Hey, Bee. You okay?” Worry laces your friend’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitates, you can hear his breath stutter into the receiver. “Well, I got a cryptic text from Eddie. He told me he did something stupid, was wondering if you had a clue what he was talking about?”

You roll onto your back, groaning into the phone. “Is this really that important right now? Eddie’s dramatic, we know this. He didn’t do anything worth panicking over.”

“But he did do something?”

“Ugh, no! He was drunk. Asked me if I ever thought about him, if we could be friends I guess.”

“And what’d you say?”

“I was honest. I said no.”

“Shit, Bee. That’s cold.”

“What, should I have lied? Told him we could’ve been best friends if he hadn’t snitched on my brother?”

There’s a lilt in Steve’s voice. “Is that a lie?”

You bite your lip, thinking. Maybe you and Eddie could’ve been friends, but there’s no use dwelling on it. “No, it’s not. I don’t like to live my life through what ifs.”

“Okay. I get it. I mean, I get what you’re saying. I get his worry too, though.”

You roll your eyes despite his inability to see you. “Okay, Steve. It’s late. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Yeah, alright. Sweet dreams, Bee.”

“‘Night, Stevie.” You click the END button and place your phone on the nightstand. After a struggle to get up, you quickly change into your pajamas, swearing you’ll shower in the morning, before flopping back into bed.

—

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely!! How are you? I completely understand if you aren’t comfy writing this but I was wondering if you could write something with Sirius x reader where she enjoys sex but bc of how she was raised she feels guilty for enjoying it/wanting it if that makes sense? Just him reassuring her that it’s okay to want it and it doesn’t make her dirty or wrong.

Again, I completely get if you aren’t okay writing it, I love your stories so much. Thank you!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: smut, mdni, reader has negative associations with sex and "impurity"

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius’ breath is hot on your ear, moving the baby hairs there slightly. You think dizzily that it’s almost like having a hair dryer pointed at you. Except a hair dryer would never say the things he’s telling you.

“There y’go.” He kisses the skin just shy of your ear, a tiny reward. “Just like—fuck, just like that. Good fucking girl.” 

The high you get from the praise comes with a bite of shame. You try to ignore the latter, fisting your hands in the covers as Sirius quickens his pace and the feeling in your core builds and builds, your cunt gripping his cock for dear life. Sirius’s hands are at your chest, still confined in the corset top you’d worn out tonight. He squeezes your boob through the fabric, and you have to bite your lip to suppress the moan that rises from the back of your throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans when you tighten on him again. “You like that?”

You nod, too self-conscious and delirious with pleasure to attempt speech. 

Sirius kisses you, working your bottom lip free of your teeth as he grips your boob more intentionally. It comes readily out of your top and into his palm, where Sirius kneads at it diligently. You’re making sounds into his mouth now, but so is he, and when his thumb pushes over your nipple at the same time as he drives into you, you finish only a few seconds before he does. 

“Damn,” Sirius says when he can speak again. He’s panting, pulling out of you slowly to lie on the bed beside you. “That top is something else. I didn’t know you even had clothes like that, you sneak.” 

When you blush, it’s from more than just his teasing tone. “Only this one,” you say, as though that’s some kind of excuse. You usually would never wear a top like the one Sirius has half torn off you tonight, but you’ve admired the way he and his friends dress ever since you met them. You want to be that bold, that unafraid. And when you’d seen the corset top in a thrift store a couple months back, it had struck you instantly as something the person you wanted to be might wear. Someone more daring than you truly were. It had taken you until tonight to work up the gall to actually wear it outside of your bedroom, but Sirius had not let its debut go by unappreciated. 

“Well, if you feel like buying more,” Sirius says against your shoulder, kissing at your hot skin with casual reverence, “you won’t catch me complaining. You look hot in it.” He nibbles at your clavicle. “Although I guess that’s true of everything you wear.” 

Your face burns. “Thanks.” 

Sirius must hear something of your hesitation in your voice, because he picks his head up, gray eyes narrowing at you. “You don’t agree?” he asks, and he’s still trying to play, one eyebrow arching dramatically. 

You laugh. It’s so obviously forced that Sirius drops the act instantly, pushing up on his elbows to see you more clearly. He unsticks a strand of hair from your sweaty cheek, running it between his fingers. “Something the matter, pretty girl?” 

Something is the matter. You feel like you always do after sex, but worse because of the showy top that had provoked Sirius’ advances in the first place. You feel guilty, dirty, the stickiness between your thighs more like grime now than pleasure. You feel like you might be a “good girl” the way Sirius means, but you’re miles off from the sort of good you were raised to be. 

“Sweetheart,” Sirius croons, and he’s wheedling, “I think I know what you’re thinking, and if I’m right, you know it’ll make you feel better to talk about it.” 

You sigh. “I’m sorry,” you say. It’s as good as an admittance. “I don’t mean to take all the fun out of it.” 

“Hey.” He sweeps the piece of hair behind your ear, giving you a look nearly as stern as it is fond. “I’m not having any fun if you’re not, got it? And I wouldn’t want to.” Your gaze drops, and Sirius moves his hand to your face, angling it gently to face him. “We should both be able to enjoy ourselves,” he says. 

“I know.” You sigh again. You can’t seem to stop; it’s as if all the air wants to flee your body as badly as you do. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it…it’s that I don’t enjoy enjoying it.” You try to crack a joke, and Sirius gives you a small smile, pecking you on the cheek for your efforts. “It’s hard to reprogram myself to think of sex as something that I’m allowed to like, you know?” 

Sirius’ grin fades as he nods, eyebrows drawn together pensively. “I think so,” he says. “When I first figured out I liked boys too, it took me a long time to feel like I wasn’t doing something wrong, even though I knew everyone I actually cared about would be fine with it. It’s…like, you have to convince yourself every time that you’re not going to get in trouble, and that even if you do, anyone who could be upset with you is on the wrong side of things.” 

You’re nodding before he’s even finished. “Exactly,” you say, fighting the urge to draw your knees to your chest, to make yourself small. “It’s hard to put out the voices saying otherwise, though.” 

Sirius hums. “Well,” he says softly, lowering himself over you to press a kiss to your jaw, “suppose you just listen to my voice instead.” He moves downward, to your neck, your chest. The warmth in your core flares up anew. “Whaddya think, my sweet girl?” When he gets to your navel, he slides off the end of the bed. “Wanna try convincing yourself it’s alright while I convince you too?”

You draw breath to answer, but it turns to a gasp when Sirius hooks his hands under your knees without warning, yanking you to the end of the bed. He waits there patiently, breath warming your inner thighs. You can’t find your voice, but you nod. Sirius grins.

“Alright. That’ll do for now, baby, but soon I wanna hear you enjoying yourself. Gonna show those voices who’s really in charge.”

[strongheartneteyam]

Late night fun.

pairing: human!neteyam x female!reader

cw: fluff, established relationship, oral sex (female & male receiving), dirty talk, netflix and chill (lol), grinding, snuggling for warmth "trope", use of "babygirl" and "princess", hair pulling, dominant neteyam/sub reader, use of "daddy", use of "slut", possessive neteyam, slight degradation, praising kink, slut-for-neteyam-reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be just a cozy winter night where you would chill in bed with your boyfriend while watching TV... but when it came to you and Neteyam alone in a room for too long, it was never just cuddles. The magnetic force that was the attraction that burned between the both of you was far too strong.

I've been wanting to write something for human neteyam for ages and I guess this is my first attempt lol hope my dear readers like it <3

Not proofread. The heat is cooking my brain 🧠 🔥 sorry babies, mama promises to do it soon lol

⋆

The night was cold and there was a sitcom playing on the big TV on Neteyam's bedroom. You snuggled closer to your boyfriend's chest, trying to get some warmth out of his soft black hoodie and his own body heat.

Neteyam chuckled at your smaller body holding onto his - he was 6'1, so, it was not hard for a girl to look short compared to his tall, broad body - and said "You cold, babygirl?" His voice was a bit hoarse and you had always found it to be the sexiest thing ever, even before you two started dating. Neteyam wrapped his strong, long arm around you, pulling you even closer.

"Mmhmm... You're so warm and comfy. I love it." your words were tender and needy. You let out a relaxed sigh.

"You're cute, baby." He pressed his lips softly on your forehead, making you feel protected.

After cuddling with Neteyam for a while, you started feeling a big bulge under his jeans.

"Teyam, you're hard?" A mischievous chuckle left your lips

"Don't blame me. It's impossible not to get turned on with these delicious fleshy thighs wrapped around my hips." He tried to defend himself and you could only keep laughing, though you tried to keep your voice down not to wake his family up. God knows Jake was a strict ex marine dad and Neytiri was short tempered. They were the best parents in law to you, despite that.

"Want me to help you out with that?" Your dirty suggestion comes with a pair of lustful eyes directed at Neteyam's gorgeous face. His sharp jaw looked sexier than ever that night. Or maybe you were just turned on by the feeling of his hard cock against your soft thigh.

Neteyam answered you by swiftly placing you on top of him. You were now straddling his large lap and you couldn't help but grind against his erection.

"Keep doing that and I'll use your little mouth to make me cum before I fuck your tight pussy." Neteyam warned, his voice husky. Your teasing ways always drove him crazy with desire.

You smiled at him.

"You know I don't mind if you do that." Your lips kissed his warm neck and you were drowning in the natural, cozy scent of Neteyam's skin.

Before you could notice, Neteyam grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look at him.

"Adress me right, then." Your breath was slightly labored and at this point your panties were utterly soaked.

"Daddy?" You tried

"That's right" Neteyam grinned, cocky. He loved it when you were good for him. "My obedient little slut."

"All yours, Daddy. Just yours." You mewled, eager to suck his cock. It was just like you could taste him already.

"Only mine." He reinforced your previous statement "Get off me for a while, princess." You immediately obeyed. You loved being his fucktoy.

Neteyam got on his knees and took his hoodie off, followed by his white shirt and then his light blue jeans. His clothes were now on the floor and your mouth almost watered at the sight of his large, girthy cock, all out to see. God, why was his cock so big and so pretty? Is that weird to think a guy's cock is pretty? Not that you actually cared about that at that moment. The only thing you truly cared about was tasting that little bead of pre cum on the slit of his swollen tip.

"Come." Neteyam ordered and you did as he said.

You got closer to him and he rapidly took your black buttoned up shirt off, revealing part of your body to him.

"You're so fucking hot. So fucking perfect for me." Neteyam praised you, winning a shy but joyful smile from your rosy lips."Now, wrap these pretty lips around Daddy's cock."

You lowered yourself, face right next to his hard member, your ass up in the air. Neteyam roughly grabbed one of your butt cheeks, squeezing the soft flesh hard, getting a somehow sadistic delight from that action.

Your mouth was now filled with his cock, his girth making it hard to fit it all in but you did your best to please him. Neteyam breathed in with pleasure while he looked down at you with half lidded eyes.

"Feels good" he murmured, captivated by the way your soft, warm tongue felt on his length. Your head made up and down movements swiftly and you looked up at him, eyes full of submission and devotion.

Neteyam grabbed the back of your head and gently pushed you away from his cock. You licked your lips, his strong taste lingering in your tastebuds. You kissed his toned but soft torso, licking his skin too. You wanted all of him, you needed all of him.

"Put your tongue out for Daddy." Not a second later, your tongue was already out as you waited for what was to come.

Neteyam grabbed his cock and put his girthy, swollen tip on your wet tongue, making tapping motions over and over again at a rapid pace, making you feel like a dirty slut but you loved to feel like that for him and only for him. Tasting his salty, musky pre cum on your mouth made you feel something so unique and you were just utterly addicted to it.

He watched you, full of himself, seeing how much you loved tasting his juices.

"Now it's my turn to taste you." Neteyam stated

"But I'm not done yet..." You protested with a whiny face

"I love how greedy you are for my cock, princess, but I wanna make you feel good too, hmm?" Neteyam buried his long fingers on your soft hair, holding your head in a slight move of soft but effective dominance

"'Kay..." You looked a bit defeated

Your response was followed by a chuckle coming from Neteyam.

"Don't act like you don't like it. Don't be a little brat."

"That's not it. You know I love it when you eat me out, Daddy." You gave him a lewd smile

"Then open these legs for me." Neteyam's large hand touched your inner thigh, caressing the sensitive skin slowly.

Now you wanted to feel his tongue on your core more than anything in the world. You laid back at the comfortable mattress, in the sheets that smelled just like Neteyam and watched as he slid your white panties down your legs.

Neteyam hiked up your skirt, leaving your pussy out to see. He opened your legs and stared at your glistening folds, coated with your juices. Your boyfriend was now licking your pussy from the bottom until your clit. When his warm tongue reached your sensitive nub, you let out a cry of pleasure.

"Just don't be too loud so we don't wake my family up, okay, babygirl?" He smiled at you, lips shining with your juices all over them. That was so dirty and so fucking sexy.

You moved your head back and fourth, telling him you understood, desperate for him to continue what he was doing before.

Neteyam started suckling on your clit and your mouth fell open with the wave of pleasure that came over you. Your hips started moving while you pushed your wet cunt against his mouth. You could feel his nose rubbing against your clitoris now, as he was licking you deep, gathering your juices with his tongue and swallowing them, savoring his babygirl's taste. You tasted like Heaven to Neteyam.

You held onto his thin, silky braids while Neteyam feasted on your sticky cunt, eating you out so eagerly you felt like the hottest girl alive. He looked up to you, his hazel eyes so enticing, almost like he was trying to tell you through his piercing gaze how much he loved eating your pussy. Neteyam sneaked one of his hands under your bra, cupping one of your boobs while he kept licking you. All the things he was doing to you were so good that you had to put both your hands over your mouth to try and muffle the way you were moaning intensely. Your legs were starting to tremble now.

⋆

Taglist:

@yeosxxx

@criticallybella

[naivegh0ul]

some ghost headcanons bc I cannot stop thinking about him

can't handle spices for the life of him. thinks salt is spicy

HATES horror movies. they make him paranoid :(

super clingy. he loves physical touch, just snuggling up to someone and resting his head on top of theirs <3

he has this stupid little nokia phone that looks tiny in his hands. he says it's practical bc it's hard to break but really he just can't be bothered to upgrade to a new phone

really tech savvy tho. loves to code

he likes to share his things (i.e the ghost team cutscene)

has fallen asleep standing up many times. he's like a horse and it terrifies the recruits

snores so goddamn loud it literally vibrates through the floors

he sneezes loud too. it's like a bomb going off. he scares himself with how his sneeze is sometimes

keeps a picture of him and his team in shoe

the best sense of direction ever. it's actually kind of scary. you could be lost in the middle of nowhere and ghost will point in a random direction, totally guessing and you'll end up out of the forest and back in civilisation

he says the worst jokes. they're so bad that they're kinda good

he's a cat person through and through. he likes dogs, sure, but he loves cats. especially black cats

only takes boiling hot showers. if the water isn't burning his skin, he doesn't want it. he doesn't like baths, it's too quiet and most of them are too small for him to fit into anyways

nsfw headcanons below the cut

when i said he was clingy, i meant it. this man will keep you in bed for hours, cock buried inside you as he lazily rocks back and forth.

sometimes he falls asleep while still inside you and gets really grumpy when you try to get up

loves pubic hair. he goes crazy when his partner has hair down there. he just thinks it's so damn hot

he likes shoving his fingers in your mouth. not to shut you up (though he does that a lot) but he just likes watching you gag a little on his fingers and then suckle on them softly

100% a brat tamer. he loves when his partners are fiery and playfully

he likes pliable, soft people as well. likes to see how obedient they are and how far they'll go to please him

he gives the best head it's actually insane

he's a hairy boy. absolutely covered in hair, especially on his chest and thighs

he can be so mean but so sweet in bed. cooing praises while he bends you over his knee, or stroking your hair as he makes you gag on his cock

LOVES to pull you onto his lap and grope you. he will grab you by the hips and try to yank you into his laps whenever you're near. just loves having you near/on him at all times