#i wish i had more clever words to say what i think this is

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Guizhong (don't mind me re-dropping this with the fixed ones, shh)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

SFX Magazine Issue 372 - Designing Good Omens ❤ 😊

PRODUCTION DESIGNER MICHAEL RALPH REVEALS HOW THE SHOW’S CENTREPIECE SET, WHICKBER STREET, WAS GIVEN A DEVILISHLY CLEVER UPGRADE FOR THE SECOND SEASON

WORDS: DAVE GOLDER

Invisible Columns And Thin Walls “The new studio is Pyramid Studios in Bathgate – it used to be a furniture warehouse. And unfortunately – or fortunately, because I accept these things as not challenges but gifts – right down the middle of that studio are a series of upright columns. But you’ll never spot them on screen. I had to build them in and integrate them into the walls and still get the streets between them. And it worked.

“There’s all sorts of cheeky design values to those sets. Normally a set like this is double-skin. In other words, you do an interior wall and an exterior wall, with an airspace in between. But really, the only time a viewer notices that there’s that width is at the doors and the windows. So I cheated all that. I ended up with single walls everywhere. So the exterior wall is the interior wall, just painted. All I did was make the sash windows and entrances wider to give it some depth as you walked in.”

GOOD OMENS HAD A CHANGE of location for its second season, but hopefully you didn’t notice. Because Whickber Street in Soho upped sticks from an airfield in Hertfordshire to a furniture warehouse in Bathgate, Edinburgh. It’s the kind of nonsensical geographical shenanigans that could only make sense in the crazy world of film and TV, and production designer Michael Ralph was the man in charge of rebuilding and expanding the show’s vast central set. “I wish we could have built more in season one than we did,” says Ralph, whose previous work has included Primeval and Dickensian. “We built the ground floor of everything and the facades of all the shops. But we didn’t build anything higher than that, because we were out on an airfield in a very, very difficult terrain and weather conditions, so we really couldn’t go much higher. Visual effects created the upper levels.”

But with season two the set has gone to a whole other level… literally. “What happened was that the rest of the street became integrated into the series’s storyline,” explains Ralph. “So we needed a record shop, we needed a coffee shop that actually had an inside, we needed a magic shop, we needed the pub. To introduce those meant we had to change the street with a layout that works from a storylines point of view. In other words, things like someone standing at the counter in the record shop had to be able to eyeball somebody standing at the counter in the coffee shop. They had to be able to eyeball Aziraphale sitting in his office in the window of the bookshop. But the rest of it was a pleasure to do inside, because we could expand it and I could go up two storeys.”

For most of the set, which is around 80 metres long and 60 metres wide, the two storeys only applied to the shop frontages, but in the case of Aziraphale’s bookshop, it allowed Ralph to build the mezzanine level for real this time. According to Ralph it became one of the cast and crews’ favourite places to hang out during down time.

But while AZ Fell & Co has grown in height, it actually has a slightly smaller footprint because of the logistics of adapting it to the new studio.

“Everybody swore to me that no one would notice,” says Ralph wryly. “I walked onto it and instinctively knew there was a difference immediately, and they hated me for that. I have this innate sense about spatial awareness and an eye like a spirit level.

“It’s not a lot, though – I think we’ve lost maybe two and a half feet on the front wall internally. I think that there’s a couple of other smaller areas, but only I’d notice. So I can be really annoying to my guys, but only on those levels. Not on any other. They actually quite like me…”

Populating The Bookshop “The props in the new bookshop set were a flawless reproduction from the set decorator Bronwyn Franklin [who is also Ralph’s wife]. It was really the worst-case scenario after season one. She works off the concept art that I produce, but what she does is she adds so much more to the character of the set. She doesn’t buy anything she doesn’t love, or doesn’t fit the character.

“But the things she put a lot of work into finding for season one, they were pretty much one-offs. When we burnt the set down in the sixth episode, we lost a lot of props, many of which had been spotted and appreciated by the fans. So Bronwyn had to discover a new set decorating technique: forensic buying.

“She found it all – duplicates and replicas. It took ages. In that respect, the Covid delay was very helpful for Bron. There’s 7,000 books in there and there’s not one fake book. That’s mainly because… it’s a weird thing to say, but we wanted it to smell and feel like a bookshop to everybody that was in it, all the time.

“It affects everybody subliminally; it affects everybody’s performance – actors and crew – it raises the bar 15 to 20%. And the detail, you know… We love a lot of detail.”

(look at the description under this, they called him 'Azi' hehehehe :D <3)

Aziraphale’s Inspirational Correspondence “There’s not one single scrap of paper on Aziraphale’s desk that isn’t written specifically for Aziraphale. Every single piece is not just fodder that’s been shoved there, it has a purpose; it’s a letter of thanks, or an enquiry about a book or something.

“Michael Sheen is so submerged in his character he would get lost sitting at his own desk, reading his own correspondence between takes. I believe wholeheartedly that if you put that much care into every single piece of detail, on that desk and in that room, that everybody feels it, including the crew, and then they give that set the same respect it deserves.

“They also lift their game because they believe that they’re doing something of so much care and value. Really, it’s a domino effect of passion and care for what you’re producing.”

Alternative Music “My daughter Mickey is lead graphic designer [two of Ralph’s sons worked on the series too, one as a concept artist, the other in props]. They’re the ones that produced all of that handwritten work on the desk. She’s the one that took on the record shop and made up 80 band names so that we didn’t have to get copyright clearance from real bands. Then she produced records and sleeves that spanned 50, 60 years of their recordings, and all of the graphics on the walls.

“I remember Michael and Neil [Gaiman] getting lost following one band’s history on the wall, looking at their posters and albums desperately trying to find out whether they survived that emo period.”

It’s A Kind Of Magic One of the new shops in Whickber Street for season two was Will Goldstone’s Magic Shop, which is full of as many Easter eggs as off-the-shelf conjuring tricks, including a Matt Smith Doctor Who-style fez and a toy orang-utan that’s a nod to Discworld’s The Librarian. Ralph says that while the series is full of references to Gaiman, Pratchett and Doctor Who, Michael Sheen never complained about a lack of Masters Of Sex in-jokes. “He’d be the last person to make that sort of comment!”

Ralph also reveals that the magic shop counter was another one of his wife’s purchases, bought at a Glasgow reclamation yard.

The Anansi Boys Connection Ralph reveals that Good Omens season two used the state-of-the-art special effects tech Volume (famous for its use in The Mandalorian to create virtual backdrops) for just one sequence, but he will be using it extensively elsewhere on another Gaiman TV series being made for Prime Video.

“We used Volume on the opening sequence to create the creation of the universe. I was designing Anansi Boys in duality with this project, which seems an outrageously suicidal thing to do. But it was fantastic and Anansi Boys was all on Volume. So I designed for Volume on one show and not Volume on the other. The complexities and the psychology of both is different.”

[hysteria-things]

VEGAS

based off of this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: while on a trip with chris in vegas, you get a little too excited when you see his new instagram post. you just can’t help yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, teasing, masturbation (female), spanking, p in v, slight choking, hair gripping, semi-public, making out

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,029

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: chat i have mixed feelings about this one😔

❝i’m losing my patience, this ain’t staying in vegas!❞

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

this kid. he has to be doing this shit on purpose now, and nothing pisses you off more. he thinks he’s so fucking clever.

for context, matt and chris came to vegas for justin’s big poker game. you decided to tag along, but currently, the three of them are downstairs in the hotel common area to hang out. wanting to give the boys their own time, you stayed in the suite.

you’re sitting on one of the chairs on the balcony enjoying the city sounds and the night sky until your boyfriend decides to do this.

ah, the rule. it’s simple, yet impossible at the same time. chris set it a while ago when you were acting like a brat, and it stuck from that day on. if you break it, you’ll get punished.

RULE ONE: never touch yourself when he’s not there.

let’s face it. you had your hand down your pants the moment you saw that photo.

not caring if people around can hear or see you, your fingers slide in and out of your dripping hole with ease. you make sure to capture it all, the squelching noise and your moans getting louder the faster your movements go. “chris.” you whine, wishing they were his hands instead of yours.

the shake in your legs gets tenser the closer your high gets. “going to cum for you.” you moan into the phone, biting your lip to silence the scream you want to set free. it doesn’t take long for you to make a mess of your digits, exhaling from relief. you don’t hesitate to send the video to him.

heart beating in anticipation, you hear the front door shut not even minutes after the last message. all you do is stare into space and patiently wait for the person you need most to come outside.

his footsteps get closer before the sliding door opens and closes, your innocent-looking eyes finally meeting his as he walks in front of you. he crosses his arms without saying a word, and you spread your legs to show what he does to you. he licks his teeth, admiring the mess sitting between your thighs.

a trail of cum connects from your pussy to a small puddle beneath you on the chair. from the slickness, it’s practically begging for chris’s cock to abuse your insides.

in the blink of an eye, he grabs your calves to pull you to him. you gasp, him cupping your ass to lift you over his shoulder. he gives you one… two spanks before setting you down against the railing.

pressing hard against your clit with his thumb, he moves it in fast circles. “no teasing, please.” you protest, lolling your head back with a moan.

“you’re the one to tell me to not tease?” he scoffs, now moving his thumb slower up and down. “you’re lucky i’m going easy on you tonight.”

looking down ashamed, his hand wraps around your neck, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. your tongues intertwine, the noise wet. chris swallows your sounds of pleasure.

lips travel down to your neck, licking and biting at your skin. not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to drive you crazy. the erection in his pants nudges at your clit, not helping with the sensation you already have there. his breath is hot on your ear, teeth nibbling at the lobe. “turn around.”

when you do, he grips your hair to bend you over the cold steel, lifting his shirt that you’re wearing. you look down at the pedestrians below, who are completely oblivious to the actions happening above them. cars drive by, some horns honking in the distance.

chris’s pants bunch up on the floor when they meet it, aligning himself at where you are desperate. you gasp when you feel his dick stretch your walls, wrapping tightly around him.

before he’s about to thrust into you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. your hips move up and down, fucking yourself on his cock as you grip tightly on the surface in front of you.

groaning contently, he rests his free hand on the small of your back, giving you a spank here and there. licking his lips, he doesn’t take his eyes off the way you bounce back against his pelvis. the way your ass recoils is mesmerizing.

your moans are soft, lids fluttering closed when your legs start to tremble. because of that, you can barely move yourself anymore. then, you feel a hand wrap around the front of your throat once again, lifting your head to rest on a shoulder. “what were you thinking about, hm?” chris asks, thumb grazing your cheek. “what made you cum that hard?”

eyes opening, you shake your head. his hips thrust slowly, hitting that spot nice and deep. “you’re just so handsome.” you whisper, tears glazing your orbs.

his thrusts get more brutal when he kisses you, silent screams leaving your mouth. clicking his tongue, he leaves a smack on your ass. the stinging makes you accidentally cry out before stopping yourself.

he chuckles. “don’t be shy. let everybody know whose cock you’re screaming on.”

your moans get louder the more he hits your g-spot. you take a look down — where you could’ve sworn you made eye contact with a passerby.

the grip on your hair tightens, his dick throbbing against your clenching walls. you’re about to cum, and he’s not far behind you. the speed of his hips has you on your tippy toes, whimpering loud into the las vegas air. “i’m cumming. fuck, i’m cumming!” you squeal, making a mess down his base.

pulling out, your fluids drip down your legs, chris painting your back white. he lets go of your entire body, immediately almost falling to the ground if the railing wasn’t holding you up. you lean your head over it, trying to catch your breath. he smirks at the view.

after all, he’s been with you long enough to know what your cycle is like. perhaps he did make that instagram post on purpose; just for you. knowing that you’d cave. oh, well.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @sturnlcvr @tpvmz @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings

[sunniskyies]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Reader forgets she has Ford’s mind reading device on… 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!shy!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Makeout, fluffy shy stuff 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k 𝐀/𝐍: This is so so so out of my league with this kind of thing, but I had a vision and had to try, so forgive me if it’s not the best !! ( you can read this as young or old Ford by the way ! )

“Are you going to tell me what exactly that is?” You ask shyly, perched neatly on a wooden stool in the deepest room of Ford’s laboratory. The man in question is bustling around the benches, plugging in wires and fiddling with dials and buttons.

“It’s a mental-strengthening device, able to encrypt one’s thoughts to prevent dream demons like Bill Cipher from entering.”

You purse your lips. “Ah. Of course.”

Ford looks briefly over at you while he tinkers. “I don’t want any chance of that creature making his way into our world. The damage he causes is… irrevocable.”

You fall silent, quietly studying the scientist’s practised hands and that little furrow in his brow you doubt he’s aware of. You see it often, in your stolen glances as you set his coffee down in the mornings, or when his eyes linger for a moment on his work when you call for his attention.

You let yourself sit in the warm feeling that spreads through your skin, toying with the fantasy of him for just a moment. Before you know it, Ford is approaching you with a gadget in his hands, and you’re pushing those silly thoughts from your mind.

“This is the receiver,” Ford explains, gesturing to the sieve-like helmet in his hands. “May I put it on you?”

All you manage is a ‘mhm’, and you hope your ears aren’t bright red when Ford places the bronze contraption over your hair. As he adjusts it here and there his fingers often brush your skin, you’re mortified as goosebumps shiver over your skin. Luckily, from what you know about Stanford Pines, he isn’t the most observant man unless you happen to have three eyes or an off-on switch.

Being Ford’s assistant has been the best opportunity of your life, but childishly you often wish for something more. To see those lips say your name not just to thank you for your helping hands. To have the confidence to show Ford the book of research you’ve been privately gathering, his eyes catching yours as he realises the potential he’d never seen in you before…

For the millionth time reality pulls you from your daydreams. Ford crouches down slightly, your faces level, your eyes on his while his are at your hairline. A six-fingered hand gently tucks loose strands back from your face.

“There,” he says, eyes catching yours. “Equipped. How does that feel?”

You swallow, voice a tad too squeaky, “All good!” 

“Perfect. I’ll begin the calibration, inform me if you experience any discomfort,” he nods, satisfied, before sweeping away again.

As you wait, you silently tap on your knees, looking around. You look over the table behind you to see a television screen with—

Your thoughts.

A string of your most embarrassing ideas visualised on a ceiling-high collection of screens, unarguably clingy and desperate desires paired with Ford’s name scrolling everywhere.

You whip your gaze over to Ford, dew already appearing over your skin. He seems to be engrossed in whatever's in his hands, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees all… that!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! The screens mirror the chant in your mind.

You try vainly to think of other things, random words and imagery slowly but surely creeping onto the televisions. Polar Bears. Adjectives. Pencils, pens, markers. Dates and historical impact of various civil wars. Charity raffles. That one catchy jingle. Discombobulation. Ambystoma mexicanum.

Ford looks up. “Finished!” He says with a quick smile.

You quietly clear your throat. “Uhm. Wow! This is very clever, Ford, although I must admit didn’t realise it displayed the user's consciousness?”

His eyebrows raise at your question, before his face softly twists with confusion as he stares at the reading. He glances back over at you with the face of someone just realising how stupid something is. Yet, you almost slump with relief. At least he only thinks you're simple, not a freak.

“Well, yes, it does. Did I not mention that?” He says slowly. “I was going to suggest you exercise your brain to ensure the program reaches every aspect of your cognition… but it seems you’re… already… doing that?” He questions hesitantly. Your smile is too-bright.

“Oh, yes, that is what I am doing. Yep.” You squeak.

“Right.”

The silence is palpable, a thick sludge that clings to your form. Sometimes both your wandering stares slide over each other, awkward blips before you both avert eye contact. You hear the hum of machinery, the soft tap of your shoe on the floor. Your fingers itch to grab your journal from your pocket to give yourself something to do with your hands, but you’re embarrassed at what Ford would see as you ponder over it. The silence stretches on and on, until you can’t bear not to break it.

“So, you, uhm, said something about exercising the mind?” You blurt sheepishly.

Ford’s eyes are immediately on you. “Yes! Yes, just try to keep your mind active, it helps the protection process.”

And the silence is back. Perhaps even worse than before.

Desperate for relief, you pull your journal from your pocket. You wave it weakly, “Mind if I do some work?”

Ford adjusts his glasses. “No, no of course not. Go ahead.” He gestures at the various desks stationed around the room. You shoot him a quick smile and spin on your stool to the table next to you, propping open the journal and continuing an essay you plan to submit as a paper in your current university course.

This works, taking your mind off your vulnerability as you focus on your work. This is what you love about science, about academia, the ability to lose yourself in something so complex, so worthwhile. You really can’t wait to get your research out there and make a name for yourself.

You write for a while, pen often times balanced between teeth. You don’t quite register Ford coming up behind you until his tilted head is in your peripheral.

“Fantastic,” he mutters absently, his face well and truly absorbed on the open page. Embarrassed, you half-heartedly cover the page with your hands.

“Oh, no, it’s really not anything special.” You mumble, eyes averted. 

“No, really, I love it. You’re studying quantum physics, right?” He insists, head tilted trying to catch his eye. When you do, he has a soft smile painted on. Your cheeks glow pink.

“Yes, I major in quantum physics and forensic science. I minor in biomedical engineering, and I’m additionally doing an online paper on parapsychology with the only university that does it, in, uh, Finland.” The sparkle in Ford’s eyes grows as you timidly recite your areas of study.

“Parapsychology? That’s brilliant!” He remarked, awed. “Why didn’t you say that, I would love to take you out on my field days. I study all sorts of paranormal and supernatural activity here. It'd be great to share it with someone.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” you say hushed, fending off a stammer. Internally, your heart is soaring. Yes yes yes!

“It’d be no trouble,” he says earnestly, soft features returned as if coaxing you out of your shell. “I knew you were smart, but I had no idea the extent,’ he says, almost to himself.

Your eyes lock on him immediately. “You think that?”

He seems surprised. “Of course I do. You’re an exceptional assistant, and you’ve been in study for ages. I’ve heard nothing less than great things about when I send my own work to our local university. Not many scholars live out here, you know?”

You can’t drag your eyes away from him, and you're sure Ford can see every star in the galaxy swirling in your pupils right now. This is everything, everything you’ve wanted.

You’re not sure whether it’s the surge of confidence, or the way Ford’s looking so gently at you, but you’re acutely aware of how low Ford has bent down to talk to you. It would only take a small movement to bring your faces together.

And so, heart fluttering with this moment of bravery, you rise slightly up on the balls of your feet and press a small kiss to Ford’s cheek.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the sensation in your chest borderline sickening. “It, uh, means a lot.”

Ford doesn’t say a word, eyes wide but painfully unreadable. The silence is once again, stifling.

“Not a lot of fellow scientists in this area, like you said,” You hastily ramble on after a long moment. The gap doesn’t last this time, though.

In a swift motion Ford’s hand is at your cheek. You barely have time to inhale before his lips are on yours, their warmth sinking against your mouth.

You’d never imagined them to be so firm, although his proximity doesn’t give your mind any room to think about anything. It’s all happening so fast, your mind dizzied as you reciprocate his intentful kisses.

Your pen clatters slightly on the table as your hand releases it, quickly gripping to Ford as his arms snake around you and lift you up. He spins, setting you on the table in the middle of the room. You’re sure at some point you have or will let slip an embarrassing sound, but you’re wholly focused on Ford and how you’re sitting at his level on the tall table; him standing before you with his hands at your waist. Your knees brush either side of his thighs.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, his hands in turn pull you closer. It’s eager and messy, making your pulse thud wildly. You never thought a man would want you like this, never catching an eye. Let alone the genius that is—

Abruptly, his lips leave yours, the emptiness not lasting long as they move just beneath your lip, then down to your jaw. They trail down to the side of your neck, lips brushing over the shiver on your skin. Small breaths leave your mouth when you feel a glimmer of teeth against your collarbone.

You tilt your head, resting against his where he’s kissing your shoulder in the crook of your neck. Your hands remain tangled in his hair, your eyes closed.

Your bodies are so close together, his lips are all-consuming. It’s bliss. The man you’ve loved for so long, holding you like he’s besotted. Like he’s just as infatuated as you. The thought thrills through your mind; He wants me.

“I can assure you, I most certainly do,” Ford murmurs breathlessly against your skin. You pause, the statement uncannily sounding like a response to your thought…

Oh. Oh no.

The machine. The mind reading. The television directly behind your back.

You haltingly turn your head, face pale. The screen is, in fact, still reciting your thoughts. Every thought. And Ford’s facing it.

“Oh my god,” You groan, palming your forehead. You sink into yourself, drowning in humiliation. But Ford’s hand fishes beneath your chin, tipping your glowing face to look at him. His face is one of endless kindness beneath his mussed hair.

“It’s really not a bad thing, sweetness.” He says gently. You shake your head slightly, eyes squeezing shut.

His thumb creeps up the side of your face, face dipping level to yours. “No, seriously. It’s a very encouraging thing for a man to see.” He jokes warmly. You peek an eye open. Heavens, did he have to look so irresistibly handsome all the time?

“Should I, uhm, remove…” you gesture at the contraption atop your head, teeth worrying your lip.

Ford hesitates for a moment, thinking as his thumb strokes your cheek. “No. No, it’s too important. I can’t have Bill infiltrating your mind.” 

You wilt slightly, but Ford once again brings you back to him. “It’ll only take a moment. Half an hour at most.” His eyes flicker fleetingly at your lips. “And besides, it’ll be sunset by then. I hear you can see a meteor shower tonight? If you drive up the hill a little.”

You hum a soft confirmation, smile melting onto your flushed features as Ford presses a last kiss to your cheek. “Good,” He murmurs. “I’ll go fetch the coats.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

 @space1crow @fries11 @yasuuuudere @shadowsandswords @darling-eos

@bloodspatteredprincess @snake-in-a-flower-crown @defmxl @ryanthatsgay2

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[avatarkv]

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (1)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. (wc; 3104)

Jake knew a saying; held onto it ever since he had resided amongst Na’vi– every person is born twice. While he believed that it meant that the second time is when you earn your place here in Pandora, Eywa had a clever way of broadening the idea. His very children were proof of it.

He thinks it’s the great mother’s way of compensation, perhaps a second chance for him to do better– to do his very best to keep them alive on behalf of those he lost. 

While Kiri was a special case enough, you too were an odd one. 

You are Tsu’tey's daughter. Turns out, he had someone in secret while he trained to become olo’eyktan– when he was supposed to take Neytiri for himself. It was taboo– absolutely wrong to become unfaithful to one’s mate. But following the carnage of the great war, when Tsu’tey had so selflessly sacrificed his life, only then did Tsi’ewa came forward; told everyone of their love and what could have been. She was a simple songstress along Ninat, but it was her round and bulging belly that caught everyone’s attention.

It caused an uproar and understandably so. After all, Neytiri had only announced her rebellion with Jake not long before, but when the people connected the dots themselves and both stories had become one, they understood that their hearts merely yearned for another and no one should have ever dictated otherwise. Arrangements had been made and condolences were exchanged— everyone can only look back and wish that things could have been different.

Jake was supposed to take you under his wing as a way of honoring him– he owed Tsu’tey his life and perhaps an apology as big as so. But after your mother had unfortunately died during your birth, he knew to himself that he had to take you in; not as a responsibility, but as his own blood and flesh. His first daughter.

You were the loudest baby, he recalled. That day, Jake had rocked your body back and forth in his arms frantically, while Mo’at and Neytiri did everything within their power to help Tsì'ewa. Your cries were ear-splitting, enough to wake the whole clan up. 

“Just what do I do with you,” He muttered under his breath, eyebrows knitted in frustration– just where do he hold you? Is he doing it right? Are you hurt? Why are you crying so loud?

“Jake, the baby!” Neytiri’s shout from inside had cut his train of loud thoughts, snapping back to your bawling. He wasn’t doing such a good job. 

“I’m trying, Neytiri– this thing won’t budge.”

Neytiri had emerged from the hut, stomping her way to Jake with a scowl. "That is not a thing, you skxawng!" she exclaimed before gently scooping you up from his arms, cooing softly to you– though it was more like mocking him instead. “Does Jake here make you cry?” She said, patting your thigh soothingly. “He’s not at all pleasant to look at, but you have to get used to it.” 

Almost in an instant, your cries had died down. You babbled along with her, like you were agreeing with her every word. He slowly pulled himself closer to Neytiri, eyes wide with curiosity as he watched your small hands playing with her long braids. “Heh, she has Tsu’tey’s eyes,” He whispers, unable to look away. 

The flap of the hut swinging open was the only thing that got their attention, momentarily away from yours as they looked at Mo’at with anticipation. With a single shake of her head, sorrow surged their hearts, eyes traveling back to your innocent ones. They mourned for you; an unknowing child should never have to carry such grief. They had to make a choice– A responsibility they weren’t expecting to have so early. 

Jake mindlessly trails his finger down your stomach, gently, like you were the most fragile thing. Your little hand wraps around it and it was like you had binded his scattered thoughts into one big understanding. 

Sully. You’re one of them now.

Jake releases a breathless chuckle as he gazes upon his lover and you with a newfound clarity, a perspective so bright it illuminated in his very eyes. Then came an idea– the desire of having children of their own. Perhaps that’s why Neteyam came after only two years. You were quite the ploy; the push they needed to start a family.

You were truly blessed– the genius of your age was undeniable, your remarkable talent soon earning you the admiration of all who had seen it. By the time you turned six, you had already mastered many of the abilities that a hunter would need– your skills with a bow were unrivaled by most of the children your age, let alone those who were much older than you. They'd marvel at your accuracy each time you took aim with an arrow. You could never miss. You had to make sure you didn’t. 

By the age of 12, you had already accompanied Jake in hunts. You had developed a knack for planning, coming up with routes and back-up plans that were often surprisingly effective. You have proved to be helpful plenty of times. You were quick, silent– full of poise. They often wondered if you were an old, seasoned soul trapped inside a little girl’s body. 

But as quickly as the spotlight had shone down on you, it left almost as soon as it had come.

(“What you did today was reckless, y/n.” Jake settles his bow on the table aggressively, emitting a sharp thud. You were just as frustrated, throwing your satchel down the floor of the hut. 

The mission had gone rather wildly, with things not going along the plan. There was another airship– one that no one was aware of. Your instincts jolted your body, immediately throwing an explosive towards it which had it blowing all over the place– its pieces crashing and causing a wildfire. 

Jake argued that there could’ve been a more safer way. One that didn’t have to risk more of our resources and supplies; one that didn’t have to injure the other warriors. Of course you knew to yourself that you did the right thing. You did what you had to do. 

 ‘You could’ve been hurt and got others killed! Just what were you thinking?” He continued to berate you. You jest that if this went on, there’d be steam visible above his already heated head. 

“I had to take a risk– not everything goes to plan and this is proof of it.” You answered back with a scowl, “If I hadn't, there would’ve been more casualties.” 

“That’s not a call for you to answer to! Jesus Christ,” Jake runs his palms down his face, grunting, before looking back at you– expression suddenly tired and soft. “Come on kid, where’s that sweetheart who always listened to what I said?” 

You had scoffed, a hurt forming on the pits of your stomach. “That sweetheart once had a place in plans before.” You said, eyes unwilling to look at him. It weighed in your heart heavily– why did people assume that you were the only one who changed? You didn’t understand. “Pretty sure the Jake before was a good listener too.” 

The wrinkle in between his eyebrows deepened in confusion, but he never was one for confrontation. With a single dismissive grunt, he turns his back against you. “I’m way past your attitude. You’re grounded. Go.”)

As you grew, the resemblance to your father became ever more apparent. Jake started noticing the many similarities between the two of you; the way you walked– how you sauntered confidently through a crowd. Your braids would move along your heavy steps (and perhaps, that’s where Neteyam got his mannerism of swaying his too.), shoulders wide and proud. You even had his signature snarl, something Tsu’tey was known for that unfortunately seemed to have been passed down to you too. 

However, it was more than how you brought yourself. You were strong-willed– stubborn. 

There was another thing about you too. You didn’t call Jake dad anymore. It hurt him– left a heavy feeling on his chest every time you regarded him so distant. It was unfair that you still called Neytiri mom, why did it have to change with him? He didn’t have the heart to address it. Couldn’t ask you what went wrong. 

Because he knows damn well why. 

Lo’ak was enough of a headache, but you were a different kind of royal pain in the ass, more like a personal problem. It was tiresome. Petty. There was not a day that you and Jake wouldn’t argue and bite each other’s ass off– and yet, there was never a day where you two would talk it out. The fights would blur itselves out and before they knew it, things would be back to normal, only for it to fall out again over something small. It was routine. The only thing normal for you both. 

He missed you– missed his baby. Just when did you grow to become so distant? When did he start to overlook you?

You’ll admit, you might have indulged in the folk’s gossip. They always had a story for everything and they have plenty about your father. Tsu’tey was a fit olo’eyktan. He had proved so in his training and determination. Of course it was a low punch in the gut when the throne had been passed to an outsider– a demon, most of all. It was unfair, he knew it wasn’t right. A washed up marine had taken something he had worked for like it was nothing. Like he was nothing. 

You pitied your father and you feared you’d be like him– like nothing. 

And history might just repeat itself. You weren’t clueless– wasn’t blind to the fact that Jake had trained your brother more. He adored him so much that the very moment he was in the right age to train, you were off to fend for yourself; trained all alone while Jake went over the routine with Neteyam like he did with you. You remembered waiting for him every afternoon because he promised that he’d make time– that time was yours and yours only. But as the light bled and neared eclipse and you were too cold to wait outside, you learned never to wait again. 

They would come home soon after– smiles on their faces and a handful of apologies for you. 

Soon enough, your suspicions proved you right as the people started to talk again; Neteyam– the golden child. He would make a good olo’eyktan. 

Perhaps that would explain the drift between you and Neteyam too. Could they blame you for it? You had lost their attention so early– while you still needed them. You weren’t their kid and you were reminded of it everyday. In times when you didn’t know if you had space in the family hammock while they sat together, telling stories under the starry sky. You pretended to have fallen asleep everytime; back against them as you listened. In times where the family was growing and growing, until the small table wasn’t big enough for everyone anymore– or in this case, for you. 

(“Come on, ma’ite, what are you doing so far from here?” Neytiri had called for you when she noticed how distant you were from everyone. You silently scooted beside her, wooden bowl in your lap. “Look, I prepared your favorite.” 

It wasn’t. You hated it. You hated the tangy taste of it so badly. But you had decided to eat what was left on the table after everyone had gotten their meals and there wasn’t usually enough for you. Neytiri thought nothing of that– didn’t think that you eating only scraps and dried fruit was because there wasn’t anything else for you to have. She simply thought that it was your favorite and had been making it for you ever since.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her. Not when she thought she had been doing well with preparing it. You kissed your teeth, smiling tightly as you lifted the food to your lips, eating silently. “Thank you, it’s good.” You muttered under your breath after.) 

But you were family; they said so themselves. When they tucked you in to sleep, when they patted your head. They were still present now, just not in the way you wanted– not in the way you longed for. It seemed like making them angry was the only way you could have their attention– particularly, your dad. You could never make Neytiri mad. She tries to understand you, she does. Explaining now just seems so.. Petty. So childish, you decided to push her away instead. 

What do you tell her? That you only let dad blow a fuse or two was because you missed him? Because you didn’t know what went wrong? 

So there goes your routine. 

“I just don’t understand why I can’t be olo’eykte.” You had brought up again, lips in a familiar snarl. “You tire me and for what? Kiri is already training to be Tsahik– just what would my place in this clan be?” 

“We are not having this conversation again, y/n. Not tonight.”

Jake had just returned from a particularly bad hunt; went home empty-handed and with a patience as thin as a strand of hair. He continued to sharpen his dagger, movements almost aggressive. Everyone immediately went out of his way, not wanting to be on the end of his temper– not you though. You could never get a hint, it seems.

“Yes, tonight! My ceremony is almost near, sir. I have been waiting.”

It wasn’t like he had a reason anyway. Jake couldn’t tell you because he had no reason as to why. Why couldn’t you be olo’eykte? You had all the skills to be one, even more so. But in the back of his mind, a thought so deep and petty that he couldn’t bear to say, tells him that the name he carried was something to gift his eldest son. Olo’eyktan was a privilege reserved for Neteyam. He never thought to have you so early– he always dreamed of having a son first. 

“Wait more.” 

“This is insane– sa’nok!” You had turned to Neytiri, eyes pleading. She quickly grasps your arm and tries to tug you back towards the exit, speaking in a soft but firm voice as she tries to soothe the tension.

“Ma’ite, why don’t we go out for a walk?” She whispers. To be frank, she was tired of this– never of you, no. But at the way things had been. Parents aren’t parents automatically just because they have had children of their own. It’s a skill they have yet to muster– to truly understand. She didn’t know where the line between you and her had blurry along the years. Didn’t know where this constant need of yours to be seen came from. 

You jerked your arm away from her, almost too harshly. It tugged on her heartstrings, not knowing what was going on with you. “I cannot wait anymore.” You said, taking two steps towards Jake with an unreadable anger– an anger he didn’t know when had stemmed from. 

“Is it because I’m not your daughter?” 

His eyes widened. A flash of vulnerability visible in his gaze, momentarily softening his glare. “You stop this right now, y/n.” He had stood up, tucking the dagger back to his loincloth. Jake’s larger frame towered over you, telling you to drop it– to leave the conversation. But you weren’t backing down. 

“I am your eldest–! You trained me earlier than Neteyam, I have been here long enough–”

“You aren’t ready!” He had shouted with the same fierceness, earning a dirty look from Neytiri.

“Why won’t you see me?” Your voice had softened, borderline begging– just a bit, but enough for his ears to flatten in response. He knew that beneath those few simple words lay many layers of underlying meaning; emotions that have yet to be spoken. 

But he turns his back against you dismissively anyway. “Neytiri, get her out of here.” 

Neytiri grabs you by the arms again, although a bit forceful now, but just enough for her to touch you– to have you in between her arms. She embraced you, like she was trying to keep the words from escalating. She feared one of you would say something out of line; something you both would regret. 

But on the brink of the tension– the severity of the situation, you had muttered. Your voice was muffled, but it was clear. The message was oh so crystal. “You took everything from my father.” 

Jake grunts, “Yeah? Well maybe your father wasn’t enough either.” 

“Jake!” Neytiri hisses and although Jake couldn’t see her, he knew very well he was getting quite the conversation with his mate too. 

It was a low blow. Unnecessary. A straight strike to the gut. It was a pain so bitter, you didn’t want it to linger any longer– you were nauseous. You wanted no more than to vomit everything that spiraled out of your stomach. 

“You want to lead so badly and you can’t even control your temper. No clan wants a hot-head for a leader.” But he kept going– relentless and cruel. “You ought to be someone else’s shadow.” 

“But I’m your daughter,” Your tone had softened, almost cracking as the lump in your throat grew. Tears blurred your vision, threatening to escape as Neytiri held you close. 

“And yet you never listen to me— because I’m not exactly your father, yeah?” With one last glance, he stepped out, passing his children who stayed just outside the door, listening. Jake opens his mouth, desperate to ease the tension– the discomfort written in their faces, but he quickly shuts it and continues to walks out. He had said enough for tonight. There was nothing saving his face from this. It was best if he left instead. 

“Oh, ma’ite.” Neytiri rocks her body along yours, drawing soothing circles on your back but the embarrassment settles in your chest– gnawing at your body. You catch a glance of the pitiful looks from your siblings as they try to enter the hut silently. 

How could you make a mess out of yourself in front of them? Why had you let this blown over?

You retracted slowly from your mother’s hold, wiping your tears before running the opposite way from where Jake had gone to. It was better if you left instead.

mauve here! finally done writing this after racking my head for weeks. wanted it to be relatable (??) as much as possible, idk why. there is just something therapeutic w writing about your past issues <3 but i hope this one's alright!!! really excited to finally post this heheh

lots of kisses!

[cxrsed-angel]

Cheer Skirt Misap: Hazel Callahan x Reader Smut

word count: 1k

summary: Hazel finds your new cheer uniform attractive. Particularly the skirt and how short it is.

Warnings: Oral (r receiving), Hazel is an ass girl, slight spanking, hazel doing sexual activities when’s she probably shouldn’t be. After that fight. Reader is more feminine. 18+ MDNI

A/N: I watch bottoms 2 months ago and i haven’t stopped thinking about her and ruby cruz since, so here’s this. Also reader is a cheerleader. I wish I could come up with a clever title. Also Hazel gives me service top vibes.

Hazel is sitting on your bed. She’s trying to listen to whatever you are talking about, but she can’t focus on anything besides how hot you look in your new cheer skirt. The skirt is white with blue and red on the bottom, falling just above your thigh. You had gotten the new uniforms for the big game against Huntington. She watches you move around your room, getting ready for the game, her eyes lingering on your legs and how short the new cheer skirt seemed compared to the old ones. 

“Pj was such a dick the other day. I mean, saying that about your mom was so out of line, babe, and I mean, you didn’t make a fake fight club to have sex with cheerleaders. You actually cared about female solidarity and everything. And you’re literally dating a cheerleader on your own accord without lying-“

You pause your rant about PJ, turn around, and see Hazel sitting in your bed, staring at the lower half of your body. It’s clear she isn’t paying attention. You walk closer to your bed and see her bruised face from the fight at the pep rally. You frown, knowing she probably had some sort of concussion that was making it hard to focus.

“Hazel? Hazel, are you okay…do you need to lie down? Am I talking too fast?”

Hazel looks up at you with her blue eyes bruised black and purple, but they’re still big and bright as she looks at you. 

“I-um, no, I was just thinking about something else.” 

You sit beside her on your bed, your thighs touching hers in her black jeans. Hazel's eyes linger on your upper thighs again before tearing her eyes away. She feels her heart beating faster in her chest, trying not to stare at your legs, trying to ignore the ache in between her thighs. She feels a bit guilty being so turned on as you look at her, so worried and concerned. 

“Oh? Thinking about what?” You see Hazel look a bit flustered at your question, and you relax a bit. You could tell it wasn't something bad, but you were still intrigued about what was on her mind. 

“Um. I was just thinking about you and how you look cute in your cheer skirt,” she tells you the truth partially, slightly nervous and embarrassed to admit that your skirt had turned her on so much. 

You smile at the compliment. “Oh, thanks, babe! We got new cheer uniforms since it's like the biggest game ever, but they are a bit shorter.” You get off your bed and look at the skirt through your mirror. It’s a few inches shorter than your usual cheer skirt. You thought you got the wrong size at first, but they just ended up being that short. “I'm glad we were shorts underneath, or I would literally flash the crowd.” 

Hazel smiles, laughing a bit at your comment, eyes still gazing at your lower half. “Well, it looks really good on you. Maybe shorter skirts make you more aerodynamic, help you fly up higher or something.” 

 Hazel suggests innocently when she knows thats probably not the reason your skirt is so short it's almost showing your ass considering your team’s pep rally performance.  You laugh a bit, smiling at her reasoning. 

“I really don't think that’s the reason, baby.” 

She toys with the bottom of your skirt lightly as she continues. “No, I think it is! Maybe it could help with the-the air and going up and-and flips and stuff because there less..fabric?” 

Hazle tries to justify but fails, making you laugh more. You find her attempt cute, though. Her blue eyes linger on your thighs again, gazing at them before she pulls you onto her lap by your hips, quickly kissing your lip-glossed lips suddenly. You suck in a sharp breath at the unexpected kiss, closing your eyes and melting against her the familiar feeling of her lips. You feel Hazel’s hands grasp your hips tighter as she kisses your lips, pressing against each other. Your arms go around her neck.

You break apart from the kiss slightly, looking at the playful smile on her lips and her face flushed and red, her eyes wide as she looks back. You can tell she’s turned on, and if her gaze didn’t give it away, her hands creeping up under the skirt did. 

“You’re really happy over these aerodynamic skirts, huh?” you smile at her, knowing that was not the reason she couldn’t keep her hands off you. You could tell it was because of how the shorts showed off your legs and a bit of your ass. 

Hazel pulls you against her passionately. Your lips crash together, kissing you again. She pulls you by your hips back on top of her. You feel her hands lightly moving down your back. She can’t keep her hands off of you, but you move your lips off slowly as you realize how things are progressing. You stare at Hazel, hesitant when you remember.  

“Hazel…are you sure you can do…more strenuous activities? You know you were beat up pretty badly, babe.” you look concerned as you sit up, moving off of her. You move off from on top of her and sit back on your bed. 

She nods excitedly like there is no problem, like she didn’t get the shit kicked out of her the other day and is perfectly okay. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s fine. I’m like almost 100% better anyways.” Hazel tries to sound sure, but you can tell she isn’t. You nod, still not fully unconvinced. You saw the fight and know she had taken quite a beating, and the last thing you wanna do is make it worse by having sex. 

You pause, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Babe, I really don’t think we should be doing anything. Plus, we have to be at the football game in like an hour.” Hazel nods, pouting her lip a bit as she thinks. You watch her fidget with her silver rings as she thinks of a solution, clearly not taking no for an answer. 

“Oh! Wait, wait, I got it.” Hazel looks excited, her blue eyes excited. She lays down on your bed. “I’ll just eat you out.” You pause, thinking for a few minutes about her solution,  

“I don’t know Hazel…what about you-”

 She cuts you off, hungrily kissing your lips as they press against hers. She cups your cheek and slips her tongue in your mouth. You melt instantly, feeling that warm feeling you get every time you kiss. After making out for a few minutes, you feel her pull away, your head a bit dizzy from the kiss.

“Please let me eat your pretty pussy. I promise I’ll be fine,” Hazel begs as she looks at you, slowly rubbing circles on your hips. Her words go straight to your core, turning you on.  

You look at her and give in, unable to resist her big blue eyes. “Fine, but you’re stopping the second you get dizzy or something feels off.” Hazel nods as her grip on your waist tightens as she looks up at you excitedly. 

She pulls your black lacey underwear from under your cheer skirt and throws them somewhere off in your room. You lean down and cup her face with her face, your lips crushing onto hers again, making out. Hazel moves her hands down, lightly squeezing your ass. Her lips linger, touching against yours as she looks up at you. 

You move, placing your hips over her face. You look at her as she stares back excitedly. You slowly lower yourself on her lips and waste no time licking around your wet and puffy folds. She licks along your lips slowly, and you gasp at the feeling of her tongue. She continues moving her tongue as you try to hold your hips, trying not to thrust them, Hazel’s injuries still in the back of your mind. You moan out her name as she sucks on your clit. 

“Fuck Hazel, please don't stop.” you close your eyes, grabbing the side of her sheets and slowly rolling your hips against her lips. 

She grips your ass under your cheer skirt, squeezing it. Her tongue slips inside your entrance, and your moan grows louder as her motions speed up slightly, eating you out like she’s starved. Your face grows hotter as you feel the arousal building; you feel yourself getting wetter under her touch. She places a smack on your ass, and you moan, not expecting to like it as much as you did.  

“Fuck, baby! I'm close!-yes, right there! Fuck Hazel!” 

Your back arch letting out a breathy moan as your orgasm gets closer. You thrust, moving your hips faster as she swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. You feel yourself coming undone as your orgasm hits. Cumming around Hazel’s lips. You breathe deeply and slowly move from on top of her, sitting in your bed. Hazel sits up, her chin wet and lips swollen. 

You look at her, wiping your wetness off her lips. “How do you feel? Are you dizzy, or do you have a headache?” 

Hazel smiles and shakes her head. You nod, still catching your breath. You feel her hand on your thigh, rubbing it softly, feeling her cold rings on your skin. 

“Yes, I’m fine; never been better.” She beams, happy from her previous activities. You kiss her lightly before standing up to finish getting ready for the game against Huntington. Hazel leans against her arms, watching you in your bed. 

“But after I feel better, I’m gonna have to fuck you in that skirt.” you turn around at her words, a bit shocked at how bluntly she put it. 

“Oh? You are. And eating me out while I'm wearing it isn't enough?” Hazel shakes her head lightly. 

“No. I mean, it's good enough for right now, but the thought of watching you bounce on my strap in that cute little skirt is making me feel a bit foggy and extremely turned on.” 

You nod as you return to putting on your makeup for the game. “Well, get a doctor’s note, and we can make that happen.”  

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

hii! welcome back!! i love love love your writing:)

i’m not sure if you’ve written something like this but the reader is stressed over studying for an exam, she’s in the library until very late at night when one of the marauders (i can’t decide who, you can choose!) finds her dozed and trying to force herself to stay awake. then he finds out she hasn’t been eating properly. then he asks “are you okay?” and that’s what it takes for her to break down into tears? sorry if this is weird! i’m usually a silent reader. so mostly just a lot of angst and comfort, then fluff? thank you for taking time to read this! it’s okay if you can’t write it!

thank you so so much again! so glad you requested 😊 really hope you like it!!

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader word count: 1.4k description: fluffy; i left it up to you a bit at what stage you read their relationship

All the words finally made sense. It was like a puzzle. And it all fit together just like this. Or wait was it a different way? Should you go back to that first thread or follow this new one? Wait what was the first one again? There were some words. You couldn’t remember the words, but you knew how important it was that you put them in the right order…

“Sweetheart…”

What?

“Sweetheart…” you hear again.

You open your eyes and see a bunch of crowded words on parchment right in front of you. You realize you’d fallen asleep on your notes, that they’d bled into your stress dreaming. 

“There you are.” The voice is warm and gentle. You know it.

“You fell asleep, love. It’s late. Thought it was weird I never saw you come back, so I came to look for you.” 

“Remus?”

“Yeah, pretty girl. It’s me. Wake up.” 

You sit up, and Remus adjusts your hair and jumper for you as you rub at your face. 

“I was studying.”

“I know,” he chuckles. “But I think you need some rest now, don’t you?”

“Don’t I need some rest, or don’t I think so too?”

Remus laughs softly. 

“Too clever for your own good. Get out of study mode, lovely,” he tells you, bringing his hand to your head and scratching your scalp playfully.

You lean into it on instinct, loving his touch and his comfort after a long, lonely day in the library. Remus had wanted to study with you or at least keep you company, knowing how stressed out you were about this upcoming exam, but you told him he was too distracting and you’d find him later. That must’ve been many hours ago. 

Remus notices you shifting into his touch, and he slides his whole body closer to you. 

“Hey, you okay?” he whispers. 

“I..” you start, thinking “I’m fine” will come out automatically as it always does. But it gets stuck in your throat. It gets stuck on a lump there that is making itself more and more felt. 

“I…” you try again, but this time your voice completely cracks. 

“Hey, hey, come here, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Remus responds, bringing you into his embrace. He holds your head to his chest, wraps his other arm around you, caressing your back. 

You immediately start sobbing. 

“It’s alright,” he keeps repeating. He holds you close and pets you more intensely. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble through panting breaths into his jumper. 

“It’s okay,” he says quickly in his warmest tones. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m just sorry I didn’t come look for you earlier.”

“Ugh, I’m so embarrassed,” you admit, pulling back and wiping your face with your sleeves, not feeling brave enough to look him in his warm brown eyes. “You shouldn’t need to take care of me. I should be able to do that myself. I just got a little carried away. I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much over this exam.” 

He shakes his head gently at you and brings his hands to either side of your face, lifting it to look into his and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“There’s nothing embarrassing about caring a lot, Y/N. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he smiles adoringly. “And there’s nothing wrong with needing people, love. I’m happy to be here for you. I just wish you’d let me.” 

You nod slightly and manage to keep his gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. 

“No more of that. You don’t have to be sorry, okay?”

“Okay…” 

“I mean it, Y/N,” he says with a gentle firmness only Remus could deliver. 

“Okay,” you say more certainly. 

“Good.” 

He kisses your forehead quickly then goes to pack up your stuff. As he’s stacking your notes, your stomach makes a low rumble. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more embarrassed. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” His tone is chiding but teasing. 

“We had that pie…” 

“With me?!” he startles. You nod. 

“Baby, that was ages ago. Come on, we’ll find you something.” 

Remus takes your bag, just tssking at your pathetic objection as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder. He takes your hand, and you walk out of the library together. 

You walk in silence, but just Remus’s presence next to you gives you a quiet peace you’d definitely been missing. You lean your head on his shoulder the rest of the way, and he can’t stop his subtle smile the entire time.

When you get to the common room, he sits you down on the sofa, rubbing your shoulders dotingly and kissing the crown of your head before standing straight up. You’re confused why he’s not already sitting next to you. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” You pout at his words. “I know, I’ll be quick, sweetheart; I promise.” He turns to go then turns back to you. “Those notes better still be stuffed in your bag when I get back.” He points a finger at your bag then at you, and you giggle and nod. He wags his finger a bit in emphasis, staring at you hard, then turn and bounds up the stairs toward the boy’s dormitories. 

It’s a mere couple of minutes later you hear him bouncing back down, but you’re confused to hear multiple sets of footsteps. You turn and see Remus walking back toward you and Sirius walking toward the door. 

“Hi, Y/N/N,” says Sirius. “So needy, aren’t you?” he teases then is out the door. 

“Where’s he going?” you ask Remus as he settles in next you. 

“He’s going to sneak into the kitchens for us.” You go to object, but Remus softly places his fingers on your lips. “He’s happy to, lovely. No matter how much he denies it, Sirius is a sweetheart.” 

“I know he is, Rem, but I really hate being all this trouble. All over a little exam.”

“It’s a big exam and very little trouble. We’re your friends, Y/N. When are you going to let us be here for you as much as you’re here for us?” 

“I don’t know,” you whisper honestly. You look down and are mortified to feel on the brink of tears again. Godric, you really did need some sleep.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Remus starts, but quickly adds, “Or do, if you need to. Just do what you need to do, and I’m here, okay?” 

He’s the sweetest person alive, you think, and you throw yourself into his arms. He chuckles at your affection but returns it immediately. You shift till his arms are around you, and you lift your legs into his lap, which he lovingly welcomes, pulling you close. 

“You’re really kind, Rem, you know that?”

 “Am I? Not doing much really.” 

“I’ll start letting you help me with things when you start taking my compliments,” you say through a strained, tired smile. 

“I’ll work on it,” he cedes.

You sit in silence together, the fire crackling nearby, Remus’s hands caressing you, and you find yourself dangerously close to sleep. Your eyes feel really heavy, keeping them open a struggle in vain. 

Remus feels you tense up every once in a while before slowly relaxing into him again. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair. “Just rest, okay? When Sirius gets back, we’ll have something to hold you over, and then I’m sending you to bed.” 

“I don’t wanna go to bed.” You sound like a little kid, and he chuckles at you. 

“You have to rest, Y/N. No more studying tonight.” 

“I wasn’t gonna,” you say, your voice slurred with sleep. “I don’t wanna go to bed because I want to be with you.” Even in your sleepy state, you register Remus tense slightly at this clarification. 

“You’re the only thing that’s relaxing, Rem,” you go on. Your exhaustion is making you honest, your lacking the energy to over-think and filter. “You’re so warm and sweet, and I like how you care about me… and how you smell.” You nuzzle into his jumper. 

Remus is quiet, but he squeezes your body against his. Then softly, before you fall asleep, you hear his whisper, “Yeah, I care about you, darling. Adore you actually. More than anything.” A beat. “Okay, sweet girl. If this is how you’ll fall asleep, I’ll hold you all night.” He kisses your head again and adds, “I’ll hold you for forever if you’ll let me…”

[sammyluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, fluff, sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n, 9.5K words. requested !

summary : sam's being overprotective of you, and it leads to an argument and something more.

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger’s seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don’t quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, ���do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn’t seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Victory Tastes Damn Good - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3384>

warnings - smut, under 18s dni

"Come on Carlos, come on," you muttered, feeling sick with nerves that you thought you might throw up. It was the final lap of the Singapore Grand Prix, and Lando was doing a great job as he backed up the final of the two Mercedes.

You couldn't help but close your eyes as they hurtled down the homestraight, unable to watch just in case it went wrong. But, the angels were looking down on you and granted your wishes, as you heard through your headphones, "Carlos Sainz has won the Singapore Grand Prix!" 

The team were screaming and jumping for joy, and you couldn't help it as tears escaped your eyes and down onto your cheeks. Even more tears flowed as you sang along with Carlos and his engineer, in celebration of the smoothest of operations. 

You rushed out to parc ferme, but couldn't get anywhere near the front due to the masses of Ferrari personel that were out there. You didn't even care though, as you got to watch Carlos get out of the car, finally victorious. He had been close in Monza, but that didn't matter. 

You may not have been able to see his face, but the pure joy that radiated from him could be felt from the distance you were at. While everyone was occupied at parc ferme, you headed straight to the podium.

Seeing him stood up there was magic. There was no easy way to describe how you felt, but it was like drowning in a sea of golden delight, and you didn't know whether to open your eyes or let it take you away.

It was like you were in a dream, and a part of you was terrified that you were going to wake up. You just couldn't tear your eyes away from him. You thought he was going to fizzle away, and the Spanish anthem would turn Dutch, and Carlos would turn blonde. 

But, it didn't happen. The anthem finished, and the Scuderia finally got to hear the grace of the Italian anthem. Carlos simply couldn't wipe the grin off his face, and you didn't want him to. It was the embodiment of everything he had worked so hard to achieve, and his brilliantly clever and down right genius racing had brought him to where he deserved to be.

At the top.

Watching him hoist his trophy high wa bliss, and it was like a King in front of his people as the whole of the Tifosi beneath him cheered and screamed. As the champagne flowed, Carlos and Lando showed everyone just how precious Carlando was, and you adored the friendship they had. 

Just as you had managed to stop crying, you finally got to see Carlos properly, and he had finally found you. He was looking for you, but was too caught up in the moment to properly search. You didn't know what to say as you looked at him.

He was stood right in front of you, and you couldn't muster a single world. "I just-" you fumbled, putting both of your hands on his face and squishing his cheeks lightly, trying to check if he was actually real. 

"You just fucking won, Carlos!" you squealed, violently shaking him by his shoulders, before yanking him into your arms. "Did I? Huh, I was wondering where the trophy and champagne came from," he deeply chuckled in your ear. 

"I think someone slipped something in my drink this isn't normal," you laughed, ruffling his hair slightly. "It's called being extremely fucking happy, baby, I feel it too," he said, kissing you as he picked you up and twirled you around. 

"We are getting so fucked up tonight," you beamed, itching to get celebrating as wildly and extravagantly as you wanted. "Well, you might be," he cheekily smirked, winking at you. 

"Wasn't what I was talking about, but since you've done so spectacularly, I'll consider it," you smirked, spotting the mischievous glint in his eyes. "I doubt you'll be having to do much considering," he whispered in your ear, backing you up and pinning you against the wall of the motorhome with his body. 

"I think I deserve it, don't you?" he lowly asked, his breath tickling your ear. 

"Oh you do, but you'll have to wait," you mused, knowing that you had absolutely no control in this moment, but you knew he liked it when you thought you had the upper hand. "Winners don't wait, baby," he coyly grinned, leaning impossibly closer to you and peppering a few light kisses down your neck.

"This one is going to have to, this isn't the right place," you said, gently pushing him away with a tap on the shoulder. "And why is that?" He asked, gazing down at you as he still pressed you against the wall. "You know why,"

"Maybe I do, but I want to hear you say it," he leered, knowing the exact reason why you didn't want to do anything with him right here, right now. "Because I'd have to be quiet," you muttered. "And why would that be such a challenge, my love?" he teased, tucking a lock of loose hair behind your ear.

"I don't think I'll be able to refrain from telling you just how brilliant you are. At racing, and other things," you giggled, snaking your arms around his neck. Judging by his reaction, you knew you had told him exactly what he wanted to hear. 

"Well, I guess that would be an added bonus to finding somewhere away from here," he winked, stepping away from you when footfalls approached you. "Carlos, race debrief in five," Charles said, practically stomping past.

"Alright, thanks," he nodded, waiting for Charles to round the corner at the end of the corridor. As soon as he was out of sight, Carlos lunged forward and captured your lips with his. His hands found their place on your waist, one of them slowly trailing down your body.

"Hey, patience," you said, tugging his hand away by his wrist. 

"Sorry, I just can't keep my hands off you," he said, forcing himself to walk away, because if he got his hands on you again, he wouldn't be able to get them off. As he backed away, he shot a wink towards you with a smug grin, "I'll see you later, baby,"

"I'll see you later, Carlos," you smiled, leaning back against the wall and giving yourself a minute to catch your breath. Carlos made you feel like a rowdy teenager all over again, and he never failed to surprise you with his antics. 

You were in for one hell of a night. You thought back to when he won in Silverstone last year and what happened after that, and there was no doubt in your mind that tonight was not going to be any different. 

You didn't really know where to go to wait for Carlos, so you just sat on the couch of the motor home, posted pictures of him on every social media platform known to man and tried to wipe the huge, goofy smile off your face.

There was pride still bubbling in your chest, and it was a tingle that you never wanted to shake off. You checked the time, seeing that they had been in the team debrief for about fifty minutes. It had been a while, and you wanted to stretch your legs.

The general public had gone, leaving the track staff and team workers in at the track. It left you to wander around the paddock freely, without reporters fishing for a quick headline, or people constantly surrounding you as you shuffled through, shoulder to shoulder.

You could walk past the motorhomes, as the lights lit up the path, the air feeling warm on your skin. You smiled at the few people that walked by, none of them stopping you on your travels around the paddock. 

Most of the teams and people were in their motorhomes, still going through their debriefs. After some time, you saw a stream of papaya walking out of the doors, and you figured there would soon be a river of scarlet to follow. 

"Hey Lando, great job out there, you smashed it," you smiled as the curly haired boy passed by, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Thanks, it was a great race," he nodded, "Hey, you free tonight? You look great," he smirked. 

"Don't let Carlos hear you ask that," you laughed, used to Lando constantly flirting with you. He had done it ever since you had met him, and Carlos knew it. "He's fine with it, he knows a pretty lady like you gets plenty of attention," he charmed.

"Are we talking about the same Carlos?" you raised an eyebrow at him, knowing how possessive Carlos could be at times. He liked to have you all to himself, and you wouldn't have it any other way.  "Why only have first place when you can have second too?" he continued, leaning against the wall behind him. "It's happened before, it can happen again," he said.

"OK Lando, I'm going to go and see if Carlos is ready now," you side-eyed him, brushing off his comment as a joke and hoping it was nothing more. 

Lando just chuckled at you, waving you away as you walked. More teams were filtering out of their motorhomes for the night as you strolled down the path, no sign of anything red. Just as you reached the outside of the Ferrari motorhome, a hand was held over your mouth as another hand positioned itself on your stomach, tugging you back.

You went to scream, but the hand muffled the sounds. You tried to kick away, hoping to catch the attention of a passerby. "Baby, don't struggle, it's just me," a voice whispered in your ear, and your struggling muscles instantly relaxed.

"The hell are you playing at?" you whisper shouted, spinning around to face him. He still had his race suit on, and his skin was still sticky from the champagne.

"I just needed to see you, needed to touch you," he murmured, pulling you as close as he could. "Wait until we get back, we've been over this," you sighed, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands roaming your figure.

"But I need you now, baby," he spat, pinning you against the wall in one swift movement. "Everyone will hear and anyone who walks past will see," you told him.

"As soon as the last few guys from ours leave, we're the only ones left," he explained to you.

"There are security cameras everywhere, Carlos," you told him, your eyes darting around the space surrounding you, checking for any sign of surveillance. "Nothing can see here, I checked," he smirked.

One of Carlos' hands braced on your waist, the other trailing over your hip bones. "Fuck it," you mumbled, pulling him in by his neck and passionately kissing him. "That's my girl," he breathed against your lips.

You realised that people had stopped wandering out of the track, and you poked your head around the corner to see if there was anyone there. Much to your delight, the path past all of the motorhomes and across the paddock was like a ghost town. 

Most of the lights around the circuit flicked off as the final staff left for the night, leaving you alone at the track. There was a rush of excitement surging through you, curious to do whatever it was that Carlos was so hell bent on doing out in the open, where anyone could potentially see.

No more words were exchanged as you nodded at him to give him the all clear, to give him permission for whatever he was wanting to do. He hungrily took your lips with his, not even giving you the chance to breathe.

It felt like you were in a stormy sea, only able to capture a small gasp of air every now and then, but the burn that lingered in your lungs was like cold air on a winters' day.

Carlos' hands slithered up the sides of your thighs, sneaking under the material of your dress. His touch left tingles in their wake as his fingers brushed the skin on your hips.

"Can I?" he asked, hooking his fingers into the thin side of your underwear. "Of course," you nodded, pulling at his neck to bring him back into a kiss. Once you had stepped out of the lace, it was kicked to the side and discarded.

His lips moved across your jaw and delicately down your neck, across your shoulder. "Unfortunately for the both of us, we need to keep this on, just in case anyone decides to ruin our fun," he smirked against your skin, tugging at the material at the waist of your dress, "I don't want anyone else seeing you the way I get to,"

Normally you'd be alarmed at the prospect of someone seeing, or catching you in the act, but you were too caught up in it to care. Too fuelled with desire to be bothered. Too needy for him to think.

His lips still roamed slowly down, his hand sneaking back under the skirt of your dress and dangerously close to you. His fingers teased the skin of your upper thighs, and the temptation to push yourself closer to him was nearly unbearable.

But then, a thought struck you. "Hey, tonight is about you, allow me, I think you deserve a reward, no?" you breathed, pulling his face within a centimetre of yours by grabbing his chin. Your other hand snaked down his chest, all the way down to where his race suit was rolled down.

Carlos grabbed your wrist, pinning it against the wall. "If it's about me, then it's about you too. Getting to see you squirm for me, getting to hear how much you need me is the best reward you could give me," he smugly grinned, sinking to his knees in front of you.

His lips placed feather light kisses up the insides of your thighs, flitting from one to the other. "Fucking hell," he groaned, seeing the effect he had on you. "It's that easy, huh?" he teased, still kissing the insides of your thighs. "You're just too good," you lightly chucked, a hint of desperation in your voice.

"Say it again, it sounded good," he told you as he pushed your knees further apart. 

"You are so fucking brilliant, I don't even- Fuck," you breathed out as he teased you with his tongue. He slowly circled your clit as you pushed your hips into him.

"Tell me baby, tell me how much you want me," he told you, lightly running his tongue over you. "I need you, Carlos, I don't think I can wait," you pleaded, and it was music to his ears. It was the fuel that kept him going.

Without further hesitation, he started lapping and sucking at all the right places. Those special spots that he had mapped out in his mind. You both held the dangerous assumption that there was not a single soul around that could hear or see what you were doing.

"Am I doing a good job?" he asked, not ceasing with his movements. With his every action, the fizz in your lower abdomen became closer and closer to bubbling over. "Fuck yes you are, please don't stop," you mewled, tangling your hand in his hair, pulling at his dark locks. 

You couldn't help but buck your hips towards him, desperate for more. Carlos let out a low chuckle, "So I'm that good, huh?" he teased, adoring the way you tugged gently at the strands of his hair. "You're a winner for a reason," you said, your back arching off of the wall. 

Tingles were slowly spreading across your body, and the ever more desperate moans you were letting out told Carlos everything he needed to know. "You close, baby?" he asked, half mocking, half serious. 

He could tell the answer of the question quite easily, your legs were starting to shake and your hands were slowing their movements in his hair. "Fuck yes, I-" you managed to get out, the pleasure hitting you in a wave that spread across your body.  

It was like electricity pulsing through your veins, and your legs were buckling underneath you. Carlos rose from his knees and captured your lips in a heated kiss, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. "You know what that is? That's the taste of victory, and I think it's pretty damn good," he told you, caressing your sides.

"You OK to keep going?" he asked, despite is desperation. Even if he needed you more than anything else right now, your comfort was still his top priority. "Mhm, I don't wanna stop," you told him, and that was enough for him. 

You pushed his race suit down his legs quickly, knowing just how much both of you needed it. "Jump," he instructed between kisses, hoisting you up as your legs locked around his waist. He held you against the wall as he guided himself into your entrance. 

"Shit you feel good," he groaned, burying his head into your neck as he rocked his hips into yours. His lips left purply-red splotches on your skin, and you could feel them forming. Every time he thrust into you, you both let out groans of pleasure as you came closer to release. 

"Oh my god you're good, so fucking amazing," you rambled, and your praises fuelled him on more. He started to thrust into you deeper and harder, and he touched that spot that made you see stars. 

"You're the best reward I have ever gotten," he spat through gritted teeth, trying to hold himself together. "You deserve it," you breathed, your thighs burning from being clasped around his waist for the length of time you had. 

"Carlos, I-," you fumbled, unable to form legible words as you felt the pressure in your stomach build up to an unbearable level. You didn't need words to tell him, he could feel the way your walls wrapped tightly around him. 

"Carlos, I'm going to-," you started, but you were silenced by Carlos smashing his lips against yours, "Me too," he groaned as his pace picked up, hungry for release. Both of your moans were muffled as the release of pressure made your vision black out. 

It was like ropes of energy shooting through your abdomen, as you cried out and threw your head back against the wall. Your nails scratched over the skin of his neck, leaving red streaks in their path as the skin turned raw. His hips slowed to a halt as you were both left, breathless and exhausted. 

"Are you OK to stand, or do you want me to hold you for a bit longer?" he asked, his eyes turning from hungry to soft. "I should be fine, you can put me down," you said, Carlos gently lowering you back down to the ground. 

Your legs were kind of numb, as you leant against the wall to catch your breath. "We're still going to get pissed, right?" you asked, not ready for your night to be over. Carlos pulled his race suit back over his hips and stood in front of you, staring at the hickeys he had left on your neck. 

"You're probably going to have to cover these up, but then again, I'd love for everyone to see what I get when I win," he smirked, his hands gripping your waist. 

"Then you're probably going to have to cover these up," you laughed, running your fingers over the red scratches on his neck. "Let people see, I don't mind," he laughed, ignoring the sting they left on his skin. 

"I don't know if I want people knowing what we get up to," you chuckled, leaning against him as you started to walk out from in between the motorhomes. "True, I don't want anyone imagining you like that, that's all for me," he said, gripping you tighter. 

"Tell that to Lando," you quipped, since you knew Carlos knew how flirtatious he was with you. "He's an exception," he winked, checking to see if there were any people around. A blush tinted your cheeks as you realised that Lando's comment from earlier might not have been a joke. 

A/N - It's been a week, I know, I'm sorry. I've been really busy, so think of this as a one week anniversary gift. But in all seriousness, it still doesn't feel real, and it makes Forza Ferrari-ing through the pain that little bit easier. That was the smoothest of operations, and could not be prouder of our chili 🌶💖

|masterlist|

[starlightsearches]

Yes, absolutely! So. Eddie x FemReader. They are best friends and have this special bond but all of a sudden Eddie pushes her aside for another girl he's dating or is interested in, letting her sit in the reader's seat, canceling traditions of years like movie night, etc. But somehow he wakes up and realizes he has been an ass to her (maybe because he actually wanted to get over his own feelings for her) but the reader isn't so quick to let it all go - she wants him to prove how sorry he is!

Jealousy, Jealousy

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼 requests are open!

thanks for the request, bestie! and an even bigger thanks for your patience 😬 i hope you enjoy!

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Comments likes and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think 💖

Warnings: mostly just language and a little drama and angst and then fluff I think but let me know if I missed anything. I've always wanted to play around with POV switches like this, which is probably why it's taken me so long to finish this one 🙄

You're fuming in the front seat.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the road—more than he probably ever has while driving—afraid that if he even glances in your direction all the smoke you're letting off will start to fog up the windshield. Like he's driving around with a forest fire in his van.

"Listen," he says, even though he's not sure what's going to come after, "it's not even a big deal."

They're the first words out of his mouth since he told you, and they're definitely the wrong ones. Your eyes flash, smoldering at the center like cigarette ends.

Your look may be fire, but your voice is all ice.

"To you."

"What?"

"It's not that big of a deal to you, Eddie," you tell him, shifting against the dirty leather seat like you can't even stand to be near him, "but it is a big deal to me."

Valerie fucking Reed—just thinking her name has you seeing blood. Everything about her puts the wrath of god in you, from the fake-ass pitch of her voice to the way she flips her hair over her shoulder whenever she thinks she's said something clever.

You'd hated her from the moment you'd met her, after the painfully cliche the freaks sit over there cafeteria routine she'd put on for you your very first day in Hawkins. You were more prepared for that shit now—had educated yourself in the art of biting comebacks and fought only with words even when you wanted nothing more than to bash her head into the linoleum tile.

But at a brand new school when you were desperate to make friends? Absolutely devastating.

If you were held at gunpoint and forced to say one honest, nice thing about her, there'd only be one you could offer up: it was her fault you'd met Eddie. With tears still stinging in your eyes, you'd carried your lunch tray in the direction of her pointed finger, falling into the nearest empty chair and tucking your chin into your chest so no one would see you cry.

That was when Eddie swooped in, big doe eyes and denim vest rattling with pins, and a thousand stupid jokes—not exactly a knight in shining armor but you'd never wanted one of those anyway.

Now Valerie wants to take him away from you, too.

Eddie drums his hands on the wheel, fidgeting with the volume on the tape he'd let you choose to soften the blow. He let's Fleetwood Mac fill the empty space between you, all the words he should say replaced with Stevie's soft vocals.

He's not used to fighting with you. Your friendship has always been as easy as breathing—except when it's not.

. . . But you really can't be blamed for that. It's not your fault he feels all weird inside every time you smile.

He wishes you'd smile at him now.

"You know," you say, feet planted on his dash and your chair pushed all the way back, "I didn't say shit when you started ditching me at lunch to deal to her and her friends, or when you skipped on movie nights for all those parties she threw because I get why you had to go, but a fucking date?"

"She just needs a place to smoke . . ." Eddie mumbles, skin hot at the word date.

You roll your eyes with enough bite he actually feels the sting.

"Right. She just needs to get high with you at your place, because she has nowhere else to go.”

Your lips drip with venomous sarcasm—absolutely soaked through with the belief that he couldn't possibly sit in the same room as Valerie and not touch her.

Do you really have so little faith in him? Eddie's got way more self-control than either of you would give him credit for. There's never been a moment he hasn't wanted his hands on you, and he's alone with you all the time.

“Come on,” he says, swallowing so his voice won't crack, “we do that.”

“It’s different," you snap back quickly.

Yeah it fucking is, he thinks, but Eddie doesn't say a word. Maybe the silence will speak for itself—or maybe it could, if you'd let it.

You carve a frustrated hand through your hair, staring him down. “Like, how do you think it would feel for you if I went out with fucking Jason Carver?"

He resists the urge to gag. "It's not like that."

It's really not like that. Just the thought of it has Eddie feeling both sick and violent, unsure if he was more likely to throw a punch or throw up.

He takes the turn into your driveway, watching you collect your stuff with a brutal speed.

"Yes it is, Eddie," you tell him as you slide from your seat before he's even fully hit the breaks, "actually, it's worse. Because Jason is a dick to everybody, and Valerie's got some fucking target on my back. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all part of some evil plan of hers to make me jealous because—"

You cut yourself off immediately, words stoppered by some invisible dam, eyes wide. Eddie's body goes cold when you slam the door without saying goodbye, stomping off to your doorstep.

He scrambles for his seat belt, practically falling out of the van in attempt to catch up to you before you get inside.

"Wait a second," Eddie says, holding the door open with his hand and trying to catch his breath, "why would that make you jealous?"

You scuff the toe of your boot against the step. "Nothing, it's stupid."

Eddie raises a brow, but you can’t look at his big, brown, beautiful eyes right now, tracing down along his leather sleeve to where his hand is planted against the door, black-painted nails splayed wide and already chipping, although you only did them a few nights ago.

Rude that the only time you get to hold him is when you're doing him a favor.

"Stupid how?" he asks.

You shrug. "I dunno . . . she just thinks I have a crush on you or something."

It's a surprise he hadn't already heard; about half of the girl's locker room were still stripping out of their gym clothes when Valerie had to bring everybody's attention to your black lace bra, before sharing a few theories on who you were wearing it for.

"Like I said, stupid." You ignore the heat in your cheeks, gripping the door again and trying to force it shut, but Eddie's not finished.

You wouldn’t notice, but his chest is heaving under his black t-shirt, palm sweating against the door. A crush? On him?

Is Valerie as delusional as he is?

"Wait," —his mouth is on a roll before his brain has caught up— "do- do you?"

Your eyes go wide with surprise, and then shrink into slits as you push him back from the door, one hot hand planted against his chest.

"Fuck you, Eddie," —he catches the words just before the slam— "fuck you for real."

It wasn't a no.

He repeats the words in his mind like he’s casting a protection spell. Like it’s some kind of ward against your anger as he scales the tree outside your window.

It’s harder than it looks, and he’s already making it look pretty difficult—but one hand’s busy clinging to the greasy paper bag packed full with burgers and those crispy tater tots you love. He manages to wiggle his way up to your window sill without losing his pants, even though the tears at his knees got caught on every twig and branch he passed.

Eddie steals a glance of you through the sheer curtains, holding back his fist from knocking. Just so he can look at you properly, without all the static of having you look back.

You're stretched out on your bed, feet in the air and headphones caught over your ears while you flip through the pages of a book. He hasn't seen these pajamas before—the little shorts that just cup the edge of your ass, and a sheer tank top. His nails are leaving little indents in his palm.

Eddie hasn't made a sound, but with the way his eyes are tracing over you, you gotta feel it. You find him at the window, and he panics, rapping his knuckles against the glass a second too late.

You roll you eyes at him, but at least you let him in.

There are honest-to-god butterflies in Eddie's stomach when he flops beside you on the bed. And he wouldn't lie—at least not to himself—but he'd tried to feel something like this before, when Valerie first started paying all that attention to him.

Her manicured hand would brush over the sleeve of his jacket while he'd be getting her product and he'd wait for this same feeling, hoping he had a weakness for all pretty girls, that any attention would him stumbling over his words and these feelings didn't have to be the end of the best friendship he'd ever had.

But it's you.

You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Eddie's smile is sheepish, but not nearly apologetic enough for your taste. He holds up the paper bag in his hand, dotted with dark splotches where the grease leaked through. It lets out the heavenly scent of fried food.

"I brought dinner, you know, for movie night."

He slips a tray of tater tots from the bag, and you're resolve falters. You hold back your hand from reaching for one even though you already know how incredible it would taste, the little rivulets of salt and shining grease coating the golden skin.

"What about Valerie?" you ask, stealing your eyes away from the junk food. You hate how petulant your voice sounds.

He just shrugs, pouring out some ketchup onto the tray, licking the excess off of his pinky finger. "Told her I had other plans."

Eddie pops a tater tot into his mouth and bites down with a heavy crunch, but it feels like your heart's the thing being popped between his teeth.

And what more were you expecting? That he'd tell her to fuck off and take her money and friends with her? She's the queen of Hawkins, and you're . . . not.

Maybe you and Eddie are both delusional—or stubborn—enough to pretend like you don't care about the politics of high school, but people had abandoned their morals for less.

“So you blew both of us off, then?”

He pauses mid-bite, like a prey animal, like if he doesn’t move you can’t be mad at him.

“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of chewed-up potatoes.

You snatch a tater tot from the tray, chewing and swallowing even though your stomach is starting to churn because something bad is going to happen and you can feel it coming like a storm in the air.

“Why are you here, Eddie?”

“I- uh, to say sorry,” he stutters.

The food's getting cold in his hands before you respond.

“What’re you sorry for?”

What’s he sorry for? Eddie has a whole list: sorry for making a fool of myself, sorry for hanging out with Valerie because I thought it might make you jealous, sorry sorry sorry for trying so hard to get over you and doing such a bad job at it.

“I, you know . . . I shouldn’t have made other plans on movie night.”

Those were the wrong words again. Crazy how easy it is for him to fuck this up—like it was something he was born with.

For a second, Eddie thinks you'll yell at him, and he's comforted by that. If you yell at him, you still care.

You take in a deep breath, and Eddie braces himself. He can take whatever you give him, will shoulder any insults you hurl and forgive you for it the second it's over.

But your shoulders slump. You let out a heavy sigh.

And he knows he can't take that.

"I'm really, really tired, Eddie," —you won't even look him in the eyes when you say it, sliding the window open again,—"see you tomorrow?"

But Eddie doesn't see you for two whole days.

That's a fucking record.

He thought you might need space, you know. So he gave you Saturday to cool off, kicked around at the trailer and gave Wayne vague answers about why you weren't around and ignoring the look in the old man's eyes. Listening to sad records and getting high and trying not to stare at your smile in all the photos plastered on his wall.

Sunday, Eddie drove by your house with the volume all the way up on your favorite Rolling Stones album, windows down while he idled at the curb. There was a twitch in the curtains, but you weren't there to shout at him for all the noise before climbing in on the passenger side.

Eddie knocked at your door this morning, hoping at least you’d want a ride to school. Your mom opened it with a sad little frown, telling him you’d already taken your bike.

And really, the two days have only ended on a technicality. Eddie sees you right now, reading a book with your head bent low, sitting at the far end of another table.

"Hey—" Eddie twitches when the flying french fry lands against his cheek with a wet slap— "are you gonna go talk to her, or did you just wanna stare?"

Mike laughs at his own joke, and the other guys giggles along.

Eddie's used to the ribbing. He's never minded it—when you're not around. Kind of enjoyed it a little. Even with his heated cheeks and stammered shut ups that completely gave him away, he needed somebody to acknowledge what he was feeling. It made it more real.

But Eddie's not in the mood for jokes today. And he doesn't need anybody to remind him that he's in way over his head with you.

He shoots the freshmen a look that works just as well as throwing a hand over their mouths—without the risk of being licked—and brushes the potato chunks from his hair while the rest of Hellfire pick timidly at their lunches.

And Eddie goes back to staring.

This time, though, you're staring back.

He meets your eyes. Just for a second, wide with surprise before you snap your head back in the direction of your book, tucking your nose between the pages. Doesn't matter how quick you were though. Eddie caught the look you were giving him.

And his heart is beating hard, like it did on the day he first met you. His limbs all staticky and weird, palms sweating because even from the first second he knew you existed he's wondered what kissing you would feel like and the question never left his head.

Eddie's on his feet before he can think about how bad of an idea this is.

"Hey," Dustin calls to him through a mouthful of square pizza, "what're you doing?"

Eddie just shrugs.

"Probably something stupid."

You can see Eddie's long legs moving in your direction from the corner of your eye, and your stomach drops out of your ass like a dip on a roller coaster in the dark and you can't see the end. He says something to the guys—his lips are moving—but you can't make it out over the sound of the cafeteria rumble, the chatter of the other girls sitting at the same table as you, talking animatedly about all the dates they went on over the weekend and completely ignoring your presence.

You dip your head closer to the pages of your book, so close all the words blur together, trying to hide from Eddie like you've been hiding the past few days. You shouldn't have even glanced in his direction, should have let the burn of his presence so close and still too far away swallow you up.

It’s getting hotter with every step he takes toward you, and you’re getting smaller, body tight and your lips caught between your teeth.

He slides quietly into the seat beside you, fingers drumming against the table, and the sound feels louder now that the girls have quieted down, not-so-sneakily listening in on whatever's about to go down between you and Eddie—hungry like sharks for any new gossip, ready to spread the nitty-gritty about why the freaks are fighting.

Eddie dips his head down, eyes big and already so sorry it feels like a punch to the gut.

"Hey," he whispers, trying to smile and failing miserably, "come here often?"

You try to smile back, but it's not much better. "Hey, Eds."

It's quiet, but not the comfortable kind of quiet you're used to around Eddie. It's a hot and sweaty quiet, a trapped-in-a-car kind of summer burn that makes your lungs go shallow.

Eddie perks up, the first words he can think of spilling out of his mouth.

"The guys were thinking about going to the record store after school. Would you wanna come?"

You wouldn't have thought for a second about refusing an invite like that a week ago. Heaven was nothing compared to wandering around a music store with Eddie.

"I don't know if I can today," you say instead, and then when you see the look of hurt on his face, you soften the blow with, "I gotta go to the library for some . . . stuff."

He hums. "Stuff?"

You shrug, playing with the pages of your book. If you're quiet enough, maybe he'll give up.

But he doesn't go anywhere. His hands stay planted on the table, silent and still for once. The black nail polish is almost completely chipped off his nails—probably picked off and littered all over the linoleum.

Eddie's voice is a whisper when he breaks the silence. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"About what, Eds?"

"Why you're so mad at me . . ."

You've seen Eddie through a lot of shit, but you've never seen a look like this on him—eyes like saucers and brimming with shiny tears.

And you thought being in love with him was rough, but hurting him is a thousand times worse.

"I'm not mad at you, Eddie," you admit, hiding your eyes in the palms of your hands and pressing down until you see stars, "it's just . . ."

You don't get to finish your sentence.

Valerie's calling Eddie's name from across the whole fucking cafeteria. You watch her waving, standing on her tip-toes like she's not the only place in the room anybody can look, like every facet of her doesn't already scream give me attention!

Eddie sandwiches his lips together, pressing until they turn white. You're not going to like whatever he has to say next.

So you slip the dagger from his fingers, standing from the table. He can't hurt you if you hurt yourself first on his behalf.

"Actually, we can talk about this later," you tell him, slipping your bag on over your shoulder.

"Hey—"

There's sparks in your hand where he holds you, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. It's just your hand in his, but that's all it takes for you to forget yourself, eyes caught on his soft mouth and pink tongue.

Valerie's approaching. You can see her stalking toward you over Eddie's shoulder. There's no room for vulnerability within a mile radius of her. You've got to get away before she sees all the softest parts of you exposed and decides to go for the jugular.

The door's within reach when the room goes quiet. Quiet enough Eddie doesn't even have to raise his voice when he says your name.

He's no stranger to standing on tables, but it's the first time you've seen him look so awkward, hands swinging at his sides in tight fists.

"I- I think I might be in love with you," Eddie says, "and I'm really, really sorry."

There's a chorus of ooooooooooohs from the audience, and maybe a few confused whispers from all the people who passively assumed you were already dating. Then all eyes are on you, waiting.

It's too fucking hot in this room, and your vision's starting to blur at the edges, feeling like you're on a stage and you can't remember the next line after Eddie's verbal punch to your gut.

You mumble a sound, falling backwards through the door and into the safety of the hallway.

Eddie's down off the table as soon as you disappear from the cafeteria, totally ignorant to the laughter and the jeers from all the dickheads watching.

Valerie's in his line of sight when he hits the ground.

"That was weird," she says, and Eddie can't tell if she's purposefully getting in his way, or if she's just got that aura of somebody who could tackle you to the ground but would never bother because she doesn't have to. "I mean I always knew she was a freak but—"

"Fuck off."

Eddie really would like to get into it more with her, maybe mention that he's been up-charging Valerie every time she mentioned your name, or that half the stuff he's been selling her was mixed with ten-year old spices from the cupboard above the oven.

There's more noise, but nobody else trying to get in his way, the path clear all the way to the door.

It's quiet in the hallway, and that alone leaves Eddie disoriented, swinging his head wildly, unsure which way you went.

"I'm down here."

You're on the floor a few feet away, head rested back against one of the lockers, and all of the bad shit goes away. It's that simple—like a light-switch—Eddie's panicked, and then he's not.

You're looking up at him with a soft kind of smile, despite the tight look in your eyes and sheen over your skin.

He slides down to the floor, long legs stretched out into the empty hall, shoes leaving little scuff marks across the linoleum.

"I'm sorry,"—you tell him as soon as he hits the ground, "about, you know. It was just, um, a lot."

"Don't be," he laughs, "that wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had."

The smartest idea he ever had was talking to you that first day, snatching you up before anybody else could.

Your tongue snakes out from between your lips, and Eddie has to physically hold himself back from tasting you. Your eyes dropped to his lap, your voice is small when you ask, "did you mean it?"

"Yeah, honey,"—probably should've kept the nickname to himself— "meant every word."

He's about to mumble something like, but if you don't feel the same it's totally fine, even though it definitely wouldn't be, when your head drops onto his shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know . . . just felt like a personal problem."

You laugh, and the sound shakes through him.

"I dunno, Eds. You being in love with me kinda sounds like something that I'd wanna know."

"I'll keep that in mind, for next time," he whispers. You're looking up at him with those big, soft eyes, breath pillowing against his face.

"It's the same for me," you tell him, "in case you were wondering."

In all the time Eddie's thought about kissing you, he never imagined it happening like this—on the floor with somebody's combination lock digging into his back. With your hands in his hair and the dull roar of the lunchroom somewhere nearby and his thumb tracing along your jaw and you smiling against his lips.

He was definitely missing out.

There's the metal clank of the door, and a chorus of footsteps somewhere down the hall. Eddie recognizes Dustin's voice.

"Oh my god, dude. Fucking finally."

[yandere-romanticaa]

I'm not sure if it's okay, but can I request a second part for this precious Douma post you fed us with please ?

If you don't do second part to your post, no problem, anything for him will calm my hunger 🥲

Here it is, the heavily requested part 2 of this piece. Hope you enjoy it!

Barely a week has passed ever since the horrific encounter with Lord Douma.

You recalled someone saying that the stench of death is permanent, that it is something you can never forget once you get a whiff of it.

The smell of rot and decay haunted you both day and night. Sleep became a scarce luxury as you would lay awake in the dead of night, wondering just what other poor soul was Lord Douma going to devour next. It all clicked once you put two and two together, of course he was a demon. His strange reactions, twisted attitude and carefree smiles were nothing but a mask to cover up his true, carnivorous nature. Douma clearly had a preference for women for his meals as you noticed that most of the people who ran amok were women.

Were you next?

Despite him not turning around and even outright saying that he wasn't going to do anything, you simply did not trust him. Why should you? He was a demon, a very clever one at that, clearly. He managed to trick hundreds of people into blindly following him and submitting to his every single little whim. All he needed to do was just say the word and the entire community would execute you without a question - Lord Douma's word was absolute.

You didn't even want to think about the other much more grizzly possibility if he wanted a more hands on approach.

Due to the encounter that you had unfortunately witnessed, your work had started to hinder. You became sloppy and shaky, you couldn't even perform the most basics of tasks. Someone else was always forced to step in for you and others voiced their concern for you.

"Why aren't you with Lord Douma? You always pour his afternoon tea!"

"I thought Lord Douma wanted you close by for the ceremony?"

Many similar statements would ring in your ears on a daily basis that it made you want to bang your head against a wall a pull out every single little strand of hair. Just how blind and stupid were there people?! There was no way that you were the only one who knew what was really going on behind closed doors. To make your living nightmare even worse than it really was, on one fine and sunny morning one little boy came up to you. With a cheerful smile on his face he said:

"Lord Douma wishes to speak with you! Please meet him in his chambers as soon as possible!"

Each step that you took felt more and more agonizing then it should have been. You felt like someone had placed a giant pile of rocks on your chest and chained them there. What were you to do, oh God, what were you supposed to do? Do you play dumb or should you come clean? If you told him the truth he might appreciate your honesty and let you off the hook -

...That was nothing but wishful thinking. There was no point in trying to make sense of a demon.

You arrive to his chambers, the doors closed shut. With a heavy heart you knock and a cheerful "Come in!~" is heard from the other side.

You don't dare look at Lord Douma directly in the eye. You lower your head in fear but do your best to make it look like a sign of respect. He sits on his makeshift throne, chin resting on one hand as the other urges you forward to sit in front of him. With your knees sinking to the ground you feel him reaching out towards you, his fingers were playing with stray strands of your hair.

You still did not raise your gaze.

"(y/n) dear, I haven't seen you in so long! I missed my favorite disciple so much! Why are you ignoring me?!"

Who would have thought that this whiney brat in front of you was a man eating demon? He sounded like a little boy, like he hadn't seen his favorite toy in a long time, which was partially true in a way. You grit your teeth and try thinking of something proper to say but Douma beats you to it.

"Do not ignore me."

Icy chills take over your entire being. Since... Since when did Lord Douma sound like that? You clenched the fabric your kimono, knuckles turning white due to the pressure. Suddenly, a sharp thug forced you to look upward and were met with a rainbow gaze.

"You aren't ignoring me, right, (y/n)?"

You can do nothing but gently shake your head. With his gaze glued to you it was impossible to breathe let alone speak. Feeling the pressure behind your skull lighten your shoulders slump forward as Lord Douma brings you closer and locks you in his embrace.

He knows.

He knows that you saw him. Why else would he summon you like this? Feeling helpless you could do nothing but wrap your arms around the cult leader, returning his hug in full.

Ignorance really was bliss.

You finally understood the beauty of it.

[stringsbasement]

Your art of peri and your Villain AU of him? perfection. I read your twt thread and I'm greedy for more, im so serious like If there was a 100k word fanfic of your au I would read it in a heartbeat!! THATS how much im obsessed with the concept

thank you so much! i didn't expect there to be so much interest in my thoughtless doodles and rambles. luckily, i already have a draft for a rant i formulated about this version of peri's possible motivations, and now i have an excuse to share it!!

also, as a bonus, have this silly doodle :)

[his hairstyle is his attempt to separate himself from his parents, but no matter what he does with it, he can never get it to sit without that stray tuft and curl at the very end.

also, his bowtie is in reference to chloe and my initial art of irep before his design was revealed. the latter almost makes it seem like they "swapped roles."]

the thing is, it's hard to imagine peri as someone purposefully wanting to harm others for his own pleasure. for a "bad" au of peri to occur, he'd have to take after timmy, and seek chaos the same way he did

now, timmy is a good person at heart. his fairies love him, and he loved them in turn. that's undeniable. however, timmy was so stressful he affected cosmo and wandas marriage, and they had to retire right after him to rekindle their love and stop being so awful towards each other. timmy was simultaneously one of the best and worst things to ever happen to them

so it's not that much of a stretch to think he'd affected peri during his development, to the point he unknowingly influenced peri's core beliefs, which he'll carry over later in life

timmy used his fairies to escape from his regular life. he was incredibly reckless, and shirked responsibilities till the consequences got him back tenfold. a dangerous, but fulfilling way of living. he might've mellowed out in the later years, but considering he chose to keep vicky around to purposefully make himself miserable and keep his fairies instead of facing reality, maturity wouldn't be a straight or easy path

peri, adopting this way of thinking, believes the best way to live life is taking risks. ignoring your present problems in favor of escapism. he would insist this upon his godchild, and be blind to the complex nuance of dev's situation

dev's parental neglect differs from timmy's, and thus requires different treatment. but peri doesn't realize that, and dev is a child who cannot comprehend how awful he really has it, let alone communicate it in a way that isn't just lashing out and throwing tantrums

for classic peri, this is an annoyance. for this peri though? he'll enable it, because he thinks dev needs to get it out of his system. like timmy. which is in some way correct, but it's a flawed, only temporary solution

and it's in this way a path of deeper exploration opens up about characters similar to cookie, highlighting how flawed the godparent system can be when a child is assigned a godparent who cannot fulfill what they truly need

starting a ghost apocalypse is nothing compared to the wishes that has been granted before. and, honestly, dev taking viozalia's staff to use against her is a clever move. this peri wouldn't be downtrodden like he was in the original scene, but impressed. he would say as such, and dev, being the emotionally starved 10 year old he is, will soak those words up like a dry sponge

(slightly off topic: i like to think a little quirk this peri would have is, instead of looking to da book of rules for guidance, (cosmo, wanda, and his classic self do this multiple times in the show when in unique situations,) he'd be searching for anything that states what can't he do. "what to do when your god kid tries to start a ghost apocalypse... nothing? sweet!")

this would naturally allow him and dev to bond a little more. even if it's just shit talking other people and how they're totally better than everyone else

it doesn't mean they get along splendidly. dev is still pissed that he can't make the wishes he wants, and peri overcompensates by allowing him to throw himself into situations that just narrowly avoids sanction. because, oh yeah, peri would not appreciate being forced to follow the rules which includes wiping the godchild's memories after the godparent's term has passed

(if anything, he'll find a loophole out of it. he learned from the best, after all)

this is also where peri's spoiled nature would shine through. being offered everything just because he was a baby would make anyone entitled

he and dev are too similar for their own good. they have have access to anything they could ask for, but are unable to get love from one person they want it from. it's almost pitiful

to keep those thoughts out of dev's (and his own) mind, peri resorts to pushing dev out of his comfort zone, which would ordinarily be a good thing, only, he goes way too far to the point of regression

you know, it really doesn't help that dev looks a lot like timmy. i mean, look at them...

that's timmy with slicked back hair and a white jacket. c'mon

but even with all of this, peri doesn't really become a villain. he's antagonistic at most, with his strained relationship with his parents and his help in making things harder for hazel. luckily, the latest episode has given me a few ideas

when peri inevitably comes to care for dev, he'll obviously has to do something about his constant unhappiness. dev has a point in complaining about the fact hazel has two godparents and he only has one, even when his life is "worse" (another unhealthy way of thinking,)

hmmmm. so how can dev have two fairy godparents, and how can peri break da rules without putting himself at risk?

who other than a mirror of peri's own self?

a shift inevitably took place, one where peri became more intense and irep more soft. it's so subtle it goes unnoticed until thousands of years have passed

irep has become timid, soft, and well-meaning. if peri either quits his position or gives way for another slot and puts dev under a sort of split-custody, dev will be able to use anti-fairy magic, which can completely bypass any of the rules regular fairy magic is withholden to

irep will get what he wants as well. in this post, i answered an ask in which i speculate that irep genuinely does want a godchild, and the love and appreciation that comes with it. that much would stay the same for this au

and, well, unlike irep, peri has always been willing to share

this would make way for a bunch of whacky hijinks, potential plots, and new threats. consequences piling up until they become too huge to ignore. not to mention the full implications of a fairy and anti-fairy switching roles. of course, this is just a fun idea i came up with on the spot, and i haven't thought it out too much, so pointing out any plot holes that would come from this is appreciated!

i have more to say, mainly about peri and his parents' initial separation, as well as the parallels that can be found with this version of peri and hazel, but i feel it would be best to end it here :)

thank you for making me write all of this!

[lustspren]

P.S.T EP. 1 | As You Wish ft Yuna

length: 10.2k words✦

Shin Yuna & Male Reader. 

genres: footjob, thighjob, foot worship, public sex, blowjob, oral sex, creampie  ✧ 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The night you came home after the Spa session with ITZY was one of doing everything on autopilot, you didn't really pay attention to what you were doing, your mind kept on what had happened a few hours ago, and above all, in the difficult, incredible and terrifying request that Yeji had made of you.

Normally your mind was scheming every second that passed, but the moment where you overthought things the most was when you went to sleep. You thought about many things with the blanket up to your chest and your gaze fixed on the ceiling, and the question that most frequently occurred to you was 'am I really up to it?'. The work you had done with them, even with the limitations already imposed by the work environment, had been impeccable, otherwise you wouldn't be in the situation you were in, but you couldn't help but think that the pressure could work against you at any time, even knowing that you were not going to have any limitations of any kind.

And well, the other questions that occurred to you were stupid things that your head threw at you just to piss you off, such as: 'What will they do if I don't please them? JYP is going to disappear me into a pool of sulfuric acid?' or also 'If I do something they don't like, will they cut my dick off?'. Quite normal questions that the human brain asks in stressful situations.

That night you went to sleep restless.

———————————————————————

The next morning you woke up to a message on your phone from an unknown number, but from the way it was written you could easily tell that it was from Hwang Yeji. The message didn't contain much, it was just a greeting, an address and a warning that emphasized that you should not arrive before 5 pm. You clearly weren't going to argue against that.

It was 10:13 in the morning on a Sunday, and despite having slept for more than 9 uninterrupted hours, you felt like a Bear whose hibernation was interrupted by a tremendously unavoidable situation and who hated his life. You made a quick breakfast, cereal and a couple of oatmeal cookies, and turned on the small TV in your kitchen to catch the day's news.

The truth was that you didn't even watch the news, your gaze was lost in nothing while your arm spooned cereal into your mouth from time to time, too busy thinking about what the hell you were going to wear to go, and that was just the beginning of the day.

———————————————————————

2:43 PM and you were still sitting on your bed, staring at your wide open closet as you pored over your options. You had never felt so Grinch in your life, you even made the faint of lying back on your bed and saying: 'That's it I'm not going', but your common sense made you realize that this was tremendously stupid .

In the end, enlightenment came to you on its own, you didn't want to dress like you were going to a Met Gala, but you didn't want to dress like a bum either. You opted for khaki baggy pants, white trainers, a gray hoodie, and a black baseball jacket with white over it. You saw yourself in the mirror a couple of times, and surprisingly, you considered that you were perfect for the occasion.

You left your building at around 3:03 PM, took your car and drove to the address written in Yeji's message. It was about 10 minutes driving until you arrived, realizing that you were in a residential villa, and that Itzy's bedroom was a 3-story townhouse. You weren't surprised at all.

The townhouse was a little further apart from all the others. Located on the hillside and not far from the forest. You had to admit that it was a beautiful, peaceful place with beautiful views, perfect so that no one would ever think of finding them there. Clever to say the least.

You parked the car on the road a few meters from the gate and got out of the car while you put the keys in your jacket pocket. You stood in front of the gate, and you stared at a camera located to the right for a few seconds until you took out your phone to tell Yeji that you were outside. You only received an 'I know' as a response. You saw the camera again and waved.

Less than five minutes passed when the automatic gate began to open, and when it reached halfway, you found yourself face to face with Yeji herself, as radiant and beautiful as she always was despite not even wearing makeup. She was wearing black sweatpants, gray crocs, and a white tank top with no bra underneath. Your gaze went to the clearly visible nipples for a moment, but then back to her eyes.

"Hello there, oppa," Yeji smiled with her gaze fixed on you, her hands clasped behind her back, "Welcome, I didn't think you'd be here so late."

"Hi! Thank you" you greeted back with a friendly smile, walking past her to stand on the other side of the gate, "Well, actually I spent most of the time debating with myself, sorry."

"Oh, you didn't want to come?" She raised an eyebrow in the most dangerous way, and then stepped forward to stand mere inches from you, "Did you think you'd miss out on the chance to get our pussies as much as you want? Really?"

"Well, if you say it that way..." you were going to finish the sentence until Yeji put her hand on the back of your neck and pulled you towards her so that you were inches from her face.

"You don't turn down an offer like that, darling, it would be sacrilege," she took one of your hands and brought it to one of her tits, so that you could feel and squeeze it over the fabric of her tank top, "And I would take that as an offense to us," she approached your lips as if to kiss them, you felt her breath, but as soon as your lips brushed, she pulled away from you.

"I… right, fuck, I'm sorry," you took a deep breath, closed your eyes and exhaled to calm yourself, "wasn't that a little risky doing that out here?"

"Nah, we live alone, it's safe enough here to do that," Yeji turned around and started walking towards the house, you followed her close behind.

"That sounds too good to be true," you commented, looking at the rectangular pool you were surrounding and the crystal clear water flowing through.

"Well you're right, our manager comes every day to check that everything is fine and in order," you walked to the right, straight towards one of the glass doors. Yeji opened it by sliding it to the left, and made you go in first, "But he only comes in the morning, and as soon as he arrives, he's gone."

Yeji guided you through the giant and beautiful house, giving you a quick mini tour of just the places you passed. You got to the second floor, and as soon as you climbed the last step, you found yourself facing another glass door that led to one of the balconies, where there was what appeared to be a large rectangular jacuzzi with two steps.

"Fuck, they spared no expense," you muttered, looking out.

To the right of the glass door were the stairs leading to the third floor, and you barely glanced left to see a familiar face in the room at the end of the hall. You and Yeji walked in that direction, and now you were in what was the living room of the house.

"Oh my, look who we have here," Ryujin said playfully, sitting with her legs drawn up on the far left of the giant beige leather sofa, which spanned at least 10 feet horizontally. She wasn't even fully clothed, just wearing a baggy black sweater and blue panties.

Ryujin wasn't the only one on the couch. To the right, slightly away from her, Chaery was lying, staring at her phone and her head resting on the armband, which you were sure was more of a pillow, and the sofa could also be used as a bed. She was also still in her pajamas, extremely short white shorts and a loose-fitting shirt of the same color.

"Hi girls," you greeted with a smirk and a little bow to both of them. Ryujin got up only to give you a peck on the cheek and sit back down, but Chaery just waved at you with her view still on her phone screen.

"Oh, don't mind her, she just woke up and she hates us all," Yeji said, leaving you standing where you were and entering an unseen hallway to your left. You assumed that she led to a bathroom.

"It's 3 in the afternoon, are you serious?" you chuckled.

"She fell asleep late watching an anime on Netflix," said another person to your left who you hadn't noticed because of how quiet and still she was. You turned to see Lia, sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen, next to the outlet where she had her phone connected. She did go with ordinary two-piece pajamas, blue cotton shorts and a tank top of the same color, however, she was not wearing a bra either.

"Which one?" you asked, with your hands in the pockets of your jacket to take a few steps forward and analyze the entire room, you were unable to calculate an exact price for such beauty, but the oak wood floor and furniture, together with the intrinsic system of lighting in the whole house had to be worth 10 times more than your apartment.

"The Seven Deadly Sins..." Chaery replied, her voice sounding as if her soul had been sucked out of her.

"Damn, you wasted your time, I'm sorry," you winced.

"Please don't remind me," she sighed.

"Hey, want to have a seat? You're getting on my nerves standing there," Ryujin said, patting a space next to her. You went and sat down. Sitting there you could see the rest of the space, in front there was a small brick wall that matched the floor, a boiler on the lower right side with a compartment to store firewood on the left, and installed higher up, a TV about 50 inches where they were watching Bluey. To the left of the brick wall, another glass door that also led to the balcony.

"Oh, where is Yuna? I haven't seen her," you said, watching the show with Ryujin.

"She must be in her room doing who knows what, she's been there ever since she woke up," Yeji replied, leaving the hallway she entered a few minutes ago and walking towards the kitchen. It wasn't even 5 seconds after Yeji said that when you saw a pair of feet go down the steps that led to the third floor.

"Speaking of Helen of Troy..." Ryujin muttered next to you.

Yuna patiently walked down the steps, as if she were the princess of a fantasy kingdom whose suitors they were eager to see, but her face and aura didn't take her too far from that status tho. She looked utterly charming to you. Pink pants, tight cropped t-shirt with an evident push-up bra, and white sandals that let her pretty feet shine. As icing on the cake, she wore a little pink hair pin on one side of her head. Inevitably your gaze went straight to her delicious bare midriff, she seemed to notice, because when you looked up to meet her eyes, she followed them until your eyes met.

"Hi oppa," Yuna greeted you with a smirk, her hands clasped behind her as she joined you in the living room.

"Hi, my lady," you joked, returning the smirk.

"You were still in your panties when I left the bedroom before he arrived, how did you do it so fast?" Yeji asked from the kitchen, pouring herself apple juice into a glass.

"I saw him coming through the window," Yuna replied puzzled, as if it was obvious.

"Yeah, but you didn't answer my question," Yeji leaned her back on the table, then took a sip of the juice.

"Oh, I just wanted him to see me pretty and dressed up," the innocent little smile returned to her face, "Not like you guys who look like you just got kicked out of bed."

"I was," Chaery said quietly, eyes still on her phone. You held back your laughter.

"Whatever," Yuna ignored her, "Oppa, do I look pretty?" She waved her hair from side to side and then turned to look at you flirtatiously over her shoulder.

"Very pretty, yes," you agreed.

"I know, thanks," she winked at you and turned around again, "shall we go?"

"Uh? Where?" You turned to see Ryujin, with whom you exchanged glances, and she showed you that she was just as confused as you.

"I don't know, take me around," she shrugged, "although now that I think about it, I've been in need of shoes lately."

"Shin Yuna, you have a different pair of shoes for each day of the week," Ryujin said.

"I said I need shoes!" she protested, frowning, "come on oppa."

"Honey, did you forget that you are an idol and that you can't go out like that?" Lia also intervened, "wear a cap, mask and if possible, a coat."

"And you," Yeji said, staring at you, "make sure she doesn't do stupid things."

"She does them normally?" You looked at Yuna, who was playing dumb.

"No, but when she's around a cute guy," Ryujin said, with a mischievous chuckle, "go ahead," she patted your shoulder, and you were forced to get up from the couch.

"I'll wait for you outside, okay? I'll go start the car," you said, stopping in front of Yuna, she looked into your eyes, and you saw her back. Two big glowing orbs.

"Of course," she agreed.

You walked past her, and before you started down the stairs, you stopped.

"Uhm… can someone go with me?" you asked with a nervous giggle, "I don't remember how to get out."

"Don't worry, I'll go," Ryujin got up from the sofa and walked towards you to follow you down the stairs.

"God, thank you," you sighed.

Ryujin led you through the labyrinth they called home again, and when you were crossing the narrow corridor that led to the hall on the ground floor, she stopped you abruptly and pulled you towards her, causing you to pin her against the wall. You froze at the unexpected movement.

"I hate that my turn is still so far away..." she muttered, grabbing your waist, "I already want that dick inside me so bad..." Her hand went straight to your bulge, she squeezed it over your pants, and you were tempted to kiss her, but you thinked twice.

"Stop, Yuna's going to be here any minute," you muttered back, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from your crotch.

"So what? She and I could suck your cock right here," Ryujin's eyes were fixed on you with great desire and lust.

"No, cutie, I'm sorry, it's her turn, it's her decision," you took the hem of her sweater and brought it up to her waist, held it with one hand, and with the other you rubbed her pussy up and down over the panties. She seemed surprised but not upset, "Relax, I'll make it worth the wait."

"You son of a…" she leaned forward slightly to kiss you, but she bit her lip to contain herself, "get out of here, the gate has a manual control on the side, the password is 120219."

"Very kind, see you later!"

And so you did. You separated from her, left the hall and followed the same steps as when you entered with Yeji. You circled the pool, and went to the gate. You entered the key as it was told, and it began to open slowly.

You went outside and went straight to your car, started it, and drove right to the front of the house to wait for Yuna. The aforementioned left the house a few minutes later, wearing a cap, face mask and black coat, she looked to the sides as a precaution so that no one was watching, and she got into your car.

"Are you ready, oppa?" Yuna asked, pulling down her mask but covering her face even more with the cap, "nice car, by the way."

"Thanks, it cost me two years of savings," you laughed, making a U-turn and starting to drive out of the residential village, "any specific place you want to go?"

"Take me to the Starfield, they have a Louis Vuitton store where they sell very cute shoes!" Yuna answered excitedly, but you only worried.

"You do know that everyone goes to that mall on the weekends, right?" you asked, eyes on the road.

"Oh, come on!" she complained, "No one will recognize me, I will not take off my cap or mask at any time."

"I know you won't, but I fear for some obsessive fan recognizing you just by…I don't know, your body."

"Well, that wouldn't surprise me..." you turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow, "Okay okay, sorry," she laughed, "but I still want to go, I'm a human being! Not a fucking circus animal."

"You have a point," you nodded, returning your gaze to the road, turning around a street to head up the highway, "As you wish, princess."

———————————————————————

You arrived at the mall after a drive of about 10 minutes, it was difficult to find a place to park, but you took advantage of the fact that someone was just leaving to take their place. Yuna put her mask up again, and before she got out of the car you grabbed her wrist.

"Hey, no talking to high concentrations of people, you'd be too obvious," you warned, putting the car keys in your jacket pocket.

"Understood," she nodded, and then you released her to get out of the car.

As you walked through the mall you could feel the tension take over every fiber of your body. You couldn't believe you were on that site with such a massive public figure like her, but it wasn't being with her that made you nervous, it was the fact that any wrong move could get her and you in trouble. You really didn't have to, but you made sure to keep some distance from her just in case.

Yuna was obedient in not speaking, she just silently led you through the shops until you reached the Louis Vuitton store. The storefront was simple, but exuded elegance and exclusivity. And thank God, with the naked eye there were only 8 to 10 people inside.

You entered in the most discreet way you could, glued to the wall without attracting too much attention and going directly to the shoe area. It was then that Yuna moved away from you a bit to be able to carefully examine the shelves and tables. A store worker approached her to serve her, and within a few minutes, she took a pair of slingback shoes from a table with the distinctive brown color of Louis Vuitton and the logos of the brand as a print. The manager left with them, and then returned with the same ones but her size.

Yuna took off her coat and handed it to you, and as you sat down, she took off her sandals to replace them with the pair of shoes she had just chosen.

"Well? What do you think, oppa?" Yuna lifted her leg and made you grab her ankle to get a closer look at her shoe, but you knew well that she did it to make you remember what happened just days ago. The shoes were very pretty, they exposed her ankle and the vast majority of her feet, except for her toes, they certainly looked very pretty on her.

"They look nice on you, but I think you could go for something more… uncovered, perhaps?" you asked, releasing her ankle. Hearing that, the guy serving her showed her a variety of options. Yuna chose some that you recognized, they were champagne-colored eleanor slide sandals, which you also knew were fucking expensive.

She took off her previous shoes and put on her sandals. She repeated the process, and you grabbed her ankle once more.

"Something like that?" Yuna asked playfully, moving her fingers slowly to tease you. You stared at her foot, and your first instinct was to want to grab her toes and start kissing them, but you were in a public place, and you only controlled the flashbacks.

"Those are perfect, cutie, they're a yes," you nodded, and then released her ankle.

She wasn't happy with just one pair, so she had the worker show her more. This time, she chose double-strap sandals in the same color as the first pair she chose and with the same print.

Once again, she made you grab her ankle but with the other foot, and if you had liked the sandals she tried on before, you loved these. You pretended to look down each side of her foot to see the sandal, but it was just an excuse so you could caress her ankle and the sides of her foot with your thumbs. After a few seconds, you released her ankle.

"I must say… they're my favorites so far," you smiled, looking into her eyes, "you should take these, and those," you pointed to the previous sandals.

"Okay... but I think I need to go to the dressing room for a moment, I have some discomfort in my..." she made a move to grab her tits, but she didn't, "you know."

"Uh?" You frowned in confusion, "well, go ahead, I'll be waiting for you out here."

"That way, miss," the worker said, gesturing with his palm toward a hallway farther to the left.

"Thank you," Yuna gave him a small bow, and she turned to go to the dressing room.

Not a minute has passed since Yuna left when you received a photo from an unknown number to your phone. It was Yuna. And it was a photo that had just been taken in the dressing room mirror, which had nothing special, it was just her standing facing the front, without her mask or cap on. What really caught your eye was the caption: 'Hey oppa, I don't think I can do it by myself... can you help me?'

You put your phone away immediately, and the first thing you saw was the worker in front of you. You couldn't just stand up and go in the same direction as Yuna, you had to find an excuse. You thought about it for a few long seconds, so that in the end you ended up resorting to a cheap and typical excuse.

"Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?" you asked, standing up.

"Oh, that way sir," the guy pointed back again, but this time to the other side, to a hallway to the right. Very timely.

"Thank you."

You stood up and walked to where he told you to, but before entering the hallway you stopped, looking over your shoulder and making sure he wasn't looking to run with silent footsteps in the other direction.

The dressing rooms consisted of two rows, one on each side, making a total of 8 changing rooms with closed doors whose lights were all off except for one, one that was at the end of the row on the left, the furthest from the corridor. You walked with slow and silent steps, until you arrived in front of the door. You tapped twice with your knuckle.

"Yuna-ssi?" You called, almost in a whisper.

"Come in, silly, you don't have to be so quiet," she replied a tone higher than you, and then she opened the door for you to step inside.

"What do you need help with?" you were probably being very stupid, but at that moment you didn't get her intentions, who knows why. Of course this would not last long.

"Absolutely nothing..." Yuna took her coat from your hand and let it fall to the ground, getting dangerously close to you.

"So?" You saw her eyes, your head had already reacted, but you wanted to play the fool, "I don't quite understand why you made me come here."

"Don't you get the idea?" she hugged your torso with both hands, making sure to press her tits against your chest.

"Mmm, I don't know, I think you should cut to the chase and that's it," you put both arms around her shoulders and hugged her too.

"I want you to fuck me here and now, oppa..." she muttered without taking her eyes off you for a single second. She then withdrew an arm from around your body and reached down to grab the bulge over your pants.

"Did you go crazy, honey?" You couldn't help but smirk, "They could catch us at any time, it would be such a mess," you bit her lip, as she massaged your cock until it was rock hard.

"I promise I'll be silent... besides, I want to know how it feels to do it in a public place," saying that, she broke the distance between your faces and crashed her lips against yours.

"You better be quiet..." you whispered in the middle of the kiss, your breaths heaving with each passing second, "you better."

You removed her arms from around her neck and now put them around her waist, and she took hers from around your waist to wrap one around your neck as her hand continued to massage your cock. The kiss gradually warmed up, until your tongues began to intertwine inside your mouths. Yuna let out little moans from time to time, and your cock was already beginning to beg to be free.

One of your hands went to her ass, while the other continued to cling to her perfect waist, pressing your fingers into her creamy flesh. Soon that hand joined the other, and with both you gave her ass a strong squeeze that caused her to bite your lip and separate your lips from hers.

"Enough, I want that cock inside me," she reached with both hands to the button of your pants and undid them, and with a strong yank, she lowered them down to your knees including your boxers.

You complete her work, pulling your pants and boxers down to your ankles to get them off your legs. Already naked from the waist down, you kissed her again and grabbed her by the waist to push her against the wall in front of you, you cornered her against it, and then you made her turn around.

Instinctively she pulled her ass back, pressing it against the back of your cock, but you held her still, and began kissing her long neck as you ran your hands around her waist to reach the button of her pants and undo it, then you unzipped it, and grabbed the curb to lower them right down to her ankles. Your only obstacle now was a white thong, which showed off her wide hips and her round buttocks.

"A thong? I didn't know Shin Yuna was so slutty," you murmured in her ear, and she shuddered. You took two of your fingers between her buttocks and rubbed up and down her pussy, noticing that the fabric was beginning to get wet.

"But you like it, don't you?" she reached back and grabbed your cock, stroking it slowly, "I think he loves it," she looked over her shoulder at you with a smirk.

"You're a pretentious bitch, with all due respect," you rubbed her pussy for a few more seconds until you got tired of teasing. You grabbed the seam of her thong and lowered it roughly, not to mention nearly ripping it off. You made her get out of her pants and panties, and with your foot you dragged them until you left them next to your boxer and your pants.

"I know, I love being reminded," that was the last thing she said before you put your hand over her mouth.

"Spit," you ordered, and so she did, leaving enough saliva in the palm of your hand that you quickly brought it to your cock and rubbed it down the length of it until it was well lubricated. You returned your hand to her mouth, but this time for other reasons. You took your cock with your left hand, and took it between her buttocks to rub it up and down against her slit. Feeling this, she arched her back more and more, leaned her hands against the wall and left her ass at your disposal to do whatever you wanted with it.

You pressed your hand to her mouth firmly, making sure no sound came out of it as you gently pushed your hips forward, slowly leaving the first few inches of your cock inside her suffocatingly tight pussy. That she was going to be silent was all bullshit, at least at first, because as soon as she felt you inside her, she let out a moan that, if it hadn't been for the fact that it was suffocated against your hand, would have been heard throughout the room.

Yuna's entire body tensed, it was being difficult to fully get in due to how tight she was, but you were patient, and leaned back from time to time to push at least another inch inside her. You continued with the same procedure until half of your shaft was inside her, you looked into her eyes, and she just nodded, giving you the green light to make the final move.

You pulled out of her pussy one more time, spit into your hand, and salivated as much as you could on your cock before putting it back inside Yuna. This time you pushed more gently into her, and when you reached the previous point, it was as easy as slowly pushing your hips forward of her until you filled her completely with your flesh. Yuna let out another louder and longer moan, and you had to add another hand to her mouth to make her shut up once and for all.

You stayed inside her for a few seconds without moving, letting her tight walls gradually mold to your cock, and after a few seconds, you began to slowly move your hips back and forth, your cock moving completely in and out of her pussy.

Yuna's brow was furrowed as you fucked her at a slow and careful pace, trying to make as little noise as possible, but as much as you wanted to be quiet, having Shin Yuna pinned against the wall while you fucked her from behind warranted more energy from your part. Making sure you had a tight seal on her mouth with both of your hands, you began to move your hips faster, with thrusts that rocked her body back and forth with each crash of your pelvis against her ass.

You were incredibly tempted to do a lot of things, like pull her hair, or grab onto that pretty little waist while fucking her furiously, but you should have just kept at that pace, not slow but not aggressive either, perfect for a situation where you wanted to turn her crazy but not that crazy

Yuna seemed to remember what she had promised you a few minutes ago, as it was fairly easy for you to suppress her little whimpers of pleasure as you fucked her tight, wet pussy as fast as the situation allowed. That wasn't being enough for you, that's why you pulled her towards you and pressed her back against your chest, from that position it was easy for you to fuck her hard without making noise, and you did, starting to move your hips frantically. Inevitably that led to a double effort on your part to drown out her moans, but you didn't give a single fuck.

You were so immersed in your own pleasure that you did not even realize that a person had entered the dressing rooms, you had not heard the footsteps, but you did hear the knocks against your door. You stopped immediately, and Yuna's eyes widened as she looked towards the door to your left.

"Excuse me miss, is everything okay? You can't be in there that long," said the voice of the worker from the other side of the door.

"A-ah... yes! Everything is fine!" Being a bit bitchy, you continued to fuck her, but this time much more slowly and torturously, "I j-juuust need a couple m-more minutes," she gasped, "t-tell the g-guy that came with me that I-I won't be long."

"He went to the bathroom, miss, but when he gets back I'll tell him."

"Very kind, th-th-thank you."

There was silence, and the next thing you heard was the guy's footsteps walking away from the door, and consequently, from the dressing rooms.

"H-holy fucking shit, oppa..." she squeaked under her breath, looking over her shoulder at you, "that cock feels so… so good."

"And you'll feel better, come here."

You pulled out your cock, made her turn around and wrapped your arms around her slender body to give her an upward lift, she got the message and clung to your torso with her long legs, entwining them behind your back. You held her tight in the air, then leaned her back against the wall to push your cock back into her pussy. She was about to moan out loud, but you crashed your lips against hers in a fiery and deep kiss.

Yuna also grabbed onto your neck with both arms entwined around it, and she played with the hair at the nape of your neck between her fingers as you slammed her pussy against the wall. At this point, the noise you made was enough so that anyone passing near the door could perfectly hear the sound of your crotches colliding, but being prisoners of lust and adrenaline at the moment you didn't even think about it.

You untangled her legs from behind your back and went on to hold them yourself in the air, spreading them wide so you could fuck her pussy from the best possible angle. Yuna moaned like crazy against your mouth, and in response you just kept pumping in and out of her pussy without actually crashing your pelvis against her, but making sure that she felt your entire length go in and out of her pussy.

After a few seconds, Yuna grabbed your shoulders and dug her nails into them while her entire body shuddered in an unannounced orgasm. You held her legs tight while she writhed against the wall, and you didn't stop kissing her or fucking her for a single second.

Her pussy walls clenched around your cock so hard you thought she was going to rip you in half, but it felt so fucking good that you couldn't help but moan against Yuna's lips. Your moans overlapped each other, and you soon felt a tingle in your lower abdomen.

"Y-yuna... I'm going to cum, where-"

"Inside," she interrupted between little whimpers, while she was still past the last shimmers of her orgasm and she was looking into her eyes.

"But... are you sure?" you asked, slowing down the pace of your thrusts a bit.

"I prepared myself for this, idiot, just fucking do it," she sighed, smashing her lips against yours again.

You just let yourself go. You resumed your quick thrusts, clinging as tightly as you could to her legs with your fingers. Her pussy gave way for you, now less tight but wetter for your cock to slide in and out smoothly. It didn't take long for you to reach your peak of pleasure, it only took a few more hard pumps until you exploded inside her tight little pussy. You broke the kiss only to let a small moan into the air, moving slowly as you shot all your hot load into Yuna, who seemed to enjoy it as much as you did to feel the fluids rush inside her.

"Fuck… you came so much, oppa," she whispered, biting your lower lip, "it feels so good inside me."

Gradually you stopped between heavy breaths, and you left your cock inside for a few more seconds until you pulled it out very slowly, and as if it were a drain plug, your cum began to spill from inside her little by little to the ground under you two. You looked down, seeing the pool of thick white liquid that formed on the not at all subtle dark floor.

"I'm not cleaning that up," you murmured, your breath still ragged.

"We don't have to either," she chuckled, "thanks oppa, you already fulfilled one of my fantasies," she said with a smirk, giving you a little kiss on the nose.

"You're welcome, cutie," you finally put her down, and she avoided the best she could step on the cum, "You'll go out first, and you'll have to distract the worker while I go out."

"Understood," she agreed, "I'll take the opportunity to go pay."

"Are you really going to take those designer sandals?" you asked, picking up your pants and boxers to start dressing, "I seem to remember that they're fucking expensive."

"Honey, do you forget who I am?" she asked with the air of a pretentious bitch, you certainly weren't wrong a few minutes ago.

"Okay, I'm sorry my lady," you joked, watching her pull on her panties and then her pants.

"I'll see you outside, oppa," she stood in front of you, placed a hand on your chest and gave you a peck on the cheek, "be discreet, okay?"

"Didn't you forget something?" you asked, glancing at her cap and her mask.

"Oh, yeah, sure," she played dumb, as if she clearly hadn't been about to walk out like that, "don't be long," she said after putting on her mask and cap.

Yuna turned around and opened the door a little to see outside, and seeing that no one was coming, she went out and left you there alone. You waited around 5 or 6 minutes on the clock until you came out too, feeling like Austin Powers in one of his misdeeds. Luckily for you, the people who had entered the changing rooms were already inside their respective cubicles, and none of them had seen you.

You walked out of the hallway, and with your balls in your throat, you peeked out to make sure no one was looking your way. You ran to the other corridor, the one that led to the bathrooms, and you left there as if you had been there all this time. When you walked to the place where you were sitting before, you noticed that Yuna was no longer around, you even peeked over to make sure that she was still paying. You double checked that you had everything on you, wrapped Yuna's coat around your arm and walked out of the store, avoiding all possible eye contact with any worker or person in there.

As expected, Yuna waited for you outside the store patiently, with the bag from the store between her feet and her hands clasped behind her lower back. You quickly ran towards her.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" You looked around, making sure no one was paying too much attention to her, "Put your coat on!" you were probably overreacting, Korea was big enough for everyone in the mall to realize that she was who she was, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

"Oppa, calm down," she laughed, taking the coat from your arm and putting it on with all the patience in the world, "it's not that easy to get recognized as an idol, besides, I have black hair, I could be any average Korean girl. "

"You have a point, but I don't want to be risky," you took the bag from her, and pulled out your phone to check the time, "Hey, can we go now?"

"Yep, let's go!"

You left the mall in a matter of a few minutes, you went to your car, and you left the Louis Vuitton bag in the back seats. You opened the passenger door for Yuna to get in, and then you also got in to start the car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the villa.

"When I drop you off at home tell Yeji to let me know when I can come back, okay?" you said, with your eyes on the highway.

"Oh, do you think the day is over for both of us?" Yuna asked, raising both eyebrows. She had taken off her cap, and she was looking at you with a quizzical expression, "You seem to have forgotten that you almost ate my feet a few minutes ago."

"And you almost didn't put them in my mouth, I think it's your fault too."

"It's just, you see...I really enjoyed our little session when we first met," she placed her hand on your thigh, "and I'd like to repay you well, oppa."

"Oh yeah? And how do you plan to do it?" you made sure you didn't have any cars in front or on the sides before turning to see her.

"I think…" she moved her hand up your thigh a little, near your crotch, "that cock would look really nice between my feet."

You had never stepped on the accelerator so violently in your life, but there was a first time for everything. You drove around 100 km/h on the highway, pulling out all your Baby Driver skills until you hit the road and relaxed your foot. Yuna could only laugh at your despair and sudden interest.

The scene would have been more spectacular if only you hadn't forgotten some crosses, Yuna had to remind you of the way to be able to continue and finally reach the girls' house. You parked the car right in front of the gate, turned it off, and got out to get the bag from the back seats. Yuna beat you to it, and went to open the gate with a remote control that she took out of her back pocket.

"There was a remote control this whole time?!" you asked, closing the back doors, locking the car and walking inside with her.

"Yup, but they were nowhere to find it," she laughed, "it was in my room all this time."

"Damn..." you sighed.

Yuna led the way, and you followed her into the house. You quickly went up to the second floor, and when you went up the stairs, just passing through the corridor was Yeji, who stared at you when you were about to go up to the third floor.

"Don't blame me if I walk in while you're doing it, it's my bedroom too," she warned, then walked out of sight toward the sofa.

"She's kidding, don't worry... or so I think," she hesitated for a moment, "well, follow me."

You followed Yuna up the stairs, took a hallway to the right, and went to one of the doors at the bottom. Yuna opened the door for you, and when you entered, you found a somewhat messy bedroom. There were clothes everywhere on both beds, including panties and bras of all colors and types.

"Did a tornado pass through here or what?" you said, taking a step forward and putting the bag down while Yuna got off her cap, mask and coat.

"Be thankful that we're messy and not dirty, it's just clothes," she got up on one knee on the bed on the right and began to gather all the clothes on top of it into a single pile and then dump it on the floor.

"Is it dirty clothes?"

"... Some," she said, looking down at the pile of clothes, "but let's not waste time on these things, come here, oppa."

She stood facing the bottom edge of the bed, and you closed the distance between the two of you by standing inches from her. You took her by her waist, and she wrapped her arms around your neck before joining your lips in an intense kiss, without intending to be delicate or tender. You planted your dominance from the start, pressing the flesh of her waist between your fingers as you dug deeper into her kiss. Yuna understood that foreplay wasn't even necessary at that point, so she simply sat on the edge of the bed and started undoing your pants once more. She lowered them to your knees, and you helped her off along with your boxers, freeing your still flaccid cock.

Yuna took off her shirt, and then she also took off her bra. Your gaze went straight to her tits, noting that she could very well be Itzy's second biggest after Yeji. You couldn't focus on her pretty tits for much longer as she took your weak cock and began to stroke it slowly.

"Oppa... be patient with me, okay?" she said, looking up, "I've never done this before."

"You don't have to worry, honey," you said, tucking her hair behind her ear and brushing her cheek with your thumb, "go ahead."

"Okay..." she looked down again at your cock, which was slowly starting to get hard thanks to the long fingers of Yuna's hand going up and down.

She leaned forward, and licked her lips before taking the tip of your cock into her mouth. You gasped, feeling the warm relief of her lips sucking slowly until your cock was fully erect. Yuna wrapped her fingers around your base and began to move her mouth little by little towards the middle of your shaft. She looked insecure, you could tell by how she looked into your eyes every few seconds, but the best you could do was nod with your head and keep rubbing her cheek and her hair.

That seemed to give her a little more assurance that she was doing a good job. She took you out of her mouth for a moment to get air, stroking your cock before taking it back inside her. This time she began to move her head at a more fluid and less leisurely pace, never going past the middle of your shaft, but that was enough for her to make you feel pretty good. She didn't give head as well as Yeji or Ryujin, but with a little practice she could become just as good.

During the first minute she dedicated herself to observing you carefully, noticing what movements you liked the most or what she liked that she did, and when she finally studied you, she began to move her head faster in a very messy blowjob. Her pretty pink lips glided smoothly over your hard cock now shiny from her saliva, and you took it upon yourself to let her know you liked it with little moans and facial expressions.

"Try to take more of it cutie..." you gasped, your hand on her head. She hesitated for a moment, but to your surprise, she began to push her head further, and further forward, until her nose was resting against your pelvis, "What the f… holy shit Yuna!" you moaned out loud.

She was able to take your cock down her throat for a few long seconds, but you also noticed that she was struggling as she did so, her face was scrunched up, and she was constantly making gagging sounds. Saliva flowed free from her mouth to her tits, and when she couldn't take it anymore, she took you out of her mouth with a long breath. Your cock was connected to her lips by thin threads of saliva, and you couldn't believe how unbelievably sexy yet cute she looked like that and with the pink bobby pin still attached to the side of her hair.

"Did you like that, oppa?" she said looking into your eyes as she quickly moved your hand up your cock.

"I fucking loved it, how can you do that with no experience?" you asked panting.

"I have a long neck, I don't know if that has anything to do with it," she collected the saliva from her lips with her free hand and returned it to your cock, stroking it with both hands.

"Honestly, I have no fucking idea, but come here, you deserve your due special attention, honey," you grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from your cock. Then you took her by her waist, and you made her get closer to the center of the bed and lie down on it.

You took off your jacket and hoodie, leaving yourself completely naked before climbing into bed with her. You placed yourself on top of her body, your two hands on either side of it. You lowered your face towards her neck, giving her small kisses and licks and slowly going down her attractive and marked clavicle. You stood there for a moment, but the two well-formed round mounds below caught your attention. Your mouth went right to one of her tits, sucking and licking her hard nipple while your hand massaged her other boob. Yuna moaned under her breath, and tangled her fingers in your hair as you now slowly lowered from the middle of her breasts to her abdomen. At that point, you made sure to spread a good amount of kisses all over her tummy and waist, and as you reached her lower abdomen, you used your hands to undo her pants, unzip them, and grab the hem of her pants and her panties, lowering both garments slowly until they were off her legs. Now both you and Yuna were completely naked in front of each other.

"Will you give me my special service, oppa?" she asked, biting her index finger, and picking up both of her legs to leave both of her feet in the air right in front of your face.

"Count on it, honey," you grabbed her by both ankles, and brought her feet up to your face to stick one of them directly into your mouth. You sucked on her toes one by one, placing special emphasis on her big toe. You used your tongue to salivate them and lick them all over, and once you were satisfied with one foot, you went straight through with the other to repeat the process.

With both feet salivated, you moved on to the second phase, which was to spread deep, wet kisses along her soles, the sides of her feet, and her ankles as well. You kept worshiping her feet for a few more minutes, until you began to move from her feet to her thighs, passing first through her tibia and her knee.

She instinctively spread her legs wide for you, revealing her pretty, shiny pussy. Your cock was more than ready to go in there one more time, but you had to hold back. You lowered your face until you were right in front of her slit, but that wasn’t your goal for now, but to plant more kisses both on the inside of her thighs and on the bottom, not resting until they were wet from your saliva.

Yuna let you have as much fun as you wanted with her pretty long legs, and so you did, even going so far as to kiss her just inches from her pussy, which was screaming to be eaten. After distributing a few more kisses, you stood up to take her by her ankles again, bring them together in front of you and begin to massage her feet slowly.

"Tell me, miss, do you want your pussy well eaten?" you asked, looking into her eyes and noticing that her face was slightly flushed, "or do you prefer a big cock that fills you up."

"I'm tempted by both options, sir," she played along, while you kept pressing your thumbs on her sole and on the back of her foot, "but I already tried one today, I'd prefer the other option."

"As you wish, ma'am," you released her feet, separated her legs, and leaned forward while holding onto her thighs.

You breathed hot breath over her wet pussy, causing Yuna to shiver a little on her mattress. You played with her for a few more seconds, kissing and licking the contours of her slit until you finally planted your tongue flat between her folds, giving her a slow upward lick that made her moan.

After the first lick you began to move your tongue slowly up and down, tasting her silky folds to give her clit a very light suction. Yuna grabbed your hair and started moaning constantly. You kissed far and wide without stopping to use your tongue for a single moment, Yuna's fingers got tangled in your strands, and you responded by licking her pussy faster now.

In no time you were eating Shin Yuna's delicious pussy for dinner. You focused on her clit right away, giving it frantic lashes with your tongue. Her moans quickly turned into squeals of pleasure, and she began to arch her back every time you touched one of her sensitive spots. You looked up, watching her chest heave up and down as she played with her own tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

You pressed your fingers harder against the flesh of her thighs, making sure she didn't move them for a single second despite the fact that she had already had some prior reflexes. Her adorable whines were music to your ears. You continued to attack her clit with the tip of your tongue, occasionally dipping down her folds to collect her delicious fluids. You decided to stick a bit of your tongue inside her entrance, and as soon as you did, she let out a louder squeal. Noticing that she had enjoyed it, you left your tongue inside her and began to move it in circles as fast as you could. Yuna pulled your hair so hard you thought she was going to rip it out, and it wasn't long before she exploded in your mouth.

Yuna squirmed like a rag doll on the bed, and you held her tightly against the mattress so that her pussy wouldn't move away from your mouth while you stuck your tongue out of her and licked her folds from top to bottom. You didn't stop eating her pussy, you just lowered the intensity considerably until her orgasm gradually reduced her spasms, that's when you released her thighs, which she simply dropped to each side of your body.

You gave her pussy a few more licks, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and straightened up to meet her eyes.

"Satisfied, ma'am?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll be more satisfied when you use my legs and feet to cum, oppa..." she muttered between heavy breaths, seeing your hard cock still sticky from her saliva.

You didn't even think twice before grabbing her legs and putting her on her side. You lifted her left leg, spit on your cock, letting it rest against her right leg, then lowered the leg you'd lifted back down to leave your shaft in a smooth sandwich of soft flesh. Yuna looked into your eyes, bit her lower lip and looked down, seeing the tip of your cock slightly protruding from between her thighs.

Without taking too much time you began to rock your hips back and forth, letting your cock slide completely in and out of her between her pretty, perfect thighs. You left your left hand clinging to her small waist, and the other went straight for her boob, which was starting to jiggle as your thrusts got faster and faster.

Her thighs definitely made your cock absolutely nothing to miss from her pussy, it was just as tight and soft but in a different way that was also driving you fucking crazy. Your hand squeezed her breast firmly, while your thrusts began to shake her from front to back thanks to the impact of your pelvis against her thighs.

With each of your pumps your cock also rubbed her wet pussy with the left side of it, which added an extra bit of utter and pure pleasure to your senses. You let go of her breast and her waist, only to grab her ass cheek and give it a hard squeeze, followed by a spicy spank that made her squeal. You kept your hand on her ass as you continued to use Yuna's legs for your own pleasure, and it felt so good that you closed your eyes and moaned.

"Use my feet oppa… use my feet and cum on them," she pleaded between gasps.

You did not answer anything and you limited yourself to comply with her wishes (which were also yours). You stopped the thrust of your hips and pulled your cock out from between her thighs, grabbed her around her waist and made her lie on her stomach. Yuna propped herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder at you, lifting her feet to place them both around your throbbing cock. Once again you spit on your hand, but this time to bring it to her feet and make them as slippery as possible.

You grabbed both of her feet and held them together, pressed against your cock to resume your frantic hip swings. Your cock slid in a very fucking hot way between her sexy feet, and both you and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Your hands couldn't go anywhere else but her feet, but you didn't care, having that perfect view of her wide ass, her hot back and her lust-filled face was more than enough to complement your ecstasy.

Her pretty feet served as your cock sleeve for the next two minutes, and between strong and intense thrusts, you began to feel blood rushing against your cock. You pumped a few more between the soles of her until you quickly stopped and pulled your shaft out of there, keeping a grip on her ankles with one hand while with the other you quickly jerked your cock off.

"That's right, oppa… give my little princess feet all your cum, please!" she moaned, watching as your hand quickly rubbed your cock.

As soon as she finished that sentence you exploded, releasing thick, hot streams of white liquid directly onto her now slightly red feet. You moaned out loud and closed your eyes for just a second as you emptied your balls between her toes and her sole. You opened your eyes again when the last jets came out of your tip, seeing Yuna's feet painted white everywhere. Your breathing was agitated. You released her ankles, and let your cock rest throbbing against her toes.

You two were silent for a few long seconds, where only both heavy breaths could be heard, when suddenly the bedroom door opened. Yuna was startled, but you were so exhausted that you didn't even flinch.

"Oops, sorry guys," Yeji apologized, walking between the beds to open a drawer in the nightstand and take out a charger, "Uh, you want toilet paper, a wet wipe, anything?"

"You could clean my cock with your mouth, right?" you asked rather boldly, raising your head to look at her sideways.

"I would, but it would lead to other things, and I don't have time for that right now darling," she wailed, then turned to Yuna, "Did you enjoy your feet being used, you little slut?"

"Shut up and give me the wet wipes, please," Yuna whined, her face flushed red between pleasure and embarrassment.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming, don't be a crybaby," she went to a hairdresser they had in the bedroom and took the packet of wet wipes to toss it to one side of you, "Oh, by the way," she saw you, hand on the doorknob, "you can stay the night if you want, our manager won't come tomorrow and we'll watch a movie."

"But I didn't bring any more clothes..."

"So what? You can walk around naked if you want, none of us will care."

"Well, if you say so," you sighed, taking a wet washcloth and beginning to clean Yuna's feet as Yeji left the room.

"I really thought she wasn't going to come in here, what a bitch..."

"Are you satisfied now, ma'am?" you asked, now using another wet wipe for the same job.

"Quite a lot, oppa," she nodded with a wide grin, "but... can you come kiss me?"

"As you wish," you put the wet wipes aside, and went to lie down next to her body. You wrapped your arms around her body, brushed a few strands of hair from her face, and pressed your lips against hers, beginning with a kiss that would last for at least twenty more minutes.

———————————————————————

Spren Notes:

Here's a treat for the little jerk who insulted and annoyed me by asking me for a "part two" for Post Stress Therapy. Oh right, I blocked him lmao.

I have nothing to add here, but this is a special gift for the most die-hard lovers of Yuna's legs and feet ;).

If you, dear reader, are interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I’ll be delighted!

[ilovejungwonandhaechan]

a little knack — yjw pt. 1

pairing: acadmic rival!jungwon x academic rival!reader

🎧 - earned it by the weeknd

note: jungwon is the student council president and the salutatorian (2nd rank) and reader is the valedictorian (1st rank). there's just a lot of tension in between them tbh

a/n: first fic!! not proofread bc i'm lazy lol i feel like i'm manifesting being sal or val at school #academicweapon??

wc: 624

fic under the cut!

jungwon is focused on some paperwork in the student council room. he is wearing headphones, jamming his favorite song at the moment when he suddenly looks up to the person by the door. upon seeing you, he sighs loudly, pausing his music before looking at you unamused.

“bitch, what was that reaction?”

jungwon arches an eyebrow as his earphones dangle on his neck. “wow. language, please.”

“oh, yes, dearest student council president. i will do anything you say because you’re an elite. my lord and savior.” you giggle as you spew sarcastic words out of your mouth.

“watch your tongue. i might get used to you calling me ‘dear' and ‘lord’ all the time.” jungwon’s slight smirk turns into a mocking grin upon hearing your sarcastic response. he puts down the pen he had been holding and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“you wish, bitch.” upon hearing you emphasize the word ‘bitch’ like that, jungwon’s amused attitude slowly starts to change: his jaw muscles twitch and he narrows his eyes at you. jungwon lets out an annoyed huff, clearly frustrated. he studies you for a moment, his gaze intense.

“you know what? i’ve had enough of your attitude.” he stands up from his chair and walks around the desk to stand right in front of you.

“why? are you sad you only got a 98 on the bio test while i got a perfect score? oh, poor, poor jungwon.” you said as you challenged him by walking closer.

jungwon grits his teeth at your words, obviously upset by hearing you flaunt your higher academic standing. his eyes darken while his gaze burns into yours. “oh, you think you’re so clever, huh? is that your way of trying to get under my skin? your attititude is irritating. you think you’re better than everyone else.”

you take a step closer to him and send him a wink and a smug smile. “oh, honey… being valedictorian means i am better than everyone else.”

“you really think you can mess with me like this, don’t you? with your damn smirk and smart talk?" he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you guys. your chests are almost touching. jungwon’s jaw clenches after seeing your wink and smile. he’s trying to keep his cool, but you’re really testing his limits.

“well, yes because that’s what i’m doing right now, am i not?” you take another step forward.

he takes another step forward. “i think you like seeing me mad. i think you like the effect you have on me.” he mutters through clenched teeth with his minty breath fanning your face.

“correction: i like the effects. plural.” 

jungwon’s heart skips a beat after hearing your correction, and the smirk on your face drives him over the edge. he reaches forward and grabs your shoulders, pushing you backward until your back is pressed up the wall. “you’re enjoying this, aren't you?”

“you stand corrected because you clearly like this more than i do. of course, you would like the thought of someone catching us like this and getting all the wrong ideas, wouldn’t you?”

jungwon’s chest is pressed against yours. his body traps you against the wall. he’s breathing heavily from frustration, and his expression is still angry with a hint of something else. “and what if i do? what if i like the thought of someone seeing us like this?”

you lean in and whisper in his ear, “then it’s clear what kind of effects i really have on you.” you smirk at him, push him off, and exit the room confidently.

he lets out a frustrated sigh. running a hand through his hair, he mutters under his breath, “damn it."

read part two here!

[anxiousnerdwritings]

in an add on to the older!Potter!sister prompt Percy was canonically working as the Assistant to the Minister when Dumbledore and Harry started trying to warn people about Voldemort’s return but the Minister refused to believe it — it was something Percy was willing to overlook despite his family’s disapproval for the sake of keeping his well paying, impressive job because “no, I’m not quitting my job when we have a mortgage, mum, stop” but the moment Fudge got desperate and started on the Dumbledore + Potter slander campaign Percy just up and quit

que a surprised pikachu face from Fudge and Percy just squints at him and is like “you were literally at my wedding, stop talking shit about my wife” and just dips

for a little bit he stresses about not having a job and his darling becoming an obvious target in the war and “oh my god, what about the mortgage?” but this time it’s her turn to squint and she’s like “we only took a mortgage because your to proud and traditional to let your wife pay for shit, Percy, I have like fifty thousand galleons, shut up❤️”

I love the idea of Percy being a spy for the Order but strictly because of the Reader in this situation. He just keeps his head low and sticks to doing his job, the job he’s clawed his way to get to mind you. The only thing that gets him through day by day is the thought of being able to give his darling and future children the life he always wished he had. But with that being said, he’s not stupid either. No, he actually sees Fudge for who he is and that’s a coward. He knows that Fudge is only using him to see what information he can give the Ministry about Dumbledore and the Potters. And the fucking audacity for Fudge to actually think Percy would ever give him anything regarding his precious beloved darling. Like sure, the man was at their wedding but that was more to sell the guise of Percy being on the Ministry’s side when in reality he couldn’t give three shits, let alone one, about Fudge. But Percy continues to mind himself and play his part perfectly.

But the second anyone mutters a fucking word about his precious darling, they’re fucked. Percy does a pretty good job with getting revenge on those who hop on the Potter-hating bandwagon without getting caught, and he comes up with some pretty clever and humorous ways going about that would even have the twins shocked. It isn’t until Fudge himself says something completely off the cuff that Percy finally has enough and walks out. After that, everything pretty much goes to shit with the Ministry

I do love the idea of Percy being under the belief that they have a mortgage when they don’t in fact have one, whether Potter!Reader already paid it off herself or they live in the house on Spinner’s End that didn’t come with a mortgage to begin with.

[alphajocklover]

Hi! How about if a nerd, or maybe a science teacher gets a bush by the jock of the school and he realizes a bit too late that his body is changing. It hits him that the sport teams didn’t have a coach for a while now, but that couldn’t be what’s happening, right?

Ned Stanson had hated highschool. The entire 4 years were absolute hell. He, having been an incredibly nerdy chemistry prodigy who everyone could easily tell wasn’t entirely straight, was constantly harassed by the popular jocks. They’d mock him, push him down, stuff him in his locker and perform incredibly cruel pranks. The jocks at his school weren’t smart or clever, but they were thorough. It was constant. He never felt safe, not for a moment, even outside of school. He didn't relax a moment until he was off to Harvard, and even then he was way too busy getting his double major in chemistry and education to really do anything except study. So why, after the years of torment that Ned had been through, that he still hadn’t gotten over, did he ever think it was a good idea to go back to his old highschool?

Ned put it down to desperation. A college degree, even with a double major, didn’t go as far as it used to, and he had no prior experience. He needed a job, badly, and his old highschool, Luther High, was eager to have him back. He expected it was because it made for good publicity more than anything else. The famous chemistry prodigy who went to Harvard, coming back to his old high school to teach a new generation. That, plus the general prestige of having a Harvard graduate working at your school, would do wonders for the small town highschool. So, drawn in by the surprisingly large salary, Ned forced himself to go back to his old school. He tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be the same, that as a teacher he would have all the power. He wouldn’t have to be afraid of jocks and athletes anymore. He could even help a few nerds the way he had once wished his teachers would help him. Things would be different.

He was right. Things were different. Maybe too different. Ned had found that teaching high school level chemistry was actually quite nice. He had always enjoyed teaching, it was just that he had pictured himself teaching college students, going over more advanced material. But something about going over the basics, introducing young minds to the world of chemistry, was thrilling. He felt amazing. Powerful even. Maybe a little too powerful. He wasn’t doing it consciously, and he felt like crap whenever he noticed it but… he found himself being especially hard on the jocks. They hadn’t done anything to him. He hadn’t even seen any of them bullying nerds like the jocks did back in his day. But some sadistic little part of Ned couldn’t help but pick on them. He’d give them harder questions, offer less help, and he even found himself being downright cruel and mocking them.

He knew he should stop but it felt so… cathartic. It was like he was getting his revenge, after all these years. Maybe that was why the kid he targeted most was Dylan Cooper, the little brother of his worst tormenter growing up. Ned knew it was wrong. A teacher bullying a student was way worse than a student bullying another student, no matter how bad the harassment he went though had been. But every time an opportunity to humiliate the legacy jock came up, he found he just couldn’t resist. After a few weeks of this he knew it couldn’t continue. He asked Dylan to stay after class so that he could explain himself and ask forgiveness. He knew he might be reported to the school board and fired, but… he couldn’t deal with the guilt anymore. As he sat at his desk, Dylan across from him, he tried to find the right words. Dylan spoke before he could, his voice cocky and confident.

“I know what you’re gonna say teach. You’ve been treating me like crap because my big bro used to beat your nerdy ass when you went to school together.” Dylan said with a slight smirk, shocking Ned. How did Dylan know about that? Did his father tell him? Dylan continued, a strange look on his face

“… look, what my bro did to you was shitty. I used to be a bit of a bastard myself till my old football coach set me straight. But you know taking out old grudges on students is fucked up. I can tell you do. You get this guilty look on your face whenever you talk to me.” Dylan said, shocking Ned further. Ned remembered hearing about the football coach. He had been let go shortly before Ned was hired. Everyone said good things about him, and Ned had kind of wished he had met the guy. Finally he spoke, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Dylan, I am… I am so sorry. You’re completely right. I’ve acted completely unprofessionally. If you want… I’ll resign.” Ned offered. Dylan smiled slightly

“No need for that teach. I’ll forgive and forget everything. But you have to do something for me.” Dylan said. He took out what looked to a plastic whistle on a chain “The football team needs a new coach. I’m not asking you to say yes. Just… try on the whistle. See how it feels. Then tell me.” Dylan said. Ned hesitated. Something about this felt wrong… but Dylan was being so forgiving. How could he say no? He took the whistle and slowly slid the chain around his neck. Suddenly the world spun around Ned, his vision blurring. He felt like his entire body was stretching as his mind burned. He ended up blacking out, only for Dylan’s familiar voice to cut through the darkness.

“Coach… Coach… Coach!” Ned sat up with a start, looking around. What… What had happened? He looked over at Dylan, confused.

“What happened kid?” Ned asked, his throat feeling strangely rough. He stood up and stretched his arms, his incredibly large muscles flexing slightly as he tried to recall what had just happened. Dylan replied before he could truly get his bearings.

“We were talking about the team and suddenly got weirdly dizzy. Are you not drinking enough water? You’re the one always telling us to drink a bunch after every workout.” Dylan said with a slight teasing smirk. Ned grinned back at Dylan confidently. Dylan was a cheeky kid, he had been even back when Ned first met him. Ned was an incredibly athletic and popular teen, the classic jock, and had been best friends with Dylan’s older brother all through highschool. Because of that Dylan was almost like a little brother to him too, and getting the chance to teach Dylan was one of the reasons Ned was so eager to accept his new job as gym teacher and football coach. He playfully slapped Dylan on the arm and smirked confidently

“I’m alright kiddo. Just lost my concentration for a moment. You should worry about yourself lil bro. I’m gonna push you hard at practice today.” Ned said with a smirk. As the studly coach and quarterback strut out towards the field, Ned grinned widely. He had loved highschool, and now he got to work here and inspire a whole new generation of manly jock bros. It fucking ruled.