#and now i'm here. so this is fresh off the press baby!!!!

[tunastime]

UM UM UM “staying up until midnight to talk” with SEN or DBHC ethubs or docsuma

Or “pull me closer,” with dbhc docsuma :floshed:

Okay skitters away

staying up until midnight to talk (919 words) (x) (:3c)

Etho’s hands follow a practiced rhythm. He isn’t sure how they wouldn’t, with every wire and mechanism and gear in his body perfectly calibrated to move with precision and within expectation. He certainly fails, and jerks, and stutters, and falls, but base programming, movements that fell perfectly into subroutines he couldn’t even begin to trace, even if Xisuma showed him the exact steps? Of course they were perfect. And of course he never faltered.

The sand beneath him offers a much needed cushioning from the hard, winter dirt, despite the fact that the sun provides little warmth to the air around them in the snow fort. The sky is so blue it makes his eyes strain to look at—and maybe it would hurt, if he knew how it was supposed to feel.

Instead, Etho watches patches of sky blue in the silver-warped reflection of his sword, faint flickers of enchantment pulsing out from the hilt where the hastily carved runes sit. He runs the sharpening stone against the blade’s flat edge, careful not to nick the silicon of his fingers as he scrapes it across, again, and again. Practiced, careful, calculated rhythm. So much so that he doesn’t even register the sounds of shuffling a few paces away until Bdubs’ voice cuts through the silence.

“Etho,” he says, voice all rough around the edges like he were hungry for something more than just company. Etho keeps sharpening, just for a moment, before he chances a glance over.

Bdubs leans at the wooden fence, leaning his weight into the flimsily-set posts. He grins like nothing in the world could bother him. The characteristic dark brown of his eyes flickers with red, with that same hunger. Etho hates it. Which is odd. Because he really doesn’t feel strongly about much of anything, and disgust is an emotion very foreign to him, and he’s beginning to think the slight grinding in his chest is a problem Xisuma might need to diagnose when he gets back. It feels wrong. Because he knows he likes Bdubs just fine. He trusts him just enough. But that look.

Bdubs is still watching him, eyeing the sword in his hand with a gaze he can’t place, let alone read. Better give him an answer.

“Bdubs,” he says calmly, tilting his head to the side.

“You thought anymore about my offer?”

Etho makes a sound like a hum, mimicking the sound of turning the idea over in his head. He stands, setting his whetstone next to the cold embers of last night’s fire. The pot and cups still rest in the dirt, as cold as the rest of their surroundings. The sword stays in his hand.

(In the back of his mind, a memory surfaces. In it, Etho lies in the night-damp grass in clothes that still smell a bit like gunpowder, but not enough to notice unless you got real close. Bdubs is somewhere to his immediate left, still speaking, haloed in the glow of lanterns and lights of a shop. One of them at least. Within the clarity of memory, Etho can pinpoint that it’s Tango’s shop. Bdubs doesn’t live far from here. He isn’t sure when waiting for Tango to restock candles turned into tell Etho all about the extra additions to your base and your journey to find all the perfect horses for the Horse Course that you both just wrapped up, or into tell Bdubs all about how empty the mountain is, and how interesting this new game sounds, and how you hope you both find somewhere cool to base. Because you’ve already told him that you’re teaming up. But it does, and in this same space, the sky is full of bright white stars and a sliver of a moon that's starting to peek into the sky. Bdubs yawns.)

“The one from last night?” Etho asks, coming to with the sword heavy in his hand. He pushes the point into the soft sand until it hits hard earth and starts to give.

“You don’t gotta keep this fence, Etho…” Bdubs sighs, leaning his head into his palm. Etho folds his arms across his chest, splays one hand as he shrugs.

“Seems like the best way to settle this, ‘Dubs.”

“You could join me. Could always still join me,” Bdubs tries. ���Just a quick one-two stab! Easy!”

“I can’t do that,” Etho says, shaking his head. “You know that.”

Bdubs sighs again, dramatic, deflating over the fence as Etho’s rejection stands firm. The thirium in his chest feels like it’s been flash frozen and has only started to dethaw, cold in his hands and feet, up his shins and to his elbows. He rolls his shoulders in, cupping each hand around each opposite elbow. There’s a little warmth to be found in the action with no fans kicking on to compensate.

“Well,” Bdubs says, drumming on the wooden beam between the two fence posts. “If you ever change your mind.”

He watches Etho for a moment, that familiar look coming to his eyes, as if it were trying to eclipse the haze of red Bdubs looks at him through, as if it were trying to expand his tunnel vision by just a fraction of an inch. Just as Etho notices, it’s snuffed, and the easy, careful look is replaced by an indifference Etho doesn’t think he enjoys. He still isn’t sure how much he knows for certain. He shrugs, barely a movement at all. Better say something.

“I won’t,” he says.

Bdubs huffs and turns away.

[bonniepop]

another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.

the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.

the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sob—not here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.

as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.

you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.

the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.

you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldn’t. couldn’t listen to him tell you that he needed more from you—more support, more time, more patience.

you’ve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. you’ve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. you’ve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.

i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. you’re never home. i know you’re busy at work and you’re doing what you love but please, ‘samu. please. 

love me, too.

your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says he’s tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.

you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.

“babe?” you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. “babe, what’s wrong?” his voice is calm against your turmoil. “are you having a panic attack?”

“’samu, i’m—” you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water. 

“drink, please,” he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water he’d given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.

he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.

when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"

“i love you so much, osamu,” you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch. 

“i love you, too,” he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.

not anymore.

you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.

“i love you so much,” you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. “but i—” you sob, “but, osamu, i can’t anymore.”

osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“i love you so much,” you confess. “i would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. i’ve tried my best, but osamu, i’m so tired,” you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. “i’m so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, and—and—and i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.”

you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. “i’m so sorry i can’t give you more, osamu.”

you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.

the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.

when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. “what’s next?”

your smile is sad and wet with tears. “i think you know.” you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. “let’s… let’s do this in the morning, okay?”

he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesn’t take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries. 

you press your face against his hair and cry with him.

—

the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. it’s early, but you can’t keep sleeping. there’s a lot to pack.

your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that you’re alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so it’ll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.

you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad back—osamu didn’t leave—and your fingers turn cold.

the door slides shut behind you and he turns. “good mornin’,” he says quietly, shutting off the stove.

“good morning,” you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. “osamu. what is—what.”

he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other plates—nearly every single plate you own, you note—and your dining table is bursting with food. “cooked breakfast.”

“for how many people?” you ask, incredulous. “i tried t'remember everythin’ you liked,” he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used. 

when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. “when you leave,” he says, “i’m going to try again.”

you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. “but i know i’ve—i know i fucked up. i love you, and i never should’ve hurt you.” he inhales through his nose. “but i did, and i can’t change that.

“but i’m not giving up on you. not on us. you—” he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. “i’ll… if i have to start all over again, i’ll do it,” he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “i’ll win you back.”

“osamu,” you whisper, and his face crumples again.

“i love you too much to let you go,” he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. “and i know that makes me a jerk. but i’m… i love you, so much—so fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.”

he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. “leave me if you have to,” he says brokenly.

“if you need space, i’ll understand. but please,” he begs. “please don’t give up on me.” 

he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.

the horror that overtakes you is beyond words. 

you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he won’t do this to himself, you won’t let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.

you won't let him do this.

later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamu’s middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. “please, just… give me another chance.”

you look up at him, and your eyes meet.

—

“hey!” atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. “it’s so good t’see you!“

“hi, ‘tsumu,” you greet, returning the hug. 

he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. “know what you want?”

you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. “how are you? how’s training?”

“’m good! training’s good. teammates are pretty good, too.”

"yeah? like who?"

atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."

you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. “fine. ask me.”

atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, “how are you two? it’s been over a month now, right?”

“oi.” you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. “stop bothering them, ‘tsumu.”

atsumu glares at his twin. “i’m the one who invited ‘em to lunch!”

osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brother’s wandering hands with it before they get to close. “these are not for you.”

“but that’s a lot!" atsumu whines. "can’t i have any?”

“no,” osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.

"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.

osamu ignores him. “let me know what you think.”

“okay,” you say with a smile. 

“and let me know if you need to take out anything,” he continues, “i’ll wrap it up for you.” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. “enjoy.”

“thank you, ‘samu,” you tell him before he turns to leave. 

he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.

atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. “so i take it things are going well?”

“yeah,” you admit, picking up an onigiri. “going really well, actually.”

“you’ve been…” atsumu searches for the word, “is it still called ‘dating’? you broke up. but… entertaining each other…?”

“don’t hurt yourself,” you joke. “but yeah. let’s call it dating. and it’s going well, thanks for asking.” you take a bite of the onigiri.

“does he still have a chance?” atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, who’s smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friend’s apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.

you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friend’s door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if you’re eating or if you need any food.

you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.

but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.

in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his ‘see you later’s, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time he’s putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.

it's like everything is new again.

his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.

it's not new, you think. it's better.

you swallow your food. it's delicious.

“yeah,” you say softly, “he does.”

[gf2bellamy]

hello!!! i love your spencer reid fics!!! i'm sorry if you've written something like this before or don't want to lololol pls disregard if so! I would highly appreciate if you wrote an argument fic with spencer, and it just escalates out of nowhere and he yells at reader (😞) and he chooses to sleep on the couch for the night, but he hears her having a nightmare from the bedroom and goes to comfort her ? n she feels very guilty and sad over bothering him again after he was mad and hes like no my baby darling i love u 4ever heart eyes emoji, sorry for my ramble i just love angst to fluff hurt comfort and i want to be babied by spencer sigh,,, love your stuff again and have a great day !

anger — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader having a nigthmare ( no explicit detail of what it is ) , reader and spencer having a fight , emotions run high a/n: hii !! i hope you like this <3 i loved writing this !!

Spencer Reid never yelled.

You knew this with the same certainty as you knew the way he mumbled equations in his sleep or how his hands always hesitated for half a second before touching you , simply because he still got nervous around you. His voice was a living thing, shifting effortlessly between lecture-hall projection and late-night murmurs against your skin, but it always remained controlled.

Until tonight.

It wasn’t shouting—not really. But the way his words turned razor-sharp at the edges, the way his voice cracked over a single syllable —it might as well have been a yell.

His hand raked through his hair, leaving it standing in chaotic tufts. In another moment, you might have smiled at how boyish it made him look. But now, with his shoulders rigid and his breaths coming too fast, all you could think was:

I did that.

The argument had started over something simple—his recklessness in the field, the way he threw himself into danger without hesitation. But then, as arguments often did, it spiraled. Old wounds were opened, and before either of you could stop it, the conversation had turned into something far uglier. 

Now, standing in the suffocating silence of your apartment, you had nothing left to say.

So you turned away, retreating to the bathroom, the click of the door behind you sounding far too final. You leaned against it, your breath shuddering as you pressed your palms against the cool wood. A single tear slipped free before you could stop it, and you swiped it away angrily, as if your own emotions were betraying you. 

Your reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror caught you off guard - eyes glassy and red-rimmed.

On the other side of the door, Spencer stood frozen for a long moment before exhaling sharply. He dragged his hands down his face, guilt already gnawing at him. Instead of following you, he sank onto the couch dropping his head into his hands. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, caught between regret and exhaustion, but eventually, he moved. With stiff motions, he grabbed the throw blanket draped over the armrest—the one you always curled under during movie nights—and tugged it over himself before lying down.

When you finally emerged, the apartment was quiet. Your steps were slow as you made your way toward the bedroom, but you stopped when you passed the living room. 

There he was. Spencer, stretched out on the couch. Your chest tightened at the sight, a fresh wave of hurt crashing over you.

He’d rather sleep here, cramped and restless, than share a bed with you. 

For a second, you considered going to him. You could reach out, brush your fingers through his hair, murmur an apology—anything to bridge this gap. But the stubborn ache in your heart held you back. 

So you turned away, slipping into the bedroom alone. The bed felt too big, too cold without him, and as you curled into your usual spot, you stared at the empty space beside you.

Spencer was tossing and turning. 

A car passed outside, headlights sweeping across the wall. For a fleeting moment, the light caught on the framed photo on the end table—your smiling faces at JJ's wedding, his arm slung carelessly around your shoulders.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his stinging eyes. The statistics on successful conflict resolution ran through his mind on a loop (87% of couples reconcile within 48 hours, 63% report stronger bonds post-reconciliation) but the numbers turned to ash before they could comfort him.

He should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to sleep without you.

The silence shattered with a whimper.

The sheets rustled violently down the hall, followed by a choked gasp that sent ice flooding his veins. Before his mind could catch up, he was moving—the blanket pooling at his feet, as he moved toward the bedroom.

The sight before him made his stomach twist. 

You were asleep, but barely. Your body twitched under the covers, your fingers clutching at the sheets. A pained expression flickered across your face, your breath coming in uneven gasps. 

A nightmare. 

Spencer crossed the room in two strides. He sat carefully on the edge of the mattress, his hand hovering over your shoulder before he finally let it rest there, his touch feather-light. 

"Hey—" His voice cracked as he reached for you, hands hovering—too afraid to startle, too desperate not to touch. Your skin was fever-hot under his fingertips when he finally brushed them along your arm.

You didn’t wake. 

Your breathing hitched, a quiet sound of distress escaping your lips, and something in Spencer’s chest cracked open. He squeezed your shoulder gently, his other hand brushing the hair back from your forehead. 

Then, you shot upright with a gasp, your eyes flying open, heart hammering against your ribs. For a disoriented second, the room spun—until your gaze landed on Spencer.

The first tear slipped down your cheek.

Then his arms were around you, crushing you against him so tightly you could feel his heartbeat stuttering against your sternum. His lips moved against your hair, whispering words too fractured to make sense—"I'm here, you're safe, I've got you"— as you clutched at his back.

Then, barely audible, you whispered, “I’m sorry for earlier.” 

Spencer stilled. 

Of all the things he expected you to say, that wasn’t it. Not when your breaths were still uneven, not when he could feel the faint tremor in your hands. Guilt twisted sharply in his chest. 

You swallowed hard, your voice fraying at the edges. “I really didn’t mean to be overbearing—” 

“Hey, stop.” His hand cradled the back of your head, his thumb brushing the nape of your neck.

You were sorry? After he’d been the one to raise his voice, after he’d let his frustration push him to sleep on the couch like some petulant child? After you’d been the one to wake up trembling from a nightmare, and his pride had kept him from coming to you sooner?  

He shifted, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. Your eyes were glassy in the faint moonlight, your lower lip caught between your teeth like you were fighting to keep it from trembling. 

God, he’d been an idiot. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. When your gaze flicked up to his, he held it, his thumbs sweeping over your cheeks. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who—” His voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far. I shouldn’t have acted like that.” 

You shook your head slightly, but he pressed on, his forehead dipping to rest against yours. 

“I hate fighting with you,” he admitted, the words raw. “And I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me tonight.” 

A shaky breath escaped you, your hands lifting to grip his wrists. 

“I just worry,” you whispered. 

Spencer’s chest tightened. Of course you did. After everything he’d seen in the field, after every close call, how could you not? 

Spencer's thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone as he whispered, "I know. And I'll be more careful. I promise."

The words settled between you like a vow.

You searched his eyes - those warm, hazel eyes that usually sparkled with facts and theories, now darkened with remorse. Your fingers twisted slightly in the fabric of his worn sweatshirt as you asked, so softly it nearly broke him, "Will you sleep here with me?" 

Spencer's breath caught. The question, so small and tentative, landed like a physical blow. That you even had to ask - that his childish anger had made you doubt whether he'd stay - sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing through him. 

You were asking permission for something that should have been unquestionable. That his anger had carved this hesitation into you, made you doubt your place in his arms.

"Yeah," he breathed, his voice cracking as he gathered you closer. His lips pressed against your forehead, lingering there as if he could imprint the truth through touch alone. "You never have to ask. I'm not going anywhere." 

The bed dipped as he slid beneath the covers. His arms encircled you, pulling your back flush against his chest. His knees tucked behind yours, his heartbeat steady against your shoulder blades, his nose buried in your hair. 

The warm press of his palms against your stomach, fingers splaying possessively calmed you down. The steady thrum of his heartbeat against your spine too.

His nose brushed the nape of your neck.The familiar scent of your shampoo mixed with the salt of dried tears sent another wave of guilt crashing through him. He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into the darkness, the words muffled against your skin. "For the couch. For making you feel like I wouldn't want this." His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently. "There's nowhere I'd rather be." 

You turned in his embrace, your nose brushing against his.

Spencer's hand came up to cradle your jaw, his touch feather-light. "Next time I'm being an idiot," he whispered, "just come get me, okay? Even if I'm mad. Even if I'm stubborn." A small, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips. "Especially then." 

His nose brushed yours again.

"Drag me back. Yell at me. Throw a book at my head if you have to." A quiet laugh shook his frame, as you smiled at the sound.

You didn't trust your voice not to break so you nodded, pressing closer. Spencer's fingers began a soothing pattern along your spine.

As sleep finally claimed you both, Spencer pressed one last kiss to your temple, his arms tightening slightly around you.

[connorsui]

Sylus x wife! Reader || Imagine

"A sticker crown!"

The house was quiet, a warmth settling into every corner as you opened the front door and slipped off your shoes. The soft glow of evening light filtered through the windows, giving the entire place a serene feel. There was no immediate sound of movement downstairs, but something more faint came from upstairs—a soft giggle, the high-pitched sound unmistakable.

"Sylus? ...Are you up there?" you called out, the smile already pulling at your lips.

No answer—just more giggling.

Curious, you made your way up the stairs, your steps slow and deliberate as you approached the source of the sound. The door to your daughter’s room was slightly ajar, and as you pushed it open, the scene that greeted you filled you with pure amusement. Toys were scattered all around the room, dolls and baby pink teddy bears seated around a small tea table with plastic cups clinking on the surface. But the real sight was in the center of the chaos.

There was Sylus, your formidable, commanding husband, lying flat on the floor with his hands clasped on his chest, eyes closed, and a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No, no, Daddy! Stay put! You not pretty yet!" your daughter scolded in the sweetest little voice, her small hands busy rummaging through a pile of stickers.

"I'm as still as I can be, sweetie," Sylus murmured, barely moving a muscle. "I'm not going anywhere."

You covered your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to bubble up as you stepped further into the room, but the moment was short-lived as your daughter spotted you. Her eyes lit up in pure delight, and she gasped as if you’d appeared from nowhere.

"Mummy!, Mummy! Look! Look how pretty Daddy is now!" She scrambled up from her spot, her tiny hand reaching for yours as she dragged you closer to the spectacle. "Daddy won’t scare anymore! People will like Daddy now!"

You bit your lip to contain your laughter when you got a proper look at Sylus. His face, once an intimidating picture of authority and dominance, was now decorated with Hello Kitty stickers and glittering stars. The contrast was almost too much to handle.

“Well, don’t you look handsome as ever?” you teased, standing over him with an affectionate grin.

Sylus cracked an eye open and smirked. "And how can I resist? My own princess demands I become a statue for her enjoyment."

“You are fulfilling your role quite beautifully," you said, trying to peel one of the stickers off his cheek, only for your daughter to intervene, placing her tiny hand on yours with the fiercest pout she could manage.

“No, Mummy! Daddy needs to be pretty!”

You and Sylus exchanged a glance, amused as ever, while your daughter grabbed a fresh set of stickers, picking the sparkliest one of the bunch. With a proud smile, she pressed a glittery star right onto Sylus’ nose.

"Yaaay!"

Before you could respond, Sylus' smirk widened. "Princess, why don’t you add some of your beauty onto Mommy? Make her feel just as pretty as me."

Your daughter, to both your surprise, frowned and shook her head, her little hands resting on her hips. "No! Mommy is already pretty. Mommy doesn’t need stickers, she’s not mean! Mommy is nice so Mommy doesn’t need to be pretty!"

With that final declaration, she slapped another heart-shaped sticker onto Sylus' forehead, sealing his fate.

That was the last straw—you couldn't hold back anymore, laughter bursting from your lips. "Oh my God," you gasped, wiping at the corner of your eye.

Sylus, however, rolled his eyes dramatically. "Help me here…for once, I'll be the one begging."

“Oh, isn’t that a rarity coming from you?” You knelt beside him, gently peeling off the stickers from his face, one by one.

Meanwhile, your daughter looked on, fidgeting with her toys before tugging on your arm. "Mummy… is it bedtime now?"

You glanced outside, the fading light of the day casting soft shadows across the room. "Yes, sweetie. It’s bedtime. As much as you love playtime, it’s time to rest for now."

"The moon is out?" she asked, tilting her head.

You nodded, peeling the last of the glitter from Sylus' face and then guiding your daughter to her bed. Tucking her in with care, you kissed her forehead. "Yes, the moon is out. But when the sun comes back, you can play more."

She smiled sleepily, already closing her eyes. "Okay… Night, Mummy."

You and Sylus quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind you. As you walked back down the stairs together, you couldn’t help but giggle. “How long has she been doing that to you?” you asked, barely containing your amusement.

Sylus sighed dramatically. “Ever since you left. She said I look too angry and I have to be ‘kind’ more often. She believed her toys and her drawings would do me great favors.”

You chuckled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Well… she’s not wrong. You did look far better than all the years we’ve been together in that moment.”

“Oh really? Is that what I needed to love you?” Sylus arched a brow, his teasing tone back in full force.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, stifling another laugh.

Sylus shook his head, a laugh of his own escaping. “Please... save me next time.”

You grinned, leaning into him. "Sylus, don't be mean."

[coupsiedaisee]

the devil that he is | a companion | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: smut, just pwp warnings: kissing, mentions of alcohol, uses of daddy and good girl, oral, unprotected sex, creampie wordcount: 1.8k a/n: because @hannieween demanded it, here it is, a companion piece to pulse. please go and give that a read first if u can, though i don't think its necessary to understand the smut in this lmao (v don't get it in ur head that if u start demanding more ill write more this was an exception!!!!) Im really quite new to smut and not that great so pls let me know what u liked what u didn't like etc etc. uwu ily all, pls enjoy!

You're cuddled into Seungcheol's chest, sitting on his lap, eyes closed as you listen to the steady beat of your boyfriends's heart. He'd pulled the blanket up to cover you fully and was now rubbing soft circles into your waist.

Seungcheol presses a soft kiss on your cheek, smoothing your hair away from your face, "Are you tired baby?"

"No," you murmur.

Seungcheol's fingers pause, "Do you want to have some more fun?"

You look up at him, "Here?" Again?

"No not here, love," he chuckles.

"Then where?" Not that it mattered. Though you couldn't voice it in the open living room, you were feeling extremely unsatisfied from before.

He raises an eyebrow, "Is that a yes?"

"Yes ," you whisper. Anticipation of what he has planned makes your race.

Suddenly, you feel a cool sticky liquid seep onto your legs through the thin blanket. The liquid slides down your ass.

You throw the the blanket off you, "What—"

"Oh shit, sorry!" says Seungcheol. You see him holding an empty Corona bottle upside down , looking less like he was sorry, and more like a cat who caught the canary. He sets the bottle aside an hooks an arm under your legs, lifting you off his lap bridal style.

"Shua, I spilled beer on us and the couch, I'm gonna go grab some of your clothes to change into!" Seungcheol yells behind him as he carries you up the stairs, setting you down when he gets to a door. He opens the door and pushes you through it, locking it behind him once he's through.

There's a queen bed in the middle of the room with a thick grey comforter, and matching grey pillows. A guitar leans against the wall in the corner, a small shelf with a record player and vinyls next to it. Recognition lights your eyes and you whip around smacking Seungcheol in the chest. "Seungcheol!" Smack! "This is Josh's room!"

"Yeah, it is," Seungcheol's got a cheeky glint in his eye.

Your jaw drops and you smack him again, "We are not doing anything in here! I thought you were taking me to the bathroom." A fresh new blush blooms on your cheeks as heat rushes to your face.

"You want me to take you back downstairs to the bathroom?" Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, smirk growing and eyes darkening. He grabs you by the back of you neck, pulling you towards him, and using his other hand to slide up under you skirt to fondle an ass cheek. Your hands stay on his chest as his hot breath fans over your face, "Do you want everyone to hear the beautiful sounds you're about to make when I fuck you?"

You close your eyes and shudder, imagining people's eyes as they follow you and Seungcheol going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. Imagining Seungcheol bending you over the counter so you can watch him in the mirror as he rails you from behind. The way your loud moans would reverberate off the bathroom walls and echo down the hallways to the living room, kitchen, and game room.

Seungcheol tightens the grip on your ass, "Oh, you do, don't you baby?" His face is so close your noses touch, but he doesn't close the distance between your lips. "You want everyone to hear how filthy you actually are, my shy shy girl." You clench you fingers around the fabric of his polo, and nod the faintest of nods. "I need to hear you baby. Do you or do you not want everyone to hear how drunk you are for Daddy's cock?"

You whine, nodding and grazing your lips against Seungcheol's. He tightens the hold on you neck, holding you back, "Words, babygirl."

"I-I want, you t-to—" You stumble over the words, still too shy to verbalize what you need from your boyfriend.

"We're not going anywhere until you can say it, babygirl," Seungcheol murmurs, moving his hand to cup your jaw.

You swallow before trying again, keeping your voice steady, "I want you to fuck me."

"And," he rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek.

"And?" You falter, looking into his deep brown eyes.

"And, you know what else." He goads you on.

"A-and," You think . Then, you understand and, your thighs rubs against each other on their own accord, seeking friction. "I want everyone to hear," you whisper.

Seungcheol is unrelentless though, the devil that he is. "Hear what, baby?"

You whine and try to lean over to catch his lips with yours.

"Come on," he takes his hand off your ass to smooth your hair out of your face, using the hand on your jaw to force you to look at him. "Say it and I'll give you exactly what you want." Your eyes glaze over at that.

"I want everyone to he-ar," you voice cracks but you keep on, "how filthy I am for Daddy's cock." You wince at how needy your voice sounds.

Seungcheol presses the sweetest, softest, kiss to your lips and smiles at you, "Good girl. Now, that wasn't so hard baby, was it?"

His hands are warm against your cheek and you shyly shake your head no. He pats your cheek, "Go get on the bed, love."

You go to sit on the end of Joshua's bed, perhaps a little too giddy as the bed bounces a little from your weight. Seungcheol follows close behind, unbuttoning his jeans, not once taking his eyes off of you. "Take your shirt off for me, and your skirt," he says, and you don't hestitate for a second to take them off. Seungcheol mirrors you, pulling his polo over his head and stepping out of jeans, leaving him in just his tight black boxer briefs.

His hard cock strains agaisnt the tight fabric and you wonder if he feels just as needy as you are right now. Unable to decipher the look on Seungcheol's face, you decide it resembles something akin to a lion waiting to pounce on a gazelle. He licks his lips, looking down on your nearly naked body.

"For me?" his voice is gruff. Oh, your lingerie set. You'd almost forgotten about it. Deep red and lacey. Bra barely covering the swell of your breasts and panties already ruined from earlier.

You nod, chewing on your lip before asking in a small voice, "Do you like it?"

Seungcheol groans, running a hand through his hair, muttering, "You're gonna be the death of me."

He brings a hand up to up one of your breasts, thumb running over the top. You shiver in anticipation when his thumb grazes your skin.

It doesn't take even a second before Seungcheol's got you on you back against the bed, attacking your throat with kisses. You'll take that as a yes.

You snake a hand up into his hair, fingers tangling into his soft strands, giving it a tug when he mouths at the sensitive spot right under your jaw.

Seungcheol pushes a hand up under your bra and you let out a breathy moan when he swipes over a pert nipple. Your hips buck up into him, craving friction, and he grinds his clothed hard cock over your clothed cunt.

Seungcheol kisses down your neck, and your chest, lower and lower, until he reaches your soaked panties. He rips them off, tossing them into an unknown corner of the room, and uses his hands to spread your legs apart, holding them down firmly at your thighs.

Your breath hitches when you feel Seungcheol lick a fat, wet stripe up your cunt. But he doesn't give you a chance you even think about it, instead attacking your pussy with his mouth, switching between licking at it and sucking your clit. Your head rolls back in pleasure, and any move to grind against his face is halted by his firm hold on your thighs.

"Seungcheol," you whimper, as he sucks roughly at your clit. You pull on his hair, biting back a moan as pleasure builds within you. You need more.

Seungcheol lifts his head, your arousal dripping down his chin. He looks smug at how much you've come undone on just his tongue alone.

He leans up to kiss you, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You moan into his mouth and he ruts agaisnt you. You grind up against him, or at least try to, with his hands still firmly holding you down. "Seungcheol," you whine, "I need you."

Seungcheol groans again, nipping at your bottom lip. He sits up on his knees, still situated between your legs, and pulls out his cock. It's hard and leaking so much pre-cum out its red tip. You nearly drool at the sight.

He rubs his cock against your entrance, letting your arousal smear all over it, and with no preamble, starts to push in.

You gasp at the feeling of his girthy cock slowly stretching you out, "Seungcheol." With one final push, he bottoms out, and god have you never felt so full.

Seungcheol leans down to kiss you and then he starts to move. Slow and languid at first but faster as he starts rocking his hips against yours.

He grunts with every snap of his hips and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide your moans.

"Baby," Seungcheol's breathing hard, but so are you, "Baby, don't cover your mouth, let them hear you." At that, your pussy clenches around Seungcheol's cock, and Seungcheol stalls for a moment, letting out a choked, "Oh my god."

You slip out your own sweet little cry as Seungcheol picks his pace back up, your orgasm starting to build. Seungcheol moves his hand down to your clit and starts rubbing circles on it. "Come for me baby, cum all over Daddy's cock, yeah?"

You let out one final echoing moan as your orgasm comes crashing down around you, Seungcheol following after you with a quick fuck fuck fuck. You whimper from pleasure as you feel Seungcheol fill you up with his cum, the excess leaking out and down your leg onto the bed.

There's a knock on the door, and you both freeze. A moment. And then another knock, this one sounding more hesitant.

"Yeah?" Seungcheol yells, voice raspy.

Another moment, then a pained voice softly floats through the door, Dino, "Um, the guys told me to tell you that we can hear you? And, uh, Shua says to burn the sheets before you come back down?" There's a incomprehensible yell. "Um, actually he says don't come down just—I'm not telling them that!" There's more yelling and Dino sighs, "He would like you two to unkindly jump out the window please."

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CTRLALTDAISEE I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON THIS OR ON OTHER WEBSITES

[enhaeil]

PAINT THIS HOUSE ! ☆ 박종성

"and I want these stairs, those walls, kitchen counters, and those chairs to remind you of how good it feels. and all of these floors and ceilings and every hallway, yeah. not and inch will go untouched... let's paint this house with our love.."

paint this house - brandy

c/w: suggestive, fluff, husband!jay per usual

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

you set down the last box from the moving truck, jay following behind you with another one.

"i can't believe we finally own our own home. i never would've thought..." you say breathing in the scent of fresh paint and cardboard.

"i wouldn't have chosen to do this with anyone else." he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then one on your lips. the kiss is slow and passionate, and leaves you longing for more... but you know there's work to be done, so you pull away.

"we have plenty of time to play around in our home. right now, we should focus on unpacking and decorating," you rub his arms, which had gotten buffer over the years and walk over to a box.

by the time you and jay finish unpacking, the sun sets, and before you know it, it's night.

"it looks amazing here. like home. like us."

you walk over to the pictures hanging on the wall. ones from your wedding, your honeymoon, and even your first date with jay. next to them were baby pictures of the both of you, and hopefully, soon, there would be pictures of your own child.

he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

"i swear you've gotten even more beautiful since our first date." he says, spinning you around to face him.

"impossible. i look a mess right now." you say eyeing the dried paint on your shirt and your sweat-ed out hair.

"a very sexy, attractive mess. one that i'm glad I married."

you can't help but stand on your tippy-toes and press a kiss onto your husband's lips.

the kiss quickly becomes serious, breaths and quiet moans falling in between the two of you.

what was just a kiss, quickly escalated into something more, a night full of intimate lovemaking.

the two of you blessed every part of your new home, painting every surface from the counter to the hallway, with the love you two shared.

you ended the night bare in his arms, dozing off knowing you'd repeat the same process in the morning.

[sinstae]

French Kisses 💋

Pairings | L&DS!Rafayel x fem. reader

Genre | ☁️fluff, 💋smut

Word Count | 3.3k

Warnings | ⚠️ minors DNI ⚠️ established relationship, Dom!Rafayel. Sub!reader, nude painting, tipsy sex, nipple play, teasing, thigh riding, dry humping, vaginal fingering, bigdick!Rafayel, riding, use of Evol, squirting, creampie, fem. receiving oral, cum eating, aftercare 🤧, cute couple

🔖 m.list♡

a/n ; oml- idk why but like this has just been a scene replaying in my head so I had to share this with you guys! Thank you everyone who participated in the poll! Long awaited but 'tis here 💜 stay tuned for my Zylus series that I have planned, so excited 😆 hope you 'njoy! c;

"I want to paint you like my little French girl."

I blink up at Rafayel, my confused gaze meeting his of purple mirth.

“I’m- huh?”

Agreeing to come over to Rafayel’s I never know what to expect only that I’m definitely gonna have my hands full. Of all things, I didn’t expect my boyfriend to suggest nude painting.

“My pretty French-“

“Well, I heard you. I just mean- are you implying what I think?” He’s so close it’s hard to hide the heat rising to my cheeks. A beautiful smile graces his lips, showing off his perfect denture.

“I certainly don’t intend to draw you with a baguette-ow! Baby what was that for?” Rafayel rubs the side of his pec I’d pinched with a slight pout. A very cute pout.

“You freaky frog!”

“Am not!” I raise an eyebrow at him. “It truly is for artistic purposes but-“ He leans back down over me, caging me against the soft orange leather.

The bluish purple hue of the night makes his pretty, pale skin all the more ethereal. His eyes shine even more so when he looks at me; something I noticed from countless failed “studying” attempts which ends in me gazing at him as he paints.

“-I do also think you’d look absolutely stunning on my canvas.” He’s close enough for our noses to touch now. My breath comes up short as I’m stuck staring once again. The moonlight must be a paid actor along with the wind brushing his soft locks across our foreheads.

His breath smells fruity thanks to the amazing fresh assortment we'd gotten earlier in the day- that and the wine.

"You're drunk." I try to deflect, unsure about posing nude yet excited to be admired by Rafayel. A part of me is also curious as to what he sees, what he thinks is beautiful. What about me is so beautiful?

"You wish." He leans back into his position with his leg tucked beneath him as the other brushes the floor.

"I am." I'm not entirely but it's definitely enough to have me consider this. Seeing him in his element from time to time, Rafayel is a beast and a true creator at heart. Most pieces he's passionate about he takes the most time with. Others he could pump out by the dozen.

"Ah-ha! I knew this was a great buy. The guy in the market was on his game but I was skeptical."

"Raf, you always give in to the market sellers." I snort.

"Always? I don't- okay maaaaybe I do but in good faith! I believe they should keep at it, we all have to start somewhere." Rafayel crosses his arms dramatically and I hug my knees tighter, grinning like an idiot. "What's so funny?"

"Hm? Oh- nothing's funny just. . ."

"Just?"

"I'll do it." His eyes widen and he's analyzing for a moment, bracing himself for my fit of giggles and a "gotcha!" but that doesn't come. Instead I stare right into his deep ocean eyes and slowly his face relaxes and the corner of his lips tilt upwards.

"Truly? Ahh.. This makes me so happy. You're my perfect muse, baby." Rafayel leans forward onto his knees again to press a kiss to my lips so abruptly I have no chance to reciprocate. "Let me get everything prepared, yeah? I want you in the sunroom."

The sunroom.

Rafayel's most favorite place to paint. He has beautiful floor to ceiling windows that stretch around the dome shaped room that extends to the roof. Everything is visible there, the beautiful sunrise and sunset that bleeds into the starry night. I'm sure his reasoning is for the sake of lighting because he has a selection of colors or perhaps it's the full moon he wants to take advantage of. Part of me hopes it's because I'm just as precious as his work he keeps locked away there.

He emerges from the hallway after a while and he looks so excited that a fresh wave of anxiety and thrill envelops me.

“Come, Darling. It’s time.” I stand and walk into his open palm.

“Y/N look at me.”

I tear my gaze away from the beautiful set Rafayel clearly took his time planning. Instead of the glass windows as a backdrop against the red plush sofa, Rafayel has set up velvet curtains in a deep blue shade. Pretty jewels hang from the top creating a glittering effect with the help of the moon shining down.

I meet his eyes and he smiles, reaching a hand up to brush his thumb below my right eye. “Hi beautiful. You’re looking nervous.”

“Don’t tease. I’m super nervous.”

“Don’t be. It’s me. I’ve seen you in all your beauty already.”

“I know, I know but not like this. You’ll be staring at me for hours.”

“I also already do that.”

“Raf-“

“Baby, please. Don’t overthink this. I promise I won’t just have you pose there in that pretty head of yours. I’m here with you, yeah?” I release a shaky breath.

“Yeah, okay. Okay, let’s do this.” Rafayel’s smile reaches his eyes and he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before stepping back a foot.

“Now, allow me to unwrap my canvas.” He tucks his finger under my black muscle tank and his chilly finger leaves goosebumps in its wake. As he removes it over my head, revealing my bare breast, he presses kisses to my face then along my arms then across the top of my breast as the cloth drops to the floor.

“Raf don’t-ah~” He ignores me and latches onto a nipple, sucking softly, as both his large hands perk them up. Once he’s satisfied he frees them and stands to his full height over me, tucking a finger into the waistband of my leggings.

“I believe you can handle this, right?” His lips are blushed and slick from his saliva, a beautiful sight paired with the look in his eyes.

I nod, not trusting my voice to stabilize itself while I remove both my leggings and cotton panties to meet my tank. I should thank the Moon and stars above that I decided to randomly shave this morning.

Under Rafayel's gaze I can't help a bit of shyness but his words will always lift me into security. "The most beautiful human I've ever laid eyes on." What a way to single me out.

"Thank you." He holds out his arms and I step into his embrace. His soft fingertips start at my shoulders, massaging gently, then he moves them down the sides of my breast to my waist. He digs into my love handles with a small groan while he leans down into my neck.

"Wow, wow, wow. . .I'm the luckiest fishie ever."

"Mmhm, my fishie."

"Glub glub." He playfully nibbles under my ear making me squeal into the fabric on his shoulder. "All yours, cutie."

He provides me much needed space to breathe and get my bearings before jumping his bones by leading me at the hand to the love seat. I take a seat, blinking up at him awaiting instruction.

"Lie down on your side for me. Mhm, perfect- now relax onto your left palm- no other way, yes good girl. Stop biting your lip, freaky frog. Now let the other hand rest over your tummy just above your hip, yesss yes. Okay now stay still."

Rafayel is true to his word and through the whole process of finding his colors and creating a sketch he entertains me with countless stories and small talk. He allows me a break every so often as he obsesses over an area to avoid my limbs from going numb.

Although I wouldn't mind going numb in another sense.

"I lost you." His words halt my thoughts before they could venture further but he doesn't seem upset or in a rush to continue as he sets aside his brush. "Am I starting to bore you?"

"No, of course not my love. I get easily distracted, you know this. I'm sorry, what did you say?" I feel slightly guilty but he just seems amused.

"Being under my watchful eyes doing things to you?"

"Mmm, a little." I pick up the wine glass from the floor, taking another sip as I eye him over the rim. "Staring at your muse isn't doing things to you?"

Rafayel stands up and walks over to me, one hand tucked into his pants while the other reaches out a finger to tap the rim of my glass. I place it back down onto the floor and sit up straight. He brushes the hair spilled over my shoulder back to expose my chest again then squats down, pressing a kiss where my neck and shoulder meets.

"It's doing many things. . .My line art came out perfect, my passion came easy." I meet his eyes as I lift a hand to guide him by the cheek into a kiss, the first actual kiss of the night.

“Ah- my lipstick. Sorry baby.” I wipe his bottom lip but it just smudges into his skin.

“Don’t be. Paint me too, my love.”

I smile big, surely looking like a smitten fool as I lean in and press a cherry kiss to his cheek. I instinctively wipe it, smudging the corners of the print while Rafayel leans in for another kiss.

He guides me onto my back as he inches his way onto the couch with me, keeping our lips connected in a heated lock of lip biting. “Open..” his finger taps my chin and I open, allowing his tongue inside to dance against mine.

Rafayel pushes his thigh into my core, his clothes rough against my pussy but the friction heaven sent. I moan into his mouth and he eagerly drinks them up as he rocks into me. I feel his growing erection against my inner thigh and I try to reach a hand down to feel him heavy in my palm but he stops me, gripping my wrists together with one hand.

He breaks the kiss and I chase his mouth, releasing a puff of air as he leans further away. Rafayel chuckles, showing off his canines. “I like you like this. Panting for me, look at you.” His voice almost coos and it makes me a bit self aware, blushing under his gaze.

“Stop teasing,” Half of me is saying that while the lower part of me wants him to continue. Rafayel has never given me a night without utter bliss, falling apart at his hands (and mouth) multiple times a night with the stamina infused in him. He truly isn’t human.

"I'm not though. You look so beautiful like this. . ." He brushes stray hair from my face. "Hair in its natural state, makeup fading, skin soft." He digs his equally soft hand into my thigh and I open wider for him.

"Raf, please. I need you."

"I know sweet girl, I'm not gonna deny you." I give him a look. "Nor will I tease, I promise. I just want a last look at you." He trails his ring clad fingers down the side of my cheek to the base of my throat, squeezing gently, then ends his journey at my breast. He pinches my nipple, making me intake air, choking up on my moan.

His head dips down and follows the sting with his warm mouth and tongue while his hand continues down my body to where I want him most. Rafayel runs his middle finger along my lips, gently pushing past each time he strokes upwards until he brushes my clit.

"Oh~" My eyes fall shut as I turn my face into my bicep, clasping my hands together as I fight against my body wanting to shake and squirm under his touch. A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins turning them hot the more pressures he applies.

Rafayel looks up at me over the plump of my chest, releasing my blushed nipple with a wet pop. He adds his ring finger in with his middle as he dips into my wetness again then brings his soaked fingers up to slip into his mouth.

He moans with a mouthful. "So sweet." He licks his lips as he withdraws his fingers to bring them back down to my open legs only this time he gently applies pressure to my opening with precision. With the right amount of pressure, and an angle he knows well, his fingers easily slide in and he curls them.

"Deeper," I gasp and take advantage of his hand around my wrist loosening to reach down and grasp his long sleeve. Rafayel groans as he rolls his hips harder into my thigh, fingers sliding deeper until the cold silver around his fingers touch my warm insides.

"Fuck, you're so hot, Y/N." Rafayel is breathy in my ear as his hand slides into my own, grasping tightly, as he forces his hips away before he blows his load in his pants. His fingers keep their pace while he kisses along my temple and cheek. "Doing so good, baby. I feel you, you're close. Aren't you?"

The rasp and need in his voice is enough to help me reach my peak, walls clenching sporadically as he sneaks in a third finger to attempt to match his girth. My orgasm rips through me, nerve endings feeling like sparks as I clutch him to ground myself.

"Yes, let me hear that beautiful voice sing. My little Siren." Rafayel removes his fingers and smears my cum along my body, hands moving as if it's a paintbrush in gentle strokes. I follow his hand while he watches my face, scrunched and flushed in pleasure as I moan softly.

Rafayel smiles to himself and leans down to press a kiss to my lips then his large hands slips underneath my arms to switch our positions to me straddling his hips. I brace myself with my hands on his shoulders as I keep my hips lifted while he works his pants and briefs off.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you riding me. You look so beautiful on top." He kicks his pants to the side, hands rubbing my ass and squeezing as he lowers me down against his dick. He's fully erect and his tip is red, probably angry from the dry humping. Rafayel moans as he slides his dick through my lips and against my clit, teasing us both from the sensitivity.

"Raf~ ah!" Before I could complain he lines himself up and drags me down till our pelvis meets. The first thrust is way too deep in this position taking all eight inches of him. I jerk upwards, top of my feet resting over his thighs to help push myself. "Wait- fuck, ah please~"

Rafayel tries to help with rubbing my tummy with one hand and the other resting on my ass. "You can control it baby," I breathe a sigh of relief. "For now."

I ignore him, too lost in the growing pleasure as I rise and fall, only taking half of what he has to offer. It's more than enough with his girth filling me and it seems to satisfy him as well. Moving his hand from my stomach he guides my breast towards him, sucking my nipple with deep moans as he plays with the other.

"Thank you, thank you." I cry out in pleasure against his hair as I hug his head close, arching my back as my hips speed up taking another inch.

"No, thank you my sweet Y/N." A litter of kisses to my breast. "You're so beautiful, riding me so well... Take more for me? Please?"

I pull away, looking down at his hazed over eyes full of adoration and lust. Rafayel isn't known for his patience, especially when it comes to pleasure. While he doesn't rush, his hips certainly doesn't do slow. He has the stamina of a bunny at times and cause of that he's the only man to ever make me squirt.

The first time it'd happened he was stuck staring in awe while I was extremely embarrassed having not warned him. He assured me it was nothing to be ashamed of and he's been hell bent on making it happen any chance he gets.

Perhaps tonight.

I give in and slide down another inch, walls fluttering around him. He releases a breathy moan and his wavy hair sticking to his forehead makes him look so sinful and-

“Pretty boy~ ‘m gonna come again- ack! Gentle baby, so sensitive right now.” Rafayel giggles around my nipple he’d just bit into then presses a kiss as an apology.

“One more and you’ll surely be able to take all of me, cutie.” He litters kisses all along my jaw and neck as his hands roam my spine and ass. My pace slows as I inch closer to pleasure, angling my hips to have his tip nudge my g-spot.

“Fuuuck yes!” I squeeze Rafayel’s girth as I come, whimpering and moaning into his hair as he quickly works my clit like a DJ. I grip his wrist to halt his pace but he fights against me until he gets exactly what he wants. “Raf no~” A pornographic whiny moan bounces against the glass panes as my body shakes almost violently while I squirt all over his toned abs.

“Oh- sh-shit.” Rafayel takes advantage of my walls loosening in its relaxed state and slides me down to meet his balls, tip aching to breach my cervix. He knocks the air from my lungs and damn near my consciousness.

I feel my body start to slump when suddenly I feel coolness near my lower tummy. I look down through teary lashes and Rafayel has activated his Evol. Beautiful baby blue tendrils swirling through my cum, collecting it to create a raspberry shape then it floats into his open mouth. His eyes flash purple.

My eyes are wide, face blushing red at the sight and he just smirks.

“Mmm, my favorite taste. You’re so sweet."

"You-"

"I?"

"You just-"

"I- I-" Rafayel chuckles while I pout from his teasing, reaching out to grab the back of my neck to pull me in closer. "Take just a little more for me, Darling. Yeah?"

I nod weakly with our foreheads pressed together as he shifts my upper body weight onto his, holding my ass suspended in place to thrust up into. I keep my eyes on his, feeling every emotion swirling in his orbs. My walls slowly grow tighter with each increasing thrust into a new pace and his grunts come more frequent.

I whine at the oversensitivity getting to me while wrapped around his neck using him as a lifeline. Muscles aching, clit throbbing, nipples brushing, deep thrust send us both into an orgasm- mind numbing for me.

When consciousness finally finds me again I'm on my back in our bed with Rafayel between my legs "cleaning" me up. Really he's just being a freaky frog, slurping both our releases past his pouty lips.

"Raf~ baby please- no more." I moan the words out but Rafayel knows to call it quits with a last long lick towards my clit. He grins up at me and kisses it then trails kisses up my body, now dressed in a violet silk slip, to press a bunch of pecks all over my neck.

We roll around in a giggly fit until Rafayel cages me in his bare biceps, using a bit of strength to keep me still. I look up at him and his eyes are so soft matching his smile. Using his arm that isn't holding me, he raises his hand to brush his thumb across the bridge of my nose, cheeks then lips before leaning in.

"I love you so much, my Y/NN."

"I love you mostest, my Sea God."

I relax further into his hold feeling my sleepiness begin to creep in as he presses gentle kisses to my lips before angling my jaw to slip past my lips with his tongue. I can't remember the defining moment of falling asleep but fresh on my mind when I awake is French kisses.

[pedriache]

You got an Arda request about them having a fight and he is sleeping on the couch.

Can you write something with Kenan? Maybe a lil bit different just Kenan being more like a 'baby' and at first he is like you can sleep here but i'm not gonna cuddle and she is trying to open his arms and then he just giving in and cuddle with her

Count to five — Kenan Yildiz.

Pairing: Kenan Yildiz x Gn!Reader

Summary: Though you and Kenan had just argued a few moments prior, you can’t sleep alone. The problem was, Kenan was being… difficult.

Word count: 510

Disclaimer/s: Angst to happy ending.

A/N: Hope this works idk

The darkness of your bedroom was all consuming. You had been tossing and turning for well over an hour by now. The empty bed, besides your cold body, was unsettling. Never in the two years you’d been dating Kenan had you slept alone knowing he was only twenty feet away. It was weird and uncomfortable.

Turning onto your left side, you stare at the white door a few feet away, contemplating. You were still pissed off at Kenan. The argument still very fresh in your mind, but was that a reason to lose sleep?

Just count to five. Chill the hell out.

One… Two… Three… Four..

Slipping out of the bed sheets, you tug on a pair of socks before padding your way through the door and toward the living room. You find your boyfriend sprawled out on the sofa, tousled hair and a pout on his lips. You smile at the sight before flattening it. You were still supposed to be mad.

Five.

Slipping to your knees beside the couch, you gently shake his shoulders. “Kenan.” You hiss, “Babe. Wake up.”

Kenan groans, eyes fluttering open to land on you. “What?” He huffs, narrowing his gaze onto you, concern hidden deep beneath them.

“I can’t sleep.” You sigh, “scoot over.”

Your boyfriend lets out a humorless laugh, “you’re joking?” But he examines your face, eyebrow quirking at the seriousness you depicted.

“Do I look like i’m joking?” You scoff, “scootch.”

Kenan rolls his eyes, doing as told. He makes just enough space for you to get comfortable. Instinctively, your arm comes up to wrap around his torso, but Kenan is quick to shift away. You gasp, “excuse you?”

“No. No, cuddling.” He wags his finger at you, taking your wrist and resting your arm back around your own stomach.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you pinch your lips together. “Don’t be difficult. This is literally why our argument started.” Oh.. bad idea to bring that up..

Kenan instantly stiffens, crossing his arms together. “Hey, it’s not my fault you—“

“Kenan.” You grumble, reaching for his arms and prying them apart. “Let’s talk about this in the morning, yeah?”

Taking a long breath of air, Kenan gives in. He lets you wrap his arms around your waist and your head on his shoulder. “You better not throw us off the couch with your moving.”

“I am not a mover?” You lift your head off his shoulder, coming face to face with your boyfriend. His teeth shine through an amused grin on his lips.

“Yes, you most certainly are.” He argues, his eyes flickering to your lips teasingly.

Huffing out an annoyed breath of air, your watch his gaze shifting between your eyes and lips. “Take it back, and i’ll contemplate a kiss.”

Kenan thinks for a minute, “I suppose i’ll take it back.” He tilts his head to the side, “so..”

“Suppose?” You laugh, “yeah, no. Good night.”

The brunette frowns, “okay. I take it back! I do!” You grin triumphantly, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[catherinnn]

Marked

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem tattoo artist!reader warnings: SMUT (+18), p i v, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), breeding kink, Eddie has a pain kink, masochism? idk they're both pretty freaky, no descriptions of body, race, or anything more than afab reader. words: 2.6k masterlist

He's sat in the reclining chair explaining where he wants the tattoos. Signalling one on the side of his hip, just above his jeans. And the other on his right pectoral.

You sit in front of him, reclining his chair so was almost laying down. "Okay, take your shirt off, please"

He complies, laying back on the chair, exited to get started as you put your gloves on.

"Are you comfy?" you check.

"Yeah, real good"

"Great" you grab the gel first and put some on the side of his tummy, right above the pants. And gently massage to move it all around the area, peeking subtly at his toned torso.

"See something you like, sweetheart?" he teases me.

"You’re making me tattoo you here, I have to look" you defend yourself. You grab the stencil and place it where he indicated, you press gently to make sure it transfers.

"You like it there?" you ask one last time just to make sure and after he says it's positive, you grab the tattoo gun and fill the tip with ink. "Ready?"

"Totally" he smirks and you start the job.

He lets out a sharp breath as he feels the needle pierce into his skin, wincing slightly at the initial stinging pain. But he keeps his eyes fixed on you, watching your focused expression as you begin working on the tattoo.

"Is that good? Doesn’t hurt too much, right?" you check on him.

"It's okay, I can handle it"

Your face is close to his hip as you put all of your attention on the needle, trying to ignore his occasional groans or the way his muscles flex and ripple from the pain every now and then.

"We can take a break whenever you need" you remind him.

"Nah doll, I'm good for now"

"But tell me if you need it. I have all night just for you"

"I'll tell you if it becomes too much" he assures you.

"Good boy" you comment and he rolls his eyes at the teasing.

You continue on the tattoo until you’re halfway done, since he asks you to let him take a breath for a second.

You leave the gun at the table and stroke his tummy around his tattoo, softly.

"Your hands are magic" he says.

You chuckle before lowering to blow some fresh air into the slightly redden skin.

"Mmh that feels good" he almost shivers.

"Yeah?" you mumble.

His hand lowers to rest on your head. "Yeah, doll"

You look up at him as you start leaving some pecks around the area.

His eyes widen slightly at my gaze, and his muscles tense involuntarily as you kiss around the area of his fresh tattoo. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Does that help?" you ask innocently.

"Oh yeah, it's working" he smirks knowing damn well what you’re doing.

He gently caresses your face with his rough, calloused hand, his fingers tracing the contour of your jaw. His eyes fixed on yours, his expression a mixture of desire and affection. He swallows hard, trying to keep his composure, but his body betrays his feelings. "You're really testing my limits, doll"

"Just wanna make you feel better" you shrug acting innocent. "Plus, we still have some time before us. I have to finish both tattoos, and then I can kiss them better"

"Yeah? You're gonna kiss them all better? I'm gonna be your canvas then, baby"

"Yeah? I could even tattoo my name into your skin?" you ask teasingly.

His eyes darken at the thought of having your name permanently etched into his skin. He nods. "Yeah, doll. Even that. You can mark me as yours"

"Don't temp me" you smirk.

"I'm practically begging you" he says still stroking your face with his hand. You suck on his thumb.

He gasps as he feels your lips around it. "You're gonna drive me crazy if you keep this up"

"We still have a few hours ahead of us. Should I keep going now?"

"Yeah, go ahead"

You grab the gun and continue on the tattoo. He closes his eyes as he feels it again, the pain blending with pleasure. Only more fuelled by the fact that you’re the one creating it. His eyes focused on you. "You really know how to make a man suffer" he jokes and you chuckle at that. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Making me squirm and suffer"

"I'm almost done with this one" you let him know.

After you finish it, you clean it up so he can admire the total work. "Check it out"

He sits up and looks down at the tattoo, his eyes widening as he takes in the design. He runs his fingers over the ink, feeling the slight raised skin where the needle dug into his body. "Damn, doll. It looks incredible. You’re really incredible at this”

You cover it with the wrap to protect it. "Should we start with the other one?"

"Alright, yeah" he grins.

You accommodate the chair so he's sitting more upright. "Over here, right?" You check again before putting the gel on.

"Yup, right there, sweetheart"

You repeat the process of gel and placing the stencil right where he wants it.

"I was thinking... that to do this one and be comfy, I could..." you say as you sit on his lap facing him. His hands automatically go to rest on your hips. "I could sit here so I can have a better look, we want this tattoo to be as good as possible, right?" you ask acting innocently.

He smirks, hands tightening the grip. "Yeah, makes sense, princess. We want it to look good" he plays along.

"Fuck" he mumbles as you shift to sit comfier. "You’re making it hard to concentrate"

"Well, try to, because we still have to do this tattoo"

"Yeah, just stop squirming so much, sweetheart. You’ll make it hard for the both of us"

"Yeah, I can feel how hard it is for you" you grin feeling his hard-on right on your thigh.

"It's your fault" he laughs and you kiss his cheek before starting the tattoo on his chest.

You pierce his skin with the needle of the gun. He flinches at the initial string. But the feeling of your body on top of his mixed with the sensation of the needle is strangely arousing. "It hurts but in a really good way, it feels so good"

"Fuck Eddie" you whisper as he really is making this harder.

"Keep saying my name, baby" he teases you. It takes everything in him to not move you even closer to him.

"Stop it, I don't wanna mess it up" you complain. It's both funny and concerning how his mind is completely somewhere else and he cannot take this serious right now because of you.

"Right, gotta stay focused" he shakes his head trying to concentrate. He tries to maintain his composure as you continue working on the tattoo, his focus shifting between the pain of the needle and the feeling of your legs around him. The heat in his cock is growing, his pants getting tighter by the second.

He can't help but groan, his eyes darkening because of a particular spot where the needle pierces really close to his bone, it's where it hurts more —meaning: where he most likes it.

"Stop, Eddie" you complain.

"I need you now, doll"

"Baby, I'm gonna mess it up, stay still for me"

"It's impossible, you're killing me here"

"It's just a few minutes more, this one is smaller"

"Okay, okay" he takes a deep breath, willing himself to stay still.

He tries to focus on anything but the way your body is pressed against his, or the look on your face as you concentrate. He can feel himself growing harder, but he tries to resist, not wanting to distract you.

"I'm almost done" you say after a while. He just nods, waiting patiently now. "Focus on the pain. How does it feel?" you tease him.

"It hurts so good" he groans.

"Yeah? Makes you feel good?"

"Shit, yeah"

"I can feel how much you like the pain" you chuckle.

"Mmh, I do" he presses you down harder. "Shit, doll"

"Patience, baby" you remind him. His hands move to your ass, as he squeezes it just to keep him occupied.

"Fuck" he keeps cursing and moving you.

"Edward" you warn him.

"Yeah, doll, say my name again"

"Is everything turning you on right now?" you can't help but laugh.

He laughs breathlessly. "Everything about you is"

"I'm almost done" you remind him.

The instant you finish with the tattoo, Eddie's hands are on you, pulling you against him, his lips finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He's lost all control, all pretense of restraint gone as his body takes over.

"Mmph" you moan as he kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer onto his lap. "Wait, baby-"

He doesn't wait, his lips continuing to move over yours. He pulls you closer, his hands roaming over your body, wanting, needing more of you. The taste of you, the feel of you in his arms, is all consuming.

"I have to clean you up" you say against his lips.

"I don't care" he groans. You just chuckle as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His kisses move down to your neck. "Need to feel you, princess"

"Take my clothes off" you order and he quickly moves to oblige, his hands immediately going to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to then move to take your bra off as well.

"You're so fucking beautiful" he moans.

"Yeah, baby?" you tease him as you take his belt off. He kisses your breasts as you fight with his pants.

"You're all mine" he mumbles against your skin.

"Am I?" you keep teasing. "But you have to be all mine then"

He just nods repeatedly as he kisses your nipple.

"Then I could sign your skin" you joke.

His body shudders. "Mark me up doll, it’s yours"

"Want me to write my pretty name into your skin?"

He groans lowly, his hands gripping your hips tighter at the thought of it. "Mmm, yes, please"

You wrap your hand around his neck, bringing him back to your lips. He kisses you hungry, hands roam all over your body.

You tighten the hold of his neck.

He groans louder, his cock jumping in his pants. "That feels fucking good"

"I think I like causing you pain" you confess against his lips. Thinking about putting the needle on his skin as he flinches, and the way he would breathe harder as you choke him lightly.

"Hurt me all you want" he moans.

"I'm so so wet for you, baby" you say to his ear.

He presses you harder on him, so you feel his hardness pressing against his jeans. "I need you right fucking now"

You finally lower his pants with his boxers. You rise your skirt up and move your panties to the side. You place him on your entrance, sinking down on his cock once and for all.

"Fuck... yes" he sighs, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

"Oh Eddie" you moan as you start to move back and forth.

"You feel so fucking good. Just like that, ride me just like that" he grips your hips tighter. "Use me all you need"

"Oh babyy" you cry.

His hands stay on your hips and ass, helping you move faster. He leaves a trail of hot burning kisses on your collarbone.

He focuses on the way your tits bounce as you jump on his cock, your tiny gasps and moans every time your skins hit with other, your brows going up and your eyes rolling back. It's everything Eddie can focus on, —that, and the way you feel wrapped around his dick— and he feels the need to keep this view forever.

"Fuck Eddie" you moan as he slaps your ass.

"You feel too fucking good. I don't think I could ever get enough of you, sweetheart" he says against your ear.

"Shit," you pull on his hair tighter. "You look so pretty with your new tattoos"

"Yeah? You like them, doll?"

"You look so so good"

"You're one to talk" he smirks breathless as he keeps pounding into you, bouncing you on his dick.

His hair is a mess, his lips are slightly open letting out groans and curses, his grip on your ass is so firm that you wouldn't be surprised if he leaves marks, his chest shining with a sheet of sweat making his brand new tattoo even prettier, his neck shows some veins and it vibrates every time he lets a moan out, his doe eyes somehow even more adorable as he looks at you, admiring you as you are him.

After leaving some very necessary marks on his neck, you move up to his lips that were calling you.

Your kiss is messy but somehow hotter.

One of his hands moves in between you two to press and rub your puffy clit that was rubbing against his pubic hair seconds before.

"Oh, I'm-" you moan but you can't even finish the sentence.

"You're gonna cum, princess?" he teases you.

"I'm cumming!"

"Cum for me, cream my cock" he moans and you obey him, arching your back like a cat and crying his name as you feel the pleasure take over your whole body.

"That’s it, that's good baby" he holds you as his moves are messier now. He sees the white ring that formed around his cock from your arousal and that's enough to make him feel over the edge. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Can I cum inside you? Please"

"Fill me up, baby" you say weekly in his ear and that makes him bust his load with a loud groan of your name in between some curses.

His head throws back, resting on the chair. Your head resting on his shoulder. You feel him softening inside you but neither of you can move yet. You stay in your own mess as you try to catch your breaths.

Eddie is the first to snap out of it, he picks up the wipes you conveniently had on your desk right next to you. They were actually meant to clean his tattoos up, but you got busier.

Firstly, he slightly moves you to remove himself from you. Then, he cleans you up slowly and delicately.

"It's funny that you're so careful now" you chuckle.

He smirks and leaves a good kiss on your forehead.

"I still have to clean you up" you say referring to his tattoo. He just nods and lets you take care of it like you did with the other one. "All good"

"Thank you, baby"

"As comfy as I am here, and I'm very fucking comfy, we can't stay here all night" you explain as you still have close the studio up.

"Right, no, of course" he notices.

You start getting dressed and tidying everything up. He had already paid before the session so that was already covered.

"Ready" you say after closing up. You stand uncomfortably at the door of the studio.

"Good... hey, you wanna- maybe come to my house and we can order some food and watch a movie or something?" Eddie proposes nervously. It was weird how you always made him so nervous, never those models or actresses he meets, only you had that power over him.

"Sure, I'd love to" you smile.

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

tag to @mediocredreams cause she was excited to read this ♡

[lxndonorris]

workout - Carlos Sainz

Y/N x Carlos Sainz Theme: Smut (you've been warned) steamy workout session with Carlos x word count: 3410+ sorry for the poor attempt of being quirky with some words hehe

Carlos is in full pre-season training mode, and his home gym has become his personal playground—a space where he sharpens his body for the grueling F1 season ahead.

He's set up neatly in the corner of his house, with dumbbells, resistance bands, and a sleek bench press. The air smells faintly of rubber mats and his fresh cologne, mixing with the sounds of his steady, controlled breathing.

He's wearing that baby blue, form-fitting shirt that hugs every contour of his toned upper body, paired with dark blue shorts that give just the right amount of freedom for movement. Underneath, these light yellowish green spandex-like pants accentuate his thighs beautifully. His white cap sits snugly backward as he focuses on his form. The stubble on his jaw is growing perfectly, giving him that rugged, effortlessly handsome look.

You're sitting nearby, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, pretending not to care, but your attention keeps slipping. And he knows it.

Carlos would always ask you to accompany him during workouts, like he says, 'to have someone to chat,' but you both know that he's just happy and excited to show off.

He starts with some warm-ups—rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms—glancing your way between movements.

"You sure you don't want to join?" he teases, smirking. His Spanish accent lingers playfully in the air.

You don't look up immediately, playing it cool.

"I'm good here, thanks."

It is a little game you play anytime he's trying to tease you. He loves to play, but he doesn't like following your rules. If he isn't in control, he tries anything to get it back.

Carlos gets in position for two sets of push-ups, his entire body angled perfectly for you to stare at his behind—his broad shoulders, back, and ass. His tight clothes leave barely anything to your imagination.

He doesn't even need to see you; he just knows you're watching, enjoying every second—every push, every soft groan leaving his mouth.

As he gets up, he glances your way again, catching you staring, causing him to lick his lips. Your cheeks are burning slightly, flushing with color.

Carlos chuckles under his breath before moving on to the weights. He picks up a pair of dumbbells, positioning himself in front of the mirror now. His biceps flex as he curls them up, veins subtly appearing, visible through his hairy arms, his muscles tightening under that tight shirt.

"Don't get too distracted," he says, looking at you through the mirror with a knowing smirk.

You scoff, tilting your phone slightly to shield your face.

"Please, I've seen this a million times."

That is true, yet somehow, this display ignites something deep inside you every, single time.

He chuckles, switching to shoulder presses, lifting the weights above his head with slow, controlled movements.

"Mmm-hmm. That's why you're still watching."

You roll your eyes dramatically, your cheeks flushing still. "I've nothing else to look at."

Carlos shakes his head, suppressing a soft chuckle, setting down the dumbbells before moving to the pull-up bar.

With an effortless motion, he grips it and pulls himself up, his shirt lifting slightly to reveal the carved definition of his lower abs. His muscles work in perfect sync—shoulders, biceps, and core—all moving together in flawless rhythm.

"Still nothing to look at, huh?" he breathes out between reps.

You cross your legs, feigning indifference.

"Not particularly."

Carlos drops down with a soft thud and turns to face you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He tugs at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up ever so slightly, fanning himself as if he's working so hard.

"Maybe I should take this off," he muses, his smirk deepening. "It's getting hot."

You roll your eyes again, but your heartbeat stutters.

"Don't be dramatic."

He chuckles, deep and rich, stepping closer, his body radiating warmth.

"Come here," he says smoothly, flexing his arm in front of you. "Feel that?"

You glance at him warily but bite your lip, giving in. Your fingers wrap around his biceps, feeling the hard muscle beneath your touch. It's solid, warm, and completely unyielding.

Carlos watches you, enjoying your reaction.

"Tighter than last season?" he asks, voice low.

You hum, running your fingers up his arm before pressing against his chest. His pecs are firm, his breathing steady beneath your palm.

"I don't know," you say, teasing. "Might need more proof."

His smirk grows, his confidence unwavering.

"Oh? Keep going then."

Your hands trail lower, fingertips ghosting over his abs through the slightly damp fabric of his shirt. Each ridge is defined, taut beneath your touch. His breathing hitches slightly when you let your fingers drift even further down, brushing against his lower stomach.

That's when you notice it—the slight strain in his shorts, the way the fabric has begun to pull just a little tighter.

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow.

Carlos isn't just enjoying the workout. He's enjoying this.

"Something wrong?"

He doesn't shy away. Instead, he steps closer, bringing himself just inches from you. His hands settle on the arms of your chair, effectively caging you in.

You feel the heat radiating from his skin, the faint scent of sweat and cologne filling your senses.

"Not at all," he murmurs, his voice lower, huskier.

You smirk, pressing your palm lightly against his chest again.

"You seem... tense."

Carlos exhales a small chuckle, then leans in, his lips grazing your cheek as he speaks.

"And whose fault is that?"

You barely have time to react before his mouth finds yours. The kiss starts slow, deliberate, his lips warm and firm against yours. He deepens it, one hand sliding up your arm, his fingers teasing over your skin.

You let out a quiet hum, finally dropping your phone, your hands slipping back to his chest, nails grazing lightly over his shirt. His body tenses beneath your touch, but he doesn't pull away—he leans in closer, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, like he's proving a point.

Then, he pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, a smug grin playing on his lips. His breath is warm against your skin, his dark eyes heavy-lidded with something between amusement and desire.

"You liked that, didn't you?" you murmur, your fingers still resting lightly against his chest.

He hums, a low, contented sound deep in his throat.

"Maybe," he admits, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "But I think you liked it more."

You scoff, tilting your head.

"Oh? And what makes you think that?"

His smirk deepens, and before you can react, he leans in again, brushing his lips along your jawline, teasingly slow.

"Because," he whispers, the heat in his voice unmistakable, "you haven't stopped touching me."

You roll your eyes but don't move your hand. Instead, you let your fingers drift lower, ghosting over the fabric of his shorts, teasing the strain that's undeniably there. His breath hitches slightly, but he doesn't stop you.

He likes this game. Loves it, even.

"Careful," he warns, his voice thick, playful but edged with something deeper. "If you keep that up, I—"

You press your palm more firmly against him, a teasing squeeze that has him sucking in a sharp breath.

"You were saying?" You challenge, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

Carlos growls in his throat, his jaw clenching slightly as his hands tighten on the arms of your chair.

His control is slipping, and he knows it.

But instead of pulling away, he leans in, his lips brushing just below your ear.

"You really like testing me, don't you?" He murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement and something dangerously exciting.

You grin, dragging your fingers back up his stomach, feeling the way his muscles twitch under your touch.

"And you really like failing the test."

Carlos exhales a breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"Oh, cariño," he murmurs, his hands finally sliding down to your waist, gripping just firm enough to send a shiver through you. "You have no idea what you've started."

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of the heat radiating off his body. His smirk is still there, but there's something else in his eyes now—something darker, more intense.

He likes this game, but he also likes to win.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence.

"Started what?"

Carlos huffs a small laugh, his nose brushing against your jaw as he speaks.

"Something you won't be able to handle."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

Before you can react, he moves, his hands slipping down to the backs of your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts you up from the chair with ease, his strength on full display as he carries you effortlessly.

You barely have time to gasp before he sets you down onto his workout bench, stepping between your legs, caging you in completely.

His hands settle on either side of your hips, his face hovering inches away from yours.

"You act like you're in control," he breathes, his voice smooth, teasing. "But we both know how this ends."

You exhale slowly, feeling your pulse quicken as he watches you, waiting for your next move.

You don't back down—you never do.

Instead, you trail your hands back up his chest, over his shoulders, fingers teasing along the hem of his shirt.

"Maybe," you admit, slipping your hands under the fabric, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "But I think you like it when I try."

Carlos inhales sharply at the touch, his jaw flexing slightly as you ghost your fingers down his torso again, teasing the hard planes of his stomach. His muscles twitch under your fingertips, but he doesn't move- doesn't stop you.

Instead, he leans in closer, his lips barely grazing your ear.

"I do," he admits, his voice a low, velvety murmur. "But don't think for a second that I won't turn the tables."

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his abdomen, watching as his breath stutters ever so slightly.

"Then do it," you challenge softly.

Carlos pulls back up just enough to look at you, his eyes flickering with something undeniably dangerous and playful.

"Oh, cariño," he whispers, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

Then, before you can react, he grips your wrists, pinning them lightly against the bench as he leans down, his mouth finding yours again—this time with no hesitation, no teasing.

Carlos' lips crash against yours, but it's not just a kiss—it's a statement. It's him taking control, proving his point without words. His grip on your wrists is firm but not unkind, just enough to remind you that no matter how much you tease him, he was always the on in charge when he decided to be.

You exhale sharply against his mouth, but you don't fight it. You let him lead, let him deepen the kiss until it's all-consuming, until your fingers twitch beneath his grasp, aching to touch him again.

He notices, of course—Carlos always notices.

Smirking against your lips, he releases your wrists, and you waste no time running your hands through his hair, knocking his cap off in the process. His dark strands are slightly damp from his workout, and when you tug just a little, he groans softly against your mouth.

"You play dirty," he mutters, his hands finding your hips, thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to make you shiver.

You grin.

"So do you."

Carlos hums in agreement, pulling you closer, eliminating any space between you.

His body is warm, his muscles tense beneath your hands as you drag them down his back, feeling every inch of his strength. His breathing is heavier now, the teasing from earlier fading into something else entirely.

His lips trail down to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. You suck in a breath as he murmurs against your skin.

"You started this, cariño. Don't tell me you're backing out now."

You scoff, tilting your head to give him better access.

"You're the one who's been showing off all day."

He chuckles, his hands slipping lower, gripping your thighs as he leans in.

"And you love watching."

You smirk, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

"Maybe."

Carlos studies you for a moment, eyes dark and full of amusement, then suddenly—he lifts you off the bench effortlessly again. A small gasp leaves your lips as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

"Carlos—"

"Shh," he smirks, walking you toward the wall, pressing you gently against it.

His strength is ridiculous—he's barely exerting effort, and it only fuels his ego.

"See," he murmurs, voice laced with smug satisfaction. "This is why I train."

You roll your eyes, but your heart is pounding.

"So you can show off?"

Carlos grins.

"So I can do this."

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours again, deeper this time, more demanding. His fingers dig into your hips, pressing you closer against him. The tension from earlier, the teasing, the buildup—it all snaps into something more urgent, more intense.

His breath is warm against your skin, his lips teasing along your jawline as he holds you effortlessly against the wall. His grip is firm and strong, and there's an undeniable smugness in the way he keeps you there like you weigh nothing.

"You were saying?" He mirrors your tone from earlier, pressing a low, deliberate kiss just below your ear.

You exhale a shaky breath, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"That you show off too much."

Carlos chuckles, his chest vibrating against yours.

"And yet," he says, moving his lips down your throat, "you keep watching."

You smirk even as your pulse races.

"You like that I do."

His hands tighten on your thighs, pressing you impossibly closer.

"I love that you do."

The playful game from earlier hasn't disappeared—it's still there, woven into every touch, every teasing glance—but now, there's something deeper, something more intense.

Carlos isn't just playing to win anymore; he's savoring it, enjoying every reaction he pulls from you.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking to your lips.

"You gonna keep teasing?"

You hum, dragging your fingers down his back.

"Wouldn't it be fun if I didn't?"

Carlos grins at that, his hands sliding up to your waist.

"Then I guess I'll have to remind you who's really in control here."

He pushes away from the wall, carrying you easily as he walks you toward the bedroom.

His confidence is maddening, and you should protest—should at least pretend to fight back—but the way he looks at you, like he knows exactly what he's doing, has you melting into him.

Carlos smirks, his grip tightening slightly.

"Only when it means I get to hear you say my name like that again."

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

"Cocky."

His lips brush yours, teasing, playful.

"Only for you, cariño."

He sets you down onto the bed gently and carefully, and you slide further back, watching him pull at the hem of his shirt, dragging it across his chest, before he takes it off.

Licking your lips, you drink in the sight of him—his hairy bare chest, his taut muscles, strong arms, and tousled hair.

You run a hand across your chest, feeling your own heart racing, as he does the same, dragging his fingers across his damp skin, before resting on the ever-growing strain inside his tight shorts.

"All because of you," he muses, more to himself than to anyone else,

"You love that," you suppress a chuckle, watching him take his undergarments off as well.

"I do," he admits, running a hand through his hair before he climbs onto the bed, approaching you slowly, teasingly.

As soon as he's close enough, his lips find yours once more, and you melt into his kiss—deep, longing, demanding even.

You feel his hands everywhere, on your breast, your sides, and thighs, his fingers tugging, pulling, and clawing at the fabric of your clothes.

You stroke his chest when he lets out a low growl, the sound vibrating in his throat.

His fingers trace over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as you work together to shed the layers between you. Piece by piece, he removes your clothes, replacing them with longing, burning kisses that leave marks on your skin, and your heart yearns for more.

There is something intoxicating about the way he watches you, his dark eyes flickering with admiration and want. He takes his time, savoring every inch of bare skin revealed to him, his hands mapping you out as if he's memorizing every detail.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice softer now, reverent.

You cup his jaw, your thumb grazing the stubble that's grown in enough to roughen his otherwise soft kisses.

"You just like looking."

Carlos chuckles, low and deep.

"You have no idea."

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours, slow at first- like he's giving you the chance to set the pace. But you don't hesitate. You pull him closer, deepening the kiss, feeling the way he responds instantly, his body pressing against yours.

His warmth, his scent, the sheer presence of him—it surrounds you, consumes you. He moves with an effortless control, his hands steady yet gentle as they explore, as if he's savoring the moment as much as you are.

And when he finally slips inside you, it's seamless, like you were always meant to fit this way. A quiet gasp escapes your lips, swallowed instantly by his kiss, as he holds you close, his forehead pressing against yours.

You cling to him, fingers digging into his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath your hands flex with each movement. He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that's almost too tender compared to the intensity of everything else.

"Carlos," you whisper, his name slipping out without a thought.

He groans softly, tightening his grip on your hips.

"Say it again."

You do, and the way he responds—his breath hitching, his hold on you tightening—tells you just how much he loves hearing it this way.

Carlos' breath turns ragged against your skin, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate, as you chase the inevitable together.

His grip tightens yet again, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes locked on yours as if he refuses to let you slip away from this moment.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, voice thick, his lips brushing yours between gasps.

You hold on to him tighter, fingers digging into his back, your body arching into his as the tension builds impossibly high. It's overwhelming—the heat, the closeness, the way he knows exactly how to unravel you.

And then, all at once, the world tilts.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as the wave crashes over you, sending shivers down your spine.

Carlos follows right behind you, groaning your name like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. His grip tightens, his entire body tensing before he finally lets go, surrendering to the moment completely.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Your breaths mingle, fast and uneven, hearts racing in sync. Carlos rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Then, finally, he exhales a slow, contented sigh and shifts just enough to pull you against him, his arms wrapping securely around you.

"Dios mío," he breathes, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your shoulder. "You really do like testing me."

You manage a breathless laugh, your fingers tracing light circles against his back.

"And you really like proving a point."

Carlos chuckles, the sound low and warm, his fingers threading through your hair as he presses another kiss to your temple.

"Only when it comes to you."

You hum in response, already sinking into the comfort of his arms, your body melting against his.

He shifts slightly, pulling the covers over you before tucking you even closer against him. His fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back, his breathing steadying.

"Stay like this," he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost sleepy. "Just for a little while."

You smile against his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut.

"As long as you want."

Carlos tightens his hold on you, pressing one last kiss to your hair before finally letting himself relax completely.

[allfortheslay25]

Sorry to that one person who asked about more Milo in my inbox. The ask disappeared and has yet to come back after the draft refused to post so I’ll be posting it just like this.

Hopefully you see it🙏

I should probably mention I wrote this chapter years ago but only adjusted some things at the beginning of the year before January

Milo Future Spoilers

There was nothing like the humidity of South Carolina; damp, sweltering, and mouth drying.

Neil smacked his lips and wiped sweat off the back of his neck. No, nothing like it.

The press of something freezing was soothing for a split second before it was alerting. Neil flinched away from the cold glass bottle Andrew pushed against his neck before taking it.

"Thanks."

Andrew squatted next to him, picking under his armbands to collect the sweat building up under them. Neil stared because Neil liked this pair. A shade of white with the thinnest pair of double orange stripes down the inner forearm. Andrew didn't wear them for much. It didn't go with the silver and gold tone of his uniform nor the black of his wardrobe. He hadn't really put them on since Allison gifted them to him back in 2012.

Andrew took Neil's soda from him after watching the man do little to open the damn thing. He popped off the cap, licking the back before pressing it to Neil's forehead.

Neil quirked up a smile. "It's fresh."

Andrew just turned away with his own drink half done.

"Where the fuck is Nicky? It's boiling out here!" Allison shouted from where she was handing out drinks.

Aaron flicked cooler water at Matt when the man attempted to steal the last lemonade. "Probably got sidetracked talking about Germany again. He acts as if we haven't been caught up with him in the last week."

Kevin rattled the doors like a madman. "Let me in.

We're right here, let me in!"

It would have been hilarious, enough to bring smiles and teasing from the old Foxes. But recently, with Kevin's publicized relapse and his alleged divorce from Thea, well, no one was laughing at Kevin these days.

The outer court walls had seen better days too.

The orange paint had faded to a yellow hue, chipped and dusty with tagging unwashed at the corners. Neil knew the Palmetto Foxes had been on a fortunate rise and he knew sometime after his leave did it begin to fall apart. Wymack bit off more than he could chew, they said. Too many scandals, too many suicides and murders, too many delinquents being allowed on a court. But Neil supposes they did well enough to keep those doors open another year.

Neil's drink was promptly swiped from his hands, the culprit? His son, Milo.

"If you're not gonna drink it at least don't let it go hot."

Neil squinted up at the boy. He did that standing too. Milo had hit puberty and outgrew Neil sometime between 12 and 13, but then the growing never stopped. He stood now, at an even 6ft with no chance of finishing his growth spurt.

Lanky and awkward teenage limbs, freckled and messy haired, Milo somehow stopped looking like Neil. Everyone always says his baby face is nostalgic to first year Neil Josten, but if you put the pictures side by side, Milo always had something Neil didn't. There was a sharpness to him, something he couldn't hide better than Neil.

"Kevin, stop playing with the doors, you'll break them." Renee chastised. It was a miracle to have her here with them in the flesh at all. She spent most of their reunions on video chat with low internet. "I'm sure Coach will be here soon with the keys."

Milo, soda long finished, turned to Kevin with an otter pop between his teeth. "Does it bother you that much?" He mumbled.

Kevin let go of the doors with reluctance. "No... I just... I want to see it already."

Milo hummed around his treat before standing and marching over to the doors. He hip checked Kevin—an eerie sight as they stood head to head in height—and pulled something from his pocket.

Milo fiddled with the fence and it sprung open.

The Old Foxes stared in disbelief.

"You had the keys the whole time? Milo!" Dan said.

Milo shrugged, displaying a paperclip and a hairpin. He shoved the fence out the way and marched on to the doors he'd need a code for. As Milo fooled around with it, the Foxes all turned to Neil with faces of amusement and exasperation.

"He's your son alright." They said.

"Little Josten."

"Little Monster." They all cooed.

"That's 'Little Minyard-Josten' to you." Milo announced before punching a button on the door.

It beeped and clicked and Milo turned the handle to allow everyone inside.

"How did you know the code!?" Kevin wondered.

"They just had a baby, no?" Milo pointed out. "It's always been someone's birthday."

The foyer was almost the same as they'd all last seen it. Orange benches were set here and there, and the floor was white tile with orange paw prints. Orange cones were stacked in a corner, three deep and six high. A white door was on the wall to their right, and an orange door was opposite them. Only difference was there was a crack in the wall no one patched up, and the white tiles had muddled down to a moppy grey.

Milo moved past it to the gear closet. As the Old Foxes looked around and chatted about memories a decade old, Milo had suited up and stolen a racquet.

"Should we let him keep doing that?" Allison muttered to the rest.

"Leave him be, this is the most excited we've seen him since before the B R E A K U P call." Dan whispered.

"You know he can spell faster than us, right?"

Aaron whispered back.

"And you know you're a bad whisperer, right?"

Matt countered.

"Cousins!" Anything Aaron was about to say was cut off by Nicky's loud arrival. He raced towards Aaron and Andrew, bringing them into tight squeezes despite the twos wriggling.

Neil smiled because it'd been three years since Andrew had told Nicky he could hug him without asking. Andrew sometimes snapped that he was sick of it, but Andrew had also told Neil years ago that he didn't do regret.

Nicky let out a sharp gasp from his position in hugging Neil. He all but shoved the man into Matt before springing himself onto Milo. "My baby nephew! You've gotten so big! Last time I saw you you were definitely a head shorter! What are they feeding you? Is it Kevin's diet?"

Milo smiled and hugged Nicky as hard as he could despite the pads. "A mix of junk food and Kevin's dietary plan I only follow when I'm bored."

Kevin sent him a glare for that but went back to finding proper gear without a word.

"How did any of you get inside?" Wymack wondered gruffly. Standing in the flesh, was their beloved coach who hadn't seemed to age a day in their eyes. The only thing new was the baby attached to his chest.

Everyone flooded his space in an instant, cooing and awing at the little infant with orange bows in her curly hair. It was a shame Kevin had to be the one to tell them Wymack and Abby were having a baby. He was too excited to remember they wanted to surprise everyone. Sarah was adopted by them as soon as she'd been born, the baby of a previous Fox who didn't want children. None of them knew her from anything other than the tabloids that printed her face everywhere on Exy news the week after her discharge from the hospital. She dropped out of Palmetto soon after and was in the wind before Wymack and Abby could say goodbye.

"Okay you animals, get your diseased faces out of my baby's face. And Kevin, get your face out that closet and hug me dammit."

Kevin paused from where he was pulling a pair of gloves out of the gear closet to sheepishly shuffle over to his father.

"Where's Abby?" Kevin asked as he smiled at

Sarah's squinty face.

"Napping. She wanted to come by but I told her we'd be here all day and she can stop by when she's had at least an hour of sleep." Wymack said.

He tossed the court keys at Neil who used them to unlock all of the doors inside.

Before anyone finished dressing, Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau knocked on the locker room doors. This reunion was special, a chance for Jean to see Renee, and Jeremy to see Kevin in an act of support in these dire times.

Having so many professional exy stars in one room felt charged in a way. Kevin seemed ready to cream his pants, or so Andrew commented.

Jeremy looked good in orange and Jean looked like he'd rather do the scrimmage naked. But Neil only had eyes for Andrew whose old uniform stretched on him like a wet dream.

"Can you even play like that?" Aaron smirked, silently laughing at Andrew's predicament. Aaron hadn't been on his college grind in so long, he'd lost muscle mass but gained a healthy weight that his uniform fit almost perfectly.

Andrew silently knocked Aaron on the shoulder with his racquet and clicked his tongue at the weight of it. Neil understood the feeling. Their old racquets were like feathers, Neil wasn't sure he could play with something so lightweight.

Milo was setting up cones and baskets of exy balls with cheerfulness. He was running around the court with a giddiness that rubbed off onto everyone else.

"Don't forget to stretch," Kevin reminded him.

Milo turned and threw his body into a bridge position before resting into a handstand.

"Show off." Kevin grumbled as Jeremy laughed.

Milo properly stretched afterward, first to finish as he picked up the basket of exy balls.

"I wanna show you something. Miss Renee, may you take the goal for me?" Milo asked.

“My pleasure,” Renee said with a smile. She gave Andrew a friendly pat on the shoulder and took her place in the goal.

“We don’t have all day, Milo.” Kevin complained.

“Let him do what he wants, it’s his first game playing with us.” Dan said.

“My first game playing with you guys was actually in the morning of July 14th, 2006. It was my ‘Unbirthday’ as uncle Nicky put it and Matt knocked me onto my back.” Milo said as he got into position.

“You can’t count that as a real game.” Kevin said.

Milo smiled over his shoulder, one of the ones that made the Foxes refer to him as ‘Little Monster’ at times. “Shut up, Day, and watch this.”

He looked back at Renee who nodded at him and got into position. The stance was loose but almost as sturdy as it’d been all those years ago. Milo took up a ball and tossed it to her lightly, allowing her to hit it back far enough he’d have to chase it down the court. And Milo did. He didn’t want to see where it was headed. With bullet-like speed he took off, throwing himself from the wall, flying down the court before anyone could do much as turn their heads. The ball hit a far wall and came back. Milo jumped, snatching it from the air and landing on his left foot before propelling himself forward. He made light work of the cones and within 10 steps, scored on Renee. Neil didn’t know why but when Milo had taken the ball, he waited for a pass to someone who wasn’t there. It itched at his brain in a familiarity he couldn’t place.

Andrew narrowed his eyes before his mouth quirked into one of his amused expressions.

“What?” Neil wondered a little too loud.

“He’s just doing the most for no reason.” Kevin interrupted.

“He just mimicked Neil’s exact play his first time at a Fox match.” Andrew corrected.

Everyone turned to him in confusion.

Neil looked back, running it through his head but that game had been so long ago he didn’t remember.

Dan's eyes lit up, though. “He passed to me. Neil, you did that same jump thing your first game—back when Seth was taken off and you made your debut. You passed to me because someone was on your ass.”

“There’s no way. We can’t even remember it clearly. No one can say for sure.” Allison said.

Andrew tapped his temple. “I can. Memory like a steel trap, I never took my eyes off him. I’m the one who passed the ball to Neil.”

“It’s a fluke.” Kevin said.

Milo whistled at them to get everyone’s attention. “I’m not finished.” He tossed another ball to Renee. “I’ll call it for you this time; Seth Gordon 2006.” Milo changed the grip on his racquet, hands lower as his fingers gesture higher. He straightened his back and ran a few seconds after the ball flew, watching it with his eyes and racing at a slower yet more desperate pace. Once he’d caught it, he whipped it over his shoulder with such speed and strength, it nearly clipped Renee on the shoulder.

“There’s no way to guarantee that.” Kevin hissed.

Milo tossed another ball and cocked his head at Kevin. “Really? Let’s get more famous. Let’s see…” Milo tapped the button of his racquet against the floor and passed his stick to his left hand and the movement was so specific, Jean and the Foxes straightened in disbelief. “Kevin Day, 2007.” Milo called, once again changing his posture. The ball went and Milo moved, catching it and weaving around cones with such single mindedness it was breathtaking. Renee was serious now as she waited, eager to stop Milo but incapable of accomplishing it. The ball whistled past her ear and the Foxes roared in incredulous excitement.

“Join me, will you, Mister Knox?” Milo asked.

Jeremy smirked and followed onto the court. He attempted to take up a backliner position but Milo moved him into the striker mark. He passed a ball to Jeremy and motioned for him to continue. The Foxes readied for whatever trick Milo held up his sleeve next. He moved his racquet back to his right and hunched his shoulders a bit in a way that left him open for injury. Jeremy moved to get past him and Milo hooked his foot around his and sent him stumbling. Milo then yanked his stick out of his unassuming hands with a simple twist, stealing the ball and sending it across the court to be slammed into the goal wall.

“Jean Moreau, 2005.” Milo said. Jeremy was on his ass behind him, clutching his wrist in surprise.

“That was a dirty move. I had so much faith in you.”

Milo gave him his racquet, using it to pull Jeremy to his feet. “You were expecting Jean-Yvves Moreau, 2009. But I like surprises.”

Jean frowned from his place by the Foxes. “That move is long dead. You can hurt someone with it.”

Milo held up Jeremy’s arm by the elbow, waving it at Jean. “He’s all in one piece. Now I’ve got something special for you all. Get on the court, Miss Renee, Drew, you may wait for my last demonstration off to the side.

As they all took their marks, not for a scrimmage but for shooting on the goal, Milo sauntered onto Renee’s place, tossing his racquet for hers. He spun it around and moved his hands before crouching and staring them down the court. Even with the helmet over his eyes, there was an intensity that boiled the cool air into something claustrophobic to the group. No one had to guess who Milo was mimicking now, but he still called out to them.

“Andrew Minyard, 2016.”

Neil got first dibs as he was the first to line up. He moved past Nicky and shot at the goal with a ferocity he saved for real matches. The deafening crack that boomed through the space as Milo’s racquet connected with the ball made everyone flinch in their spots. The ball sailed through the air like a jet before smacking into the other goal.

“There’s no way you did that!” Nicky screamed.

“That’s Andrew’s move. Do you know how many goalies have attempted to replicate that and succeeded?” Kevin shouted. “Eight! Only six have accomplished it in all exy history!”

“Seven, counting me.” Milo said, tossing the racquet over his shoulder. “But if I’m truly honest, I wouldn’t be able to do it again as accurately. Especially during an intense game. I’ve practiced your moves since I could hold a racquet and I've mastered your techniques in less years than you’ve all been playing. But Drew’s moves are special.”

Kevin was still staring at the ball across the court. “We need that tape. Get us that tape. You’ll need to show it to recruiters—”

“Slow down, Kevin.” Jeremy said.

“You’re turning red.” Jean said.

Kevin seemed close to fainting. When he’d had some water and Wymack promised to send him the security tape, they all got their chance to shoot on Milo who didn’t allow a single one through. After the showboating, they played a real scrimmage. Whoever won got to play with Milo next and even as Kevin lost thrice in a row, he never stopped his giddy chatter about the places Milo would go and the changes he’d bring to the sport.

[reverie-starlight]

THE BOY HAS RETURNED!!! how I managed to go 5 months without writing for him I will never know. anyway, here’s some atsumu fluff to heal my soul after finishing my last assignment last week and more recently a rough few days of back-to-back exams.

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. university student!reader, MSBY!atsumu. very fluffy, ultra sappy. y’all know the drill. uhhhh very suggestive towards the end. this is very short bc I'm slowly trying to get back into writing after a creative block. I've missed him SO much, you have no idea :(

you reach your arms above your head and hiss at the dull pain that follows your much needed stretch. slumping back down into your chair, you sigh and allow yourself a moment to take in the fact that you can actually relax for the next day or two, completely guilt free.

you shut your laptop and make your way over to the bedroom, eager to finally crawl into atsumu’s arms. you feel bad for him- you’ve been so busy with your assignments and finals lately that you’ve hardly been able to spend any quality time with him.

he’s been a good sport about it of course- he knows how important your education is, but you also know extremely well how much of a dramatic little shit he can be sometimes.

sure enough, as soon as he sees your figure in the doorway, he turns to face the wall and leaves you with the very familiar, beloved view of his back.

but you miss him, and you'll be damned if you don't get any congratulatory cuddles from him tonight, even if you have to fight for them.

you grin a little and slide under the covers behind him, tracing a finger along his broad shoulders.

“baby,” you make sure to drag out the last syllable. you press a kiss to the nape of his neck and smile against his skin when he shudders. “you’re really going to ignore me?”

he doesn’t answer just yet, but you can feel his resolve (which clearly isn't the strongest in this moment) breaking with every kiss you press down his spine, along his shoulder blades, the backs of his arms…

until he finally caves and turns to you with that lovesick grin you adore so much. he wraps his arms around your waist and you realize just how much you've been missing him.

"are ya finally done?" his eyes shine with hope and your heart squeezes in your chest.

you nod and he pulls you closer so that you're face-to-face, breaths mingling and lips barely touching. his skin, always so warm and soft, smells of fresh laundry and his breath has hints of the minty toothpaste your dentist recommended. you burrow against his neck and release the last of your worries with one big sigh.

and in typical atsumu fashion, as if he's just received an encoded message, he kisses your temple to let you know he's got you. "I'm proud of ya," he mumbles. "I know this was a tough semester for ya, baby, but you're gonna finish off strong."

you melt against him, let your shoulders relax and allow yourself the mental break that is letting him take care of you. "thank you," you whisper. "I'm just so glad I have a few days to rest now."

the energy of the room shifts with atsumu as he moves to hover your frame. the calluses on his hand from years of athletics are rough against the cheek he cups but comforting all the same. the look in his eyes is familiar and makes you a little dizzy with need.

"since you've got nothin' going on tomorrow..." your eyes stay trained on him as he turns his head to check the clock on your nightstand. "that means ya can afford to stay up a bit longer?"

you nod, not even bothering to check the time for yourself, welcoming him with a small smile when his eyes find their way back home to you. "that's right."

he grins and leans down to finally, finally, finally slot his lips against yours, right where they belong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[callme-holly]

Can u do a little thing with Steve where reader is soc-y and likes to dress up and she visits him while he's working and he wants to hug and kiss her but his hands are covered in grease and she doesn't wanna get her dress dirty and hilarity ensues

(Sorry, I'm half asleep rn)

𝐈𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 [𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: sorry y'all i finally got the motivation (and the chance) to write! might be a bit slow and patchy. i've got exams for three weeks LOL

The garage is filled with it’s usual noise when you arrive, the clattering of tools and the droning static of the busted radio filling the grimy space. The strong scent of oil permeates the air, rich and sickening, so strong it makes your head spin the second you step into the space; you’d think you’d be used to it by now, immune to it’s thick smell, but it still makes your stomach churn each time you breathe in. 

There's a car parked in the middle, jacked up on one side, and you easily spot Steve lying under it; he’s deep in work, entirely oblivious to your presence, humming idly along to the radio. It’s like a breath of fresh air seeing him like this, entirely in his element and away from the chaos just beyond the confines of the DX. There are no social expectations in here, no judgment trying to wriggle it’s way inside, and no reason to worry… 

Your heels click on the paved floor as you walk further in, trying your hardest not to brush against anything, dreading the idea of dirtying the freshly pressed material. It was a ridiculous thing to do, really, to walk in here dressed up like you’re going to some fancy party; grease and oil coat almost every surface, and the risk of you staining the fabric is so high it makes your head spin with dread. 

“Steve,” you call gently, your voice light and airy, carrying through the room, over the radio. You almost think he doesn’t hear you, and you wrap your arms around your middle, readying to call him again when he drags himself out from under the vehicle, smearing his hands down his jeans.

“What’s up, baby…” he trails off, steely eyes roaming over your figure amourously. You notice him swallowing thickly, and a wave of satisfaction washes over you at the look of awe written across his features. You’ve rendered him completely speechless. 

You tilt your head slightly, hair spilling over your shoulder in gentle waves, like a waterfall flowing steadily over rocks.

“You okay, tough guy?” The smile tugging at your lips gives you away entirely, and you know what you’re doing; that much is clear to anyone.

Steve pushes himself up slowly, his eyes still not leaving you as he takes in every indelible detail, engraving it into his memory.

“You look good,” he chokes out, voice barely above a whisper. “Like, really good.”

He steps towards you, arms outstretched, about to wind around you middle as they always do, but you’re quick to jump back, a startled gasp leaving you.

“No! You can.” You say quickly, eyeing the oil staining his skin. “You’re dirty.”

Steve cocks a brow, looking down at himself and then back up at you. “So? That’s never bothered you before. I thought you liked me dirty?”

Usually, you’d hit his chest for that, scold him for making such a crude insinuation, but it’s far too dangerous to even think about getting near him, so you keep your distance, staying as close to the wall as you dare get.

“You’ll stain the material!” You argue, gesturing to the flowing fabric with a small pout. “It’s too nice for your greasy hands to ruin.” 

Steve huffs a laugh, stepping towards you once more, a teasing glint shining in his eyes. “Oh really? So you show up here looking like that and expect me not to touch?” 

“Yes!” Your tone is filled with exasperation, and he looks surprised at that. He opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out, the words getting caught in his throat.

He wipes his hands over his jeans again, almost as if that’s going to get rid of the stains coating every other part of him.

“Better?” He glances up at you expectantly, his eyes alight with hope, and you almost feel guilty for pushing him back. Almost. You give him a once-over; the corners of your lips pull up slightly, and you shake your head. "Not even close." 

Without another word, you grab a rag from the battered workbench behind you, it's legs leaning slightly and the wood chipped—and step towards him. With a tender hand, you cup the side of his face, bringing the rag up and wiping at the smudge of oil on his brow. Its smears paint his skin, and you scrub a little harder, not missing the way he watches you fondly, his eyes holding a subtle sense of adoration behind the layer of  coolness.

You tilt his face to the side, about to work on his jaw, when his hands settle on your hips, thumbs drawing lazy circles against your dress.

"Steve!" You gasp suddenly, dropping your hands to rest on his chest; you don't pull back, though. Despite your worries about him dirtying your clothes, you don't push him away; you can't . "You idiot..." You whisper, and he simply flashes you a grin in response, leaning in to capture your lips.

And this time, you don't resist. 

[jupiter-esque]

Hi!!! I saw that you write for Howls and I was wondering if we could get some hcs in how his so cares for him? Whether that be after a tough day physically or mentally or silly pampering him. How does Howl want and receive his comfort?

Preen

note: sort of went on an unofficial hiatus lol, but im finally on holiday yippee :)))) anyway i'm sure I've done this sort of request or smth before but I just love howl so much, he deserves all the love mwah <3

Warnings: nthn, just clingy howl and lots of sickening fluff.:3

Howl Pendragon x reader

It feels like the exhaustion is trying to imbed itself within his bones.

Howl struggles past the front door, His feet dragging as the castle door close with a resounding ding! signaling a new and hopefully much more calming scenery outside. He can't think of that now though.

bed, sleep, rest..now...

he could topple over at any moment.

The aroma of hot savory onion soup overtook his senses, he could almost feel the heady warmth of the liquid down his throat, burning away the worries and hardships of the day leaving him sated and drowsy. He could barely wait.

"Oh no you don't." Suddenly, soup didn't seem all that important.

Nimble fingers slip past his shoulders, pushing away his coat and fussing with its buttons. Howl's eyes landed on you blearily as he called out your name dreamily while reaching for you, his fingers smoothing out over any exposed skin he could reach and nuzzling into your blushing neck.

"Missed you." He mumbles quietly, his breath tickling you slightly. He pulled you in tighter as if trying to carve himself into you, trying to mold your bodies and souls into one. Too bad your offending apron and clothes prevented him.

"Poor baby." You coo as you brush through his hair, fingers carding through messily strewn strands and pressing into worn out muscles. "Okay time for a bath, then dinner."

"Nooo diner-"

"No, c'mere." You grinned with an air of finality, ushering him up the stairs ensuring he doesn't try flopping onto the cushy sofas in front of a grumbling calcifer, you're too used to his tricks and it comforts him to fall into your familiar routine. You sneak some more wood to the fire demon, a silent promise from his side to keep the thick onion soup bubbling and the bathtub upstairs equally toasty.

************************

Howl's staring into the soapy water, helplessly letting you wash his hair and scrub the grime off his skin, occasionally he plays with your free hand. you're both so very naked, so very vulnerable yet peacefully cleaning and gently caring for each other. A silly smile overtakes his lips as he remembers his flirtatious attempt for more...unorthodox intentions while you rolled your eyes and cheekily pushed him into the tub.

It should feel like a snug fit in the tub but magic has its perks and you're both settled into a pool of bubbles that would comfortably fit around three to four people. Howl shivers once more while you splashed water onto his richly dark hair. It hung limply over his eyes as you rubbed his back and pressed deliciously into his taught tendons, it took everything in him to not wantonly moan into your ear so he only let soft ragged breaths escape him as he gripped at your palms where you were sat behind him.

He could feel your smirk. You truly were his undoing.

Just as howl was about to let his eyes fall close and sleep to overtake him you pushed at his shoulders and complained loudly.

"Bath time is over you big oaf, get off i cant breath!"

Howl immediately saw his opening to tease you.

"I don’t know” He airly replied, slumping further into you while pretending to sleep and become dead-weight on top of your struggling form “It’s so comfortable here, I could just rest for a while~”

“Howl.” You warned.

“You wouldn’t mind right?”

You tugged at his hair with slight harshness

“Ouch!”

“Out! You’re clean. Now stop pouting.”

************************

Finally in fresh night-clothes, bellies full of soup and crunchy buttery toast, you're longing for sleep but the need to be in each others presence is stronger so you move to the living room in front of calcifer's hearth as he grumbles away about how much work he does around the castle. Howl shushes him with more firewood while you tuck little Markle to bed, before returning to cuddle up on the loveseat with a blanket wrapped round to stay cozy.

Eventually you find yourself preening through Howl's nearly-dry hair again whilst he settles his head against your chest and the rest of his body lays between your open thighs with his back facing you. All is quiet for a moment, only calcifer's crackling and your calming breaths fill the room as you rub at his scalp and untangle stray locks when a thought strikes you.

"Howl, dear."

"Hmm?" He hums tiredly letting one eye open.

"You know, you're a lot like a bird." You put a finger over his lips before he starts scowling about his more beastly raven-like form " In the sense that you always like your hair played with, a lot like how birds like their feathers preened. Especially by their bird partner."

You smiled down at him openly, he couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh? So that makes you my bird partner now, doesn't it?" He had one eyebrow raised while peeking up at you.

"Of course." You grinned, playing along.

"We'd make wonderful Swans then." He said with a serious expression.

"Why is that?" You blinked curiously, wondering why he was reaching closer for your face.

"Because they mate for life.''

and he followed his silent promise with a deep kiss.

BONUS:

“You know, I think you’d make for a wonderful peacock instead. Show off.” You muttered

“Quiet now, you love me.”

:))))

[miniimight]

Hellooo! Could you please write for the boys where the reader is sick but doesn't tell them bcs she doesn't wanna bother them?? I love your your blog sm 💙💙

HIDING YOUR SICKNESS ! reader doesn't wanna bother her boyfriend

with izuku, bakugo, rody + fem!reader (pro hero era)

notes thanks for the request anon !!

you: hey i don't think i can make our date tonight... i'm sorry, something came up

he frowned when he got the text. he pinched the bridge of his nose and his overthinking kicked in. you'd been distancing yourself a lot recently... between you spending all your time at someone else's place, having to postpone dates, and his hero work, you barely got to see each other.

he was worried. he pressed the call button and waited for you to pick up.

IZUKU

"hello? y/n?"

you folded from the concern in his voice. he was always going to be worried about you, no matter what you tried to do.

"izuku..." you rasped and you could tell he was taken aback.

"what's wrong, honey?" he said softly. "you don't sound too good..."

you bit your lip. oh, what the hell. he was going to find out anyway. "i'm just a little sick, that's all. i can handle—"

"sick?!" izuku exclaimed and you shied away from his volume. "my love, you should have told me."

"no, it's really okay—"

"how long have you felt this way? is this why you've been postponing our dates? where are you right now?" he ignored your protests and rambled on with more questions for a bit. you weakly answered them all.

"okay, sweetheart, i'm on my way." you could hear him huffing as you assumed he leapt across rooftops. "stay on call..."

a burden was lifted off your shoulders, and the relief made you fall asleep right then and there.

later—though how much later, you didn't know—you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. groaning, you stretched your arms and propped your body up with your elbows.

"oh, you're awake. lay down, love."

you tuned into izuku's voice, squinting through your daze. he was sitting at your bedside, a wet rag in his hand. he shushed you when you tried to ask him all your questions, gently laying the rag across your forehead and kissing your heated cheek.

"you had a fever, honey." izuku hummed, pulling the chair closer to the bed and leaning over the side. "you shouldn't have been under all those stuffy blankets."

you frowned and looked around. the windows were open, the curtains flowing as fresh air filtered in. it was true, you did feel a little less suffocated.

you pursed your lips, feeling guilty. "i'm sorry."

he was absolutely bewildered. "what could you possibly be sorry for?"

you sniffed, rubbing your eyes. "you were at work, right? and..."

izuku softened, stroking your temples with understanding. "it's never an issue for me to take care of you, love. don't be sad. just relax and let me handle everything, okay? i'm here now, to take care of you."

BAKUGO

"where are you and why have you been avoiding my calls?"

you pressed your lips into a thin line. straight to the point, as usual. "i'm... i'm staying at a friend's for the time being." you tried to speak evenly, without any tiredness.

you heard bakugo sigh deeply. "what's the matter, baby? and don't think about hidin' anything from me."

you groaned internally, letting your head drop against the mattress. you mumbled.

"what was that?"

you flared up, heat overwhelming your body. "i'm sick! okay?! i'm so sick right now."

he didn't respond.

you sighed. "i didn't want you to catch anything or worry about it. i can handle it and i'll be back in no time."

he scoffed. "fuck that. i'm coming to get you."

"kat, really—?!"

"yes, really!" you heard faint explosions in the background. "seriously, thinking you can recover on your own when you can't even speak properly." he chuckled.

you wanted to retort, but your throat burned. hmph, you thought. you let yourself drift asleep, feeling comforted.

later, you woke up in his bed to the sound of clanking pots in the kitchen. brows furrowed, you groaned as you stretched, your body buzzing after you let yourself drop into the plush mattress once more.

bakugo peeked into the room. "you're up. good. you need to eat." with an apron on, he placed an assortment of dishes in front of you; soup, fruits, and some cough drops for later.

you sat up a little, startled when his hand pressed against your forehead.

"you have a fever." he shook his head, disappointed. "you probably made it a little worse, isolating yourself under all those sheets. you were overheated when i got you."

you pouted, taking a sip of water.

he craned his neck to meet your eyes, thinking you'd be relieved being home and in his care. you clearly had something on your mind. "baby..." he held your hand. "jus' tell me what's on your mind."

you met his eyes briefly before looking away. "i... didn't want you to miss work for this."

"this matters more than paperwork." he rolled his eyes, a soft smile on his face. he squeezed your hands. "just eat up and rest up. i'll handle everything else."

RODY

"y/n?"

"nope!" his little sister, lala, chirped. "it's me!"

during his last layover, he hadn't been getting much of a response from you. he trusted you with everything, but he was worried. now that he was back in otheon, he was ready to figure out what the hell was going on.

he chuckled at his sister. you must've given her your phone to play her favorite game. "hey, lala. where's y/n, do you know?"

"she's sleeping now." rody could hear her breathing as she pattered over to where he assumed you were laying down. "sleeping like a log."

"yeah?" rody responded, deep in thought. it wasn't like you to sleep while looking after his siblings, so he knew something was wrong. "what was she doing before she fell asleep?"

"uhhh... she made lunch for us?" lala sniffed. "i feel bad, though."

rody's eyebrows creased, tugging a suitcase behind him as he unconsciously walked faster. "why's that?"

"she's got a mask on, and she doesn't want us too close to her..." lala sighed. "and she's burning up."

rody put the pieces together. he raced to the carpark and zoomed on home, bursting through the door.

the loud noise startled you out of your slumber, sitting upright. the abrupt motion made you dizzy and you groaned. lala pat your shoulder, concerned.

rody dropped his suitcase to the ground, kneeling at your side. slipping off his gloves, he pressed his hand to the side of your neck.

"seriously, babe, you should've told me when you started feeling off." he frowned, bustling about to grab you the things you needed. "i could've left any time."

your eyes were glassy when you looked at him, and he felt his heart twisting. "m'sorry," you mumbled from behind the mask. "i didn't want to bother you..."

he scoffed and pulled the mask off your face, squishing your cheeks. he looked you square in the eye. though he was scolding you, he was so soft and gently. "you never bother me. all i think about is you, lala, and roro. i want to know everything you're feeling, no matter what."

you smiled, looking lopsided as your face was still in his hands. "okay."

he grinned and kissed you.

"ugh!" you recoiled, scooching away from him. "rody! you'll get sick!"

he crossed his arms, smiling. "and? we can be in that boat together."

you rolled your eyes. "oh my god."

"aw, don't be like that, baby." rody cuddled up next to you, peppering you with affection. "come on, let me take care of you."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[sturnsdarling]

boyfriend

{insp by @sturnioz au} smartand'mean'!reader goes to one of fratboy!matt's freshers parties, and has a run in with a boy that doesn't end well.

vibe check: violence, angsty vibes, nasty frat boy grabs reader by the face, fluff, protective!matt, aggressive!reader, descriptions of blood and fighting etc, smoking

1.3k words

A/N: this idea is based on this post that I saw. literally foaming at the mouth over this dude, they are THEM. also can you tell i have a thing for boys who will beat people up for you? yeah.

love and cigs, merc

The music was thumping against your skull, crowds of people around you as you moved your way through the party. Matt had called you about ten minutes ago, drunkenly telling you that he missed you and needed to see you, and after a good five minutes of calling him cringe and bullying him lovingly, you made your way to the house.

It was freshers week, so there was party every night at Matts frat, hoards of new, fresh eyed faces just waiting to be corrupted by the imfamous Sturniolo frat. It was awful, and not your scene at all, but part of being Matt's girl was participating in frat culture, even the bits you hated.

"hey, sexy, where you goin?" speaking of things you hated...a wide eyed fresher grabbed your wrist, pulling your attention away from the entrance to the kitchen.

You turned back to face the boy, brows furrowed in disgust, "not interested, dude, fuck off" you spat, pulling your wrist from his grip and attempting to walk away.

He was relentless, and shuffled after you, quickly stepping in your path and blocking your view of the kitchen. He cooed, grabbing your hands in his.

"don't be like that, baby, you're too pretty to be mean" He said, peppering touches up and down your arm.

you squirmed, pushing him off you with a groan, "I said, I'm not fuckin' interested" you repeated yourself as he stumbled backwards.

The boy chuckled, pressing his tongue to his teeth as a white hot rage of rejection washed over him. He came forward, grabbing your face in his fingers and squishing your cheeks together, his face inches from yours. Your hand came to his wrist immediately, trying to pry his gross fingers from your face.

"you fuckin' bitch, think you can touch me? embarrass me in front of everyone, no wonder you're here alone" He said, his breath hot on your face.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Matt, charging through the crowds of people to get to you. A smug smile formed on your squished face as you looked back to the pig in your eye line, "actually, asshole, I'm here to see my boyfriend" you said, words muffled through your teeth.

"boyfriend, huh? who's that then?" The boy chuckled.

"me" Matt spat from behind the boy, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and pulling him down onto the floor with brute force.

Before he could even attempt to get up and fight back, Matt was holding him by his collar just above the floor, feet on either side of his hips, pummelling down into him, mercilessly clocking him across the jaw over and over again. The boys blood was splattered across the hard wood floor, and everyone at the party had formed a circle around the three of you.

You took a few steps back, shaking the feeling of disgust out your brain as you felt two large hands grab you by the shoulders from behind. You flinched, but as you turned, you were met with the deadpan face, but concerned eyes of Chris.

"you okay, kid?" He said, nodding slightly.

you nodded in response, "I'm alright" you said, following his movement as he ushered you behind him.

Matt was still going, he had lifted the boy up by his shirt, holding him inches from his face, "not so big now, are ya? puttin' your hands on my fuckin girl-" Matt was cut off by a swift punch to the face from the boy, the whole crowd reacting in sync

You inched forward instinctively, but Chris held an arm out to stop you, shaking his head, you reluctantly listened and stayed put.

Matt laughed, blood pooling out his nose and down into his mouth. Matt moved his hands up to the back of the boys head, raised his leg at an angle, and cracked the bridge of his nose off the corner of his knee.

The boy hit the floor with a thud, and was out cold almost immediately. Matt didn't stop, he laid a swift kick into the boys rib cage, and spat the pooled blood in his mouth down at the limp freshers body. The whole room was silent, the only sound being the heavy breaths of Matt, and a few small whispers about how insane he is.

"fuckin' freak" he said through gritted teeth,

Matt looked up from the boy and took in the sight around him, the entire party all gawking at him like he was a derranged animal. His eyes found yours instantly, a wave of relief washing over him as he saw you stood with Chris.

"take this as a warning to everyone in this fuckin' house" Matt yelled, turning as he spoke, "that girl..." he pointed to you with his ring covered, bloodied hand, "is mine... and if you touch her...well" he paused, looking down to the boy who was just about gaining consciousness on the floor. Matt grinned, baring his bloodied teeth to the room and gesturing with his arm down to the boy.

You moved out from next to Chris and strode over to Matt, wrapping your arms round his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. His hands found your face immediately, pulling you deeper into him as he ignored the burning pain of your face pressed against his bleeding nose, your warm kiss acting as a soothing balm to his burning anger.

you and Matt were on the curb, after being instructed by Chris to go cool off.

Matt took a long drag of his cigarette, dried blood covering the bottom half of his face as his bruised knuckles bent on their hinges, his long, slender fingers holding the straight between them. You were leant on his shoulder, a cigarette hanging from your lips as you attempted to decompress.

"they all think you're insane now" you muttered.

Matt chuckled in response, shaking his head, "I don't give a fuck what they think", he turned to look down at you.

you shifted your head on his shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes, "do you think i'm insane?" Matt asked with a cocked brow.

you smiled, laughing softly, "yeah" Matts eyes widened slightly as he toked his cig, "but I like it" you added, leaning up to him as he pulled the straight from his mouth.

You captured his lips in a kiss, his cigarette smoke filling your mouth as you pressed your tongue against his. He let out a small groan, mostly of pain but also of pleasure, reeling in the way your mouth felt against his. You pulled away with a breathy chuckle, keeping his eye contact as you took a drag of your cig.

His eyes flitted between yours, slightly bloodshot and fluttery. You couldn't help but smile, he was so beautiful, even (especially) with a split nose and bloodied face.

"so" he grinned menacingly, "boyfriend, huh?" his tone was teasing, but his heart did a little flutter as he spoke the word.

You smiled and rolled your eyes, looking away from him, "you're ridiculous"

"you're the one that said it, not me" Matt taunted, watching your side profile as it was illuminated by the butt of your cigarette, refusing to indulge him in the satisfaction.

You were so beautiful, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and he meant what he said at the party and a thousand times before, you were his.

"hey" Matt said, placing a finger under your chin and moving your face to lock eyes with him, "I can be your boyfriend" Matt smirked, his words soft, "if you'll let me"

A small smile formed on your face, your eyes flitting between his in a triangle between his lips and piercing blue iris', you bit down on your bottom lip, "okay" you nodded slightly.

"yeah?" Matt beamed, raising his brows slightly.

"yeah" you nodded, smiling from ear to ear.

Matts eyes fell to your lips and in an instant, your mouth was pressed against his once more. Your tongues pressing and pushing against one-another's desperately as he pulled you up and onto his lap.

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