#It's like I have stepped into uncharted waters-

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x fem!reader

contents: fluff and sweetness. pre-relationship. more than friends but less than lovers trope. many shared little moments with sylus that make it special 🤍

⭒ It becomes second nature for Sylus to carry your purse on his shoulder when you both have an outing and he follows you around like an obedient puppy as you shop from one clothing rack to another. Sometimes he gets distracted on his phone whilst glancing up at you every now and then that he doesn’t realize you both are in the men’s section. A rather adorable pondering expression on your face as you hold a shirt up to his chest. “I think this would suit you nicely.” No second opinion is needed and he collects the item from you for purchasing because if you say so then he believes it.

⭒ When Sylus somehow finds himself a passenger because maybe you wanted to test drive his car that easily has 1600hp—he’s thoroughly amused as you feel out the dynamics of the vehicle. More so when you accidentally step on the brakes a little too hard, as you are unfamiliar with the sensitivity of the pedals. In a show of panic, you throw your arm across his chest to brace for the sudden jolt which earns you a teasing remark followed by a playful quip back at him. However, there’s a subtle smile on his lips as you continue down the road because your first instinct is to save him.

⭒ You and Sylus have a casual routine with Friday nights being reserved for the both of you. When you’d normally grab takeout during the busy working week, you opt for a simple home-cooked meal to unwind and enjoy a leisurely evening. Before you can even register the force of habit, you’re pulling out two plates to set the table and like clockwork Sylus appears at your apartment door. A little bag of your favorite pastries to finish off the meal with something sweet because he learned you couldn’t go without it. Funny how he knows these things about you, and how you knew to grab his favorite cheese pancakes on the way home for appetizers.

⭒ The crow twins deliver you something on behalf of Sylus and he receives a little treat from you every other time this happens. You’d pack a small box of savory/sweet baked goods that you made earlier in the day to return his thoughtful gesture. However, at your words Luke and Kieran assumed a surprise wouldn’t be missed if their boss doesn’t know about it. Fast forward to those two apologetic boys surrounded by a swirling red and kneeling before their boss under his menacing stare because those cream puffs should've been handed to him directly. After hearing about this, you made certain to pack enough for the three of them next time.

⭒ Napping at someone else’s home other than your own feels like uncharted territory because sleeping anywhere but your warm and familiar bed places you in a vulnerable position. Even though Sylus has given you permission to make yourself comfortable at his estate several times, the safest place you feel is beside him with your head lulling against his shoulder when you’re running on a few hours of sleep. He’s the picture of comfort with a fleeting kiss to your head and draping his coat over you, and he may even find his cheek pressed against you to catch some shut-eye himself.

⭒ There’s something to be said about Sylus being led by you—he secretly loves surrendering himself to your every whim and that includes you tugging him by the hand and steering him toward the direction of cute ducklings paddle their way into the waters with a splash. Your elated reaction and innocent sparkle is all very endearing to him and he takes a moment to savor it before shifting his gaze to the small animals. “Now, aren’t you glad we decided to have this stroll after all?” You offer him your response and his heart warms when he realizes that you still haven’t let go of his hand.

[twistedreads]

Soaked in you— Nick Leister

summary— it’s you and Nick’s first time showering together and it gets steamy.

warnings- smut, fingering(fem received) handjobs, nipple play, dirty talk

a/n— Y’all I don’t write smut so bare with me 😭

Masterlist

The bathroom was filled with steam, the warm mist curling through the air as water cascaded from the showerhead, its rhythmic patter against the tile the only sound in the quiet room. Your heart was pounding, your skin already heated—not just from the rising temperature in the room but from the anticipation coiling in your stomach.

Nick stood in front of you, his golden-tan skin illuminated by the soft glow of the bathroom light, his curls damp from the humidity. His brown eyes, deep and unreadable, scanned your face with something both gentle and intense, as if he were trying to read your every thought.

This was your first time together like this.

Sure, things had gotten heated before—passionate kisses, stolen moments where hands had wandered a little too far, breathy whispers exchanged in the dark—but this? This was something new. Something uncharted.

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt, hesitating.

Nick caught the hesitation immediately, his gaze softening. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

You looked up at him, your chest rising and falling a little too quickly. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this—you did. More than anything. But there was something about the vulnerability of it, the intimacy of sharing everything with him, that sent a nervous thrill through you.

Nick’s hands moved up, cupping your face gently. His thumbs traced slow, reassuring circles against your skin.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

The sincerity in his voice made the tension in your shoulders melt away. You exhaled, nodding slightly.

“I want to,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nick searched your eyes for a moment before nodding, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. His fingers trailed down your arms, slow and deliberate, until they reached the hem of your shirt.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured against your lips.

Your breath hitched.

One by one, the layers between you were shed, the warmth of the room wrapping around you both like a cocoon. Every movement was unhurried, every touch lingering with meaning. There was no rush, no urgency—just the two of you, lost in each other, navigating this new territory together.

Nick stepped into the shower first, holding out a hand for you. You took it, letting him guide you under the stream of warm water. The sensation of it cascading over your bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, but the moment Nick’s hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him, every other sensation faded.

His body was firm, warm, his skin slick under your fingertips as you let your hands wander up his chest.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your shoulder, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses up to your neck.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as he lingered there, his tongue flicking out against your pulse before he gently sucked at the sensitive skin. Your hands found his shoulders, gripping them as his kisses deepened, his touch growing more confident.

Nick’s hands roamed over your skin, tracing the curves of your body. His fingers danced across your chest, teasing your nipple until they hardened beneath his touch. You felt a surge of arousal as he cupped your breast, his thumb circling the sensitive peak.

“Nick,” you breathed, your voice shaky.

“Oh dear, ”he chuckles, pressing a kiss just below your ear.” Don’t tell me you’re nearly falling at the first hurdle?”

His words sent warmth flooding through you, your heart thundering in your chest.

As the warm water cascaded down, Nick’s lips closed around your nipple, sucking gently. You moaned, feeling a wave of pleasure as his tongue swirled around the sensitive peak.

“Oh, that feels so good,” you breathed, your hands threading through his hair.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. You arched your back, pushing your nipple deeper into his mouth, needy.

“Mmm… yes, just like that,” you whispered. You felt a vibration against your breasts, hearing Nick chuckle.

His fingers trailed down your belly, slipping between your legs and onto your clit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans against your skin. “I love how your body response to me.”

You let out a moan.

As he continued to rub your pussy, Nick slides a finger inside you, curling it upward to stroke your inner walls. You gasped at the sensation, feeling yourself pulse around his finger.

“Oh God… Nick!” Your legs trembled beneath his touch.

“That feel good?” he asked softly against your skin, his finger moving in and out of you in a slow rhythm.

You nodded vigorously, unable to form words as his thumb slightly sped up and his finger stroked inside you.

“You like being touched like this?” he whispered dirty things in your ear, making you blush.

As he spoke, Nick slipped another finger inside you, stretching you slightly more. You whimper at the new fullness, feeling yourself grow even more wet.

“Fuck, yes.”

With two fingers now moving in and out of you in a smooth rhythm, Nick curled them both upward, hitting that perfect spot deep inside, making you let out a loud, throaty moan.

“Right there?” Nick asked huskily, speeding up his fingers, pumping faster now.

You could only manage a nod as sensations washed over you, sending shivers coursing down your spine.

His fingers moved faster now, curling, hitting that spot over and over until, finally, you felt yourself shatter into an orgasm. Your body went limp, but Nick’s arms caught hold of you, as he continues to finger you through your orgasm, keeping you upright even as your knees gave way.

“Woah, easy there, I gotcha,” Nick laughs.

For a moment, the only sounds in the bathroom were the steady patter of the water and your heavy, uneven breaths. You barely registered the way Nick slowly slid his fingers out of you, leaving you sensitive and pulsing in the aftermath of your release.

“That was the most sexiest thing I ever seen.” he says.

Then, as you blinked up at him, still lost in the haze of pleasure, you caught the way his deep brown eyes locked onto yours—dark, intense, filled with something unmistakably heat. Without breaking eye contact, he raised his slick fingers to his mouth and slipped them between his lips, sucking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion.

“God, you taste so good,” he murmured, his voice rich with devilish amusement. His gaze flickered over your flushed face, down to your parted lips, and then back up. “I could do that all night.”

The boldness of it sent another shiver through you, your stomach twisting in a fresh new wave of desire.

Nick leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as he pressed a teasing kiss just below your ear. “Next time,” he whispered, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m gonna take my time with you. Taste you properly.”

His words sent a sharp jolt of heat straight through you, leaving you breathless all over again.

You swallowed hard, trying to collect yourself, but the way he looked at you—like he was already thinking about making good on that promise—made it nearly impossible.

Then, with a knowing smirk, Nick pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “But for now,” he mused, brushing his lips over yours in a fleeting kiss, “I think I need to be inside you.”

Suddenly, you felt an urgent need to connect with Nick. You grabbed his face, pulling him down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue but you don’t care. Your hands roamed over each other’s bodies, exploring every curve and contour. The water continued to cascade down around you, but you were lost in the sensation of being together.

As you kissed, your hand slipped down between your bodies, wrapping around Nick’s length. You started to stroke him gently, feeling his warmth and hardness in your palm.

Nick groaned, throwing his head back as he broke away from the kiss. His eyes were closed, his face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and ecstasy.

“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist to still your movements.

You smirked, feeling a thrill at having this power over him.

Nick then grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into another passionate kiss before breaking away, his voice husky with desire.

“Turn around and bend over,” he instructed, his eyes burning with intensity.

You obey, turning to face the wall as you bend over, your hands bracing yourself against the cool tile. Nick’s hands rub over your ass, squeezing it gently as he whispers how sexy you are.

“You have such a beautiful ass.” he says, his fingers digging deeper into your flesh. “I love the way it curves out from your back.”

You moan at the touch, feeling a surge of need as his fingers caress your skin.

Nick’s hands continue to explore your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs.

“Nick please.” You beg not being able to wait any longer.

He smiles at your neediest.” What ever you say baby.”

You feel him slide into you from behind, his dick filling you completely as he waits a few seconds for you to adjust.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and concerned.

You nod, taking a deep breath as you try to accommodate his length. “Yes,” you whisper back.

With that reassurance, Nick starts to move. At first, the pace is slow and gentle, but he quickly picks up.

“You’re so tight,” Nick growls in your ear. “I love how my dick feels inside you.”

He thrusts deeper into you, his hips pounding against yours.

“I love how you feel,” you gasp. “You stretch me out in the best way possible.”

Your words only seem to fuel Nick’s passion. He starts moving harder, faster now.

“You like that, don’t you?” he breathes. “You like when I fuck you hard?”

The bathroom was filled with the steady rhythm of water cascading from the showerhead, mingling with the slick, wet sounds of Nick moving in and out of you. The quiet, intimate space was overtaken by the soft, breathy gasps escaping your lips, the occasional low groan rumbling from Nick’s throat as he watched you unravel beneath his touch. The faint echo of skin against skin, the subtle squelch with each movement, and the way your moans mixed with the steam-heavy air created a symphony of raw, unfiltered passion , making the moment feel even more intense, even more consuming.

As the rhythm builds between you, it becomes almost frantic. Just when it feels like you’re about to cum, Nick suddenly pulls out, making you whimper slightly at the loss of contact.

“Why did you—?” you begin, but before you can finish, Nick cuts you off by turning you around and picking you up against the wall. He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist before he lines up back into you.

This time, he moves with reckless abandon, his hips slamming into yours with intense force. His dick drives deep into you, the sensation overwhelming.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to release, your body trembling with anticipation. Nick’s hands grip your ass tightly, holding you in place as he moves with purpose.

His mouth claims yours in a fierce kiss, tongues tangling together as you both moan in pleasure.

“Oh my gosh, I’m gonna…”you cry out, unable to finish your sentence because of the overwhelming pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Let go for me,” Nick whispers in your ear, and that’s what sets you off.

Your orgasm hits you so intensely that your vision momentarily goes black, causing you to let out the most unrestrained moan you’ve ever made.

As you come down from your high,Nick continues to move, chasing his own high. He feels your walls pulsing around him.

Not long after, he reaches his peak as well, letting out a string of unfilthy words under his breath.

Nick’s breaths were heavy as he leaned his forehead against the cool tile, his arms still wrapped securely around you. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his body still trembling from the intensity of the moment.

You reached up, fingers threading through his damp curls, gently smoothing them back as he caught his breath. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft hum escaping his lips as he relaxed into your comforting presence.

After a moment, he slowly lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. Carefully, pulling out of you and unwrapping your legs from around his waist, lowering you back onto your feet with the utmost care. His hands remained on your waist, steadying you as he searched your face.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with tenderness.

You nodded, a warm, content smile spreading across your lips. “Never better,” you whispered. “Are you?”

He let out a breathy chuckle, resting his forehead against yours. “More than okay,” he murmured, his fingers brushing over your cheek before tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

The two of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the water still cascading down your bodies. Then, out of nowhere, a small, breathless laugh escaped you. Nick raised an eyebrow, his lips curving in amusement.

“What?” he asked, chuckling as well.

“That was… a lot,” you admitted with a grin, your cheeks flushing slightly.

Nick smirked, shaking his head before leaning in to press a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. “Yeah, it was,” he agreed, his voice laced with affection. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You smiled against his lips, your hands still resting in his hair. “I love you,” you whispered softly.

Nick’s expression softened instantly, his eyes filled with warmth as he cupped your face in his hands. “I love you too,” he murmured before kissing you again, this time slower, deeper—filled with nothing but love.

As the steam continued to swirl around you both, Nick finally pulled away with a playful glint in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, reaching for the body wash. “Let’s actually finish showering before we run out of hot water.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached for the loofah, playfully bumping his shoulder. “Fine. But you’re washing my hair.”

Nick grinned, already reaching for the shampoo. “Deal.”

And with that, the two of you continued your shower, basking in the warmth of the water—and each other.

[multifandomlover01]

His Person

Spencer Reid (S1, early stages of relationship) x chubby!fem!reader (I’m basing this off myself mostly)

WC: ~2.5k

Summary: Spencer reassures his girlfriend that she is the only one for him and that she's beautiful to him no matter what she's wearing

Warnings: body talk, insecurities about body (specifically a pudgy tummy) and relationship/worth/value, one (1) intrusive thought, concept of a safety dress that one feels comfortable in, a mention that reader might be comparing her body to the bodies of others, uh dresses? little rusty writing so early seasons Spencer may be a little OOC but he's a sweetie

-

You tugged at the dress that you wore. It didn’t fit right. That’s all you could see, all you could feel. It didn’t look right either. No amount of tugging would crease out the pudge that was your tummy. You sigh and start looking for your safety dress that you were sure would still fit fine (or at least it might be looser).

You didn’t even hear Spencer come into your bedroom. He already had his suit and tie on, looking as uncomfortable as you felt. His gaze flits over your body before refocusing on the back of your head.

Neither one of you was particularly excited about this FBI Gala but the presence of every member of the BAU was mandatory. And being Spencer’s girlfriend, naturally he’d asked you to be his date so he could at least have his comfort with him at this stuffy event.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Looking for something…dear?” He was still trying out terms of endearment for you, determined to find a set of ones that felt right. Dear felt very formal and safe. He never imagined himself being able to call you "babygirl".

You sigh and look back at him. “This one dress.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting for a second as his mind processes that information and his response. “What’s wrong with the one you have on?”

It was a simple question. So why did it make you wanna shrink? You pause for a long time. Too long, because he speaks up again.

“Have I said something wrong?” He had taken to asking this question when you paused for a long time. He knew you were probably just trying to articulate your thoughts but he very much was afraid of offending you. He wasn’t used to relationships. Professional relationships were difficult enough for him to navigate on some level so a personal, romantic relationship was still mostly uncharted territory where he’d rather not veer into choppy waters.

“No…I just…wanna try a different dress on.”

“That one’s fine.” He still doesn’t understand why you need another dress when you’d already put one on.

Fine. The word echoed in your mind. You knew he hadn’t meant it condescendingly. You knew he was being honest. And you loved him but you yearned for a moment when a man saw you in a dress and his brain just went “gorgeous”. Spencer, of course, hadn't gotten a good enough reign on the sails just yet to be there in the relationship. And you recognized this and loved his genuine awkward charm. But you still wished he wasn’t so…clinically honest sometimes. Because it didn't always hit as sweet.

“It’s just one other dress.”

He switches gears. “Can I help you look?”

“I swear it was in here.”

“If you just-”

If I were just thinner, I wouldn’t need my safety dress. Fuck off intrusive thought!

You huff louder than necessary (cutting Spencer off) and you stop searching.

“Is something wrong?” Spencer is getting more concerned now. He takes a step towards you. He was pleased that he could fairly easily switch to “my person’s sad, must fix” mode. He thought he’d blunder more when it came to that particular aspect of a romantic relationship.

You don’t answer right away. He assumes the answer is "yes" but has also learned not to say that he assumes that.

“Can you tell me if something is? Please?” His voice softens like it does sometimes and he looks at you with those stupid hazel puppy dog eyes.

You look at him and know instantly that he sincerely just wants to know what’s up with you. You’d already had a very deep conversation about honesty in the relationship so you know it doesn’t do either of you any good to maintain that you’re fine.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being…” you trail off.

“Hey, I won’t think you’re anything you’re afraid of, ok? I promise.”

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say.”

“You’re not "stupid". You’re not a "child". You’re not "too sensitive". I promise what you feel is valid. And I intend to treat it as such.”

You knew he was right. You knew he’d never make fun of you.

“I don’t like this dress on my body.” That was both harder and easier to say than you thought it would be.

He processes for a second. And then asks the simple question: “why not?” which has a simple answer…right?

Your first instinct is to say “because I look fat in it” but you stop yourself from saying that because you think you sound “like a complaining woman”. Your next thought is that Spencer’s first thought will not be: “Jesus, I don’t wanna hear anymore.”.

“I don’t like how my stomach looks.” You rephrase and clarify.

He looks down. That’s simply his first instinct. Your stomach looks like it’s looked like the entire time he’s known you (a year or so at this point). He doesn’t want to keep asking the same question over and over again. But he knows “you look fine” isn’t generally accepted by women as an answer so he knows that won’t fix the problem.

“What’s different about it?” He asks instead.

This gives you pause. “N-Nothing…” you’re forced to answer/admit.

“Does it not fit right? Does it feel too tight?” Your comfort. That’s what he’s concerned about. You were so afraid he’d just say “yeah? You’re fat.” even if he didn’t see it as a bad thing, that still might be triggering to hear. But his line of thinking is so far from that.

“It just…shows too much,”

“But it’s covering…” he pauses, knowing that line of thinking isn’t correct. “you don’t like how you look..” he reaches a hand out to almost touch your stomach but he stops short of it. “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with the dress.”

He hated unsolved mysteries (the mysteries themselves, he had nothing against Robert Stack personally) and he hated not having things figured out. He hated being confused but trying to navigate a relationship often left him feeling like he was up a creek without an oar.

You cup your stomach, hoping he’ll understand. He does not.

“That’s your stomach…”

“The dress is too small.” You try to clarify for him.

“Is it? Is it supposed to fit so…snuggly?”

“Who knows? I just know I’d feel better in my safety dress.”

“Safety dress?” He questions.

You freeze. You’d never told him about it.

“What’s that?” He asks, inquisitive as ever.

“It’s uh…a dress I look…and feel good in.”

“As opposed to…the dress you have on now?”

You avert your gaze and nod. He isn’t the type to grab chins and force people to look at them so he doesn’t do that.

“Sweetie? Can you look at me? Please?” He instead requested softly. Sweetie made sense because you were so sweet.

You meet his gaze and it’s as soft and warm as ever.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll help you find your safety dress but I need you to know that you look beautiful as you are now.” He swapped fine with beautiful because he felt the emphasis was necessary.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m not. I could walk out that door right now with you and be happy to have you at my side. You don’t need to be wearing any particular dress. I don’t care about the dress, I care about the person wearing it.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. We both know we’d both rather be in comfortable clothes watching Star Trek tonight than going to this…Gala. I wouldn’t have asked you to suffer it with me but…I really want you there with me. It’s so many people and so much…pressure.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“You’d be in fuzzy pj pants right now if it weren’t for me.”

“Hey, no. It’s not your fault.”

“I kind of feel like it is. I don’t want you to go if you’re just gonna be uncomfortable all night.”

He starts to search for the dress, very determined to help you be comfortable.

“Could you describe the dress to me?”

“I-It’s uh…black…short sleeves, it’s got a satin body with a ruffle on the end and lace details over that.”

He looks back at you quizzically. “That’s your safety dress?”

“It doesn’t look like what you’re imagining.” You joke lightly.

“How do you know what I’m imagining?”

“Some sexy little number?”

“Some…cute little number…” He clarifies.

“There! Don’t move your hand! That’s it!” You point.

Spencer pulls the dress out. It’s black. It’s got short sleeves. It’s got lace details all over and the “body” or main part under the lace is black satin or silk. It’s knee length.

“Do you feel more comfortable in this dress?” He asked as he passed it to you.

“We’ll see.” You struggle to unzip the dress you currently had on. “Help? Please?”

He puts the dress on the bed. He comes up behind you to unzip the dress. You shimmy out of the dress. It falls to pool around your ankles. You pop the safety dress over your head. 

You look at yourself in the mirror. You sigh. "No...it's too short...and it's not fancy enough..."

Spencer is just looking at you. He isn't saying anything. He's just admiring how you look in the dress.

"What do you think?" You ask Spencer as you run your hand over your stomach in the dress.

Spencer doesn't immediately respond. He's distracted by the skin that's showing.

"Spencer?"

"Hmm?" He meets your gaze.

"I asked you a question."

"Oh...sorry." He smiles, shaking his head. "What was your question?"

"Do you think this dress is appropriate for the Gala? Or should I find something longer?"

"Well I uh..." He trails off, not really knowing what is and wasn't Gala appropriate (he hadn't been informed and assumed you'd know so he hadn't asked).

"Oh! Wait! I know...I have this longer green dress..."

You look through your closet again to find it. Spencer distracts himself from checking you out while your back is turned.

"I found it!" You proclaim. "Size 10, ok...should be ok..."

"Size 10 is fine." Spencer hears himself say.

"Wish it were a 12."

"Hey...don't say that. Try it on. I bet you look just as pretty. Because...you always look pretty."

You smile before you change dresses. Spencer respectfully averts his gaze so he isn't checking you out in your underwear. But he looks back when you're situating the green dress out.

"Wow...definitely more...Gala. I especially like the um...outer layer? Is that what it's called?"

"I wouldn't kn-"

"Overlay!" He interrupts. "Sorry." He says sheepishly.

"That's a good word for it." You smile.

"It's really pretty. Y-You're...really pretty. The dress is pretty on you. You look pretty in the dress." He blushes slightly like he's embarrassed he seemingly couldn't settle on what to say, so he'd just said every variation he could think of (because it was all true).

"You really don't have to say all that, you know."

"Why not? Why can't I? Why shouldn't I?" He was genuinely curious as to why he couldn't compliment his girlfriend. That's what a boyfriend did, wasn't it?

"You can just say I look nice."

"But what if I feel more and I want to articulate that to you?" It was a simple question.

And it makes you pause, because you’d never before considered that he might want to wax poetic about your beauty.

"I'm not lying to you." He reassures.

"I-I know..." You nod.

"Do you?" He queries, but not in a condescending way. "Do you truly understand that I'm not just saying nice things to make you feel good? Do you comprehend that what I tell you is truly how I feel?"

"I guess I'm just not used to receiving compliments."

"Not used to receiving them or unwilling to accept the genuine ones as being genuine?" Because there was a distinction.

"Th-The latter, I guess." You say softly, averting your gaze to the floor.

"Can you look at me please?" He requests softly.

You look into his hazel eyes and see nothing but genuine admiration and affection for you.

"Do you believe that I love you?"

"Yes." You hesitate for only a second.

"That's good." He doesn’t mention the hesitation. “And would you believe me if I told you that I believe that you look beautiful in any dress you put on?”

“Yes. I believe that you believe that.”

“What do I have to do to make you believe that?” He asks softly, genuinely.

“I-I don’t know…”

He sighs. He steps closer to you. “You have looked beautiful in all three dresses I’ve seen you in.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be on my arm and look pretty.”

You share a look. That sounded weird coming out of his mouth to the both of you. You share a smile.

“Arm candy.” He muses. “That doesn’t do justice to all that you are to me.”

"It doesn't?"

"Not even close."

"What do I mean to you?"

"So much. I could have a million years and I still would not be able to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, or to describe what you mean to me."

"What am I to you?"

"I truly believe you are my person. I walk into a room you're already in and nothing else matters. All I see is you. And you are...beautiful to me. Does that help explain why it doesn't matter what dress you wear or no matter how many other women are around you, I only focus on you? No one compares to you. I enjoy your company. You enjoy mine. Being with you just...feels so easy and effortless. From the minute we met, you were just...easy. You're easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to touch. I had never warmed so fast to a person. And you know what it was that hooked me?"

"What?" You manage to ask after being awestruck but his words.

"Not your body, well, nothing below your face. It was your eyes, your smile. So...kind and sweet..."

"Spencer..." You say softly, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

"You're my person, my perfect puzzle piece."

You hug him and he hugs you right back, adoring the way your body fit against his. His arms wrap around you as he holds you to him, his chin tucking in on your shoulder.

"I love you." He whispers softly.

"I love you too." You say back.

"We should go. We're gonna be late." He goes to pull away from you.

"Can you hold me for just another minute? Please?"

"We can be late. Five minutes."

"Thank you."

He buries his face in your neck, smelling your hair.

"You smell like home."

[rayhalloffame]

Reblogged a post about how there are not enough fics of Patrick crying over reader and I couldn’t agree more. Here’s a college!patrick au, considering making a part 2 but you all let me know!

…………

It takes a lot for Patrick to reach the point of tears but when they do prick his eyes you’re stunned. He’s stood across the room from you, looking as if his heart has just been ripped from his chest. Which is odd considering the shouting match you’d just finished.

He’d shown up to your college apartment unannounced following your commitment to ignoring his texts. When you see him through the peephole you’re considering pretending no one is home, but you know he would make a scene and your neighbors would complain in the morning. Once unlocked, he pushes through your front door in seconds, storming in and whipping around to face you just as the door shuts behind you.

“What the fuck is your problem,” he demands, getting in your face. You roll your eyes and side step him to walk toward your living room. You can hear him approaching before you feel his hand grasp your wrist and wheel you around to face him.

“Pat, I’m not doing this.” You remove your arm from his grip and take a few steps backwards. The atmosphere is icy but he’s clearly got fire running through him, you can see it in the way he clenches his fists at his side. You cross your arms firmly over your chest. “I told you what I wanted. It’s not what you want. So that’s that.” Despite your assured tone your heart races against your ribs.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he insists, sounding exasperated. His hand combs roughly through his hair then slides down his face. “I can’t. But I want you. We can still have this.”

Your “no” is immediate. You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be one of your girls, Patrick. I want to be your girl. You can’t fuck me and hold me after, and then go make out with some sorority chick the same weekend. I don’t deserve that.” Your voice is rising octaves and you swallow hard in efforts to keep your temper at bay.

He cracks a smile for the first time. “But the sex is really good, isn’t it?”

You glare at him. “Fuck you. Seriously.” You brush past him to go open your front door with intentions on kicking him out.

Your hand is reaching to turn the knob when he shouts at your back, “What do you want from me, huh?” He’s angry again. You turn back to face him. “A white picket fence? Two dogs and three kids?” His head tilts to the side mockingly. You seethe from where you stand. “We’re so young! Why can’t you just have a good time?”

“Because I want more!” You gesticulate fiercely with your hands. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Patrick. I’m just tired of feeling like someone you couldn’t give two shits about!” You’re flushed. Your announcement makes the air go dead.

And that’s how you ended up here, with what was at first a tick of his jaw, an extra bat of his eyelashes, but quickly turned into his face crumpling devastatingly. You suddenly want to take it all back, tell him that he can have you however he wants. But you can’t.

You do take a few cautious steps towards him, sighing his name. He hangs his head, brings his hands up to shield his face from view. He doesn’t retaliate when you bring your hands up to grasp his wrists, smoothing down the length of his forearms.

And then he sobs. It comes deep from his chest and you furrow your brow in concern. You’ve never even seen his eyes water in the year you’ve known him, so this is uncharted territory. You call his name again, gently, give his arms a slight tug to reveal his face. His cheeks are wet and blotchy already.

You pull him to the couch with you, because despite everything, you hold a big space in your heart for Patrick. You sit sideways against the arm to face him, one leg tucked under you. He’s apologizing for anything and everything, pleading with you but you’re not sure what for.

You wipe his face with the palm of your hand. “It’s okay,” you insist. He’s barely looking at you, sniffling pathetically. You straighten your leg against the back of the couch to make space for him between your thighs, pulling at his shoulder so he falls to your chest. He clutches at your body, his own wracking with the force of his cries. Neither of you says a word for a long time. You scratch your fingers through his hair and down his neck, press kisses to the crown of his head until he’s ready.

“You’ll find someone better,” is what he says when he breaks the silence. You freeze. He continues. “You think you want me now, but you’ll find someone better. You deserve to.” He looks up at you with puffy eyes and a red nose. “But you’re my best girl. I can’t have you and lose you.”

Your heart breaks. He is so charming and so full of himself that the insecurity is easy to miss. This is your Patrick, who challenges you to be the best version of yourself, takes care of you when you’ve had too much to drink, wipes your tears after you force him to watch a romcom, fucks you better than anyone ever has.

“You’re so stupid,” you say. “You’re who I want. I don’t know why you can’t see how great you are.” You lean down to press a kiss between his eyes. You rub your thumb back and forth at the nape of his neck. His migration up your body happens quickly, and so does the kiss he presses to your mouth. It’s easy enough for him to get his tongue involved, his big hand holding you close by the back of your neck.

You break the contact before things get carried away, remind him that your feelings on the situation haven’t changed. If he doesn’t want to close things off then you can’t move forward. “Only you,” he agrees, head nodding. He repeats it over and over and over while he drags his lips across your jaw until he meets your mouth again in a sloppy kiss. You’re about the have the best makeup sex of your life, you can already tell.

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- lost signal.

summary: welt finds himself unable to contact you after your departure for amphoreus. (gn!reader x welt yang; astral express found family)

tags: 1.2k words, established relationship, fake texts, astral express family, fluff and longing, spoilers for 3.0's main quest!

“You’re worried.”

Even Himeko’s voice does little to turn his head from the window, watching as the Parlor Car trails off and away through the stars towards Amphoreus. Out of sight, out of Welt’s reach – he was never good at stepping back and letting things be. He has to keep himself from pressing his hand to the glass, from tracing his finger along each and every fleck of light you pass, as if you could somehow feel him there with you.

“Am I that obvious?” Welt asks, adjusting his glasses. He feels Himeko’s dress brush over his shoes, and still he cannot bring himself to tear his gaze away for even a second; even as the car disappears from view as it enters into Amphoreus’s orbit.

“I’m sure everything will go smoothly. You know how capable they all are.” Himeko reassures. 

Welt lets out a weary sigh. Of course knows that. You, Stelle, and Dan Heng made a formidable team. Still, the worry persists, gnawing like moths at an old dressing gown. 

“You are correct.” Welt starts, sighing again as his eyes flick to her momentarily, before looking back out the window. The stillness in the Express is disquieting; it seemed less of a home without all the noise. “But still, I worry anyways.”

Himeko gives him a knowing smile. “I’m sure you’ll hear from them soon.” She says, turning to walk back towards the door. “In the meantime, would you help me make dinner for March? She still isn’t feeling well.”

Welt softens at that, finally forcing himself to look away. He assures himself that you all would be okay, and hopes that is enough. “Of course.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Welt has done the math over and over again. He knows this planet is uncharted, but they knew the distance to the landing site, knew how strong the planet’s gravitational pull was... If things went perfectly, you all should have docked three hours ago. 

You had promised that you’d text him once you successfully made it planet-side. He rests on one of the couches in the main car, one hand resting on his cane, the other holding his phone. 

Perhaps he’s acting like a besotted old man… and a hovering parent to Stelle and Dan Heng. But still, he finds his hands itching to type out a message to check in. And so, he does:

He tries to rationalize the response (or, lack thereof) before the tide of worry can wash over him once again. It wouldn’t be surprising if it were just Stelle’s phone that had no connection – but you and Dan Heng? Neither of you would let that happen, especially at the beginning of an Expedition.

Perhaps signal didn’t reach Amphoreus. It would be the most logical answer – it was out of sight to all but the Memokeepers. Besides that, he can't help but think it's possible that you all could’ve crash landed...

Welt stands, and goes to wake Sunday.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You lean out the balcony of the private baths, your hand stretching upwards to the sky, phone in hand, as if you could reach up far enough to hand the messages to Welt. 

“That’s not how it works.” Dan Heng says, one hand behind his head as he relaxes in one of the lounge chairs. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, a quarter of his attention diverted from his book to make sure you don’t lose your balance and fall.

You hate that he’s right. This is all an exercise in futility, but still, it doesn't hurt to try. You hop up on the railing, carefully sitting yourself on the ledge of the balcony, stretching just a few more inches forward. Dan Heng pays a bit more attention to you.

“Dan Heng’s right.” Stelle interjects, her long silvery hair gliding on the surface of the water in the bath, sprawled out as if she had not a care in the world. “You need much longer arms.”

You huff, looking at the ‘No Signal’ message that hasn’t budged from the top of your phone’s screen since you crash landed in Amphoreus. You wish there was something you could do to reassure Welt that you would all be okay.

You imagine he’ll have a few more grey hairs when you see him next.

“You should get down from there.” Comes Dan Heng’s voice, closing the book he was skimming through. “I would prefer not to have to tell Mr. Yang that you fell to your death.”

You hear Stelle snicker, and it’s then you hop down off the railing, realizing you are supposed to be the mature one here. You turn your phone off, then go to sit on one of the empty lounge chairs, listening to the water flow as it pours into the bath. 

Welt would like it here, you think. After everything he’s done for you, for you all, he deserves a nice, warm bath. Perhaps once you've restored contact with the Express, you could convince him to relax, if for a little while.

You let that thought carry you into a fitful sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

In your absence, Welt spends the days with Sunday, exhausting their combined contacts to try and regain communication with you all. Each day seems to drag on, and yet he never finds enough hours to do all that he needs to do to ensure your safety. 

He should’ve just joined the Expedition… Welt hated, more than anything, not knowing; questions with too many variables to act on all at once. Especially when it involved those he cared about. 

Some of your things had been left in his room; he doesn’t have the heart to move them. A half-empty cup of tea that had long gone cold, the shape of your lips outlined in chapstick around the rim. The hotel key from your room in Penacony, sandwiched between one of his books you were borrowing; a makeshift bookmark that would no doubt end up damaging the binding. A picture of you, him, and Himeko taken in the jazz bar at the Reverie. Your hand is slung around their shoulders, and you’re winking at the camera, only slightly tipsy. The memory makes him warm with longing.

He sends another few texts your way, knowing they will not reach you. Still, it is nice to think of what he might say to you if he could.

At night, he sits in March’s room, watching to make sure her condition doesn’t worsen. The cold of the six-phased ice bites even through his overcoat.

Welt folds his hands in his lap, closing his eyes for a momentary rest. Come tomorrow they would go to the Space Station to search for answers; but for now, he would be present for March. It was all he could do.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Fumble on the Play

Prompt Day 12: Stargazing | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Stargazing, A Wooing Was Attempted, Baby Steps, Getting on the Same Page

"It's so cold," Eddie whines, and Steve throws the blanket towards him. It bounces off his chest and down into the snow.

"Oooh, fumble on the play," Steve crows, and Eddie looks less than thrilled. Steve rolls his eyes, "Just go along with it. Look around! Doesn't it feel like there are just more stars in the sky in the winter? Yes, it does. So, suck it up buttercup," Steve stresses, and Eddie begrudgingly picks up the fallen blanket.

And then he shakes it out, probably more violently than he really needs to.

Steve gives him the look, the one he's practiced on the kids, because he finds that it translates to Eddie pretty goddamn well more often than not.

"It's the cold air," Eddie mutters, being a grouchy ass.

"What?" Steve asks.

"It's the cold air. Makes the chance of haziness in the sky less likely, because there's less moisture in the air. So. Yes. It's the cold air that's letting you see all those stars."

"You're making that up," Steve says.

"Nope. It's science. Read it in Newsweek."

"You read Newsweek?" Steve questions, unsure if he should believe this. His default is no, no he should not. Eddie likes to make shit up for fun, just to see how Steve reacts.

This feels like that.

"Yes, Harrington. I can read," Eddie says, and he doesn't seem like he's pulling Steve's leg. He looks annoyed.

"Oh," Steve says, and shifts his weight to his other foot. "That's cool."

"Sure, cool. Just like the night air out here in the middle of nowhere," Eddie snaps, and Steve decides this was a mistake. A big one. Eddie's hating this. 

Hating being in the cold, hating being stuck with Steve.

Steve slumps his shoulders, defeated, "We can go."

"We're already out here, Harrington, might as well stay and freeze our balls off," Eddie grumbles.

"Not if you're hating it."

"I just don't get why you drug me out here. Isn't there some girl you could have conned into freezing her tits off instead?"

Steve turns, and tries to yank the blanket out of Eddie's hands, but Eddie has suddenly developed Kung Fu Grip, like he's a goddamn G.I. Joe. 

"What the hell, Harrington?" Eddie says, yanking back. 

"Let's just go, this was stupid!" Steve yells, and Eddie's eyebrows disappear, shooting up beneath his bangs.

"Steve," Eddie says, softer this time, using his first name, which makes this worse. He didn't even know he could be this fucking embarrassed. Robin says he has no shame. Clearly, he does. This was a big swing and a miss.

"I just want to go home. It's cold. I'm tired. You hate this. Just. Let go of the blanket," Steve says, tugging more gently this time, and Eddie does relent and lets it fall from his grasp. 

Steve throws the blanket into the trunk of his car, and slams it closed.

Eddie is standing there with his head tilted towards the sky. Steve watches him.

"It is pretty out here. Cold, but pretty," Eddie says, and Steve nods. It is. That's why he brought him here in the first goddamn place. Skull Rock is fucking tainted. If Eddie thinks this was a dumb idea, he'd have really been annoyed by that.

Remember when you had to run for your life and you hid here? Well, wanna makeout here now?

No way.

Steve shouldn't have brought him anywhere at all with ulterior motives. He absolutely misjudged Eddie's interest in doing this with him at all, "It's pretty. C'mon. Let's get back to town."

It's harder than it is with a girl. Uncharted waters. He really thought Eddie was sending signals, but apparently Steve's just an idiot and read into nothing. 

Eddie climbs in the passenger seat, and Steve slides across the now cold leather, putting the key in the ignition. He turns it over, and thinks this almost over, thank god.

It's not, apparently.

"Was this a date?" Eddie asks, voice going high and pointed.

"No!" Steve snaps, kneejerk, and mortified that he bungled this so bad that Eddie had to even fucking ask.

"Oh. Okay," Eddie answers, seemingly crestfallen instead of relieved. Steve sighs. It makes no fucking sense. 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. He can't get a read on Eddie, never has been able to, not really.

"I wasn't implying anything," Eddie says, too quietly. "About you. Or me." 

Oh. 

Oh. 

"Of course," Steve says, "But if you were. That'd be okay."

Eddie laughs, "Not bloody likely." 

Steve wants to be offended. Wants to tell Eddie he's cool. That he loves Robin, and all that she is. But he can't. 

"It's stupid. I'm stupid, whatever this was, or wasn't."

"Steve." 

"It was," Steve admits. 

Eddie reaches over and squeezes Steve's knee, "You're not stupid. This wasn't stupid, either. I just didn't connect the dots until it was too late."

"Sorry," Steve says. 

"Don't be sorry," Eddie says, "Just. Tell me what you're thinking."

Steve thumps his head back against the headrest, "I'm thinking that I'm a fool."

"Harrington."

"I like you. But I don't really know how to do anything with that. Obviously."

Eddie slides his hand up to Steve's arm, "Same book now, same page, even."

And Steve looks over at him, wondering if maybe tonight isn't a total lost cause? Maybe he can field his own rebound and lay it up. Second time's the charm. A do-over.

"I'm thinking it's not too late," Steve says at the same time over Eddie asking:

"Wanna look at some stars?" 

Steve nods, expecting Eddie to get back out of the car, but instead he leans over the console, elbow landing on Steve's knee, motioning for Steve to look out the window and upwards.

Steve does.

The sky is full of stars.

He doesn't know where to put his hands, so he squeezes Eddie's shoulder through his coat, as they stargaze from the warmth of the car.

Steve looks at the stars, then at Eddie.

Both, equally beautiful.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🌟

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 3- Crossed A Few Lines | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.7k

Your heart raced at his reply. You were both mildly beating around the bush, but there was no denying the pull between you. A shiver ran down your spine, your skin tingling with anticipation. You smiled to yourself, your fingers already flying across the keyboard in response. You knew you were pushing boundaries, stepping into uncharted territory, but a part of you was thrilled by it. You had always wanted to see how far you could go with Trent, and now you were finding out.

The seconds that passed after you sent the message felt like hours. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, loud and fast, and your entire body was alight with anticipation. You didn’t know what would happen next, but you were ready to find out, whatever it might be. He was sitting downstairs in the cinema room with your brother and the boys, trying to keep it together. But after reading that text, there was no staying focused on the movie. He excused himself, saying he wanted a glass of water, but instead, he found himself sneaking upstairs, toward your room. His mind was racing, his pulse thumping in his ears. You heard a soft footstep outside your door and your breath caught in your throat. He knocked lightly but pushed the door open before you had a chance to respond.  The doorknob turned slowly and your body tensed with anticipation. Trent stepped into the room, a figure in the dim light, your eyes adjusting to you two alone in your bedroom, taking in his athletic frame and handsome face. This wasn't the first time he'd been in your room, but it was the first time he'd seen you like this-laid out on your bed, bralette barely holding you in. laying there ready for him. His breath caught in his throat. 

"What you doing sending me pictures like that?" Trent's voice was low, but you couldn't read whether he was mad or something else entirely. You shifted slightly, suddenly a bit nervous.

"You didn't have to come up," you said, trying to gauge his reaction. Was he angry? Your heart pounded in your chest, waiting for his next move.

"That's not what I said," he replied, stepping closer, eyes darkening. "I'm down there with your brother and our mates, trying not to think about your tits." His voice was rough, and his eyes were lit with something you hadn't seen before. You smirked, knowing you had him. 

"Do you like them?" you asked coyly, cupping them and pulling your bralette down a little lower to reveal just about everything you could without being completely exposed. You couldn’t risk that, what if he rejected you again. Trent chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're fucking dangerous. Where did this confidence come from?" He asked you with a dangerously handsome smile. You sat up slightly, your smirk deepening. 

"I've always been like this." You cooed seductively but you couldn’t hold back a slight giggle. 

"Nah," he said, stepping even closer. "You've never moved like this before."

"I'd never kissed you before," you pointed out.

"That good, huh?" he teased, clearly loving this back-and-forth. You tilted your head, your eyes locked with his.

"I could ask you the same thing. You're here, aren't you?" Trent laughed softly, the tension between you now thick enough to cut with a knife. He knew the moment he walked into that room, there was no turning back. You were desperate to feel his touch. He padded across the room and climbed onto your bed, and it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. His movements were confident and purposeful. Trent was in your bed! You felt like you were about to black out.  

“C’mere.” He commanded you and you shifted, reaching your arm out towards him grabbing the back of his neck as he positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel the hardness of his cock against your thigh. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss, and you moaned into his mouth, your hands gripping his hair as you pulled him closer. Trent's kiss was demanding, possessive, and you loved the way he took control. His tongue teased yours. It was like you could taste the sweetness of the moment you’d longed for. His hands roamed your body, caressing your boobs, your stomach, and thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of your bralette, you arched your back, offering yourself to him. Breaking the kiss, Trent trailed his lips along your jaw and down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He nibbled on your ear, whispering how much he wanted you, and you moaned in response, your body throbbing with need. You felt his hand slip between your thighs, cupping your heat, and you spread your legs instinctively, granting him better access. His fingers teased your clit through your panties, and you bucked your hips, desperate for more.

“You like when I touch you, baby?' he murmured, his voice husky and deep. You’d dreamed of this moment for ages and it was proving to feel better than anything you could’ve imagined. 

'Y-yes,' you panted, your eyes screwed shut as you focused on the sensations flooding your body. Trent kissed his way back up to your mouth, silencing your moans with another passionate kiss. His hand moved to unclasp your bralette, the suddenness of the fabric falling off you causing you to gasp. Trent had seen you in bikinis, he’d see you wear tank tops with no bra but this… This was a dream come true. Your tits on full display just for him. He paused, his thumb brushing gently over your peaked nipple, and you whimpered, wanting him to take more. Then, with a swift movement, Trent took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue, while his hand squeezed and massaged the other. You cried out, slapping your hand over your mouth to quiet your pleasure, your head throwing back as pleasure spiked through you. You could feel his teeth slight nip the skin, sucking purposefully.  He left a hickey on your boob, marking you as his.

“That's the only type of bruise you should be getting from a man… from anyone,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “Got it?” You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your body tingling with a mixture of pleasure and a sense of protection and ownership. Then, without warning, Trent rolled off the bed. You opened your eyes, your body still buzzing, and watched as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand over his slightly messed up hair.

“I gotta get back downstairs, pretty girl”' he said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he looked at your half  naked, satisfied form. 

“Wait… where are you going?!” You yelped as your chest heaved and your pussy throbbed with need.  Just as the intensity was rising, Trent suddenly pulled back. You could see his breathing was just as heavy, his eyes dark with desire. The smug smile still there, one that made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flip with frustration. "Trent, what—" you began, but he silenced you with a soft, almost teasing kiss on the forehead, but not without his thumb brushing over the blooming bruising forming from his lips.

"I really should have to go," he said, his voice low and rough, still tinged with the heat of the moment. "They’re going to wonder where I disappeared to." His grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes, as if he was well aware of the effect he was having on you. You blinked, completely taken aback. 

"You’re leaving? Now? I… what?" you asked, your voice incredulous. You could hardly believe what you were hearing. You could hardly believe what just happened. You had just been on the edge of something incredible, something you’d been craving for so long, and now he was pulling away? Trent nodded, clearly enjoying the power he held in this moment. He stood as if he’d just won some secret game, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You watched him, your body still tingling with the remnants of the heated encounter, a mixture of shock and frustration bubbling up inside you. "You’re really just going to leave?" you asked again, your voice laced with disbelief. Trent leaned down, his lips teasingly close to yours, hiis thumb moving to trace your cheek. 

"For now," he murmured, his lips ghosting yours, his tone promising more. "But trust me, Y/N, I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot." And with that, he turned and slipped out of your room, leaving you lying there, breathless and bewildered. Leaving you alone, nothing more than kisses and a love bite darkening to remember him by. Your hand reached up to touch the mark he'd left on your boob, a reminder of the intense passion that had just played out. A satisfied smile played on your lips as you snuggled into the bed, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. The door clicked shut softly behind him, and you could hear his footsteps receding down the hallway, back toward the laughter and chatter of his friends and your brother downstairs. You stared at the closed door for a moment, your mind racing. You couldn’t believe he’d just walked away, right when things had started to get good. A mix of frustration and longing coursed through you, making you roll over in bed with a groan. You buried your face in your pillow, feeling the heat still lingering on your skin where his hands had been.

"Ugh, Trent," you muttered, half-exasperated, half-amused into the now empty room. He had left you wanting more, and he knew it. You couldn’t decide whether to be angry or impressed by his restraint—or maybe his nerve. But one thing was certain: he’d lit a fire within you, and you knew he was right this was far from over. As you got ready for sleep, you wondered what the morning would bring and whether Trent would be back for more. The possibilities were endless, and the anticipation was already building for another encounter. You need to get yourself off after that because you weren’t sure you’d ever been so horny or wet in your life and he only kissed you. You guessed being left needy was better than being left without him at all. 

And so the floodgates had finally opened. Things were much better between you two than they were after the rejected kiss at the club which was great except now the uncertainty and the possibility of when and if he’d ever kiss you again loomed. The air was thick all the time. So what now?  After that stolen moment in your bedroom, you couldn’t stop thinking about Trent. Every glance, every word shared between you was now charged with a new electricity. So when the next movie night rolled around, you found yourself eagerly anticipating Trent's arrival. The minute he walked in, the air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension, a shared secret that only the two of you understood. As everyone settled in for the film, Trent offered to share his blanket with you, a casual smile on his lips. Without a second thought, you slipped under it, your body naturally leaning into his. The dark cinema room felt cozy and intimate, the movie playing softly in the background. You nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body, his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you in tight.  It was so dark in the room no one could see just how close you’d gotten. You were tucked away in the back of the room, hiding from the other boys and hiding from how much you were excited by this.  The room buzzed with murmured conversations and laughter, the movie flickering on the big screen. But to you, it was all background noise. You and Trent were tangled up together under the blanket, caught in a kind of intimacy you hadn't allowed yourself to imagine, even with all the flirtation and stolen glances. You’d always sat together but this? This was new. As you drew your knee closer to him, his fingers dug slightly into your thigh, grounding you with a touch that sent your heart racing.

"Can you just-" he grumbled, gently grabbing your leg and pulling it over him fully, letting you feel the firmness of his thigh under yours. "Your knee was digging into me." He smirked, his voice hush. 

"Sorry," you laughed, but the apology didn't feel genuine. You wanted to be close, closer than you had been, closer than maybe you should’ve been. "Are you sure this is... okay?" you asked, glancing up at him, your voice softer than you meant it to be. His gaze held yours, intense but teasing. 

"Y/N, you're good," he murmured, his fingers squeezing your thigh as if to reassure you— and then pulling you even closer. "Just come here, yeah? And shh." That small smile, that bit of warmth in his eyes, it gave you all the permission you needed. You leaned into him fully, your body curling up next to his as he adjusted the blanket, his arm draped protectively over you, and his hand resting on your hip. His fingers grazed your skin just above the waistband of your shorts, making your pulse thrum louder than the movie. You couldn't hide your smile, feeling bold and bashful all at once. Then, without really meaning to, you moved your hand over his abs, tracing the outline of muscles under his shirt. It felt natural, like you'd done it a hundred times, though the thrill in your chest reminded you that you hadn't. Trent let out a quiet laugh, glancing down at you. Absentmindedly you let it drift a little too low for Trent to be able to manage.

"You’re not watching. I told you you’d like this one.” he smiled again, one brow arched with that familiar, teasing glint in his eye. He picked up your hand and moved it up a little bit. You sheepishly let your eyes shut, feeling awkward that your hand was unintentionally so close to somewhere you were dying to explore but knew that this was definitely not the place for.

"I’m tired," you shrugged lazily trying to move away from the tension,  giving a little smile, your voice soft as your hand remained on him just marginally less suggestive. It was almost like you were in two conversations. One spoken, one physical. 

“I'll fill you in, alright?" He pulled you even closer, his voice low as he murmured, There was something in his tone that made your heart skip—a promise in the words that went beyond explaining a plotline. His hand moved lower on your hip, fingers dipping under the waistband of your shorts just slightly, warm and firm against your skin. It felt like the start of something, an unspoken acknowledgment of what had been building between you.

"Thank you." Your voice dropped to a whisper, playful but shaky with the thrill of it all. His eyes met yours with a look that made your breath hitch. You weren’t really thanking him for the offer but rather what his hands were doing. Reassurance. He had just given you reassurance that your hands on him were okay.  He hummed, his tone rich and warm, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His hand traveled a little lower, grazing over your ass beneath the blanket, his fingers pressing into you in a way that made your whole body tense with anticipation.The energy between you was thick, charged in a way you couldn't ignore. His thumb brushed over your skin slowly, each stroke sending waves of heat through you as he molded his hand to your curves. You glanced up at him, not bothering to hide your reaction anymore. And then, without saying a word, he leaned back and guided your head to his chest, pulling you into him fully. His hand stayed possessive on your hip, his fingers lazily tracing circles, his touch both gentle and thrilling. You settled against him, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. You yawned quietly, the warmth and security of his embrace lulling you into a drowsy state as you rested against him. You felt your eyelids growing heavy, yet every brush of his hand on your skin kept you alert, the push and pull of relaxation and excitement making your head swim.

"Okay?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as his fingers drifted up your side and back down, lingering at the edge of your waistband.

"I like your hands on me," you whispered, emboldened by the warmth of his embrace and the way he was holding you like you were his to protect. Trent chuckled softly, his breath warm on the top of your head. Your lips parted to say more, but no words came out. You wanted to say something, to let him know how you felt, but his arms around you spoke for themselves. So, instead, you closed your eyes, your body melting further into him as his hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts once more, more daring this time. His fingers brushed over the curve of your ass, his touch possessive yet tender, a promise that you were the only thing on his mind.

"Shhh," he whispered, his tone teasing but comforting. "Relax"  He cooed, telling you that you didn’t need to talk, not right now. And as you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, the line between you disappeared entirely. His hand traced lazy patterns on your skin, each touch soft and lingering, leaving you breathless yet more at peace than you'd felt in ages. You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into the warmth of him, knowing that things between you had changed and would never be the same. The film ticked on as you were curled up against Trent, head resting on his chest, peacefully asleep. Noah went to grab something to drink and spotted your oh so cozy moment. He grinned, unable to help himself.

“Lads, I feel like I pulled the short straw in this friendship,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “How does Trenty end up with Y/N on top of him for a movie night?” Noah cheekily spoke, not loud, but enough for all the boys to hear, but quiet enough for you to stay asleep. Trent tried to keep a straight face, shrugging it off as the rest of the boys chuckled. Jack, however, didn’t laugh. His eyebrows furrowed, and he turned around, finally noticing the cozy scene unfolding on the couch. You’d always sat next to Trent but this… This was a proper cuddle. 

“Hey—” Trent held up his hands defensively, moving them slightly away from you, though he’d definitely been resting his hand all over you a moment ago. “Innocent, alright?” he mumbled, hoping Jack wouldn’t press too hard.

“Isn’t she in those—” another friend piped up with a smirk, catching himself just in time as he met Jack’s warning glare. You were in tiny biker shorts, and the guys clearly noticed, but Trent’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to Jack before shooting his friend a look of caution.

“Mate,” Trent muttered under his breath, the unspoken warning clear. Jack shook his head, his expression softening just slightly but not enough to let you two off the hook. 

“Embarrassing. Y/N, get the fuck up,” he said, voice half-exasperated, half-amused as he swatted toward you, though he didn’t make any real effort to wake you. Trent looked down at you for a second, his arm slyly stayed around you as if he couldn't bare to part and selfishly he didn’t want to disturb you because he didn't want you to move.

“She’s not bothering me, mate,” he replied casually. “Honest.” Jack groaned, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the movie.

“Gross. Just keep your fucking hands to yourself, bro.” he muttered, though there was an undertone of resignation, like he was used to this now knowing there was a line that hadn’t been crossed. A satisfied smirk crept onto Trent’s face, and he shifted slightly under you, settling you more comfortably against him. He glanced at Noah, daring him to say anything more. Trent tried to be nonchalant but whatever unspoken thing existed between you had come bubbling up to the surface. Jack cared too much about you to embarrass you or to wake you right now. You were his little sister but that line often blurred when it came to things like your relationship with boys. Often, he acted as a best friend, he’d listen to you rant about how bad a guy was at flirting and he’d enjoy it and then other times you’d simply wear something he didn’t like and big brother Jack would storm back. Depended on his mood, depended on what he thought of the guy involved. Jack didn’t see Trent as a threat and so he let you stayed as is. As Noah walked out of the room he got closer to Trent and you. 

“How focused are you right now trying not to get hard?” He laughed in a lower voice joking with Trent. This humor wasn’t new. Sure, did Noah push boundaries a lot, yes, he knew the time and place for it though. But Jack always was a good sport, probably better than most would be because up til now no one dared try anything with you. He knew you were objectively pretty and boys liked you. He’d be naive to think otherwise and so he took his friends' jokes light heartedly and just as that… jokes. Trent’s face got a little flushed from Noah’s teasing. 

“Mate…” he murmured with a look that said don’t push it, but Noah’s grin only grew. Jack turned back from the screen, catching the exchange. He chuckled, 

“You better not be, Trentski,” though he laughed it off, turning back to the movie, clearly not sensing anything serious. Jack had long written off the way you and Trent interacted as harmless banter. He’d seen you two sit together during movie nights before, even team up during games, and he figured it was just easy camaraderie. Like another older brother figure in his innocence. Though lately, Trent was acting far from like a brother to you. The guys finally simmered down, letting the movie carry on in silence. You shifted in your sleep, snuggling deeper into Trent, and his arm instinctively curled around you. Jack glanced over to check if you’d woken up yet but found you even more comfortably nestled into Trent’s chest. But Trent still remained coy, the arm under the blanket stroking your skin, the one out of it showing innocence. Jack shook his head, unable to hide a grin.

“Such a baby,” he teased, looking at you. Then, with a chuckle, he nudged Trent’s foot with his own. “Seriously, man, wake her up. She’s heavy, bro.” He teased using something false about you as an excuse but Trent kept his gaze on the screen, giving a casual shrug. 

“Yeah, I will after the film. She’s fine,” he replied nonchalantly, though his hand shifted protectively around you. Jack started to object, a glimmer of confusion crossing his face, but the movie pulled his attention back just as a loud crash exploded on screen. As the film’s intensity increased, Trent’s attention stayed divided—partly on the screen but mostly on you, feeling your warm weight leaning into him. The tension was undeniable, yet somehow it felt natural, like an unspoken secret only the two of you shared, hidden in plain sight. You nestled in closer, murmuring his name with a sleepy whimper, oblivious to everything around you. Your quiet murmur of ‘T’ melted into the air. Your body shifted against him naturally, instinctively, pressing into his warmth like you belonged there. Trent froze, his entire body tensing at the way your breath brushed his neck, at the gentle graze of your lips along his collarbone. His hand hovered, uncertain, before he finally placed it back down on your waist steadying you. Trent's hand moved reflexively, slipping just beneath the edge of your shirt, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist.as But the warmth of your skin, the subtle weight of you against him, sent a shiver through him he couldn't hide. At first, he thought maybe he'd imagined it-that your soft, whispered ‘T’ was just some sleepy mumble, meaningless. But then you did it again, and the way you shifted, nestling even closer, made his pulse race. Your body had moved in a slow, subtle grind, your warmth pressed against his thigh, and Trent's hand tightened instinctively, his fingers digging slightly into your hip to keep you in place. He swallowed hard, glancing around. Noah and Jack and the other boys were all engrossed in the movie, thankfully oblivious to the tension simmering under the blanket between you and Trent. He let out a silent breath of relief, but his mind was racing. Every nerve screamed at him to move, to put a little distance between you and him before he lost control. He couldn’t though, he loved this.

You had conked out like a light, comforted by his embrace but exhausted from your week. You were a heavy sleeper and right now the only thing occupying your mind was the last thing you thought before you fell asleep. Trent. You remembered the way he felt in your bedroom and now he was underneath you. Your subconscious was in overdrive. And then you murmured again, a barely audible whine, and his grip on your hip tightened just slightly, holding you close. His thoughts spun as he tried to focus on the movie, on anything other than the way you felt against him, but it was impossible. His heart pounded with the overwhelming urge to pull you fully onto his lap, to guide you through the motions you were making so innocently in your sleep. The things he wanted to whisper in your ear... ‘Just like that,’ or ‘Good girl, keep going’ -things that made him clench his jaw as he struggled to stay in control. You shifted again, pressing your warmth more firmly against his thigh, and Trent's breath hitched. He knew he was in trouble, his body responding in ways that left no doubt about how he felt. He couldn't help it, couldn't help how much he wanted this, wanted you, and the fact that you were dreaming of him only fueled the fire simmering beneath the surface. He was so fucking hard he didn’t know what to do. But he couldn't do anything, not with everyone around, he couldn’t wake you up. So instead, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment to steady his breathing. He kept his hand on your hip, holding you protectively, as if to shield you both from the rest of the world. He could feel the weight of your trust, the warmth of your skin, and as his thumb brushed your hip absentmindedly, he felt himself sinking deeper into the feeling of having you so close. Just when he thought he might regain some control, you let out another soft sound, shitting closer. The sensation sent a jolt through him, and he found himself nearly holding his breath, praying no one would notice as he gently caressed your skin, savoring the warmth of you against him. The movie played on, but for him, everything else had faded. You were all he could focus on. Finally, he forced himself to ease back, though his hand lingered on your hip. With a deep, steadying breath, he whispered just barely above a murmur, "You have no idea, do you?"

When you finally stirred from your sleep, the movie’s credits rolling softly in the background, you were met with the gentle pressure of Trent’s lips brushing your forehead. The warmth of the kiss sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a rush of exhilaration, your heart fluttering wildly. It was instinct, it just happened. It was a tender moment, more intimate than anything you’d ever shared before. The simplicity of the gesture made you want to scream and call Layla immediately to share the excitement. You blinked awake, taking in the dimly lit room and the familiar sound of soft laughter and muted conversations. Although the boys had dispersed after the film ended—two had left the house, Noah had fallen asleep, another was starting a second movie, and Jack had already gone to bed. The room was quieter now, a calm settling over the space. You turned your gaze to Trent up, who was still holding you close. His arm was wrapped securely around you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your back. You shyly smiled up at him, the playful glint in his eyes matched by your own.  You tried to act casual as you settled back into Trent, even though you were now acutely aware of every little shift, every breath, and the heat radiating between you. His hand hadn't moved from your waist, grounding you, sending a subtle but undeniable thrill through you with the gentle squeeze he'd given just before you tried to sit up.

"Comfortable?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with a kind of warmth that melted any lingering awkwardness between you. Trent chuckled, low and soft, his breath brushing over the top of your head. You bit your lip, nodding with a shy smile.

"Yeah... sorry for just falling asleep on you." You awkwardly told him feeling a bit guilty but not enough to move. 

"Don't be. I didn't mind," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly along your back. "Couldn't bring myself to wake you up, honestly. You seemed like you had a good sleep." He chirped recalling just* how comfortable you had gotten. You were unaware of how much of your hand you’d shown. Nevertheless, you leaned into him again, the warmth of his chest so inviting that it made your eyelids grow heavy. Glancing around, you could see Noah fast asleep on the other side of the room, the glow of the screen casting soft shadows. 

"Maybe I should get to my room..." you whispered, knowing it was probably the right thing to do but reluctant to move still.

"Nah," Trent's voice was barely more than a murmur as he held you in place, his hand warm and steady on your hip, "Stay here with me." It was then you became keenly aware of the pressure against your thigh, the firm presence of him, his hard length, and a spark of curiosity and excitement flared in you. You stifled a soft gasp, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment, and as you nestled closer, his grip on your waist tightened, as if he didn't want you to go anywhere. "Not gonna watch?" he teased softly, his voice carrying that familiar note of playful challenge, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. Your gaze was set completely opposite of the screen. You shook your head with a shy smile, realizing your attention was entirely elsewhere. You could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted slightly, shifting so that your hand landed just over his lap, you palmed over his bulge but you didn’t do anything more. You were testing the waters. The slight intake of his breath didn't go unnoticed, nor did the way his gaze lingered, darker, more intent than you'd ever seen before.

"Okay," you whispered, cheeks flushing as you turned toward the screen, feigning interest while your hand subtly shifted, brushing over him going a bit further. His eyes flickered down, and for a moment, he looked like he was holding his breath, his gaze smoldering as he watched your every move. You felt bold, bolder than you ever had before, and the thrill of it only intensified as he let his hand slide lower, settling on the curve of your thigh. His fingers pressed gently, almost possessively, sending a shiver up your spine as you leaned back into him, the subtle tension between you deepening with each shared glance and unspoken touch. You stayed like that for a while. Hidden by the darkness of the room and the blanket. The movie played on, but for the two of you, it was as though everything else had fallen away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the moment. Trent's breath hitched as he felt you press against him, his face buried in the crook of your neck as if grounding himself. His fingers slid around your waist, holding you close, a quiet sigh escaping him as he struggled to keep his composure. He could feel you about to speak. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes warm and teasing. 

"Should I go... or...?" you asked softly, your voice barely a whisper. Trent's lips curled into a smirk as his gaze softened. You were asking a question with only one correct answer and you prayed he knew that.

"Stay with me. Seriously. In my room tonight," he murmured, his tone inviting but playful.  It wasn’t uncommon for the boys to use one of the guest rooms to crash if it was late, but tonight, the invitation felt charged with a different kind of energy. You hesitated for a moment, the tension between you palpable. It was clear that both of you were aware of the risks, the potential complications of crossing that line. But the pull between you was undeniable. The warmth, the closeness, and the flirtatious banter were too tempting to resist. You felt a thrill go through you, the weight of what he was asking settling in.

"Okay," you whispered, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, your cheeks flushed.

"Yeah?" he asked, brushing his nose against yours as his hand skimmed up your back under your shirt. "You wanna come sleep with me?" He asked through a whisper. You nodded, the warmth in his gaze making you feel bold and nervous all at once. He grinned, his voice dropping low. "Can't be this shy, though. Not in my bed."

"I won't be," you promised, your words barely audible but carrying a weight you both felt. You glanced around the room quickly to make sure everyone was still asleep, then leaned in, letting your lips find his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but then his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into him. You melted against him as he responded, his lips warm and inviting, and the room faded away, leaving just the two of you tangled in that quiet, breathless moment.

"C’mon" he whispered against your mouth, pulling back just enough to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The two of you got up off the couch, the boundary between friendship and something more blurring as you both stood up quietly, knowing full well that the night and your relationship was about to change. He led you down the hallway, both of you trying to settle your racing hearts and keep quiet. As you and Trent quietly snuck down the dim hallway, he was right behind you, his presence warm and magnetic. You felt his hands slip around your waist, pulling you closer. 

"If you don't want this, you need to tell me now. Because once we start, I'm not going to be able to stop myself." His breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in and whispered. The gravity of his words sent a rush through you, and you knew he meant every bit of it. Your heart hammered in your chest. This was really going to happen. Finally, you slipped into the guest room. Trent shut the door behind you softly, the sound barely registering as he turned and wrapped you in his arms, pulling you into him. It was obvious both of you were caught in the shared thrill of the forbidden. You looked around the room, taking in the stillness, and then back at Trent, who was watching you, eyes filled with lust, disbelief, and excitement all rolled into one. His gaze intense as he faced you, his hands reaching out to pull you close. His hands roamed over your sides, and you leaned into his touch with a soft, unbidden moan.

"Oh my god," you whimpered, feeling his fingers explore, his touch leaving trails of warmth. A quiet, smug chuckle slipped from his lips.

"Gotta be quiet for me," he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jawline, his voice low and teasing. You exhaled a shaky breath, 

"We can't go back after this, T." You cautioned him. There was a flicker of hesitation, a weight to the words, and you looked up, the heat and the excitement dancing in your gaze.

"I don't want to go back," he said, his hands pressing firmly against your back, drawing you closer until there was no space between you. "You want this? You want me?" His voice was rough and needy, the vulnerability almost hidden under his intensity. Without another word, you closed the distance between you, your mouth capturing his in a kiss that said everything you couldn't put into words. 

“So fucking bad," you murmured against his lips. The kiss deepened, growing more intense as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him until you could feel every inch of him pressed to you. Every touch, every kiss felt like it had been building for years, and with each moment, the tension only heightened. Trent's hands roamed possessively, his touch a promise, while his lips moved with a hunger that left you breathless. In that room, with the door shut and the world outside, it was as if nothing else mattered but you and him, and the weight of everything you both had kept hidden. He pushed you up against the wall. You felt the hard plane of his chest against your soft tits, and your nipples immediately pebbled, betraying your desire. His hands were on your waist, and you could feel his breath on your neck as he nuzzled your scent. "T," you moaned, your eyes closing as you leaned back against the wall, offering yourself to him. He growled low in his throat, a sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then his mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting, marking you as his. You whimpered, your hands gripping his hair, encouraging him, wanting more.

"I've want you, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. "Want to know what you taste like, feel like, everywhere." His hands moved up your body, cupping your tits, thumbing your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Take it off," you pleaded. "Please, Trent." You actually felt like you might have a heart attack, you just were so shocked his hands were actually on you. Finally, Your heart was beating so fast. His response was to pull your shirt over your head with an ease you didn’t know possible. He stepped back to admire the view, your full boobs spilling out of your lace bra, and then he sank in front of you, taking one hard peak and then the other into his hot mouth. You cried out, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him to you as he sucked and nipped, his hands squeezing and kneading your soft flesh. You could feel your pussy getting wet, could feel the juices running down your thigh, and you knew he could smell your arousal.

“Shhh, baby," he said, looking up at you with dark, heated eyes. "Gotta be quiet if you want me to keep going.” He cooed gently. He was so in control and you were so… not.  You nodded but then his mouth trailed down your stomach, licking and kissing a path down to the waistband of your shorts. Being quiet was starting to feel like and impossible task. He hooked his fingers into the fabric and tugged, slowly stripping you, his eyes never leaving yours. You stepped out of your biker shorts and kicked them away, now dressed only in your bra and panties. "So fucking gorgeous," he growled, his eyes roaming over your body. "Been wanting to see you like this for so fucking long, just for me to see." He stood then, and you could see the bulge in his pants, could see how much he wanted you. You reached for him, needing to feel his hard length in your hand. He moaned as you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, gently.

"You like when I touch you?" you asked, your voice a whisper. It was teasing but it was also a genuine question. You two had never done this before. You felt like you were on another planet. It almost didn't make sense

"Fuck, yeah," he hissed, his hips bucking into your hand. "But I want to feel your mouth. I want you to be a good girl f’me tonight. Can you do that f’me?" He asked and you nodded. You didn't need to be told twice. You sank to your knees in front of him, your eyes never leaving his, and then you took him into your mouth, sucking and teasing, your tongue flicking over the sensitive head of his cock. He tasted his pre cum and it had you wanting more. You moaned as you took him deeper, your hands cupping his heavy balls. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you but not forcing you. "Good girl. Suck my cock. Just like that" A part of Trent was confused that those words flowed out of his mouth so easily to you… to Jack’s little sister but he couldn’t stop them, he couldn’t not twitch at the way your tongue felt on him.  This was everything he wanted. You hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each stroke, your free hand wrapping around the base of his shaft, stroking and twisting as you sucked. You could feel his thighs trembling, knew he was close, and you wanted to taste him. After a while, Trent couldn’t manage any longer. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck baby, gonna make me cum," he warned, his voice tight with need. You sucked harder, faster, and with a muted roar, he came, flooding your mouth with his hot cum. You swallowed it all, moaning with pleasure as you milked him dry, your hands and mouth gentle as he rode out his orgasm. Slowly, he helped you to your feet, his eyes burning with desire, and then he kissed you, deep and hard, his tongue dueling with yours as he claimed your mouth. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you hungrier for more. Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and carried you to the bed. He laid you on the mattress, crawling over you, his lips and tongue trailing down your body. He pushed your bra up, baring your tits, and took a nipple into his hot mouth, sucking and biting as his fingers pinched and pulled the other peak. You moaned and arched your back, your hands grabbing his hair, holding him to you as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh. He suckled you like a man starving, his hands roaming over your body, squeezing and caressing, learning every inch of you.

"Please," you whimpered, your need building. "Trent, I need—" He cut you off by tugging your panties down your legs and settling between your thighs.

"I know what you need." He hooked your legs over his shoulders and blew a hot breath over your wet center, making you shiver in anticipation. "God, you're so fucking wet f'me," he groaned, his tongue dipping into your slit and tasting your essence. His mouth was magic, his tongue probing and flicking your clit, licking and sucking your juices, delving into your hole and fucking you with his tongue. You moaned and writhed beneath him, your hands gripping the bed sheets as he ate you like he'd never be allowed to taste you again.

"T please," you begged, your body tightening, coiling like a spring. "I'm close, so close." You whined. He hummed against your clit, sending vibrations through your sensitive flesh, and that was all it took. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as you came, your pussy clenching and releasing around his probing tongue.

"Good girl." He murmured against you. Slowly, he let you down, kissing and licking his way back up your body, and then he was beside you, pulling you into his arms, your heads pillowed on his broad chest. You could feel his heart thundering in his chest, could feel his heavy cock pressed against your thigh. "Oh my fucking god" you whispered, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. You felt dizzy form the best orgasm of your life and the fact that you were naked in front of Jack’s best friend.

"You don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, baby." He told you and you hummed, unable to get anything more concrete out. “Not done with you.” He growled, his hands skimming down your back to cup your bare ass. "I want to feel that tight pussy around my cock." You shivered at his words, a bolt of need shooting straight to your core.

"Please, T," you begged, your voice thick with need. "I want you inside me." You begged. He rolled you onto your back and positioned himself between your thighs, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slippery slit. You whimpered, spreading your legs wider, cradling his balls with your thighs, urging him on.

"Condom," you whispered, your eyes searching his.  With a nod, he rolled onto his back, giving you access to check the nightstand drawer, praying something would be in there. You scrambled out of bed and retrieved a condom, your naked body on full display. You’d think about why there were some in the room to begin with later because right now you weren’t complaining. He growled at the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your curves appreciatively. Back in bed, you sheathed him in latex, your hands stroking and petting, enjoying the weight and length of him in your hand.

"Come here... right now," he commanded you, his voice rough with need. Crawling onto the bed, you straddled his hips, positioning yourself over him. Slowly, you sank down, taking him inch by inch, filling yourself with his thick cock. "Just like that. Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his eyes rolling back as you took him all the way to the hilt. “Good girl.” You moaned, biting your lip as you adjusted to his size, your inner muscles clenching around him. Slowly, you started to move, rising up and sinking back down, riding him with slow, deep strokes. Your tits bounced with each movement, your hard nipples rubbing against his chest. Trent's hands came up to cup your tits, massaging and squeezing as your hips worked, your bodies slapping together in a lewd, wet rhythm. "Always wanted to fuck you, baby," he confessed, his eyes burning into yours. "Been wanting this for so long."

"Shit, shit -Me too - shit - so fucking long," you admitted, your head falling back as the pleasure built. You didn’t know it was possibly for sex to feel so good. Something so wrong but so right about this. "Oh, T��� Fuck this feels so good. Fuck, this is so good." You quickened your pace, riding him faster, harder, your juices flowing freely as your body worked towards another climax. Trent's hands moved down your body, one squeezing your breast, the other rubbing your swollen clit in time with your hips. This was so forbidden and it was making it all the hotter. 

"Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice thick with his own need. "Cum on my cock. Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum.” His words sent you over the edge, and you cried out, your body shaking as you came around him, your pussy milking his cock. You’d never heard Trent talk like this and it had your brain short circuiting and evidently your pussy clenching tighter. With a groan, Trent joined you, filling the condom with his release, his hips bucking up to meet your downward strokes. Spent, you collapsed on top of him, your breath ragged, your heart racing. He held you tightly, kissing your sweaty forehead, stroking your hair, your bodies still joined. Hi hands stroking over your sore muscles.

"That was—" you started, but he cut you off with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth, tasting of you.

"Not nearly enough, baby," he whispered, his eyes dark and full of promise. "Not nearly." He rolled you over and you giggled as you made out with him, your arm awkwardly reaching to the bedside table again tapping around until your hand found another condom. “You don't fucking understand how long I’ve wanted you. I need more of you.” Trent told you kissing your neck as your arched into him, helping him put on another condom. 

“I've needed this forever, I need more, T. I need you." You answered him with a whine. He hummed in agreement but bit down onto your sensitive skin. You moaned loving every second of this, the fear and risk of it all faded and covered up by the passion and pleasure.  You needed more of him and so Trent gave you more. He fucked you again and again till you ran down to the last spare condom. You had orgasm you didn't know were possible; earth shattering, squirting, convulsing, life changing.

“I’m the only one that gets to make you cum like this.” He whispered against your skin slick and shiny after what you would consider a workout. Your pussy sore and throbbing from orgasm after orgasm. 

“You’re the only one who ever has.” You breathily giggled. The night’s darkness wrapped around you as you laid tangled with Trent, still basking in the warmth of each other's presence. You shifted slightly, and he caught your gaze, smirking with that signature confidence. "T… this was…I’ve never cum like that before in my life," you admitted, half laughing, half in disbelief at yourself for even saying it. The smirk that grew on Trent’s face was so obnoxious and so handsome you couldn’t believe it. "Oh god, l've fed the beast, haven’t I?" you sighed, trying to downplay the flattery you'd just given him.

"Nah, nah, just tell me it was the best sex of your life, it’s fine," he laughed, clearly amused.

"Stop!" you swatted playfully at his bare chest, cheeks warm from both laughter and lingering shyness. He pulled you in closer, his arms wrapping around you with ease.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice softer now. "I'm kidding. Just want to make you to feel good, baby. I’m glad I was able to." He kissed the top of your head and then said, "I'll tell you something, how about that...”

"Hm?" You looked up, curious.

"Never came that hard in my life. That head? The first time I came inside? Fucking hell, baby. Fighting for me life,” he confessed with a low chuckle, eyes softening as he looked down at you.

"Really?" you asked, the innocence in your tone betraying just how surprised you were.

"Y/N, you've been flirting with me for 10 years," he laughed, shaking his head as if the entire situation was surreal even to him. "I was dying." You giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

"I thought you lasted a long time… longer than I thought you might.” You giggled. 

"Oh, well I'm glad you think that." He grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. You gave him a playful smile, nudging his shoulder. 

"A very valiant effort." You smiled. He raised an eyebrow, leaning in close. 

"Mm, so best sex of your life?" He teased. But the thing was… it probably was true. 

"Shut up!" You laughed, burying your face into the pillow. But then, after a beat, you nodded. "But yeah was top." You laid draped over him, feeling his warmth seep into you as your heart started to slow. 

“Yeah, Top.” He concurred quietly. You shifted a little, clearing your throat.  

"I guess I should..." you began, feeling a slight wave of shyness creep back in.

"Nah, Y/N…" Trent's voice was soft but firm, a small smile tugging at his lips as he pulled you closer. "Stay here with me for a bit. I don’t want… just stay. Gotta make sure you're good after all that.” A smile spread across your face as you nuzzled into him, settling comfortably against his chest. You knew it’d be a bad idea to sleep in the room, making the risk of getting caught much larger but leaving so soon felt weird. Trent could sense that tension. It was… awkward in the logistics but not in the feelings blooming. 

"Okay," you murmured, letting yourself sink into the moment. You felt so comfortable with him but it was also simultaneously terrifying. Both emotions coexisting and fighting for the top spot.

"Such a good girl f'me," he muttered, his fingers tracing light circles on your back. The comment made your heart skip a beat, though you tried to brush it off. In any other situation you wouldn’t have batted an eye but now in post nut clarity you were almost shocked hearing that come out of his mouth again. 

"You can't call me that anymore," you said with a giggle, feeling a little flustered, though it was hard to deny how much you liked it.

"What?" he laughed, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Baby, we're in bed. I think we've crossed a few lines here."

"Yeah, but it's..." you trailed off, trying to come up with a reason, but the words slipped away as he looked at you.

"C'mon. You were so good f'me, taking my cock," he teased, the smirk on his lips both infuriating and irresistibly charming. The memory of the way his hands had explored you, how he knew exactly how to make you fall apart, sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed, feeling your muscles tense as you tried to come up with a retort, but before you could say anything, he brought a finger to your lips. "Shhh," he murmured, "you like being a good girl for me. It's okay. Just lay here.” And so you took his finger in your mouth teasingly. He had you and he had you acting like a complete mess for the dick he just gave you. The way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded and full of a quiet, possessive affection, made your pulse quicken. And as you lay there, the weight of what had just happened settled around you. It was a dangerous game you were playing, but at that moment, wrapped in Trent's arms, it felt like the only place you wanted to be. You fell asleep like that tangled with him. It was the best sleep of your life. Your body sore but you’d never felt more alive. 

“Shit…” you mumbled as the soft morning light filtered through the guest room curtains, casting a faint glow over you and Trent as you woke, wrapped in each other’s arms. You were still half-asleep, but the weight of the situation hit you all at once—the fact that you were cuddling with Trent in your house while your brother, Jack, was likely just upstairs, god, you prayed not downstairs yet. Panic fluttered in your chest as you glanced at the clock on your phone. “I have to go,” you whispered, trying to sound casual, but the urgency in your voice betrayed you.

“Nah.” Trent’s response was a lazy, contented hum as he buried his face into your neck, pressing a kiss against your skin. It was so bad how good that felt. 

“I have to go soon,” you corrected yourself, trying to wriggle free, but Trent’s arms only tightened around you.

“Definitely not soon,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your collarbone. You laughed softly, even though your heart was racing.

 “What? Do you have some sort of death wish? Jack would kill us both if he found out.” Trent grinned, his hands gently caressing your back under the covers. 

“At least we’d die together.” He cooed. You tilted your head to look at him, surprised by how calm he was. 

“You’d really risk it? For a cuddle?” His brow furrowed slightly, a look of confusion crossing his face. 

“Mmm.” He hummed with a sleepy raspiness. 

“You never struck me as a cuddle person.” You smiled letting your hands run over his arm skin. 

“What are you on about? I’ve cuddled with you before.” He smirked knowing very well this was a radically different type of cuddle. You were naked. 

“Yeah, but that was… innocent, right?” You asked, suddenly unsure. Everything felt different now—charged with the weight of what had happened between you.

“Was it really though?” Trent smirked, raising an eyebrow.  Your eyes widened as your stomach did a little flip. 

“I don’t know!” you yelped, your voice half a laugh, half a nervous squeak. He shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully. He said your name slowly, and your pulse quickened as he locked eyes with you. The conversation shifted from what you were doing now to talking about what you had been doing before.

“Come on. I always cuddle with you because it felt right. I feel like we have a good time, I like spending time with you, and…” He hesitated for a second before continuing, his voice dropping lower. “I didn’t exactly mind if it led somewhere.” Your breath caught in your throat at the openness of his words. His hands continued to trace soft patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You could feel your cheeks warming, and you looked away shyly.

“I don’t mind any of those reasons,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Good,” Trent whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, pulling you even closer. Giving in to the temptation, you let your fingers continue their slow, teasing dance across Trent's chest, savoring the feeling of his skin under your fingertips. His breath hitched as you traced over every ridge of muscle, and you could feel his body heat rising with each delicate stroke. "Alright. Stopppp," Trent groaned, his voice low and husky, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away. His head fell back against the pillow, a helpless laugh escaping his lips. "You always do this. You’re turning me on. Stop!" He whined complaining in typical Trent fashion. 

"Do what?" you teased, feigning innocence but unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips. He shook his head, glancing down at you with a mix of frustration and affection in his eyes.

"This. The nails, the way you touch me, like you don't know exactly what it does to me. You drag your nails over me in specific spots you know will get me thinking. You do this everytime we just chill or like even if we’re taking photos! You’re such a tease!” He accused you, his voice trailing off, his hands slipping beneath the blankets to rest on your hips, fingers tightening just slightly. "You're always teasing me.” He smirked. Your manicure pulling across his skin. Your smile widened teasingly, dragging your nails across his chest again, but slower this time, more deliberate. Trent's groan was deep, the kind that sent shivers down your spine.  “Ohhh so you know you’re doing this? Wow I see. Innocent cuddles such bullshit from you as well.” He laughed, shaking his head. His hand on you slipped higher, skimming your waist. His touch was possessive, warm, and the way his fingers brushed your skin set your pulse racing. He let out a breath, as if trying to compose himself, but you could see the effect you had on him.  "You're not as innocent as you pretend to be," he said, tilting his head to look at you more seriously, his lips twitching with amusement. "You know exactly what you're doing." You giggled, leaning into his chest, feeling your cheeks warm as you tried to keep your composure. 

"Okay, maybe I do a little," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"A little?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. 

“Don’t make it out like I’ve had some long game plan,” you giggled, though your heart was racing at how close you were, how his hands were pulling you closer, his warmth seeping into your skin. Trent's gaze softened, his hand still resting on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. His voice dropped, more serious now. 

“No? “He inquired with a raised brow and a smirk You swallowed, heart pounding. 

"No, maybe just hope.” You shyly told him, glancing up at him. His smirk faded into something softer as he shifted slightly, turning more toward you. 

"Yeah?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with a kind of gentle curiosity, his hand sliding higher up your side, his touch now more comforting than teasing. "I'm glad you did.” The weight of his words hung between you, unspoken but understood, and suddenly, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you in that moment-his warmth, his touch, his eyes locked on yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both just lay there, wrapped up in each other, the blanket pulled tight around you as if creating your own little bubble of warmth and secrecy. Trent's fingers brushed over your skin again, a slow, deliberate touch that made your breath catch. You shifted slightly, letting your fingers continue their teasing exploration of his chest.

"You know," you whispered, leaning in closer until your lips brushed the curve of his ear, "I didn't mean to drive you crazy." Trent chuckled softly, his breath hot against your neck as he tilted his head toward you.

"You did a pretty good job of it anyway," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. "And you're still doing it." You hummed in response, your lips curving into a smile as you let your nails rake over him again, watching his eyes flutter shut. 

"Is it really all that bad?" you whispered, your voice playful but with a hint of challenge. His eyes flicked open, locking onto yours, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you again. 

"It's bad because I can't think about anything else," he said, his voice rough with desire. "You've been driving me mad for a long time." The tension between you was thick, but instead of pulling away, Trent's hands slid back to your hips, gripping you just a little tighter. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, but not quite closing the distance.

"Is that so?" you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest as you tilted your head, letting your lips hover just over his. You wanted him to close the gap, to take what he'd been holding back, but you also wanted to savor the moment, to stretch it out just a little longer.

"Yeah," he whispered back, his breath hot on your lips, his hands tugging you even closer under the blanket. "You're not going anywhere." He cooed. You grinned, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you tilted your head, lips barely grazing his.

 "Not yet," you whispered back, enjoying the game, the push and pull between you two. Trent's eyes darkened with desire, his grip tightening on you as he leaned in just enough for your lips to finally touch in a slow, searing kiss that made every nerve in your body ignite. His hand tangled in your hair as the kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into him, every playful tease forgotten as his lips claimed yours.  The worry of Jack finding you almost disintegrating entirely by Trent’s lips on yours.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 4 - Saturday Night xx

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Embrace Me

(1-1)

Short story # 26

Gif NOT mine.

Paring - Commander Mills X Plussize!Reader

Summary - Your simply trying to relax after a grueling day of hiking, across the tundra of an unknown planet. And Commander Mills is absolutely determined to relax with you, his copilot and long time crush.

Rating - SFW (It gets a bit spicy, but nothing occurs.)

Reading time (roughly) - 12 minutes

Year posted - 2025

"Can we please rest for the night? I feel like I've got blisters on my blisters." (Y/n) whined at her Commander, who was walking a short distance ahead of her. He sighed heavily through his nose, glancing back at his copilot over his shoulder. "We should find shelter first, it's going to storm tonight." He argued. (Y/n) groaned in response, her feet were killing her, and her gear grew heavier and heavier with each step. "Why did we have to crash on such a miserable planet." She complained, as she adjusted the strap of her plasma rifle higher onto her shoulder. Mills chuckled softly at her words, silently agreeing with her assessment of this uncharted planet. "I would offer to carry you." Mills said as he glanced back, smirking at how quick (Y/n) perked up. "But you're awfully heavy." He teased playfully, laughing when he felt her throw a handful of berries at his back. "That's not nice." She huffed at him, feeling a tad bit insecure, despite knowing he was only joking. Mills turned to observe her expression, and before he could see the look of insecurity on her face, (Y/n) pulled up a mask of playful bitterness. Even going as far as to childishly stick her tongue out at him. Again he simply chuckled and turned back to continue leading the way.

Almost an hour later they finally found a suitable place for shelter, and in the nick of time. As soon as they'd sat their packs down within the cave, it was as if the heavens had simply opened up, and a downpour of rain fell from the darkening sky. "Finally." (Y/n) sighed as she plopped down onto the ground, carefully pulling her boots off with a hiss of discomfort. While Mills on the other hand began setting up a perimeter defense, or rather a security system. The rhythmic hum of the security devices was soothing in a way, knowing that as long as they remind humming this calm tone, then they were completely safe. "Here." Mills offered (Y/n) his canteen of fresh water. "Thanks." She excepted it gratefully, taking a generous sip before pushing it back towards him. "I'm okay, drink up, you need it." He assured her, and though she knew it wasn't, it felt like another jab at her weight. "Okay." She muttered softly, her eyes unable to hide her sadness, as she looked down at the canteen in her hand. "Hey are you okay?" Mills asked, instantly picking up on her sudden shift in mood. (Y/n) willed herself to perk up a bit, a false smile stretching across her face smoothly. "Yeah just tired is all." She lied through her teeth, and while Mills looked like he wanted to say something, he simply nodded his head, and turned his attention to rummaging through his pack.

(Y/n) took a few more generous sips of the water, and as she sealed the lid, Mills held his hand out to her. "You should eat something." He said as he opened his palm to her, inside his hand lay a chocolate bar, her personal favorite chocolate at that. A nagging voice in the back of her mind taunted her, echoing that he chose chocolate specifically because of her weight. "I'm not really all that hungry, just wanna rest is all." She lied again, ignoring the hungry twist in her gut. "We've been walking all day, you need to keep up your energy." Mills insisted, placing the chocolate into her and, and closing her fingers around it. "Sure." She muttered softly, wishing the ground would just open up beneath her, and swallow her whole. Mills smiled at her, pleased that he had been able to snag a few of her favorite chocolate bars, before they left the tattered ships kitchen behind. (Y/n) had peeled back the wrapper, and was taking tentative bites of her chocolate. Her eyes following Mills as he refilled the canteen with rain water, and then retrieved a snack for himself. A preserved granola, high in protein, low in fat... And sugar. She felt the urge to throw up, but swallowed the knot of bile building in her throat. Unable to take it anymore she shoved the rest of the chocolate bar into her pack, and lay back against the hard dirt covered ground. Her eyes swirled with insecurities and sadness, as she stared at the roof of the cave.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mills asked suddenly, observing her with concerned eyes. He'd never seen her act like this, and while it wasn't everyday they crash landed on an uncharted planet, he worried that there was something else bothering her. "I'm perfectly fine." (Y/n) insisted as she closed her eyes. "You know..." He started as he sat aside the rest of his food. "It's okay to be scared right now." (Y/n) took a deep breath through her nose, and crossed her ankles. "I'm pretty shaken up myself." He admitted in a soft reassuring voice, watching as she simply laced her fingers together on top of her soft belly. Mills swallowed thickly as he observed her, wandering if she felt as soft and cozy as she looked. "I'm just tired okay." She insisted with a bit of a bite at the end. "Okay." Was all Mills could bring himself to say, and for a moment his attention was drawn outside, as a crack of thunder rumbled menacingly in the darkness. When his eyes cast back to (Y/n) he noticed how she shivered slightly when a gust of wind blew through the cave. He smiled faintly at the sight of her, noticing how peaceful she appeared to be in this moment. Without thinking Mills crossed the distance to kneel at her feet. She didn't seem to notice his proximity, or she simply chose to ignore it all together. However when he gently grasped her ankles, and uncrossed her legs she reacted. "What are you doing?" Was all she said, her eyes still closed.

"You're cold." Mills stated as a matter of fact, before pushing her legs up until her knees bent. As he slotted himself between her legs, and pressed himself as close to her as he could, she opened her eyes. "That doesn't answer my question, what the hell are you doing?" She asked and though her tone sounded annoyed, her eyes betrayed her and bared her curiosity to him. "Keeping you warm." Mills stated casually as he hooked (Y/n)'s legs to rest comfortably around his waist. Afterwards he took ahold of her wrists, and pulled her arms up to lay beside her head, his hands engulfing her own, and keeping her locked in place. "A blanket would have sufficed." (Y/n) uttered as their noses brushed from their close proximity. "I was cold too, and we only have the one blanket. You know after you lost yours yesterday." He teased her with a grin on his face. "You're so annoying sometimes, you know that?" (Y/n) huffed as she tried wiggling free, only to freeze with a squeak, when she felt just how much of him was pressed against her. Mills hummed at the feeling and nuzzled his face into her neck, inhaling her natural musk after sweating most of the day. (Y/n) wanted to wiggle away, feeling insecure about how she smelled. "You're so soft." Mills muttered against her ear, his plush lips brushing against her skin. (Y/n) wasn't sure what to say, and despite herself, she felt herself relaxing beneath him.

"I've always wanted to be this close to you." He admitted in a soft whisper, his words making (Y/n)'s heart flutter. "Close? Mills you're more than just close. You're invading, suffocating, practically swallowing me." (Y/n) said as she made a mental note of how much his body was caging her entire body against the ground, how easily he covered her as if she was just a small thing. Mills pulled back a little, just enough to look at her face. "I can move." He said as he shifted to get off of her, however before he could move far, (Y/n) locked her legs around his hips, keeping him in place. "Don't you dare." She huffed at him in warning. With a smile he relaxed, and nuzzled his face into her neck again. "There is something you can do for me Commander." Mills shuttered at the use of his title. "Anything." He promised. "Let me feel all of you, crush me under your weight. Please." (Y/n) said in a breathless tone, finding herself desperate to feel him everywhere. Mills huffed against her neck finding desire flowing through his body, at the thought of truly laying on her. And without needing to be told twice he relaxed further, and little by little he dropped his full weight onto her. (Y/n)'s breathing became a bit shallow at the new weight on her ribs, but the moan that passed her lips was divine music to his ears. "Holy fuck that feels amazing." She breathed out, her fingers flexing and unflexing around his much larger ones.

"Keep making sounds like that, and we aren't going to get much rest." Mills murmured against her skin, moving so the bridge of his nose ran along the length of her jaw. "Fuck resting." (Y/n) huffed as she rocked her hips up, and moaning at the feeling of the curve of his cock nestled firmly against her. "You're going to be the death of me." Mills uttered as he pushed his groin against her, a groan bubbling in his throat when he felt just how much warmer she was there. (Y/n)'s breathing had become a bit more shallow, and sensing her body couldn't handle the extra weight, Mills pulled up just enough to ease the pressure off of her. (Y/n) grunted in annoyance however, and pushed her chest up to meet his. "Lay against me." She begged. "I don't want to hurt you." Mills argued before planting a feather light kiss against her forehead. "I don't care, I want you to crush me." She admitted before pushing forward to kiss him. Mills melted into the kiss, and slowly eased his weight onto her once more, greedily swallowing the moan that she gave to him. As the kiss deepened Mills began to slowly rock against (Y/n)'s clothed heat, offering them both some relief, and yet making them both crave more. "I want you to ride me." He admitted then they parted for air. "I thought I was too heavy." (Y/n) said, with a twinge of sadness in her voice. Understanding now the mistake he'd made earlier, Mills finally realized why she had been acting odd.

"Bullshit." He argued, and before she could say anything else. He hoisted them both up off of the ground, holding (Y/n) up by the fat of her thighs as if she weighed nothing at all. She had gasped in surprise and the sudden movement, and squeezed herself closer to him, afraid he would drop her. "You're so fucking perfect." Mills murmured as he rest his forehead against hers, allowing her body to lower just enough to keep his cock snug against her clothed sex. "Oh my god." (Y/n) panted almost breathlessly, as fear and desire coursed through her veins. Without thought she grinded down against him, her arms tightening around his shoulders, and her eyes squeezed shut. "So beautiful." Mills breathed out before kissing her once more, teeth and tongue clashing in a desperate symphony of love and desire. His large hands squeezed at her plush thighs, making him groan at how soft and squishy she felt. "I love you, fuck I love you." Mills declared against her lips, as he continued to grind against her. "Please let me show you how much I love you." He panted heavily, her moan going right to his core. "Please please please please." He rambled over and over, desperately wanting to make her feel good, and show her just how much he loves her. "Y-yes." (Y/n) nodded her head vigorously in agreement. "S-show me how m-much you love me Commander." She stammered over her words, her entire body buzzing with desire. "Thank you thank you thank you." Mills babbled as he began pulling at her clothes, desperate to see all of her body, and to finally get to worship every inch of her skin, and her very soul.

God I loved this movie... I mean sure it had some plot holes, but I could care less. The amount of grunting and heavy breathing we get to hear Adam make is divine... When I first watched this movie, I was wearing headphones, and oh my god he was killing me with those sounds. Anyhow I hope you enjoyed this one.

[th3w1ltedpe0ny]

☆She's my star☆

○°Minific/Shortfic°○

Donatello x Fem!Reader

Tags: Wholesome, and sweeter then candy.

Summary: 2012!Donnie has been waiting for the right time to confess to you, his thoughts of you being profound and wonderous.

Request: Yes/No

"Mind making something for Donnie?? I want to cry from cuteness."

He never took the time to remember when he started becoming so... poetic.

But he didn't give a nickel and a thimbles plastic shard about it. It's how you did. But he wondered why men weren't more like him, men that had his approach to loving someone so much.

You were his star. His ball of hot air. His shining light to guide him across uncharted waters to his destiny. You were bright, but dim when you wanted to go unnoticed, dull and void during the day and quiet until the blanket of night covered all of New York.

He loved the night because of you. Cherished the moments the two of you shared, the memories.

"Donnie, are we still on for using my new telescope tonight to look at the stars? Please tell me you didn't start another project without me!" You were leaned against him when you had whined about it. His first date with you or what he considered to be so.

"Wouldn't miss it. It gives me a chance to observe some of the shifts in the stars from the last full moon." He had his trained responses ready that day, but he'd been bold and wrapped his arm around your waist as you flickered and smiled at him brightly as he worked. "That's my D." Was your little quip. Your 'D', certainly was an odd way of putting claim to him in any way.

But he simply smiled and went off to collect all he'd need for this. For you. God's if there was a way to explain just how bright you burned to him. A picnic basket, cookies Raph had begrudgingly made for him so you'd get a homely feeling after the two of you would be situated, snacks like plain potato chips and cheese and meats to go with it, sparkling waters and regular waters, and a picnic blanket on top.

Splendid.

The shellraiser needed to be cleaned out, washed, and freshened up with some new modifications. Not a problem for the genius in his element.

♡~~~~~~♡

"Blind spot on your right," he murmured into the comm as the shellraiser rumbled past the last recognizable street signs of the city. You'd insisted on driving, despite his protests about the modified controls he'd only just installed last week.

"I see it, D," you replied, expertly maneuvering around a pothole that would have swallowed a smaller vehicle whole. Your confidence behind the wheel always left him in awe—just one more thing to add to his ever-growing list of reasons why you burned brighter than Betelgeuse in his universe.

The city fell away behind you, concrete jungle thinning into actual trees as you followed the route he'd mapped out. A place where light pollution couldn't steal the stars away, where Venus would be visible in all her glory.

"Three more miles," he said, checking his tablet. "There's an old observatory platform that nobody uses anymore. Perfect elevation, minimal interference."

You hummed in response, a melody he couldn't quite place but that settled into his bones like it belonged there. "Is this the surprise you've been mumbling about in your sleep?"

Heat flooded his face. "I don't mumble in my sleep."

"Sure you don't," you teased, flashing him that grin that made his heart stumble every time. "Just like you don't snore either."

"That's—I—" he spluttered, then caught your smirk in the rearview mirror. "You're impossible."

"That's why you keep me around." You winked, turning the shellraiser onto a narrow road that wound upward.

The vehicle groaned as it climbed, but soon enough you'd reached the clearing he'd discovered during late-night satellite image searches. An abandoned concrete platform overlooked the valley below, with the faint glow of the city visible only as a distant haze.

"Donnie," you whispered as you stepped out, neck craned toward the sky. "It's perfect."

He couldn't look up yet. Couldn't tear his eyes away from the way starlight played across your features, casting shadows and highlighting contours he'd memorized but never tired of studying.

"Venus should be visible right about..." he checked his watch then pointed to a spot just above the eastern horizon, "there."

You followed his gesture, your telescope already halfway set up. "Oh my god," you breathed. "She's beautiful."

"Yeah," he agreed, not looking at the sky at all. "Beautiful."

♡~~~~~~♡

The telescope forgotten, you both lay sprawled on the picnic blanket, heads tilted back to take in the vast canopy of stars. The cookies Raph had made were long gone, crumbs still clinging to the corner of your mouth that Donnie fought the urge to brush away.

"Did you know," he began, unable to help himself, "that Venus is the only planet named after a female goddess?"

"The goddess of love," you added, rolling onto your side to face him.

"And beauty," he continued, swallowing hard. "The ancient Romans thought she was so bright because she was special. Different from all the other wandering stars."

You smiled. "Is this your roundabout way of comparing me to Venus?"

"Is it that obvious?" He chuckled nervously, adjusting his glasses.

"Only because I know you." Your hand found his in the darkness, fingers intertwining. "You get this particular tone when you're being romantic through science facts."

"I do not—"

"You absolutely do," you insisted. "Your voice gets all soft and technical at the same time. It's my favorite Donnie-voice."

He fell silent, the weight of that statement settling over him like a warm blanket. You had categorized his voices. Had a favorite. Were paying that much attention.

"You know," he said finally, gaze drifting back to the sky, "astronomers once thought Venus might be habitable. A sister planet to Earth. They were wrong, of course—it's a hellscape of sulfuric acid rain and crushing atmospheric pressure."

You snorted. "Way to kill the romantic mood, D."

"No, that's not—" He propped himself up on one elbow, suddenly earnest. "What I mean is, even the most beautiful things can be dangerous. Unpredictable. But that doesn't make them any less worth exploring. Worth understanding."

Your expression softened as you realized what he was trying to say.

"Venus is crossing paths with Earth tonight," he continued, voice barely above a whisper. "Closest approach. Won't happen again for years."

"And you brought me here to see it?" You squeezed his hand.

"I brought you here because..." He hesitated, the words tangling in his throat. All his technical knowledge, all his genius, and he still couldn't articulate the simplest truth. "Because there's no one else I'd rather watch the stars with. No one else who makes me feel like I'm more than just a brain in a shell. When I'm with you, even the celestial mechanics I've studied my whole life feel new. Magical."

You shifted closer, your warmth radiating through the cool night air. "Donnie?"

"Hmm?"

"You're doing it again. The poetic thing."

He smiled sheepishly. "Can't help it. You're my Venus."

"Sulfuric acid rain and all?" you teased.

"The beautiful part," he clarified quickly. "The part that outshines everything else. The part worth crossing paths with, no matter how rarely it happens."

You leaned forward then, resting your forehead against his. Above you, a million stars witnessed the moment your lips met his—a cosmic event all its own, the convergence of two celestial bodies finding their perfect orbit at last.

[r-memberme]

first steps, or stumbles | k.m

⎯⎯Klaus watches every movement, his gaze sharp beneath his amusement. He doesn’t rush you. He waits, patient, letting you take your time.

warnings: learning how to swim, feeling of drowning

The water stretches before you like an uncharted abyss��vast, rippling, uncertain.

You stand at the edge, toes curling into the damp sand, the waves licking at your feet as if testing your resolve. It’s not that you’re afraid, exactly. It’s just that the water is unpredictable, unknowable. It shifts with every breath of the wind, and beneath the surface, there is only depth.

Klaus, of course, looks perfectly at ease. He stands waist-deep, the water breaking gently against his ribs, golden light catching in the droplets that cling to his skin. He watches you with that insufferable smirk, arms crossed, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” he teases, tilting his head.

Your jaw tightens. “No.”

“Then by all means, join me.”

But you don’t move.

Klaus exhales, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. “Shall I come retrieve you, love?” He takes a step closer, the water swirling around his waist, and instinctively, you take a step back.

His grin widens. “Ah,” he muses. “So you are afraid.”

༊*·˚

The first step into the water is easy. The second, a little harder. The moment it rises past your knees, you feel the shift—the way the ground beneath you becomes less reliable, the way the current tugs at your legs as if beckoning you forward.

Klaus watches every movement, his gaze sharp beneath his amusement. He doesn’t rush you. He waits, patient, letting you take your time.

You inch forward, shivering as the water grazes your stomach, wrapping around you like a second skin. “I hate this,” you grumble.

“You’ve barely left the shore,” Klaus points out.

“I still hate it.”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches out, offering his hands. The water has made his skin cooler than usual, but his grip is solid, grounding. You hold on, and he pulls you a little deeper.

The moment your feet barely scrape the bottom, panic seizes you. Your muscles lock, your breath catches—your body knows, instinctively, that you don’t belong in this element.

Klaus notices immediately. His grip tightens. “Breathe,” he murmurs. “You’re safe.”

The certainty in his voice makes something in your chest loosen, just a little. You don’t trust the water, but you trust him.

For now, that will have to be enough.

༊*·˚

"Lean back," Klaus instructs.

You stare at him. "Lean back into the water?"

"Yes, love," he says, far too entertained by your hesitation. "That is generally how floating works."

You hesitate, arms stiff, body tense. Everything in you screams that this is a terrible idea. Water isn’t solid, it isn’t stable—it’s wild and shifting and unpredictable.

Klaus, however, is maddeningly unbothered. “Come now, surely you trust me?”

You eye him. “That’s what people say right before they let you drown.”

He actually laughs at that. “If I wanted to drown you, love, I’d have chosen a far more dramatic setting.”

You glare, but with a deep breath, you hesitantly let yourself tilt back. The moment your balance shifts, panic surges through you. You flail, grasping at Klaus’ arms, nails digging in. The water sloshes, a cold shock against your skin, and you barely suppress a yelp.

Klaus is unshaken. His hands remain steady, strong. “Easy,” he soothes. “I’ve got you.”

Your heart pounds as you try—really try—to relax. Slowly, cautiously, you loosen your grip. His hands remain, supporting your weight as the water holds you.

It’s strange. Foreign. You are weightless, but not sinking. Suspended in something you’ve feared for so long.

And just for a moment, it doesn’t feel so terrifying.

༊*·˚

After a few more tries (and an embarrassing amount of panicking), you finally manage to float on your own.

Klaus looks ridiculously pleased with himself. “There now,” he muses. “Not so terrible, was it?”

You don’t answer. You’re too focused on not sinking.

Klaus, however, is already bored of floating. With a smirk, he suddenly pushes off, cutting through the water with effortless grace. He moves like he belongs here, like he was made for this—like the water isn’t something to fear at all.

You glare at him. “You’re showing off.”

He circles back to you, grinning. “And you’re staring, sweetheart.”

You splash water in his face.

Klaus merely blinks, droplets clinging to his lashes. Then, slow and deliberate, he raises a single brow.

“Oh, love,” he murmurs, voice rich with impending mischief. “That was a mistake.”

༊*·˚

The next thing you know, you’re shrieking as Klaus retaliates mercilessly, sending wave after wave of water crashing into you with all the enthusiasm of a man who has nothing better to do than torment you.

"You menace!" you gasp, flailing as another splash hits you square in the face. You sputter, wiping water from your eyes, only to be immediately met with another attack.

Klaus is grinning, utterly unrepentant. "You started it, darling," he reminds you, because of course he’s the type to justify his crimes.

"You deserved it!" you retort, half laughing, half trying to dodge the next wave of incoming doom.

"For what?" He tilts his head, the picture of false innocence.

"For existing," you declare, launching a splash of your own at him with as much force as you can muster.

It’s a bold move. A brave move. A very stupid move.

Because Klaus, the overdramatic heathen that he is, doesn’t just flinch or sputter like a normal person. No—he goes still, his expression shifting into something deeply unsettling. A slow, almost lazy smile curves his lips, and it’s not a goodsmile. It’s the kind of smile that suggests revenge is coming, and it will be swift and merciless.

“Oh, love,” he drawls, voice rich with mischief. "That was a mistake."

You barely have time to regret your actions before he moves.

One second, he’s standing there, plotting your demise. The next, he lunges.

You let out a shriek, twisting away, but it’s too late—his arms close around you, and suddenly, the world is nothing but water.

The lake swallows you whole. Silence. Weightlessness. Cold slipping over your skin. For a split second, you expect panic. Expect that old, familiar terror to sink its claws into your chest.

But it doesn’t.

Because before you can even process the fall, Klaus is already there, steady and unshaken, one hand firm around your waist as he pulls you up, guiding you effortlessly back to the surface.

You break through with a gasp, blinking rapidly as water drips from your lashes.

Klaus is laughing—warm, breathless, infuriating.

“You—” you sputter, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You fiend!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Fiend? Oh, come now, sweetheart, a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“You tried to kill me!”

“Oh, hardly.” He smirks, infuriatingly smug. “If I wanted you dead, love, you’d know it.”

You glare. He beams.

And then, because you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation, you shove him.

Hard.

Klaus doesn’t stumble. Klaus doesn’t budge. Klaus is not so easily defeated. But he was expecting resistance—just not in the form of you throwing your entire weight at him like an enraged raccoon.

And so, with a very undignified yelp, he actually loses his footing—just for a second, just long enough for you to see the moment his smug confidence turns to surprise before—

Splash.

Klaus goes under.

For a second, there’s only silence.

You blink.

And then you run.

Or at least, you try—which is difficult when you’re waist-deep in water and incredibly unathletic. But you attempt an escape nonetheless, turning and wading as fast as you possibly can toward the shore.

You don’t make it two steps before something grabs you.

A sharp yelp escapes you as Klaus—drenched, vengeful, and very much back from the dead—catches your ankle and yanks you backward.

“Klaus—! NO—”

Your protest is cut short as he tackles you into the water with all the enthusiasm of a man who is done playing games.

The lake consumes you both in a violent, chaotic splash.

You come up gasping, flailing uselessly, but Klaus has already won. He holds you firm, arms wrapped around you from behind, trapping you effortlessly as you sputter and curse and struggle against your inevitable doom.

"Tragic," he muses, not at all out of breath. "You were so close to freedom, love."

"I hate you."

He leans in, voice low and dripping with amusement. "No, you don’t."

You screech and attempt to elbow him in the ribs.

He laughs, and the sound is warm, effortless, like summer itself.

And for the first time, the water doesn’t feel so unwelcoming after all.

thank you anon for this beautiful request! <3 I hope you love it!

taglist: @ohapple @myworldrightnow@deactiveblogx@witch-of-letters@xtwistedchaosx@liataylorsversion@pardonmydelayyy

[nessa007]

reasons to love live action ariel/eric

they both love to collect things. ariel collects things from the above world and keeps them in her grotto. eric collects things from his travels on his ship/from the ocean and keeps them in his library. the scene between them in the library is truly everything 🥹🥰

ariel showing him there’s even more to the things he had collected, smashing the rock to reveal what’s inside it, blowing into the shell and eric is completely in awe of her knowing these things

eric is so drawn to the sea because he was washed up onto land from a shipwreck as a baby and taken in by the royal family. so the sea is basically where he came from, just like ariel. ariel rescuing him just makes him even more drawn to the sea/ariel.

they both feel somewhat trapped. eric in his castle feeling misplaced and like he has to be a perfect prince and ariel feels trapped in the ocean. they both just want to escape and believe there is so much more to life than where they currently are.

ariel finding the mermaid figurine in eric’s library and eric saying “my little mermaid” (i SCREAMED internally) 😭 which he then gave it to ariel to keep ❤️

ariel pointing at the aries constellation to show eric what her name is and eventually leading him to correctly say “ariel” to which he replies “that’s a beautiful name” this was the cutest thing and so clever and this moment just has me so giddy i can’t 🥹

ursula making ariel forget that she has to get eric to kiss/fall in love with her in order for her to remain human. so eric/ariel’s relationship is so much more genuine. like we saw eric was about to kiss ariel when they were lying on the boat during “kiss the girl” but ariel got nervous and sat up. ariel just wanted to see eric again when she became human and wanted to get to know him and find out more about him and his world and they ended up falling for each other because of who they are as people and how similar they are to each other

their HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 🙌🥰

when eric slightly touches ariel’s hand as she sings to him after she rescued him

eric getting his own amazing song, “wild uncharted waters” where he sings about not being able to forget about ariel and can’t get her and her voice out of his head (i’m obsessed the way they even feature ariel’s voice on the song… literal chills)

ariel saving eric’s life for the second time when she steers the ship into ursula. she remembers how to steer the ship from when she saw eric on his ship when she saw him for the first time the night she saved him from drowning

when they go off exploring on their day out and they have so much fun with the townspeople, dancing and just being free

then they come back to the castle after falling into the lake and they’re soaked and giggling while hiding from eric’s mother and grimsby

ariel wearing eric’s hat and then she so adorably puts it back on eric’s head as she walks off to her room and eric is so clearly smitten with her

the way eric’s feelings for ariel are so strong that even ursula couldn’t make them disappear despite him being under her spell. he still cared so much for ariel during this and asked where she was

“ariel. it was you all along. i should’ve known.” 😭

eric pleading for them to send out ships to go find ariel after ursula is killed

eric finding ariel’s blue dress in the ocean but then putting it back in the water because he feels she’s gone forever and there’s no way they can be together 💔

eric sitting alone on the steps of his castle thinking about ariel / ariel lying on the rock (when she’s back to being a mermaid) looking at eric’s castle

eric looking up and seeing ariel in her blue dress petting max and he hugs her like he can’t believe she’s real and ariel hugs him so tight and they finally KISSSSS 😭🥰

the two of them getting to go off exploring the world together at the end and are just free to be who they are and go where they want TOGETHER

i could write even more but this is all off the top of my head.

I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!!!!

[babyflorencee]

Jealousy

Gilbert Blythe x fem!Reader

The sun dipped below the rolling hills of Avonlea, casting an amber glow across the landscape. Gilbert Blythe, with his characteristic disheveled hair and thoughtful gaze, strolled through the orchard, a place that had witnessed the blossoming of friendships and the unveiling of emotions.

Avonlea was abuzz with preparations for the upcoming fair, a festivity Y/n L/n held dear in her heart. As Gilbert walked past the vibrant stalls and fluttering banners, he couldn't help but notice the vivacity in Y/n's step, her eyes sparkling with an enthusiasm that painted the world in hues of her imagination.

Yet, beneath Gilbert's calm exterior, a storm brewed. A quiet jealousy, like an unexpected visitor, had taken residence in his heart. It wasn't the kind born out of malice but rather a realization of the changing dynamics between them.

Y/n, oblivious to the tempest within Gilbert, happily chatted with Cole and Diana, her laughter weaving into the summer breeze. As Gilbert observed from a distance, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing on the periphery of her universe.

His heart, usually steady as the Avonlea river, now raced with an unfamiliar cadence. Why did he feel this way? Gilbert grappled with the turmoil, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the fair's prize ribbon he held.

Later that day, under the canopy of stars, Gilbert found himself by the bridge, a place where moments unfolded like chapters in a story. The rhythmic sound of cicadas filled the air as Y/n approached, her gaze alighting upon Gilbert's contemplative silhouette.

"Hey, Gil. Are you alright?" Y/n inquired, a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

The words struggled to find their way out of Gilbert's mouth, but the truth, as elusive as it was, demanded expression. "Y/n, do you ever feel like things are changing, and you're not sure where you fit in anymore?"

Y/n’s brows furrowed, “Change is a constant, Gilbert. But you'll always have a place in my heart. In my world." With the last sentence that left her mouth, her eyes softened, feeling sadness for the boy standing by her.

His heart, still entangled with vines of uncertainty, yearned for more. With a breath held in the quiet night, Gilbert spoke the words that fluttered within. "Y/n, it's not just about the changing world. It's about me, about us. It's about what we could possibly be. I can't stand on the sidelines anymore, y/n. I want to be more than a distant star in your sky."

It was a balm to Gilbert's restless heart, and yet, a lingering question remained unspoken. As they stood on the bridge, the moon casting its silver glow upon the water, the bond between them seemed to shimmer with an understanding beyond words.

Y/n's eyes widened, finally realizing the gravity of his confession. "Gilbert..."

Before she could say more, he took a step closer, his hand cupping her cheek. "I can't hold back any longer," he admitted, and in the soft glow of moonlight, he kissed her.

Their lips met, a silent promise of untold emotions and uncharted paths. The orchard witnessed the quiet culmination of a friendship blossoming into something more, as the stars overhead continued their timeless dance. In that stolen moment, Gilbert and Y/n discovered a new chapter in the story of Avonlea—a chapter written with ink that glistened with spoken feelings.

[p0orbaby]

Hi, was wondering if you could write an Alessia Russo x fem reader where reader is a rugby player so Alessia for the first time is dating someone taller than her?

(A warning I did send this request to another page but that was six months ago so I’m assuming they are not gonna write it 😅. If it makes you uncomfortable let me know btw)

Different Perspectives

warnings: suggestive (who’d have guessed it)

a/n: rugby is not my bag but I hope you still like it!

word count: 780

-

Alessia is tall. That’s just a fact. Her presence on and off the football pitch isn’t just about skill; it’s accentuated by her stature. At five foot nine, she’s a force to be reckoned with, both in the competitive world of football and in the everyday challenges that come with being head and shoulders above the crowd.

Yet, amidst the cheers of the stadium and the victories on the pitch, she faces an unexpected challenge – a change in perspective that comes with falling in love. When she meets someone whose gaze meets hers without craning their neck, Alessia Russo, the formidable footballer, discovers the uncharted territory of being the small one in the relationship.

In the afterglow of another triumphant match, Alessia basks in the admiration of her teammates. As she catches her breath and revels in the crowd’s cheers, Katie leans against the stadium railing, grinning happily at their winning result. It doesn’t take her long to spot you, Katie nudges her playfully. “She’s tall,” Katie mentions, eyeing you from her spot. “Like, really tall”

Alessia glances at you, then smirks at Katie. “You’re the one stating the obvious, as always. Care to tell me why?”

Katie winks, “Just wondering what it’s like to have a partner who doesn’t need a step stool to reach the top shelf. Must be a nice change in direction for you”

Alessia laughs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, very funny. I’ll have you know that love isn’t measured in height”

Katie nudges her again, “I wonder if she’s brought binoculars. You know, just in case…”

Alessia sighs, shaking her head. “You’re enjoying this far too much for someone who’s about four inches shorter than me”

“That I am,” she admits. “What position does she play again?”

“Lock” Lessia answers readily.

“What are we talking about?” Another voice joins in on the conversation.

“Less’ talk drink of water over there” Katie informs, and Beth turns her head in the direction she’s pointing. “She's a lock, in case you were wondering”

“Ohh, tall and strong. You’re a very lucky girl Russo”

Alessia’s face inflames. Her cheeks turning red at her teammates teasing. “Thanks for that, you two. Really, just what I needed”

Katie smirks, “c’mon, don’t act like you’re not taking advantage of it! You were tall once, might as well cash in the credit you’ve banked over the years”

“Oh, yeah, because my life has obviously become one endless game of ‘can you reach that for me?’”

“Why not!” Beth exclaims. “I get Viv to do things for me all the time. ‘Hey babe, can you just grab this from the tippy top shelf? I can’t quite reach’”

“She gets validation, and you reap the rewards, if you get my gist” Katie winks.

“And that’s my cue to leave! I’m walking away now!” Alessia announces as she turns on her heels, heading towards you, more than ready to leave that conversation behind.

“There she is” you call when she’s close, “my talented girl”

She’s semi conscious of the way she has to tilt her neck upwards to kiss you. Imagining the girls teasing her behind her back. But when you grab the back of her neck to keep her right where you wanted her, all previous embarrassment fades away.

She loves the way you kiss the top of her head when you pull her in for a hug.

She melts at how your jacket swamps her shoulders when you wrap her up after games.

Hell, she’d even admit to how she secretly always wanted to be the little spoon.

There’s an ease to the way she fits into the curve of your embrace. A calm it brings to her that she didn’t realise she was missing out on.

“For the record, you wouldn’t be the only one benefiting from the rewards” you whisper into her mouth.

She pulls back, eyes wide as she looks up at you when you stand to your full height. “You heard that?”

You nod and hum, tucking some of her loose hairs behind her ear. “Your friends are painfully loud,” you laugh.

“I hate them,” she groans.

“No you don’t”. you say, the corners of your lips lifting in amusement. “Besides, you can’t tell me you haven’t at least thought about it”

She smirks, “Maybe a little, now they’ve mentioned it”

At her words you bend down and lift her up by the back of the legs. Her arms coming up to wrap around your neck. Whilst her legs sit on your waist.

“Me too,” you admit, letting the laughter settle into a comfortable silence as you hold her close, the gaggle of friends and fans fading into the background.

[missblissy]

Little Things! Astarion x Reader HCs

A/n: 😤😤 I’m just gonna say it, ya’ll don’t have enough casual domestic relationship headcanons in these tags. To much smut. Y’all need some water, come up for air or something good god I love y’all but drink some fucking water 😂 So have some HCs of Tav and Astarion in Act 1. GN! Tav with no class/race as always UwU Also thank you so much for all the likes and kind words on my last post! I plan on opening my requests soon so be sure to follow to stay updated on when that happens. 💖☺️ Enjoy!

Was it even possible for someone to be annoyed… and pleased at the same time? Could a contradiction even exist? Yes. It could. And it baffled Astarion. Sure you had a pretty face, a nice laugh, a way with words… A shimmer in your eyes… a crooked grin that barely broke a smirk… The faint and unmissable sound of your heart beat… A smell so signature he could pick it up in the subtle breeze.

Just with the shift of wind and now he was tossing and turning in his tent. Huffing and throwing his blanket over half his face. Thoughts racing with you now, all the way on the other side of camp and no where near him. Not even in his sight. And still you were in his mind.

How annoying. This was just a misguided, maybe even a malicious attempt at forging an alliance. So why did he feel so… bad? His red eyes couldn’t close so he just stared at the fabric wall of his tent. A blank but also bitter stare on his face.

Out of all the books he read, and he read a lot, none of them actually showed him what real was. What was real passion? Not the mask he wore. What was real conviction and adoration? All he knew was what he’s done for centuries. And this was nothing but uncharted and unfamiliar territory.

So why was it your delightful and diluted scent in the wind alone just enough to send him reeling? He couldn’t know, or didn’t dare to wonder.

These little things didn’t stop there. During the day you’d bounce up to him with a skip in your step… that equally would send a skip right into his ribs and tore up his lungs. With big bright eyes you’d show him something random, something you found, something you made… it didn’t matter.

Just the way you beamed with a radiant smile the sun could be jealous of, it was enough for a snide back handed comment that could be confused for a flirt, “Oh darling, for me? You shouldn’t have, you might just be one of my most devoted fans,” Normally a line like this worked. Either it would send the conversation towards the bedroom or someone left standing alone.

Neither happened. You just rolled your eyes, gave a little laugh and said, “A fan? In your dreams,” And go on chatting like before, unfazed by his little remarks. You were an enigma to him.

Especially during times after a battle. It was always such a gentle touch, when you’d place a hand on his shoulder and praise him for his good work and efforts in the battle.

If vampires had blood to blush he would. He didn’t understand why he wanted to hear more of it, “That was a good job you did out there today,” or maybe it was the way you said, “You did amazing,” He could listen to praises all day. He never knew how much he enjoyed them before.

Let’s not forget, he could hear your heartbeat. Not yours alone. Everyone had a different rhythm and rhyme. For instants Shadowheart, her heart was slow, sad, faint but still beating away with life. Astarion could hear it, just the same as Lae’zel who seemingly had no heart beat at all until the surprising thumb of it came every hour or so. He could hear yours too. Rattle away within your bones. And he paid close attention.

Normally these ‘skills’ of listening to hearts were used to hunt out a target for his master. But with no master and a band of fools, he still used these skills unbeknownst to himself.

He’d listen with eyes glued to a book. You’re heart pitter pattered like any other. But sometimes it’d start racing, picking up speed. Not to long ago a racing heart was the first step into picking a target, since the heart never lies and when a fool looked Astarion’s way if their heart sang that song he knew who would be his unfortunate soul.

But no, this time he just peered from over his book and watched you stare off into the distance, into the darkness of the woods. To his surprise there wasn’t a glance his way or even at anyone. Your heart only raced for fear it seemed. Even when you looked at him or shared a conversation, the same steady beat flowed.

It was something little like this, these little things only he knew as they festered in his mind. They ached within him. He hid it well but it wretched at his organs and plucked at his fibers every time. It was annoying. It was… wonderful…

It was terrifying. The way his breathe would catch when you’d ask him to join you. The way he actually felt anger, as petty as it was, when you asked him to stay back at camp.

Or maybe when he’d hear just the sound of your voice, distant on the other side of camp, muffled, not even loud enough to hear what you were saying but just enough to hear your voice. How strange that something so little as that was enough to ease him into sleep.

[x-uno]

Hey! Do you think you could make a OPLA!Zoro x reader but like fluff to angst something like that?? You can do whatever you want be creative :) thank you! XOXO

Silent Longing.

Pairing: OPLA!zoro x reader

| 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

In the quiet corners of our hearts, there often exists a hidden treasure, a secret admiration that we dare not speak aloud. It's a tale told in hushed tones, a whisper to the universe, a confession to no one but ourselves.

"You have to stop being stupid and risking your life, Y/N," Zoro grumbled, his gruff voice cutting through the stillness of the night. "You're lucky I saved your ass in time."

His words, though laced with irritation, were a stark reminder of the genuine worry he held for your well-being. 

You couldn't help but smile, a mix of gratitude and longing in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I guess I owe you one, Zoro."

He shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your words sinking in. "Just don't make a habit out of it. We need every hand on deck."

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against the railing of the Going Merry, gazing at the starry sky that stretched endlessly before you. "Heh, worried about me?"

Zoro, who had been standing nearby, turned his head away, his face hidden in the shadows. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not worried about you."

"Whatever you say, mosshead," you retorted, using the nickname you knew he secretly tolerated.

As the stars continued their silent dance overhead, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Zoro. His profile was bathed in moonlight, revealing the scars that adorned his rugged face. There was a magnetic allure to him, an irresistible enigma that had drawn you in from the moment you joined the crew.

In these moments of secret admiration, we become silent observers, watching from afar, admiring the beauty or brilliance that has captured our attention. We find ourselves drawn to qualities that resonate with our own desires and aspirations.

"You know, Zoro," you began, your voice soft, "sometimes I wonder if the Grand Line has as many mysteries as you do."

Zoro's eyes, ever watchful, shifted in your direction. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged, your gaze returning to the stars. "Just that you're a man of many layers, and I feel like there's so much about you I don't know."

A hint of a smirk played at the corner of Zoro's lips, though he still avoided making direct eye contact. "You think you can figure me out, Y/N?"

You chuckled, your heart feeling oddly light in this moment of vulnerability. "I don't know, Zoro. But I'd sure like to try."

In the days that followed, your interactions with Zoro remained a delicate dance of unspoken sentiments. The crew sailed through uncharted waters, facing perilous challenges and ferocious adversaries, yet the magnetic pull between you and the swordsman remained a constant presence.

There were moments when Zoro would surprise you, whether it was offering a hand to steady you on a rocky path or sharing a rare smile when no one else was looking. Those moments became the source of both your greatest hope and deepest despair.

"Y/N, watch your step," Zoro's voice broke through the tension in the air as you navigate the treacherous, narrow ledge on a seemingly endless mountain path. His strong hand reached out, fingers grazing your arm gently to ensure your balance.

You couldn't help but glance at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you, Zoro."

His gaze met yours for a fraction of a second before he turned away, his expression unreadable. "Don't mention it."

The ambiguity of his actions gnawed at your soul like a relentless storm. Did he see you as nothing more than a comrade? Or was there a chance, however slim, that he felt something deeper?

In the quiet of your own thoughts, you replayed those instances, dissecting each one for hidden meaning. But in the end, you couldn't escape the truth that hung over your heart like a storm cloud: Zoro's actions, no matter how seemingly significant, remained shrouded. 

-

"Zoro, do you ever wonder what keeps us going? What's the point of it all?"

"We have our goals. We chase them. That's all."

"But what about... other dreams? What if there's something or someone you care about more?"

He didn't answer right away, and you could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was like a blade, cutting through the silence.

"Dreams like that are for fools, Y/N. They lead to nothing but pain."

''Oh.''

But, of course, it was an inevitable truth that in the depths of our souls, unrequited love resided, an agonizing ache we concealed beneath stoic masks.. It's a silent longing that beats like a quiet drum, an unspoken declaration that remains locked within.

A  bittersweet melody that plays in the chambers of our hearts. We yearn for the love we give to be mirrored back, but fate has different plans. It's an unspoken story, a love unfulfilled, a heart that beats out of sync with the world.

 "But isn't pain a part of life, Zoro? It's what makes us feel alive, isn't it?"

Zoro clenched his jaw, frustration evident in his tense posture. "Feeling alive, huh? That's overrated. Life's about survival, not getting caught up in pointless emotions."

"But what if it's not pointless? What if it's what gives life meaning?"

Zoro's gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, it seemed as though he was about to reveal something hidden deep within himself. "Y/N, I've seen what happens when people get too attached to their dreams, to others. They lose focus. They get distracted. And then, they fall."

You felt a pang in your chest, a mixture of frustration and a growing sense of desperation. "But Zoro, isn't there something you care about? Someone you'd do anything for?"

Zoro's expression hardened, and he turned his gaze away from you. "I have my crew. They're my dream, my goal. Nothing else matters."

The silence hung heavy between you, a palpable tension that refused to dissipate. Your heart ached with the desire to break through Zoro's stoic exterior, to understand what lay beneath his tough facade.

"Zoro," You whispered, their voice barely audible, "sometimes, dreams change. Sometimes, they evolve into something more beautiful than we could have ever imagined. And sometimes, letting someone in doesn't make you weak; it makes you stronger."

Zoro's eyes flickered, a hint of vulnerability briefly surfacing before he buried it deep within. "I don't have time for distractions, Y/N. I won't let anything or anyone get in the way of my goal."

A tragedy it was, a love so profound it felt like both a blessing and a curse. To love someone with a depth that threatened to consume every fiber of your being, yet knowing that you could never truly be his was a torment that tore at the soul.

It was a love that coursed through your veins like a bittersweet poison, intoxicating your senses and clouding your judgment. Every stolen glance, every stolen moment, was a reminder of the forbidden nature of your desires. And yet, you could not help but yearn for more, to risk everything for the chance to be near them, to feel their presence like a lifeline in a world that seemed determined to keep you apart.

The very thought of  him was a constant ache, a haunting melody that played in the recesses of your mind. 

And yet, you knew that to pursue this love would be to court disaster, to dance on the precipice of ruin. The world had conspired to place insurmountable barriers between you, and the consequences of crossing those lines were too dire to contemplate.

So, you loved him in silence.

taglist: reply to be added !

© 2023 x-uno ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. 

[lolly-in-a-strange-land]

A:N: I read a Damian fic on here and got inspired. This is pretty much smut, please enjoy the terrible smut lol

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Technically, this whole situation was Rhea's fault, or so Sophie had told herself. She'd not worked for WWE for long and had prided herself on being the best personal assistant. The whole travelling aspect was fun and she got along great with her colleagues, but she'd managed to get herself into trouble. Again. It wasn't like she tried to do that. She was shy, unassuming even, not the type to cause unnecessary drama.

She'd heard Rhea call Damian 'Papi' and she'd done it in a jokey way, a way that had Sophie convinced it was some kind of term of endearment, or a nickname. She maybe should have asked Rhea, but she kept forgetting. And she kept forgetting to check her phone. It was sheer dumb naivety on her part.

So, when Sophie decided, in her inifinte wisdom, or stupidity, to call him that, the reaction wasn't a laugh or even a chuckle. He stared her down and she couldn't decipher that look. Had she just angered Damian Priest?

Maybe, it was a nickname that only Rhea got to call him, but she was naive enough to believe it was totally OK and she wasn't entering into dangerous, uncharted territory. If she was brutally honest, she really liked him, more than liked. Had a big, fat crush on would be more accurate.

Still, she persisted and he didn't stop her, which should have been a sign that she was treading on dangerously thin ice. She'd get a reaction at least now.

The second time she did it, he stared her down again, nostrils flaring slightly and pupils dilating. That was a look she'd not seen in all 24 years of life.

The third time, he'd stared her down again, making her feel all of her 5 foot height. And this time, he smirked at her. She'd blinked owlishly at him and blushed, scampering away again.

Clearly, she wasn't angering him. Good news, right? Wrong.

One Friday afternoon, she'd been sent on a mission to make sure the dressing rooms were fully stocked. The arena was quiet, save for a select few staffers, but they were all in the main area, setting up. She was alone, which was normal.

She'd walked into one of the dressing rooms, glancing around and making a list of needed items. Always waters for hydration, sports drinks for electrolytes. The door slammed and she startled, dropping the clipboard and whirling around.

Ah, crap. And suddenly she's alone in a room with Damian. He was blocking the only exit and her eyes widened. Why did it feel like she was in trouble?

"Sophie, you and I need to have a talk." He said, and that deep voice sent shivers down her spine.

Yeah, she was definitely in trouble. Her clipboard lay abandoned by her feet. She swallowed thickly and he stepped forward, eyes locked on her. She stepped back and her body bumped into the dresser. Ok, so she was bad at escaping.

"Talk about what?" She asked, softly.

"I think you and I both know what, Sophie." He said, tilting his head at her.

"No." She squeaked out.

"Callin' me papi." He said, and the way his voice curled around the word made her blush deepen. She was ready with the reason, or the excuse.

"Rhea calls you it. I'm sorry, I didn't realise that was her nickname for you. I thought it was cute." She said.

This changed things slightly and he smiled at that. She had no idea, clearly having never asked Rhea what the word meant, and the implication behind her calling him that. Rhea did it in a way that was jokey and very fitting with her slightly sarcastic humor.

But when Sophie stared up at him and called him it, Jesus Christ, it did things for him. This little mouse was responsible for many a cold shower. And she was completely unaware.

"Do you know what it means?" He asked.

And she thought for a moment. She clearly hadn't taken Spanish in high school. Her brow furrowed. And her eyes widened.

"It's offensive? Oh my God, I'm so sorry." She said, quickly.

A swing and a miss.

He sighed. God, this fucking girl. He'd told Rhea about the situation and predictably she'd laughed so hard, she'd nearly fallen over.

"Not offensive, no," He said, and Sophie's shoulders relaxed. Oh, thank goodness, she wasn't calling him something rude. "It means daddy in Spanish."

Double crap. Sophie's eyes widened again. She was calling him what now? Her lips parted, ready to apologise again.

"I'm so incredibly sorry." She said, and her cheeks went red.

He didn't look as offended as she'd been expecting. There was no anger there, just that look again. He stepped closer and she watched in a kind of a trance. He exuded the sort of confidence that made her heart pound and her mind turn to mush.

And he was in front of her, caging her against the dresser, all 6 foot 5 of him, staring down at her. Forget mush, her brain was leaking out of her ear now.

"You can still call me it, cariño," He murmured, and did he have to stare at her like that? "I would prefer it to be done in private, when we're alone together."

"W-when we're alone?" She squeaked out.

"Exactly," He said, and her skin prickled. "You can say it when my cock is inside you, cariño."

Oh God, Sophie almost choked on her own saliva. Did he just say that? He raised a brow at her stunned silence.

"I-i......um." Sophie mumbled.

"You see how context matters, Sophie. Every. Single. Time you call me papi, I get hard." Damian said, and he grinned when her cheeks went red again.

She nodded and stared down at her pink sneakers. Her gaze darted back up to his. She definitely wasn't about to leave this dressing room. His hand pressed against the wood of the dresser, stopping any ill conceived escape attempts.

"Sorry." She squeaked out again.

"Enough apologies, cariño," He said. "You have no idea how much I want to bend you over and fuck you right now."

And her mind stumbled over itself. Did he really just say that? The sudden heat of his touch on her thigh snapped her out of the daze she was in.

"W-what're you....?" She said, and the word 'doing' was lost. His hand slid up her thigh and she parted her legs.

Long fingers teased against the damp cotton of her panties. Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted in a shocked gasp.

"Such a good girl getting so wet for papi." He murmured.

And the ache in her lower tummy turned into an inferno. Her panties were quickly becoming soaked through. And she was aware she had just moaned his name. She didn't stop him from removing her panties.

Her stomach nearly bottomed out when he raised her panties, inhaling the scent. Ok, so that just happened. She hadn't predicted any of this today. He stuffed the panties in the back pocket of his leather pants, refocusing on her again.

"Spread your legs, cariño." He commanded.

Sophie nodded and she felt the blush again as it spread down her cheeks, making her freckles more severe. Her skirt hiked up and she was aware that her wetness was seeping down onto the dresser.

His fingers found her pussy and she gasped when two of them entered her, curling and searching. She looked at Damian and her blush deepened when he looked at her again. Fingers finally finding what he was looking for, that sweet spot within her. She gasped and exhaled the sweetest cry.

"There you go, Sophie. Like that?" He murmured.

"Please....oh, God," She whined as his fingers started to move, curling inside her sopping cunt. "P-please, papi."

"That's it. Good girl," He smirked. Her hips bucked against his fingers. "Got to get you ready for me, cariño, break you in for me."

Sophie squealed at that. Her body was rioting. He was sending her into spasms of pleasure. Something was building, definitely her own orgasm. Her head tipped back, resting against the wall and her back arched. White dots flashed before her eyes as he nudged her straight into a very intense orgasm that had her moaning his name.

His fingers slid out of her and she watched him suck the release off, tilting his head and pinning her with a very hungry look. Her legs felt like jello and escape was the last thing she wanted. No, she wanted the man she'd had a crush on to keep on touching her, to keep whispering filth to her in that deep voice of his.

He tugged his top off, tossing it aside. She was getting a close up look at the muscles and tattoos. Her cheeks flooded with color again. The sight of him sent more heat flooding downwards. He kneeled before her and her eyes widened as he hooked her legs over his broad shoulders.

"D-damian, please..." She whispered.

Oh God, he was face to face with her. Shaving wasn't something she did. She neatened it all up because an irrational part of her was scared of cutting herself and she was too scared to wax. His gaze lifted to look at her and he must have sensed the embarrassment radiating off her.

"Sssh, cariño," He murmured, kissing her inner thigh. "Let papi take care of you."

Good lord.

Her eyes almost rolled back as he started to eat her out. His tongue dragged up her cunt towards her clit, teasing the small bud. Her lips parted and she cried out. Her hands gripped the edge of the dresser, white knuckling it.

Sloppy was the only way to describe it. He was practically making out with her pussy, sending her free falling into a pleasurable abyss. Her hips bucked against his face and he groaned. She stopped because she was afraid of her own need, but she squeaked when Damian reached up, hands sliding under her ass and encouraging her to move.

He groaned again when she started humping his face, moans spilling from her parted lips. Her release was building again and she was about to climax all over his face. She tried to hold back, but he was determined to send her over the edge. His mouth left her pussy briefly.

"Come on, cariño, cum for papi." He murmured.

Her legs were shaking and she was almost there. She just needed to give into it, give into him. He was so fucking hard it hurt and he couldn't resist diving back into devouring her again.

"I-i can't stop it.....I-i....oh my God, Damian." She squealed. It echoed off the walls of the dressing room.

Her back arched again and she couldn't hold it back any longer. Her orgasm rushed forward with the force of a freight train. Her legs almost squeezed his head and the rush of relief was intense. Her breathing was ragged and after 2 orgasms, her body felt like a puddle of goo.

Damian pulled back from her pussy, looking up at her. He'd enjoyed that, definite highlight of the day. He was loathe to wipe a hand across his mouth because the taste of her was a heady, intoxicating thing.

He stood up and cupped her face, taking a moment to appreciate the blush on her delicate features and the way her doe eyes were hazy with pleasure.

"So beautiful." He whispered.

"You are too," She mumbled, and he'd never been called beautiful by anyone, and it mattered all the more that is was Sophie. She hesitated, misinterpreting his look again, as she had done for the past two weeks, apparently. "I mean, handsome. Really handsome."

"Thank you, Sophie," He replied, tilting her head so she'd look up at him. "I'm goin' to fuck you now. Fill your tight little pussy with my cock."

Her eyes widened and she nodded. She wanted that, needed that. Her anxiety and insecurity suddenly reappeared, like a spectre and her gaze lifted to look up at him again.

"This all felt really good," She said, and she exhaled a shaky breath. "I'm enjoying it."

Her words were laced with a hint of finality. Did she honestly believe this would be a one time thing?

"Do you think you're only getting one fuck, cariño?" He asked, and she shrugged, shyly. "No, you're mine. Papi doesn't do one night stands."

She smiled at that and her doe eyes shone in the dim light of the dressing room. His hand cupped her cheek as he leaned down, claiming her soft lips.

Sophie could taste herself on his lips and she pressed herself closer, surrendering to the kiss and letting him coax her lips apart. His tongue teased against her lips and she parted them for him. She moaned softly, the sound absorbed by the kiss. It was OK to touch him, to drape her arms over his broad, tattooed shoulders. He made a sound of approval when her body squished against his.

The need for air had become too much and their lips parted. She heard the metal scrape as he lowered the zipper and tugged his pants and boxers down enough to free himself.

Sophie risked a look down. And her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Good lord. He was long, thick and there was a bead of precum leaking from the tip. It was an incredibly erotic sight, one that had her knees trembling again.

"This is all for you, cariño. Every fucking inch." He murmured.

Any and all self-control was gone. It was tenuous at best when she'd started calling him papi and it evaporated completely once he'd got her alone. He gripped himself, pressing the tip against her soaked cunt.

It was easy for the head to sink into her. The two orgasms had helped with that. Sophie gasped and he pushed in a little more, groaning as her tightness enveloped him. Her eyes watered a little at the stretch and fullness. There was a stinging sensation and she swallowed a little sob that wasn't missed by him.

"Damian, it stings." She whispered, and she tensed up, anticipating the pain.

He knew he wasn't small, not by any means. He was 6 foot fucking 5 and in proportion, but Sophie was 5 foot. She always insisted she was 5 foot 1, but she definitely wasn't. She was tiny and delicate. He rubbed her lower tummy, gently, soothing her.

"Sssh, cariño, breathe for me." He said, and she nodded.

Her gaze lifted and her eyes met his. He cupped her cheek, keeping that connection with her as she slowly relaxed and he pushed all the way in. And good fucking lord, she was tight and wet.

The pleasure that blossomed from being filled sent Sophie back into that abyss. Her lips parted and she exhaled a moan. He needed to move, she needed to feel him.

"P-please, papi." She begged because she wasn't above begging him now.

"Use your words, Sophie." He growled.

"M-move, please. Need you." She pleaded.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and he groaned. Yeah, fuck self-control again. He pulled out and then thrust forward, making her squeal his name.

His hands gripped her thighs, those full beautiful thighs that he'd imagined wrapped around his head as he devoured her cunt, and his hips as he fucked her. He groaned and started to fuck her.

Sophie, for her part, was a whimpering mess as he pounded into her, taking her in deep, harsh strokes of his hips. His mouth found her neck and he bit her.

Sophie tilted her head to the side and allowed herself to be marked. Tears stung her eyes and she could hear herself moaning and crying out his name.

"Like that, Sophie? Like papi fucking you?" He groaned again.

"Y-yes, I.....oh....love it." She moaned again.

"You needed this, didn't you, cariño." He growled against her neck.

"Harder." She whined.

She felt him smirk against her skin and he fucked into her, taking her like a wild animal and making the dresser bang against the wall. Her pussy made a squelching noise every time he thrust into it and it was the most obscene thing Sophie had ever heard.

The room smelled of sex and she was spiraling again, plummeting towards her third orgasm. He dragged her closer, forcing her to buck against him, grunting against her neck.

"Good girl. Taking my cock so well." He murmured.

"'M gonna cum, papi." She moaned.

Damn right, she was. One of his hands grasped her ass cheek under her skirt and the other slid between their bodies, finding her clit and giving her exactly what she needed.

Her cries increased and she moved against him with an urgency that had him almost finding his own release. But he wanted her to cum first. Her back arched and her head tipped back, eyes closing.

He felt her pussy flutter around his cock and she came all over him, squirting hard. Her hips spasmed clumsily as she found her release. It was his name she was moaning and fuck, it was hot.

Holding back was difficult when her cunt clenched around him, sending him over the edge too. He groaned her name against her neck, the sound deep and masculine as his hips rutted into her, filling her.

Sophie flopped against him and she felt the hand on her ass move as he stroked her hair, whispering praise into her ear. Every need had been tended to in a way she wasn't expecting.

"Damian?" She mumbled.

"Sophie." He murmured.

"What does cariño mean?" She asked.

"It means darling, because you are my darling." He whispered, kissing her neck.

She giggled softly and her feet kicked a little. Leaving her when she felt this good and was clinging to him felt like a crime.

"Don't go." She whispered.

"I'll find my way back to you, cariño," He said. "I'll find you at the end of the night and you'll have me for as long as you want."

"OK." She mumbled.

Reluctantly, he slid out of her and tucked himself back into his pants. She slid off the dresser and adjusted her clothing. She picked up his top, handing it to him. He took it, using it to tug her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled and blushed again. Her doe eyes lifted to look at him.

"Can I have my panties back?" She asked.

"Not going to let papi keep them as a souvenir?" He teased, and she giggled.

"No, I'll feel a breeze and it'll be super embarrassing." She protested.

He laughed at that reasoning and handed her the panties back. She put them back on and they left the dressing room together.