#i even have a caught in a mirror shirt lying around

[und3ad-3mo-girrrl]

i would be nothing without her btw

[fratttymatty]

A New Type Of Art

(All characters are 18+)

Luke had always been the kind of guy who didn’t fit into a mold, and he liked it that way. He was an artsy, liberal college sophomore who spent more time with his paintbrush than his textbooks, more time discussing philosophy than politics. His long, blonde hair was usually in a messy shoulder-length style, a reflection of his creative, laid-back personality. People often joked that he looked like he’d stepped out of a 90s indie film, and he was fine with that.

He was proud of who he was—gay, unapologetic, and fiercely liberal. His friends in the dorm loved him for his passion, his endless debates on everything from climate change to gender fluidity. He wore the brightest colors he could find, mismatched patterns, and unashamedly displayed his individuality through his clothes. He didn’t care if people stared—he wanted them to. Being different was his art.

Luke was someone who lived openly. He was out, loud, and proud. He believed in change, in equality, in breaking barriers. But then something strange happened that would turn his world upside down.

It started when he wandered into the obscure little gallery downtown. The art was... different. No, it wasn’t just different—it was weird, unsettling even. All the paintings were of men—clean-cut, athletic, stoic figures that seemed too perfect, too polished, as if they were all carved out of the same mold. They stared down from their frames with proud, almost smug expressions.

Luke felt a tug of unease, but his curiosity got the better of him. He walked deeper into the exhibit, looking for something new, something that would spark his imagination. But what he found was something far more unsettling.

The curator, a sharply dressed man with cold eyes, suddenly appeared at his side.

"You’re not from around here, are you?" the man asked, his voice smooth, almost hypnotic.

Luke didn’t know how to answer. “I just came to see the art,” he said, glancing at the paintings again, the faces of the men still haunting him.

The curator smiled faintly. “Art is not just for seeing, my friend. It’s for becoming.”

Before Luke could ask what he meant, the curator’s hand landed on his shoulder. And everything changed.

Luke awoke with a start, his heart racing. The room was unfamiliar. The air smelled different—stale, almost like rubber or plastic. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the sudden dizziness that had overtaken him. His mind was foggy, his thoughts spinning like a broken record.

He glanced around. The walls were bare except for a few sports posters—one of a football team, another of a group of athletes holding up trophies. A large computer sat on a desk, the screen blank but sleek, high-tech. The bed he was lying on was too small, too clean.

Then, something caught his eye—a full-length mirror on the wall. He stumbled over to it, his feet feeling heavier than usual.

The reflection staring back at him was... not Luke.

It was a completely different person. His face—his features—were different. His once soft jawline was now square, his cheekbones high and pronounced. His blonde hair was gone, replaced by a rich, dark brown mane that was tousled perfectly, messy but in a way that looked effortlessly stylish. It was a little wavy, but in a way that made him look... well, hot.

The messiness of his hair gave him a rugged appeal, like he’d just rolled out of bed after a late-night party or a spontaneous game of pick-up basketball. His chest was broad, and his body had more definition—muscles that didn’t exist before now rippled under the tight-fitting T-shirt he wore, and his skin had a deep tan that made his features pop even more.

He reached up to touch his hair, the strands feeling thicker, softer than he remembered. There was a strange sense of satisfaction in how it fell around his face, like he was born to have it that way. As his fingers ran through the tousled locks, he caught the faintest whiff of cologne—something strong, athletic, and masculine.

Something inside him—a feeling that had been buried before—shifted. This was right. He was... supposed to look like this.

And then, as if to confirm it, a sudden wave of memories flashed before his eyes—high school memories. Football games. High fives with his teammates. Laughter with his jock friends. A pretty girl’s smile as she flirted with him in the halls. The vague recollection of endless hours spent playing Call of Duty in his friend’s basement, of sports cars and parties. The memories were his now, and they felt... good.

He glanced back at the mirror again. The face staring back at him was someone completely new—someone named Ethan Clark.

Ethan.

It sounded... right. It felt like the right name for the guy he had become.

Ethan’s first full day in this strange new life was a blur of sensations, conflicting memories, and awkward realizations.

He stood in front of his high school locker, the red-and-black track jacket feeling tight against his shoulders. The hallway buzzed with activity around him—students laughing, chatting, rushing to classes—but his attention kept wandering.

He couldn’t help but notice the girls.

They were all looking at him—some giving him shy smiles, others openly admiring him, especially the ones who whispered to each other and then giggled. Ethan had no idea how to handle it, but something inside him surged at the attention. It was like he wanted it. He liked the way they were looking at him. The way his tousled brown hair framed his face just right, the way it somehow made him look cooler, more attractive.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a locker mirror, and his heart skipped a beat. He looked good—like a guy who played varsity football, who could crush a bench press, who wore his hair just so in a way that drove girls wild. It was different, but it felt natural. Comfortable.

“Hey, Ethan,” one of the girls said as she walked by, her gaze lingering on him for a second too long. “You’re looking extra hot today. What’s the secret?”

Ethan blinked, confused at first. Was she talking to him? She smiled, and he suddenly felt this unfamiliar surge of confidence flood his chest. Without thinking, he ran a hand through his dark hair, giving her a slight smirk.

“Just, uh... woke up this way, I guess,” he said, his voice rougher, deeper than it used to be.

The girl giggled, clearly charmed, and kept walking, throwing him one last glance over her shoulder. Ethan watched her go, a mix of pride and something else stirring inside him. He couldn’t quite place it, but he didn’t need to.

This was who he was now. The guy with the dark, messy hair who turned heads, who was adored by girls, who fit right in with the team, the jocks, and the “normal” crowd. He was straight, athletic, confident—and he had no idea who he was before. The memories of his old life were slipping away, like sand through his fingers.

He walked down the hallway, his steps firm and sure. The world was different now. And for the first time in a long time, he was okay with it. In fact, it felt pretty damn good.

As Ethan settled further into his new identity, he quickly realized he was getting a lot more attention than he ever had before. It wasn’t just the girls; the guys on the football team were treating him like one of their own, giving him high-fives, calling him “bro,” and acting like he was the man.

He loved it. And he made sure everyone around him knew it.

One day, during lunch, he walked into the cafeteria with his new crew—a group of jocks who clearly saw him as the alpha in their little pack. The guys were laughing and slapping each other on the back. Ethan’s loud voice cut through the chatter as he cracked a joke about how the girls were practically throwing themselves at him now that he’d "finally started dressing like a real man." His comment earned a chorus of laughs from the table.

“I swear, bro, these chicks don’t know what to do with themselves,” Ethan said, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his now perfectly tousled hair. “Like, calm down. I’m just a normal guy.”

He smirked as the guys around him laughed, but the joke was all too familiar to him now—this was how they all talked. How the guys had to talk to be part of the crew. The alpha energy. The mocking of others. The jokes about the ‘liberal snowflakes’ and the ‘woke culture.’

“So, bro, what do you think of that chick in your history class? The one with the, like, big eyes?” one of his teammates asked, nudging him.

Ethan’s lip curled. “Pfft, she’s cute, but, like... I��m not really into the whole ‘intellectual’ thing,” he said with a scoff. “Girls should be, you know, fun. And pretty. That’s the only thing that matters. Politics are for losers anyway.”

The guys around him laughed, and a few clapped him on the back.

Ethan’s transformation was complete, or so he thought. Each day that passed, the remnants of his old life—the life of Luke—faded into oblivion. The whispers of art, of activism, of painting vibrant canvases of rebellion and love, all became distant echoes, drowned out by the thumping bass of his new life. The image of his blonde, shaggy hair, the colorful shirts, and the feeling of freedom in being himself—they were all gone now. Ethan Clark, the confident, athletic, and straight high school senior, was who he was meant to be.

And honestly? He couldn’t be happier.

The guy who once hated the idea of conformity, who argued endlessly with anyone who didn’t share his beliefs, had morphed into a version of himself that didn’t question anything.

Girls flocked to him. He flirted effortlessly, his tousled brown hair always falling just right, his posture always leaning casually against the locker with a smug smile that made their knees weak. He could tell that they adored him—hell, everyone adored him. The jocks respected him, and he’d even made it to captain of the track team. He was the star athlete, the alpha in his group, and nothing felt more exhilarating.

The few times when a flash of Luke’s old world would flicker—like when he’d overhear a conversation about climate change or a new art exhibit downtown—he’d feel a weird, nagging sense of discomfort, but it never lasted long. He’d push it aside with a loud joke or by tossing a football to one of his buddies, and the feeling would evaporate.

The most recent instance had come during a heated debate in his government class. A kid who sat in the back—one of those annoying guys with a patchy beard and a mind full of "woke" ideas—had dared to challenge Ethan's casual dismissal of LGBTQ+ issues. Ethan had shrugged it off with the kind of condescension that only someone truly at ease in his masculinity could muster.

“Dude,” Ethan had said, his voice dripping with arrogance, “I don’t know what kind of crazy world you’re living in, but we’re not doing that whole ‘gender-fluid’ thing here. I’m straight, I’m proud, and I’m not going to sit here and listen to some liberal lecture about equality. It’s simple: be a man, get a girl, and stop with all this nonsense.”

The guy had opened his mouth to argue, but Ethan had silenced him with a mock chuckle. “Honestly, I don’t have time for this bullshit,” he’d said, and with that, the room had gone quiet.

The looks of approval from his teammates and the laughter from his group had only fuelled Ethan’s growing sense of power. He was right, and everyone else was just wrong.

It was after that incident that the strangest thing happened—one night, alone in his room, Ethan stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his hair for the hundredth time, as he always did. His tousled, perfectly messy brown locks had become his trademark, and he ran his fingers through them with the kind of pride only a high school jock could have. He looked good. He knew he looked good. And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to enjoy the full force of that knowledge.

But then... it hit him.

The reflection wasn’t the problem—it was what was missing.

For a brief, disorienting moment, he could almost see it—the flash of blonde hair, the open, unapologetic expression, the vivid colors in his clothes. The warmth of a smile that wasn’t just for the girls or the boys who wanted to be his friend. It wasn’t just for the applause or the attention—it was a smile that came from being who he was, not from performing for everyone around him.

But the moment passed quickly, replaced by the face in the mirror that he now recognized so well—the face of Ethan Clark, the confident jock, the proud guy who didn’t care about the world of art or politics anymore.

For a second, though, Ethan’s gaze faltered. There was a slight hesitation—a small, uncomfortable ripple in the stream of his new identity.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. The thought felt foreign, even stupid. He smirked at his reflection, his confidence quickly returning.

“Get over it, man,” he told himself, his hand running through his messy hair again, his grip tight as he styled it just right. “This is who you are now. This is who you were meant to be.”

The unsettling sensation lingered, but only for a moment. Ethan stood tall, shoulders squared, and he smiled—genuinely, arrogantly—at the guy in the mirror. He had everything now. He was popular. He was strong. He had girls after him and the guys at his back. And most of all, he didn’t care about anything that didn’t fit into this new version of himself.

The weeks passed, and the echoes of Luke’s old life grew quieter. Ethan’s friendships with the other guys on the football team deepened, and his bond with the girls only grew more intense as they swooned over his rugged good looks and cocky charm. He spent less time reflecting on his past—less time worrying about the strange feeling in his gut that tugged at him when he thought about what he had lost.

One night, at a house party thrown by one of his teammates, Ethan stood with a group of his closest friends, a drink in his hand, and the girls around him laughing at his latest joke. Everything felt perfect. It was what he’d always wanted—what he’d deserved.

One of the girls, a blonde who’d been flirting with him for weeks, pulled him aside, her voice low and sultry. “Ethan, you’re like... so different from other guys,” she whispered, brushing a lock of his messy hair out of his face. “You’re just... amazing.”

He grinned, the compliment going straight to his head. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar rush of confidence flood him. “Well, babe,” he said, his voice smooth, “I’m just a man’s man.”

The girl laughed, leaning in closer, and Ethan kissed her on the lips. He’d become so used to this attention, this life of being the center of everything. It was a feeling he didn’t just enjoy—it was the only feeling that made sense anymore.

But as the night went on, as the alcohol and the party noise blared around him, a thought flickered again in the back of his mind. It was small, almost imperceptible, like a whisper from a distant past he couldn’t quite grasp. A memory of a world where being himself didn’t mean fitting in. A world where being free meant embracing everything that made him who he truly was.

The thought came and went, but this time it was different. It didn’t make him feel scared—it didn’t make him feel sad. It just... faded.

Ethan Clark was who he was. The boy who had been Luke was gone now. Completely gone.

And as Ethan kissed the blonde girl again, he couldn’t help but smile. He was everything he was meant to be.

There was no going back. There was no reason to.

Ethan’s transformation was complete. Every morning, he woke up in his new life, slipping effortlessly into the role of the popular, athletic jock—his tousled brown hair falling perfectly into place as if it had always been this way. His body was strong, chiseled from hours of training, and he was the star of the track team. More than that, he was a leader among the jocks, a natural at commanding attention without trying. He had the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing he had it all, and he knew the girls were obsessed with him.

The girls couldn’t get enough of his athletic frame, his perfectly styled hair, and the cocky, yet irresistible smirk he threw their way. He had a certain swagger now—one that came from both his physique and the newfound belief that he deserved to be admired. Ethan was a magnet for attention, and it felt so good.

But there was something else—something he didn’t always let the jocks see.

Ethan had always been a gamer. Sure, he was now the track team captain, the guy everyone turned to for advice on their bench press, but late at night, after practice, when the house parties were over and everyone had gone home, Ethan logged into his gaming setup.

The gaming chair, the massive monitor, the LED-lit keyboard—it was all tucked away in his bedroom, hidden behind a door that only his closest friends knew about. But even now, as captain of the team, as the guy who’d casually broken the 400-pound squat record and was getting invited to college recruiters' camps, Ethan was still that guy—the gamer who lived for the thrill of the digital battlefield.

He had always been good at it. No, scratch that—he’d always been great at it.

Every night, he dominated the leaderboards in Call of Duty and Fortnite, racking up kills with ease. He had his own Twitch account, but it wasn’t for the fame. It was just for the adrenaline, the rush of hearing the ping of a headshot, the satisfaction of topping the scoreboard with his friends.

There were nights when he played until 3 a.m., still wearing his track hoodie, drinking a monster energy drink, the glow of the screen lighting up his face as he obliterated opponents. He'd be wearing his headset, yelling at his buddies—laughing, trash-talking, keeping it light. No one knew about his online identity, but to Ethan, it was just as important as any track medal or touchdown. It was where he could be himself without the weight of the jock persona, without the expectation of being perfect all the time.

The football field was where Ethan thrived. The air was thick with the sound of cleats pounding the turf, the shouts of coaches pushing their players harder, and the constant rhythmic thumping of the ball hitting the ground. Ethan, naturally, was right at the center of it all, a strong, imposing figure in his football gear, his dark hair peeking out from under his helmet, his chest heaving with every breath.

As the captain of the football team, Ethan had earned the respect of every player on the field. They respected his strength, his unrelenting drive, and his ability to motivate others. He was ruthless in practice, always pushing the team harder, making sure no one slacked off. But despite his hard-nosed approach, he kept a certain arrogance that kept the guys in line. He wasn’t just the captain—he was the guy who set the tone for the team, the one who was feared and admired in equal measure.

Today’s practice was intense—punishing drills designed to improve agility and reaction time. Ethan’s muscles burned with the effort, but he wasn’t about to let up. He was determined to lead his team to victory this season. They had a big game coming up, one that could secure them a championship spot. And Ethan was more than ready.

He finished his sprints with ease, his lungs pushing through the burn, his legs feeling stronger with each stride. The guys were panting behind him, but Ethan didn’t even break a sweat.

“That’s how you run,” he said, smirking as he jogged back to the sidelines, his teammates panting behind him.

“Jesus, Ethan, you never slow down,” one of the defensive linemen, Jake, said between breaths.

Ethan threw him a lazy grin. “That’s because I’m built different, bro. You’re just not on my level yet.”

The guys chuckled, and Ethan felt the familiar swell of pride. He loved it. This was his world now. It felt right. The jocks who had once laughed at him in high school now admired him. The girls who had once ignored him now threw themselves at him. Ethan was the epitome of what every high school athlete dreamed of becoming—the guy who was good at everything, effortlessly cool and untouchable.

But then something caught his eye—a flicker of doubt. It was subtle. One of the guys on the team, Alex, had been showing Ethan something on his phone earlier in the locker room. He’d been talking about the new Star Wars Battlefront game and how he was crushing it with some of his online buddies. Ethan barely registered it at the time.

Now, as he caught his breath, he couldn’t help but think about it. Alex had mentioned a team—a clan that all played together late at night. The more Ethan thought about it, the more he realized that even though he was crushing it on the field, there was something oddly thrilling about those nights alone in his room, the camaraderie of his gaming friends, and the rush of winning in a world that didn’t care about how many touchdowns he scored or how big his biceps were.

His thoughts were interrupted when Coach shouted across the field.

“Clark! Get your head in the game! We’ve got a season to win!”

Ethan snapped back into focus, mentally shaking off the random thought. He was Ethan Clark, football captain, jock, the guy everyone looked up to. That was who he was.

Later that night, after the last of his teammates had left, Ethan headed back to his room, dropping his gear on the bed and collapsing into his gaming chair with a deep sigh. His muscles ached, but the comfort of his familiar setup—the glowing RGB lights, the cool click of his mouse, and the hum of the PC booting up—was like an old friend welcoming him back.

He was back where he belonged.

Ethan fired up Call of Duty, glancing over at his phone to see if any of his friends were online. Sure enough, a notification popped up: “Your Squad is waiting.”

He grinned.

Sliding on his headset, Ethan clicked “Join” and immediately heard the familiar voices of his gaming buddies flood through the speakers.

“Yo, Ethan, we’re about to wreck some noobs. You ready?”

Ethan’s grin widened. “Always, bro.”

As they dove into the game, Ethan’s body relaxed, his muscles still sore from practice, but his mind fully focused on the game ahead. This was where he felt free. This was where he could shut out the expectations of being the perfect athlete, the perfect teammate, the perfect son. Here, on the battlefield of the game, there were no rules about how to act or what to be. It was just him, his friends, and the rush of winning.

The hours slipped by in a blur of headshots and jokes. The adrenaline was just as real as it was on the football field, maybe even more so. Ethan was still the dominant force here. His reflexes were sharp, his aim precise. He dominated every match, and when they won, the rush was the same as it was when they hit the game-winning touchdown.

"Man, you're on fire tonight," one of his buddies, Tyler, said, laughing.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. "Just like always, bro. Who else can carry the squad like I do?"

The guys laughed, and Ethan reveled in the sound of their praise. It felt good. It felt right.

For a moment, as the squad geared up for the next round, he thought back to earlier that day on the football field—the sweat, the cheers, the hard work that had earned him his place as the team captain. Then, without even realizing it, his mind drifted back to his gaming chair, to his gaming world, where everything was just as real.

He wasn’t just Ethan Clark, the football player, the alpha jock. He was Ethan, the gamer, the guy who could lead a team to victory in both worlds—whether on the field or behind a screen. And for the first time in a long while, Ethan felt a sense of balance between these two sides of him. He had it all.

In this life, no one could touch him.

And that was exactly how he liked it.

Ethan's life seemed to revolve around two worlds: the football field and his gaming chair. But then there was Sophia—his girlfriend—who lived somewhere right between them, a perfect accessory to his newfound high school popularity.

Sophia was the blonde girl everyone noticed—the type of girl who was the center of attention at every party, with a laugh that made guys turn their heads and an effortless grace that made other girls a little jealous. She was the kind of girl who belonged on the arm of a guy like Ethan—athletic, handsome, and undeniably cool. And now she was, and she knew it.

The two had started dating a few weeks ago, and it had been a perfect fit. She was beautiful, outgoing, and obsessed with the idea of being with someone like Ethan—someone who could give her all the status and attention she craved.

Ethan wasn’t the kind of guy who spent a lot of time on his emotions, but when Sophia smiled at him, he couldn’t help but feel a certain rush of pride. He'd caught her eye first, but now she was his, and it felt good. There were whispers in the hallways, and every girl who tried to get his attention was met with the same smug, “I’ve got my girl” attitude. It was the kind of confidence that only someone who knew he had everything could pull off.

Sophia didn’t mind the attention. She was used to it, and she loved the way Ethan’s popularity amplified hers. It was a match made in high school heaven.

Later that day, after practice, Ethan found Sophia waiting by his truck, her arms crossed, a playful smirk on her face. He had been walking out with a couple of the guys from the team, talking about the upcoming game, but when he spotted her leaning against the tailgate, all conversation stopped. His friends shot each other knowing looks, and one of them, Alex, made an exaggerated “Ooooh” noise.

Ethan didn’t even acknowledge them. He made his way over to Sophia with that familiar swagger, not caring if anyone was watching.

“What’s up, babe?” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Sophia grinned, her eyes gleaming. “Not much. I was just thinking about how awesome you looked out there today. You were like, on fire.”

Ethan couldn’t help but smirk. “Of course I was. It’s what I do.”

She laughed, the sound high and melodic, and stood up straight. “Well, I’m glad you’re on fire... because I was thinking you could use some company tonight,” she said, teasing him a little as she walked toward the passenger side of his truck.

Ethan raised an eyebrow as he followed her. “What kind of company?”

She shot him a wink as she slid into the seat, settling in with a practiced ease. “Let’s just say I have plans for us—and they don’t involve any football or video games tonight. Just you and me, Ethan.”

Ethan grinned, his chest puffing up with pride. This was the life—the kind of life he’d always imagined. Popularity. Strength. A beautiful girl who loved him.

It was almost too perfect.

As he drove off, his mind wandered briefly, but it wasn’t to his old self—the person he used to be. There was no trace of Luke anymore, no reminder of the boy who’d been scared to even talk to a girl like Sophia. No, this was his world now. He was Ethan, and Sophia was his, and that was all that mattered.

At least, that's what he told himself.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWO

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03 @rosemariiaa

kalena speakss 🪽! wanted to give yall another chapter tonight since college is kicking my butt atm and idk when the next update will be. hopefully soon tho!

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

“I just don’t see why you keep acting like our relationship doesn’t matter. I'm tired of acting like it doesn’t piss me off.” Julian spoke, disrupting the peace I had created for myself as I got dressed in the bathroom.

We were supposed to be getting ready for the Sparks home opener game against the Dallas Wings. I was exhausted from getting into LAX at an ungodly hour of the night, and now the conversation was giving me a headache.

“Ju, are we together?”

“Yes—”

“Did you ask me to be your girlfriend?” I turn around, slipping the mini gold hoops in my hand into my ears.

“No, but—”

I cut him off before he gets the chance to defend his position. “Then we’re not together.” I sigh. “I like where this is going, I really do, but we can’t keep having this conversation, Julian. I’m tired of it. This is just the way my career is working out right now.”

“So what? You make more money when the public thinks you’re single?” Julian asks. He’s very visibly frustrated, as he has been since before I even stepped off the stage in New York.

“No. I make more money when I keep the main thing the main thing. And right now the main thing is my music.” The words bounce off the wall for a moment, silence cutting through the air. I feel bad. He really is a great guy, and I hate to put him in a position like this, but it’s the way it has to be. “Ju’ come on. You have to understand where I’m coming from. I’m sorry.”

My hand reaches out for his shoulder, attempting to lessen the blow. Instead he steps back from me, shaking his head with a huff and leaving the bathroom. 

“Have fun at the game, ‘Raye.” He speaks as he leaves, and it’s my turn to huff.

I turned around. Looking intently at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

This is the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship in years, and yet, I’m spending the majority of it fighting over something dumb. But is it really dumb, or am I being insensitive?

I really do like Julian. He’s funny and sweet, he never fails to go out of his way to support me; I mean he just caught a flight to see me on Jimmy Fallon. He buys me flowers, he cares about communication, and all the little things. But for some reason I Just can’t keep up with it. 

It sucks.

—

May 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California 

The atmosphere in the arena is booming, and oddly enough I find myself surprised at how many people have filled Crypto. I’m seated courtside, underneath the basket nearest to The Sparks bench. The game is halfway through the first quarter and at a timeout when I take my seat. 

I have on a burgundy leather set from Fashion Nova. The shirt is a cropped button up that I only fastened at the bottom button and matching shorts. I’m wearing a pair of matching burgundy Prada slingback pumps that my recent success has gratefully allowed me to purchase. 

I sent a last minute text to my sister, telling her that Julian bailed and I would love it if she joined me, hence the slight tardiness. 

I’ve never seen Cassie as excited as she is right now. She’s beaming with energy, you would’ve thought she’s been planning this for months rather than being invited last minute. She’s for sure more of a basketball fan than I am, I credit that to my uncle. Whereas my dad made me more of a football fan.

“You’re gonna be getting infinite Christmas gifts this year for this, oh my God.” Cassie jokes with a kool aid smile on her face. I giggle, brushing her off.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, Cassie.” I giggle, brushing her off playfully. My phone dings, and I pull it up from my lap to check the notification.

Hey I feel like shit about earlier

Talk when you get home?

It’s Julian. Of course it’s Julian. I try to fight the urge to frown but I can’t help the way the disheartened expression forms in my face. I shut my phone off, shaking the feeling off and turning back to the game.

The buzzer sounds, alerting us that the game is starting again. It allows me to finally bring my attention back to the game. The Sparks are down seven, but you couldn’t even tell that the fans were bothered by it. 

“Jumbotron.” My sister whispers to me and I notice the camera moving past ‘celebrity row’ and getting shots of everyone.

“Bro.” I groan. I don’t hate it, it just gets so awkward. The camera man stays out there for too long and then I forget what to do with my hands. 

But regardless, the camera approaches me and my sister. I look up briefly at the Jumbotron before back down at the camera in front of me. A smile spreads to my face and I wave emphatically. Fortunately it doesn’t take very long and the camera man backs away a little.

Only briefly though, because within a matter of seconds he’s crashing to the ground and his large camera falls into Casandra’s lap.

During all the basketball games I’ve ever watched, I’ve always wondered how common the players run into the media crew or the stands. And every time I've sat in an arena, I’ve always said it would never be me. So you can imagine my surprise when a 6 '1 Paige Bueckers fell right on me after getting fouled going for a layup, knocking over the camera man in the process.

“Oh shit, man you good?” Paige asks him. Her hand helps steady him on his feet and Cassie hands him his camera back, mumbling hurriedly if he was alright. The man nods, patting her on the back.

My eyes meet hers, and suddenly I’ve never seen a prettier set of eyes. A shade of blue that was indescribable. Her hand reaches out to the both of us, palms outstretched as she asks, “Are you guys okay?” It comes out as a stutter and I barely notice it but it’s there.

I nod. And then I remember she still has free throws to shoot. “Yeah. All good, thanks.” I smile. Paige turns around, brushing her teammates off with thumbs ups and high fives when they ask if she’s alright. 

I would be an idiot to say that I wasn’t a little star struck. Sure, I wasn’t completely up to date with all things basketball, but I knew more than enough to know just how much Paige Bueckers was loved in the basketball community. Hell, the city of LA basically through a parade when they got that #1 overall pick.

She was a superstar, in all possible definitions of the word. You couldn’t go more than five minutes without seeing her face on TikTok or some commercial. 

And she was stunning; the last five seconds of me staring at her confirmed it in my mind even more.

—

“Thanks, Holly.” I beam with a smile. It only takes a few seconds of me walking away from postgame to hear yelling in my ear and Cam’s long arms around my shoulders.

In the least cocky way possible, I played an amazing game. Yes, the defense I faced tonight was different than when I was at Connecticut and efficiency wise I did struggle a bit. Who am I kidding— I played phenomenal.

26 points 9 rebounds and 7 assists, the pick-and-roll with Dearica racking up many of those. The team came out with a narrow win over the Wings, getting our season off on the right foot.

“That’s my fuckin��� rook!” I hear Azura Stevens hype me up. I dap her up cleanly, the smile on my face physically impossible to get rid of. For only being on the team for a month, they did a great job of welcoming me with open arms. 

I could definitely get used to this.

A towel hangs around my neck, picking up all the sweat from the game. I’m walking towards the locker rooms with a few of my teammates when I get pulled back for some autographs. I don’t say no, honestly I can’t remember the last time I refused to sign an autograph. Or if I ever did. 

There’s a young girl in front of me alongside her mom. She has on the UConn National Championship shirt from a month ago, her eyes wide as she pushes my sparks jersey up to me. I sign it with a smile, my heart swelling in size when she squeals and thanks me profusely.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming out!” I grin. My feet carry me through a few more fans. I sign all sorts of memorabilia from hoodies, to jerseys, phone cases, and shoes. As well as a wild number of selfies before I hear my name.

“Paige, come here!” It’s Rickea, as her voice has become widely recognizable in the last month that I’ve been here. “Oh my God, walk slower!”

I roll my eyes as I pick up my pace. She’s standing courtside with her warmups on. “Finally. I wanted you to meet a friend of mine. Maraye, this is Paige.”

When I look over it’s the girl from the TV last night, standing there with her purse in hand and— oh my God I ran into her like an hour ago. I fell into her lap. Oh my God this is embarrassing.

She looks even more gorgeous than when I was drooling over her last night. Her hair is the same, from what I can remember, but her outfit is completely different. The color she has on is similar to the one from last night, but the set shows off so much more skin. Her legs are toned, the top she wears is unbuttoned just enough to give me a show of the lace black bralette under it, and her gold septum shines in the arena light. 

“Hey.” I greeted her and the girl who sat next to her earlier in the night. “I do apologize about earlier by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” She reassures me.

“P, Cam, and I were watching the show last night. You did great, Raye.” Rickea pushes at Maraye’s shoulder. My eyes catch how she blushes in response. 

“You on a world tour or something? New York last night, and LA tonight.” I joke, and she laughs. Her laugh is possibly more angelic than her singing, and the way her accent popped out when she spoke might even have an edge on that.

“Nah. I just couldn’t miss opening night. Kea’ would never let me live it down, plus my sister is like a huge hoops fan.” She explains, gesturing to the two women next to us. 

I’m towering over her as I look at her but she still keeps eye contact with me. My eyes never leave hers, I didn’t even want them to.

“I was just telling her about Cam and Ben’s dinner party on friday.” Rickea starts. She turns to face me, but I’m still stuck on Maraye and her— well her everything. Rickea swats my arm as slyly as she can to get my attention. My eyes rip away from the musician with an incredulous force. “You are going to that, right?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. I gotta check on when Drew and my dad are coming to town.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there then?” Maraye speaks. 

Someone please help me figure out why her eyes are so mesmerizing. They’re big and a perfect shade of brown. The slight tilt of her head when she asks me nearly drives me crazy.

“Yeah maybe.” I nod before looking at Rickea. I don’t know how long we’ve stood here, but what I do know is that coach will hand our asses to us on a silver platter if we’re late to the first media session of the season. “Yo, we gotta…” My head tilts towards the tunnel.

“Oh shit you’re right. It was so good to see you guys!” She jumps, pulling Maraye and her sister into a group hug. “Tell y’all folks I say hi!”

The four of us exchange waves and we walk off the court. By the time we make it to the tunnel Rickea is letting out a loud cackle and pushing me away from her. “You’re not even trying to hide it!” She laughs. I know exactly what she’s talking about but I act clueless, it’s too early for my teammates to be ridiculing me over my choices in women.

“You are sooooo going to that dinner party.”

A smirk spreads on my face and I roll my eyes. For the first time all month, I can’t even disagree. Nothing is stopping me from going to that dinner party.

[brattyboy]

Set, Camera, Action

Requested - San Choix Male Reader - Word Count: 1,241 words - MDI

Synopsis: Y/n is a renown model and actor, who rose to fame especially after being revealed to some of the media as San's in secret husband. It was another busy day filled with filming and photoshoots until your husband passed by urgently after seeing your latest magazine photos in lingerie clothes. A matter which he quoted needed "urgent intervention".

"Why is it that I have to share your beauty with others when it's mine to keep?"

He whispered softly as he was tracing kisses along your neck. You were already used to his possessiveness and you both knew that it was during those moments that you would express your love the most to each other. Here you were gripping on his arms trying to make too much noise as he devours you slowly pressing you further, your back against the wall.

"S-san... Let's solve this issue at home~ P-please..."

You tried to stop and convince him, too afraid to get caught in such an intimate moment. After all, everyone knew about the dynamics between you two but neither of you could make it public as to preserve your public image.

"This time I'll make sure everyone knows whose name you scream every night. I'll give them a freebie of my own show~"

He said as he tossed you over the couch beside the dresser mirror. You didn't even bother to resist his desires because seeing him all dominant as he was slowly unbuttoning his shirt only fueled your drive.

"God you look just way too good in those~ It would be a shame to tare them apart, but you know I like to solve my business skin-to-skin~"

He whispered softly as he approached your face leaving nearly no distance between you too. Gazing at your lips he couldn't hold back from biting your lower lip before fully attacking them. This only led you to respond as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer and allowing him to enter deeper inside your mouth, both of your tongue swirling and twirling for dominance.

"Take those off... Let me touch you, San... Please..."

You pleaded with begging siren eyes, and who was he to say no to your requests? He skillfully discarded his shirt, putting on display his well-sculpted figure, from chest, to abs, to arms and shoulders. A piece of art only for you to worship and adore. You lifted your back up as you gently started placing kisses along his chest, while your hand was palming his evident tent. You let your hand slip inside feeling him, veiny, girthy and erect, you just knew you were about to receive a good dicking. That's when a cocky idea came to your mind as you leaned near his ear to whisper.

"Daddy must have been really tired lately~ How about I help you relax a little? All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the show~"

"Fuck... Y/n... You better take responsibility for what's about to happen tonight... If you keep going at it I might not be able to go easy on ya~"

"But who ever said I wanted you to?"

You replied with a smirk as you pushed him back up and kneeled down on your knees between his thighs. God you were looking so fuckable to him right but he knew that good things are always saved for the last. He contemplated your swiftly moves as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down, revealing his erect dick slapping against his abs. You grabbed between your hands kissing the tip gently and showering it with licks. San couldn't hold himself from hissing at your maneuvers.

"Baby quit the teasing or else I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

He threatened as he grabbed your hair, that's when you knew that you were better off gaging over his cock than test his limits. Your mouth engulfed fully with all its might, hitting the back of your throat. His size really did match his name - mountain. You would be lying if you didn't acknowledge the pleasure you felt knowing that you were the only one capable of turning this cocky beast into a needy moaning freak with just your mouth. Your pace gradually increased all thanks to San's forced mouth-fucking, his thrusts slowly became erratic and you could already taste his precum flooding out. That's when he pulled out huffing and looked down at you while he was slightly drenched in his sweat. He leaned in giving your clothed pussy a loud smack before commanding you.

"Face down on the couch and ass up now."

It was finally time for the part you've been waiting for. After all your hole has been aching and itching since the start of this make out session and you both knew what was needed to solve this issue. You followed his commands while deliberately discarding your pants, leaving your pussy on full display. San kneeled down his face right in front of your gaping your hole, holding both butt cheeks between his hands, he leaned forward as he slowly intruded his tongue inside, devouring every taste he would get.

"S-san your tongue is going at it a l-little too strong~"

You moaned out trying to catch your breath as he was eating you out, but let's be real, he couldn't care less. He kept on savoring every lick of your ass as if it was an open feast. Once he felt that your hole has become loose enough, he got up and positioned his dick facing your entrance. You could feel his tip teasing you slowly as he pushed it in and out, allowing you to slowly adjust to what was about to happen.

"Won't you ram it up my ass already?"

You asked unconsciously in a bitchy tone, and it was at that moment that San slammed himself fully into you, causing you to let out disrupted pleas and moans every time he thrusted into you. Despite having done it so many times, his size would never fail to amaze you. The feeling of his dick rubbing against your walls as he used you as his own fleshlight was all you needed to reach ecstasy.

"Fuck y/n your walls are so warm I might melt inside of you~ You like feeling my cock molding your insides as I please my little sex toy, don't you? Now tell me, who's the only one capable of taming that slutty pussy of yours hm? Tell everyone who makes sure to keep you filled up every night~"

He started moaning aloud making sure the neighboring rooms were able to hear him. He was gradually increasing his pace and sinful moans and skin claps filled the room. He eventually grabbed your hands holding them steady in one hand and gripped on your hips with the other. That's when the beast within him awoke as he pounded you mercilessly and at an animalistic pace.

"Only you S-san... You're the only one who can make me feel this g-good~ I'm only made to satisfy daddy's pleasures and n-nobody else's~"

"Fuck yeah bitch~ Good thing you know where you stand around here~"

You two went on about it until you felt your climax piling up which lead you to spurt out all of the stored cum you had - trust me you went overboard with that. Which also led you to unintentionally clench too hard on San's cock, pushing to cum and fill you up on the spot. Both of you eventually fell forward drenched in cum and sweat as you caught your breaths and drifted away, your arms surrounding each other's bodies. Let's just say that after this, nobody even bother to check up on you having known the show that was rolling inside.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Crowded Room — Ethan Edwards

Summary; In which Ethan never thought of you like that until he saw you show up to a party with a football player

Content Warning: 18+ Content, Smut, oral sex(f receiving), p in v sex, filth, slight degradation, hair pulling, choking, used of ‘sir’ ‘whore’ ‘slut’, mirror sex, unprotected sex(don’t be silly y’all), creampie (🫣), breeding kink, mentions of birth control, religious mentions(really quickly), JJ McCarthy getting caught in the crossfire, possessive JJ, cheating(? not really, reader and jj have gone on like 2 dates) loosely based on Lovin On Me By Jack Harlow

Pairing; Ethan Edwards & Fem Reader

You were tucked beneath JJ’s broad shoulder as you entered the fraternity house. You guys were immediately greeted with the smell of alcohol and marijuana. JJ’s grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you closer to his body. You two mingled with various athletes and a few of your sorority sisters as you made your way into the kitchen. You smiled softly at Ethan as you saw him pouring some concoction into a plastic cup as your voice came out softly, “Hey Eth.”

Ethan had been in your Ethics in sports class since freshman year and for some reason your professor always paired you two up for partner work. You would be lying in you said that you didn’t notice how attractive the hockey player was. He had the biggest and softest brown eyes you’d seen. He always had on that stupid hat and his beautiful dark hair sticking out. Anyone with eyes could see that Ethan Edwards was an attractive guy.

Ethan had never seen you as anything more than a friend. You were kind, funny and the first sorority girl he’d met that truly understood the concept of hockey. You had always been a friend to the brown haired hockey player. But you stood a mere five feet away from him, clad in a low cut cropped cheetah print top that accentuated your breasts perfectly, like the shirt was molded around your body. A fair amount of your stomach was out until it met the short leather skirt that had Ethan’s pants constricting his lower hips.

Ethan had never thought about it before but in that moment all he was thinking about was bending you over the counter and fucking the shit out of you, without a care in the world that JJ McCarthy seemed to be staking his claim on you in the kitchen. The way you said his name made him feel ridiculous for never thinking about you in this capacity. But surely you’d never thought of him that way right?

Ethan raised an eyebrow ever so slightly as he saw the grip JJ held on your hip. He could see the intensity of the hold by the skin visible between the hem of your top and the your skirt. He also noticed how JJ’s eyes were glued to him as you watched him intently. Ethan pressed the cup to his lips, “Hey Y/N, McCarthy. Didn’t know y’all were a thing.” You went to open your mouth to say that you weren’t, that tonight was your like 3rd date, when JJ spoke, “It’s new, right babe?” Your heart was beating up into your throat as you nodded, “Yep, good seeing you Eth. I have to use the ladies room.”

You looked up into JJ’s piercing blue eyes and unglued yourself from his side. You slipped out of the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed by JJ’s sudden influx of testosterone he’d felt the urge to show. You walked down the seemingly never ending hallway. You entered the bathroom and went to shut the door only for a hand to stop you. You looked up, taken aback as Ethan stood in the doorway, “Are you okay?” You felt your throat clam up, “‘M all good Eth.” Ethan shut and locked the door to the bathroom behind him as he leaned against it while you stood in front of the mirror, “Your a shitty liar Y/N. What’s going on in your pretty little head?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “I don’t even know. I’m not dating JJ by the way.” Ethan laughed heartily, “I gathered, you looked like you just shit your pants when he called you babe. Most girls don’t have that reaction.” You laughed, “Can I be honest for a minute?” Ethan grinned, “I’ve never known you to not be honest. What’s up?” You giggled nervously, partially tipsy from the bottle of Pink Whitney you had pregamed with at your sorority before leaving the house for this party.

“I’m kinda nervous being alone with you right now.” Ethan frowned, immediately feeling bad, initially believing he’d made you uncomfortable, “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I can go.” You shook your head, “No it’s not you. Well not like that.” Ethan raised an eyebrow as he walked across the room and stopped next to you, “What’s wrong then?” You laughed slightly, “Being alone with you makes me nervous because your hot and I’m tipsy but I’m pretty sure this is how a handful of my wet dreams have started.”

Ethan laughed breathily, “So I make you nervous with my fleeting sex appeal? Good to know.” You rolled your eyes, “See this is why I should have kept my mouth shut. You never take anything seriously.” Ethan stood in front of you, keeping you from moving away from the counter. He placed a hand on your bare skin, “Trust me pretty, I’m taking this very seriously. Hop up on the counter for me.” You pressed your back against the mirror as Ethan dropped to his knees.

Your breath hitched as his warm breath traveled up your legs as he pressed soft wet kisses up your legs. By the time he reached your knees, you legs spread further giving Ethan easier access to your thighs and soaking core. An pornographic groan left Ethan’s mouth as his lips neared your burning core. He looked up at with his beautiful brown eyes lit up by desire, “Is this okay?” You groaned at his question, “God yes, please.” Ethan pushed your skirt up further as he pulled your panties down in one swift motion.

Your hand’s immediately flew to Ethan’s head, removing his hat and setting it near the sink as your fingers threaded through his hair as his tongue met the bundle of nerves that had a coil forming in your stomach. Ethan hummed as he pulled away, “So wet for me. Such a whore, letting me take you in a bathroom.” You felt yourself clench around the air as Ethan’s fingers slid inside of your dripping cunt. You felt a unrecognizable moan leave your lips as you clamped your legs around Ethan’s head as he began to lap up your juices as you came down from your high.

You breathed heavily as you leaned your head against the mirror and panted, “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that.” Ethan laughed, “Don’t worry it’s hot.” You rolled your eyes, “I cannot believe I did that. Oh god, I’m like a total whore.” Ethan pressed a kiss against your lips, “Sorry I just really wanted you to stop talking.” You groaned as you pulled him into a passionate kiss, your core clenching as you shamelessly grinded against him. Ethan pressed his hands on your hips, “Are you sure?” You reached down to unzip your skirt letting it fall to the ground as you pulled Ethan into you, “I’ve never been more sure of something.”

Ethan groaned as he pulled his shorts down and kicked them to the side. You hummed to yourself as Ethan rummaged through the drawers in search of a condom, only to come up empty handed. You groaned as you pulled him by his shirt to you, “I have an IUD, please just fuck me Eth. I need you inside me so badly.”

Ethan practically groaned at your words, “Such a desperate little slut for me. Just begging for me to fuck you raw in a random party bathroom. Didn’t peg you for a freak.” You groaned as you clenched your thighs together, “Damn it would you just fuck me already or do I need to have JJ come do that?” Ethan scoffed as he turned you to face the mirror as he adjusted himself behind you.

You felt a sharp breath leave your mouth as Ethan slid into you. Your chest tightening as he bottomed out inside you. Ethan’s hands found their way to your hips, fingers digging into your skin, harshly enough to leave bruises. A groan leaving his mouth, “You feel so good. Clenching around me, such a little slut.” You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head as Ethan’s hips began to move rhythmically. As sharp gasp left your lips as Ethan pulled at your hair, bringing your back pressed against his chest. A soft groan emitted from Ethan’s lips into your ear. You smirked pridefully, “Did I just hear Mr Ethan Edwards who has a reputation for never moaning during sex, moan?” Ethan rolled his eyes, “Shut up before I pull out.” You whines lightly at his words, “Please, alright fine sir. Just don’t stop.”

You felt Ethan tighten his grip on your hair, “Call me that again, please.” You grinned, learning Ethan’s soft spot in bed. A soft moan leaving your lips as your eyes screwed shut as you fell into the bathroom counter, “Oh god right there. Don’t stop please sir.” Ethan’s hand found it’s way around your throat, holding just tight enough to make you feel pressure but loose enough your air supply wasn’t compromised. You clenched around Ethan’s cock as he pounded up into your pussy.

You let out a pornographic moan, “Shit, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” Ethan groaned as he breathed heavily, “I’m there too. I wanna cum inside you so bad.” You groaned at his words, previously believing it was impossible to become more wet, “Cum in me Eth, I need it. Need to feel you inside me.” Ethan groaned, “I could get your pregnant right now given the chance.” You let out another moan as you felt the coil building in your stomach burst as you clenched around his cock. Your orgasm triggering Ethan’s as he came following you.

You leaned against the counter, ass bare in the air as Ethan’s cum dropped down your thighs. You finally caught your breath and grinned as Ethan got a few square of paper towel and began to wipe his cum off of your legs and helped you back into your skirt and panties. You sighed as you two made your way out of the bathroom. A sinking feeling built in your stomach as it hit you, you’d have to explain to JJ where you’d gone off to for nearly an hour.

The sinking feeling dissipated when you found JJ sprawled across the couch with a redhead perched on his lap making out. You let out a sigh of relief as Ethan draped his arm on your shoulder, “Back to another crowded room we go.” You had expected him to enter the room and abandon you to go back to his teammates and brag over the easy lay he got, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and led you over to his friends. A small smile forming on your face as he sat down and pulled you into his lap as he watched some of his teammates play beer pong.

[jaqofalltrades]

Work From Home

Anakin Skywalker x F!reader

Warnings: Smut!!, oral f receiving, fingering, voice control?, low-key edging, sub!reader, sweet Ani:), secret relationship.

Your day started as any other, waking up in the Jedi temple to do your duties and practice your training. Anakin had gone on a mission off planet. Somewhere on Kashyyyk, not the safest of planets. Even though you had been worried for him all day, you could not voice your opinions, seeing as any romantic relationships were strictly forbidden for Jedi. 

The two of you had started your secret meetings a few months ago, at first it was just to relieve stress and pent up excitement. A mutual agreement, as long as no one caught feelings. Obviously that didn't go as planned, and now you were dating. Only for the past month and a half, but it was still longer than anyone else in the vicinity.

So now you were winding down, freshly out of the shower with a towel covering your body, rolled at the top to keep it from slipping, and one wrapping your wet hair. You had a small room, connected to an even smaller bathroom. It came fully equipped with 1 table, 1 chair, 1 bed, and 1 pillow. Over the time you had been here, you acquired more. Like the extra robes in your closet, too big for you, but a perfect fit for Anakin. An extra pair of mens boots were tucked behind a hanging jacket, and extra pillows thrown on the bed. Every now and again you’ll have company, and spot one of Anakin's things lying around. You are quick to redirect them as you used the force to flick them away.

You were in your dresser, about to pick out something comfortable to wear to sleep. The door opened with a mechanical sound, that made you jump slightly and grip your towel harder, “Who the hell do you think you are?!” You called out as you turned, expecting someone in your business. Your voice died out as you saw the six foot figure standing in front of your closed doorway. A smile immediately graced your lips as you rushed forwards to hug him. 

He stumbled back at the impact and chuckled as he wrapped his arms around your back. He started with a chuckle, “Geez sweetheart, thanks for the warm welcome. At least I know you don't have anyone else sneakin’ around in here.” He lifted you slightly off the ground as he squeezed you tightly.

“Mm, you know I would never. And maybe if you knocked, or even just let me know you were coming I wouldn't have yelled.” You ended your sentence with a more stern look. As your feet went back on the ground you pushed yourself off him, looking up at him with a scrunched nose. “And anyways, I should be mad at you for not checking in all day, how am I supposed to know if you've died?” You crossed your arms as you walked back to your dresser. You took the towel off your head and grabbed a brush, looking in the mirror above as you started to brush through your hair.

Anakin's eyes were glued on you as you brushed your hair. Specifically the water that was dripping down your neck, over your collar bone and.. Soaked into the towel wrapped around your body. 

He had been thinking about you all day, and to have you in front of him now was like a sweet treat for his eyes. He let a smile grow on his face at your attitude. He found it more endearing than anything. “Oh, did I worry you? Don't let it sweetheart, I’m always careful, I’ve got you to think about.. But I’ll do my best.” As he spoke he removed his heavy boots, and his cloak; leaving him in his pants and your favorite fitted black shirt, not bothering in taking them off.

But he didn't for one second, take his focus off you. Your clean scent filled the air and it was making him woozy. He had already had a long, and extremely tiring day, he just wanted to relax, and do something he enjoyed. You had finished brushing your hair and you stood with your arms crossed, looking at him through the mirror. “Thank you Ani. But you aren't invincible okay?” Your eyes followed him, turning around to look at him directly. He sat idly on the edge of your bed, only 2 feet in front of you. He looked tense almost, like he was thinking really hard.

In his own perspective he was simply watching you. The way your mouth moved as you scolded him, how drops of water skimmed down your collar from your hair. The small puddle around your feet, and how your towel was starting to slip. He reached his arm forward, grabbing your waist gently and using his foot to pull you closer. 

You moved between his legs where he sat on your bed with a light gasp. He looked up at you and his pupils were blown, and he looked like a puppy. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, massaging them lightly. “I know baby, trust me. I’m always careful.” You have tingles running all over your body, starting from where Anakin's skin came in contact with yours and out. His eyes roamed over your covered body as his hands stayed where they were. He breathed you in as he pulled you closer, sitting sideways on his lap. “Have you been missin’ me?” He asked airily, placing his lips against your neck. He kissed along it gently, moving towards your jaw. 

Sparks flew across you skin, making you shiver. You leaned into him and you felt your thoughts melt away. “Mhm…” You hummed in response, “All the time.” Your brought your hands to cup his jaw, gently pulling his face up to yours. His eyes flicked between your eyes and lips, smashing them against his, quick and hungrily. He had been waiting for you all day and there was no stopping it now.

Your lips pressed against his in unison. His lips were chapped from being out all day, but you kind of liked it, it added extra roughness to his touch. Your hands started to roam over his shoulders, squeezing them tightly. You felt him smirk into your lips as you makeout on the edge of your bed. Soon you started to feel his hands groping you, partially over your towel, some not. His mechanical arm trailed up your back and into the bottoms of your hair.

Anakin's metal hand secured a grip in your hair, pulling you down onto the bed, hovering his body on top yours. He has a big grin on his face as his other hand rubbed up and down your side gently over your towel. You were looking up at him, a warm blush spreading across your cheeks.

His smile lines shone deep in his face, making him even more handsome in your eyes. “You look so pretty for me baby…” He spoke against your jaw in a hushed tone, leaving slow kisses on it. It sent shivers down your spine and made you smile flusteredly. “All squeaky clean,, and you smell so damn good.” Anakin let out a quiet and airy chuckle as he spoke to you. He buried his face into you and it made you laugh at the tickling sensation.

You playfully pushed his face back and spoke with a laugh, “Stop it- that tickles!” The laugh cut off and was replaced with a pleasured gasp leaving your lips as Anakin bit down and sucked on the skin. Not enough to leave a dark bruise, but just enough that the two of you could recognize it.

His hands roamed your body, gently tugging the towel off your still damp skin. The contrast of your soft, plump skin on his calloused palms felt like his personal heaven. He continued to massage, kiss and seer every bit of you into his mind. You had started to feel hot with need for him, arching your body up onto his.

“C’mon Ani, do something before I have to take this into my own hands,” you huffed at him in a whiny tone. His eyebrows raised and he gave you a look that made you want to pounce on him. His eyes had gotten heavier, and the tension felt ten times more real.

Anakin dragged his gaze down your bare figure, then back up to your big, sparkling, needy eyes. “I’m sorry angel, are you saying you can do this yourself? Because I can let’ya do that…” He smirked as he retracted his hands from your body. 

His smirk grew as he watched you immediately start shaking your head. “No, no- thats not what I meant! Please, Ani, I need you.” You pulled his hands back onto your waist and ran your fingers over his shoulders, looking at him with you bottom lip between your teeth; knowing how it drove him crazy.

His head shook with a smile as he kissed your forehead, “Only because you asked so nicely.” His mechanical hand traveled down your stomach, towards the growing heat in your abdomen. The coolness of the metal made your skin flinch under it.  

He landed a few kisses on your stomach and looked up at you with a devilish smirk. His cool hand massaged your inner thigh before making contact with your wet folds. Your jaw fell open at the coolness of his fingers, then biting your lip in anticipation. Anakin slipped his middle finger into you agonizingly slow, knuckle by knuckle. A subtle whine left your lips when he added a second finger, pumping teasingly.

Anakins’ eyes were glued to your dripping pussy, pupils blown with lust. “Maker you’re gorgeous… Cant wait to fuck you how you need,” his voice was low and gravelly, making you shiver. He curled his fingers in just the right way, making you moan abruptly.

“Fuck Ani-” his other hand clamped over your mouth gently, restricting you from making anything more than a muffled groan. 

“Shh- shh. Gotta stay quiet for me princess. Okay?” He didn't let up his pace, pushing knuckle deep. You nodded your head hesitantly, concentrating on holding yourself back. His hand slipped down your jaw and then hooked his arm under your thigh, reaching around to your side, holding you in place. 

His metallic fingers felt so right inside you, hitting all the spots you cant. He sped up his thrusting, the sound of your wetness filling the room. The sight of you crumbling beneath him made his pants tighten painfully. 

Your back arched off the soft sheets, and your lower half wiggled with pleasure. His hand pressed you down onto your lower stomach, and into the bed, thrusting his fingers into you faster, but left you unsatisfied when he suddenly pulled them out. You trained your eyes on him as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking in his cheeks as he cleaned your juices from them, that dark look in his eyes.

Your cheeks flushed at his actions, butterflies erupting in your stomach, the dull ache becoming stronger. “Ani! Why’d you stop?” your voice a low whine. 

He spoke as he lowered his head towards your core, “Don't worry baby, m’just gettin started.” His metal hand wrapped under your other thigh, holding down your other hip. He licked a slow stripe on your aching pussy, relief rushing through you. 

Before you could give him a physical reaction, Anakin started eating you out like an animal starved. His tongue massaged inside your walls so good. He was practically a god in this area. You tried to keep it down, but you couldn't help but let small whines and moans escape. “Mmmf.. fuck, just like that Ani, you're so good to me,” your words came out airy and high pitched, making Anakins dick twitch in his pants.

He groaned against you, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through your tummy. You let out a sudden moan when his flesh thumb started to circle on your clit, an acutely slower pace compared to his tongue inside you. Your pussy gripped his fingers like a vice.“Y’so sweet Princess… like fucking candy,” he mumbled as he continued to ravish your cunt.

You felt your high approaching quickly, his vulgar words urging you closer. Anakin removed his thumb from working your clit, and you were going to say some bratty quip about it when he pressed his two fingers back inside you and set a rapid pace. You couldn't stop the pornographic noises leaving you, consumed in pleasure.

His fingers immediately slowed their pace and you groaned at the sudden drop in pressure in your stomach. Anakin looked up at you, lips and chin glistening with your arousal, “You gonna stay quiet, or do you want everyone to know you're a slut for my fingers baby?” 

You squirmed under him, trying to get more friction. “I’ll be quiet I promise, just please keep going Ani m’so close!” Your toes curled when his fingers just barely scraped that squishy spot deep inside you. He pumped them slow and deep, making your eyes flutter shut.

Anakin kissed your inner thigh, his voice deep, “Thats my good girl… Now eyes on me. Want you to watch me make you cum.” Your pussy clenched around his fingers, your slick making lewd noises. 

You opened your eyes, to be met with Anakin already looking at you, his eyes dark and concentrated. His mouth attached to your clit, sucking and licking feverishly. He thrusted his fingers in an uncontrolled manor, curling them at just the right angle. 

The two combined with the eye contact you held has you coming undone fairly quick. Your thighs clenched around his ears, and he felt like he was in heaven. As your legs started to shake he increased his pace even more, which you didn't think was possible. Quiet moans escaped you, your hands grabbing at the sheets beneath you. 

“Ani- ah.. m’gonna… please, please- Anakin!” you begged in a raw and hushed moan. He sucked on your clit, keeping his eyes on you. The view of him below you, eating you out like a god had you cumming in seconds. Your thighs clamped around him and your tension filled legs spasmed and heels dug into his back muscles.

Anakin watched how your face contorted with pleasure, mouth hung open slightly and your eyes begging to flutter closed, but you kept them on him like he told you. The small sheen of sweat covering your face made it seem like you were glowing, his perfect little angel cumming on his fingers so sweetly.

Your juices flowed from you as he continued to fuck you through your high, his fingers only letting up slightly as you clenched around him. He shamelessly licked up your juices, taking his time as you started to relax. Your ears were ringing, vision black in the corners, and your voice was temporarily out of order. Your body melted back into the bed, legs going slack over Anakin's shoulders.

You started to come back when you felt his gentle hand stroking up and down your calf. You smiled at him cheekily, brain mush while staring at his pretty features. He crawled up to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your lips. You could taste yourself on him, not complaining. He had your cheek cupped in his mechanical hand and he pulled back slowly. “Ready for more baby?”

Lmk if you want a part twoo, if you do i'll get to the GOOD stuff. I just need validation in my work lol cause I constantly question if its worth writing. Anyways tell me what u think, send requests or don't rlly whatever you want! want fanfic to start a comeback bc its been lacking lately in new fics so I've been getting to work

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys confessing their feelings

☆ characters: zoro, mihawk

☆ up next: what are we? (law x reader)

☆ a/n: my two favorite swordsmen.. i didn't realize how much i missed writing for zoro so definitely expect more marimo content in upcoming posts. enjoy lovelies!

zoro 

“Let’s go fishing, Usopp,” Luffy laughed, “Oi! Zoro! Wanna fish with us? I heard there’s Sea Kings in these waters!”

Zoro waved a hand in Luffy’s direction to dissent, though he wasn’t really paying attention to anything happening around him.

A third bottle of beer found its way into the hands of the scarred swordsman, and was happily chugged within seconds.

His head was buzzing, though not from alcohol.

He was nervous.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt for the umpteenth time that night, trying to work up a sense of courage. 

To his satisfaction, no one else had seemed to notice his behavior, 

You were flipping through a magazine with Nami, suntanning in the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen. 

He couldn’t think straight when you were around and he really needed to- now more than ever.

For weeks now he’d been trying to think of how to admit his feelings to you- a harder feat for him than most.

To completely let down every wall he’d spent years and years building up for even just a moment or two of vulnerability.

He’d come close to telling you several times already, and he was pretty sure he might have let something slip before when he was drunk, leading to more than one awkward morning after. He’d avoid you, beat himself up over it, get drunk again that night to forget anything ever happened, and repeat the night before. 

It was a disaster. 

“You know,” Sanji had said one particularly awkward morning after- more to himself than Zoro, “You’d have a better shot if you didn’t ignore her completely the morning after a horrendously drunk and half-assed confession.”

Zoro had ignored him and stormed out to cut something in half but his advice- if you could call it that- stuck with him.

So here he was now, looking for a quiet place so he could rehearse what he was going to say.

What did he want to say? He paced back and forth, muttering lines he’d written down from movies or famous love quotes.

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” he’d tried, turning towards a mirror to see how he looked. 

Absolutely not. You’d definitely read that book. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul- No. No way, I’m not saying that.”

He crushed the piece of paper in his fist and opted to take a nap and have a drink, failproof support systems that had yet to fail him. 

“I don’t know, Nami,” you said, “I mean he’s been drunk every single time and it’s starting to really piss me off. 

It’s like… every time I’m stupid enough to believe it! Even though I know he’s drunk he gets so sincere for a moment or two and says stuff like ‘You're really beautiful you know that?’ or ‘I feel… a connection with you’. And I’m dumb enough to believe it every damn time.”

“And then he ignores you the next day and pretends nothing happened.”

“Yeah. It’s so weird though, ‘cause I swear- it’s like he gets possessed by rationality and calm in the midst of being a drunken idiot and he says these things with such intent! It’s jarring. I mean he goes from a moron to a Jane Austen romantic hero. What the hell is that?”

“I mean, no offense,” Nami started, your stomach churned with dread before she could even continue, “But maybe he’s just.. you know, trying to hook up. Drop some half assed compliments and hope that’s enough to get him laid.”

An uncomfortable feeling of sadness swallowed you whole. You sighed, taking a sip of your drink. 

“I know. I don’t think he’s lying about the attraction, but it would save me a lot of grief if he was just straightforward. That way I could just hook up with him and get it over with.”

Nami laughed, “Gross! You know he showers like once a week right?”

“I can fix him,” you said, laughing with her. 

The boys had caught a mountain of fish and sea creatures, so Sanji had promised you all a feast. 

Brook had started playing before the sun had set and Robin and Franky were dancing. 

You played some beer pong with Luffy and Usopp, while Nami helped Sanji in the kitchen. 

You loved nights like these, but as much as you wanted to enjoy yourself you knew that with parties and fun came booze. 

And with booze came a certain drunken swordsman promising you sweet nothings. 

You tried to focus on the game but were getting badly beat. 

You walked into the kitchen to sit with Nami who was sipping on a piña colada, special treatment from Sanji, of course.

“Make me one too Sanji-kun! Please,” you asked. 

He gladly obliged. 

The three of you talked and laughed while Sanji cooked, enjoying the music and sight of the younger boys playing with Chopper. 

The kitchen door swung open and in walked Zoro, who had been very clearly napping. His hair was matted in some places and his eyes still carried the sag of someone who’d been involuntarily woken up from a nap.

“Smelled food,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

You finished your drink and got up out of your seat. 

“Leaving, Y/n?” Sanji asked. 

Zoro turned to look at you, like he was about to say something. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m gonna go read for a bit. Thank you for the food!”

Nami shot you a sympathetic look and waved bye to you. 

Zoro sighed, not totally oblivious to the timing of his entrance and your departure. 

Sanji and Nami glared at him.

He rolled his eyes at them, “I’ll fix it.”

And he walked out to join Luffy. 

Amidst the general excitement that had spread itself throughout the crew over the course of the night was Zoro who was making his way toward the crow’s nest, in hopes of finding you. 

You were tucked into a corner of the room, reading a book. 

Your knees were up on the sofa and you seemed to be nearly asleep. 

He felt somewhat guilty interrupting you.

But it was now or never. 

He walked in, not saying anything. 

You sat up, closing your book. 

Your stomach was in a knot. 

The swordsman sat next to you, close enough that his knee touched yours. 

He was sitting up straighter than usual, and seemed restless, fidgeting with his hands until he finally set his left hand on top of your right one that was resting beside you. 

Your eyes widened, you were surprised by this, but didn’t say anything. 

“Y/n, can I tell you something? I’ve been meaning to for a while but I- Well, I’ve never done anything like this before so I fucked it up. More than once. So I’m going to fix it right now.”

You nodded hesitantly, caught somewhat off-guard by his unusual behavior. 

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped. 

Everything around you momentarily stopped as your brain tried to catch up to speed with everything that had just happened.

In an instant you were suddenly hyper-aware of everything- the strong pulse of your heartbeat, the sweat that had gathered on your palms, how you felt suspended in both motion and time as he sat waiting for some kind of response. 

But you knew Zoro, and recognized that rosy glow on his cheeks. You knew that when he approached you after midnight with unusual confidence and gusto, on a night when you’d all been celebrating. 

How he always sat next to you, closer and closer every time, this time placing his hand on top of yours. 

You broke eye contact to look down at your hands. 

“I love you, too,” you chose to interpret it as a friendly drunken slip-up, “Make sure you tell everyone else that you love them too, or they’ll get jealous.”

You turned back to your book, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, covering it up with an unconvincing smile.  

“No.”

You turned, confused, “N-no?”

“I meant it.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him. 

“I love you.”

The air around the two of you was completely stagnant, full of tension. 

He’d done this before; gotten drunk, been suddenly affectionate and touchy, and then acted completely normal the next day, even ignoring you when you tried to talk to him about it. 

You weren’t going to let it happen again. 

Scoffing, you brushed him off, moving your hand out from under his.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to ignore the disappointment that had started to spread throughout your body, “Why don’t you get some water? Or bread? But don’t do this to me again.” 

You got up and placed your book down, ready to make your way to your room and try and forget anything had happened, like he would.

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Zoro stood up behind you and turned you around to face him.

“I’m not drunk,” he started, “Last thing I’d want to do is ruin this with some kind of idiotic drunken rant. I-I want to remember this- I want you to remember this!

Everything about this- how damn cold it is up here, what you’re wearing, what I say to you, how it ends, everything.”

His hands were squeezing your shoulders, and his stare was full of an intensity you couldn’t have reciprocated if you tried.

You’d seen him before in battle- swords drawn, back hunched, and eyes settled onto his victim like a hungry animal. 

But this was different, it was vulnerable. He was being weak in front of you.  

He took a deep breath. 

You had never felt so focused in your life, your eyes were intently set on his and your brows furrowed in concentration as you took in everything about this moment. 

“I love you! I love you and- and I don’t mean it the way we say it to each other in battle, or as crewmates.

 I hate that! I hate calling you my crewmate, my friend, my companion. 

You are! 

You are, but I hate that that’s all I can call you. 

So I came to you to tell you that I love you.

Entirely.”

He brought his hands down to interlace them with yours. 

“I love you,” he said again, this time bending down slightly to level his eyesight with yours. 

He looked at you with concern, lips slightly parted.

Your breath was shaky and you had unconsciously grabbed onto his forearms to stabilize yourself while you tried to process what was happening. 

You stayed silent, your confusion as evident as his desperation. 

Another few moments passed with no words exchanged, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath- waiting for you to say anything. 

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your mind racing through the millions of different things you wanted to say.

How dare you? Are you serious? I love you too! I never want to talk to you again. I love you too! What happens now? 

Zoro’s grip on your shoulders softened and his shoulders sunk. A look of disappointment settled itself onto his stoic features and he let go of you, in a kind of heartbroken acceptance. 

He nodded, more to himself than you. 

“Goodnight,” he said, walking back out. 

“Zoro- Zoro, wait! Wait, please.”

He stopped and turned around- Were those tears in his eyes?

“I love you, too,” you said, in a much calmer tone than expected, “I have since I set foot on this ship, since I first saw you. I love you.”

His eyes widened and he picked you up in his arms, wrapping them around your waist as you sunk into his chest hugging him back with all the force you could muster. 

He spun you around, pressing kisses to the top of your head. 

You cried into his chest, and felt a tear or two fall onto your forehead when you looked up at him as he finally set you down.

“I thought that- I thought I’d fucked everything up and that-”

Zoro was rambling, his hands holding onto you again, with a grip that reassured you he didn’t want to let go. 

You interrupted him by crashing your lips into his, sending him reeling backwards.

He landed on the floor, one arm breaking the fall and the other wrapped around you.

You straddled him and deepened the kiss bringing your hands to rest on his chest as he pulled you closer into his body.

The two of you kissed and kissed, pulling away only when you were desperate for breath, before resuming again. 

When you were finally tired enough, you simply sat smiling like idiots at each other. 

“I should’ve been honest with you months ago,” Zoro said, bringing a hand up to your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. 

You grabbed his forearm, leaning your cheek into his hold.

A smile spread out over your face.

“It’s okay, I knew.”

mihawk

He’d been dreading it for weeks- months, even. 

Never in his life did he think that he’d find himself in a position of having to stay on Red Hair’s ship, but here he was. Sat at a table on the deck, an overflowing pint of beer in his hand, and Red Haired pirates laughing and swearing and drinking on all sides of him. And then out of nowhere, there was you. 

They told him you’d been part of the crew for 5 months now, a rookie pirate in need of a ship and some stability and had found your way onto the Red Force after winning several games of poker against Shanks. 

He’d had an eye on you from the moment you walked out onto the deck, in a pair of deliciously short shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves in the most alluring way he’d ever seen. 

You poured yourself a pint and played a game of blackjack with members of the crew whose name’s he didn’t know, or care to know. 

He sat with Shanks and the other officers in the crew. 

“She’s somethin’, isn’t she?” Shanks asked, laughing as he took note of his friend’s interest in you, much to his evident annoyance.

“I suppose I just didn’t think a woman like that would be on a crew like yours, Red Hair.”

“Neither did we,” Benn chimed in, earning a playful nudge from his captain. 

A sudden eruption of noise diverted their attention towards the betting table you were sitting at.

You were smiling, graciously accepting your winnings from your crewmates who were alleging cheating.

“There’s only four jacks in a deck!”

“I saw her hand moving!”

“She was card counting!”

Yasopp laughed and called you over, “Before they start swinging!”

You approached their table, weaving your way toward them through your drunk and rowdy crewmates, before taking a seat next to Mihawk, who was clearly uneasy with your presence. 

What was he supposed to do? He felt a strange desire to make a good impression on you, and realized part of him was hoping to form a friendship. His stomach churned at the unusual feeling. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever meet a legend like yourself,” you’d said to him, as you extended your hand, “Y/n, pleasure to meet you.

You’re a lot less scary in person! And a lot more handsome.”

You smelled like cherries and whiskey, sweet and addicting. 

He took your hand, despite his embarrassment at your compliments and against his better judgment followed up with, “Likewise.”

Shanks whistled, and put his arm around the swordsman’s shoulders, “Never seen you flirt before!”

The table laughed and you asked Benn for a cigarette, bending over to let him light it for you. 

“Calm down, Shanks,” you said as you puffed a small cloud of smoke, “No one’s flirting.”

He felt his chest tighten slightly, had you not been flirting? He wasn’t experienced but he figured that you had at least professed some kind of interest. 

You turned to look at him and winked. 

His chest tightened again. 

Lucky had started another card game, and you played as you talked. Mihawk asked about your life before piracy- a story for another time, you’d told him. He talked about details of his life that were unknown even to Shanks- small things like his garden at home, his favorite things to cook, and even certain details of his warlord duties. It was unlike him to share anything with anyone, but the way you stared up at him batting your big doe eyes with a cigarette hanging lazily from your plump glossy lips… he found himself unable to resist the urge to keep you interested in his presence.

The noise of the ship eventually faded into the background, the talking and laughing melting into their own conversations. 

Hours passed and eventually music started playing, some other new crew members that had brought their instruments on board with them. 

“We finally have some good musicians, don’t we Y/n?” Shanks asked. 

“Mhmm,” you replied, looking through your cards barely paying him any attention. You tapped your feet rhythmically against the floor, humming along to the quick paced flamenco melody that was playing. 

“Do you dance, swordsman?” you asked, turning to look at Mihawk.

You heard Shanks groan in the background. 

“Occasionally.”

You set your cards down, face up, revealing a winning hand. The rest of the table threw their cards down in frustration. 

“Will you do me the honors?”

A rare smile settled onto his face. He offered his hand to help you up out of your chair, and you guided him to a more open area on the deck. He placed a hand on your waist, and you took a guilty pleasure in how unyielding his grip was against you. You could feel the pads of each of his fingers holding onto your soft skin, and trailed your hand up to his face, lightly tracing a finger down the side of his neck before resting your hand on his shoulder.

People whistled and clapped. 

“Keep up,” you said.

“I’ll try.”

He appreciated your warning, you were like a different person when dancing. The cool, calculated demeanor you adopted when playing cards with your poker face perfected and your breathing steady and even, was completely washed over by a fiery intent to move. 

He did struggle to keep up at first, you slipped through his hold like water, your feet moving and landing between and around him like a downpour of rain. 

He managed to match your tempo- catch the tail end of your movements and proved a worthy partner, but he didn’t come close to matching your mastery of the art. 

By the time the song was finished beads of sweat dripped down his neck, and his heart was pounding loud enough that he could barely hear the cheering coming from the other pirates.

He wanted to give you the credit of wearing someone of his caliber out, he could take on a hundred men and barely increase his heart rate. 

This was different though- the beating in his chest, the excitement in his belly, the way his eyes clung to your figure as though attached with string. He couldn’t get enough of you, he inhaled smelling your perfume again. 

Another smile settled onto his face, one of satisfaction. 

Three week had passed and Mihawk was grabbing the last of his things- a photo of the two of you you’d forced him to take. It was of you pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Shanks lightly knocked on his door. 

“Sure you don’t want to stay another week?” he asked, awkwardly standing by the door.

“That’s what you came to ask?”

Shanks rubbed the back of his neck, “No, it’s actually about Y/n.”

This caught his attention. 

“What about her?”

“Well,” Shanks walked over to sit on the bed, “I think you should talk to her before you leave, tell her how ya feel.”

“How I… feel? And how exactly do you think I feel?”

“C’mon man, it’s obvious- No offense. The way you two look at each other? You danced with her. In front of people.”

The swordsman scoffed, but didn’t disagree and chose to maintain his silence as he packed the rest of his clothes.

“She likes ya, Hawk-eye. I think you knew that though. 

Don’t say anything if you’re gonna hurt her.”  

He got up and gave him a friendly pat on the back before heading back out, “We’re headed to a bar right now, so you’ll have the ship to yourself. Take care of her!”

It was unclear whether he was talking about the ship or you.

Mihawk sighed, he adjusted the collar of his loosely fitting white shirt, and set out to find you. 

You were in one of the common areas, one of the musicians was showing you how to play the guitar. Plucking at a few strings here and there, you laughed and sang, trying to play a song with your clearly limited ability.

Mihawk stood and watched you for a moment, before clearing his throat.

You turned, smiling when you saw him. 

“What do you think? Good enough to dance to?”

He let out a light laugh, “Maybe in ten years.”

You smiled, plucking a few more strings before asking, “What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be packing?”

“I was hoping to speak with you for a moment,” he paused when you stayed put, “Alone.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! Of course!”

You handed the guitar back to its owner, ignoring the whistles that followed you out of the room.

You took Mihawk’s arm and walked toward the deck, your stomach turning. 

You stopped at the railing, leaning over it, trying to take deep breaths of the salty air to calm yourself.

What on Earth could he have to talk to you about? Shanks had promised not to say anything… Could he possibly- 

“I’m… very appreciative of your company these past few weeks. 

You’re a very intelligent, talented, beautiful woman, and I cannot think of a better companion with whom to have spent my time,” he started, interrupting your train of thought. 

You softly smiled, a light breeze dancing around you both. 

You said nothing and only looked up at him, unsure of how to pick up from where he left off.

Luckily, he continued, “You… You are a good friend. Of mine, I mean. And I hope that my departure from this ship won’t change our proximity.”

Friend. A dull, warm pain ebbed in your chest.

It wasn’t sharp like a direct rejection would have been, it felt more like a heavy rock had been gently placed right on your heart.

You nodded, looking out toward the ocean when you felt some tears well up in your lash line. 

Blinking them away you turned back toward him suddenly emboldened by the memory of how he held you that night when you danced.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but can I ask if you hold me in any higher regard than that of a friend?”

He was silent. Color rushed to his cheeks and he stared down at you. His eyes were undersold in legend. To say they were hypnotizing was a disservice. They were compelling- when you made eye contact with him your entire being longed to be with him. 

“I do.”

You exhaled, tension lifting itself from your shoulders.

“I like you, swordsman,” you gently wrapped your hands around his, bringing his hand up to your chest, placing it against the left side, “I’ll miss dancing with you. Please visit. Please don’t forget me.” 

In a sudden motion, Mihawk wrapped you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders as he pressed you into him.

You wiggled your arms free and quickly reciprocated the hug. 

You breathed in a long, long inhale, and as you exhaled sunk even further into him. 

“I’ll visit,” he promised, “I’ll write. I’ll call- I’ll think of you always. You’re quite unforgettable, you know?”

You laughed and looked up to him as his hold on you softened.

You inched yourself up onto the tips of your toes, hovering your lips just slightly over his. 

A smile creeped onto his face, and his hands dispersed across your body, one grabbing onto your ass- something he’d longed to do since the first moment he saw you. The other hand wrapped around your waist to provide you support.

You brought your hands to the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him toward you.

His lips closed around yours, and you deepened the kiss- pulling him closer into you, your tongues swiping at each other as you closed your eyes and indulged. 

You inhaled each other- the taste of wine and mint flooding your mouth, the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses.

The strong grip he had on your ass was so deliciously indulgent. 

You let out a soft moan into his mouth before you pulled away from one another.

He tucked some stray hair behind your ears, and you gently wiped some of your gloss from his bottom lip. 

“I’ve been waiting for that for weeks now.”

He picked you up, making his way toward your room, peppering your face and neck with kisses and you laughed and kissed him back. 

“Let me make it up to you, hermosa.”

[astrolynnworld]

caught

pairing: dom!matt x reader

summary: while you’re in the shower, matt finds some hidden toys. how quick can he be before your roommate gets back?

warnings: smut! toy usage, watching you masturbate, aggressive sex, caught by roommate, praise/degradation, pet names.

word count: 1,792

i squeal as i stretch from the stale position of my nap

i look over at matt who’s on his phone playing pokémon go

“hey” i speak with rasp

“oh you’re up” he smiles at me, “dont forget that nai invited us to her house party later”

fuck i forgot. i kinda dont even really wanna go, it just feels like the type of day where you lay in bed and never get up

“do we have to go?” i ask with a frown

“come on babe, we don’t have to stay long but let’s at least show our face” he replies

“fine. let me start getting ready now” i say as i hop out the bed to the shower

———————————————————————

matt’s pov:

after i hear the shower water turn on, i get up and walk to y/n’s mirror to see how i look for this party

“i need to brush my hair” i say out loud

i look around to see if she has a brush lying around anywhere

nope.

i start checking some drawers just in case she likes to keep everything tucked away

i open the first drawer to a bunch of shirts and crop tops. “not here” i say aloud

the second drawer was just filled with all kinds of pants. “not this either” i say again

i opened her bottom drawer because maybe this would be where she kept all her beauty supplies

but i was wrong.

all I see is mass amounts of electrical toys. from vibrators to dildos to plugs.

i didn’t know my girlfriend was this much of a freak..

a million questions was running through my mind. how often would she use these? was i not doing the job? why wouldn’t she ask me to incorporate these into our sex lives?

i waited for her to get out the shower so she could do some explaining

———————————————————————

y/n’s pov:

i get out the shower, grab my towel and walk back into my bedroom.

when i open the door i see matt standing by my dressers with the bottom one open

fuck. i know he saw the freak show i have going on in there

“wanna explain?” matt exclaims, breaking the silent staring contest we had

“are you mad?” i ask, letting that be the deciding factor on what i say next

“no. i just wanna know why i never knew you were into stuff like that” he brews

“it’s not like a super big deal. i touch and play with myself when you’re not always around” i tell

he walks closer to me, “do you think of me when you do”

i look up at him and nod, i could tell that the idea of this was turning him on

“which one do you think about me the most with?” he asks dominantly

“the blue wand looking one” i say as i point to the drawer

he goes to grab it then brings it back to me, “show me how you would use it”

i freeze

“huh?” i ask

“show me. how you would use it.” he demands as he hands me vibrator

i take it out his hand and stare as he finds a seat at my desk ready to watch the show

i have never had someone watch me masturbate before but the idea didn’t necessarily turn me off

i walk back over to my dresser because im going to need a little help if im using the vibrator

i grab the pink dildo that sat at the top of the drawer and i make my way to the bed

i could tell matt was putting up a lot of resistance to not speak since he didn’t want to ruin the scene

i take off my towel and lay down flat on the bed, facing my body towards him allowing him a perfect view of my already wet pussy.

i turn on the vibrator and place it on my clit.

this wand had high sensational levels so the vibrations were strong

i start rubbing the vibrators in circles before taking the end of the dildo and tracing it against my hole

i can hear matt’s anticipated breaths fill this silent room

i start slowly trying to push the dildo in as i fail to mask my small moans

the toy was pressing against my walls at the perfect pressure

from my peripheral vision i could see matt starting to undo his pants and take his dick out into his hands

the idea of him watching me masturbate had always secretly been a fantasy of mine

i continue to let these thoughts of matt watching me flow through my head as i push the dildo deeper into me

i whimper as i feel the tip of the toy push all the way against my g spot

i continue to circle the wand around my clit as i use the dildo to pull out and push deep back inside of me

the stimulus of both these toys at the same time was always enough to set me loose

i try to fight being nosy but i couldn’t control my body movements

i start slowly grinding into the wand and toy more and more aggressively

i slightly raise my head again to check on matt and i see him stroking his dick with his foggy eyes and chest panting from breathing so hard

i put my head back down and start whimpering her name as i continue to grind into the toys

“matt oh my god” i gasp out

“please matt.”

“fuck matt you feel so good.”

“don’t stop matt.”

“nugh- matt please keep fucking me” i say on repeat

i didn’t even notice matt had gotten up from the chair until i felt his hands slowly trace up my spreaded legs

i slowly stop the grinding just to see what his plan of action is

he pulls the dildo out and tosses it to the side before sliding his own dick inside

“matt-“ i try to speak as he starts thrusting into me

“i can’t watch this anymore. i have to be the one to make you cum. i always want to be the one to make you cum” he speaks

“you’re so fucking hot and nasty. putting on that slutty show for me knowing how turned on you make me” he continues

i don’t speak. i just let the noises flow from my mouth as he pushes balls deep inside of me

he grabs the wand from my hand and spits on my pussy before putting it back on my clit and rubbing it in with the wand

“fuck your pussy is so pretty. i cant get enough of you”

i stare up at him with a fucked out expression as his dick continues to pound inside of me

he puts his other hand on my throat and bends down to start kissing me, slowly getting more sloppy.

“you’re mine okay princess? all mine.” he whispers into my mouth

“all yours” i repeat, choked out from his tight grip on my throat

he continues to thrust messily before stopping

“turn over” he echos

i flip over and lay on my stomach while arching my ass up

he slaps my ass, “so fucking sexy”

matt hands me back the vibrator so i can hold it against my own clit before sliding back into my drenched hole

“fuck you just get hotter and hotter” he says as i throw my ass back on him while the thrusts into me

the room filled with nothing more than echos of clapping sounds and moaning

matt starts pulling my hair, leaving me no choice but to tilt my head up

“look at how you sound under me. you’re so perfect for me baby, it’s like you were made for my cock” he says through gritted teeth

matthew doesn’t stop the slamming into me, making it so hard to speak. but i did find my words when i heard the front door open indicating that my roommate was back home

“ma- matt.. my room- roommate is ba- back. we need to be qu- quiet” i try to make out into a sentence

matt bends down into my back and aggressively holds my mouth as he continues to slowly thrust deep into me

i close my eyes and shudder at the stimulation that overtakes my g spit and clit

“y/n? are you ready for the party yet?” my roommate yells from the kitchen

i can’t even bother trying to function out a response to her because i knew it would give away the scene behind my room door right now

it also didn’t help that matt was starting to whisper in my ear about how slutty and nasty i am

i went fuzzy over all the stimulation, i wouldn’t even be able to conjure up a sentence if i wanted too

i just hope she doesn’t walk in here because lord knows how i would be able to explain this to her later.

matt starts whispering in my ear about how good i feel and how bad he wants to cum

my pussy starts to tighten at the incoming orgasm that we’re about to share

“baby you’re clenching around me so tight.. i’m gonna-“

the door swings open, “y/-“ she stops as she realizes the scene in front of her

i clench around matt’s cock and let orgasm out as he continues to thrust and meet my orgasm halfway

she looks horrified, i feel terrible

“fuck. i’m sorry” she says before quickly walking back out

i can’t even focus on what just happened, i continue to fuck back into matt’s cock and ride out my high as he does the same

after a few seconds of deep breaths and calming down, i fully realize what had just happened

“matt oh my god. that’s so embarrassing” i snicker out of humiliation

he pulls out and flips me over so he can get a better look at me

“to be fair we should of locked the door” he laughs back

“I DIDNT KNOW SHE WOULD COME BACK THAT QUICK!!” i say while covering my face in embarrassment

“god it’s probably gonna be soo awkward now.” i continue

“orrr.. this could make you closer!” matt says

“you’re just saying shit” i laugh

“yeah! cause the world isn’t going to stop because your roommate saw me fucking you into oblivion” he continues

i stare at him in silence

“i mean.. i was putting shit DOWN. and now she knows how you really get”

“you’re actually no help.” i say with a fake frown trying to hold back my laugh

he smiles, “whatever. let’s finish getting ready so we can go to this party”

———————————————————————

a/n- thank you guys so much for 500 followers 🥹🥹 i literally started this account 11 days ago!! love you guys so much

@bernardsleftbootycheek <33

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. inspired by @iciclesses <3

cw: mommy kink

your resolve was diminishing the longer you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself. you were wearing a spur of the moment purchase, something that caught your eye in an advertisement on instagram. as you put in your credit card information for the garments you thought it would be a fun little surprise for kate to come home to after a long day on base.

the matching set was white, a frilly little top made of white cotton that hugged your breasts, thin enough to see the hard peeks of your nipples. the neckline was low and lined with a little ruffle. it felt dainty and pretty. but the star of the set were the panties.

you didn't recall them being so. bare. a strip of white lace wraps around your hips, a patch of lace covering your mound. but what has you questioning the whole set is the two little stripes of satin that outline your puffy pussy lips. you thought it would make you feel sexy and daring. but instead you felt stupid the more you looked at yourself.

when you and kate have sex she's still usually in a sports bra and you're in a tee shirt. she's never cared for anything like this, so you've never tried. you want to scrap the whole plan of surprising kate entirely until you hear the front door opening and closing and the sounds of her kicking off her boots by the front door. she was home early.

you scramble, instead of ripping off the little pieces of fabric you grab the first articles of clothing you can find to instead put on top. you greeted kate in one of her old shirts and a pair of sweatpants you had left lying on the bedroom floor. when she greets you with a kiss to the cheeks and a gentle, "hi, honey," as she pulls you into an embrace you wait for her to notice what you're wearing underneath.

but she doesn't, she pulls away and goes back over to the entryway to hang her coat up. "i thought you were going to be home later," you commented in lieu of a greeting, "i already had dinner, but i can heat up the leftovers-"

"no need, honey, i picked up something on the way home." she interjected and you couldn't help but watch her arms as she raised them to undo her bun. "paperwork didn't take me as long as i was expecting, though." she offers up.

"oh, do you want to celebrate with a drink?" you quip. kate and you had fallen into this routine once she finally decided to quit smoking. (you use the term "quit" loosely, she just didn't smoke around you anymore. you knew she still smoked when she was gone on missions.) she would come home from a long day on base and you'd make her a cocktail.

with a hand at the small of your back she leads you to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses as you rummage around for the liquors and mixers for the both of you. you mix her a gin and tonic and something a little fruitier for yourself. she's leaned up against the kitchen across from you and when you make your way over to her she's takes the drink you offer to her in one and pulls you flush against her with a hand around your hip.

she mutters a quick thank you before taking a long sip from her drink. you giggle, "long day?"

she sighs, "you know everyday is a long one with that crew."

you giggled again, this wasn't the first time she had said something to the same effect about the guys she worked with. you hadn't met any of them, you probably never would, but kate filled you in on each one of them as much as she could. but even with her exasperated tone you knew that her words weren't unkind. she loved those men and entrusted them with her life and she with their's.

"you home tomorrow?" you inquired. you already knew the answer, of course she was home tomorrow. it was the main reason you decided to save the lingerie for tonight, a late night rendezvous. you try not to cringe at the thought of the lingerie you were still wearing.

"yeah," she takes another sip, "i was thinking maybe we could go out and look at paint samples for the bathroom."

you both were planning on taking time off soon to do some renovations to your flat. the conversation about paint colors and whether or not to rip up the tile in shower flowed easily and as you reach to grab her now empty glass for a refill kate stopped you. she reached her hand up to your shirt, finger ghosting along the ruffle of your bra that was pressed against the thin shirt you threw over it. "what's this?" she questions.

you try to think of a lie, but only for a moment. kate knows you too well at this point, can read you like a fucking book, and she knows it. her gaze is locked onto your's as she waits you out. "a bra."

"a bra?" her brow is quirked in curiosity, you won't be getting out of this one. "show me." she challenges.

you roll your eyes, trying to portray annoyance rather than insecurity while you hook your fingers under the hem of you shirt and pull it up. her lips quirk up in a barely there smirk as she runs her fingers over the smooth satin of one of the straps. "cute," she comments before taking one last sip of her gin and tonic, mostly water from the ice at this point.

you take a moment to wait for her to say something else. anything else. but as you lower your shirt all she does is press her glass into your empty hand.

cute. you knew she wasn't intending to be dismissive but as you filled up her glass for the second time you decided you were done for the night. one simple word knocking the wind out of your sails completely. you felt childish as you returned to her, she at some point had pulled out her phone and was scrolling mindlessly. you set the glass down next to her on the counter and you dodge her grasp as she tries to reach for you again. confusion tugs at her brows as you tell her you're gonna go to bed, "i've had a long day, kate."

she lets you go, easily. you don't know if it would have made you feel better or worse if she tried to stop you. or if she decided to come with you. but you find yourself in bed now, lying on top of the covers still in your clothes with the lights on, scrolling through your phone. you thought you could use this time to gather your thoughts, feel your feelings. maybe come up with something to say to her about this whole thing tomorrow. but scrolling through social media was easier.

it's not long before she joins you, though. standing in the doorway all she says is, "i thought you were going to bed."

"yeah, well," you shrug, not having any semblance of a response and not caring either. you're frustrated and your little sensitive feelings got hurt, so you try to just shut down and hope she either joins you in bed and you both go to sleep or she leaves you alone to go back to whatever she was doing.

she crosses the threshold and joins you on the bed. she lays on her side, head propped up by one her hands and just looks at you. you know she's waiting you out, again, but there's nothing for you to give to her so you continue to look at your phone.

she must realize you're icing her out because you can feel her eyes trail from your face down your body. in a moment you feel her hand reach down to your hip where your sweatpants have ridden down, exposing a hint of lace. her hand reaches for it, "hey, does this match the bra?"

you swat her hand away from you in a flash of anger, her fingers just barely brushing the lace. "it's not like you fucking care." you snipe back, sitting up on the mattress to wrap your arms around yourself.

"hey," she barks back, authority in her voice. "you've had an attitude since i walked through the door."

"no, i haven't," you retort, irritation heating up your skin. "we were having a perfectly fine night."

you know that neither of you are really in the right here. you could have said something about how her reaction upset you, but you didn't. but was she really that emotionally repressed to not see the correlation between her reaction and your feelings?

"you're right, the night was going fine until you showed me that bra and then what?" she probed and when you didn't give her an answer she kept going. "i don't even know what fucking happened with you after that."

"i tried to fucking do something nice for you, kate." you assert, feeling spurred on at the look of skepticism that crosses her face. "i tried to do something for you and you didn't fucking care enough to give me an actual response."

she gestures to your chest, "how was i supposed to know that was something for me?"

"would i wear something like for myself, kate?" you retort, incredulously. you should try to reign it in because you can see this conversation going nowhere, but your hurt pushes you forward. "i covered up when you got home because i knew you wouldn't even care."

she just sits back on her heels besides you on the mattress and looks at you for a long time. you watch her shoulders relax as she whispers, "i care."

watching the anger dissipate from her body helps you come down as well. but you still don't bother to give her a response, you just want to change out of this stupid lingerie and go to bed so you two can go look at paint in the morning.

her eyes linger back to your hip, the hint of lace that's still peeking out from your waistband. her fingers barely grazes the fabric, "can i see?" she prods.

you roll your eyes but still hear yourself say, "sure."

"sure isn't a real answer, ho-"

"yes," you all but shriek at her as she gets her nimble fingers under your waistband, exposing yourself and the lace to her. you decide to take off your shirt too, giving her a chance to look at the complete set before you throw it away.

"wow," she coos, voice gentle and soft compared to the harshness of it previously. her eyes roam your naked flesh, greedily taking you in. it's still just one word but it's in stark contrast to her almost sarcastic, cute. you try to stay mad just based on principle, but the adoration in her voice makes your insides melt.

you keep your pudgy thighs together so she can't yet see the satin adorning your cunt but she easily spreads them a part, placing her strong hands at the tops of your thighs, thumbs digging into your flesh. "oh, wow, this really was a surprise, honey." you feel utterly exposed and you, on instinct, try to clench your legs shut when you feel her press a kiss to the lace atop your mound.

"hey," she chides, crawling up your body, hooking her finger underneath the band of the bra, pulling you closer to her. your breasts spill out of the flimsy cotton as you gasp. "stop being a brat and let mommy apologize."

kate laswell doesn't fuck around. she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. she's turned you into something so easy for her and you know it, which is why you sometimes try to put up a fight. "if you're apologizing at least say i'm sorry."

she reaches up to your tits, fingers grabbing at your nipples. "i'm," she pinches your left nipple, "sorry." she pinches your right swallowing your whine of pain with a kiss. "now will you be good for mommy and let her enjoy her surprise?"

all you can do is whimper out, "yes, mommy."

"good job, honey," there's a laugh in her voice that makes heat bloom in your stomach. she liked to tease, she liked to get mean. she lowers herself back down to face your cunt. it's already slick from the pain and her teasing, wetness darkening the white satin enveloping your weeping pussy. "easy access for mommy, huh?"

"yeah," you affirm, voice whiney and high pitched. it's something that you try not to think about outside the bedroom.

she drags a thumb against your swollen clit, reveling in the gasp you let out at the touch. "so wet for me already," she observes, dragging her thumb down through your folds, prodding at your tight hole. her touch leaves you for a second before her hands are reaching under each thigh. in a moment she has you rolled up onto your shoulders with her knees on the bed and face inches away from your twitching cunt.

"that's better," she remarks before pressing a kiss directly towards your sensitive clit. your body jerks in her hold but it doesn't stop her from licking a strip from your hole back up to your clit. on most nights she's efficient, getting her tongue on your clit just the way you like it, letting you grind against the flat of her tongue until you cum. but tonight she's sloppy, spitting on your puffy lips and using a finger to spread the wetness around, her gaze never leaving your cunt. she laps at your clit as her fingers spread through your folds, two finally pushing past the tightness of your hole.

you're a mess against the mattress, squirming and trying to buck your hips against her face. your legs jerk against her shoulders and your tits jiggle with every harsh breath you take and gasp you let out.

she may be sloppy, but she knows exactly what she's doing. the finger that she has in your clenching cunt, the knuckles rub firm and tight against that little spot inside of you that makes you cream around the digits. she gets her lips around your clit and sucks causing you to wail out. her fingers are relentless, grinding inside of you as she mercilessly stimulates your clit. with a broken sob you finally cum around her fingers, body jerking and twitching against her hold.

she releases your clit and pulls her fingers from your fluttering pussy, giving your used hole a sloppy kiss. she chuckles at your whine before she grabs the backs of your calves from her shoulders, lowering your bottom half back to the mattress. you two aren't really that adventurous with your positions in bed so your hips and back ache as you melt into the mattress.

"just give me a minute," you babble, mouth dry and body still pulsing with aftershocks. "you can do whatever you want with me."

"don't worry, honey," she coos against your ear, body lying down bedsides yours. she pulls your bra back up and over your tits. the fabric presses against your sensitive nipples. "i'm taken care of."

you open your eyes and look to her face, but the soft smirk doesn't really explain much. it's then when you notice her cargo pants are unbuttoned. fuck. she leans in close, pressing a kiss against your cheek, "gotta surprise me more often."

[satlun]

Seduced in Blue: Tom Ludlow x Fem!reader

Genre: nsfw, romance Trigger Warnings: age gap (LEGAL), swear words, slurs, oral (m!receiving)

Taking care of him after a long day of his work.

Author's note: can't get enough of him so I needed to write. Enjoy guysss. *English isn't my first language.*

“Fuck...” Tom swears sharply before walking into the bathroom. “What... baby?” You mumble when you hear him swear. It's Friday morning, he's late now. Tom came home late last night and also had sex with you, that's why he can barely wake up in time this morning. You both have been dating for a year and a half. He's much older than you, you're in your mid 20s meanwhile Tom is in his early 40s. He met you one night at the bar nearby, the first time he saw you he was so attracted by you, the way you talk with other people, the way you make drinks. You're so sweet and sexy at the same time. And when you both start dating, you're like an innocent girl who is clingy with him, that's his favorite thing.

You're still lying and stretching on the bed with only underwear and your oversized t-shirt while he's dressing up. Tom looks at you through the mirror while you're stretching your legs and arms like a cat, the curves of your body just beautiful that he just wants to touch you right now but the fact that he can't. It's almost 9am. “You're looking at me.” You noticed it so you said that with a tease. You look at him through the mirror while he's doing his hair. “Can you really blame me?” He said. Tom with his uniform is the best combo actually, he looks extremely hot in it. His tight body can be seen obviously. You just don't want him to go to work at all but you can't do anything, you don't want to act like a silly kid. “I don't want you to leave.” You can't help to not say anything at all but you really really don't want to act like a silly kid. “But it's okay.” You apologized. Tom didn't say anything just noticed the way your shirt falls down a little bit, revealing your bare skin on your shoulder. So smooth and soft like he touched last night. He doesn't want to leave either.

Tom walks towards the bed and sits down on the edge. You just look at him without saying anything further. You don't want to restrain him when he's already late to work. Tom's eyes are scanning all your face and your shoulders. The way you see his eyes scanning around your body is just make you feel something. He doesn't want to leave, you're sure. His finger gently brushes your hair away from your pretty face. It's so hard for him to see you like this, he just doesn't want to leave. The way his fingers touch your face makes you want him more, more of his touch. You immediately crawl onto his lap and give him a big kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist while he's still wearing his blue uniform which is hot as fuck. Tom is almost caught off guard but he does finally grab your hip so both of your bodies can get closer even more. Tom moves his hands on your thighs while you're kissing him. His hands now rest on your inner thighs while you break the kiss so sudden, you tease him, you want him to want you more. “It was a morning kiss. You can go to work now.” He can't believe that's all you say after doing that. Who's gonna take the responsibility? You are about to move away from his laps but he grabs your waist first, keeping you on top of him. “Where are you going?” You look down at him while both of his hands are in your tiny little waist. “You're late.” You tease him more. He's already late and you're making it hard for him to leave you right now. “And whose fault is that, huh?” He asked while keeping his gaze on you intensely. “Not my fault. It's your fault that you can't resist me.” You talked back like a little brat. “Yeah? It's my fault I can't resist you looking like that, all sleepy and needy and pouty sitting on my lap?” He touches your soft cheek. His eyes burning on you. You just chuckle at him, that's all. It makes him raise his eyebrows. Look at you. When you're playful and cheeky like this he just wants to keep you all for himself only. Tom slowly moves his hand under your oversized t shirt. His skin which is so rough from working or handing a gun all the time slowly run your bare back, it makes you goosebumps. You try to speak to him without your shaken voice. “Tom, you're gonna be late and your boss is gonna kill you.” He doesn't give a shit now. The way your skin slightly goosebumps makes him satisfied. You tease him more just because you want to know that he will stop or not meanwhile you're letting him slide his big hands under your shirt. Sassy little girl. Tom smirks with the reason you gave him. “Is that supposed to encourage me to leave?” He asked.

All you do is remaining silent and shrugging your shoulders instead. You flash a little smile to him before give him a little kiss three times, just a little kiss. You kiss and you break it over and over. The third kiss is enough, he grabs your hips and pull it against his waist. You can feel his cock slightly moves under his trousers while you groan unintentionally. Tom feels your body brushing against his, he swears again. “Damn it...” you're gonna respond to this, that's what he thinks. When you hear that you just chuckle at him, you love when he swears. The way you're so cheeky makes him want you so badly. The tiny voice that comes from your throat makes him want to kiss you. You tease him by moving your body on his lap a little, just want him to feel more. “Are you enjoying this?” You act like a little innocent girl who doesn't know what he's talking about. “Enjoying what?” He is staring into your beautiful eyes. “You know exactly what I'm talking about.” He demanded. You give him a cheeky smile before leaning over and kissing his jawline. He's satisfied with that. “You act like such a brat...” you always know how to turn him on or how to make him feel good. You always know. You're his weakness. “I love when you're in this uniform.” You whisper then gently kiss his ear with one hand draw a line on the collar of his uniform meanwhile the other hand now is on his trousers and slowly unzipped it before putting your hand in his boxers. Tom can feel your soft skin rubbing around his cock which is now obvious emerging through his trousers. You turn him on now. Your thumb starts to play with the top of his cock slowly and gently. You don't need to rush. Tom groans at you. “Fuck...” his one hand places on the mattress while the other is on your waist. You really do love when he uses swear words, it's just hot. Tom now looks at you with desire while your hand is still in his trousers. “You're gonna kill me.” He said. “What should I do? I don't want to go to jail, officer.” You just call him that. You can feel his cock against your hand now. “You will go to jail for driving me insane-” he doesn't have a chance to finish the sentence, you already pull your hand off his trousers. He's caught off guard again. You make him want you and you now tease him by stopping it. You're naughty. “I will continue after you get home.” It's 9am now. “How am I gonna concentrate on my work?” He asks as if he's begging you to continue. “You can do it, baby.” You give him a little kiss on his cheek and stands up. Tom can't do anything except leave the house. “See you later.” You said.

9 hours later

Tom finally gets home after a long day of working, thinking about you as well. The way you slid your hand into his boxers earlier this morning makes him can't stop thinking about you for the whole day.

The television is playing while you're sitting on the couch, eating snacks. Tom opens the door and you look at him with snacks in your hand. “You put me through hell all day.” He said before putting down his belongings. Tom looks a little bit tired. Of course, his work needs to move a lot.

You stand up and walk towards him. “It's not just you, it's me as well.” He raises his eyebrows when hearing that. Tom notices that the shirt you're wearing on is his which is much bigger than your body. It makes you look casual than usual. You seem to hesitate for a moment, as if you want to say something and he waits. “I needed to touch myself to pretend that you're here.” You're the death of him. His eyes widened because you're driving him insane with only words. The way you're looking and speaking makes him feel so much. “Damn it...” he swears again but this time much more serious. “You're trying to kill me.” He said while keeping the stare at you and your body. “And I only have this picture of you...” You grab the picture of him in his uniform from the table and show up right in front of him. He knows what did you do with it when he went to work today. Tom looks away to breathe, he looks back at you while you're staring at him with those doe eyes again. You're such a brat. “I thought you were trying to behave yourself.” He hoped that you would stop teasing him and making him want you more while he was at work but here he is watching you acting like the same little brat he knew this morning. “You know exactly what you're doing to me.” He muttered under his breath. You just keep looking at him with the same innocent expression. “Can't help it. I'm here all alone and I only have this picture with the smell of you from this t shirt.” You look down at your shirt in case he doesn't understand. Tom can't take it anymore, he wants you so badly. He just waits for the whole day to see you and fuck you until you stop acting like a brat. His voice is low, you barely hear it from him because he always speak so softly to you. “What exactly you were doing while wearing my shirt?” He asked. He played dumb, you know. “You know it.” You demanded. He grabs your waist and pull you closer to him, you stumble a little bit before leaning in his chest. “I want to hear you say it.” He's much taller. You need to look up to him while talking. “It's embarrassing...” you act like a brat again but this time with your tiny voice. You pretend that you're shy to keep looking at him so you look away. “No. I want to hear you say it. Tell me. What did you do while wearing my shirt?” He asked firmly and moved your face to his. Your answer is silence except you grab the bottom of the shirt and show it right in front of him. There is white stain on it. “Jesus...” he groans. He can't stop taking his eyes from looking at the white stain. His mind is now imagining you doing it while wearing his shirt, the way you sit on this couch that is behind you, the way you pull up your shirt to smell his scent and the way your fingers rub on your pussy. Now all he thinks is he wants you fuck you hard. While he's imagining it in silence he notices the same white stain on the couch. You follow his eyes and say sorry, acting like an innocent girl who made the couch dirty. “I’m sorry, baby. I will clean it up...” you look back at him meanwhile he pushes you gently against the couch. You're leaning on it now. “No. Don't. Leave it right there.” You raise your eyebrows with confusion. He can't deny that he likes it, it will remind him about what did you do when he wasn't home. Tom shifts his gaze in you again. “Are you enjoying this?” He means playing with him, messing his mind up. You drive him insane like every day and he loves it as well.

You just give him a smirk which it wipes all your innocent expressions away. “So much, baby-” Tom pushes your shoulders down suddenly, so now you're beneath him, kneeling on the floor. You look up at him with confusion of his sudden action. Tom starts to unzip his trousers. You try to hide your smirk so you turn your face to the other side, Tom grabs your chin and moves your face immediately. “Look at me. Why did you look away?” He takes off his boxers, revealing his big cock which is now ready to be sucked by you. You are sitting like his good dog, waiting for some food. Those doe eyes keep staring at his cock. Tom looks at you as a sign to do something with it, not just keep staring. You slowly use your hand to wrap around it and gently move up and down. Tom moans as he still keeps his eyes on you. The way you slowly use your mouth kisses on it and give it a gentle lick. One of his hand get through your hair, wipe your hair off your pretty face. He doesn't want your hair to get dirty by his cum. Not so long that you use your tongue and your hand, you finally put it into your mouth, fully. “Fuck...” Your small mouth almost can't take it. Tom gently presses your head from the back, he moves his hip slightly to let his cock slide within your little mouth. Your eyes don't look away, your gaze remains strong and intense. He looks down with satisfaction in his eyes. “Yeah...” Tom looks up at the ceiling, feeling it inside your mouth. After a moment, he feels like he's about to cum so he moves his hip faster meanwhile you almost can't breathe because of his cock that is in side your mouth fully. “Fuck yes- Yes...” Tom moans in his throat while all of his cum was released in your pretty mouth. You slowly move your mouth out of his cock, your saliva which now is mixed with his white cum. You never try to swallow it before, usually you just let it flow out of your mouth. Tom looks down at you, noticing your hesitation. “If you don't want to swallow, you know I've never forced you to.” His soft side is back. He has never forced you to do things you don't like but this time you want to try it. Your gaze slowly look up to face him meanwhile you slowly swallow his cum into your throat. Tom notices your neck that moves a little. He knows that you swallow his cum this time. His eyes are still on you, notice your reaction. It's warm with a little bit of salty. You finally swallow all of it before wiping your mouth. Tom leans down to you and gives you a gentle kiss to comfort you. “I love you.” You say quietly as he breaks the kiss. “I love you more.” A pretty smile forms on your face, he smiles back.

END

© satlun, 2024 : DO NOT PLAGIARISM OR ANY OTHER WAY OF REPHRASING

[moonlightspencie]

wait i noticed you also tagged remus lupin?? it's okay if you don't do it but what about a lil drabble where he comes back from a full moon with a new gash that's pretty deep and he tries to hide it but he's bleeding through his shirt so you take care of him and patch him up <3

i’m barking and growling. hurt/comfort with my current favorite man??? absolutely yes

pairing: remus lupin x gn!reader

warnings: owies (blood and patching it up)

“Remus?” you asked carefully, peeking into the room he’d just wandered into.

He turned quickly, face paler than it usually would be after a full moon. He tugged his half-off jacket back onto his shoulders, but it was too late— you’d already seen the damage done. He slumped in his posture when he saw the change in your face, looking away towards the ground.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, though the wince he gave when he tried to tighten the jacket around his middle proved otherwise.

You sighed softly, approaching him.

“Can I see?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ll take care of it.”

“It looks bad.”

“It’s not.”

“Then prove it,” you challenged, knowing he was lying. It looked like the worse one he’d had in a long while. “Let me take a look.”

He flushed in embarrassment, shaking his head slowly. You merely reached out your hand, placing it on his shoulder. When he didn’t pull away, you rounded him to slowly take the jacket off of him. He didn’t meet your eye the entire time, but made a special effort when you took in a breath at the sight before you. The entire side of his white shirt was no longer white— it was completely stained red.

“This is bad, Remus,” you said quietly. “Come. Let’s go in the bathroom. This is going to need some special care.”

He begrudgingly followed you to the bathroom just down the hall, moving quite uncomfortably with the obvious pain that was radiating through him.

“Can I get you anything to help with the pain?” you asked, shutting the door as he walked inside the small room.

“No. I can manage,” he said softly. “You don’t have to do any of this.”

“Of course I don’t have to,” you began, unbuttoning the stained shirt, “but I want to. There is no shame in letting someone care for you when you need it.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“No, it isn’t. You and I both know you don’t choose to transform.”

He finally met your eyes for the first time since you’d caught him, and you gave him a reassuring smile. He didn’t smile back, but you could see a softness begin to settle over his features. You pulled the shirt over his shoulders, helping him out of it completely. You observed the gash in his side, trying to hide your own wince at the severity of it. It was a miracle he could walk back to the house at all after that.

“Remus,” you said softly in concern, looking at his face again.

His expression had soured again upon seeing your reaction, and even more as he saw the damage in full for the first time.

“M’sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t apologize. It’s just— I’ll have to clean this up before I can start the healing process. Are you sure you don’t want anything for the pain?”

“I’m sure.”

You shook your head as you moved behind him to get to the sink.

“Stubborn. I’m force feeding you soup after this,” you mumbled to yourself as you wet a washcloth in warm water.

This time, you caught a brief glimpse of a smile when you looked at him in the mirror.

“This is going to sting,” you warned.

He nodded, bracing himself with a hand against the counter top as you started cleaning around the wound. He tried hard not to react, but you could see it in his face every time you glanced up. It was a couple of long minutes before you were satisfied. You reached into a cupboard to take out the essence of dittany, giving him another, similar warning to the previous one.

You got to work, applying the essence and hearing a sharp hiss as it started doing its work.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, making sure you covered every bit of the gash.

“Don’t be.”

“You’re hurt.”

He nodded. “You’re helping.”

You nodded along with him, finally finishing. You took up the washcloth again, wiping any places you’d missed before, and ensured that you’d done a satisfactory job. You’d decided it was done well enough, at least.

“That should heal just fine,” you noted, glancing at him again.

He looked back at you with a small, grateful smile, and a glimmer of something else in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

You smiled back, cheeks suddenly a little warmer.

“Of course.”

[lacrymatoryao3]

First Time for Everything

One Shot Smut with Little Plot

Charles and Arthur awkwardly explore each other. Still working on my main fic, but also am on a Charthur jag.

1,557 Words (AO3 Link)

They needed somewhere private, but not in Saint Denis or even Rhodes. Those were still too close to Shady Belle and would risk the rest of the gang hearing rumors from locals. After hushed private discussions, they agreed to make a return to Valentine under the guise of having a robbery lead. Charles was the one to ride in first to get a room at the hotel. He wasn’t there during the shootout with Cornwall’s men, so the owner wouldn’t cause a commotion with him like he probably would with Arthur.

Arthur waited outside the town, on the side of an infrequently used trail that led to the Dakota River. He smoked two, maybe three cigarettes in a row to calm himself with his binoculars on the side of the hotel waiting for Charles’s sign from the window. As the sun set it arrived. From the upper floor in the room the owner always seemed to put people in, he saw the curtains be pulled back to block out the view of the street below.

He urged his horse forward and into Valentine. He pulled his hat down to make it harder to see his face, hoping no one remembered the great black Shire he was sitting upon. He hitched him beside Taima in front of the hotel and walked to the side of the building where there was an outside staircase to the top floor that avoided the lobby all together. Once he was in the hall the door to the room was on his immediate left. He took off his had and smoothed out his ash brown hair, taking a deep breath and lightly knocking on the door.

Charles answered with his long black hair still damp from his bath. No wonder he took so long. He put on fresher clothes, different from the weathered light blue with white dotted shirt he wore during the long and dusty ride, an outfit he started wearing when they arrived in the South. The one with the black trousers, a faded burgundy red overshirt that he only fastened at one bottom button, and a tanned leather vest that was embroidered with small colored beads in a tribal pattern in strips on both sides down the front.

Arthur just stood there, staring at the man in front of him as if he turned him into stone. He could only utter a strained and nervous “hey”.

“Hey,” Charles replied, a soft and equally clumsy smile breaking from his plump lips, “You, uh, should probably come in.”

Arthur nodded, hastily stepping over the threshold so Charles could close the door. He took off his hat and set it on a wooden chair next to a large standing mirror in the corner of the dimly lit room. His ragged satchel joined it, but not before he went into it and produced an unopened bottle of Kentucky Bourbon.

“I… Brought somethin’ for us.” Arthur said, waving the bottle to Charles.

Arthur opened the bottle and took a sip. The burn calmed the fluttering he had in his stomach, though his heart was still racing. He handed it to Charles, who also took one. They passed it back and forth until there was nothing left.

Charles set the bottle on the mantle of the fireplace. The flames caught his figure and created a blazing halo around his wide, strong, and athletic body. A golden glow washed over his dark skin. Despite having little belief in them, Arthur felt like he was looking upon an angel. His doubts possessed him like ghosts manifesting from the shadows. His heart began to race and get caught in his throat.

What if he embarrasses himself somehow? Neither of them knew what they were about to do. He had only been with women and he couldn’t even remember the last time – 5 years at least. In the world they lived in, two men lying together in the same way was seen as unnatural… An abomination to those religious type of fools.

Another thing was Arthur didn’t see himself anywhere near attractive. When he looked in the mirror all he saw was scars, blemishes where the sun he was almost always under kissed his skin, his crooked nose and chipped teeth from so many brawls, lines that set his scowls into the flesh, he still saw the stains of blood that he shed despite them being long washed away. If it came to that, would Charles even still be attracted to him when he shed his clothes?

It was only a moment that felt like an eternity, with both feeling apprehension and doubt, before Charles returned to him.

“You ready?” Charles asked, more bashfully than Arthur had ever heard from him.

“Yeah…” Arthur responded, “If you are, anyway. We don’t got to if you ain’t.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” Charles assured him, resting his large and shaky hands on Arthur’s waist. He pulled him closer, until their chests were crushed and they both could feel their pounding hearts.

Arthur nodded and breathed, “If you change your mind at any point durin’ this, tell me and we can stop…”

The air became thick as they gazed into each other’s eyes, their minds letting go of any preconceived notions they were taught by the world. Instinctually, their faces grew closer. At first their lips traced, savoring the sensation and heat of their breaths and bodies, until they pressed together. They tried to go slow, soft, building up the flame. It didn’t last very long. Arthur took Charles’s face in his hands, his thumb tracing the large scar that snaked along the right side of his face, kissing harder. He slipped his tongue into Charles’s mouth. He grasped Arthur tighter, greeting him with his own. Their faces burned with a hunger and passion neither of them expected to experience with another man.

With eager hands, Charles gently took hold of the kerchief around Arthur’s neck. He untied the knot and pulled it away, dropping it onto the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his broad chest. Arthur let out a low grown as he felt Charles’s rough, calloused hands explore his hair covered flesh.

“I’ve always been jealous of you for this…” Charles muttered, circling the bare halo around Arthur’s nipples.

Arthur chuckled, his face and ears turning a bright red, “Ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

They became emboldened enough to fully undress and joined each other in the bed. In Arthur’s arms Charles felt so warm, his plush skin hiding the hard and well sculpted muscle underneath. It excited him more than he expected, his cock beginning to pulse as it swelled. He refrained from touching it, focusing on Charles instead. He pressed his mouth to an area behind his ear, working downward to his neck.

Charles never experienced such tenderness, such attentiveness to the most sensitive areas on his body. His breathing increased, Arthur’s coarse fingers messaging his breast. His head tilted back for a moment, his throat letting out a soft yet high pitched moan. The ache was becoming too intense to ignore. He reached down, taking hold of his own cock and started to slowly stroke it. He looked down and saw how hard they both were. Arthur’s was slightly longer, but incredibly thick. The skin was pulled taught away from head, which was almost purple at the edges. From the tip, a clear fluid wept in long tears that dropped onto the bedspread. Charles took one of Arthur’s hands, leading it downward to replace his own. In return he took Arthur’s. He looked deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, pupils blown in lust.

Charles filled Arthur’s hand. With each movement his shaft throbbed, eliciting a sigh or grunt from the man it was attached to. Christ… It was the most foreign and erotic thing Arthur encountered. It wasn’t enough. He took Charles’s ass and pulled him closer, until their sensitive members brushed. Arthur couldn’t close his fingers around them both. Their hips moved in rhythm, spreading Arthur’s precum until it covered their cocks and they slid against each other with ease.

Words became rendered useless. The only thing Arthur muttered between the two men’s moans was an often unused ‘fuck’.

Charles started to buck more in his grasp, panting with beads of sweat on his brow. His cock was constantly twitching, begging, desperate.

“Arthur…” Charles gasped, “Arthur, I’m going to-”

“Come for me, Charles. Let it go.” Arthur whispered. He was dangerously close too, fighting to keep it before he was ready.

A few more aggressive thrusts, then Charles tensed. His cock erupted, his seed splattering both of their stomachs. It was joined soon after by Arthur’s. He shook, riding the intensity of their orgasms until they were spent. Arthur let go, rolling onto his back and huffing to catch his breath.

They laid in a stupor for some time, paralyzed by blissful relief. Arthur got up to fetch the towel hanging off the washing stand. He wiped Charles off first before himself, throwing it across the room. He opened his arms and Charles rolled over to rest his head on Arthur’s chest, the two embracing.

“What did we tell Dutch we were goin’ out for?” Arthur asked drifting off into sleep.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Charles replied with a soft and tired laugh.

[turnupswritessometimes]

Rookie Mistake - RE4 - Leon/Luis Oneshot

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58180393

Summary: "Secondly—" Luis stepped around him so neatly, that Leon didn't catch him in time. It wasn’t even until hands were tugging his shirt up, that he realised what he was doing. Realised his shirt had hiked up, at some point, and he hadn’t thought to fix it. "Hey!" Leon twisted, but Luis’ hands held him firm. Firmer than he’d think he was capable of. Thumbs brushed either side of his spine. "This regulation for you, sancho?" "That," he said. "Was a mistake."

(So there's this one mod...)

Word Count: 7,800

Rookie Mistake

"Wait a moment."

They didn't have time for this. They were heading through the tunnels; deep underground; he was completely lost and twitchy at having to rely on Luis. Ashley was in danger – more danger than ever – and they didn’t have time. He had to get back to her before it was too late. He knew what it was like to fight that parasite. She couldn’t go through that alone.

Leon looked back at Luis. "What?"

"Firstly—" Luis caught his shoulder, turning him to face him. It was easier to let him, than to resist. He raised his hands, and Leon looked at those splayed fingers. "You will be no help to the senorita if you have run yourself ragged."

"We don't have time."

"Secondly—" Luis stepped around him so neatly, that Leon didn't catch him in time. It wasn’t even until hands were tugging his shirt up, that he realised what he was doing. Realised his shirt had hiked up, at some point, and he hadn’t thought to fix it.

"Hey!" Leon twisted, but Luis’ hands held him firm. Firmer than he’d think he was capable of. Thumbs brushed either side of his spine. "This regulation for you, sancho?"

Leon’s stomach twitched. He tried turning again, with more force this time. Smacked Luis' hands away, though he was still aware that his shirt was still hiked up; that his midriff was on show. Aware that the touch had sent sparks dancing over his skin.

"That," he said. "Was a mistake."

That was a tattoo across his lower back. Was just sat above the line of his pants. Swirling black lines akin to wings. Usually, it was easy to forget it was even there; he couldn't see it unless he twisted around in the mirror; and he avoided that. That reminded him the mistake was permanent.

Luis leant back against the rocky wall. His arms were folded which meant, short of Leon tossing him over his shoulder, they would not be moving again in a hurry. If he wanted to save Ashley, he had to have this conversation. Luis looked smug; head titled to one side, smirking, those dark eyes looking Leon up and down. It made his stomach twist, and his cheeks prickle with heat. He hated that. Hated that he would care about what this man – this man who was untrustworthy and a stranger – thought about him.

He adjusted his shirt, tucking it in. "Does it matter?"

Luis shrugged. "I just did not see you as – that kind of guy."

He huffed his hair from his face. Tried to seem unbothered. Failed. It was always like this with the tattoo. "I'm not."

"And yet—" Luis waved a hand in the general direction of his midriff. Paused, waiting for a reply. When he didn’t get one, he tilted his head. Dark curls fell to his shoulder. "It suits you nicely.”

"Shut up," Leon snapped. "And get moving."

Though he didn't want to go first. Didn't want to expose his back to Luis again; that would be dangerous. So, he glowered until the man finally pushed off from the wall. Forcefully casual. He even whistled, under his breath, as he headed further into the tunnels.

Leon followed. His back burnt. He could still feel those hands on him. Thought about what it would feel like to feel that again. Maybe lying down; Luis above him; murmuring into his ear about how nicely it suited him.

He pushed the thought from his mind. This wasn’t the time.

The whistling was like a needling in his ear. Grating. It made his finger twitch on his handgun. It was more annoying than Luis' general chatter. And he knew what it was; it was Luis way of trying to break him; to get him to talk about the tattoo. It was working.

Eventually, he snapped, "I was still in training, alright?"

The whistling stopped. Replaced by a slow, wide smirk. "Alright?”

He didn’t want to look at Luis. He wouldn’t look at Luis. But he also knew the whistling would continue until he explained more.

"My squad - in special forces - all wanted to get tattoos together," he said. "Like – group bonding. Like, a rite of passage."

"I see, I see." Though Luis' eyebrows were still raised. "And you chose..."

"Somewhere always hidden." It wasn't enough, but it was true. He hadn't been quite stupid enough to get a silly tattoo somewhere he couldn't easily hide. Those dark eyes still watched him. "I was drunk. It seemed funny at the time."

Luis nodded. His dark curls fell forward to hide his face, and he pressed his hand to his mouth. A moment later, Leon realised why. He was laughing.

Leon pushed his shoulder. Hard enough to send him against the wall. Luis still laughed, bouncing off it like it was nothing.

"I am sorry," though he didn't sound it. He was still grinning at Luis.

Leon rolled his eyes. He felt uncomfortably warm. It shouldn't matter. It really shouldn't matter because he barely knew this man and he wouldn't want to see this man after this mission.

Would this mission ever end? He continued down the corridor, trying to listen for any bugs. Any monsters. In fact, he'd welcome a good gunfight right now, if it stopped this conversation.

“No, it’s a good joke,” he said. Snapped. They were up against a corner, and he pressed his back against it. Checked his sniper, to look around the corner with. “The pretty boy with the girly tattoo.”

He looked through the scope, instead of at Luis. Saw a blur of heat and took the shot, hearing the familiar cry of a bug.

“At the time, I thought I was in on the joke.”

He guessed he had been, until they were sober. And everyone else had guns or flags, which were equally stupid and embarrassing, but they weren’t quite as embarrassing as Leon’s.

He lowered the rifle, flicking his hair from his eyes again.

“I am sorry,” Luis repeated, and this time, he sounded like he understood. Leon wouldn’t look at him. It was another joke to him.

Leon shrugged. He continued walking; it felt like the tattoo was burning.

Their hips nudged together. Leon twitched away.

He felt fingers graze the small of his back again. Turned to snap at Luis, only to find him looking at him softly. His eyes were heavy-lidded; dark irises glinting in the low light.

"If I were you, I would not be shy," he said. His voice was low. Completely inappropriate for roaming underneath a plaga-infected castle. "It is – how you say – sexy?"

Bastard. He was a bastard, because Leon knew for a fact Luis knew that word just fine, and knew the implication. He'd said it to get a reaction from him.

"Shut up," he said, again, but it didn't have the same bite.

Because Luis was an attractive man. He could admit that. Objectively. He was very attractive and there were certainly worse men to have been chained to. Because deep down, he was already thinking about if they could meet again, after the mission. Hopefully still on the same side, but didn't think he would mind fighting Luis like he did Ada.

(Dammit, his love life was awful. How did he end up like this? He blamed Raccoon City. Everything came back to Raccoon City.)

Because Luis was being very obvious that he was attracted to Leon, and the tattoo only seemed to increase that. It made him feel unnecessarily flustered.

Luis shrugged. "I am just being truthful."

"Oh, so that's what you choose to be truthful about?" It was easy to slip into unbothered.

They had to pause, to dispose of a few bugs. It was strange, how easily they’d fallen into working with each other. Leon kicked a corpse to one side, reloading his handgun. Focused on the familiar movement of that, and not that his pulse was racing. Not that his mind was racing about what Luis would like to do with him.

"I have never lied," Luis said. "I simply operate on a need-to-know basis."

Leon almost laughed. He managed to stop it before it turned into more than a chuckle. Hated that too - that this guy could make him laugh, even when he shouldn't. They could pause here, in this alcove, and reload.

"And you think I need to know you think my tramp stamp is sexy?" Leon asked.

"Oh." Luis grinned at him, and it was like a sunbeam. "Si. Definitely."

It stirred his stomach. He looked Luis up and down, and watched his dark eyes twinkle in response; in genuine interest. Because if the tattoo wasn't secret, it was a joke at his expense; that he even agreed to it.

Now, someone found it sexy. And he liked that.

He was really flirting over the corpse of a bug monster.

"Well maybe when we get out of here, we can continue that conversation." It felt like a surrender. But he was choosing that, choosing to turn his back on Luis as they continued, and knew it was an invitation.

An invitation that was taken. He was there, immediately, his hands tugging Leon’s hips back to him. His thumb pressing over Leon's spine; the centre of the tattoo. "I like the sound of that, amor."

His breath caught involuntarily.

He didn’t move. Didn’t stop Luis from tugging his shirt up again, and let his fingers press over the tattoo, edging round to his hips. His touch was light, and that made it even more unbearable. Made it an effort not to make any embarrassing sounds.

Maybe he didn’t mind surrendering to this man.

He caught Luis' wrists, gently. Felt warm breath against his ear, lips just grazing the side of his neck. His heart hadn't stopped racing since he'd gotten out the car the previous night, but it pounded more heavily now.

There was another skitter from somewhere above them. Another bug. And that made Leon remember the monsters. The plaga. Ashley.

He was flirting whilst Ashley was fighting for her life. Terrified.

"We have to go." He let go of Luis' wrists. Stepped away.

And to his credit, Luis took it in his stride. He chuckled, matching his step down the stairs and tugging out his own gun.

"Later, then."

Which seemed like another reason to make it through this.

Even if it was as embarrassing a one as that damn tattoo.

*

Leon sat at the bar alone. Whiskey on the wooden top in front of him. He was trying to pace himself with it. Had to pace himself with it, because there was every chance he'd be sat here by himself all night. Every chance this was a trap, and if it was, he needed to have his wits about him.

He'd gotten the comms message through a week ago. It was unbelievable. Luis Serra, back from the grave.

His first reaction had been livid anger. At first, he was only going to the meeting suggested to pick a fight. How dare he let Leon think him dead – how dare he have the gall to say, "Fancy another dance, Prince Charming?" Instead of explaining anything.

But the rage settled. Alright, so Luis was alive, and he'd found out Leon was too. They were both alive. That was a miracle. After everything, after Luis saving his life, he couldn’t hold Umbrella against him. He’d repented for those sins. And couldn’t Leon have just as easily fallen into a trap like that.

So here he was, waiting for that man, in a small, seedy bar downtown. It felt like he had a target on his back; like he was waiting to be shot.

He'd been there half an hour when someone settled into the stool next to him. That familiar smell of cigarettes; like he really was a ghost, and his smell was proceeding him. He glanced across to see that familiar leather jacket; a glimpse of dark curls.

"You made it." Leon spoke to the glass in front of him. He couldn’t seem too eager.

"So did you," came the reply. That familiar, uncaring lilt. "Not that I doubted you, sancho."

Leon glanced at him, properly this time; Luis looked drained, dark smudges under his eyes, his curls a little lank. Then again, Leon couldn’t say he was fully recovered, either. And he wasn’t a wanted man.

"Well, no offence, but I had my doubts about you," Leon said.

Luis laughed. Ordered a whiskey on the rocks too, and Leon was very glad there was a group at the other end of the bar. They were clearly regulars, keeping the bartender occupied. The less notice they could attract, the better.

"It was a very close thing." Luis leant an elbow on the bar, and it brought them that inch closer together. Leon was sure he could feel the heat coming from him. "Thanks to your first aid."

He'd done the best he could. His hands had been shaking, from the fight with Krauser; from the shock; from the very fact that he needed them to be still.  He'd done what he could, with what he had. He’d thought it wouldn’t be enough.

"Well, you saved me," he said. Evenly. Took a swig. It seemed safer to, now, especially now it wasn't a trap.

"Oh, you would have been fine." Luis smiled at him, and it made a warmth settle in Leon's stomach. Those eyes were the same; like black coffee. "Surely, you were, no?"

"Eventually." Though he had been hung from the side of a cliff. And, because Luis was chuckling warmly, he pressed on, "How'd you get out of the castle?"

"Can I not keep a secret? Seem more mysterious?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Was it Ada?"

"If it was?"

He'd seen those emails. He knew they were working together. At the time, he hadn't even felt betrayed. It had explained everything; it had seemed inevitable. Only hurt as much as poking an old bruise. Luis' answer confirmed his theory.

Leon nodded.

There was a pause. They both took another sip. This thing sat between them. The thing from the tunnels. The flirting. That Leon had said they’d continue from there. This was the offer, returning.

"The senorita?"

"Home safe. You knew that."

"Por sorpuesto. What I do not know is if you still see her?"

She'd asked Leon to work for her. He thought about that, and how he'd known he couldn't. It would be like keeping a wolf for a pet. Still, "We said we'd meet, every month, for lunch."

Because he liked Ashley. She was sweet girl and she'd been through hell with very minimal complaining. Because he'd enjoyed spending time with her even when there was the imminent threat of death, so it would probably be even better when they weren't about to be killed.

"Ah, very sweet." And it seemed to answer Luis question. There was nothing there. She was a little sister to him.

Leon thought about saying that she'd like to see Luis too. She probably would. But they weren't here to talk about Ashley. He took another swig, and waited for Luis to get to the point.

"So, you learn your first aid skills before or after the..." He waved his hand to Leon's midriff. He couldn't help glancing down the bar, as if the men down there would know what they were talking about.

"You're not funny," Leon said. Paused. "The...happened just a few weeks into training."

"You were the black sheep, eh?"

"The kid who just graduated from the police academy dropped into the special forces by the president himself?” Leon swilled the amber liquid around the glass. “I fit right in."

Luis chuckled. His shoulder nudged Leon's, and he found himself nudging back. He still felt that spark. That hadn't changed. Luis thought he was sexy, because of that damn tattoo. And Leon still found himself attracted to him; to the smirks and glinting eyes and smell of cigarettes and leather.

"What about you?" Leon asked. Couldn't believe he was asking. He supposed he wasn't as scared of the answer now. "What about – Umbrella?"

Luis did pause then, and it gave him a jolt of satisfaction to not be the one on the backfoot, for once. He took a swig of his drink, and rolled it around his mouth. "You really want to know?"

Leon knew he should say yes. It could be important in figuring out their next move; what Ada was up to. But he also didn't want to know. It was acknowledging that, by all accounts, he shouldn't have trusted Luis in the first place.

"Suppose not," Leon said. "So, why'd you ask me here?"

"You and I both know why I asked you here, sancho."

Was he really still the sancho? It seemed like Luis was only saying it to irritate him. He wouldn’t rise to it. Not this time.

Leon finished his drink. It still burnt his throat on the way down, and sounded much too loud when he put it back on the wood of the bar. He looked at how the dingy, yellow light reflected on the rim. He did know. He was the one who'd suggested it. A night together; forget Umbrella and the military; forget the Plaga and the zombies. Still, now that the proposition was in front of him, he felt – oddly self-conscious. Too aware of what Luis was here for, and what he was expecting from Leon.

Not that he would ever say any of that.

He leant his chin on his palm, instead, and raised an eyebrow at Luis. Like he was unbothered. “That all, huh?”

Luis' dark eyes sparked back at him. He still smirked, letting his gaze graze over Leon. His skin prickled at the attention. “That’s all.”

Leon raised an eyebrow in return. Looked pointedly at the glass in Luis' hand. His smirk widened. He finished the drink, tossing the golden liquid back. His Adam's apple bobbed with the motion.

Leon's stomach squeezed in answer.

He still waited. Knew that he could say no and walk out. But he didn't. The more he sat with this man, even now the tide of relief had subsided, the more that attraction – that pull – was back. The more he did want to see where this went.

Luis stood, untangling himself from the stool. He stepped past Leon, fingers just grazing the back of his shirt, as he passed. Just over where the tattoo was.

Leon followed. Like a dog, he supposed. Tried to walk casually, though his heart was pounding in anticipation. Back out of the bar, and down the street. It was a warm evening, with a light breeze.

Luis lit a smoke, as soon as he was outside, and Leon tried not to watch him too greedily. But it was captivating; the way the smoke curled from between his lips; the uncaring way he took a drag. The way car headlights made his skin bronze, when they passed.

They paused, after Luis had stubbed it out under his boot, and when they were stood in front of a small hotel. A nice enough one, not the beat-up one around the corner.

"I have a room here for the night," Luis said. "I do not suppose you would like to join me?"

"For the night?"

"Si."

Leon pretended to think about it, as if there was any question. He'd met him at the bar, and that had been the answer from the start.

He smiled. "Sure."

As if he was unbothered. Tried to seem unbothered, as he followed Luis into the hotel and up the stairs. As if he wasn't fazed by the proposition; as if he did things like this all the time, when he was more used to gunfights.

The room was nice. Clean and white and comfortable. Leon closed the door by leaning against it with his back. Watched Luis flick on the bedside lamp, and look over his shoulder to find he hadn’t moved. His hair cast shadows over his skin; a curl sat just over the curl of his jaw.

Luis smiled, a dark eyebrow twitching up. "You alright, bello?"

Leon nodded. The monsters suddenly seemed easier to deal with; his body knew how to shoot a gun. Knew how to start with that; didn’t realise he’d forgotten how to start this.

Luis chuckled, under his breath, and stepped forward. Like he could see right through him. "Plaga infested castle, and yet you're nervous of me?"

"I'm not nervous," Leon said.

Luis' hands grazed his hips, palming the shape of them, and Leon pressed into the touch. Ran his hands over Luis' wrists, taking a breath.

"Of course you're not." Luis' voice was like a purr. His hands lifted higher, just raising the hem of Leon's shirt. His fingers brushed bare skin, and Leon thought about those hands on that gun of his – pressed further forward. Hated that he paused there.

Luis chuckled, and closed the gap. Kissed him confidently – firmly – and Leon let his mouth fall open; let Luis’ tongue press against his. His hands slipped to Luis' back, his fingers splayed over his leather jacket. He could smell it, underneath the smell of his cigarettes, and it made him heady. Luis pressed closer; a leg slipping in between his, just as firmly.

His breath caught.

Luis nipped his bottom lip, as he pulled away; just a hair's breadth. "Been a minute, huh?"

He nodded. Was it really so obvious? "Don't get a lot of time for…"

Luis' leg shifted and he felt a spear of arousal. He was being teased, and he should hate that; should hate Luis' soft chuckle in response. Should hate the soft way he kissed the corner of his mouth.

"You are not beating them off with a stick?" Luis brushed Leon's hair from his face, his fingers lingering over his jaw. "Truly?"

"What about you?" Leon asked, because that was easier. Easier than thinking about how it felt impossible to get close – truly close – to anyone, after Raccoon City. His lips grazed Luis' stubble. "Don Quixote?"

Luis only chuckled again; perhaps he had the same problem. He kissed at the hollow of Leon's jaw, teeth grazing skin, and Leon pressed him closer. Buried his hand in those dark curls, and kept him there. Luis' leg shifted again, and he felt another curl of heat. It was a relief when his shirt was tugged high, just under his ribs, because he was warm. Very warm.

Luis' hands moved over his waist, his fingers pressing over where the tattoo sat. It sent sparks dancing across his skin, and he pressed down against Luis' leg. Felt, rather than heard, a moan against his neck. His fingers tightened in those dark curls, breath catching.

He let Luis peel his shirt off, if only because it gave him the chance to catch hold of Luis' leather jacket, ready to ease it off.

Luis caught his wrists before he could. Tugged it free himself, and stepped away. It left Leon pressed against the door, feeling needy for that warmth again, his heart racing. He watched Luis place the leather jacket over the chair in the room, reverently, even though Leon's own shirt was in a puddle on the floor.

"Seriously?" he asked.

Luis looked over his shoulder at him. He didn't let himself look over his body; at how he could see the shape of his chest and waist now. He raised his eyebrows. "This jacket is a work of art. She should be treated with respect, alright?"

Leon raised his eyebrows back, crossing his arms. It felt like a shield; he couldn't decide if he wanted one or not. Because he wanted this; was attracted to Luis, was already aroused. But the skin on his back was prickling, and he still felt too aware of himself.

Luis laughed. He stepped forward again, and Leon did glance down him, now. Had the satisfaction of seeing the bulge in the front of Luis' jeans, and knowing he was not alone.

"No need to be jealous," Luis murmured, tracing his fingers over Leon's arms. Just lightly enough to raise the hair there.

"I'm not jealous of a jacket." Though he still stared at said jacket. It was easier than those dancing, black coffee eyes.

Those hands untangled his arms. Gently. He let them fall. Let Luis' fingers nudge his chin back to face him, his thumb rubbing over his chin.

"Very sweet," Luis murmured, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I'm not sweet." But his hands were catching Luis' waist again, and he was pressing away from the door. The air-con was cold on his skin.

"Si." Luis' fingers brushed his hair back again, even as he guided him across the room, walking backwards. "Not nervous and not sweet."

"Shut up."

Luis lifted his chin up, smirking. "Why don’t you make me?"

Leon tugged them flush against each other, crashing their mouths together. Heard a satisfied sound from Luis as he kissed him back; pushing his tongue against Leon's. He carded a hand through the back of Leon's hair, another feeling his bare shoulder. He was busy exploring under Luis' own shirt. His skin was warm; soft, his back arching against Leon.

He lost track. There was only Luis' mouth and tongue and heat against him. Only his hands grazing over Leon's bare skin, and his heart racing in his chest. Then Luis was tugging him down onto the bed, and they were creasing the tight, white sheets with their weight. He tugged Luis' shirt free - he wasn't so reverent about that - and pressing their bare skin together. It increased that heat, between them. Luis' arms looped around his neck; he kissed over his cheekbone. Grazed his teeth there and Leon let out a soft sound. Felt Luis smile against him.

"Shut up," he said, again.

Luis lay back on the sheets, under him, dark curls spreading across the white.  His teeth flashed when he smiled. "I did not say anything."

Which he didn't. Leon still wanted to frown at him, though. Because he looked very handsome on those sheets, and it was making his heart stutter; because it was better than being soft. He couldn’t start being soft.

"Still," Leon repeated.

Luis chuckled, his knees pressing into Leon's hips. He bit his lip.  Held out until Luis' nails dragged up his sides; it sent a spear of heat through him, and he hated that a whine came from the back of his throat.

His cheeks burnt. He kissed Luis, forcefully, so that he didn't have the chance to say anything about it. Nipped at Luis' bottom lip and felt his fingers dig into Leon's skin. Kissed over the stubble of his jaw; it scratched his nose and mouth, and he loved that feeling. That feeling made his face tingle.

"Here," Luis murmured into the soft skin of Leon's neck. His hands pushed his chest. Leon resisted, for a moment, just to show that he could. Let Luis turn him over – his back hit the sheets – and settle over him. Their hips pressed against each other and the friction of their jeans made Leon's breath hitch. Fingers traced down his chest, slowly; teasing again. "Let me take care of you, bello."

His voice was so soft, like a purr, that he gave in. That he tangled his fingers in Luis’ curls again, and let him kiss his throat and collarbones as he eased his jeans open.  Paused, just after he did, pressing a palm against the interested bulge there. Leon's hips bucked against it – he tightened his free hand in the sheets.

Luis pressed a chaste kiss against his chest. It felt like a reward. Luis was the sweet one, but he didn't have the breath to tease him about that. Could barely think when those long fingers were tugging him free of his pants. Were twisting around him artfully; well-practised. He bucked his hips into the touch on instinct, desperate for the touch.

Luis shushed him, still gentle. Thumbed over the head of his cock and Leon saw stars. Tangled his fingers in more of those dark curls. He pressed his mouth into Luis' shoulder, and felt Luis' hand tug in reaction. Firmly.

"Goddamn," Leon gasped.

 "You really are happy to see me, eh?" His hand was still moving. Not firmly enough to create real friction. Just enough to get him to want more.

"Better here - than - those tunnels," he managed to reply.

Luis laughed, and it seemed genuine. His touch paused, and that felt like torture. Leon's hips raised upwards, and he took hold of the bedframe behind him to help angle himself.

"Oh, I don't know," Luis murmured. "It had atmosphere, no?"

If Leon had any breath left, he would have laughed. But Luis' thumb rubbed over that spot again, and his breath came as a sharp hiss. He tightened his thighs against Luis' hips, hating that smile. He gritted his teeth.

"You're gunna – either have to – stop that," he managed to say. "Or - finish."

Luis stilled his hand, tilting his head to one side. "You don't think you can go twice?"

His neck felt flushed. "Been a minute."

And he just knew, from Luis' dangerous smile, he thought that was sweet. Bastard. But he did let go of him, undoing his own jeans. Leon shifted lazily, kicking the rest of his off; kicking his shoes off, even as he burned. Should still feel self-conscious, but his body had warmed up now. Now his mind felt half-drunk on this intimacy. On Luis Serra's soft, soft voice murmuring that he'd take care of him.

"The bedside drawer," Luis murmured. Kicking their clothes from the bed. Their shoes landed in a collection of thumps. Leon didn't let his gaze linger on the scar; the tight, raised rope across his chest. He turned his attention to the drawer, pulling the bottle out.

Paused.

"What was your idea of how this would go?"

Their legs were still tangled, and Leon was still throbbing with need, but it had subsided enough to think a little more clearly.

Luis' hand shifted up his side, and Leon bit his lip to stop from sighing. "You'd let me choose?"

Yes, because it was easier than saying it himself. Leon shrugged. "You saved my life."

Luis kissed him, open-mouthed. Stayed there to murmur, "You saved mine."

"Still." Still, he was aware that his back was against the sheets. Aware that Luis liked the tattoo there, and he liked that Luis liked it. Made it feel like it wasn't a mistake.

But he couldn't articulate or admit that. Absolutely not.

“I said I’d take care of you.” Luis' black coffee eyes glinted at him, in the low light of the bedside lamp. He leant closer, until his lips were just grazing the shell of Leon's ear. "I thought about watching those wings of yours take flight."

His stomach clenched, and he dug his fingers into Luis' skin. It gave him away, even if he said, "That can be arranged."

Luis saw through him. Of course he did. He chuckled, and nipped Leon's earlobe. It sent a spark through him. He dropped the bottle, breath burning his throat.

"Oh, gracias, senior," Luis murmured. He caught the bottle, flicking it open and squeezing it over his fingers. "So kind of you."

"Screw you." But Leon's hips raised, ready, his core throbbing.

Luis actually winked. "Oh, we will get to that, do not worry."

Leon opened his mouth to snap back; just as Luis slipped a finger inside him. His breath stuttered out, instead. He closed his eyes, so he didn't have to see that smug, satisfied smirk. He rode that spear of pleasure, tangling his legs around Luis', and tugging him closer by his dark curls. Nipped at Luis' shoulder as he started to move. A steady, easy pace. Taking care of him. He felt like he was going to burst.

Luis' breath was hot against his throat. His breath rumbled, as he murmured, "Hey, hey - look at me?"

A thumb traced a line under his eye. It was a huge effort. Especially because Luis was still moving; Leon's hips twitched in that rhythm, seeking more. But he did. Was rewarded with a wide smile; his teeth flashing in the low lamplight.

"That's my boy."

He tugged Luis' mouth to his own to try and disguise the whine that came out of him at that. It wasn't successful, he felt Luis' chuckle against him. Even as he pressed another finger in.

Leon felt like he was coming undone. Watched the light glinting in Luis' dark eyes; the way his curls twitched as he moved; that soft smile as he worked; as he started to unravel him. He hung on to the bedframe behind him, blood roaring in his ears. Heard his own voice whine out, "Luis…"

Luis kissed him, softly, as a response. Continued moving; curled his fingers and Leon cried into his mouth. He felt clenched; primed like a bomb.

"Luis – I need—"

"What do you need?" Luis murmured.

"Dammit." He could barely think of words; and especially the words he knew would get him what he wanted. Did want that.

“Tell me.”

"You."

And he even got the strength to meet his eye, even as he fought for breath, his chest heaving. It was like a fight, and he was losing. Fine, he’d lose, if he could get some relief. If he could get another spear of that fantastic pleasure.

Luis brushed the hair from his face. His fingers sparked, where they touched. "Dios mio, you're…"

His hand stilled. It gave Leon enough of his mind back to ask, "What?"

“Here,” Luis murmured. His hands found Leon's hips again, thumbs digging against the bones. Eased him round, and Leon obliged. He thought he'd do anything Luis told him, if he’d make him feel this good. His knees sunk into the sheets and his need felt even worse; even heavier; in this position.

A good worse, he thought, as those hands felt over his waist; his hips; his ass. He heard Luis' moan, and looked over his shoulder, through his hair. It was actually nice to see Luis look flustered; a dark blush on his throat.

"Everything you wanted?" His voice came out low; rough. Because the tattoo would be full on show, now. Luis would have a view of it, like a black flag, just between his hip bones.

Luis' fingers tightened. "Oh, and more, amore."

Leon had to let his head fall back onto the pillows, catching hold of the sheets. It was the soft way he said it; the way his fingers grazed over his thighs, getting the downy hair to stand on end.

Teasing.

"Luis."

"Si, si, patience." He had to wait for another caress, shifting his head so that he could still see Luis’ out of the corner of his eye, before he finally felt Luis pressing into him. He keened, arching into it, and heard an answering sound from Luis. He wondered how the tattoo moved with the motion. His hands steadied him, as he began moving. Much too slowly.

It was lightning. It sent a wave of heat and desire through him at every move. Leon bit the side of his hand to stop from mewling like a cat. It was just the right side of overwhelming; especially when he was already so aroused. When his own cock burnt between his legs, and he didn't think Luis would even need to touch him there.

"Hey – hey—" Luis' breath was heavy, by his ear. His curls tickled between his shoulder blades, and just that sent shivers over his back. Kept moving, his pace increasing, just a little. "Can I hear?"

Leon made a sound of protest. Squeezed his eyes shut. His teeth made a dull ache on his hand; if he wasn't careful, he would break the skin.

Luis paused. A shaky hand brushed Leon's hair back from his face; grazed his wrist. "Hey – Prince Charming?"

Maybe it was the nickname; the nickname made him feel like he was floating. He did pull his hand away then, his breath so heavy it hurt his ribcage; burnt his throat like fire. "Don't stop. Please."

Maybe Luis planned to tease him again. Surely he did. But instead he kissed at the join of his shoulder, his tongue scraping there, his teeth nipping. Leon whined, and the fingers on his wrist tightened.

It was embarrassing. It was embarrassing for Luis to hear him; it was easy to give in, when he was being so soft. When him being soft made him realise he liked this; liked Luis wanting to hear him. When his whine was answered with Luis moving twice as fast as before. When he heard Luis' answering sounds, from above him.

The embarrassment added to it.

He bucked his hips, chasing that friction and that fire, and wondered if the tattoo was flying like Luis had hoped. From the fingers pressing into the hips, he thought so. He braced his forearms on the bed, his hair back in his face, staring at the lamp with blurred vision. He matched Luis' rhythm. Beat it, and Luis' gave a long, low moan.

"Bueno," he murmured. Dipped his head to kiss at Leon's shoulder. "Muy bueno - my good boy. My good, good boy."

If he was in his right mind, he would snap that he wasn't Luis' boy. His mind had left him, entirely, though. Instead, it sent a spike through him. Luis' boy.

If Luis made him feel like this, he would be Luis' boy.

He would only whimper a string of his name, twisting his fists in the sheets. Letting Luis hear every embarrassing sound.

"You can let go." Luis' mouth moved against his shoulder blade, his hands firm on his hips. "Let go, Leon."

He did; as Luis thrusted into him again. Cried out, and Luis answered as he finished. Leon fought for breath, as he came. The heat and the need subsided, and his mind could only fizz, like a disconnected wire. His strength gave out, and he fell against the sheets. Felt Luis over him, their skin burning where they brushed each other. Felt his dark curls against his back. Felt his hand search for Leon's, and fit over it. Squeezed. He felt his heavy breath; felt the movement of his stomach and chest as he recovered.

"Dios mio," Luis whispered again.

Leon took a heavy breath. Managed to murmur, "You can say that again."

Luis chuckled. Kissed at the hollow of his jaw and Leon made a soft sound in response, words failing. His hands found Leon's hips again, as he eased himself free, and it sent another whine from his throat; he couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain anymore. He shifted. Suddenly, it was hard to keep his eyes open. His energy had drained.

And yet, his mess was all over the sheets; over himself, now that he’d fallen into them. He was uncomfortable, and he needed to make himself move. He caught the back of Luis' neck, as he tried to get upright, and pulled him down for another kiss, his lips clumsy.

He searched for the right words through his misty brain. "You're – fantastic."

He felt Luis smile.

"Oh, I try.”

*

Luis was smoking.

Leon didn’t see how he even had the energy to sit upright, after that. He’d barely had enough energy to shower; to get rid of the messy sheets. He lay back, under fresh sheets, his energy drained. He watched Luis’ profile; he’d tied his hair back, so only a single dark curl fell by his ear. Watched his lips around that cigarette, and swore he could still feel them on his shoulders; his neck.

His heart wasn’t racing, but it still thudded heavily in his chest. His mind couldn’t do much more than spark, and it was an effort to keep his eyes open.

Luis glanced at him sideways. “Turned into Sleeping Beauty now, eh?”

“Shut up.” But he didn’t have the energy to move properly. He flapped an arm at Luis, and he chuckled. It was that charming chuckle that made his stomach twist.

His mind went on a tangent, because of that chuckle. Imagined if they were both normal; if he’d really been just a cop; if he’d gone on vacation to Spain, one time. If he’d met this Spaniard and had a fling with him. Just a fling. Without any of the complications of his job, or Umbrella.

Luis looked down at him, properly, his cigarette still between his fingers. The smoke curled in a ribbon, towards the ceiling. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” Leon wasn’t about to share that fantasy. The beers in the sun and the cool of the pool after a humid heat and the soft romance of it all. That would be too much. “I’m good.” He paused. “I’m beat.”

It was a poor choice of words and Luis’ smirk let him know that. He raised an eyebrow, but maybe he was tired too, because he didn’t make a joke. His eyes were soft.

“Your problem is you’re too tense.”

That was probably it. His muscles felt loose; like he’d just finished a workout. Completely drained, but in the best way.

“I wonder why,” he replied. Stretched a little, just to enjoy the ache in his muscles. It had been a minute, and he liked that it was Luis Serra who broke that streak. “Aren’t you?”

Luis raised his cigarette, twisting it slightly, and Leon chuckled. That was one way not to be tense.

He brushed his hair from his face – it was still damp from the shower – and kept his arm up, as Luis stubbed out his smoke on the ash tray. The smell lingered. The window was open, just slightly, just enough to get a breeze to catch the drapes. It was truly dark outside, now, only an amber streetlight outside fighting against the indigo blackness.

Leon listened to the roll of the cars passing. It was soothing. If cars were passing, that meant the city was still alive. He always slept easier knowing that; when he slept at all; guessed that was probably another reason why he was so wiped now.

Training had been harder. The deep breathing of other people sleeping was too much like the constant heaves and groans of those things in Raccoon City. Leon wasn’t letting himself think about how it would be to sleep next to Luis. He’d embarrassed himself enough, without having a night terror.

Embarrassed himself enough.

Damn, he had. Had mewled and whined and wanted Luis to call him good boy again. He bit his lip, frowning as though that would help soften the memories.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Luis said. His leg nudged Leon’s. “I am trying not to be worried, but…”

Leon shook his head, like that would be enough. Another car came by, the white lights illuminating the room for a moment.

A hand nudged his arm down. Gently. If he really wanted to, he could resist. If he really wanted to, he could start an argument about it. Deflect. Instead, he let Luis nudge his arm down. Looked up at him, and his dark eyes were soft, and searching. That made it worse; that he really cared.

He twisted his lip between his teeth, to feel the sting. “It’s not you.”

A dark eyebrow twitched higher; that wasn’t enough of an answer. Leon took a breath. Shrugged, and even his shoulders ached. “I just – guess they were right about me.”

“Because of the tattoo?”

Leon found himself smiling, just a little. “Must be a slut, right?”

Luis shifted. Lay down, on his side, so that they were on the same level. So their legs brushed against each other’s and he felt a rush of warmth. Luis traced the line of his collarbone.

“I did not think you would be bothered by what anyone says about you.”

“I’m not.” It was automatic. Just like not being nervous. Not being sweet. He reached up, twisted that dark curl around his finger. Easy to be intimate, now. “But some things – stick.”

They stuck when Krauser insisted on calling him pretty boy, with his mouth twisted like it was swearing. They stuck when he was trapped in basic training, and the comments were constant.

Luis’ hand settled over his chest. Could he feel his heartbeat? “And you know why they said that, don’t you?”

“Are you going to tell me it’s because they fancied me?”

“Maybe they did.” And when Leon rolled his eyes, Luis kissed him. Slowly. “Maybe they were jealous.”

Leon snorted. He got another kiss for that, Luis holding his chin steady. He tangled his fingers in Luis’ hair, his stubble rubbing against his mouth. That was a cliché, and it didn’t help wash the words away.

“Then they’d probably be jealous of you right now,” he murmured.

“Ah, of course.” Luis’ tongue traced over his bottom lip. “Then, I count myself a lucky man.”

Leon did laugh, genuinely, and that seemed amazing, just after feeling like that. That Luis could distract him. His hand trailed down, over his neck. His finger just grazed that spot. That raised scar. His heart stilled.

Luis shifted his wrist, moving his hand away, and it subsided the panic again. He pressed closer, barely pulling his face away. That was fine. Leon stared into those dark eyes. Luis was a lucky man. He was lucky, because he was here, with him.

“You know, I take it all as a compliment,” Luis continued. Leon pushed his chest in protest; immediately slipped a hand around to the small of his back to pull him closer, because Luis was alive. “I know you are having a good time, you know?”

“And did you?” Did he see those wings moving?

“They do not know what they are missing.” Luis murmured something in Spanish, too low and too fast for Leon to make out. He only registered another long, slow kiss, and felt his remaining energy draining from him. Wanted to stay here, in Luis’ arms, where he didn’t have to unpack any more of those feelings.

He suspected he would have to, in the morning. He suspected he’d remember and they’d have a similar conversation all over again. Maybe he’d even have to say more. Leon closed his eyes. He was allowed to keep them closed, this time.

“I’m really glad…” he murmured, already feeling himself slipping away. Another car passed. The city was still alive. “I met you, tonight.”

A mouth pressed against his forehead.

“Me too, mi corazon.”

[rottenpumpkin13]

Eating Me Alive

desc: Angeal comes to terms with his reflection while Sephiroth and Genesis mock their own.

cw: body dysmorphia, mentions of body hate, blood.

wc: 2036

As far as Angeal was concerned, Genesis would have been a happier man if he bit the bullet and married the mirror once and for all. Or at the very least he could've sunk his teeth into the glass and eaten the damned thing.

He would nearly press his nose up to his own reflection, eyes hungrily searching for blemishes, scars, and freckles to condemn.

“My nose would fit my face more if it were just a little bit more upturned,” Genesis said, stroking the bridge of his nose with his index finger. His eyes never left his mirror image. “Don't you think so?”

Angeal sat on the toilet seat with one leg pulled up, bracing his head.

“Your nose looks fine, Gen.”

It was as good as comforting a brick wall. Genesis huffed, making an unsatisfied sound as he turned his attention to his lips. “You know who has no reason to despise their lips at all?”

Angeal mouthed ‘Sephiroth’ to himself before Genesis could answer his own question.

“Sephiroth.” Genesis traced his bottom lip, pouting it as he examined the left side of his face. “His lips are perfect.”

Genesis' words managed to be prophetic when he didn't mean for them to be—a fact that would've gone straight to his ego had Angeal made him aware of it.

“Shall I take that as a compliment?” He asked.

Sephiroth appeared in the bathroom door the very same second. His hair was pulled up in a knot, displaying—to Genesis' chagrin—his stunning jawline. Silver wisps of hair framed his face, complimenting his curious smile.

Genesis gifted him a single roll of his eyes before going back to preening himself.

Sephiroth poked his head out, catching a glimpse of himself before gradually letting his body settle in front of the mirror.

He didn't wear a shirt. Sephiroth never did when they were casually hanging out together, just as he never passed up the opportunity to let his skin breathe.

Sephiroth reached up and lightly placed a finger on his lip, his eyebrows flashing as he silently pondered them. Beside him, the rage practically rose from his pores like steam.

“You know why my lips are, in your words, perfect? It's because I never abuse them with repetitive poetry.”

Sephiroth's cathartic laughter and Genesis' subsequent outburst filled the room, the latter grabbing a stray towel to attack the other with. Angeal didn't bother interjecting. For once, their petty quarrel felt like a much-needed relief from the gross displays of vanity.

They disappeared into Angeal's bedroom, where Sephiroth made use of a pillow as a weapon. Angeal was left alone. The bathroom tile was frigid on the sole of his foot, where he pressed it deeper, analyzing the graying grout as a willful distraction.

And yet, his own reflection still caught his eye. He raised his head, catching the annoyed glimmer in his own eyes in the mirror. Eyes were a funny feature to hate. Everyone's own was unique.

If you asked Genesis, he would rave about how the vivid blues in his brought out the red in his hair. Sephiroth told a different story. He despised his own. The slitted pupils were ‘unnatural and frightening’.

Angeal preferred not to think about his own. Why should he? Eyesight was a privilege, and everyone blessed with it should acknowledge their luck that they even had eyes.

His eyebrows dipped, furrowing and creating ugly lines around his face. What did it matter that his eye color didn't fit his face? That his pupils always seemed to pop in a way that made them look like contact lenses?

It was trivial anyway. He was a SOLDIER, not an actor or a model or anything that required physical beauty to be a significant trait.

He was strong, muscular, and good with a sword. That was enough.

Nevertheless, he'd be lying if he claimed to have never let some vain thoughts penetrate his focused mind. Like why, for example, did he technically get the short end of the stick?

Sephiroth and Genesis were attractive, there was no denying it. Sephiroth's silver locks glowed, and always lay perfectly no matter what he did to it. Genesis had been blessed with a russet hue to hair that framed his face perfectly. Angeal's own dull, black hair didn't do anything for him.

Sephiroth was naturally built like a glorious demigod in one of Genesis' epics. His physique was not ruled by how much he worked out or what he ate. His body was—as much as Angeal hated the envy dripping from his choice of words—perfect.

And then there was Genesis, who had always had a metabolism faster than his quickly formed thoughts. He had always been picked on for being a skinny child, but his bullies’ laughter turned sour when Genesis developed into a fit young man with a body straight out of a magazine.

Sephiroth was the kind of attractive that authors wrote about in fantasy novels. He was pleasing to look at and carried himself in a way that let everyone know he did not know it. Angeal himself knew firsthand that Sephiroth was well aware, he just didn't care for it.

“Beauty matters little to me,” he'd say. It was easy for him to say that when he looked like that.

And then there was Angeal.

Genesis was the type of attractive that usually landed him in ad campaigns and brand deals. He stood out on a catwalk and was the picture-perfect poster boy of SOLDIER.

“The other one.”

Angeal Hewley.

He had been a chubby child, an ironic fact about his childhood when one considered that it was filled with nothing but starvation and poverty. It was the icing on top of the birthday cake he never got to eat.

He put on weight easily, and had to work twice as hard to burn it off and turn it into muscle when the time came to become a “perfect SOLDIER.”

But it never stuck. Angeal's body was different from Sephiroth's and Genesis'. His waist wasn't small, his proportions were clumsy, and the baby fat on his face was stubborn.

Heidegger praised him for his build. Of course, he would praise anyone who wasn't Sephiroth.

“We need boys with meat on their bones! Enough of these fairy pretty boys!”

He had awkwardly laughed it off at the time, of course. But when his emotions got the best of him, it only served as another coin for the bank where he kept his worst opinions of himself.

There were plenty of those filling each safe with the brunt of his riches: his insecurities and subsequent guilt. He had no business hating his body when his belly was full and his limbs were fully functioning.

But there were more of them. His nose was too wide, his jaw was too wide and heavy. His hairline was awkward. He had protruding ears. Should he keep going? He wasn't Sephiroth, nor was he Genesis. He was just Angeal. The other one.

He didn't have Sephiroth's prowess with the sword, he didn't have Genesis' skill with materia. All he had was an unusable sword that his pride and persisting honor kept glued to his back instead of callusing his hands.

He wasn't the quiet and intelligent one. He wasn't the poetic and charismatic one. Pages about his beauty and strength could not be written, not when he was just Angeal, the responsible one.

The one who could cook well, the one who kept everyone in line, the dad of every group he was in, the one who faded in every photoshoot they did together, the humble one, the nice one, the ugly one, the interesting one, the other one, the one any storyline would gladly kill off first—

“You did that on purpose!” Genesis' echoing voice filled the bathroom as he slammed the door against the wall.

Sephiroth trailed back in after him, laughing with the pillow hung over his shoulder.

“You should have ducked,” Sephiroth remarked.

“You should have never been born to begin with,” Genesis shot back.

Angeal took notice of the feathers flecked in his russet hair as the older man returned to his rightful place: in front of the mirror. Sephiroth, still holding the pillow, stood beside him, analyzing his own appearance.

Angeal's reflection appeared in a small space, sandwiched between his friends and darkened by their shadows.

As Genesis plucked the feathers from his hair, Sephiroth began untying his own. He let the silver cascade over his shoulder before fluffing it out.

Genesis brushed the white fluff from between his strands, then went right back to critical digging for flaws.

“Do you think I should grow my hair out a bit more?” He asked Sephiroth.

“Long hair is tedious and difficult to maintain,” Sephiroth replied. “You should be thankful that yours doesn't grow as quickly as mine.”

Genesis shrugged. “If I had your waist, I sure would be thankful.”

Sephiroth curiously stood up straighter, placing both thumbs at his rib cage before moving them downward to measure his waist.

“You envy my…waist?” Sephiroth asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Duh,” Genesis rolled his eyes, standing up straight. “Who doesn't? While we're at it, I wouldn't mind having your arms.”

Sephiroth hummed. “Your shoulders are wider than mine. They suit you.”

“No, no I like yours better.” He went right back to stroking his nose pensively. “Your nose is perfect too, you asshole.”

Sephiroth laughed. “It's quite long. I would give you my nose if you would take my dark circles.”

“I accept!” Genesis laughed. “There's nothing makeup couldn't fix. While we're at it, how much do you want for your lips?”

“I'd trade my lips for your pupils.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure. I might give you my eyes if you give me your height.”

“That sounds fair.” Sephiroth leaned in towards the mirror, fogging the glass with his breath. “Honestly, I wouldn't mind trading bodies with you for a day.”

“Oh?” Genesis smiled deviously. “That sounds promising.”

“Not like that,” Sephiroth rolled his eyes with a sigh. “You should spend a day in my body. You'll be begging to switch back after a few hours.”

Angeal unfurled himself from his seat, placing both feet on the cold tile.

“Nonsense,” Genesis brushed it off with a wave of his hands, “I'd kill to be Sephiroth for a day.”

“You loathe your appearance to that degree?” Sephiroth wondered.

Angeal's vision burned red.

“I don't loathe it,” Genesis corrected him. “I simply think it could use some improvement. Don't you think that about yourself?”

Sephiroth considered, looking back at his reflection. “Sometimes. Not all the—”

“AAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!”

A guttural scream made both men jump back, startled.

Angeal pushed past them and dove towards the mirror hands-first. He kept screaming even as he smashed his fists into the glass over and over and over again. He kept screaming even as the blood gushed from his flesh, splattering over the white tile.

The mirror cracked more and more, each hit sending shatters of glass flying all over. Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His screams were sandpaper against his throat. He could no longer feel his hands, nor the glass wedged inches deep beneath his skin.

He didn't stop until the mirror was nothing more than a few shards of glass hanging feebly against the wood, and his reflection was gone.

The sink was filled with shards of blood-splattered glass and red. So much red. The vivid crimson against the silver pieces mocked him.

Trying to restabilize his sodden breaths was tricky when choked cries replaced the screams. His nose was running freely with the tears against his cheeks.

Sephiroth and Genesis were huddled together by the bathroom door. Both men were wide-eyed, unconsciously holding onto each other as they watched him, the dripping rivulets of blood painting the white tile, and his mauled fists.

The bathroom was quiet now. Angeal's sniffles and heavy breathing were the only sounds. He forced himself to look back, to look at them.

They were shocked, they were scared.

And he was still Angeal. Blood-soaked, scarred, and ignorant Angeal.

Against his will, Angeal noticed how even when they were scared, they were still perfect.

[cynosfunnyjokes]

kinktober day 3

characters: thoma, reader, ayaka is mentioned

relationship: thoma x reader

theme: stripping/body worshipping

notes: i actually don’t like this one but hERE. had a rough day at work and i really didn’t have the motivation but forced myself to anyway. reader is technically gender neutral, just afab. TW FOR SELF ESTEEM ISSUES. MINORS DNI. 18+ CONTENT.

word count: 1331

after a long and arduous day of working at the kamisato residence, thoma wanted nothing more than to retire to his room to relax with you, his lover, for the rest of the night.

the sight he was met with upon entering the room was not the one he expected. to be fair, he didn’t know what he expected in the first place- but there you stood in front of the mirror, staring almost judgingly at yourself.

your hair was wet, signaling that you had just showered and your skin was flushed- yet he could see the semi-wet tracks of what he could only assume were tears.

were you crying?

he immediately started to wonder what could’ve happened- maybe your commissions didn’t go well? he couldn’t see any visible new injuries so maybe not. it could’ve just been a bad day- but what could’ve happened?

a soft sniffle from you snapped him from his thoughts.

“sweetheart?” thoma’s voice cut through the silence in the room and you flinched in surprise, snapping around to face him.

“o-oh!” you stuttered out, eyes wide, “thoma! hi!” you tried to play it off as if you weren’t mean mugging yourself the mirror just mere moments before.

eyes softening as he looked at you, the blond let out a small sigh, “what’s wrong?” he asked, voice soft and supporting. he had always been a loving boyfriend and he was very observant, so it wasn’t a surprise that he saw right through it.

“it’s just..” you murmured, frowning, “i dunno… i haven’t been really.. liking how i look..?” it came out as more of a question than a response, yet it still summed it up enough for him to understand.

“oh, darling..” thoma whispered, coming up to you. his arms wrapped around you comfortingly, “why do you feel like that?”

“i feel like.. you deserve better..” you finally said after a few moments of silence, bottom lip caught between your teeth, “i’m not that attractive a-and-“

thoma didn’t even give you a chance to let you finish speaking, one of his fingers pressing lightly to your lips, “hey, hey.” he said with a shake of his head.

he turned you around, arms wrapped around your waist as he forced you to look in the mirror, “do you know what i see here?” his voice was soft and calming, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“a mess?” you asked half-jokingly, an eyebrow raising in question at him.

“absolutely not!” he teasingly scolded, lips pressing gently to your neck, “i see the prettiest person i’ve ever laid eyes on.”

even with the comment making you blush, you frowned, “i feel like that’s kinda biased, thoma.. lady ayaka is way prettier. and so is-“

he cut you off by nipping at your neck, one of his hands sinking between your legs to dance along your clothed heat, “incorrect.” he murmured, nibbling on your ear as you gasped.

making eye contact with thoma in the mirror sent a fresh wave of heat between your legs and you whined, thighs squeezing shut for some kind of friction.

“ah, ah.” thoma chided lightly, before pulling away, “i’ll just have to show you how much you mean to me- how stunning i truly believe you are.”

leading you to the bed, he shook his head when you tried to remove your own clothes, “i don’t think so, darling.” he hummed, gently guiding you so we were lying on the plush bed, “allow me to unwrap this..” he licked his lips, “delectable present.”

a shiver ran up your spine at his words, pussy clenching around nothing as your panties slowly became soaked with your slit.

thoma’s hands and fingers worked slowly to undress you, taking his time as he peppered gentle kisses to the skin he exposed- making sure to kiss every area.

“so pretty..” he whispered after tossing your shirt to the side, hands moving to rub from your shoulders to your fingertips before pressing gentle kisses to the backs of your hands.

“every scar, every blemish, every- ‘imperfection’ as you’d say..” he whispered, pressing light kisses to your chest upon removing your bra, “everything about you is perfect to me, my love.”

his words warmed your heart as it hammered fast and hard in your chest, “thoma-“ you whispered out only to be quickly shushed by his coos, “let me take care of you, my love.”

how could you say no?

thoma’s hands slowly moved up to cup at your exposed chest, thumbs swiping over the hardening nipples and drawing a gasp- he could feel the familiar strain of his hardening cock in his pants. the fabric started to feel suffocating but he was determined to make this about you.

hands slowly traveling from your breasts to your hips, his lips trailed down your exposed body, soon coming to rest where your pants sat. thumbs hooking under the hem, he slowly pulled down your pants and panties, placing gentle and teasing kisses along the way.

sure, you were used to thoma and his soft moments, but everything in you screamed to have him fucking you then and there- “thoma-“ you whined.

said male only shook his head, placing a kiss on your belly button before settling between your legs, “no need to rush, dear. i’ll make you feel good in more ways than one.”

his hot breath splayed against your weeping cunt, drawing a choked whine from you.

the blond hummed, one hand holding your thigh to the side as the other raised to press his thumb against your lower lips, “so, so pretty. all for me..” he whispered before leaning in and running his tongue sensually up your leaking slit.

your back arched in response with a small moan, hands grasping at the blankets below, “thoma-“ you moaned, the feeling of his tongue slowly running along your soaked pussy driving you wild.

he hummed almost innocently, moving a thumb to rub tantalizing circles against your puffy clit, tongue dancing inside of your gummy walls, “you taste so good..” he groaned, continuing.

adding his other hand to the mix, he inserted two fingers into your soaked hole, still lapping up your leaking juices as if he were starved. his pace was steady, fingers dragging along your walls as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, his lips and tongue sucking messily anywhere they could.

“thoma!” you gasped, hands moving to grasp at his blond hair, “close- ‘m close-“ a familiar coil was winding up in your lower belly as you squirmed, back arching slightly.

“let go for me.” he whispered, picking up the pace slightly.

all of the stimulation drew you closer and closer to your orgasm until-

the coil finally snapped, a loud moan leaving you as you came hard on thoma’s tongue- to which he licked up eagerly as if it was his last meal. a hot sight indeed.

his thumb still ran small circles around your clit to help you down from your high as you panted, body sagging on the bed.

“thoma..” you murmured, blinking up at him before eyeing his obvious hard-on, “what ‘bout you?” a simple question that made his heart flutter. you were always so caring.

“don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” he whispered, “my only concern is you and your own pleasure. i want to make you feel loved. pretty. needed.

you smiled softly, arms curling around his neck to pull him down into a kiss, “i always feel like that when i’m with you..” you whispered against his lips, tasting your juices after separating.

thoma smiled softly, hand moving to cup your cheek, “i love you..” he whispered before connecting your lips again in a deep kiss- not giving you a chance to continue.

even without you replying, he knew that you loved him as well. he was making it his personal goal to have you see how pretty he knew you were- and he would stop at almost nothing until he would reach it.

[viccyfics]

Sinful Pencil strokes

Chapter: 3/?

Words: 1393

Fandom: Ghost (Swedish band)

Summary: Swiss draws phantom and they reveal some secrets about themselves

Rating: mature

Read here or on Ao3

"Comfortable. That can't be hard to find," Phantom thought as he hurried down to Aether's room where the older quintessence ghoul had a large basket of freshly cleaned washing on his bed.

It was mostly filled with Rain's clothing Phantom observed when he crawled onto the bed for a closer look. His clawed hands sifted through the many layers of garments.

Velvet? yuck.

Lace? Rain might yell if he ripped that.

Denim? That felt weird on his fur.

"what about this?" He whispered to himself pulling out one of Swiss' t-shirts, it would be large on the small ghoul but that didn't matter.

Pulling it up to his nose and taking a deep breath, a smile played on his lips. It somehow still carried Swiss' scent, lingering even after a trip through the wash.

The oversized garment draped loosely over him, its fabric a familiar touch against his fur as he pulled it on over his drying body. Aether's room, once quiet, now bore witness to the sound of Phantom's muffled chuckles as he glanced at himself in the mirror.

From the position he was sitting in, he could see what hid between his legs, and up his soft stomach.

He needed some boxers, or maybe some shorts to cover up a little.

Or what if that's what Swiss wanted to see?

He let out another chuckle at the thought but still pulled out a pair of his underwear.

Pulling the boxers up his thin thighs before leaving the mess on Aether's bed behind.

A subtle sense of confidence accompanied each step. The hallway echoed with the rhythmic hum of the shower still running and Mountain's quiet singing.

Reaching the common room, Phantom watched the multi-ghoul for a moment the guitarist engrossed in his phone. The t-shirt draped over Phantom's frame caught Swiss' attention. A smile played on Swiss' lips as he looked up.

"Well, isn't that my shirt?" Swiss quipped, a playful glint in his amber eyes.

"You said comfortable" Phantom giggled watching the Multi-ghoul stand up to his feet, "We might have to do this in my bedroom" Swiss mused stepping closer to the younger ghoul until they were almost touching.

Phantom wished they were.

"Looks better on you anyway," Swiss teased, ruffling Phantom's hair.

"do you want to do this in your room or mine?" Phantom asked leaning into his hand.

"Let's do it in mine and I'll talk you through what to do" Swiss spoke taking Phantom's hand to lead him down the hallway.

"Alright, Phantom, you're about to become my masterpiece," Swiss joked, his amber eyes alight with a playful glint. He motioned for Phantom to take the lead and enter the room so he could choose where he wanted to sit.

Phantom's cheeks flushed with excitement. He shuffled over to the bed suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness.

Feeling the soft fabric beneath him, and met Swiss' gaze with a hint of uncertainty. "I have no idea what to do," Phantom admitted, his voice a soft murmur.

"That's alright Tommy, just lie down and I'll do my thing."

Swiss spoke with a reassuring smile and approached Phantom.

Propped up by a few plush pillows against the headboard, Phantom allowed himself to sink into the softness beneath him. lying on his left side both legs gracefully bent at the knee

His tail curled around his right leg, its movements fluid and almost serpentine. Phantom's arms found a comfortable arrangement, one hand resting under his chin keeping his head in place fingers idly tracing patterns on his soft jaw, while the other rested against the curve of his hip.

"So beautiful" Swiss whispered sitting down on the floor and opening the sketchbook, arranged pencils in front of him which he had sharpened while Phantom dressed.

The sunlight dancing through the window painted subtle highlights and shadows across his body, accentuating the contours that Swiss was so excited to translate onto paper.

Swiss' gaze lingered on Phantom's features, his artistic passion infused with a flirtatious energy. "You should pose like this more often," he whispered, the words carrying a subtle intensity. Phantom, acutely aware of the intimate atmosphere, couldn't help but feel a mixture of vulnerability and arousal.

As the session progressed, Swiss' teasing commentary and the strokes of his pencil ignited a gentle scene between the two ghouls. Phantom, gradually shedding his initial shyness, began to respond to Swiss' cues, allowing the connection between artist and muse to deepen.

"so what is it then?" Phantom asked through half-lidded eyes, "You're constantly surrounded by some of the most gorgeous ghouls in existence but you like me. why?"

"You know, Phantom, your uniqueness is what makes you truly beautiful. Your personality, your essence, the energy you bring to the room. And right now, that energy is captivating," Swiss confessed, his gaze unwavering.

"huh," Phantom muttered he assumed it was because they were pack and that was it, and he had never truly considered himself beautiful.

He was lanky, his purple fur was mixed with patches of white, and one of his eyes was pale and fuzzy which he couldn't see out of, he was covered in scars. cuts, burns, and bites.

Scars he wishes he could live without.

"We all have things we don't like about ourselves" Swiss said looking down at the paper as he talked, "but they tend to be the things others love the most."

"what about you?" Phantom asked trying not to move too much.

"My teeth" Swiss whispered finally glancing back up to the ghoul on his bed.

"I hate my smile, I always have done. I hate how big my teeth are and how human they are, they were terrible to use for hunting in the pit so I tried ripping them out…but they always grew back."

Phantom stared at him in shock "I love your teeth, everyone does!" Swiss nodded tears in his eyes "That's exactly what I mean, this is why our pack is so amazing, we love each other no matter what."

"I love you, Swiss"

"I love you too, Tommy"

The room slowly started to fill back up with silence apart from the sounds of pencil on paper and the occasional rubbing of Swiss' eraser.

"I wasn't joking when I said you should pose like this more often, not even just cause you look hot but it's the look on your face. you look happy and your smile is the first thing you see"

Phantom hadn't even realised he was smiling, but it made sense with all the sweet things Swiss had been saying to him.

"All done" Swiss cheered crawling over to the side of the bed, "Do you want to see?"

"Please!" Phantom gasped he assumed this was going to take hours but it had only been around thirty minutes give or take.

Swiss handed the sketchbook over to the ghoul, both with large smiles on their faces.

"Do you like it?" Swiss asked but Phantom didn't say anything he just stared at the drawing of himself.

"Phantom?"

When he was first summoned Phantom had struggled to even look in the mirror but here he was, sitting up on a bed, one of the most handsome ghouls he had ever seen on his knees to the left of him, and a drawing of himself in his hands.

He was loved here.

"I love it" he whispered feeling tears start to spill down his cheeks, "I love it so much"

Phantom gently placed the sketchbook down next to him before throwing his arms over the Multi-ghoul's shoulders and sending them both tumbling to the ground.

"Feeling pretty love bug?" Swiss joked receiving a chuckle and nod from the ghoul on top of him, "You know, if you really want to feel pretty I can help you out a bit."

"How would you do that?" Phantom asked climbing off of the other and lying down next to him, "Well I know how I look the prettiest so maybe if I show you, you'll be the prettiest too"

Phantom raised an eyebrow "When do you look your prettiest?" he asked confused about where this was going when the Multi-ghoul started caressing his side and trailing his hands towards the base of his tail.

"When my head is between someone's legs, and I'm sure you'd look amazing with my head down there."