#and it’s not always easy so it’s not a nice ending tied up in a bow

[cupcakeinat0r]

Another Valentine's w/ Dadbod!Miguel

It’s that time of year again; A day you so dreaded turned into one of your favorite days of the year: Valentine’s. 

And even though you insist on telling each other you ‘won’t be getting each other anything’ because ‘all you need is each other’, both parties buy gifts anyway (and let’s face it; his were always pricier. The man’s a scientist.) 

Like the year prior, you cooked him breakfast in bed wearing something that was very much short-lived and ended up on the floor, ripped, before he even got to the toast. 

Having taken off from work, especially for the holiday, the both of you then rest in bed, the midday sun cascading across the bedroom floor. Just like last year, he’ll big spoon you, the plush of his stomach against your back and rumbling along with his rich chuckles. Just like last year, you two will snicker in bed, because he’s just murmured in your ear how he’ll need to renew that gym membership if you keep cooking for him like this; how his New Year’s resolutions are impossible with you around. But then he’ll immediately thank you, not for just loving him through food, but for being his rock; he would’ve never eaten this good before you. He would intertwine his fingers with yours under the sheets, the size difference in them endearing. Just like last year. 

After an accidental nap, Miguel groggily mutters in your ear how he’s gotten reservations somewhere nice and that he’s been wanting to take you. Here’s the kicker: it was in 30 minutes. 

“What?!” you jump out of bed and instantly retreat to your closet. Easy for him to stay calm, all he had to do was comb back those black curls of his, dress those muscles, and be ready to go. 

Miguel waits for you in the bedroom, announcing the time you have left through the bathroom door. When he hears your haste voice through the wall, he smiles to himself. 

His eyes wander, and maybe too far, because he finds a notebook. Curious and mindlessly looking for something to do while you finish getting ready, he goes to it and reads through it. It’s fine since there’s no secrets between you; you go into each other's things all the time. 

It doesn’t take too much reading to realize it’s a journal; your journal.  He remembers you mentioning wanting to start for this new year. A little part of him knows he shouldn’t… but the curiosity was killing him. He looks back at the door for a moment, ensuring you’re still occupied.

He turns to the book and resumes reading, but it’s not as wholesome as the first few entries.

His face falls, a certain, familiar wave of heat passing through him as he reads your handwriting. 

This entry was all about him. 

You two had just made love, and you raved about how romantic and tender it was, going into details of how sweetly he treated you. And you also praised the rougher side of Miguel; how he took control in bed, how his strength kept you in a trance, and that body…

You went on to list the many things you wanted Miguel to do to you. Bashfully written secrets of love kept away, in hopes that maybe, through manifestation, they’ll come true, rather than being upfront and telling him what you want. How you wanted to experiment with taking the control for a night, maybe making the entire performance be about his pleasures for a change. To kiss up his thighs and the little pudge of his stomach, until he was rock solid, placing kisses there as well until he was too worked up to resist begging. How you want to experiment with food and maybe use his entire torso as a plate for your enjoyment. 

‘Whipped cream off his chest and tummy… GAWD. I need a moment. Goodnight.’ was how the entry was sealed.

There was also mentions of wanted to be choked by him, tied, and other various things that Miguel would otherwise be shocked coming from you.

Miguel stares down at the notebook baffled. He knew you loved his body the way it was… but he guess he just didn’t realize how much. 

“Okay, baby, I’m ready. You got the-” a perplexed Miguel turns around to you, your notebook in his hand, and you immediately want to crawl in a hole.

“Miguel,” your voice shakes with shame, bracing yourself for an unbearably embarrassing response, ”How much of that did you read?”

Miguel’s lips curl into a wicked smile. 

“Whipped cream?” his brow quirks.

“Oh… so that much, huh?” he sheepishly nod. You’re stuck where you stand.

Miguel walks with purpose and ease until he’s right in front of you, his frame demanding the lift of your head and guilty gaze.

“Mamita, there’s no need to be hiding this stuff from me.” the tone of his voice is nothing but nurturing and reassuring.

You smile softly up at him, grateful that he at least isn’t disgusted by your twisted mind. Desperate to change the subject, you look at the time, “We can talk later, but aren’t gonna be late?” You ask in hopes he’ll take the bait.

“Late to where?”

Miguel’s hands find the flesh of your hips, giving them a light squeeze, pulling you closer to the plush of his muscles. The small yet dominant gesture making your heart flutter,

“We’re staying right in this room.” 

And he made alllllll your dreams come true in one night. 

Happy Valentine's Day <3 xoxo

[herawell]

.

[muntitled]

No Promises

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader

Summary: “So hypothetically, what would you do if I told you the condom broke-”

Warnings: Language, Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst, Himbo!Jake, Nerd!Reader, Smut +18 (minors dni) Dom!Jake, Pussy Drunk Jake, He really wants kids, Breeding Kink, Humping, Grinding, Slight Dub/Con, Unprotected Sex, Dub/Con Raw Sex, Perv!Jake, Rough Sex, Forceful Breeding, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Unedited

I'm ovulating

Jaeyun's head is filled to the brim with unsavoury business as he shuffles through the university office.

'It's simple,' Jake says to himself as he cradles the rugby ball under his arm. 'Not. A big deal.'

Once Jake enters the university office, he is immediately bombarded by the smell of old, academic wood. Here, the less crowded, air conditioned space is a nice breakaway from the sweltering rugby field, but all that plagues Jake’s mind are the overwhelming memories of you.

Specifically, you last night, bathed under the sweet honey glow of your cheap salt lamp. His lips on yours as you straddled him on the floor. Skin everywhere.

Jaeyun still remembers his tongue meshing against your own, all he tasted was the ruddiness of white wine.

The pillow forte you were initially building in the living room lay forgotten around you, instead, the space became a lovenest with the moon staring idly from beyond your cream blinds.

"Ride me," Jake breathed out with his mouth attaching itself to the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. He drifted your braids out of the way, letting his hand massage your scalp as he craned your neck backwards.

"I need to see you ride me." His voice was hoarse as he manoeuvred you to straddle his hips.

He remembers the texture of the string of beads tied around your waist.

He remembers the air leaving his lungs when you lowered your heat to his cock.

He remembers not being able to stop.

"Did you buy the condoms," you had asked the diabolical question, right when he was about to get it in.

"Fuck the condoms…" he laughed dryly with his thumb skimming across your hips, bumping against the waist beads, "We're both clean. I wanna feel you."

Jake had been wholly disappointed to see your face harden into that pissed off look that was always aimed at the students you tutored.

He'd be scared if he didn't find it hot.

"That's so incredibly unfunny," you pushed at his chest until he released a winded breath, "Don't piss me off, Jaeyun,"

"Fine- fuck- I was kidding,"

He wasn't. And even when he slipped the condom on and slipped inside, Jake became delirious with pleasure of it all.

"Where do you want me to cum?" he had asked.

Naive, unsuspecting you, had replied, “Inside. Y-You're wearing a condom, right? Inside.” Jake fucking lost his mind all the same.

The evening had ended with Jake skimming his hand over the fullness of your ass as he pulled his bottom lip against his teeth.

He watched the softness of your skin mould under his grip as he snickered, "She gon' take it up the ass like a ventriloquist-"

"Do not quote Kanye at me after we just had sex." You groaned.

But Jake wasn't done because now he was thinking about your ass and you'd both gone on for 2 more rounds.

'It's easy,' says present-day-Jake, shaking his hair as if to clear away the thoughts before they took root and really became a problem for him.

His little inner pep talk guides him to the receptionist desk. 'Just tell her the condom snapped and I may have cum a little inside. It's not my fault I'm fucking huge,' but even just the thought of it has Jake warming with anxiety.

"Good morning, Jake!" It's not difficult to plaster on his golden boy smile for the receptionist. Everyone at this University buys the absolute shit he sells, never once questioning their star athletes true intentions behind his disarming smile. He could get away with murder.

"Morning," Jake replied, knocking on the wood of the large mahogany desk. All this mahogany and yet all he could smell was you. Cocoa Butter was an all consuming thing.

"Is she in?" He asks, prompting the receptionist to nod. As Jake walks down the mouth of a corridor leading to the offices of tutors, professors and assistant professors, he keeps his head bowed until he reaches your door.

When you let him into the empty office, all thoughts vanished. Storming in his mind were solutions as to how he might divulge his little slip-up.

"Keep the door open, Jake, I don't do scandals." He was enamoured at the sight of you seated behind the large brown desk with your eyes dark and sleepy. Jake already tried to work out the probability of you remaining calm at the knowledge that the condom he used last night had been breached but looking at you here, he knew there was no possible reality in which you wouldn't try to murder him.

He closes the door despite your words and all you do is look up from your paper and sigh.

Seduction, he decided, was his only defence.

“Is there a reason you're bothering me at work?”

"Didn't know assistant professors got their own offices," he says, dropping the rugby ball in a corner beside a stack of mind-numbing philosophy manifestos.

"We don't," you say, never looking up from your paper, "I don't know how long I'm gonna have this space to myself to mark in peace, that's why we have to be quick-

"Quick," Jake's head snaps up, "I can do quick."

Instead of taking note of your eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, Jake instead focuses on the expanse of your cleavage spilling out of that diabolically tight v-neck. "The conversation, Jake. What do you want? I have essays to mark." You drop the papers in a huff of unbridled academic frustration, effectively giving Jake the opening he needs to walk towards your desk until he's behind your chair. His hands drift over your shoulders, kneading the tense skin until your head is rolling back, away from the work.

"I thought you'd be happy to see your boyfriend,” he loved referring to himself as ‘boyfriend’, it made him secure in his role. “I have an inter-uni game to catch with the boys but I'm gracing you with my presence instead," your eyes flutter closed as you relax back into the security of Jake's hands.

"You really don't have to talk, babe,"

"But this place is so suffocating," Jake huffs, letting his eyes drift over the dark and dreary room flooded with books, papers, old, depressing paintings of old depressing philosophers. "I can feel myself getting smarter just being here. It's disgusting."

You hum as Jake's thumb drifts under the thin fabric of your v-neck, kneading into the tissue surrounding your shoulder blade. "It's almost like there's more to campus than just the rugby field," your him bleeds into a moan as Jake fingers prod at a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I had no idea," he says with mock sarcasm. You chuckle lightly as you let Jake's fingers coax you into a much needed break. The peace is a welcome getaway from the tedium that came from fixing grammatical issues and spelling errors.

Jake's left hand continues to knead at your back while his right drifts to the front of your neck. He could've been a chiropractor in his past life, Jake thinks idly as he cups the base of your throat until he's turning your head to match his ministrations.

"Fuck," that tiny sound leaving your mouth does everything to focus Jake's attention down on you. His eyes are hooded as he watches you seated before him and he's all too aware of the fact that this angle allows him to see down your top, into the pillowy expanse of your cleavage.

Jake pushes his hardening cock against the back of your high back chair as he continues to massage your back and neck.

And sure, maybe his hand may drift a little lower down your chest while the other continues to work at your neck.

You almost don't catch him when he says, "So hypothetically what would you do if I told you the condom broke-"

Your eyes snap open and you try to rid yourself of Jake's hands but the hand drifting against your cleavage cages you to the chair. No running.

"What the fuck is wrong with you lately?! Did I not tell you I would rather die than let you inject me with your evil spawn-"

Something dark settles on Jake's face as he stops his ministrations.

There's a moment of disorientation before you realise that Jake spun your chair to face him. One hand on the back of the chair as he leans down, with your faces far too close for it not to be inappropriate.

"Would it really be so bad?" He whispers, before tilting his head to slot his mouth against yours.

Luckily your senses are heightened but still rational as you push him away, effectively standing up to create more distance between you two.

Jake, however, sees your plan and instead of letting you act it out, he slots you in between himself and the desk. Your butt pressing against the edge of the wood so there was no escape.

"No Jake," you say in frustration because now Jake's hands were pawing at your hips like he usually did when he was coaxing you into being as horny as he was. "Getting me pregnant wouldn't just be bad-"

"Perfect," he says, dipping down to place a kiss on your collar bone, "So we agree-"

"It'd be catastrophic. I'd abort it immediately." Jake's hands curl into your hips and you watch under furrowed brows as Jake begins to fiddle with the drawstring of his shorts.

"You're catholic," he says before dipping down to undo the buttons of your jeans. "You're not aborting my baby."

You think your boyfriend is utterly delirious, but even more harrowing is the bit of molten attraction stirring in the bottom of your stomach at seeing him so sure of something. So in charge.

His bare arms are glistening from playing rugby under the sweltering sun and his skin has that honey tint that drove you feral with lust.

You hated the urge that plagued your mind to push your thighs tightly together but Jake immediately stops you. He pushes your jeans down, leaving you standing dumbly with your mouth hanging open as he slots himself between your legs. You try to wriggle yourself away but Jake keeps you locked with his hands framing your sides.

"Last night was hot, yeah?" He huffs with his shorts hanging lazily under the bulge of his Calvin Kleins. He presses himself against you, moaning straight into the crook of your neck.

"J-Jeez, Jake," you whimper, unable to stop yourself from lifting your hips to meet his grinding, "Y-You're disturbing me from work-" speaking was growing very difficult, especially because Jake was unclipping your bra from behind. "Cus all you think about is sex-"

"All I think about is sex with you." He clarifies as wriggles you out of the v-neck.

"I don't think that's a crime-" he says, immediately cupping your breasts in his large hands as he pushes his cock further against you. Jake throws his head back before huffing and puffing while he stares down at you needily humping against him.

"You say you don't want it," he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip as he lifts his shirt, "but you're like a pup in heat, babe,"

"F-Fuck, if we're gonna do this, hurry before anyone comes," the words are like music to his ears and his exposed stomach flexes as he hurriedly pulls down his boxers.

You help him out of his shirt, and both your movements are so heated, so clumsy, you don't think you've ever been this wet.

"Fuck- you gotta be quick, big boy, before someone comes, yeah?" You repeat, knowing your boyfriend became completely unresponsive and pussy drunk during sex. Jake hums in weak response, far too focused on jerking himself off…the head of his cock periodically bumping against your clothed cunt.

"Say you want this dick- c'mon, say it-" he urges with heavy eyelids and all the fight is wiped out of you. You lean back, opening your legs to accommodate him further between you and Jake only groans as he jerks his cock.

"J-Jake, you can't cum in me, yeah-"

"Come on, bro," he groans as he brings his hand in between your legs. “Still?!”

His fingers prod at your clit as your hips stutter to meet his hand. "I'm just tryna get it in, why are you being like this?"

You manage to slip out a scoff in between your moaning.

"Y-You're not 'getting it in' until you divulge what on earth you're thinking about that has you this fucking feral." he was operating on neandthral level need and you needed to know what the cause of it was. You needed to know what had your boyfriend so strung out on your body, on the scent of you, at the sight of you.

You want this Jake all the time.

"You're so pretty," he mumbles, instead, with his gaze locked firmly on your cunt. He swipes your panties aside, unwilling to part with the cute pink material yet and you arch your back, inviting him in.

"If I tell you what I'm thinking about…" he says, lining his cock up with your cunt. Your entire back now pressed supine against the desk, "You'll end up pregnant before the end of the day," Jake concludes his statement by ramming his cock into your cunt, effectively lodging all your complaints in the back of your throat. The desk creaks as he continually rams his cock into you in viscous, rough thrusts.

He's a panting mess, watching your body contort in pleasure as your breasts jiggle with every thrust.

"Oh my fucking g- fuck-" Jake hovers over you, never once slowing his movements even when he tweaks your nipples.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that? Taking this dick so fucking good-"

You clench around him, loving how vulgar he got whenever you had sex. His hair is already messy but it becomes even more so when you drag your fingers through it, discarding the hair tie that kept his black curls rained to the back.

"Oh my god, baby, you're such a slut-" he lets his words slip and it only turns you on more and more as you drag him down for a sloppy kiss. Your hips rise to meet his thrusts, willing your orgasm to crest.

"B-Baby-” he pants, “Pretty Baby, I need to tell you something-" the second those words left his mouth in sloppy succession, your alarm bells were ringing. Even more so when he dipped his hands between your body until he was rubbing furious circles against your clit.

"J-Just, shh, Jakey, I'm close-"

"The condom broke, last night-"

Your hips still, but his continue to fuck into you- continues to rub at your clit until your body can't help but obey.

"WHA- OH FUCK, JUST LIKE THAT-" your seeing stars when the tip of Jake's cock rams against that particular pillow of nerves. "F-Fuck Jakey."

He was still your Jakey and he took that as a sign to continue fucking into you with reckless abandon.

"Gonna fill you up with my cum, again princess?"

"Jake-"

"Yesterday when you were riding me," he says in harsh staccato. His breath is rough and rugged. "A-And your hips were moving just right and your tits- God those tits." He leans back to watch them jiggle underneath them and Jake's balls squeezes in warning. "I just-" his voice cracks as he whines, "I just needed to flood you with my cum, baby-" your cunt squeezes his cock once more and you're both dangerously close to the edge.

"H-Here-'' he says, bringing your hand up to his throat. "Choke m-me, I think I'm gonna cum." His words alone have your back arching off the desk, slipping into your own orgasm.

“J-Jake-” Somehow you still muster the energy to choke him like he wants and that has his hips stuttering and the praises flying from his lips as he says, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming for you, Angel. You're milking my cock- babe-" his hips ram into yours as his eyes squeeze shut. Jake's caught in the ultimate pleasure as he imagines everything from your tits swelling with milk, to him fucking you while you were pregnant.

"O-Oh my fucking god," the amount of cum leaking out of his cock threatens to push him out of you, and you're both huffing in the quiet office air.

Soon you're both hurtling down to your current reality, but still, Jake keeps his hand on your hips, listening to your heartbeat.

"If you really don't want one - I'll go get you a plan b right now-"

"W-wait," you stop him from leavi⁷ng, "Let's... talk about it later. No promises."

Jake smiles, "No promises.”

[bluetimeombre]

˚ · . Nothing fucks with my baby, ˚ · .

You are Hugh's young controversial girlfriend

[FINALLY! it's here, I have kept you all waiting, I hope I haven't disappointed! I said in the other posts that I wasn't gonna do much smut but I think I went more than even I thought. Got me blushing and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy, I'm still riding this Hugh train (want to be riding him) who said that?]

warnings: older man! younger reader! fem!reader. Not proof read. Smut! Penetration, riding, oral (both receiving) praise kink,

Only a bed separated you and Hugh.

"Ok, so we're gonna pick it up from where we left it last time," said the director. "Get ready."

Hugh was in black clad trousers, shirtless, 'sweat' that was really water sprayed. His hair was already messy, perfectly so as if you'd been running your hands through it.

You still had a robe on, your makeup artist touching the highlight to be 'sweat' while Hugh watches every sway of the brush on your cheeks.

The scene was this: Hugh's character seduces yours. Well, there was seduction on both ends, characters or not. It was the first kiss, the first sex scene, the first true intimacy between your two characters. It was hot, heavy, sensual and loving. It was supposed to be all gripping hands and racing pulses, moving bodes and fumbling lips.

But it was the first kiss scene you'd share with Hugh. There'd be plenty more to come, but the director thought it would capture the true emotions of your characters to get it first try.

"Yummy," whispered your makeup artist in your ear as she leant over, slowly un-doing the ties of your robe.

"Play nice," you mutter to her.

"You don't," she winked before parting with your robe, leaving you in your silk nightgown that fell mid-thigh.

Hugh gulped, his eyes raking over you as you smiled. Your nerves were sky high, but Hugh seemed already in character.

He played the groundskeeper in 1930's Britain, best friend of your 'father', playing blackmail and seducing his daughter. You. And boy was it easy for Hugh Jackman to seduce you.

The cast and crew had been great at making the both of you comfortable and you'd all been for dinners, lunch's, cast parties, yoga sessions. They'd done everything to make it comfortable. And it had worked. You and Hugh got on like a house on fire, always around, always laughing. But there were the lingering looks once the laughter died, or the 'goodnights' that lasted longer than appropriate, and the touches, the constant excuse for it.

Maybe it was because you were young, alluring to a man not long divorced from an almost thirty year marriage. Maybe it was because he was everything you ever wanted, but you had a feeling lines were going to be crossed. The pit in your stomach was either dread... or desire.

"Right, all set?" the director asked.

Hugh smiled, patted his thighs and nodded.

You flashed a smile too but wiped your palms down your dress, un-knowingly shuffling it on your chest.

Hugh caught the movement and gulped. He was screwed.

"Action!"

You watched as Hugh, in character, stalked toward you. As scripted, you took a step back, hitting the bedpost but kept his gaze. You were a headstrong character, and you could do that, even if your knees felt weak.

"You er, get dressed for me, pretty girl?" he asked. He slipped his fingers through the strap, fingers caressing your skin.

Your shiver wasn't scripted and as Hugh's eyes flickered to your own, you wondered if he knew that. "You should go."

"Your pa's not home."

"My mother is," you whispered, standing taller on the bed post as if you weren't afraid.

He smirked and dragged the strap down until he could see your bare shoulder. His eyes flickered back up to yours. "Wendy's a nice woman. She doesn't expect much."

A furrow in your brows, as planned. "How dare you-"

Hugh kissed you with such force your head came back to hit the bedpost but his hand was already cupping the back of your head, easing the thump as he pressed you against it.

It wasn't scripted.

His lips were as soft as they looked, mixed with the gruffness of his stubbly beard that dragged over your chin as he dived into you like a man starved of breath. You obeyed his every move, every tilt of his head you followed.

His teeth sunk into your lip and your gasped. His tongue dipped in, meeting yours gently asking for permission.

You grabbed his cheeks, drawing back enough to get a look at him. There was a wild frenzy in his eyes causing them to go darker, but beneath that you saw his concern, his worry that he'd gone to far.

Whether this was acting or not, you didn't care.

You drew him back in, lips smacking as passion pulled both your strings. He groaned as you obeyed him, body flattening against yours.

His hands raked down your shoulders, taking the straps with you as you gasp and shiver. The gown wasn't supposed to come off but at that rate, you didn't care if it slipped a little. Hugh's hands moved down your sides, to your hips, gripping the material and bunching it.

"You," he gasped against your lips.

He met your gaze and you smirked, challenging him. Luckily, it could all work in character.

You had no knickers or anything on. It was all to easy to see the line in the dress if you did.

Hugh groaned and brought your head back to his, tongue wasting no time in sweeping into your mouth, tasting every corner and marking it as your own.

He spun you around until he was against the bed, his knees buckling and falling, you in his lap.

He groaned into your mouth, loud enough for the microphone above you to hear. Your lips paused on his, hands crawling into his hair as you felt it.

He was hard, so incredibly hard.

Hugh's eyes were scrunched shut as you backed away a fraction, his tongue licking at his lips for a taste of you. Your hair was starting to stick to your head from real sweat.

His trousers were pulled over his crotch, highlighting the size of him as your mouth watered and your thighs tightened on him. His gaze was hooded as he watched you in silent awe.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you pressed yourself against him, feeling every ridge through the tiny fabric of your nightgown. God, he couple feel every warmth of you. How much you wanted him.

He pecked your lips and brought your bottom lip out with his teeth. From the cameras and the lights and the amount of people in the room, the sweat on the two of you started to be real, mixed with your pants and soft moans that weren't necessary for the scene but needed to pass between the two of you.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shoulders as your rocked yourself onto him, grinding onto his clothed crotch to feel something.

Hugh kept one hand on the back of your neck, occasionally drifting into your hair and tugging with every rock of your hips.

You wondered if the director would ever call cut and you hoped he never would. If it all ended here. Your only consoling thought was the amount of intimacy scene's you and Hugh would have to share together.

He grabbed you and rolled you over as planned until you were flat, chest heaving with breaths and he was kneeling over you. His hands went to his belt, twiddling to undo it.

In a frenzy of passion, your hands reached out to help, grazing his bulge. He watched you as he finally un did the belt and your nails scraped down his thighs.

Hugh loomed over you, grinding down into your cunt until he could feel how wet you were, his lips coming to your shoulder. He didn't have to bite, but he seemed satisfied with it.

"Cut!" called the director.

Your hands halted where they were in his hair and Hugh fell against you, caging you to the bed as you both panted.

"Well done, guys, that was great, you got it over and done with. Now for the rest of them, but that'll come gradual," said the director as both Hugh's and your team came to the bed.

Still, neither of you moved.

"Gradual, yeah," you panted, your hands still stroking back Hugh's hair until you realised what you were doing.

Hugh kissed your shoulder once before rolling from you and taking the robe offered to him. You took things slower, knees weak at just the memory of him.

You took the robe and wrapped yourself up.

Hugh glanced back at you, not once, twice.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

You’d thought about it all day. Even as you half-heartedly did the rest of the scenes for the day. Your head was only half on set, the other half focused on the feel of Hugh under you.

In your trailer that night you played your music, gripping your hair in one hand and riding your hand with the other, trying to re-make the magic of feeling him under you.

God, how wrong it was. He was your costar. Old enough to be your father and your celebrity crush for god knows how long. You couldn’t be with him even if you wanted to, he’d probably leave the project if he knew how you’d watched every semi pornographic scene with him in it just to get yourself off.

The knock on your trailer altered you.

Quickly you pushed yourself from bed and wiped your fingers on your shorts, rushing to answer the door.

Hugh’s hands were braced on either side of your trailer door, panting as if he’d ran a matharon before turning up at your step.

“Hugh,” you smiled, desperate to act casual. “What’s up?”

He sighed, staring at you dreamily. He didn’t wait for an invite in. “I thought we could practice, some more.”

You looked up at him. You must have looked a mess, flushed cheeks and devilish hair, but he didn’t look much better. He was in a casual top, black sweatpants low on his v-line.

Daring to peak, you could see the indent. He was still hard.

Your thighs clenched in together from the overwhelming heat. “Yeah, of course.”

You sat next to Hugh on the sofa where you’d left your last script. Your thigh against his, his finger grazing your knee.

You cleared your throat, trying to read when all you could do was bask in every little touch from him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” said Hugh. His eyes were on you, script forgotten.

Glancing from him to the script, you flicked a page. “I don’t- where does it say-”

With a rough hand, he tilted your jaw to him until your lips were a hairs breath away. His tongue flicked out, darting over your lips, begging. “Honey, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You gulped, mouth opening for breath or for him, you couldn’t tell which was more important. A hand crept up to cradle the back of his head. “I can’t tell if we’re practicing or not, Hugh.”

His head rested against yours as he moved it side to side. “Whatever gets you to fall in love with me.”

His eyes met yours.

“As if you even have to try.”

Your lips were soft and mouth wide as you received him, tongue gracing his mouth as he grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, the script crinkling between the two of you. Your hands were in his hair, grown longer for the part, then raking down his neck then over his shirt until you were gripping it in your hands, pulling him closer to you while you lost air.

Hugh pulled back enough to kiss your jaw, biting at the skin.

“Is this-“ you gasped, holding onto his shoulders. Your thoughts weren’t working, nothing was. All you could think was him, his hands on your hips.

Hugh's lips reluctantly dragged away from your skin, as if he'd die to be parted. "Is it what baby?" when he saw your concern, his desire dimmed. All he wanted was for you to be alright. "Tell me," he brushed back your hair, thumb pulling down your bottom lip, after all, he still needed you like you might die tomorrow.

You sat back on his lap, trying to distract yourself from the dampness in your pants. "Is this real?"

"Doesn't it feel real to you?" he laughed, rocking himself into you.

"Is this Hugh?" you whispered, "or just your character."

His eyes softened. Hugh cradled your cheeks, holding you to look at him. "This is me and you, honey. I-I know this all seems sudden, and we can stop if you want-"

"I'm not saying that," you quickly cut him off as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your neck. You wanted him, even if it meant heartbreak for you later.

He pulled back and looked up at you. "This is me wanting you. As y/n. As whatever you will give me. As my love, as my baby. As- as everything i've been thinking about for months. As everything I've been waiting for, baby," his thumb smoothed over your cheekbones as you nuzzled into his palms. "If i've made you feel like i'm using you i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, but this is real to me."

You glance up at him. Your lips press a kiss into his palm as you hold his hand to you. "Good," you mutter. You adjust yourself, settling down on his lap again until his clothed erection is begging for your wetness. "Because this is real to me too."

Hugh growled and kissed you, all tongue and teeth as he sort to get every piece of you in one. His arms, strong and large, wrapped around your back and held you into him until even when you pulled away to breathe, your breath was full of him.

With his strength, he pushed you down on your sofa, throwing the script behind him and pulling your legs until they were thrown on either side of his hips. He was lucky you were still in costume, your dress riding up to reveal your white panties, with a damp spot.

Hugh lied down, looking at your pussy as his one hand held down your hips, the other crawling up your chest to squeeze your breasts. "This real? This all for me, honey?"

"Yes," you gasp, running your hands through his hair as his salt and pepper beard scraped your thighs.

"You want me?"

"Yes, Hugh."

"How badly?"

"So, so badly," you whisper, eyes shut as his breath fans where you need him most. "Please baby, please."

He kissed over your panties. "So polite, honey. So good for me." He licked a stripe up, letting his tongue swirl over your clit.

Your back arches. As he repeated the motion before hooking his fingers through the band and slowly- agonisingly slowly- pulling down your panties and the scrunching them up in his hand.

He moaned at the sight of you dripping before him. How he had you panting by the smallest touches. You were his to touch. To ruin. To taint with him and only him. "Thought about this cunt of yours more than should be allowed."

You chuckle, propping yourself up to indulge in the sinful image of him between your thighs. "Yeah? Thought about it too."

"Tell me," he said. His eyes were on yours as he peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, fingers indented into your flesh.

You moan, eyes fluttering shut. You think of every crude images you'd conjured in your mind. Him suffocating between your thighs, you sitting on his face, riding that perfect arched nose. Your mouth stuffed with his cock as he eats you out. Riding him. Up against a wall. Every filthy thing, you wanted to do with him. "Thought about your tongue, your cock, fingers, nose."

He laughed, glancing up at you. "My nose, huh?"

You chuckle with him, falling back and throwing your arms over your face. The laughter catches in your throat when you feel his tongue dive into your folds, the warmth spreading. You moan, legs going to close if it weren't for Hugh tapping them.

"Keep them open baby," his voice was rough in demand as he focused on you. On tasting you, on spreading your folds with his fingers- sliding them in and out to get a feel, as he shoved his tongue in depths you didn't know he could.

You bite down on the back of your hand, but your cry is barley muffled. "Fuck, baby."

Hugh eats you like he's starved man. He moans into your cunt, sending vibrations through your body that he receive gladly. It goes through him like you're one person. He finds himself grinding down on the sofa like a teenage boy. That's what you're doing to him, making him focus on you and not cumming before stuffing you with him.

"Hugh, I'm-" you mutter all too quickly.

"God, can't wait to taste you cum on my tongue, honey," he said. "You want my nose huh?" He stuffs his face into your pussy, tongue flicking up and down your folds as he nudges his nose on your clit repeatedly until he has your thighs shaking.

"Hugh!" you moan, holding onto his shoulder to stabilise yourself.

Hugh slides his fingers into you, using your wetness to his advantage as he continues to work you with his tongue. He slobbers, spitting down your folds and fingers as he works it into you, groaning at the sight. "Can't wait to feel this around me. God, I wanted you on my cock so bad, with the camera's watching, with the crew. Want them all to know an old man like me can have you falling in love."

"Always," you gasp, focusing on the warmth in your stomach and Hugh's fingers curling inside of you. "Want you to take me. Use me. Have me."

Hugh flattens himself against your sofa, groaning, eyes rolling in the back of his head like it's your mouth warm against is cock. He grips your hand that was on his shoulder and holds it until his fingers bleach white from the grip. He rests it on your sternum, looking up at you.

Wisps of your hair stick to your forehead, your chest spilling out the dress and rising and falling as your body trembles. You hold his hand just as tight, if not, tighter.

"Cum on my lips baby, please," he begged. "Want to taste you. Want to make you cum."

It took little more encouragement from you before you came on his tongue, gasping and grasping as you did. Hugh ate it up, licking the mess from your pussy and your lips. It has him quivering and knowing he'll need this taste every day just to keep him sane.

"Hugh?"

He glances back up at you. Your pink cheeks and wide eyes. He grins, licking his lips and wiping your juice from the corner of his lips and licking it from his fingers as he crawls back over you. He nudges his nose against yours and grins at your smile. "That was amazing."

"You're saying it like you just had the best orgasm of your life," you laugh.

His brows rose. "Best orgasm of your life, huh? I can give you plenty more where that came from?"

You smirk, running your hand from his chest to between his legs, rubbing your hand over his dick that trembles at your touch. Satisfaction gnaws at you as you watch his eyes shut and jaw clench.

"Baby, almost had me cumming in my pants like a teenager," he chuckled, shakily.

You tut, sitting up to have better access to his lap. "Can't be having that."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

That's how the rest of the months of filming were spent.

At first, the two of you agreed to take it slow. Little dinner dates, grabbing coffee together and walks in the local parks. Luckily it was known you were filming together and the paps weren't too fussed.

You tried to take it slow, but the sex was anything but.

In the mornings when you were inevitably in the make up chair first thing- as the star of the movie- Hugh would join you, passing you your coffee order and breakfast before taking a seat next to you and chatting away with you and the make-up artists. Even if he wasn't shooting that day, he was there. On the dot. Every day.

Your team of people smirked knowingly even if neither of you confirmed it. But the stolen stares and kind offerings were enough. Surprisingly, nobody warned him about being with one so young and neither you him much older as he was.

Because everyone knew it was true, real love. Because first, it came from friendship.

He helped you with scenes when you asked, helping the emotions play out. Even you gave him new perspectives of looking and taking om scenes. It was refreshing. Life with you was refreshing.

The more intimate scene's became harder, oddly enough. Because you'd get to into it, the director yelling cut several times to tear your bodies from each other. Then, when you were alone at night, you jumped on Hugh, climbing him like a tree.

Sometimes you couldn't wait till night and dragged him into your dressing room, sliding down to your knees and un-doing his belt.

"Eager?" he'd tease.

You wouldn't justify him with an answer. Your hands messaging his balls and tongue licking up his cock until you had him down your throat or stuffed in your cheeks was enough for him.

At the end, you had to stop reading scripts with Hugh as his glasses perched on his nose was too much for you.

Enough times he knew that and would eat you out wearing them. And only them. You'd watch the lenses steam up as he licked and moaned in you until you were cumming over his chin, sometimes landing on his glasses.

"Honey, you're too much," he grinned and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Dinner nights after long days always ended up with your foot gently trailing up his leg in his dress pants, his hand gripping your ankle as it inched closer to his cock, finger running circles.

Hugh would have to park in the dark and pull you onto his cock, ruining your dazzling dress and tearing the seams of his trousers to have his cock free and nuzzled into you.

One of your breasts was in his mouth as you rode him, his arm wrapped around your waist and helping you move. His cock warm and throbbing inside of you.

"Oh baby," he moaned around your breast, teeth pinching at your nipple. "Grip me like a dream."

His hand gripped your ass, pushing you and pushing you, throwing his head back and groaning out as the car rocked form your hard movements. It didn't matter how many times either of you had each other, it was a constant need never satisfied. You breathed new life into him and he wanted to use it all on you.

"Hugh, I need you!" you whined out even as his cock was deep in you.

But he got it. Because it wasn't enough for him. "I know, baby, I know!" he lurched forward and kissed you as you grabbed his cheek, keeping him there. Your tongues fought as you tried to catch your breath, bouncing on his cock. He growled. You whimpered.

"Fuck me, Hugh," you told him, biting down on his earlobe as you cuddled into him, bouncing on his dick as fast as you could to reach your third high that night.

"Shit, just there- right there!" he held your hips down as his cum spluttered into you, him growling and moaning out your name like prayer. Nobody in the world had been so devoted to something like Hugh was to you.

And the balance was perfect. The next night Hugh would join you in your trailer- where most your times were spent. You were curled into his side as he was shirtless, reading. Those annoyingly attractive glasses still there as he laughed at some parts of the book and you'd ask what it had said and he'd explain it to you while his fingers twirled strands of your hair.

The next day you'd be attached to him all day, lips forming as one as the camera rolled and the director gave you pointers. It was a scene of the two of you in the garden. Both indecent (although of course following Hollywood guidelines) Hugh didn't even let you up from his lap, instead holding you there as you both acted professional and took the director's words. You could fuck him, love him and work with him all you needed.

That night, Hugh would have you on the floor of his trailer, the two of you hardly making it through the door before he had his cock in your mouth, stirring you with his hands in your hair.

"Did so good today, my good girl, working so hard for everyone," he groaned as you chocked around his cock.

You took him deep and took him out, spitting over his cock and working him with your hand. "So big," you mumbled, drunk on having him. You sucked one of his balls into your mouth, devoting attention to both of them.

"Oh, fuck, y/n, you're gonna be the death of me. God, I just know you wanted to ride me with everyone watching, could feel how wet you were."

You take his cum down your throat, licking every last drop before you both fall asleep in his bed to film together the next day.

You both walk on set, laughing, smiling, with coffee in hands and every on set watches and smirks cause they know. Maybe they don't know all the filthy things you get up to, but they can see it's more than just another hollywood controversial talk.

But Hugh is in love with you.

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii, @wolviesgirl, @haytchee, @aoi-targaryen, @apizzacalledmel, @corvusmorte, @slut4you, @ellak69, (how you're only just on the taglist no idea babe), @wolverigrl

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[keikikait]

can you do something really angsty for rafe please. like one where they might not end up together:(

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʜᴏᴍᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: from the corner, at the party, you watch him

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, rafe & reader are friends, kook!reader & kook!rafe, drinking, not proofread

a note: yeah....yeah....

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

He’s never looked more beautiful. 

You bring the red solo cup to your lips, eye twitching and throat burning as you take a sip. It was foul, cheap vodka mixed with melted skittles, but it was getting you drunk, and that’s all that mattered. You felt like a creep, sitting in the corner of Barry’s living room, practically eye fucking Rafe as he stands in the kitchen, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes naturally went to his figure, tracing the expanses of his toned arms. 

You wanted him.

You always have.

From the second you met him in elementary school, when you were around 6 years old, you’ve had a crush on Rafe. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You had just gotten new shoes that had laces instead of Velcro, and even though your mom had tied them for you in the morning, you were struggling to tie them yourself after they had come undone. Rafe had spotted you in the courtyard and expertly tied them himself before sticking his hand out towards you to shake, announcing his presence with the upmost confidence. Ward had been raising him to be a businessman, after all.

You fell for him immediately, and you fell hard. As your friendship grew, so did your feelings towards him. You had just moved to Kildare, and your parents had exclaimed that you would be best friends forever when you discovered that you were actually his next door neighbour. Through the trees you could just make out his bedroom window, and if he tried hard enough, he could see right into yours too. You spent the rest of your days wanting, needing, dying for him, hoping one day he would pick you over whatever girl of the week he was seeing. You wondered what it was like to be chosen. You were never chosen by Rafe. You were a maybe, a probably, sometimes even definitely, but never his first choice. 

You remember when he got his first actual girlfriend, April. You were 13, already head over heels in love with him, and were absolutely devastated when he sent you that text. You cried so hard you nearly threw up, yet your reply to him was a simple ‘Congrats!’. You knew that he didn’t like you back then, and that showing any type of jealousy would just drive a further wedge between you. He was already starting to pull away. He was dealing with so much at home that he was taking it out on everyone else at school, constantly screaming and yelling and throwing things. He needed the attention he wasn’t getting, and it seemed that the attention you were giving him wasn’t enough.

At 15, he got a new girlfriend, Lillian. They weren’t serious like how he was with April, but this was the first girl he had in a while that actually stuck around. Lillian didn’t like you, and you didn’t like her. She was, quite ironically, jealous, and was constantly reading your texts with Rafe. She purposely excluded you from parties and hangouts, doing everything in her power to get you away from Rafe. They only lasted seven months before Rafe dropped her, saying: ‘I’ve known her for a few months. I’ve known you my whole life. It’s a pretty easy choice.’

He didn’t get another girlfriend until he was 17, bordering on 18, when he met Jacquelyn. The daughter of one of Ward’s business partners, they were essentially a PR relationship, only hugging and holding hands during fancy black tie events. Jacquelyn was nice to you, nice enough, although you always had a feeling that she knew you loved Rafe. 

And it was hard not to love him. You had tried so many times over the years to just get a grip and move on, but something about him was so alluring. You had watched him grow, blossom into the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, and it was hard not to fall for him. You had tried to gaslight yourself a few times into believing you were truly over him, climbed out of the hole you were stuck in, but the next time you hugged, and you got to bury your face into his chest, you fell right back down. He was the moon in your universe, and you were barely even a star.

Just as you had seen Rafe blossom, you had seen him shrivel up. Watching him get into drugs, alcohol, and violence was heart-wrenching, but he never listened to you. He said you didn’t get it, and you didn’t understand him, but when things got too much for him, or he got too drunk, he would always turn up on your porch, your favourite candy in hand as a figurative olive branch. And you accepted it every time, eagerly opening your arms to welcome him, revelling in the feeling of his whispered apologies in your ear. 

You were always the one he went to.

Until he met Sofia.

You didn’t want to hate Sofia, but you couldn’t help it. She had everything you wanted, and she was everything you wanted to be. She had Rafe, and she was Rafe’s. After Rafe heard of Ward’s death, Sofia is the one he went to, not you. You didn’t see him until weeks later at The Island Club, and as you tried to give him your condolences, she whisked him away. He left the room as quickly as he entered it, leaving only a waft of his cologne and a pit in your stomach in his wake.

She stole him away from you, constantly hanging on his arm and dragging away during parties. He never responded to you anymore, too busy spending time with her, taking her to some stupid boutique on the mainland or going with her to the beach when the UV was too high to resist. Did he rub sunscreen on her back? Did his hands ever slip under the bikini straps as he caressed her skin, did his hands ever wander around the front and slip underneath the cups?

Did you even want to know?

You had grown apart these last few months. You rarely saw him, even out on Kildare, and your conversations were few and far between. Even then, your feelings for him never faded. You would sit on the chair by your window, staring out towards his, wondering if just maybe you would catch a glimpse of him walking by. You felt, for lack of a better word, hollow without him. Rafe was one of your best friends, and after spending years together attached at the hip, you were suddenly missing your other half. It felt like a breakup, except you were never together in the first place. You were grieving a relationship that never even happened. 

You advert your eyes from Rafe, realising you’ve been staring for a bit, and go to take another sip, only to find your cup empty. You sigh, chewing on the inside of your lip as you look back up at the kitchen. His arm is slung around Sofia’s neck, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing at her collarbones as she leans against his chest, a smug look on her stupid pretty face as she sips on her hard seltzer.

You look back at the cup again. You needed more alcohol if you were going to stay sane at this party. You stand up, placing the pillow that was once in your lap on the chair before moving across the room towards the kitchen, manoeuvring through drunk Kooks and groping couples until you reached the linoleum.

‘It’s an open bar,’ Barry said, ‘Take whatever.’ so you didn’t feel weird about immediately digging through his liquor cabinet, pulling out the giant bottle of Everclear from the bottom shelf. You had only ever had Everclear one other time, and all you remember of the night was waking up face first in the sand with seaweed in your hair. You had promised yourself never again, but this night was different. You wanted to stay at this party and be with your friends, but you couldn’t bear to look at Rafe and Sofia sober.

Rafe’s thumb moves up to caress Sofia’s jaw as he watches you set the Everclear down on the kitchen counter. “Damn, already?”

Oh, shit. Was he talking to you? You look over, pursing your lips together. “Uh, yeah. Why not live a little, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess…” He mutters, dragging his thumb down Sofia’s neck. “You know that stuff is hella strong, right?”

Did he not remember that night? “I’m just gonna take one shot, dude.”

“Well, one shot can turn into two, then into four, then…” He trails off. “You know how you are after a few shots.”

You unscrew the Everclear and pour some into your solo cup. Your hands are shaking from the vodka you had before, and you dump in more than you had initially planned on. You screw the cap back on and slip it into the cabinet again before opening the fridge to grab a mixer. “I got it.”

He watches you pour, eyebrows raising when he sees the amount that flows into your cup, but he says nothing, simply continuing to caress the skin of Sofia’s jaw with his thumb. “Mhm, okay.”

Sofia looks between the two of you, sipping on her drink before speaking up, “You never drink like this.”

You don’t even fucking know me, you want to say, but you don’t. You shrug as you open a can of Cherry Coke and dump it into the solo cup before crushing it and tossing it into the recycling bin on the edge of the kitchen. “Just wanna try something new.”

“You could do that with literally anything. Everclear is not a good start,” He sighs, looking down at you. “One shot of that stuff will have you on your ass within the hour.”

You swirl the drink in your cup and shrug again as you leave the kitchen to go back to your spot. “We’ll see.” You glance at Rafe over your shoulder as you take a sip, moving back through the crowd.

It tasted disgusting. You felt the liquor burn all the way down to your stomach, your eyes watering slightly as you hold back a cough, but you keep drinking. You wanted to forget. You wanted to be drunk enough to not care about Rafe and Sofia. You sat back down without a word, grabbing the pillow you had left on the chair and putting it back on your lap. You watched the party from the corner, hesitating as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The party gets too hot too quickly.

November was one of the cooler months in the Outer Banks and although the patio door was wide open, you were starting to sweat. The alcohol, mixed with your bubbling anxiety as you watched Rafe and Sofia, was causing you to start to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

You hadn’t even finished your drink when you head outside, pushing through the crowd bottlenecked at the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you reach the pool area. Your shoulders droop as you start to relax, your skin starting to cool down. The loungers and seats are full, but the pool is empty, even though Barry had been promising everyone it was heated. There were a few Kooks sitting on the edge of the hot tub, their feet in the water, beer cans littering the surrounding ground.

You look around, biting the inside of your lip. You start to move, looking around the expansive backyard before finding a small concrete bench pressed up against an old out of use fountain full of leaves and dried algae. You brush some of the leaves off and sit down, a small noise escaping your mouth at how fucking cold it is. You zip up your jacket, sitting cross-legged as you try to get as comfortable as possible. 

You continue to people watch, taking some brief moments to look up at the stars.

It’s peaceful, and you’re grateful for the silence. The sound from the house is still audible, but it’s muffled enough from being out in the yard. You watch the Kooks in the hot tub, noticing a couple of them starting to kiss.

You were grateful to be out of there.

You were grateful not to be looking at Rafe and Sofia. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the kitchen. Rafe’s hands on Sofia’s hips. Him burying his nose in her hair. The soft kisses they exchanged every time they thought you weren’t looking. It made your stomach turn.

You look up at the clear night sky, shivering as a breeze passes, brushing the stray hairs that escaped your low bun away from your face. You could see Orion, you could see the moon, you could even see some stars you didn’t know the name of. They manage to distract you for a long time, so long that you don’t even remember how long you’ve been sitting there.

You feel something heavy being placed on your shoulders, the weight startling you. You turn around, ready to snap at whoever had disturbed your solitude, but you're met by Rafe. He's wearing only a t-shirt, his own jacket in his hands. “Couldn't let you freeze to death sitting out here alone.”

“I have a jacket,” You say. It’s true, your jacket was keeping you warm, and a large part of you felt bad that Rafe was trying to give his up. “Keep yours.” As you stop dissociating, your fingers and toes suddenly feel stiff. You move the cup to your other hand, clenching and stretching your fingers.

He ignores your protest, draping his jacket over your shoulders anyway, even going as far as to zip it up under your chin. “No arguments. You looked like a baby deer sitting here shivering.”

His cologne smells so good. It smells like home. “Thanks.” Your eyes follow him as he sits next to you on the bench, beer bottle in hand.

“No problem,” Rafe looks out, his knee brushing your leg as he turns to check out the backyard, eyes scanning the Kooks in the hot tub as he takes a sip of his beer. After a moment, he turns back to you, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your drink. “You didn’t finish that.” he nods towards the cup in your hand.

“No, it’s uh…” You clear your throat and sit up straight. “It’s disgusting. Guess Everclear and Cherry Coke don’t mix.”

He snickers, “Told you so,” He takes another sip of his beer, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks at you. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff anyway. I’ve seen people go down quick after only one shot. Not pretty.”

“Eh. Wanted to try something new.” You say, swirling it around in the cup.

“Yeah, well, don’t go drinking Everclear again. I’m not gonna hold your hair back while you’re puking,” He gives you another once over, eyes lingering on your face. “You don’t look very good.”

You weren’t doing good. Not at all. You were trying to live your life without Rafe around, even just as a friend, and it was proving to be a very difficult task. It was so hard to not immediately rush to text him, or to send him a million TikToks throughout the day. You missed him, as much as it pained you to admit. You shrug. “Just kinda tired. Didn’t sleep well.”

He notices the change in your demeanour instantly, the walls that he was so used to seeing come down were up now. You were shutting him out. “You gotta stop staying up late on your phone, then.” he elbows you playfully, hoping to get you to laugh, like old times.

You don’t.

You awkwardly look back down at your drink and swirl it again. You had thought that maybe this unwelcomed distance would do you good, and you would eventually fall out of love with him, but it seems to get harder and harder every day. You just wanted to hold him one last time. You needed him back then, and you needed him still. You let out a breath. “Yeah. Probably.”

He stays silent, taking another sip from his beer as he looks back out to the yard. There was a tension in the air now, but he wasn’t sure if it was all in his head. You seemed…distant. Shut off. He was so used to your bright personality, your happy demeanour, your laugh. Now, you were just…blank. His knee bumps yours again as he shifts. He looked back over at you, watching you for a long time. You were just staring straight, avoiding his gaze.

You clear your throat again, setting your cup down beside you. You unzip his jacket and stand up as you slide it off, trying to avoid his gaze as you drape it over his shoulders. “I’m gonna head back inside.”

Rafe catches your wrist as you start to move away, fingers gentle, but firm, almost reluctant to let you go. His eyes meet yours immediately, holding your gaze captive as he looks at you. “Wait.”

“What?” You ask, picking your drink back up with your free hand.

“We…” he trails off, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin of your inner wrist as he looks at you. It was cold outside, but your skin was so warm against his. It felt so natural. Like everything was right again. He didn’t ever realise how much he had missed you until now. “We need to talk.”

You try to pull your wrist away. “About what?”

He lets the grasp on your wrist loosen, but he doesn’t let go, his touch trailing down until his fingers are laced with yours. “About this…distance…” he motions vaguely between you two, “That you’ve been building for the past couple of months.”

“That I’ve been building?” You ask, your eyebrows raising. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”

“Not on purpose. I’ve been busy.” he says defensively, almost immediately. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he had been busy lately. Sofia had been keeping him on his toes lately, and he hadn’t had much time alone during the day, let alone time alone in his own home. But he also couldn’t deny that he had been purposefully avoiding you, knowing that if he spent too much time with you, Sofia would have something to say about it.

“Maybe I’ve been busy too.” You say, although it’s a lie. 

Rafe snorts, almost calling you out on the lie, but he lets it go with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looking at you. His thumb rubs slow circles on the inside of your palm, the touch familiar. It hurt his chest. “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“This,” He gestures between you and him. “This distance. I don’t like it,” He looks away, a frustrated expression on his face. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. Why do you act like I can’t even approach you anymore?”

Friends. You never hated a word more. You take a step back, sighing as you glance out over the pool again. “Sometimes friends drift apart, Rafe.”

He looks at you, his jaw clenched as he watches you avoid his gaze once again. You wouldn’t even look at him. It was infuriating. He couldn’t believe that you were so nonchalant about all of this. Friends drift apart. That’s what you said. Did he have to mean so little? His hand falls back to his side, but the expression on his face stays fixed. “Bullshit.”

“You’re busy, I’m busy,” You say. “Sometimes that happens.”

“I’m only busy with Sofia,” He snaps, frustration seeping through in his voice. He takes a step towards you, eyes narrowed. “And even when I’m busy with her, I still manage to find time-” He stops himself, taking a moment to slow his breathing. He was getting too worked up. The last thing he needed right now was to blow up at you.

You chug the rest of your drink and set the empty solo cup on the bench, immediately regretting it. You should’ve dumped it out a while ago. The last thing you needed was a drunk walk home. “We’ve both been busy. That’s it, Rafe.”

“That’s it?” He repeats, looking at you incredulously. He couldn’t believe you were so blasé about this. About you guys practically ignoring each other, never talking, practically avoiding each other every chance you got. Was it so simple to you? To forget years of friendship over something so idiotic like being busy? “You’re bullshitting me.”

You hated this feeling. Your heart ached, and your hands went numb, your body full of tingles. You take a few more steps back. You had to do it, you had to rip the band-aid off if you wanted to finally move on. You didn’t want your happiness to live and die with him. “Maybe this friendship thing isn’t working anymore.”

It felt like you had stabbed him straight in the chest, twisted the blade, and then pulled it out slowly, painfully. Every word that you spat out felt like another layer of pain. It was bullshit. You had been by his side through everything. You were always there. He trusted you more than anyone. And this was how you felt now? You didn’t want to be friends? Rafe clenched his jaw, biting back the sting of emotion. “You’re not serious.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Rafe.” You say.

“I want you to tell me that you still give a damn about our friendship!” he says, a frustrated tone in his voice.  “I want you to tell me that this distance is bullshit and that I still mean something to you! That you still want to hang out and talk and everything else I thought we’d still be doing when we got older, and that I’m just reading into this too much! I want you to tell me that you’re just busy, and it’ll all get better in a little bit, because I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Rafe--” You try to speak, but he cuts you off.

He was getting more worked up now, his chest heaving as he stares at you. He had never felt like this before. You always knew how to calm him down from whatever fit he was throwing, but you weren’t doing that now. He takes a step closer, getting into your personal space now, anger evident in his eyes. “Do you even care about me anymore, or are you just pretending you do whenever I’m around? Do you hate me now?”

You would probably still adore him with his hands around your neck. “No, of course I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?” He demands, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. He was getting louder, but he didn’t care. For once, he wanted to let his emotions out, knowing that they would be safe with you. “Why are you acting like this?” He gestures between you, “You’re shutting me out, and you’re pulling away, and you can’t even look me in the eye without flinching. Why? Tell me why.”

“Because I like you, Rafe!” You blurt out. Your eyes widen slightly when you realise what you said. You let out a shaky breath. “I like you a lot. More than I should. And seeing you with her, with Sofia… it’s so hard for me.”

He stares at you for a moment, stunned into silence by your confession. 

You liked him.

A lot?

More than you should.

His jaw clenched, his mind trying to process everything as he sits back down. He had suspected that you liked him more than a friend for a long time, but he had never dared to try and confirm it. The words were out in the open now, though. And it changed everything.

You hate how silent he’s being. Your voice is shaky when you start to speak again, “And I know that you don’t feel the same way about me. I know that, and I’m okay with that.”

He lets out an almost bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. The sound is harsh in the air, like a slap in the face. “That’s what you think? You think I don’t have feelings for you?” His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made it even more threatening than if he was yelling.

“I know you don’t.” You say softly, tears starting to well in your eyes. You weren’t stupid. You knew from day dot that he would never feel the same way that you do, and you always knew that he would never be yours, but it was never enough to help you finally move on. 

For the first time in Rafe’s life, he struggles with what to say. It takes him a few seconds to find the words he's looking for. “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? We’re not romantic or anything, we’re just friends.”

“I know that.” You say.

“We’re just friends.” He says again, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

Your stomach hurts. “I know.”

He looks away from you, standing up from the bench. “How long have you liked me?”

“Since the day we met,” You say. “When you tied my shoe for me.”

He runs his hand through his hair again. “And you never said anything.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it stings.

“There was no point,” You say. “I knew even back then that you would never feel the same way.”

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re right, he doesn’t feel the same way. He doesn’t like you the way you like him. At least he thinks he doesn’t. He stays quiet, his fists clenching.

“I don’t want to ignore you, Rafe,” You continue. “But maybe this distance will be good for us. I’ll be able to get over you.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen for me in the first place.” He snaps.

It takes you by surprise. Your eyes flutter for a second as tears start to fall, and you take a step back, chest clenching.

He stares at you, his stomach lurching as the first of the tears roll down your face. He stays silent for a moment, before finally sighing. “It’s not supposed to be this way,” He walks towards you again, reaching out to take both of your hands, trying to stop you from backing away from him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, not some girl in love with me.”

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Stop apologising,” He says, holding your wrists tightly, like he’s trying to keep you in place. “I hate it when you do that.”

You almost apologise again. You just nod, looking down at your feet before moving your gaze back over to the pool. No one has noticed you two yet.

He follows your gaze, looking towards the pool. No one had even spared a glance in your direction. It was just you and him, secluded in the quiet corner, surrounded by a party that seemed a mile away. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react to your confession. All he knows is that he still hates seeing you cry.

“Do you still want to be friends?” You ask quietly, looking up at him.

Rafe hesitates. 

His first instinct is to push you away. To tell you that it would be best if you two just never spoke to each other again, that things would be better that way. But he knew he didn’t mean that. And when he looked down at you, seeing the heartbreak on your face, he knew he couldn’t say it. He wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and he had no idea what he was doing, but you were his oldest friend. You had been by his side through everything. There was no way he was pushing you away that easily.

He pulls you into a hug, pressing his nose into the crown of your head. “Of course, I still want to be friends,” he murmurs. “You’re my best friend, you idiot.”

You hug him back, and it feels so good to finally hold him again. You interlock your fingers behind his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he mutters, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Stop apologising.” He stays silent for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being able to hold you again. He had missed this. He had missed you more than he had ever realised.

You stay there for a while, nose buried in his chest, before you speak again. Your voice is quiet, muffled against his jacket, but he can hear you loud and clear. “I love you.”

Rafe sighs, pushing your hair away from your forehead before placing a kiss on it. “It’ll pass.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

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[pullupinarari]

Concentrate [LH]

Author’s note: hiii girlies, welcome to this side blog! This is my first time posting something for Lewis, and I really like this little thing so I hope you enjoy it as well! 🥰 mwah mwah

Warnings: this is smutty so MINORS DNI!! Fingering, shower head comes into action, unprotected sex, girl is gonna ride 🤠 let me know if I’m missing something ‼️

• masterlist

wc: 2017 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Lewis for the last time. Work has been keeping you away from each other, on both ends. You’ve been out of the city for work meetings, and Lewis was in Belgium for the Grand Prix.

Today is Tuesday, and you just got back from your work trip, but your boyfriend isn’t home - he texted you earlier, letting you know that he would have dinner with his manager to discuss some sponsorship deals.

You are tired, your entire body hurts, your feet are sore from wearing heels for so long - you need a nice, deserved break. And all you can think about when you enter your house is going straight to the tub, wanting nothing more than a warm and relaxing bath.

You turn on the water, letting it fill the bathtub as you lazily take your clothes off and put on some slow music to set the environment. The feeling embraces your skin as your foot touches the warm water. You lay in the tub, not rushing to wash your hair nor your body, wishing to feel the quietness, the peace of being by yourself and without a schedule to follow for now.

You silently thank god for the fact that Lewis isn’t home, needing your alone time, but you can’t forget how much you miss him.

Being away from your boyfriend is never easy - no matter how many years you two spend together, you never get used to being away from each other. When two bodies are connected in such a deep way like the two of you are, it’s never easy to let that connection fade when you’re forced to distance yourselves physically.

But the thing is, it never really fades. Lewis is a very devoted boyfriend, he texts you the entire time you two are apart, sends voice messages, video calls you whenever you two are available, and makes sure you know how important you are to him.

Not even in the most magical dream you could ever have, would you imagine that you would be lucky enough to have such a confident and mature man by your side.

So, even when you’re away from each other, you two are always present in the other's days and lives, even if it’s just through a cute text or a phone call.

And while you’re feeling the warm water hitting your body and relaxing your tense muscles, Lewis is actually a nervous wreck, wanting to get his dinner meeting done as fast as possible so he can finally go home and find you. God, he misses you like crazy - he needs to hold you, to kiss you, to touch you. As soon as he finds a breach, he makes up an excuse so he can leave the dinner and drive home.

The noise of the front door opening and closing disturbed your peace, and by the way Roscoe immediately started barking, you knew he was welcoming Lewis.

“Love! I’m home!” - you hear Lewis’ voice echoing through the hallways, giggling to yourself while you wait for him to open the bathroom door.

When he does, his eyes light up when he catches your features in between the dim light of a few candles that illuminate the space surrounding you.

Your body is covered with bubbles and foam, your hair lazily tied in a bun, he can only see some parts of your face due to the lack of light, but he doesn’t need anything else. He knows your features by heart, he knows exactly how you look and he absolutely loves it, feeding himself off the angelic energy that emanates from your body into him.

He kneels down beside the tub, placing his hands carefully on each side of your face, holding you gently as his lips finally meet yours in a much expected kiss.

“Hi” - you whisper softly to him, letting out a giggle.

“Hey” - he whispers back, kissing you once more.

The kisses are slow, gentle, yet so full of love.

Your hand leaves the water, reaching his face to caress his cheek, beard, hair. The warm touch makes goosebumps appear on your boyfriend’s skin.

“I missed you so much” - he says to you, still whispering, as if neither of you wants to ruin the immaculate and peaceful feeling going on. Lewis feels a sense of belonging when he’s with you - he belongs to you, he only feels complete when he has you by his side. And the most beautiful part of loving someone this hard, is that you feel the exact same way towards him.

“I missed you more” - you reply, reaching for his lips once more, while your hand travels from his hair to his neck, to the beginning of his back, wrapping your fingers on his t-shirt, letting him know that you want it off.

“Join me” - you say to him in between kisses, deepening them now, slowly lighting a fire inside of Lewis. He starts to feel it burning lightly as your tongue licks his bottom lip, trying his best to keep his patience, while his body reminds him of how much he misses you.

His tongue slowly touches yours, intertwining them as his hands travel from your hair, to your jaw, to your neck.

His touch feels hot on your skin, and you gasp quietly as his fingers wrap around your neck firmly, as he gives you a proper kiss now, a deeper and needy one, as he distances his face from yours so he can stand up and take off his clothes.

You know his body like the palm of your hand, but the sight is always breathtaking. You take in every inch of his skin, and he feels your eyes burning his body.

He smirks at you when you look into his eyes, blushing from eyeing him so intensely. Lewis slowly joins you on the tub, taking a breath as he lets the warm water hug his skin. You immediately cradle him in your embrace, your arms hugging his back as your lips connect again.

The kiss is heated, as Lewis’ hand reaches to finally touch your body, resting on your hip before traveling through the water to grab your left boob. You hum at the feeling of his hands finally on you, a feeling that you’ve been craving for the past weeks.

“God, I missed this” - he admits, his mouth leaving yours, only to start painting your neck with his lips.

You gasp at the sensations of his wet lips on your skin, as if it was the first time. His hand drives through your body, making the water ruffle and adding new sensations to what the two of you were already feeling.

He stops at your core, slightly caressing it as his lips dive into yours once more, his tongue racing against yours. He grabs the shower head after opening the drain, letting the bathtub empty almost completely, leaving little to almost no water left to caress your bodies. Your skin gets chills at the sudden change of temperature, and Lewis is no longer in your arms, since he got on his knees to take a look at you.

Your body is on full display for him, and even with the dim light, he can see you blushing, trying to cover yourself up. He kisses your knee sweetly, using his hand to open your legs for him.

“Don’t hide from me, angel” - he begs you, his voice barely above a whisper - oh, the secrets he saved to tell you tonight.

You gasp at the sudden feeling of the water pressure going straight to your clit, giving you a surprisingly amount of pleasure. Lewis is still in front of you, on his knees, with his left hand holding your right leg, and his right hand holding the shower head, moving it slowly so the water can draw circles on your pearl.

Now, you two can only hear your throaty moans and breaths and the sound of the water running, while your soft music is still playing on the background. Lewis is looking at you with fire in his eyes, hungry to give you more pleasure, so he switches the shower head to his left hand, leaving his right hand completely free.

Then, his slick fingers tease your entry, as the water keeps adding pressure to your clit. He adds two fingers inside of you, moving them slowly as he hears you moaning his name.

The water is the perfect temperature, and that amount of pressure building on your pearl for so long is making you see stars already - Lewis’ fingers send you straight to heaven.

After some minutes of fingering you hard, but slowly, you end up reaching your high, feeling empty when your boyfriend distances his fingers from you. He takes the shower head and uses it to wet your bodies with warm water once again, while he moves to close the drain, letting the bathtub fill again.

His body glues itself to yours again, kissing you more as you missed his touch, even if it was just some seconds without him touching you.

“You make me feel so special” - you admit, feeling affectionate after your orgasm, hugging him and connecting your mouths again in a sensual, passionate kiss.

Lewis uses his strength to lift you up, holding you tightly as he sits in the tub, while you’re straddling him now.

The kisses become calmer, but your hand teases his member, desperate to get some attention as well. Your boyfriend groans at your touch, letting you know how good it feels.

You’re the one attaching your lips to his neck, shoulder and collarbone now. After a moment of touching him where he needs you the most, you lift your hips, aligning yourself with him and sinking slowly, making the two of you moan at the sensation.

You start moving, and Lewis uses his hands to help you, while your skin is now slapping against the water.

“Woman, what have you done to me?” - Lewis questions, almost like a prayer.

He keeps moaning and grunting, and his sounds mix with the tune that’s still playing in the background, sounding like a song - a song that you could listen to for the rest of your life.

Lewis is at loss for words, he can only focus on the feelings that you’re providing him. Your ocean is drowning him, your arms are wrapped around him, and he can’t concentrate on anything else. Your kisses make goosebumps appear on his skin, his stomach swirls every time you sink harder on his dick.

He definitely makes you feel weak, but you have no idea how lost in pleasure he is right now. And he could feel like this forever, from night until the morning, taking you nice and slow, without a care in the world.

When you two burst your bubbles, he holds you tightly, letting you rest your head on his chest while he looks down at you, like you are the most precious thing in this world.

“I love you so, so fucking much, my love” - he whispers, while his hands gather some warm water to pour on your back, so you don’t feel cold.

“I love you more” - you reply, landing a kiss on his cheek, making a bright smile appear on his face.

“I’m so lucky” - he says to you like it’s another secret that he’s breaking to you. “Everything you do to me, the way you make me feel. Fuck, I am never letting you go” - he seals his promise with a meaningful kiss to your lips.

Lewis truly makes you feel special, like a true princess that’s deserving of this world and the entire solar system. But you could never deny how special Lewis is. Your rock, your safe haven, the man of your dreams. The world stops when you’re together, but nothing could stop the connection that you two share, and the feeling that invades your hearts at every second of the day, by just thinking of each other. Truly, your match made in heaven.

[vivwritesfics]

Beautiful Monster

Vampire!Max is instantly hooked when he meets a girl that looks like the vampire that turned him. He searches for her, until he finds himself on her sofa, teeth against her neck.

Warnings: max killing (not reader), blood drinking, slightest smut, reader doesn't die but she is lowkey a dumb bitch

Viv's AUgust Event

There was nothing wrong with the house on the hill. It was probably very nice inside, but the rumours that surrounded it, the rumours about the beast inside.

He knew the rumours around him, knew what the children said as they dared each other to ring his doorbell and run away. The curtains were always drawn and the beast rested through the day, emerging at night.

He was so damn beautiful, but he didn't see that (yes, he can see his reflection in the mirror, since his mirror is a modern mirror and not backed with silver). He saw the monster that everybody else should have seen. But everybody else saw an angel.

Well, before they died. That was the only time he emerged from his house; to feed. The pretty girls at the bar happily followed him out to the alleyway, where he sank his sharp teeth into their neck and drained them dry.

She would have followed him out to the alley, would have let him pierce the skin of her neck. But Max couldn't. She looked too much like her.

Like Max's first love. The woman that drew him in and kissed his lips until they were red and swollen. He'd been human back then. His heart had been beating and he was capable of feeling love.

She had bitten his neck and fed him her blood, turning him into the nocturnal beast he was today. A hundred years of solitude, of only emerging when he needed to feed.

At first Max thought it was her. It had to be, there was no other explanation. But he watched this woman carefully. She was alive. A living, breathing being. She wasn't a monster like him.

The first time she approached him, she fluttered her eyelashes and giggled at everything he said. Flirting with him. She wasn't the first woman to do so, but she was the first one to leave him tongue tied.

Normally, Max only danced with her when he had to. He only twirled a girl around the dance floor when he was hungry and she was making him work for it. But when she asked Max to dance, he said yes. He already knew he wouldn't be feeding from her, she looked too much like his first love.

At the end of the night Max was draining another girl in the alleyway before he returned to the house on the hill. But he couldn't get her out of his head.

So much so that he went out again the next night. But she was nowhere to be found. She wasn't at the bar, wasn't anywhere at all. She must have been home, safe from all of the monsters roaming the town, safe from him.

Max went out again the next night, searching for her. She wasn't at that bar, but she was in the park, sitting on a beach with a little dog running around in front of her.

When Max approached, the little dog growled. "Leo!" She scooped the dog up and sat him in her lap.

Max had never been a dog person. Even when he was human, cats preferred him. Things only got worse once he was turned. Dogs growled and barked at him. Cats still tolerated him.

"Is he yours?" Max asked as he slipped into the seat beside her. The way she petted Leo's ears had him quiet in her lap. If it was possible, he would have been glaring at Max.

She shook her head. "He belongs to my friend, but I'm taking care of him while he's out of town."

He released a breath, one he hadn't meant to hold. So what if she owned a dog? She was just some mortal woman who would die in a few hundred years anywhere (when you're living forever, it's easy to forget how long the human lifespan was).

"You were a good dancer," she mused, fingers still absentmindedly petting Leo's head.

"I had a good partner."

What did she taste like, Max found himself wondering. Would her taste be as sweet as her scent? He could feel his fangs appearing as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

He kept them covered as he spoke to her. Well, it wasn't really a conversation. Just the two of them flirting back and forth until she picked him up and took his hand in her own, leading him out of the park.

Max didn't expect to end up on her sofa, with the dog barking away in the kitchen. He kissed her with fervour, his tongue exploring her mouth. In control of the situation, since he couldn't control himself.

She swung herself onto his lap as Max pulled away. It would be so easy to sink his teeth into her neck and drain her dry.

He couldn't stop himself as he started kissing the skin of her neck. She gasped when she felt his pointed teeth against her skin. But she wasn't pulling away, wasn't panicking. Her hips still moved against his, fingers working at the barrier of clothes that separated them.

But then his teeth sank in.

She stilled, breath catching in her throat as Max slowly began to drain her. But then she began to moan.

He knew it was a pleasurable experience for humans, remembered it from when he was still a man. She tasted so damn sweet, body going limp against him. Shit, he had never tasted anything like this.

Breath heaving, he pulled away from her. His tongue flattened against the puncture wounds, licking up what remained. Her hand came to settle on his chest and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"You're a monster," she said between breaths, too exhausted to rock her hips against his. If Max decided to explore what was in her jeans, he would have found an undeniable mess. "A beautiful monster."

She touched his cold cheek and pulled his face towards her own, kissing him.

[biolumien]

Hi Hi! first time requesting like this and I just recently finished watching the latest episode of Kaiju number 8. I was wondering if your could write something for Vice Captain Hoshina.

I was thinking something along the lines of a reincarnation storyline? Maybe Reader is a renowned painter or something. And one day they come across a dream of Hoshina in their past life and they paint his face. And Hoshina is suddenly bombarded by a few officers/cadets a few days later about a sudden article blowing up online with a painting that had extremely similar structure to his face. And maybe they'd end up meeting because of it?

I love your writing. Particularly the one with the glasses reader that I read a few days back. You're free to change things as you see fit. And I'm sure whatever you come up with will be very nice. Sorry if my words are confusing. I don't speak english language that well. 😊👌 Thank you if you decide to write for this ask.

notes: ok the way i am. actually obsessed with this i hope you enjoy!!

every 'one line' drawn.

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings, i think wc: 1768

in your dreams, you always see the same face. red eyes watching your face, purple hair framed over his face and the feeling of a callused hand on your hand, on your cheek. and every time he leans into kiss you, you find yourself pressing your face closer to his, as if desperate, and then you wake up. 

and when you wake up, you always feel the telltale trickle of a tear down your face, the feeling of salt on your tongue. 

there’s no time to wonder what the dreams ever mean, what with your job as a painter. you lived commission to commission—and while your customers were always high brow and paid generously, still meant that you couldn’t be lost in daydreams forever. 

and in your studio, with the pungent smell of turpentine and linseed oil, with your hands inevitably smeared with oil paints, it was easy to forget the stranger whose hands felt rough and weary, and yet held your face with measured gentleness. it was easy to forget him—up until you went back to bed, and you’d always be back in the same dream. 

“i keep seeing you,” you murmur in your dream. “who are you?” 

the man laughs. 

he seems sad, for a second. 

“a dear friend,” he responds. you see it on his face, the way his lips twist at his words, that it’s not quite true. and he leans in again, watching your face. “it’s okay if you don’t remember me.” 

“but i do,” you say in protest. you think you remember this face. “i want to.” 

you must remember this face, surely—this face that, upon your words, looks sadder. and then you wonder if he’s even real—or if this is simply your subconscious, saddened that you can’t remember. saddened that your mind replays this moment, again and again, a repeated brushstroke pulling open the blank canvas underneath. 

“we all want things we can’t have, sometimes,” the man says. 

he leans into kiss you, 

and you jolt up out of bed, awakening to a phone call from your manager. 

“hello…?” you mumble into your phone, pressing it against your cheek as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “it’s rare you call me randomly like this…” 

“tis no random call,” your manager responds. “you’ve received a request to exhibit some of your works from a museum. will you do it? i hear the pay’s pretty good.”

“mmm… any specific theme?” you ask. 

“not really. they said to let your imagination go wild.” 

“hm.” 

you touch your lips, and when you close your eyes, you see a hint of those crimson eyes again. 

“alright. i think i’ve got a pretty good muse this time,” you say. 

[…]

hoshina wasn’t exactly someone who was very in the know about art. his job, for one, meant that it’s not like he would exactly be interested in art in general, and it’s not like he was even spending his days off on art museum trips or admiring the local art scene. 

so why was it that everyone seemed all abuzz about art today?

and why did it seem like there were more eyes on him than before? not that he particularly abhorred attention or anything, but the eyes seemed to be looking at his face specifically. 

his eyes flit to some of the new officer recruits—iharu, reno, kafka… fuck, even haruichi and aoi? what the hell was going on—huddled around a laptop. haruichi’s brow furrows as he stares at the illuminated screen, and then flits up to look at hoshina. when hoshina stares back, harder, haruichi’s gaze immediately ducks back to the laptop.  

okay. 

well, something was definitely up. 

hoshina strolls over to the recruits, who immediately seem to start panicking—the panic is written across kafka’s face more obviously than the others, and reno elbows kafka in the side. 

“what’s all this about? if you’ve got time to huddle you’ve got time to run laps—” hoshina starts, leaning over at the screen before—

“about that, vice captain,” iharu says. 

hoshina’s in stunned silence staring at the screen, because… isn’t that—

“holy shit,” hoshina says. 

“holy shit indeed,” haruichi says grimly. 

on haruichi’s laptop screen is a painting of— him. hoshina’s damned face, brows gentle and a softened smile on his face. it was a beautiful painting, and yet—there was something sad about the smile, the brows belying deep sorrow. 

“this painter’s pretty well-known, too, aren’t they?” kafka asks. “for like… the psychedelic stuff.” 

“no,” reno says. “they’re like our modern-day monet or something. impressionist paintings.” 

“impressi-what? how do you know this much about art, reno?” iharu asks, wrapping his arm around reno’s neck in a headlock. reno coughs, slapping iharu’s arm. 

“shut up,” reno chokes out, but even as the bickering picks up, hoshina’s gaze is still transfixed on the painting. 

it’s him. no doubt about it. 

“i’ve never talked to them before,” hoshina says after a moment. at once the arguments rattle to a halt, but in the empty relief of silence is the carved truth—that the painting is definitely of him, and its painter was a person who he’d never talked to before in his life. 

“the artist is going to be doing a panel about their exhibition soon,” haruichi says, glancing up at hoshina. “i think they can get me a ticket if i ask.” 

“… just don’t expect me to lighten your laps around the training course,” hoshina says with a chuckle. 

[…]

you hated speaking in front of an audience. cliche, of course, the introverted artist that squirrels away in in their studio—but that was often your reality. you liked to say you wanted your work to ‘speak for itself’, as it were, so you didn’t often make public appearances. 

but your most recent exhibition, featuring the painting of your mysterious dream visitor, created far more buzz than you could have asked for. suddenly everyone and anyone wanted an answer as for who your muse was, why he had a very striking resemblance to soshiro hoshina of the japan anti-kaiju defense force’s third division, and had you gotten permission from hoshina to do it? did you have a specific message surrounding your work?

“just stick to the script,” your manager says to you. “i talked it through with some of the reporters and i wrote some answers for you if you’re scared.” he hands you a slip of paper, and your eyes scan the page, and you swallow the lump in forming in your throat. 

“i shouldn’t have done the painting after all,” you say.

it was strange. in the days and weeks you’d worked on the painting, you hadn’t seen your muse in your dreams at all. you’d been forced to rely on only the memory of the dream–which only seemed to get fuzzier and fuzzier until it became barely a wisp. and now, in those ensuing weeks that the painting has been on exhibition, you almost felt embarrassed of the painting–its vague subject matter might have been charming and a little kitsch, but charming and a little kitsch wasn’t supposed to garner this much attention.

“nonsense,” your manager says. “it’s a wonderful painting.” he pushes you by the back, gently urging you forward. “they’re ready for you.”

you push past the door separating you from the reporters–and then are immediately flashbanged with cameras and lights, and jumbling, layered voices creating a discordant symphony that made you wince.

“um. thank you… for…” you wince as your grip fumbles on your microphone, nearly dropping it, the feedback screeching across speakers. “um. sorry. i’m not exactly the best public speaker–my repertoire of events… like this, isn’t many. but thank you for attending this panel… surrounding my exhibition of my latest work. i’ll answer… a few questions.”

the reporters looked like a jumbled blob for the most part–a thrumming organism of similar faces that melted together into one homogenous mess, a splotch of badly-mixed paint on the palette that you’d scrape away with a knife and discard. 

reciting your manager’s written responses wasn’t the hard part. as you continued to banter, your eyes swept across the crowd.

what were you even doing here?

you wanted to crawl back to your studio, already, and go back to painting. at least then the idea that you’d dreamed up some man who bore a striking resemblance to someone who already existed would fade away with time. and then your eyes found that telltale shade of crimson and purple–for just a moment. and you think his eyes meet yours, too–crimson eyes the exact shade as the one in your dreams. 

his eyes widen. 

“... as you were saying?” a reporter’s words float back to your ears, ephemeral, and you pause.

“can we… no more questions.” you shake your head, finding your vision swimming, blurring, and you raise a hand wiping tears from your face. “sorry. something just… came up–”

and you push into the crowd, trying to find the face from your dreams.

that had to be him, right? his face? it was like as soon as you saw him, the underpainting of your memories flowed back to you–a heartaching loss pounding in your chest. something was wrong. something was missing, because you’d forgotten–and now that you’d remembered it, it hurt. 

“i’m sorry,” you say. 

“you’ve nothing to be sorry for,” the man says to you, and leans in to kiss you. “i’ll find you again in the next life.”

“i’ll remember you,” you say. 

the man watches you, a somewhat sad look on his face.

you press your thumb to the corner of his lip.

“and when i do, i’ll do something big. to capture your attention. and then your eyes will be on me forever.”

you finally manage to catch the man in the crowd, and you realize you’ve seen him before. only once or twice, though–on a small poster or on television. soshiro hoshina, of the third division. you did know this man–but just barely.

he lets out a surprised noise as soon as you collide with him, and you gasp breathlessly. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, looking up at hoshina. “i just… have we…”

“met?” hoshina answers your question, cocking his head, blinking down at you.

“yes,” you say. “i think… i think so. maybe. we… you look familiar.”

hoshina blinks, and then smiles.

it’s so different than the way he smiled at you in your dream. the corners of his lips quirk up, his eyebrows relax almost as he watches you. 

“i thought so too,” hoshina says, and you hear relief in his voice. “so… um. hi.”

“hi,” you respond, and he laughs.

[ace-turned-confused]

planted in your garden | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: joel has always shown his love for you through flowers, and now it's your turn to do the same word count: 1k warnings: 18+ only, reader has tattoos & is shorter than joel, joel being soft & lovey-dovey & just the best in general, bit of spiciness at the end a/n: written for @morallyinept's Fauna & Flora Challenge ❤️ not beta’d or any of that jazz, please enjoy :)

If there’s one thing you know about Joel Miller, it’s that he will always find a reason to buy you flowers, no need for a special occasion. It’s been a long hard week and I wanted to get you something, saw these pretty flowers and thought of my pretty girl, got them just because I love you. Whether it’s an entire bouquet or just a few wild stems tied together by a ribbon, you’re sure he’s given you more flowers than you’ve received in your entire life.

It started on your birthday — you told him you hadn’t planned anything because you didn’t want a big fuss and it wasn’t a number worth celebrating, and he insisted on bringing you dinner so you wouldn’t have to spend the evening on your own. Every number is worth celebrating, it means you’ve been around another whole year. You were floored when he showed up on your doorstep, pizza boxes in one hand and a bunch of red and pink tulips in the other.

“Saw the ink on your arm there and just assumed they were your favourite. None of the stores ever have anything fresh or pretty enough, so I just cut these from my back garden.”

Joel Miller. Cut red and pink tulips for you. From his own garden.

You’d only known each other a few weeks at that stage, and he’d been more observant in that short time than any other man you’d met. At first, you didn’t read into it too much, he’s just doing something nice for you. You told yourself it didn’t matter that this ‘something nice’ was the single nicest thing anyone ever did for you.

You ate your takeout pizzas and talked for hours that night, record player on in the background, sharing stories of years gone by and remembering the person you each used to be. A few stray tears even slipped down your cheek at one point — Joel moved to sit close next to and almost on instinct you rested your head on his shoulder. It was oddly comforting knowing just how vulnerable you could be around him. He was a kind soul, a rather rare find in today’s world, and you found it surprisingly easy to open up to him.

You asked him for a hug that night and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him, his chin resting on the top of your head and it was the safest you felt in years. Of course, and next time you don’t have to ask. You smiled into him, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. He eventually pulled back to check on you and planted a hand on your waist; he bid you goodnight with a wink, called you sweetheart and went home, leaving you standing like an idiot, mouth hanging open in a daze and still feeling the heat that had radiated off his palm and the grip of his fingers through your shirt on your skin.

‘Sweetheart’ played in your mind over and over for hours, days, weeks after that — soon enough you acknowledged that you weren’t immune to his charms and you’ve never looked back.

The flowers aren’t only for you to enjoy — you noticed early on that Joel takes great pride in his garden. The lawn always mowed, flower beds always with manicured edges, bees and butterflies in abundance. You’ve spent many hours lounging in the sun just admiring him, your book long abandoned — temples and greying curls damp with sweat, t-shirt clinging to his arms and back, gym shorts showing him off deliciously, all while he potters around tending to his garden, refilling a bird bath, touching up the fence and spewing out endless plant facts.

He even expanded the bed of tulips, planting bulbs of different varieties and an array of colours — ones with frilly edges, ones with pointed petals, and even blooms that look almost hand-painted in their beauty. He told you he’d been planning this for months, long before he met you, but you knew that part of him was doing this for you, too.

Late one night he finally told you the red and pink of your birthday flowers represented eternal love and affection, and sheepishly admitted he only remembered that once he’d already knocked on your door. He had hoped you wouldn’t ask him the meanings that night and figured there must’ve been someone looking out for him when you simply accepted them with a dazzling smile and that twinkle in your eyes. He wonders how things might have played out differently if you had asked him that night.

Now it’s Joel’s birthday and you want to do something special for him — so here you are, lying underneath him in a matching set, simple and white and covered in daisies. Propped up by his elbows, he traces over a flower right in the centre of your bra.

“You gonna tell me anything about them?”

“Daisies supposedly represent innocence and purity…” His voice fades off as he trails his fingers featherlight across you, goosebumps rising in his wake. With a faint smile pulling at his lips, he lifts his gaze to look you in the eye. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

He leans to kiss you, tongue licking into your mouth and you feel him pressed against your core, thick and heavy. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he grinds his hips into you, your fingers raking through his hair and tugging ever so slightly. He pulls back and starts snaking a hand down between you, now taken by the same applique daisies on your panties.

“Not sure those words apply right now, though,” he whispers to you, knuckles grazing the fabric.

“What, ‘innocence and purity’? You don’t think that’s true about daisies?”

“I ain’t talkin’ bout the daisies, sweetheart.” He smirks at you and you simply grin at him and huff a laugh in response as he shuffles down your body to pull your panties down your legs.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[magicians-abode]

Saw this post on my page as I was scrolling and immediately got inspired, so I opened my notes and started writing. This is fresh out of my brain, so enjoy! ♡~

Characters Included: Laios Touden; Kabru of Utaya; Asra Alnazar; Yaad Melini; Thistle

Warnings: none - fluff

If you ever were to approach him and decided to ask him "what exactly is so great about me?" Oh he'd start slowly pointing out "obvious" things. They're obvious to him, maybe not to you if you're insecure about yourself, but hell they are one of the first things that stand out to him. He'd look at you with a gentle smile as he points out how your hands fit so nicely in his. How he loves the feeling on your skin against his when he's holding you, caressing you ever so softly.

He loves the way the sun hits your hair, whether it be short, long, tied up or not, the sunrays always manage to tangle in your locks and create a soft angelical halo around your pretty head. He adores the way your chest subtly rises and falls when you breathe in and out, and how if he were to rest his pretty head over the place where your heart is, it'd lull him to sleep, creating a soft rhythm for his ears.

And then he would start going more into depth about things. Don't expect him to just answer with a: "you're pretty/beautiful, smart, funny" because that just simply won't do. It's not enough to describe how it makes his heart feel whole and full of light.

Speaking of full of light; "have you got any idea of how beautifully your eyes shine whenever you smile?"

He says your voice feels like it's carried by the wind itself whenever you speak. It's beautiful. Never too loud, never too soft, just perfect for him to listen to you all day long without getting tired.

"It's as easy as breathing to love you, and more necessary than air itself" he'd declare, placing a hand over his heart, swearing it on his life.

He likes your curves: your stomach, your shoulders, your hips, your legs, and not sexually, no he'd never just mean it that way. He loves the way you carry yourself, the way you walk and how your hips shift with every step, how your arms swing softly by your sides and how your hair seems to softly bounce.

In your face lay the most gorgeous features any painter would've loved to portray in a portrait, that years later, would end up in a museum for everyone to admire and gush about how breathtaking the model was.

Lips as soft as a summer breeze, refreshing and always leaving you wanting for more. Eyes as bright as the sun, eyelashes as its rays of light. Cheeks sometimes the canvas of a gentle blush whenever you're too cold, or feel too shy.

He loves you from the inside out and from head to toe, and that is something that will never change. It didn't happen yesterday, it won't happen today, and it won't happen tomorrow either. You are a beautiful child of nature, made of beauty and love, meant to be happy and even more.

In his eyes, perfection has a definition, and it's you.

A/N: I've been racking my brain all day trying to get inspo to write what has been in my ask box for days now, but instead wrote this. I'm happy but also disappointed in myself ;-; please tell me this happens to someone else too (this is me:)

[seattlesellie]

no bc why does ellie give off older brother’s sorta meanish friend who’s always teasing you ….

mean older brother’s friend ellie hc’s ☁️

cw: smut, mentions of alcohol

♡ mean!bbf ellie who’s introduction to you isn’t a nice or comfortable one. it's rather... bizarre. you had just finished showering, your hair still fully wet, tiny droplets of water flowing down your body. you leave the bathroom in a tiny towel, mindless as ever because this is your house, and as soon as you open the door, she just stands there. she was literally about to walk in, probably to pee or something, and she fucking startles you because who the hell is this absolute converse wearing, messy auburn haired stranger standing in front of your door?!

your parents may have told you something about your brother coming home from college for the holidays… perhaps with a certain girl this time, and you were just happy he finally got a girlfriend, or something. when you see her… yeah. thats definitely not his girlfriend. she’s so… i mean, you get it. she doesn’t look like someone who’d be into his type.

you huff out a small squeal when you’re startled by the absolute stranger, and she seems to be completely unbothered, although… her eyes wander down for a second before she catches your gaze. “who the fuck are you?” you gasp, and automatically hold the towel with a tighter grip to your body, since it almost fell off completely when you lifted your hands up out of pure panic. “ellie” she says with a smirk. she brings her hand forward to form a handshake, clearly aware that if you lifted your hand up, the towel will completely fall down. when you hold the fabric even tighter, she sighs, and places her hand back in her pocket. “are you my brother’s girlfriend?” you question, and she looks at you like you’re so fucking dumb. “do i look… like your brothers girlfriend?”

♡ mean!bbf ellie who decides that fucking with you is the funniest thing on earth, since ticking you off and making you go completely mad seems to be too easy, and one day when you have a simple dinner, just you, ellie and your brother— (since your parents maybe… went off to visit some relatives for the night) they have a conversation and she seems to completely ignore you, and he obviously does too. when they talk about something apparently “hilarious” that happened in college, a dumb thing a guy said during a lecture— as you play with your fork, squishing the food down on the plate, you decide to butt in on the conversation.

“something exactly like that happened in one of my cla—“ you quip, and ellie fully side eyes you and huffs under her breath. when she sees you stutter on your words since that look was so mean, she mocks you completely.

“my class— i mean, one t—ti”

“t—t t- what… you can’t talk?” she smirks, and tilts her head to the side. then, ellie immediately looks over to your brother and sighs. “didn’t know your sister had a stuttering problem”.

he giggles like an idiot and they immediately move on to a different topic, leaving you completely embarrassed, hot in the face and incredibly famished. you can't even eat— what if she says you chew funny.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who plays the stupidest, meanest pranks on you. they vary from hiding on the other side of the door and jumping on you with a terrifying scream, to replacing the sugar with salt in your tea like a literal 12 year old. ellie cant help but grow obsessed with how loud you yell and how your eyes pop out of your head, stomping your feet on the floor whenever you’re pissed at her. something about the way you snicker and tell her that you wish she returned to her stupid college already, the way you add an “ellieuhhhh” to the end of every sentence really just satisfies her deeply, for some reason she doesn’t… fully get yet.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who plays soccer with your brother in the yard, all sweaty with her bangs sticking to her forehead, dressed in basketball shorts and a stupidly tight tank top that make her stupidly tight abs pop out because she’s so stupidly damp with sweat, and you’re staring out of the window of your room like a creep. you’d usually rather not join because she has made it very clear that she doesn’t want to be around you unless you’re squirming or growing absolutely embarrassed. unfortunately, you’re so freaking bored and the weather outside truly is so nice— barely cloudy, the grass shining green and— fuck it. you pace downstairs, and stand stupidly still in the yard for a moment, before you gain the courage to ask if you can join. ellie obviously doesn’t want you on her team (she’d much rather humiliate you by taking the ball out of your feet at any given chance) so your brother has to take you in. you skip around the living room to put on some sneakers and when you join— it’s on. clearly, it’s not a proper game of soccer with only three players, but it’s their own version of it, and their own version is incredibly aggressive. all they do is yell at each other and elbow one another in order to keep away from the ball, and once you magically have it intertwined between your legs (your brother had finally passed it to you after literally begging for ten whole minutes) ellie makes sure to run as fast as she can, kick it violently out of your legs (that is definitely a foul, red card for ellie) and swiftly nudge you so that you fall on the grass with your nose bumping into it’s softness. she moves to stand right above you, towering over your body completely, and she's laughing her lungs out. she moves to the side to cover the sun from glowing directly in your eyes, just to force you to look into her and see how happy she is to humiliate you again. you’re absolutely pissed now, so you push your legs forward and kick her right back— she falls over you, her chest right on top of yours.

she’s heaving and panting, and you swear you could almost taste the sweat slowly leaking on her forehead. the world literally stops.

“you’re so fucking dumb” she snickers, and lifts herself off of you.

you go into your room to punch a pillow. shes so fucking annoying.

she goes into her room to do something… different. you’re so fucking annoying.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who always rolls her eyes when she sees you come closer, and constantly gives your brother those certain looks, that she clearly makes to piss you off and watch that little pout form on your lips. one morning, you walk over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and ellie’s in her pajamas (for some reason, you really can’t stop looking at her arms, since she’s only wearing a wife beater and some low hanging sweats). when you greet her with a chipper good morning, she mumbles a lazy “morning” back, and when you lift yourself up on your toes to grab your favorite mug, she sees your shorts ride up a bit and her breath completely cages in her throat. she considers coming over and helping you, but hearing your sweet, breathy little huffs is so much nicer.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who finds you extremely attractive, and wishes you stopped walking around the house in tiny outfits (she wouldn’t be too far off if she called them literal napkins) because you’re making it very hard to concentrate when she works on a project with your brother in the living room and you just happen to walk by, carrying a tray of freshly squeezed lemonade and offer it to them. and she hates how fucking kind you remain even though shes so mean, so she gets even meaner and tells you that the lemonade tastes bad. she spits it out inside the glass, and the way you squint your eyebrows and ask her if she wants you to make her a new one literally tugs at her heartstrings. she tells you; “s’fine, you shouldn’t be near a kitchen, like— ever again. tastes awful” and when you take the glass out of her hand and walk off without even commenting anything back, she huffs a silent “shit” under her breath and closes her eyes for a second.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who one day has a super… weird dream about you. you lounged inside a lively kitchen— but it wasn’t the one she grew familiar with. it was mostly filled with mahogany furniture, an aqua green stove and a peach colored carpet. you were baking something, and it smelled like maple and cherry and vanilla and peach cobbler, it smelled messy and like an explosion of sweetness but god, she felt the hunger in her sleep. you stood there in a little apron, and just when you shut the stove��s lid up, she hugged you from behind. she smelled your neck, and wrapped her arms around you. “smells nice, babe” she whispered. you turned around and smiled at her so big, and just as you closed your eyes and parted your lips— she woke up.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who can’t. stop. thinking. about that freaking dream. she wakes up and she feels parched, and so fucking confused. she bumps her palm against her forehead and decides she needs a tall, refreshing glass of water before she tries to slumber again, because god knows she wont be able to. she goes downstairs to the kitchen, and gets so startled when she sees your shadow standing over the stove, its just like that dream but you're not baking, there's just a bowl of cereal in your hands and random music silently coming out of your phone. when she jumps— you jump too. and you drop the whole entire bowl and the milk is now running all over your top.

“jesus fucking christ!” you gasp, and when you see that it’s ellie, her face all puffy from sleep, your heart thuds in your chest. you’ve never been… completely alone with her, not ever since you met her outside of the shower for the first time, anyways.

“why are you standing like a creep in the kitchen in the middle of the night?!” she questions.

“i was… eating”

“at 3am?”

“yes and now i guess i wont be eating anymore since you made me— drop! the entire bowl!”

for some reason, she tells you that she’s sorry. maybe it’s that fucking dream—

she hastily grabs some paper towels and helps you wipe. she’s awkwardly rubbing all over the material and shes being extremely stupid because clearly you can just change your top, this is your house after all, and your closet is right there, but she doesn’t seem to be able to stop wiping and whispering that she’s sorry and she’s tugging at your top and it… makes her flustered so she fucking stops, and throws the paper towel on the counter.

“clean yourself up— you’re the weirdo awake at 3am”

(she was right where you stood yesterday, eating some cheese puffs on the floor while watching a gaming stream but she obviously wont mention that)

♡ mean!bbf ellie who instead of surrendering to her feelings that are obviously starting to creep up, decides to grow even meaner. it’s not just random comments and stupid pranks anymore, it’s quite literally pure evilness. when she watches a film with your brother, a bowl of popcorn in her hands and some fuzzy socks, cuddled up inside a thin blanket on the couch, you decide to make an appearance. you, bored out of your mind, decided to to join in on the fun. usually, ellie had no problem if you just lounged in the living room while they watched television or played video games, because you would quite literally be completely mute and not bother them at all, untill ellie made a joke (“that dude’s head looks like the titanic’s fucking iceberg”) that you couldn’t help but laugh at. when you laughed, so hard you practically wheezed, it kind of made her feel soft and icky and she wanted to slap it out of her. today, when she saw you slide into the living room from the corner of her eye, she deadpanned completely.

“no— no, we’re not watching this with you” she snickered, and her tone was so serious and it didn’t even carry a glimmer of teasing, it was purely just mean.

you scrunch your eyebrows, and huff a quiet “what? why?”

“because you’re fucking annoying and we don’t want you around”

you went pure silent, just staring at the floor.

“why are you still standing there? go” she waved her hand, as if she was kicking out a small, pesky little animal.

you really weren’t a crybaby, but you truly didn’t deserve this. for some reason, a lump formed down your throat, and your eyes glistened. you climbed up to your room and silently sniffled.

even your brother thought she was being too mean now.

“that was kinda… fucked up”

ellie brushed her tongue on the side of her mouth, and clenched her jaw. she knows.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who notices you appear less and less around the house. mean bbf ellie, who really isn’t a bad person, she isn’t even that fucking mean, she just can’t handle her feelings and masks them completely untill you absolutely hate her guts. after that night— the night where she kicked you off to your room, you don’t chipper a good morning. you enter the kitchen, groggy and quiet, make a drink and disappear to your room with the cup in your hand. you don’t make lemonade anymore, and you don’t even laugh when she makes a stupid joke. mean ellie who misses your laugh, and tries so hard to hear it again, but fails miserably.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who loses it completely when you decide to go out to a party one night. you’re so quiet it feels almost as if you’re sneaking out, but you truly aren’t. you’re just scared she’ll make a mean comment on your dress or tell you that you look stupid with your makeup done like that.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who stares you down completely, and shamelessly checks you out when you twist the doorknob in order to leave the house.

“wh… where are you going?” she questions, and it’s so hard to keep it cool when you look so good and your thighs are on full display with your ass almost popping out of your dress. it makes her gulp because she fucking knows it’s not for her. you’re gonna go out and you’ll have people gawking over you and it drives her crazy.

“party” you simply mutter.

“dressed like that?” she clearly runs her eyes all over your body.

she's going to say something mean again. you just know it.

“really don’t have the time or the energy for your comments right now, ellie”

she wishes you added that cute uuuh, at the end of her name. you don’t.

“you look… stay safe—“

“i look what, ellie?”

“nice. y’look nice”

you shut the door. she just complimented you. that was a first.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who waits for you to come back from the party because she’s worried. she doesn’t admit it to herself, and excuses it by thinking she just can’t fall asleep because the winds too loud or the room’s too hot, so she just lays awake, waiting to hear your footsteps and your room’s door close shut— but you don’t. seem. to come. home. she feels sick because what if something happened to you— and then she feels completely stupid because you’re an adult and you’ve probably been to numerous parties already, but she can’t help but feel it in her guts. what if something happened to you? what if you drank too much and god forbid— what if you went home with somebody? she falls into the mattress with a thud and stares at the ceiling for half an hour, just picturing you making out with someone and them grabbing your waist or your ass and now she feels like she’s about to punch the damn wall— and then she hears you. you’re humming a song, specifically— cash shit by megan thee stallion, and you sound obviously drunk. she can’t let you go to sleep like that.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who propels the door open, to see you sliding down the wall, smelling like alcohol and sweet perfume and she feels sickly but she needs to take care of you, so she grabs you by the waist, guide you through the corridor, opens the door to your room and puts you down on your bed. she coo’s at you to stay quiet and calm for her.

“yeaupp m’in my baggg but im in his too…” you blabber, and burst out laughing.

“okay— okay, you good? you got contacts you need to remove? if you’re gonna throw up, i’ll get a bucket” she whispers, as she watches you swing back and forth. you look so pretty it’s incredible hard for her to be calm.

“some new sh—shoes… blah… mwahhhhh” you pull out your tongue and pucker your lips. you look incredibly silly and she swallows a giggle.

“you’re wasted, aren’t you?” now she's just caressing your face. why does she feel like she's going to faint?

“k— not t’wasted… you’re wasted… you’re wasted and pp—pretty” you mumble.

“huh?” thank god you’re drunk, because shes full on blushing.

“pretty pretty els…. s’pretty and so evil and m—mean and pretty…. like a millions pretty but—b’millions evil… so e—evil”

she decides to just shut the fuck up. keep going.

“i k—kissed somebody”

and now she’s the one who feels like she’s gonna puke.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who decides to completely give you the silent treatment. you didn’t even do anything, but god it feels like she hates you now.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who confronts you about that stupid kiss and asks you who the fuck dared to kiss a drunk girl, and you look so panicked and afraid, and it hurts when she tells you she’s gonna let your brother know and that he’s gonna kick their ass and you’re gonna be done for.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who fully breaks one day. it’s the last week of her and your brothers visit, and you haven’t talked to her for three whole days. she feels it inside of her chest, and every time you come near, it becomes harder and harder not to push you against the counter and kiss the hell out of your lips. it’s hard to stop staring and it’s hard to keep her distance so she confronts you.

“you know you told me i’m pretty, right? before you threw up on the fucking bed?”

your eyes pop out of your head. you feel absolutely embarrassed. no you didn’t.

“i did not— what? what the hell is the matter with you?” you huff, and back away.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who comes closer and closer the more you back away, because it’s becoming incredibly difficult to keep that distance apart, so she makes sure you can feel her breath on your lips and makes sure it makes you shiver— before she mutters a loud “fuck it” and takes your lips between her’s.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who kisses you so hard, it truly feels like you've never been kissed before. nothing could ever compare. when she takes your lips between her's, and sucks on the bottom one, just to hear a sweet little breath leave your mouth, she grunts. it feels like everything she's ever felt was flowing out of her body and crashing onto yours. when she squeezes your waist, and pulls you in closer so her chest bumps into yours— she breaks the kiss to look at you. my god, you're panting, and flushed, and she can feel you shaking.

"i'm sorry" she mutters, and she truly isn't, but if you keep on shaking like that, she's gonna have to start running away.

"please— don't stop"

honestly, she wasn't planning on stopping.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who picks you up, and as your legs automatically intertwine with each other on her lower back, takes you to your room and bangs you up on the door.

“what— what are you doing?” you ask, and it’s completely interrupted when her lips land on yours again. she can’t do this anymore, she can’t keep playing with you because if you kiss another person again who isn’t her she swears she’s gonna run out and beat them up, or even worse— kill them completely, and she can’t help but moan against your lips because you’re so fucking cute when you let out those noises and she needs to touch you right now or she’ll die.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who need's to hear you add that little "uuuh" at the end of her name after you kiss her because she'd imagined it too many times.

"say my name like— fuck"

"say it like you fucking do when you're pissed at me— say it"

somehow, you immediately know what she means.

"ellieuuuh!"

she's never swallowed so hard in her life. she looks at you like she's famished, and she growls. when ellie kisses you again, it feels like you're going to crash down and die.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who eats you out like shes starved in your childhood bedroom. swirls her tongue and spits on your cunt and tells you to “keep fucking quiet” or else your brother will hear, and he’s right in the next room and she told him she just went to get something to eat, so she shoves your little panties right in your mouth and holds your stomach down on the bed with her two hands, parts your pussy lips so far apart they practically burn and she goes on and on till you cum on her face twice. “atta fucking girl just like that… just like that”

♡ mean!bbf ellie who plays with your clit in little circles, sits with your back pressed against her chest, and growls every time she sees feels hole clench around her. she tells you to be a good little whore for her and take her fingers before she gives you her strap, and you don’t even know why she has it with her because— is she fucking other girls?

♡ mean!bbf ellie who isn't fucking other girls— she just brought it because she... well, maybe she looked at your brother's facebook before coming over and she happened to stumble across a very, very pretty girl

♡ mean!bbf ellie who slaps your pussy hard every time you yell out her name— “you better keep fucking quiet or m’not letting you cum” and then shoves your panties even deeper inside of your mouth till you’re almost gagging, and only takes them out by replacing them with her cunt, and makes you eat her out completely controlled by the sway of her hips as she grinds herself down and god— she fucking needs it because getting off to you from knowing you were right next to her room truly wasn’t enough so she makes sure you make her feel good, and pats your cheeks every time your tongue swirls around her clit just right.

♡ mean!bbf ellie who straps you down on the bed, whispers short circuited “take it. take it. take it” every time it hits that one spot inside of your cunt, and makes you whisper in her ear to fuck you harder and faster because hearing your sweet little voice saying these obscenities is making her clit pump and brush on the bottom of her harness just right. “you gonna be my good fucking girl— make me fucking cum inside you? hmmph?”

she can’t help but… ask you,

“you want your brother to know how much of a fucking slut you are? letting his best f—fucking friend fuck you like this?” and all you can do is whine and hiccup broken sobs of “n—no ellie dont want him to know!”

“think you fucking do— if you keep on fucking screaming like this”

♡ mean!bbf ellie who… makes you cockwarm her strap while watching tv. this time, she doesn’t kick you out. with your brother’s eyes glued to the screen, watching E.T, it’s very easy to miss out on the bulge that’s hiding inside of ellie’s sweats. she signals you to come sit on her lap, and you just nod and whisper “no”, because what if he see’s— but she grabs your waist, slides you to sit right on her lap, pulls your pants and your panties down, and god— you’re already soaking just from being around her. she makes you roll your hips down her strap, separating your pussy lips apart and rub yourself all over it, guiding your motions with her hands. she can barely keep quiet herself because the way you whimper so softly and slap a hand on your mouth makes her lose it. she knows you wont be able to keep quiet if she bounced you up and down.

“stop being so loud” your brother snickers, and he almost… almost turns his head to the side. if he looked— he’d see his little sister sitting right on his best friend’s lap. that same best friend who kicked you out, same best friend who teased and mocked— what if he sees?

“shh… shh— just sit on it” she whispers in your ear and you shiver. you obey, and move your hips up. its almost too big, you have to swallow a screech when it slides inside of your hole. you want to bounce on it so bad, but your brothers still fucking awake. she almost snickers at how easily it went up inside, your slick completely swallowing it whole, but she stops herself. her could wake up at any given moment.

“keep on sitting on it” she grabs your thighs and digs her nails into them. “don’t move” and whenever you do—, eagerly attempting to disobey her, she pulls you down and grinds you deep on it, making sure you're caged inside. when she hears the quiet shores of your older brother sound asleep in the background, she starts fucking it into you deep. she thrusts her hips forward, and you don’t even have to move a muscle, you really did earn it after all.

"such a good fucking girl— have to make it up to you"

♡ mean!bbf ellie who sneaks little spanks, and grabs your tits whenever no ones looking, creeping up on you from behind and smelling your neck— just like she did in her dream. she kisses and kisses and almost doesn’t care if she gets caught— she has only three days left.

will you go away with her, or are you going to have to wait till next year’s visit? <3

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 7th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: Kinkmas day 7 already! Ready to see who is waiting you behind the door? Then open up, love, they are excited to see you! Thank you so much for your time and I hope you enjoy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Shane (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 1328 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: physical labour, degredation, cursing, breath play/choking, raw sex, Shane has an axe, but he knows what he is doing!-

Winter wasn’t necessarily Shane’s favourite season, but it was a season where he knew what he had to do, especially now that he was living on the farm with you. Fixing fences so they would survive the snowy burdens that would soon rest upon them, making sure the barns, coops and huts were up to speed and fixing whatever was needed, from feeders, to heaters, to troughs, he fucking fixed it. Getting the boiler ready in your house so you could stay nice and warm, and, of course, one of the tasks he kept an especially careful eye out for: firewood. He always made sure to keep a pile of wood behind the house, neatly stacked, just ready to be smashed into smaller pieces and carried into the house in that basket he had gotten specifically for that reason – the perfect size to last you for two days, and easy enough to carry (at least for him). He always made sure that basket stayed full and thus making sure the house stayed warm for the two of you, especially for those cozy nights you shared in front of the TV watching cheesy Christmas movies (to be honest, Shane often fell asleep as soon as the two main characters met, but even in his dozing state his hand kept running through your hair lazily, so you didn’t mind too much).

“Gonna cut some firewood,” Shane told you as he tied up his heavy winter boots, making you look up from the bowl of dough you had prepared for making some holly jolly cookies. “Don’t you wanna take a coat, Shane? It’s freezing out there.” “Gonna get hot cuttin’ wood, don’t worry ‘bout me.” He walked past you with a tender kiss to the head and a rather sloppy smack to the ass, gripping the axe on his way out, making you roll your eyes with a small smile.

You had looked out of the window at some point to see how far your husband had come, after all, you had been hearing the rhythmic cracking of wood being split and dropped into the basket for a while now. What you saw was…certainly something to see. Your husband, with his broad shoulders and big arms stretching as he had lifted the axe, letting it come down on the piece of wood, cracking it open. Holy fuck. You could see the muscles of his arms flex despite him wearing a hoodie, and you had been pretty sure his back muscles looked just as fucking good. And again he went, placing a chunk of wood on the log, lifting the axe just to let it come down quickly. His whole body had been working, tensing up to collect its strength, just to release all of that pent-up energy at once. You hadn’t been sure how long you had been watching, and you still weren’t quite sure how you ended up sitting on that log that Shane had just used to cut wood, his long, girthy cock nestled deeply inside of your pussy, the handle of the axe pressed against your throat, pinning you right against the shed behind you. He hadn’t added enough pressure for you to struggle breathing yet, but certainly enough for you to be drooling around his fat cock. The way he was fucking you was so mean, too! Taking his time to pull his hips back, moving slowly even, just to fuck his cock right back into you with a force that made your whole body feel like you were being split like a piece of firewood. “You are so wet already, little slut- and I have barely even fuckin’ started. Did that turn you on that much, huh? Watchin’ me chop some wood? That’s what’s makin’ this cunt spew? Fuckin’ pathetic,” he growled, smacking your thigh with the hand that wasn’t holding you pinned to the wall, his dick rutting inside those squishy walls again, making you choke around a moan that couldn’t quite escape. “Kissin’ my dick, baby? You’re basically suckin’ it in, princess- fuck, you feel so good, you know that? Warmin’ me up like that, warmin’ me up with that pretty little whore cunt that I love so much- fuck, I fuckin’ love you,” he rambled, pressing the axe a little tighter when he saw that dumb look in your eyes, the one you always got when you were completely cock-drunk. He just couldn’t help himself, needed to move faster, needed to pound that pussy -after all, that’s what you had come out for, wasn’t that right? Fuck that little spiel about “wanting to bring him a hot chocolate”, he had seen you standing at that window for minutes. Had even put on a little extra show for you, flexing his arms a little more, grunting a little more heavily. And it had worked – perfectly so. “Dirty lil thing saw me work and got horny, ain’t that it? Huh? Yeahhhh, clench that dick, princess, that’s fuckin’ it, take it, fuckin’ take it all.”

His voice was edging on a snarl again, underlined by a huffed groan as he was rutting into you roughly, his hand collecting a fistful of hair to tug your head back, making you look up at him. Yoba, he was down bad for you, that fucked-out face making his dick twitch, balls pulling tight. He needed you to know how fucking much he loved you, needed you to fucking now that you were his everything, that for you, he would walk for hours to keep you warm, that for you, he’d give the shirt off his back- His thrusts turned into something more frantic, quick, hard humps that made you bounce on the log you had been placed on, the wooden handle, still warm from Shane’s hand, keeping you from yelling out his name as your pussy was ruthlessly bullied by him. But Shane didn’t need your words. He knew you, and he knew just what exactly you needed. “Fuckin’ little princess slut, being fucked out here in the cold by me, just ‘cause she couldn’t wait to get dicked down inside,” he hissed, the pressure on the handle now enough to have you struggle for air, even more so when you felt Shane’s cock twitch deep inside of you. If he kept this up, you were going to cum sooner rather than later, your head already spinning, brain short-circuiting with the fuck-induced bliss you were in. Your mouth was hanging open as you tried to let your moans, a small trail of drool dribbling from the corner of your lips, hips weakly trying to take Shane’s hard fucks. “You’re gonna cum, arentcha? Gonna cum all over my cock? Out here? Fuckin’ hell, you are dirty, slut, a dirty fuckin’ whore,” he laughed, albeit a little shaky. His thumb found your clit, giving it a mean, hard swipe, only adding fuel to the arousal you were already feeling. You were close, you knew it. And Shane knew it, too. Your thighs had started to twitch, and your cunt was already beginning to spasm a little as your breathing came out in quick and needy little puffs against the wooden handle. But just as you were about to be pushed over the edge, the pressure was gone, just like the stretch of Shane’s meaty, thick cock. “What?-,” you whined, voice a little shaky and breathless, the whiplash from being dropped from the high you had just been able to taste making you tear up, lower lip quivering. Your husband, however, seemed composed as he tucked away his cock that had just been buried balls-deep inside your still gushing cunt. “I wasn’t done yet,” he hummed, looking down at you sternly, helping you up on your feet and buttoning up your pants, wiping his thumb over your still quivering lip, collecting that droplet of drool before licking it off, “and I gotta keep my princess warm now, don’t I?”

[cloudyskydreams]

Hi, I love the way you write and represent Sans with every detail, I was wondering if you could do a SFW AND NSFW headcanon of SansxReader. If you don't mind of course

Hi thanks so much for requesting, you asked and I shall deliver!! I'm just assuming they're general headcanons since it wasn't specific, I've been meaning to get around to some general headcanons because I feel they're a good way to work out some personality✨ I did masc and femme sans nsfw headcanons and left the reader ambiguous, As always hope you enjoy!!

Sfw:

•Expect alot of lazy cuddle times, they're his favorite he just loves being near you really, and his constant state is tired so being able to just take it easy with you is nice.

•On a completely opposite note you do motivate sans to do stuff he normally wouldn't. He'll get off the couch and out of bed to spend some time outside with you, his favorite date place is still grillbys but he'll try out new places with you sometimes.

•He sends you memes that make him think of you or he finds funny even if he's right next to you and can just show you. He'll send it and then watch you for your response, he'll make a joke about your phone going off if you don't check it immediately.

• The patrons at Grillbys get updated on you occasionally. Sans feels comfortable there and he knows most of the people so he lets his guard down and you're really special to him. So he ends up gushing about you and what you've done together ,nothing private of course, after a few drinks and his buddies are all really happy for him. They think you're good for him he seems a lot more stable since you came into his life.

•Sans will absolutely drag you out of bed to stargaze, he gets excited like a kid on Christmas his eyelights big and shining as he drags you outside with his telescope. He always plans little dates when there's going to be a space event like a super moon or meteor shower. He loves being able to indulge in his interest with you and hopes you have as great a time as he does.

•He loves making you actually laugh with his jokes and it makes him feel good and he loves hearing your laugh. It makes him feel proud of himself anytime he gets even a smile out of you.

•Sans just loves being close to you he'll follow you around the house, if you're doing dishes he has his arms wrapped around your waist and his head on your back. On the couch? His head is in your lap or he's just sprawled out over you. In the bathroom? If you're comfortable with it he's sitting in there with you on his phone looking at memes. Just enjoys being in your presence in general.

NSFW:

•One of Sans favorite things is giving oral, he gets to be between your thighs and can go at whatever pace he wants. He's an absolute tease and is definetly into edging while doing this as he wants to spend as much time in between your thighs as possible.

•Sans is a switch preference towards bottom. Not saying sub because he's still a teasing prick when he's underneath you but it's not hard to get him to sub. He looks pretty cute face flushed cornflower blue, moaning underneath you as you ride his cock/eat him out while his hands are tied to the bedsheet.

•Cockwarming is a big thing with him too, he likes to just lay there cuddled together while he's inside you watching a movie or on your phones. He likes to see how long you can last before you start moving as he's pretty patient. He might grind into your occasionally if he's in a teasing mood.

•On the opposite note if you want him to be on top he's more than happy to help. He enjoys snail position alot because he's close to your calves and can bite on them, or anything that really gets him close to your legs as he is a leg man.

•Feel like his ecto-cock is about 5.7 inches not the biggest but it's girthy and has some vein to it, his ectobody itself is chubby. In femme form he's got d cup tits and his chub is still there but he has more of a hourglass figure than before, and a cute blue innie pussy. (There's innies and outies y'all you're welcome for the info)

•His go to is the masc form but if you want femme he'll give you femme. Squeezing his plush thighs as you eat him out. A blush across his face as he watches you eyes lidded praising you for doing such a good job slipping a joke in there somewhere while he gently presses your face closer with a hand on the back of your head.

[agiiiiiiiiiiiii]

Until Now

Hiii. Let me know if you would like part 2.

nico hischier x reader

Theme: fluff, friends to lovers

Words: 3565

—————————————————————————

Walking into the Prudential Center as an official part of the New Jersey Devils’ staff feels surreal. You’ve been in locker rooms before, worked with athletes at the highest level, but there’s something different about this. Maybe it's because the team is new to you or perhaps it's because one particular player isn't.

Nico Hischier.

He doesn’t know you’ve been hired yet. The team only found out a few days ago that they were getting a new physio, and with their game schedule, there wasn’t much time for introductions. You were hired based on your experience, and despite your history working in high-performance hockey, you can’t shake the nerves buzzing in your stomach.

“Hey, you must be the new physio,” one of the trainers greets you as you step into the medical room, offering you a warm smile. “I’m Mike. Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks,” you say, shaking his hand. “Excited to get started.”

“Good,” Mike grins. “You’ll fit right in. Most of the guys are good about their recovery, but you’ll quickly find that some of them think they’re invincible.”

You smirk, already knowing exactly who he’s talking about. “Let me guess—hockey players who refuse to admit when they’re hurt?”

Mike chuckles. “Exactly. You’ll see soon enough.”

Before long, the locker room begins to fill as players trickle in from the morning skate, each offering a greeting and a warm welcome to the team. You’re busy organizing some rehab protocols when you hear a familiar voice.

“Mike, do you have time to check my—”

Nico stops mid-sentence when he sees you.

You turn, trying not to smile too wide, but the look on his face is priceless. His eyebrows shoot up, mouth slightly open, like his brain is short-circuiting trying to process what’s happening.

Your story with Nico was never simple.

You met through mutual friends years ago, at some party where the music was too loud and the drinks were flowing, but somehow, the two of you had ended up in a corner talking like you’d known each other forever.

From the start, there was something there—something easy, something that made you gravitate toward him without even meaning to. And from what you had heard from his friends, that feeling wasn’t one-sided. Nico fancied you. A lot.

And you couldn’t say you weren’t interested.

But something was always in the way.

One of you was always in a relationship or tied up in something that made timing impossible. There were stolen glances, lingering conversations, maybe even a fleeting moment where it almost happened—but it never did.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

So you remained in each other’s orbit, moving closer, then apart, again and again—like fate had a twisted sense of humor. You would see him at gatherings, catch up with ease, laugh at inside jokes like no time had passed.

But the years passed. Life happened. And eventually, you convinced yourself that maybe this was all it would ever be.

Until you got the offer to work for the Devils - an opportunity you couldn’t turn down.

You told yourself it wouldn’t change anything. That after so much time apart, you and Nico had both moved on, that whatever almost existed between you had faded into nothing more than a fond memory.

Being around him again would be fine. Easy. A reminder of the years before, when timing was never on your side but friendship had always been enough.

But now, standing here—seeing the way his eyes linger on you, the way his expression flickers between surprise and something deeper. You can’t help but wonder if this was ever going to be as simple as you tried to convince yourself it would be.

“You’re—” He blinks. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Nico,” you say, teasing.

He runs a hand through his hair, still looking completely thrown. “Wait. You—are you working here?”

You nod, trying to suppress a laugh. “Just started today.”

Before Nico can respond, Jack walks in, glancing between the two of you. “Oh, you two know each other?,” he says, grinning. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Cap.”

Nico finally snaps out of it, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “No one told me about this.”

Mike chuckles from the side. “Surprise.”

Nico glances at you again, and you can see the way his mind is racing. You've always meant something to him—unacknowledged, lingering, yet constant. And now? Now you’re part of his world in a way he never saw coming.

Jack slaps a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Man, this is gonna be so fun to watch.”

You laugh, meeting Nico’s eyes. “Looks like you’re stuck with me now, Captain.”

Nico exhales, shaking his head with a half-smile.

————

Over the next few months, you and Nico fall into an easy rhythm as always—friendly banter finds its way back into your dynamic. You joke with him during treatments, roll your eyes when he insists he doesn’t need rest days, and sometimes, you catch him watching you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

But you don’t let it go beyond that.

Because you have a boyfriend—a fact you hadn’t told Nico about. Yet.

In his mind, everything had been falling into place. Nico feels like, for the first time, the stars have finally aligned.

For years, it was always something—bad timing, distance, relationships that never left space for anything more. But now, with you here in a part of his world that feels permanent, he can’t help but think that maybe this is it. Maybe this is the chance he’s been waiting for.

But then, in the middle of an easy conversation, you mention something—someone—and the ground shifts beneath him.

A boyfriend.

You don’t say it like a confession, don’t drop it like a bomb. It’s casual, slipped into conversation like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t change everything.

But it does.

Because all this time, Nico thought the universe was finally on his side. Turns out, it was just playing another cruel trick on him.

After hearing you mention your boyfriend, Nico takes a moment, his face betraying nothing but the quiet storm raging inside. He forces a small, tight smile, but there’s a flicker of something else—disappointment, maybe even a little hurt—behind his eyes.

“You have a boyfriend,” he repeats softly, like he’s trying to process the words in a way that makes sense.

You nod, watching his reaction closely, but you can’t read him. “Yeah, we've been together for a while now.”

Nico looks away briefly, running a hand through his hair, then meets your gaze again. “I… didn’t know.” He lets out a small, almost inaudible laugh, shaking his head. “I guess I should’ve figured it out. I don’t know why I thought…” He trails off, eyes downcast for a second, as if weighing his words carefully.

It’s clear he’s trying to mask whatever else is there, but you can still feel the weight of what he’s not saying. He might not want to admit it, but the truth is, hearing you’re with someone else stings in a way he didn’t expect.

There’s a stretch of silence, thick with something unsaid. Finally, Nico clears his throat. “Is he… good to you?”

You pause for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. He is.”

It’s not a lie. Not really. Your relationship isn’t bad—it’s just… not great, either.

But Nico doesn’t push. He just hums in acknowledgment, his jaw tight, and you pretend not to notice the way his entire demeanor shifts after that.

————

From then on, things are a little different.

Nico is still friendly, still professional, but the lingering tension that had started to build between you evaporates. He keeps a little more distance, doesn’t hold your gaze as long, doesn’t joke with you the way he used to.

And you tell yourself that’s a good thing.

And because, deep down, you know that if Nico really wanted to, he could ruin every single feeling you’ve been trying to suppress.

————

A few months after that conversation, things only get worse. The constant fighting with your boyfriend has taken its toll, and you’re at a breaking point, feeling like you need to confide in someone before you completely lose it.

It happens late one evening after a long road trip. The team had just gotten back, exhausted but relieved to be home. Most of the guys had gone their separate ways—some heading straight to their beds, others to grab a late-night meal—but you and Nico somehow ended up in the training room.

He had come in for a quick post-trip stretch, and you had stayed behind to finish organizing some rehab plans. It was quiet, the hum of the therapy machines the only background noise, and for the first time in a while, it felt like there was space to talk.

You didn’t even mean to say it.

But as you stood there, watching him work through a shoulder stretch, the words just… slipped out.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Nico looked up, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the clipboard in your hands. “My relationship…,” you say, your voice soft but firm, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “It’s not what it used to be, and I don’t even know how it got here. We’ve been drifting, and I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t anymore.”

Nico’s expression softens, and for a brief moment, you see the hesitation in his eyes, as though he’s unsure whether he should say anything at all. But after a beat, he steps closer, his voice gentle.

“You deserve someone who makes you feel good, who makes you feel happy,” he says, his words full of sincerity. “I don’t want you to stay in something that’s not right for you.”

You nod, fighting the urge to explain more, to justify yourself. “I don’t know what’s been happening. It’s just… been falling apart, and I don’t know what to do about it.” You look at him, your voice cracking a little. “It’s been hard to admit, even to myself.”

Nico falls silent for a moment, letting your words sink in. He wants to reach out, to comfort you, but hesitates, unsure if it’s his place. Instead, he meets your gaze with quiet understanding, his expression softer than it has been in a long time.

Nico stays quiet for a moment, taking in what you’ve said. He wants to reach out, to comfort you, but he doesn’t want to overstep. Instead, he looks at you with that quiet understanding, his expression softer than it’s been in a while. “Since when?”

You sighed, setting the clipboard down. “I don’t know. A while, I guess. It’s just been feeling… off. Rocky.” You let out a humorless laugh. “Guess it happens.”

Nico was quiet for a moment, studying you. And even though he didn’t say it, you could feel the way he was carefully measuring his reaction. Because deep down, you knew he wanted to hear this. You knew that part of him still hoped. But more than anything, you knew Nico—and he was never the kind of person who would want to see you unhappy.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Are you?”

His lips quirked slightly, but there was no real amusement in his expression. “I mean, yeah. I don’t want you feeling like that.”

The way he said it—so simple, so genuine—made your chest ache.

You nodded, glancing down. “Yeah. Me neither.”

A heavy silence hung between you, filled with words neither of you were brave enough to say.

After a moment, Nico reached for his water bottle, his voice softer this time. “Do you think it’s fixable?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

And for the first time since this conversation started, you met his eyes again.

The moment stretched, charged and unspoken, before Nico finally gave a small nod.

“Well,” he said quietly, “for what it’s worth… I just want you to be happy.”

The sincerity in his voice almost broke you.

And maybe—just maybe—that was the moment you realized where your heart had been all along.

————

The tension in the Devils’ locker room is so thick you could probably cut it with a skate blade. Someone is shouting at someone else, their voices cutting through the room, but you keep your head down, focused on your work. You don’t feel like yourself anymore—you just go through the motions. Your mind is somewhere else. Or, more accurately, on someone else. Your boyfriend—if you can even still call him that—has been distant, arguments bubbling up over the smallest things, and at this point, you’re starting to wonder if you’re just holding onto something that’s already broken.

And Nico knows.

He hasn’t said anything outright, but you can feel it in the way he watches you. The way his eyes linger a little too long when he thinks you don’t notice. The way his jaw clenches whenever he overhears you on the phone, your voice tight with frustration. The way he always asks if you’re okay—like he already knows the answer but wants you to say it out loud.

Today, it’s no different.

You’re finishing up with one of the guys when Nico walks in, fresh from the ice, his hair damp and his jersey clinging slightly to his frame. He offers a polite nod to the other player but doesn’t take his eyes off you as he makes his way over.

“Everything okay?” he asks, leaning against the treatment table as the other player exits.

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face before looking up at him. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He hums, not buying it. He never does. “Tired from work, or tired from… other things?”

You give him a pointed look. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

His jaw tightens slightly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table. “Did something happen?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “Just the same old fight. Different day.”

Nico is quiet for a moment, his gaze searching yours like he’s debating whether to say what’s really on his mind. Finally, he speaks—carefully, like he’s choosing his words with precision.

“You deserve to be happy,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “Really happy.”

Your breath catches, because there’s something in the way he says it—something unspoken but so incredibly obvious.

Your stomach twists, and not in a bad way. Because you both know what he’s really saying. You both know what’s been lingering between you for months now. And you both know he’s too good to ever cross a line.

But damn, do you wish the line didn’t exist.

“Nico—”

“I know,” he cuts in, shaking his head as if he already knows what you’re going to say. “I know. It’s not my place.” He pushes off the table, raking a hand through his hair. “I just— I hate seeing you like this.”

You swallow hard, your fingers curling into your palms. “I know.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. It’s just you, standing there, your heart pounding, his eyes dark with something he won’t act on.

Not yet.

————

The breakup was inevitable. You knew it, your ex knew it. It wasn’t dramatic. No big fights, no yelling for once—just a quiet conversation that ended with both of you knowing it was over. It was overdue, really. And for the first time in a long time, you felt free.

You didn’t tell anyone right away, though. Not because you were hiding it, but because you needed time to process it on your own. And maybe, deep down, you knew there was one person whose reaction mattered more than anyone else’s.

Nico.

Which is why, when you end up out with the guys weeks later at , he’s still acting the same way he always does—watching you from across the bar with that same careful restraint, never letting himself get too close.

You’ve had enough of it.

That’s how you end up outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you lean against the brick wall, your heart pounding. You’re not second-guessing this. Not tonight.

And Nico follows. Of course he does.

The door swings shut behind him, muffling the music, and he stops just a few feet away. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, his expression unreadable.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, his voice low, cautious.

You don’t answer. Instead, you take a step forward, closing the space between you, and before he can say anything else—before he can stop you—you kiss him.

He freezes.

For a second, he doesn’t move at all, like his brain is still catching up to what’s happening. You’re kissing him—something he’s only ever imagined in his dreams, but now, it’s actually happening. The warmth of your lips, the closeness he’s always wanted, is real. Every part of him is aware that this moment, this thing he thought would never come, is finally here.

But then, just as you deepen the kiss, he pulls back, “What—,” he shakes his head, trying to process. “What are you doing?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Kissing you?”

His jaw clenches, and for the first time, you see something close to frustration in his expression. “You—” He exhales sharply.

“You have a boyfriend,” Nico says, his voice tight, like it physically pains him to say the words.

You blink up at him, your stomach twists, a mix of nerves and something dangerously close to excitement. Because you’re about to say something that changes everything.

“Nico,” you say softly, reaching for his hands where they’re still gripping your arms. “I don’t.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“We broke up.” You give his hands a small squeeze. “Few weeks ago.”

He stares at you, processing, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. His grip on you loosens, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly over your skin.

“You…,” he trails off, his expression still bewildered. “You didn’t tell me.”

You swallow, searching his face. “I wanted to. I just—needed time. And I wasn’t sure if…” You hesitate, heart pounding. “If it would change anything.”

Nico exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his whole body still tense. “Are you serious?” His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. “It changes everything,” he pauses, “And you know it.”

Something inside you flips, hope bubbling to the surface. “Yeah?”

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus, I’ve been losing my mind watching you, thinking I just had to live with it—” He cuts himself off, his hands coming back to your waist. “And now you’re telling me…”

“That I want you,” you finish for him.

His breath hitches, his fingers tightening on your hips.

“You don’t have to hold back anymore, Nico,” you whisper.

For a second, he still looks like he can’t believe it, like he’s waiting for someone to tell him this isn’t real.

But then, finally, he exhales, his shoulders relaxing, and his lips crash onto yours.

And this time, he doesn’t pull away.

Nico’s kiss is urgent, almost desperate, like he’s been holding back for too long. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, his body pressed against yours as if he can’t get close enough. You respond just as eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him even nearer, deepening the kiss.

For a moment, it’s like the world falls away—like it’s just the two of you standing there in the cool night air, the buzz of the club a distant hum in the background. His lips move with a kind of practiced hunger, but there’s a gentleness beneath it, as if he’s waiting for your signal, checking to make sure you’re still with him.

When you pull back, gasping for air, your chest rises and falls rapidly, and Nico’s forehead drops to yours, his breath uneven. “God,” he mutters, his hands still resting on your waist. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You chuckle, a soft sound, still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through you. “It’s real,” you whisper. “I’m right here.”

He takes a slow, deep breath, his hands gently cupping your face now, as if to make sure you’re not going anywhere. His eyes are dark, intense, but there’s a warmth in them now—something that feels different. Something that feels… right.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because this… this is more than just a kiss for me.”

You smile, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I’m sure.”

Nico’s expression softens, his smile slow and tender. He leans in again, pressing a light kiss to your lips, before pulling back just enough to look you in the eye.

“I’m not going to screw this up,” he says, determination in his voice. “I won’t.”

You rest your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. “You won’t,” you promise him. “I know you won’t.”

His eyes search yours, cautious but certain, like he’s trying to memorize this moment, just in case.

There were so many chances, so many times you could have fallen into this. Every moment before this was a chance left untouched.

Until now.

[hunieday]

9th Anniversary story - Chapter 5 : Thank you for the gift!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - (to be continued)

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Reporter: The final test is the vaulting box!

Reporter: This test requires coordination, explosive strength, flexibility, stamina, timing, and speed...

Reporter: You need a well-balanced sense of gymnastics!

Reporter: There are a total of 18 levels in the vaulting box. The highest level is over two meters tall.

Nikaido Yamato: Over two meters!? No way, that’s impossible. You need CGI or something to make it look doable.

Momo: You never know, it might be! Everyone, do you best and be careful not to get hurt!

Osaka Sougo: That’s right!

Reporter: Now, let’s start from level 8!

Reporter: Ready, start!

Inumaru Touma: …Ahh! My right foot got caught…!

Yaotome Gaku: Nice fight, Inumaru!

Inumaru Touma: Thanks! So there are only three people left now.

Natsume Minami: You can tell who’s gonna end up at the top when doing vaulting boxes since they’re going at it by level.

Isumi Haruka: Go for it, Tora! Show them what a drama stuntman can do!

Mido Torao: Yeah!

Isumi Haruka: He actually responded.

Inumaru Touma: I bet he’s so nervous he didn’t even hear you.

Natsume Minami: If you make it, you better treat us!

Mido Torao: Got it!

Isumi Haruka: He actually agreed.

Inumaru Touma: Nice.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Do your best Nagicchi! Don’t lose!

Rokuya Nagi: Fufufu… Yes! I’ll show them what I’m made of!

Nanase Riku: Nagi, you’re really good at vaulting! Keep going…!

Izumi Iori: Is it really okay for a prince to be jumping over a two meters box?

Izumi Mitsuki: Get their ass, Nagi!

Nikaido Yamato: Don’t lose to Mido and Tsunashi-san!

Kujo Tenn: Ryuu, you got this! I know you can do it!

Yaotome Gaku: Do your best! And don’t get hurt!

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: I will! Root for me!

Momo: Since it’s easy to see who’s left, they’re turning this into a cheering match! I wish I survived this long to be cheered on too!!

Yuki: I dropped out at level 13, so I’ve been cheering for you this whole time.

Nikaido Yamato: What level are they at now?

Izumi Mitsuki: They just cleared level 17, and now they’re challenging level 18! Do your best, you three…!

Mido Torao: Yes!

Rokuya Nagi: YES!

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: I’m going for it!

Reporter: Now, take your positions! Ready, start!

Mido Torao: …! I did it!

Reporter: 1st place! Mido Torao-san! Cleared level 18!

Isumi Haruka: He did it!

Inumaru Touma: Amazing!

Natsume Minami: Congratulations!

Reporter: Tied for 2nd place! Rokuya Nagi-san and Tsunashi Ryuunosuke-san!

Rokuya Nagi: OH… How unfortunate.

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Ahh, that was so close. Torao-kun really has control over his body thanks to his stunt work.

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: But we put up a good fight, right Nagi-kun?

Rokuya Nagi: We did. Congratulations, Mido-shi.

Mido Torao: Thanks!

Reporter: Mido-san, what’s your secret to winning the vaulting box event!?

Mido Torao: Ummm… thanks to my members’ support.

Natsume Minami, Isumi Haruka & Inumaru Touma: Yaaaay!

Natsume Minami: Not that he could hear us, though.

Reporter: With that, the physical ability test is complete! We will now divide you into two teams based on your results.

Reporter: While we finalize distributing the teams, please enjoy some refreshments!

Nanase Riku: Red and White teams, huh? I wonder how we’ll be divided!

Inumaru Touma: We’re usually in separate groups, so it would be awesome if we could be in the same team, Riku.

Nanase Riku: Yes!

Yuki: I’m always with Momo, so I hope we’re in the same team again.

Momo: I don’t care either way! Ahh, finally, I got my hands on my favorite person’s physical fitness data… I’m over the moon…

Yuki: Thanks. All that running around was worth it if you’re happy.

Momo: These numbers are so adorable. I’ll use them as my phone passcode…

Yaotome Gaku: Since we’re already here, I actually hope I’m on a different team from Ryuu. I wanna go all out against him.

Kujo Tenn: I get that. I wanna be completely overwhelmed by his power.

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: You two are still at it huh? I wish you’d say you wanted to be on the same team as me…

Kujo Tenn: This is a rare opportunity…

Yaotome Gaku: It sure is.

Isumi Haruka: Different teams, huh…

Natsume Minami: I don’t mind either way, but…

Mido Torao: I guess we’ll be on separate teams…

Reporter: Thank you for waiting! The teams have been decided!

Nikaido Yamato: Whoa, that was fast.

Izumi Mitsuki: This is exciting!

Reporter: I’m gonna announce them now! Please respond when I call your name!

Reporter: Red Team!

Reporter: Izumi Iori-san!

Izumi Iori: Yes.

Reporter: Osaka Sougo-san!

Ousaka Sougo: Yes.

Reporter: Nanase Riku-san!

Nanase Riku: Yes!

Reporter: Kujo Tenn-san!

Kujo Ten: Yes.

Reporter: Tsunashi Ryuunosuke-san!

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Yes!

Reporter: Momo-san!

Momo: Heeere~!

Reporter: Isumi Haruka-san!

Haruka Isumi: Y-yes!

Reporter: Inumaru Touma-san!

Inumaru Touma: Yes!

Reporter: That concludes the 8 members of the Red Team!

Reporter: Next, I will call out the White Team members!

Reporter: Nikaido Yamato-san!

Nikaido Yamato: Ah, yes.

Reporter: Izumi Mitsuki-san!

Izumi Mitsuki: Yes!

Reporter: Yotsuba Tamaki-san!

Yotsuba Tamaki: ‘Sup!

Reporter: Rokuya Nagi-san!

Rokuya Nagi: YES!

Reporter: Yaotome Gaku-san!

Yaotome Gaku: Yeah!

Reporter: Yuki-san!

Yuki: Yes!

Reporter: Natsume Minami-san!

Natsume Minami: Yes.

Reporter: Mido Torao-san!

Mido Torao: Yes.

Reporter: That concludes the 8 members of the White Team!

Inumaru Touma: So that’s how they split us up!

Natsume Minami: ŹOOḼ ended up being divided into the vocal group and performance group.

Nanase Riku: Te… Kujo-san and Touma-san are with me! So are Sougo-san, Tsunashi-san, Momo-san and Haruka-kun!

Izumi Iori: This is gonna be the Nanase-san pampering group, isn’t it…

Nanase Riku: Iori, we’re on the same team too! Let’s do our best!

Izumi Iori: Well, yes.

Izumi Mitsuki: That makes us rivals, Iori!

Izumi Iori: I… suppose so.

Izumi Mitsuki: Come at me with all you’ve got!

Izumi Iori: Of course.

Reporter: You’ll be competing as the Red and White teams during the actual event!

Reporter: You might feel a bit odd since you'll be teaming up with members outside your usual groups.

Reporter: So, to help you build teamwork, we’ve prepared these envelopes!

Reporter: Red Team, this envelope is for you!

Momo: What’s this?

Reporter: White Team, here’s your envelope!

Yaotome Gaku: Thank you. Can we open it now?

Reporter: Go ahead, yeah!

Nanase Riku: What’s inside?

Momo: Let’s see… a gift card for yakiniku! (Grilled meat)

Inumaru Touma: Yakiniku! Awesome!!

Yaotome Gaku: We got a gift card for sukiyaki. (Hot pot)

Yotsuba Tamaki: Sukiyaki!

Nikaido Yamato: Nice, awesome! Let’s eat sukiyaki and improve our teamwork!

Reporter: You all must be hungry after all these physical tests, so go enjoy some delicious food as you improve your bond!

Haruka Isumi: Yay! Yakiniku! Izumi, let’s see who can eat more!

Izumi Iori: You’re challenging the wrong person.

Haruka Isumi: I know, but Yotsuba’s not with us so I have to challenge you instead!

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: I’ll take you on. I’m confident I can win.

Haruka Isumi: Oh shit… you seem really strong…

Momo: Momo-chan loves meat too! so I’m confident!

Inumaru Touma: Me too! Sougo, you don’t eat much, so don’t push yourself.

Osaka Sougo: Thank you, you’re very kind.

Kujo Tenn: The Red team fosters a lot of kind-hearted people.

Izumi Iori: Please exclude me from that. I’m supposed to be the cool one.

Nanase Riku: But Iori’s kind too! Everyone’s so nice~! I’m really looking forward to the yakiniku!

Yuki: Sukiyaki, huh… I’m not really a fan…

Nikaido Yamato: I figured. I’ll take the meat. I’ll swish some greens in the broth for you.

Natsume Minami: Rokuya-san, do you like sukiyaki?

Rokuya Nagi: I love it! Sukiyaki is the OG Japanese dish!

Rokuya Nagi: But the raw egg is a bit… I can’t help but wonder. Were there no other options…?

Natsume Minami: Do you want a substitute for raw egg? How about custard cream or something?

Mido Torao: That sounds absolutely disgusting… Also, how exactly does eating sukiyaki build teamwork?

Yotsuba Tamaki: You know. There’s always someone in charge of the pot.

Izumi Mitsuki: Ah, I see. I’m usually the one in charge so maybe I should leave it to someone else this time.

Izumi Mitsuki: You gotta communicate, right?

Mido Torao: I’d rather have someone who knows what he’s doing take over…

Nikaido Yamato: If Mitsu doesn’t do it, who will?

Yaotome Gaku: If you’ll allow me to take the lead, I’ll take it.

Nikaido Yamato: "Take the lead”? Do you really need to make sukiyaki sound so cool?

Yaotome Gaku: You thought that was cool?

Yuki: I’ll take charge of the pot then. I won’t be eating the meat, so I’ll be free.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Then I’ll take charge of the eating!

Natsume Minami: I’d also like to take charge of the eating.

Mido Torao: Same here, for the most part…

Rokuya Nagi: Of course, I would like everything around me to be taken care of as well.

Nikaido Yamato: I see. The white team is severely deficient in reliable people.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Well yeah, Rikkun took most of them.

Rokuya Nagi: Riku’s luck really shines in moments like these.

Takanashi Tsumugi: And so, they built their teamwork through yakiniku and sukiyaki…

Momo: Riku, the meat’s ready.

Nanase Riku: Yaaaay!

Tsunashi Ryuunosuke: Riku-kun, this one looks tasty too.

Nanase Riku: Awesome!

Inumaru Touma: Riku, want me to peel your shrimp for you?

Kujo Tenn: Here you go, the corn is grilled just right.

Osaka Sougo: Riku-kun, do you want a new drink? I got apple juice.

Haruka Isumi: Nanase-san, do you wanna try a little kinako ice cream?

Izumi Iori: You’re all spoiling him too much!!

Yaotome Gaku: Alright. I’ll take the lead.

Yuki: I’ll manage the pot.

Izumi Mitsuki: I should just step back and just observe.

Yotsuba Tamaki: I’m taking the extra meat!

Nikaido Yamato: Onii-san’s eating too!

Natsume Minami: I will take some too.

Rokuya Nagi: I don’t need a large portion, but I’d like a beautifully marbled cut with a good balance of meat and fat.

Mido Torao: Got any Matsuzaka or Tajima beef? (1)

Takanashi Tsumugi: And so, the day of the Idol Sports Festival arrived.

To be continued…

Matsuzaka beef & Tajima beef are two expensive, high-end cuts of wagyu beef.