#i’ve been laughing at this all fucking day

[ellieputellas]

can you write roommate!alexia smut

caught in the act | a. putellas x reader

— You catch your roommate Alexia touching herself to your photos.

tags: roommate!Alexia, barçaB!reader, smut, masturbation, mentions of fingering, mention of age gap, a bit of degradation and dirty talk, not proofread 🔞 wc: 2k+

Alexia hated having you as a roommate.

It wasn't because of the fact that you had a bad habit of putting off washing the dishes until the next morning; she learned to deal with it and wash them for you whenever it did bother her. It also wasn't because you were always watching Netflix past midnight, at full volume while she tried to get enough sleep for early morning training the next day, fully knowing the walls between your rooms were paper thin. She's learned to fall asleep to the sound of Brooklyn 99 or whatever American TV show you were addicted to at the time. It wasn’t even the fact that she’d have to set her alarm at least 30 minutes ahead of the usual time she’d wake up just so she could force you out of bed so you could both attend your respective training sessions on time.

Instead, she hated how oblivious and clueless you were to how she felt about you.

Just now, there you were in the living room watching a dumb show on Netflix as you simultaneously swiped on Bumble. She hated seeing you looking at other girls, or even getting all dolled up for dates with other girls.

She knew your type. You liked tall, fellow athletes with great style. She wondered why you never noticed her when she fit your type so well. She rolled her eyes at the sight of you fiddling with the dating app and just wanted to return to her room but you already noticed her presence.

"Hey, Alexia." You said calmly. “Come over here.”

She sighed. "Yeah?"

"What do you think about her?" You said as you chewed on the chips you were loudly snacking on. (That was another thing Alexia let you get away with — snacking everywhere and anywhere leading to a mild ant problem.)

Alexia sat beside you on the couch and leaned in to look at your phone. It was someone from Levante’s B team. Alexia frowned. She had to admit. This girl was undeniably hot with her tattoos and fit body but she knew she looked just as good as this player. If not that, she sure as hell was a better player. That should have been some merit to her.

"She’s okay..." It was all she could say to you. She didn’t want to come off as the jealous roommate.

"Really? I kinda think she's smoking hot." You said with a confused look. “She’s the hottest player I’ve played against on the pitch.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and wanted to make a snide comment but let it slide.

“She asked me out after we switched shirts after our match, and I smelled her shirt and it smelled good as fuck.” You shared, making Alexia roll her eyes again. “Plus, she’s taller than I am and you know how that’s my type… but our texts have been stale and boring as fuck.”

Alexia shrugged and tried to focus on the show you were shamelessly ignoring already. “Then just don’t go out with her.”

You sighed. “Yeah… but there is this rookie footballer I matched with on Bumble, she plays for…” You continued to tell Alexia about the other girls you were talking to but she just didn’t give a fuck.

She didn’t wanna know anything about the other girls you were seeing while she’s been into you for so long.

"Anyway, can you help me pick photos from my weekend trip with Emma? She's so great at taking photos that I feel like I have to make two separate posts on instagram just to include all of my hot photos." You said before giving your phone to Alexia. "Just swipe through them and heart all the photos you like."

As soon as she grabbed your phone, she felt her body heat up. The first photo of you was you in front of the pool with your arms up, laughing gleefully. You were wearing the tiniest bikini with a bra top just big enough to cover your nipples and that incredibly skimpy underwear.

All Alexia could think about was pushing them to the side and fucking you hard with her fingers.

Alexia blinked. "You're so...." She couldn't find the words. "Naked?"

You laughed at the older woman’s reaction. "That's all you could say?"

Alexia ignored you, completely fixated by the photos of you. Alexia liked the first photo and proceeded to swipe. The second photo was you with your back turned, exposing your ass. Alexia could feel her mouth salivate as the dirtiest thoughts entered her mind. She kept scrolling, admiring every curve and crevice of your body. She loved the way your boobs spilled over your bra and the way your thong rode up your ass and accentuated your perfect hips. She loved your collarbones but she loved the thought of marking them with her mouth more.

She was practically liking every photo, unable to think objectively of what works on Instagram or whatever. She loved seeing you this exposed.

"You never dress like this usually." Alexia commented, still going back and forth with your photos. She was pretending to be analytical with your photos but her mind was just filled with obscenities.

You huffed. “You only see me in a kit or here at home when I dress like a slob. You don’t know what I dress like.”

Alexia furrowed her eyebrows. “I’ve seen you get dressed up for dates. You’re not usually so…” She shook her head. “Whatever. I never would have imagined you’d like wearing something so tiny.”

Alexia had to swallow as her mouth had been watering at the sight of your photos. You chuckled, oblivious to your roommate's reaction. "Well, you would know that I actually do love tiny swimwear if only you went swimming with us more.”

Alexia took a mental note to say yes to every opportunity to see you in a skimpy bikini. "Still, you never post stuff like this. You only ever post game photos or food photos. This is just out of character for you.” She added on. "You must be posting to impress someone, huh?"

You furrowed your eyebrows and rolled your eyes at her. "I feel like I’m just more grown now. Like, grown enough to post more skin.” You explained. “Besides, can’t I post for myself?”

Wish you would post for me, Alexia thought.

You looked over at Alexia who was still looking through your photos. "God, what's taking you so long? Mesmerized by my tits?"

"You're so cocky." It was all Alexia could say as she blushed. She felt like it was so wrong to be thirsting over her younger roommate like this but she couldn’t help it. You were exactly what she wanted.

You chuckled. "I told you. Emma took really good photos of me! I know I look hot in those."

You looked through the photos Alexia liked and realized the only photos of you she didn't like were the ones where you were covered up. You stifled a chuckle. "Okay, I guess I should post these immediately since it would be so selfish of me to deprive the world of these photos any longer."

"So arrogant." Alexia scoffed under her breath but unbeknownst to you, it turned her on. She loved it when you got all confident. It made her want to praise you and degrade you at the same time. "I'm going back to my room to review some things for some brand deal. Text me if you wanna order food or cook for dinner later."

You absentmindedly nodded as you typed up the perfect Instagram caption and chose the perfect thirst-trap song to go with the Instagram post.

Alexia headed back in her room and immediately pulled out her iPad, refreshing her Instagram feed incessantly. "C'mon, c'mon..." She muttered under her breath. "Just post already."

Finally, your post popped up.

Alexia felt like she couldn't breathe as she was finally able to get a better look at them through the bigger screen. She was finally free to zoom in to your perfectly shaped tits without worrying you'd see. She bit her lip.

It was almost a built-in instinct or bodily response to her the way she immediately positioned herself in front of her iPad; she wasted no time. She propped the device on her bed, blasted a song loud enough to mask her noise, swiftly took off her bottoms, and eventually, guided her hands to feel her own slick with her fingers. She was soaked already just from seeing you.

"Fuck," She muttered as she began rubbing herself, looking at the photo of you on her device. She wished she could have a gigantic TV screen just so she could see more of you at a bigger scale. She wanted to be overwhelmed by the sight of you — to be consumed by your beauty.

She rubbed her clit in circles as she kept her eyes glued on the screen. She cursed again. She thought about your tits. She wondered how they'd feel in her hands. She wanted to feel the softness against her rough and imposing hands; she wanted to know if that kind of touch would make you whimper. She wondered what colors your nipples were and how they'd look and feel... and taste. She so badly wanted to push her tongue against them.

Her legs shivered as she imagined taking your breast in her mouth, sucking on it mercilessly as you moaned under her.

In reality, Alexia was alone in the darkness of her room — her tanned skin illuminated by the sole source of light from her device that blasted music to mask her grunts and the obscene sounds of her wetness.

But in her imagination, Alexia was in your room on top of you, sucking on your breasts as she positioned her knee against your core. In her imagination, you loved to beg and whine. So there you were, underneath her, squirming as she sucked on your nipple and used her hands to play with the other one. She just could tell you were the sensitive type and the idea of you almost teary-eyed due to sheer pleasure caused by her made her even wetter.

She opened her eyes once again to catch a glimpse of you in that one photo where you had a serious face as you slightly bent over. She groaned as she caught sight once again of the flesh of your boobs pressing against the fabric of your bikini. "Fucking whore." It escaped her mouth in a grunt.

In her imagination, you were dressed in the same skimpy bikini. She had your bra cups pushed to the side to grant her easy access to lick all over your boobs, leaving the occasional mark whenever she desired.

"Please, Alexia." She could practically hear your voice say it. "Fuck me now."

Alexia plunged her fingers into her cunt, causing her to grunt loudly as she pumped in and out of herself as mercilessly as she would have with you.

She was fixated on the thought of her fingers thrusting so hard in and out of you that your tits jiggled with every thrust. Alexia somehow felt you were the type to moan loudly, grab your own tits, and beg to fuck her deeper.

"Alexia! Fuck me!"

"You want me so bad, huh? You fucking slut?" She groaned under her breath, almost breathless and winded from how rough she was fucking herself. "I'll fuck you so hard, you'd go stupid."

"Alexia, harder! Please!" The imaginary voice in her brain told her. It felt so realistic

"Yeah?" She called out your name, almost in the form of an animalistic grunt. "You fucking want it harder? You a fucking slut for me?"

She increased the speed of her thrusting, causing her to moan loudly in succession. "Fuck," She said, followed by calling out your name. "Tell me who you belong to."

She pumped in and out of herself, causing her to convulse in the building pressure inside her. Her eyes were shut close but the photo of you in your bikini was permanently burned inside her mind.

"I belong to you!" Her imagination called out.

"Say my name then." She groaned.

"Alexia," It sounded so soft and gentle.

"Louder." She growled as she imagined that it was your pussy she was roughly thrusting into. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she felt herself approaching orgasm. “Say it.”

"Alexia?!" It was practically an exclamation. It felt so real that your voice echoed in her ears.

As Alexia opened her eyes, she was met by the sight of you standing at the door of her room with a shocked face. Almost immediately after, Alexia moaned out loud as her orgasm arrived.

It took half a second for her to realize that she wasn't imagining it anymore. You were there, standing and watching her fuck herself while her obnoxiously larged iPad displayed a photo of you.

"Oh shit." She was in trouble.

a/n: not proofread. part 2 anyone? (also thank u for ur requests!)

[hoshifighting]

Hi. I love your writings. After I discovered Tumblr and your account... I don't know if I've had any day without coming back here... I had a request.

Bathroom sex with Minghao. It has been going on in my mind all day... Either bathtub or shower.

Even though he's not so masculine like others... I feel like he has an incredible core strength. So maybe putting the reader against the wall? Also if you're comfortable, could you add the reader as someone who's overweight and gets insecure from time to time.

It's like Minghao is comforting them through showing how beautiful they are through intimacy? Feels like something he would do.

Love your writing. Take care

bath sex with minghao

WARNINGS: bath sex, insecurities, praising, nipple sucking, penetrative sex, a tear dropping here or there...

a/n: thank you my love for making me part of your routine 😭🙏 I luv seeing you here, you are soooo sweet!! sorry for making u wait for so long 🥺 love you too, take care of yourself, and drink lots of water plsss

you’d been spiraling about it all damn day. the way minghao’s hands just felt—long fingers brushing your skin in passing, his touch so casual but also so intentional. it stuck to you like a tattoo, made your brain fuzzy. you didn’t even realize it, but the itch of your insecurities had been gnawing at you. maybe it was that girl in line earlier with the perfect ass and the confidence to match, or maybe it was just the mirror, the way it always reflected every single thing you couldn’t fix.

but minghao sees you, actually sees you, and it ruins you every time.

“you’ve been quiet all day,” he says from the bathroom doorway, his head tilted like he’s already piecing you apart, trying to read the shit you don’t say. “what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

you don’t answer right away—can’t, really—because he’s standing there in just his sweatpants, waistband hanging low, hair still damp from his post-workout shower. fucking unreal. and you hate it, the way you almost flinch at the word “pretty,” because yeah, he means it, but your brain won’t let you believe it.

“nothing,” you lie, but your voice cracks. his eyes narrow.

“bullshit.”

you huff, looking anywhere but him. “it’s not a big deal. just—ugh, i don’t know, okay? can we not do this tonight?”

but of course, minghao doesn’t take that. doesn’t let you slip into your head and drown in it. instead, he steps in, closing the door softly behind him, like he’s locking the world out. “you know you can’t bullshit me, baby. talk to me.”

and then he’s right in front of you, hands sliding over your arms, thumbs skimming your skin like he’s earthing you.

you mumble, “i just—i don’t feel good today, okay? like… about myself.”

his brows pull together, and you hate that he looks hurt on your behalf. “y/n,” he says, his voice softer now, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you wouldn’t get it,” you mutter, but the words catch when he lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“try me.”

and fuck, he’s patient, doesn’t rush you, just waits while his thumbs start rubbing little circles on your hips. finally, you crack. “i just… sometimes it’s hard, okay? i see all these girls who look perfect, and then there’s me. i don’t even know why you—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off, firmly. “don’t finsh it, don’t do that. don’t talk about yourself like that. do you know how fucking beautiful you are? like, actually?”

you laugh, but it’s bitter, because it’s not something you believe. “hao—”

he doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you, like he’s trying to rewrite whatever nonsense’s looping in your head. his lips move with yours, one hand sliding up your back, the other curling around your waist, and it’s so easy to melt into him, to forget everything else.

“i’m serious,” he murmurs against your mouth. “you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever seen. i love every. fucking. inch. of you.”

you want to argue, but then his hands are tugging at your shirt, and the air shifts. he pulls back just enough to look at you. “can i?”

your nod is shaky, he peels your shirt off like it’s a ritual, and when he sees the hesitance in your eyes, he leans in to kiss your shoulder, your collarbone, every patch of skin he uncovers.

he’s backing you up against the shower wall, his breath hot against your neck as he trails kisses down your jaw.

“hao,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out before he’s hooking your legs around his waist, his strength catching you like it’s nothing. “wait, i’m—”

“you’re fucking stunning,” he says, cutting you off, his lips crashing into yours again. “and i’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

the sound of the water hitting the tile was loud, drowning out every thought in your head except him. minghao was everywhere—hands firm on your thighs, lips pressed to your chest, tongue teasing your nipples until you were squirming. the spray soaked through what little clothing you both had left, making the fabric cling before he shoved his pants and boxers down with one hand, the wet heap hitting the floor with an exaggerated plop.

“didn’t know your pants were that heavy,” you giggled. he smirked before leaning in to kiss you again.

“focus,” he murmured. his hips pressed forward, and you gasped when his cock brushed against your pussy—hard and ready, like it always was when it came to you. it was one of those things that made you feel… better, somehow. like maybe he really did mean all the things he said about how he wanted you, how he needed you. not that you’d ever admit it—god, no, he’d never let you live it down.

you squirmed against him, suddenly hyperaware of how high he had you hoisted. “hao, i—”

“relax,” he interrupted. “i’ve got you.”

“but what if—what if i fall?”

his jaw tensed, his hands tightened on you. “you won’t fall, y/n. do you trust me?”

you nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. his eyes narrowed. “say it.”

your voice cracked. “i trust you.”

“good,” he said, but there was a shimmer of guilt in his expression when he saw the tears welling in your eyes. his voice softened immediately. “hey, baby—fuck, i’m sorry. didn’t mean to sound so harsh. you’re safe, okay? i promise.”

his lips brushed your cheek, catching the tear that spilled over, and you sniffled, clinging to him tighter. his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, “you’re safe with me. i swear.”

and then he rolled his hips, sliding into you, and whatever insecurity you’d been holding onto was gone—just gone. all you could feel was him, thick and deep, stretching you until your head spun. he groaned, his breath hitching as he bottomed out. “you feel so fucking good, baby. perfect. perfect.”

your fingers dug into his shoulders, a whimper slipping past your lips as he pulled back and thrust again, deep. the angle made you gasp, made your whole body shake in his arms. “hao,” you choked out, overwhelmed, and he just smiled against your neck.

“that’s it babe,” he murmured, picking up his pace, his hips slapping against yours. “see? i told you, baby. you don’t have to worry about anything. i’ve got you. always.”

his words melted into the steam around you, and soon you weren’t sure if it was water or sweat trailing down your body. he fucked you, his grip on you steady and unrelenting, making it impossible to think about anything but the way he filled you, the way he made you feel like you were his.

“shit—fuck, hao, i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he cut in, his voice thick and breathless, but that smug grin never wavered. “let go for me, baby. you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum. let me see you.”

and when you did—when your body clenched around him and your moan echoed in the steam-filled space—he followed right after, his hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as he could go. his head fell to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as he held you close, neither of you caring about the water still raining down around you.

“see?” he said after a moment, pulling back enough to look at you. his smile was soft now, tender. “told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXX)

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some shopping for our lovebirds that turns into Andrew fighting for his life…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3322

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Here are my black clothes

I think now it is better to love no one than to love you. Here are my black clothes, the tired nightgowns and robes fraying in many places. Why should they hand useless as though I were going naked? You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects. You will want to touch them with your mouth, run your fingers through the thin tender underthings and I will not need them in my new life.

Louise Glück, The First Five Book of Poems

The tailor was posh but undoubtedly talented. Then again, it was a tailor, posh was to be expected.

It was the old type of tailor, the one you saw in movies, the type that hid a secret passage to the secret service. Wooden walls covered with wooden shelves and clothes, wooden tiles on the floor, large corduroy armchairs. You walked in feeling like you didn’t belong there, like you should never have come in the first place.

Frank spotted you instantly when you walked in. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, there were times when you missed him. There were times when you didn’t think of him at all… what a strange feeling… he was always in your thoughts for years…

You wished Andrew was there with you. You wondered if his classes were going well this morning, you wanted to make him a coffee and chat instead of working…

“Y/N!” Frank beamed at you, crossing the room to give you a hug. “I’ve missed you! We’ve spent too long apart!”

“Missed you too. You look well! Are you ready to choose your suit?”

“I’m so nervous,” he admitted with an uncomfortable laugh.

“It’ll be just fine.”

You said hello to Frank’s friends and family members gathered in the shop. Only a few people, including the three best men.

The tailor came in a few minutes later, started taking care of his clients. You remained quiet while the group was splitting its attention between Frank’s suit and his best men’ clothes.

The plan was simple. You had to give him terrible advice. You had to ruin the suit, make him look ridiculous. Something that Sam would hate.

That was the only way to weaken the wedding with today’s activity.

You waited patiently, watched Frank try suits on. Every piece of garment shattered your heart.

You should have been the one discovering the suit on your wedding day. You should have been the one he talked about now, asking if you would like that colour on him, hoping you would find him handsome.

He was. He was handsome. So fucking much. You wanted to shout, to claw your eyes out of their sockets with the pain of it. He was so handsome, and you should have never been here. Instead of seeing him try on all these suits, you should have been the bride hiding her dress from him. But you weren’t. You were just the friend he was turning his attention to now, asking for an advice.

And you couldn’t do it. Couldn’t ruin this for him. You were too kind-hearted for that, or perhaps, you were simply too much in pain.

You struggled to put a smile on your face.

“I think navy blue is better than green on you.”

“You think?” he asked, looking at the two shades.

“It matches your eyes better. Makes them pop.”

He smiled, bright and excited.

Had he ever smiled like this thinking of your wedding? Of marrying you?

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re always right with those things.”

“Because I pay attention.”

Your answer held more meaning than it seemed, but he didn’t notice. He never did. Not when it was you.

And you wanted revenge now. You wanted him to regret you. You wanted him to see that you were enough, that you were always enough, that Sam wasn’t better than you… even if you didn’t really believe it. Frank had chosen Sam. Andrew had been in love with her, and now that he was starting to move on, it was to be with a woman who wasn’t you.

You excused yourself, looked for the bathroom. The moment you turned the lock on your door, the tears were let free.

You looked so sad when you came back.

It was almost noon when you stepped in the office, Andrew had been waiting for you to eat his lunch. He didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and neither did you. He was relieved about it, you clearly needed some help.

“How did it go?” he asked as you closed the door behind you.

You didn’t answer at first, instead you took the time to take off your coat, let yourself fall in your office chair and throw your head back towards the ceiling. You let out a dramatic moan, Andrew chuckled at the sound.

“That bad, huh? Did you make him choose something terrible to wear?”

You didn’t answer.

“Let me guess… you saw him in there, it broke your heart, but you didn’t lie and helped him look stunning for his wedding day.”

“How do you know? That’s exactly what happened.”

“I know you. You’re too kind to do something so mean and selfish. Hiding a few bottles of champagne is one thing, making your ex look like a fool on the most important day of his life is another.”

“I’m so pathetic. I feel so… pathetic…”

“You’re not. You’re just heartbroken.”

“Same bloody thing.”

“What can I do?”

You looked at him then, tears in your eyes and looking so sad… so damn sad…

But then you looked angry instead, wrath burning through your gaze and Andrew shuddered at the sight.

You looked gorgeous like this, despite your eyes reddened with tears. Fierce was a good look on you, it had always been…

“I’m going to make him regret me so fucking much he’ll beg to get me back.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your determination.

“And how do we do that?”

“By making me look so fucking good he’ll have nightmares about leaving me.”

Andrew’s heart skipped a beat. His words came out in a whisper you didn’t hear.

“You’re always gorgeous, Y/N…”

“We’re going to this party they’re throwing two weeks before the wedding. So… in…”

“Two weeks.”

“Yeah… in two weeks. God, I can’t believe it’s the end of April already. Exams will be back in no time.”

“Don’t mention that…” Andrew winced. “Besides, we’ll have to go through the conference first…”

“Did you have an answer for that by the way?”

Andrew smiled.

“Main speaker on the second day. Forty-minutes presentation.”

“That’s awesome, Andy! Congrats!”

“I’m going to hate every second of it.”

“You’ll be brilliant.”

“We’ll need to rehearse your presentation too.”

“Yes, thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it. We’re a team.”

You exchanged a tender smile, one that reached gratefulness for more than professional support.

“Anyway, I’m going to go shopping after work,” you declared. “I’ll buy the most gorgeous dress for that party. And Frank will be at my fucking feet.”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Alright, good plan.”

“Actually… can I be insufferable and ask for your help?”

“Pardon me? My help? I don’t know anything about dresses…”

“You’re a man. You know what men like. Actually, you know what? We could go now. Be back before two and work this afternoon.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Okay…”

Andrew gathered his things in a hurry, let you babble away while you exited the office. He didn’t mention the way your voice was shaking from time to time, how your eyes still glistened with withheld tears.

He didn’t mention any of it. He merely drove you to the shop you liked.

Andrew didn’t know what to do while you browsed through expensive dresses, selected a few, asked for his opinion. He didn’t really have any. He had no idea what he was supposed to do to make you smile again, to make you happy, to make you feel as beautiful as you truly were…

You walked in a fitting room with five different dresses to try on. There weren’t many people in the shop at this hour, only an old woman with her grand-daughter were looking for a dress for the young woman. The elder lady started chatting casually with Andrew while they both waited in front of the cabins.

“Your girlfriend is looking for a dress for a special occasion?” she asked, and Andrew fiercely blushed.

“Oh… no, she’s not… we’re not… She’s not my girlfriend.”

She gave him a look, one that annoyed him a lot.

“Right… I see…”

Andrew ignored her, her grand-daughter showing her a dress the perfect excuse not to answer.

And then he heard you calling his name in a quiet voice…

His heart didn’t just skip a few beats, it stopped altogether. Butterflies didn’t cut it, these were fireworks in his stomach.

You were standing there in an emerald dress that fell across your calves, a low cut on your cleavage that made his wildest fantasies about you seem mild.

“What do you think? I like this one.”

You turned around to show him the back, or rather, the absence of clothing on the backless dress.

Andrew couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think…

You were so… so…

“How do I look?”

You were so… so…

“…Breathtaking.”

You blinked up at him. And he tried to hide his reaction, but he couldn’t. He must have looked stunned, a deer in headlights, and he couldn’t help it. You were so…

“…Perfect.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, a shy smile forming on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted to touch the skin of your back the dress revealed. He wanted to run his fingers along your cleavage. He wanted to tear that gorgeous dress off you…

He cleared his throat, averted his eyes so he would stop staring at you.

“Yeah… that’s… a good one.”

“I have another I like, hang on.”

He nodded, unable to look at you. He could feel warmth spreading through his body, but he would never survive the humiliation of getting a boner in the middle of a shop because you were trying dresses on…

“Not your girlfriend, huh?”

Andrew turned to the stranger, the old woman giving him a knowing smile.

“You’d better make her your girlfriend, before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, of course not.”

She heaved a sigh, looking at the closed curtain of the fitting room where her grand-daughter had disappeared.

“My husband looked at me like that, you know? The way you look at her. And I can only hope my grand-child will find someone who will look at her like that, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like she is the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

She stared right into his eyes.

“The way you must be looked at when you are loved.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fiercely blushing.

Christ, he was a desperate case. And if a stranger could notice his feelings for you, surely everyone had… what would you say if you noticed? Would you push him away? Would you break his heart?

You walked out of your cabin again, wearing a black dress this time. And Andrew tried to hide it better this time, but you looked divine. It fitted your curves perfectly, it made your body look like sin…

“What about this one?” you asked, turning around, and Andrew hated himself for being unable to stop himself from staring at your arse.

“Yeah… that’s a good one too,” he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Which one do you prefer?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Come on! I like both. I don’t know which one to pick. What’s your favourite?”

He struggled to control his breathing, to slow down his heart.

“I… erm… I really liked the green one.”

“The green one?”

“Yeah, it… you’re gorgeous in this dress too though.”

He heard you clearing your throat too.

“Right… the green dress it is, then.”

“Yeah… okay… grand… erm, like… good…”

“Thanks, Andy.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Christ, please, don’t mention it…

“I’ll get changed real quick.”

He hummed as he nodded, still unable to look at you.

By his side, the elderly lady chuckled, and Andrew wanted to dissolve into nothing, a puddle on the ground, to simply be atomised into thin air…

You bought the dress, Andrew drove you back to Trinity in relative silence. He was too busy picturing you in these dresses again, too busy trying not to picture you in these dresses again.

When you walked back to your office though, it was obvious that you were still sad. That search for a semblance of power over a situation you couldn’t control was gone again. He let out a long exhale through his nose as he looked at you sitting behind your desk. He crossed the room, avoiding the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and gave you a soft smile.

“You’re alright, Y/N?”

You shook your head.

“I’m sorry… I just… I can’t get over it.”

“It’s okay. You’re upset, that’s all.”

“Seeing him like this… wearing these suits… he should have been wearing them for me…”

“I know. I know, Y/N.”

“I want my life back.”

“But you have one. You have one now. You don’t need him in it.”

“I feel like I need him. I feel like I… like I just messed everything up.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t mess anything up. None of this is your fault.”

“If he chose her, then I must be lacking something…”

“You’re not. Trust me, you’re not lacking anything. It’s his loss if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden harshness of his tone.

“You don’t need him, Y/N… you… you could have better than him. You… he’s not… He’s not even paying attention to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really care. I think he’s a little too selfish for that.”

He shook his head.

“I see you with him, you know? You’re not yourself. You’re not… babbling away about cinema, or literature, or art or this recipe you’ve just tried or… it’s like you just shut down. And you listen, and then you make a tiny summary of all the things you wanted to say… but you’re so fucking smart. You’re so fucking interesting. You’re… you shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t care about what you have to say. And he fucking broke your heart! Why do you still want him? Why…?”

Why do you still want him, instead of me?

But he didn’t say it. He stopped, and closed his fists tightly.

Andrew was growing annoyed, angry even. And of course you noticed, he reckoned he was doing a pretty bad job at hiding his true feelings.

“Y/N… Frank… I’m not saying he’s a bad person, but…”

“But?”

“But he doesn’t deserve you.”

You raised an eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.

“Really? Why not? It’s not like I’m anything special, anyway.”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Are you listening to yourself?!” he asked with something aghast in his voice, a genuine incomprehension that surprised you. “You’re… you’re amazing. You deserve so much better than him! You deserve to be treated with respect, to have someone who actually pays attention to you, who cares about you, who listens to you when you’re talking about your passions, who’s not going to disregard what you’re saying simply because they disagree…”

But you interrupted him with a scoff.

“Perfection doesn’t exist, Andy. I’ve learned as much in life. I don’t have a choice but to settle for less than that.”

“There’s a difference between accepting someone’s faults and flaws and setting the bar so low it’s actually buried underground…”

“You’re one to talk! You’re still in love with Samantha despite how she hurt you, despite the fact that she doesn’t give two shites about your poetry or your work, about the fact that she won’t make a single fucking effort for you…”

“Who says I’m still in love with her?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, and you were genuinely taken aback this time, Andrew could tell.

“You’re not?” you asked, your tone quieter, Andrew guessed that it was a side-effect of your surprise.

“No, I’m not. I’ve learnt my lesson. I want to move on. I… I’m moving on.”

“Wow… that’s… good… That’s really grand, Andy. Is it… because of that woman you mentioned?”

Andrew’s heart sped up, he could feel himself panicking, he closed and opened his fists multiple times in an attempt to slow down his breathing.

“I… I mean… kind of…”

“Kind of?”

“I…”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

“I want to be with her. I… I just… I haven’t told her yet.”

“Why not? You should ask her on a date.”

But he shook his head.

“She won’t say yes. I know her, she won’t go on a date with me, not for now. Besides… It’s too soon… for me too, I mean. I need to put Sam behind me for good, before I can try to be with her.”

You stared at him with a blank expression… or rather, not blank. The opposite. Like you felt something but tried to show the opposite reaction. The result was unreadable to him.

“I’m glad you’re moving on.”

But your tone was flat, and you didn’t seem happy at all.

“Thanks,” Andrew answered anyway.

You heaved a tired sigh.

“Please, don’t judge me with Frank. I… you don’t understand.”

Andrew sighed too, let the air out through gritted teeth.

“No, you’re right. I don’t understand. I mean… I do. I do understand the process of grieving for a life that wasn’t fully yours to begin with, but you thought would belong to you. But that’s the thing, Y/N. You need to start grieving now. You can’t remain stuck there forever. You… You deserve to be happy. You deserve better than that. Don’t do that to yourself. Especially not for someone like him. We deserve better than this, Y/N.”

You stared at him now, tears in your eyes, a sight he wished he could banish forever. He would take all of your pain away if he could, he would suffer it in your stead.

“It’s not that easy, Andy,” you shook your head, taking a step back.

“It could be. It could be, Y/N…”

“I’ve loved him for so long…”

Andrew slowly nodded.

“You could love again, with a little bit of time. He… he doesn’t care about you, Y/N. He doesn’t… listen when you talk. He acts like he does, but he doesn’t. He’s not interested in what makes you happy…”

“Neither is Sam with you.”

“I know. I know, and I don’t want that anymore.”

“But I want Frank.”

Your voice was shaking, it didn’t sound either earnest nor convincing. Still, hearing the words broke Andrew’s heart.

After everything… how could you still want Frank… why couldn’t you want him instead?

Could you… could you ever want him?

Andrew closed his fists tightly, until he could feel the sharp pain of his nails digging crescent marks into his palm. Perhaps you would never want him. Maybe it wasn’t just about Frank, maybe it was about him… maybe he was simply… not your type, not attractive to you, not good enough.

He let out a long, painful exhale through his nose.

“Would that make you happy?” he genuinely asked, voice quiet, deeper than usual, but softer than before as well. “Is that what will make you happy?”

You stared at him for a moment, then clenched your jaw. When you answered, he couldn’t read in your eyes whether or not you were telling the truth. Maybe you were lying… against all odds, he hoped you were lying.

“Yes.”

One word, breathed out, it was enough to break his heart.

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“Alright, we’ll do it then. We’ll go to that stupid party. We’ll make him jealous. We’ll make him see what he’s losing by choosing Sam over you. If it’s what it takes for you to be happy… As long as it makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

He stared at you as you walked back to your desk, sat before your computer, looked at the screen.

He turned around, blinking tears away, stood in front of the window behind his desk.

As long as it would make you happy…

[halfwayhearted]

PLEASE pau cubrsi more imagines🙏🙏🙏🙏

This Strange Effect — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s your favorite way to pass the time, just lying with your boyfriend, but it’s not always calming.

Word Count: 345+

Disclaimer/s — Suuuuper short, and fluff!

A/N: I’m sick… hi… hey… what the fuck.

There was nothing you loved more than wasting the day away doing nothing but being with your boyfriend after days of your schedules not lining up. Now, here you guys were, in your bed with his head on your chest while the two of you watched semi-entertaining videos on your computer.

Once it ends, he lifts his head, “Do I let it go to the next or do you want to watch a different one?”

“Your choice,” you answered, letting out a small laugh when he narrows his eyes. “Fine! Okay, we can watch something else. You choose though, because I chose the one we just watched. And no playthroughs! I’m getting tired of those ones.”

“I’ve only ever played one! You’re such a baby.”

Ruffling a hand in his hair, he groans and lays back down, “It lasted the entirety of our sleepover, Pau. We did nothing but watch it!”

“Okay! Okay… fine, how about a horror movie?”

“Horror movie—oh, my God. I, like, can’t feel my arm. Please, can you get off? Just for a second!”

With a laugh, Pau lifts his upper body and moves to lay on a pillow instead of, well, on you. Now you could’ve easily frowned and been upset (not being serious, of course). But finally being able to move your arm after it being limp felt amazing.

“How’s your arm feeling? Is it feeling any better?”

“It does, yeah. I’m pretty sure it would’ve fallen off. Weren’t you uncomfortable or something?”

He shook his head, “I was actually comfortable.”

“I was actually comfortable,” you mocked with a frown. “You’re not lying on my arm anymore.”

Pau can’t help but grin at that. His grin only widens after you finally regain movement in your arm. The two of you find a movie to watch and settle in comfortably. And guess where he ends up laying? Right back on your arm, of course.

But with the sweet, occasional kisses he’d place on your lips, you couldn’t help but think that dealing with a limp arm wouldn’t be so bad at all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[miaoua3]

Hello! Can you write an sfw/nsfw headcannon version for soonyoung pls? Love your writing!🫰

hii! ofc i can, it would be my pleasure, i hope you enjoy this!

Husband! Hoshi Headcanons

•(sfw! hcs):

we all already know that he’s a cuddle bug, but the extent that his need to be touching you goes to is beyond what any of us could imagine. he’s constantly up in your space, touching you in any way possible. if you are doing chores around the house, instead of helping you by doing something, he will just hang onto your shirt and follow you around, talking animatedly. if you are sitting down, you better expect for his head to be resting on your shoulder

whenever he needs something, he just calls for you (aka screams “baaaabee!”through the house until you hear him and come to him lmao), doesn’t matter that most of the times the thing that he’s looking for is right in front of him, he’s a bit blind sometimes (or so he tells, in reality he does it because he finds your annoyed little pout so adorable)

instead of kissing, he loves to often rub your noses together as a sign of affection, something about just feels so silly and cute and domestic to him he can rarely resist the urge to do it, plus you always smile so brightly whenever he does it so its a win-win situation

he loves that with you he can be as childish and silly as he wants, that you will always join him in his silly missions to make everyone laugh, that you will always laugh along with him no matter how ridiculous and stupid his jokes are. he loves that you are his youth quite literally, and that with you along his side, he can climb on top of the world

three words: matching tiger pyjamas. you didn’t have much of a choice, really, he just bought them for you two one day, and as you tried to let him down gently, his big brown puppy eyes looked at you pleadingly, ready to say “please?” as you were about to refuse him, and suddenly you just sighed in defeat. so guess which pyjamas you two wear the majority of the month, except for the few says it takes to wash and dry them?

compliments you all the time-both when he intends to and when he isn’t even aware that what he said is considered a compliment. for example, if you are getting ready, doing your makeup or taking it off, he will just come behind you, hug you and while smiling say “you are so very pretty, the prettiest in this whole wide world. i must’ve saved korea as a nation in my past life to get the honour of having you in this life.”, or for the times when he is unaware of it-you were just looking at some flowers as you were walking through a botanic garden when he said “i don’t know much about flowers, but whenever i see this flower (points to a, say, hibiscus), it reminds me of you, because you both are so pretty and look so gentle.” bro isn’t even trying yet he got you crying

loves loves LOVES surprising you with at-home picnics, just as you walk through the door of your house, he’s running towards you, taking your hand so he can lead you to the living room where the stuff is all set up-the white bedsheet handing from two chairs, under the sheet fairy lights wrapped around the chairs, a blanket on the floor with lots and lots of food spread on it. he loves how it always makes you smile and how easy it is to make you happy

•(nsfw! hcs):

has stamina of a BEAST, like it isn’t enough that he seemingly gets boners all the time, the sight of your collarbones is enough to make him hug your from behind, slowly grinding his hips against your ass while he mumbles “please babe, lemme make you feel good hm? it’s been so long since i’ve fucked you, let me make you cum on my dick” (btw it hasn’t even been that long, you two had sex two days prior but ok lmao). the moment he sees you close your eyes, he knows he’s won. cue at least 3 hours of him pounding into you, his skin slapping against yours, both your skins burning from the force they meet. at some point you feel so exhausted that you just lay there, face in the pillow, while he holds your hips in the air as he fucks you from behind

is so enthusiastic about eating you out that he overstimulates you, not only are his fingers fast inside of your pussy, but he’s sucking on your clit so hard, it makes tears fall from your eyes very easily. he just wants you to feel so good (but also to squirt all over his face) that he can spend hours just lapping at your juices, mumbling “c’mom pretty girl, just one more, make a mess on my face, that’s what it’s for, it’s for you to sit on it and make yourself cum on it” bsjqbsjqkq

speaking of-dirty talk with him goes CRAAAZY, not even because he wants it to, he just says whatever it’s on his mind, his thoughts a mess thrown up the moment they appear in his mind. he’s a moaning mess, sucking hickeys into your skin, kissing you sloppily, all while he’s repeating “pussy so good, fuck, want to stay here forever. want to cum inside of you all the time, to make you full with my cum-shit, ahh, so tight, im gonna-“ cue more moaning and whining as he nears his end

on the same note- breeding kink. we all know that one clip where he said he wants a whole football team (thank you scoups for the metaphor lmao). and even now, he often talks about getting married and having kids, so i think the moment he put that ring on you, he got down to BUSINESS. i’m talking he soaks your pussy AND your sheets with hair cum, if he could, he would make you wear a plug so none of it spills out and that it’s 100% sure that you end up pregnant from it. the thoughts of your heavy, full and lactating breasts, your round belly, and a little girl that has a smile just like yours, haunt his dreams on the daily

he is unintentionally so rough, like not only does he manhandle you into positions that he needs you in, if you are too far gone to be listening to him, he will just grab you by your neck to get your attention, or pull on your hair so you can watch him fuck you in the mirror, eyes trained on your gaping mouth and bouncing tits. the thing is- he doesn’t do it out of the need to be dominant, it’s just that it’s a part of his fantasy, of exactly what he imagined for that night to be, so if you aren’t following it, he will take the matter into his own hands (quite literally).

he isn’t really sure why, but he loves it when you end up crying from the overstimulation and pleasure, and when you mascara runs down your cheeks. you just look so ruined, and it makes him feel so good and smug that he’s the only one that has the honour of seeing you sobbing for him to both stop and to cum inside of you, the only one who gets to squish your mascara stained cheeks together and make you focus on him, the only one that makes your legs tremble and shake every day. the only one that gets to fuck a baby into you. the only one you crave.

(act surprised for this one) he is low-key into collars. he isn’t all that sure about leashes, but a pretty little collar wrapped around your pretty neck? and if it has a heart shaped buckle? he is a goner. he won’t ever recover from the amount of fantasy material the sight gives him, how primal it makes him feel. plus the look you make whenever he puts two fingers through that heart shaped buckle and pulls you towards him by it? it will literally make him kneel in front of a god and thank him for that sight (not really something he should discuss with a god, yknow, given that it’s about your sex life and all that but eh, whatever lol)

[jam3sacaster]

My dirtiest thoughts I present to thee my dearest:

Declan in full munch mode making direct eye contact whilst licking his moustache and diving back in!

Look at me no longer anonymous and a complete pig! I can only apologise…

💕💕💕

GORGEOUS idea my darling 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 declan o’hara is the biggest, most generous munch, pass it on x

“How does it feel, my girl?”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by one’s own heart 🩷 / Declan shows you how much he appreciates you…

18+ FANFIC / SMUT from the offset & gorgeously angsty. Shortish I suppose? Reader character aged at 21. As always, request what you wanna see in my ask box 💋

Lately, life had been hard. Work was growing increasingly tense and arduous. Declan had been putting so much labour into Venturer that he had barely had time to look at you, let alone touch you. However, you were sat at your dinner table, amethyst pleated skirt falling softly at your knees, and sipping from a mug of sweet hot chocolate, laden with marshmallows. “Evenin’, babe.” The Irishman huffed, making his way into the dining room and throwing his briefcase by his feet. “Hello.” You sulk, briefly checking the time on your wrist watch. 7pm — an early finish by Declan’s standards.

“Please don’t. I’m not in the fuckin’ mood tonight.” He groans, massaging his brutish fingers into his eyes and pushing out an exasperated sigh. “You’re not in the mood? I’ve barely seen you this week, I’m starting to think you and Rupert have some secret affair going on.” You roar, slamming both hands against the darkened oak of your dining table. Declan laughed sardonically and pointed a finger at you before he spoke. “Who do you t’ink is payin’ the bills for this place? Because it’s not you, sittin’ around drinkin’ fuckin’ hot chocolate all day.” And the words sound bitter and vulgar leaving his mouth — an amalgamation of sarcasm and utter poison.

Shaking your head in disbelief and not dignifying him with a response, you keep azure eyes affixed on him as he walks towards you, lowering himself to his knees. “What are you doing?” You ask, as he lifts your pleated skirt away from your knees and balls it up at your hips. “No pants?” He questions with a smirk, and you begin to shuffle your pelvis forward, you allow him access to your wet spot. “I’m sorry for not bein’ around. I wanna show ya’ how much ya’ mean to me.” And with that, his pointed tongue was lapping at your clit, first drawing tender circles across your pink bud and paying close attention to your breathless moans.

When he was sufficiently pleased that you were worked up enough, he delved his tongue deeper, working fervently at your swollen clit and making you whimper in ecstasy. Declan kept his chocolate orbs fixed on yours — the unwavering eye contact providing you with additional pleasure. He pulled away from your cunt momentarily and ran his fatigued tongue across his mahogany ‘tash, savouring every sweet droplet of your wetness from the bristles. The provocative sight made your thighs tense, clit pulsating in lust for the Irishman. “How does it feel, my girl?” He asked in a guttural, coarse tone. “So fucking good.” You pant, and he wastes no time in diving back in, taking your clit between his lips and sucking softly, making you sob with sensitivity and keep a hand firmly clasped to the back of his head.

The feral way in which he flicked at your cunt drove you ever closer to orgasm, rhythmic lashings of his hot tongue driving untamed bucking from your hips. “Fuck, Declan, I’m gonna cum.” You spit out, clenching fistfuls of his brunette hair. Your lustful moans accelerated, and you came into your lover’s mouth, deafening moans accompanying it. Declan slowly pulled away, a string of wetness attaching itself to his moustache that he promptly cleaned up with the tip of his tongue. “I love the taste of your cum.” He muttered in a hushed tone, and you feverishly grin back, still pulsating from your orgasm.

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 14

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and bradley go on your seventh date, this one at a fair, and both end up winning more than once.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Bradley felt like he was on cloud nine. 

It took him another hour to get out of bed when you let him fuck you bare yesterday morning. He still couldn’t believe he had managed to save his relationship with you, and now it seemed like it was stronger than ever. 

Thank fuck for that, because as of right now, you were the only good thing he had in his life, and he didn’t know what he would’ve done if he had lost you for good. 

Since going on impulsive dates was kinda yours and his thing, Bradley remembered this pop up fair that always came to town this time of year, and it only runs for two weeks. This weekend would be the last chance to go, and he knew for a fact that you’d have fun there, so he decided to ask you if you wanted to go with him. 

His arm was draped around your shoulders as he walked you to your second class of the day. “I wanna do something this weekend,” he started off casually, not wanting to sound like he had been thinking of this idea since last night when you fell asleep in his arms. 

You looked up at him with your pretty smile and a raise of your brow. “Another date? What is this, like, our sixth one?”

“Seventh,” he corrected and smirked at the quiet laugh he pulled from you. “And going on random dates is our thing, so don’t act so surprised.”

You laughed again and shook your head, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek as you walked with him. “I love going on dates with you,” you murmured, kissing him again before pulling away. “So what are you thinking about for this weekend?”

“How about something new?” he suggested, giving you a side glance as he guided you along the campus. Bradley knew your schedule pretty fucking well now, so he knew where your classes were, when they started and when they ended, which was a good thing, since he liked walking you to them. “There’s a fair that’s happening in town. I’ve heard that it’s pretty fun and the tickets aren’t super fucking expensive either.”

Your eyes lit up and you stopped walking, making him stop as well. “A fair?” you echoed, jumping slightly when he nodded. “I love fairs! Oh, they’re so fun, I’ve never been to one that wasn’t fun.”

Bradley lifted a brow, his lips curving upwards as he looked down at your excited expression. “Yeah? You’ve been to a lot?”

You shrugged, giving him a teasing smile. “A few here and there,” you answered, “This is so fun. When are we going?”

“So you want to go then? It’s not even a question anymore?” he teased, laughing at your eye roll. 

“Of course it’s not a question,” you replied, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. “Fairs are so romantic, Bradley. Especially when you’re with the right person.”

Bradley lifted a brow again, following after you as you started to pull him along the sidewalk. “You better be talking about me, babes,”

The look over your shoulder you gave him told him all he needed to know, but your words helped too. “Of course I’m talking about you, flyboy,” you laughed, turning to face him once you were outside the doors of the creative arts building. “Everything feels right with you.”

For some reason, that had Bradley blushing like a fucking teenager. That was probably one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to him, and it just made him adore you even more. So he didn’t respond with words, instead he just leaned down and kissed you, his hand coming up to hold your jaw. “Have a good class,” he murmured in between soft kisses before he finally stepped away from you. “Think of me.”

The smile you gave him brought that blush back to his face. “I always am,”

-

Bradley wanted to take you to the fair, and you weren’t sure he was even aware of just how perfect of a date that sounded to you.

And while you were a bit lost on just how many dates you’ve gone on with him up until this point, Bradley knew the exact number, and you were definitely sure he wasn’t aware of how attractive that is. 

Then there was the whole no condom thing, and that had your smile growing. Sure, it was kind of an irresponsible decision, but you really needed to be as close as humanly possible with Bradley yesterday, especially since you had discovered that the whole Briana thing was just a massive misunderstanding. You were so relieved that you had been wrong about him being like every other guy, and he had proved it to you so sweetly, you needed to feel him all over you. 

And it felt fucking amazing, and you’re on the pill, so was it really a bad decision? It sure didn’t feel like one. 

You were all giddy when you went into your class, your happy smile definitely not directed at Clarke personally, but he gave you one back as if it was, which was just fine by you. After having such a terrible start to the week, you would gladly smile at everyone you saw since things had only gotten a lot better since Monday morning.

You sat down in your usual seat, smiling at the girl already sitting in the one beside yours. She was pretty, had long blonde hair and hazel eyes, and for some reason, you had never shared more than a few conversations with her. She seemed nice enough, and you were seriously lacking in the friend department at the moment, so maybe you’d try to talk to her more often. 

Really, anyone was better than Sam at this point. 

So when she smiled at you and held up the bag of plain chips she was snacking on before the class started, you grinned back and took one. 

When the class was over, you packed up your things and got Delia’s, your table partner, number saved as a contact on your phone. You ended up talking to her quite a bit during class, and you were right, she is really nice and seems like a great friend to have. And you were in no position to turn down what could be a pretty awesome friendship. 

She offered to hang out for a bit after class, and you agreed, so you followed after her when she began walking towards the door. You had a few hours to kill before you had to go to your yoga class, and usually you would be spending it with Bradley, but hanging out with Delia would give you more time to get to know her better, and you could already tell that you and her have a lot in common. 

Before you could leave, Clarke called out to you, making you pause. “Can you stay for a second?” he asked, and you furrowed your brows, giving Delia an apologetic look and a gesture that told her that you’d meet her out in the hall in a minute. 

“Sure,” you answer, walking back into the room. You weren’t sure why he wanted to talk to you; you hadn’t handed in any assignments this week since he hadn’t given out any, and you made sure to always pay attention (or at least pretend to if your mind was elsewhere - like on your boyfriend) in class, so you knew you weren’t in trouble or anything. 

Clarke smiled at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head. “How are you doing?” he asked, his brows coming together in what looked like mock concern, but then again, you didn’t know him well enough to assume that. 

“I’m…fine,” you replied, giving him a confused smile back as you shifted on your feet. That was it? That’s all he wanted? To know how you were doing?

“You sure?” he pressed, crossing his arms as he looked down at the papers that were scattered on the surface of his desk. “In Tuesday’s class you seemed off. Quieter…less talkative. I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

Oh. Well that was kinda fucking embarrassing. Monday and Tuesday were really bad days for you since you weren’t sure where you stood with Bradley at the time, but you had thought you hid it pretty well. Clearly not. And now your teacher was asking about you as if you were back in high school. “Oh,” you laughed, either out of nerves of pure embarrassment, or both. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I was just…I had a really bad start to the week. I’m totally fine now.”

You thought he’d laugh it off too and leave it at that, but then he leaned forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his thighs spread a bit and making his slacks look two sizes too small. 

Okay, this was getting weird now, and you were definitely beginning to feel uncomfortable. While you appreciated his concern, you had already told him three times now that you were fine, but he was still pushing it. And you didn’t think you had bonded with him enough for him to feel the need to be this persistent. You wanted to just nod at him and quickly turn and leave, the need to just get out of this classroom the only thing on your mind right now.

But he continued before you could make your escape. “Because I’m here for you if you’re not,” he said, giving you another smile that was more of a sly smirk compared to the other ones. “You can always come to me if something’s bothering you or anything like that.”

Not that he was very high up on the list of the people you’d go to if something was bothering you, but now he wasn’t even in the vicinity of said list. You were so on edge and it happened so quickly, you physically couldn’t relax your tense shoulders as you nodded slowly and gripped the strap of your bag. “Right,” you mumbled, forcing out a tight smile and a nod as you stepped away from his desk. “That’s…nice, Clarke…I appreciate that.”

You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t exactly go off on your teacher because he hadn’t done anything wrong except express his concern about you. But still, why you felt so fucking awkward and…gross was beyond you. 

“No problem,” he said, and the look he gave you had you holding back a cringe as you turned and headed for the door without saying goodbye.

In the hall, Delia was waiting for you with a kind yet confused smile. “What did he want?” 

You debated on whether or not to tell her, but didn’t know if you were making a big deal out of nothing at all. Really, all Clarke did was voice his concern, there was nothing wrong with that, and you were already feeling better now that you were out of that classroom. 

So you decided to brush it off for now, and you also decided to not tell Bradley since you were sure he’d make a big deal out of it too, and the last thing you needed right now was more drama. 

-

Bradley hadn’t seen you since he walked you to class yesterday.

You texted him and said that you were going to hang out with a girl from your class before you had to go to yoga, so he didn’t get the chance to see you for the rest of the day. 

It was Friday evening now, and he was waiting in the Jeep as you got ready for your fair date. Bradley still couldn’t believe how much you had changed him and his life in so little time. He had never considered himself to be one of those boyfriends who wanted to go out on dates all the time, let alone be the one to suggest most of them (and keep track of them), but here he is; about to go on his seventh date with you in three weeks. 

His seventh. 

Who the fuck was he?

When he turned his head and saw you walk out of your building, his jaw dropped just a bit as he took in your, for lack of better words, fucking hot outfit. You were wearing black jeans, a white crop top and ankle boots, and his blue flannel was draped over your shoulders, your hands barely visible as the shirt was way bigger on you than it was on him, and he felt his mouth go dry.

You looked absolutely stunning, like you always did, and Bradley was quickly coming to the realization after seeing you in his jersey, then his sweats and shirt earlier this week, and now his flannel, that he fucking loved it when you wore his clothes.

And you were going to wear his shirt on your date? Fuck, he wanted to pick you up and carry you right back to your bedroom.

He had meant to be a gentleman and open the door for you, but by the time he picked his jaw up off the floor, you were already sliding onto the seat next to him with a pretty smile on your lips, and a floral scent filled his senses. “Hi,” you greeted as you shut the door and leaned back, grinning as you looked at the seat warmer button that was switched on.

At least he remembered to turn that on before he was completely floored by how hot his girlfriend is. 

“Hey,” he said back, looking you up and down. You looked even better up close, and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip before he let out a low whistle. “Damn. You look fucking hot.”

You laughed, a mix of surprise and appreciation as you put on your seatbelt. “Thanks. You do too,” you blushed, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. When he made no move to start driving, you gave him a confused look as your gaze flickering between his eyes and the windshield. “What’s wrong?”

“You missed,” he answered as if you had asked him the easiest question he’d ever heard. When your brows furrowed even more, Bradley pointed to his mouth, and you rolled your eyes before leaning in and kissing him on the lips. 

His hand cradled the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, making you smile against his lips before you pulled away. “There. Better?” 

“Much,” he nodded before shifting the Jeep into drive and pulling away from your building. 

It was still light out when Bradley managed to find a spot to park in the very back of the parking lot, which was really just a massive field of gravel and dirt he couldn’t wait to pick out of his tires later.

The fair was also really big, so compared to all the cars you and he passed on the way to the front gate, the fair ground itself didn’t seem too packed since there were countless places and attractions around that ensured there wasn’t just a big crowd. 

Bradley’s fingers were loosely laced with yours as he gave you free rein of deciding where the two of you were going or what you were going to do. He honestly didn’t care what you did, his attention mainly on how gorgeous you looked in his flannel - which was so obviously his, he could see a few jealous stares from guys who seemed to think they had any chance with you as you pulled him along. 

When you suddenly turned and started tugging him with you towards the arcade, he laughed, because you were probably the only person he’d ever met that would start with the indoor arcade instead of the ferris wheel or the dart game.

A few minutes later, his forearm was braced on the top of some coin machine, his other hand holding a rather heavy bag of arcade coins that you were currently inserting into the machine over and over again. For every coin you knocked off the pile, you got five prize tickets, and you seemed to be having a blast doing just that while Bradley watched you. 

He was content doing anything you wanted to, and if you wanted to blow the entire bag on just this ‘game’, he wouldn’t stop you, especially since you looked absolutely adorable every time the machine printed out a stack of tickets for you. 

“So, flyboy,” you said, bringing his focus away from your pretty face as he gave you his full attention. “Have you decided on what your call sign is going to be once you become a pilot?” 

Bradley grinned, because you were the first person who had brought this topic back up since he told you about it. Eli and Wes and even Briana just listened with fake interest when he told them what he wanted to do for a career in the future, and then they never asked about it again. 

This was just another thing that made you a hundred times better than all three of them combined. You actually listened, and you actually wanted to hear about his plans for the future. “I thought we both decided on that together,” he answered, smirking at the way you quickly looked over at him with wide eyes. 

“Rooster?” you asked for clarification, and he was immediately brought back to his fourth date with you, when you and he had gotten each other off fully clothed in the front seat of his Jeep in the back of a parking garage after being way too distracted to get even halfway through the movie. “Seriously? Your call sign is going to be Rooster?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking it upon himself to insert another coin into the machine since you were completely focused on him now. “One, because it has the double O like my dad’s did, and two, because you came up with it.” 

Once the coin had fallen into the machine, Bradley turned to face you but was immediately gifted the sweet feeling of your mouth on his as you kissed him hard, right there in the middle of the arcade. “That is one of the sweetest, most sexiest fucking things anyone has ever said to me,” you mumbled, looking so serious as you caressed his jaw in both hands. “And I’m not even joking.”

Bradley smirked again, because he knew he had another thing to hold above your piece of shit ex. Even though he’d never met Luke, he still was going to call him that, because he was a piece of shit. And he let you go. What a fucking idiot.

Before Bradley could reply, the machine lit up from beside him, flashing yellow a few times before a bucket load of tickets began pouring out. He was so distracted by your surprise kiss, he didn’t realize that the coin he had put in ended up knocking over the pile and rewarding him with what looked like a never ending string of tickets. 

“Woah, baby, I think you won,” you laughed, stepping away from the machine as it continued to spurt out tickets onto the carpeted floor of the arcade. “I didn’t even know you could win this game.”

Bradley shrugged, leaning down to pick up the copious amount of tickets in one hand. “Guess I’m just that good,” he teased, trying to give them to you as he added, “Or maybe it’s because you’re my good luck charm.”

You blushed then shook your head when he tried to hand them to you again. “No, they’re yours. You won those,” you protested, and Bradley laughed. 

“Babes, I put one coin in this thing,” he pointed out, “You put in, like, thirty. They’re yours.”

Your smile was poorly hidden as you finally took them from him before leaning in and giving him another chaste kiss. “Well, thank you,” you mumbled, taking his hand in your free one. “Now we can move on from this game.”

-

Bradley was so fucking sweet, you wanted to kiss him every second of every hour. 

How could you not have realized that this is what a normal, healthy relationship feels like? Why had you put so much of your life into your relationship with your ex when he really didn’t treat you right?

Whatever the reason, you were more than happy to have found Bradley, because he was replacing all your bad experiences with amazing ones, and he had quickly become your favorite person. 

After you had used up all of the arcade coins and won a fuckton of tickets, you kept two and traded the rest of them in for a bunch of random prizes, like a t-shirt with the fair’s name on it, one of those tall cups that come with a weird straw that made it take forever to actually sip anything out of, and a few other small things Bradley had picked out that neither of you would ever need.

He offered to run everything back to the Jeep, so you stayed by the game booths and browsed them until he got back, and once he did, you pulled him over to the target game after a certain prize caught your eye. “Are you any good?” You ask, nodding towards the plastic gun set on the counter of the booth. 

“At this?” Bradley asked, looking at the various targets along the back wall. “I guess now is the time to admit that I’m kind of a bad shot.” 

His words surprised you, since he wanted to be an aviator and fly missions in a fighter jet, and that definitely required him to be a good shot, especially in the air. And you could tell that he was also embarrassed as his neck turned a bit red at his revelation. “Really? I mean, I might be wrong, but don’t you want to join the military? Or are you just a really good liar and only said that to impress me?”

Your words were playful and teasing as you took it upon yourself to pick up the gun. Bradley rolled his eyes as he nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it, I just-” he was promptly cut off when you aimed and fired one shot at the center of each target without batting an eye. 

When you turned to face him again, you nearly cackled at the look of complete shock on your boyfriend’s face. “You just what?” You asked, casually setting the gun down as he gaped at you. 

“How did you…” he trailed off, his eyes flickering between your own and the targets. “You just…I’m sorry, but at the risk of sounding like a complete jackass, how the fuck did you do that?”

You laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to his scarred cheek as he stared at you with a mix of surprise and something else, something stronger, and you weren’t sure if it was what you thought it was. “That? That was easy, flyboy,” you grinned, taking the stuffed goose from the teenaged boy that was running the game booth (who also looked equally as surprised as Bradley did). “Here, I won this for you.”

His gaze flickered down to the stuffed animal, and that same look was in his eyes when he looked back up at you and took it. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you, subtly guiding you away from the booth so the next person could shoot their shot. Bradley kissed you over and over again, the stuffed goose you won him pressed against your back as he held you close to him, his other hand cradling the back of your neck. “You’re absolutely perfect, and I think I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You laughed against his mouth, pulling away as you blushed, his words doing a real number on you. “You think?” You teased, lacing your fingers with his as you snuggled into his side. Before he could say anything, your eyes caught sight of the cotton candy cart, and you were tugging him along with you as he clutched the goose like it was porcelain. 

A few minutes later, you were standing in line for the ferris wheel, a pink cotton candy cone in your hand as you fed handfuls of it to Bradley, who had what seemed to be a permanent love-struck expression on his face. “You’re pretty,” he mumbled suddenly and you snorted.

“What has gotten into you? I won a stuffed animal for you and now you’re all clingy and smiley,” you observe, tossing the cardboard cone into the trashcan as you moved further up the line. “It’s sexy, don’t get me wrong, but what did I do to deserve it?”

Bradley raised his brow at you as he answered, “You won me a goose,”

It didn’t make much sense to you - the only reason you wanted to play that game was to win him the goose because of his dad, but if it made him happy, then you would stop questioning it. 

When you got to the front of the line, the guy operating the ferris wheel had to confiscate Bradley’s goose in case he dropped it or something, and you had never seen him glare so hard at a total stranger before. 

You were holding back a laugh as you got strapped in, and had to bury your face against his arm. “That guy’s just trying to do his job and keep us safe and you’re glaring at him,” 

Bradley turned to look at you with an unimpressed expression on his face, and you laughed harder at the way his lips curved downwards. “He took my goose,”

“He had to,” you pointed out once the wheel started moving. “And you’ll get it back. Jesus, I didn’t think you’d like it this much.” 

“Are you kidding?” he asked, draping his arm around you as the ferris wheel moved even more. “Babes, you make me so fucking happy with everything you do. You listen, you actually care about me, and you remember things that most wouldn’t think twice about. I’m crazy about you.”

Well, now you wish you weren’t sixty feet in the air, because all you wanted to do was crawl on his lap and kiss him senseless. He was so fucking sweet. 

You couldn’t exactly crawl onto his lip right now, but you could definitely kiss him, so that’s what you did. 

Leaning over, you pressed your lips to his in a searing kiss, taking him by surprise this time as you gripped his jaw with your fingers. You weren’t sure how many kisses you’ve shared with him since he picked you up, and you didn’t care. Kissing him felt so good, so right, and you never wanted to stop doing it.

And from the way Bradley kissed you right back, you could tell that he didn’t want to stop doing it either. 

Once you were back on the ground, and after Bradley promptly grabbed his goose back from the ferris wheel operator, he guided you over to the ring toss game, then shoved the stuffed animal into your hand. “You got to show off earlier,” he said, twirling the rings around his finger before smirking over at you. “It’s my turn.”

You raised your brow, holding back a laugh as you turned and watched him toss the rings onto the bottles with very little effort. And he won. “Okay,” you started, turning to face him again with squinted eyes. “You tell me you have bad aim, but you managed to win this? How does that make any sense?” 

Bradley shrugged, keeping his eyes on you as he was handed his prize. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I have no idea how I just did that. And I still want to know why you’re such a good shot.” 

You laughed, then looked at what he was holding, and laughed again. “Wow, you won a fish,” 

He looked down at the bag in his hand, a dumb grin on his face when he handed it to you and took back his goose. “You won a fish, actually,” he corrected, “I won a goose.”

You narrowed your eyes as you shook your head. “That’s not at all what actually happened, but you’re hot so I’ll let it slide,” you mumbled, then looked at the bag with a small little red fish inside of it. “Poor thing. It’s cute though.”

Bradley raised a brow as he looked at the fish as well. “I mean, I guess so,”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s not very nice, especially since we’re it’s parents now,” you say, and both his brows shot up as he let out a surprised laugh. 

“Oh, are we?” he grunted, draping his arm around your shoulders as he started leading you to the exit. You were joking, and were also kind of serious, but also didn’t want to weird him out. But before you could say anything else, he continued, “Well, if that’s the case, it needs a name then.”

Your smile grew a few sizes at that, because not only had he not been weirded out, but he played along. “Well,” you trailed off, looking at the fish as he walked you through the dark parking lot. When your eyes caught sight of the ‘F’ written in sharpie on the side of the bag, you grinned. “Her name will be…BB.”

“BB?” Bradley laughed, his free hand fumbling around in his pocket for his keys. 

“Yep,” you nodded, “BB Bradshaw.”

“Alright,” Bradley mumbled once you were right next to the red Jeep. “What does that stand for?” 

You leaned against the passenger side door, a teasing smirk on your face. “Bad Bitch Bradshaw,” you answered, trying to ignore the jolt of heat that shot through your body when he braced his forearm against the window above your head. He was so hot, and he didn’t even know it. “Obviously.” 

Bradley hummed, “Obviously,” before leaning down and giving you what felt like your hundredth kiss of the night. “Come on, babes. I’m taking you home.” He mumbled, then his lips found yours in another deep kiss, this one much longer.

[loulovingho]

i’ve got nothing but rocker & deacon on the brain esp when i’m bored lol

what’s your fav headcanon of them & their relationship??? ones you’ve thought about but haven’t talked about yet?

Once it’s not just about the sex anymore, and they start to get to know each other on a more personal level, they’re actually really fucking soft with one another. Gentle and kind and open in ways they’ve never been before with anyone else. Yeah, they can smack talk all day long too, and they are sarcastic with each other a lot, but when they get in each other’s way making dinner and they both can’t help but laugh, Deacon is wrapping an arm around Rocker’s waist and pulling him in for a kiss. And Deacon always lets out a gravelly, “Mmm,” with those kisses because they aren’t meant to lead anywhere but they still hold so much love and care.

Rocker enjoys rough sex, and Deacon learns he does too. It takes him a little bit to get used to some of the name calling that Rocker likes, and the fact he enjoys having the bruises and beard burns from a hard fuck or getting eaten out, but once he knows for a fact how much Rocker loves it he realizes just how much he loves it too. Still, once they’re done, Deacon just wants to be near Rocker. Wants to lie beside him and be wrapped up by him. And he’s actually shocked by how quickly they switch roles. It’s Rocker pulling him in giving him gentle kisses and taking care of him.

Deacon has always felt like the protector. He still does. He feels protective over his family, his coworkers, and Rocker. But he finds it feels really good to feel protected too. And that’s what Rocker does.

[maidflowery]

Fortified Wager ♣♣♣ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 8

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 7】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐕𝐒 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 (𝟏)

╔══ ≪ ♥♦♥ ≫ ══╗

“See? You should have just kept quiet and done as you were told. The truth is, I actually like you. You’re quiet and obedient.”

When Big Baddie stood up, you realized he was twice your size.

So, you let the gems fall, teetering on the edge of the table as bait.

Sorry, Aventurine.

Meanwhile, you let your watch slid over your knuckle as a makeshift brass knuckle. There was no way you’d deal any real damage otherwise.

“I was just trying to save you, you know? I’m sure you also don’t know this, but that Avgin slave over there killed his owner.”

The moment he leaned in, eager to grab a hold of the gems, you swung your fist straight into his face!

“Of course I know, you piece of shit!

Otherwise, what kind of Aventurine’s fan were you?

“Uuoorrggh—!!”

As your fist connected with his nose, you felt the sharp impact reverberate through your knuckles, followed by a sudden, jarring crunch. Big Baddie took the punch square in the face and staggered backward. Soon, he lost his balance and fell, crashing to the ground in a heap.

Regret always came too late.

As you watched your wristwatch fell, shattering its glass on the floor, you realized you still loved it after all!! Also, your hand hurt like a bitch! Shit! Fuck! You could feel tears welling up in your eyes.

Above all, you were furious.

Aventurine never even brought up his past, so who the fuck gave this guy the right to do so?!

You recalled how the pair of violet-cyan eyes looked so lifeless and devoid of emotion the moment his past was mentioned. It was clearly something difficult—something he preferred to keep private, and for obvious reasons.

If Aventurine were a male lead in a romance novel, it would have taken over 100 chapters and three different arcs before he revealed his past!! Even then, it would be only to the person he trusted most, someone he felt comfortable being vulnerable with!! That was just how delicate this was!!

And yet, and yet... this guy, heartlessly, in front of everyone...

In the past, Aventurine's entire family and clan were massacred by their enemies. Though he survived the ordeal, he was soon enslaved. Only God knows the depths of trauma and torment he suffered at their hands—enough to drive him to kill.

“—Hahahaha! Of course! Of course she doesn’t know! That's what you get for letting his looks fool you!”

“Do you know how hard I’ve been holding back my laugh?! I was wondering how to break the news this whole time! Hahahaha!”

Of course, taking a life was rarely, if ever, justified.

But that is not a reason to laugh at or shame him?! Especially not this bastard, who drove two innocent children to seek revenge!!

A single tear rolled down your cheek. Regret, anger, sorrow and pain washed over you all at once—mostly pain.

While shaking your stinging hand like crazy, you screamed at Big Baddie, “But so what—?! So what if he killed his master?!”

If you were beaten within an inch of your life every day and treated far worse than an animal, what would you do?

If you had nothing left to live for but to await your death at the hands of your enslaver, how would you respond?

“—I’d have done the same!!”

Your shoulders heaved up and down as you struggled to regain composure. All you knew was that you were ranting out of sheer rage.

“Shut up!!” Big Baddie stood up while covering his nose. He glowered at you like a beast, blood oozing out of his hands. “You're just a pathetic slut serving tables!! Do you really think I can't destroy you?! That worthless slave won't protect you from me!!”

“...!”

You instantly went quiet.

Seeing this, Big Baddie grinned with triumph, blood staining his gold and white teeth.

...That’s right.

Back when you were merely a third party, you could easily dismiss the whole incident with Big Baddie as "unreasonable." As much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t see it as that big of a deal.

Why didn’t the staff just skirt around the problem, make some excuses, and feign ignorance? Or, even better yet, fight back. Then, call the authority if things escalated. Easy-peasy.

Well, the reason, as it turned out, was plain and simple.

It was the same reason you didn’t pick a fight with every professor who imposed outrageous assignments or feedbacks on you. Or why you hadn’t shoved your middle finger down Erin’s—your actual manager at the restaurant you actually worked at—prissy throat yet.

Because you’d be a dropout and without a job. Now, you wouldn’t say that you knew how every single staff in Primavera felt, but you certainly wouldn’t survive without your job, let alone switch colleges.

Facing against Billy Burnett, the infamous iron-fisted loan-shark, the stakes were even higher. One wrong move, and your entire life could be in jeopardy.

“Need I remind you what kind of authority they have? A single word from them could ruin the lives of many. I wouldn’t care if you’re the only one affected, but I also have something to protect, so stay in your lane.”

You recalled Marius’ words.

You wouldn’t blame him either—or anyone, for that matter. Everyone had their own circumstances. It was called “picking your battles.”

Which was why, only you could do this.

If it wasn’t you—who would?

You grinned.

Thanks for the reminder, Big Baddie.

Thus, as the waiter of the high-end nightclub Primavera, you shot back, “Watch your language! Aventurine is one of our most valued customers, and we do not tolerate any form of abuse or mistreatment toward him!”

“Wha—?!”

Big Baddie had a dumb look on his face. Perhaps this was the first time someone had called him out so boldly.

Also, you weren’t even lying!! Who else could singlehandedly quadruple the profit of a luxurious nightclub?! Calling him Primavera Jesus would be more fitting! Obviously, the staff would want to cling to him—especially after what you were about to do in their uniform, using their name!

While Big Baddie was still flabbergasted, you continued.

“—Given that this behavior has persisted, we are left with no choice but to ask you to leave and ban you from returning!”

After enduring his tyranny for so long, those were likely the words the staff had been dying to say, but couldn’t.

Then, your gaze briefly landed on your crisp, black uniform. Her uniform.

Of course, you wouldn’t pretend to understand how Judith felt either.

Still, when everyone else was too terrified or stunned to do anything, her manager took a punch in the face for her. If you were her, you’d be happy, knowing that most managers out there wouldn’t do even half as much—and at the same time, sad. But above all, angry.

So, you thought of saying this for her.

“—Also, that’s for punching my manager, asshole!!!”

Yes, only you, or specifically, Aschenputtel, could do this.

Aschenputtel, who was destined to lost her job either way. Aschenputtel, who had neither family nor friends, and would disappear past midnight.

Hence, you, Aschenputtel, decided—

—I’m taking you down with me, Big Baddie.

╚══════╝

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ９】

I realized that at the rate I was doing it before, the update will only come once a month, or even 2 months in case anything happened. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა I don't want to keep you guys hanging for that long. So I decided to post it as soon as a part is finished. Do tell me if any of you prefer that I just finish it as a whole before updating :D

[whiskeyneat-coffeeblack]

*clears throat*

BOOM SHAKALAKA WE ARE SO BACK.

It's Monday.

And yesterday you had Joel all day.

I had to take many deep breaths while reading this chapter.

how it'd felt to stand in this room and feel finally right when Joel'd not yet done a thing but look at you.

Like so many.

With a mountain of clothes heaped on your bed, you sigh at yourself. Stupid. You're being stupid. Joel's seen you wear just about everything-your rattiest work drab and every sun-dress, dark shadows beneath your eyes and red lipstick-and still wanted you. Still drove out here in the middle of the night and expected nothing, just wanted a chance. Just wanted to be with you.

Are you joking?? The giddiness and excitement had me kicking my feet!!

A little time to crank yourself down before you have to show your face to the person who'll surely ruin it, make you tender and blushing all over again. Proving that there remains a piece of you somewhere-lodged and lost as it once was-that wants to be held. That wants to care.

Sweet Nelle is letting down some walls and I’ve never been happier omg.

You roll your eyes at her, smiling. Sometimes she looks so much like the toddler she was, all giddiness and reckless excitement, your chest goes melts to goo. As she drinks—no more than an hour from a sugar high you'll curse yourself for causing-you scrunch your nose at the kid and she squints back, lowering the thermos to catch her breath.

Every time Nelle is emotional about Ellie getting older I may or may not get a little misty eyed… I love their dynamic and I love all of Ellie. She’s such a sweet and funny girlie.

"You're a mess," she says tiredly to you both, and shakes her head, rolling her eyes. It's a gesture so far beyond her years-something Anna does all the time when she's resigned or in disbelief-that you feel your whole face twitch with a want to laugh. It still surprises you some days, seeing Ellie get older, walking around like some miniature Anna: a recreation of the girl with whom your childhood was made.

Ellie has such a distinct voice and sense of who she is and I know she knows she’s so loved and safe and cared for by Anna and Nelle and I can’t HANDLE IT.

Her hand lowers and from where you're sitting you can just make out the clumsy doodle of a woman screaming who must be Anna that Ellie's scribbled on her cast, a speech bubble declaring, I CAN'T ROLLER SKATE!!! above her head.

Like case in point. But on a different note… this next bit… 😶

"Like when you smell like me," Joel says, and you're fucked, really. You don't stand a goddamn chance. All that willpower that for four years has kept you safe and guarded will lose to him every time. As long as he's touching you, there isn't a chance in hell you choose anything but him, ask for anything but more.

I’ve PRAYED for times like these 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

He shrugs. "Not workin'."

"So you lied to my sister," you gasp, but he just clicks his tongue. Guilty and not one bit sorry if the look on his face is anything to go off.

Ugh I have nothing else coherent to say. I’m knocked on my ass by your writing every single time you update!! You and this fic are magic!!!!!

🌟🌟🌟

SEE YOU AT THREE

chapter fifteen: ALWAYS EARLY

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Young!Joel x f!Reader OC (Ellie's aunt)

Word Count: 9.6k

Full Content Warnings under the cut to avoid spoilers if you don't want them!

read from the beginning | series masterlist | almostfoxglove masterlist

SUMMARY: You get some surprising mail and Joel pays you a visit at the bakery.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

Yes. Once or twice it’s held you captive and restless through midnight’s trickster hours, looking for an edge, a shape, a name for the feeling you have now as you stare at his profile, the handsome slope of his nose, and he stares out the glass front door. Like although you weren’t expecting to see him before pickup—you’ve nonetheless been waiting for the surprise all day. Since the second you woke.

continue reading chapter 15 on ao3.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto - tag list below!

NOTE: I am officially moving away from tag lists as they've gotten lengthy (thank you for that <3) so please follow @foxglovenotifs and turn on notifications to get alerts for future updates!

CW: Discussions of divorce/break-ups, mild smut (piv, f!oral, sorta public sex), anna being a goddamn menace, sneaking around shenanigans.

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @biggetywitch @tuquoquebrute 

@thundermartini @la-eterna-enamorada29  @pastelpinkflowerlife @ak-vintage @sjc7542 

@harriedandharassed @noisynightmarepoetry @jessthebaker @sweetpascal @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @evolnoomym @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @pedritosgfreal

@missladym1981 @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @mellymbee @kyberblade @melancholyy-hill 

@luxurychristmaspudding @for-a-longlongtime @jolapeno @bambisweethearts @joeldidnothingwrong 

@persephone-girl @mandicular @madinthemoon @picketniffler @stellaiuna 

@reedrchards @cuppajoel @jrnreads @mellymbee @darlingghoulette 

@picketniffler @murphyjett @76bookworm76 @cuteanimalmama

[biblical-chronicles]

A quiet shift

_______________________________________________________

where Liam starts distancing himself as his mind has led him to believe that the reader feels summat for Noel, the reader helps him to understand that he's actually the one for her.

_______________________________________________________

You’d always been caught in the middle of the Gallagher brothers. Not in a dramatic way—most of the time, anyway—but in that strange, chaotic balance they both seemed to keep. You were mates with both, though in different ways.

For months now, you’d been growing closer to Liam. There was an ease about him that felt like home—well, when he wasn’t winding you up for fun. He had this knack for making you laugh when you needed it most, for knowing exactly what to say to brighten your day. Somewhere along the way, the laughs and the banter shifted into something more, though neither of you dared to admit it.

But then, something changed.

At first, it was little things. Liam didn’t call you "love" as often, nor did he call you at random times of the day just to make you laugh. Then, when you’d pop over to see him, he’d make an excuse to stay busy, the warmth of your conversations cooling into something awkward and distant. The banter, the light-hearted insults, and that signature Liam energy—it all seemed to drain away. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, but when you’d look his way, he’d turn away like nothing happened.

You’d tried to brush it off, thinking maybe he was just having an off week. But weeks turned into over a month, and the pit in your stomach only grew heavier. It wasn’t just that you missed him; it was the way he’d gone cold without explanation. You started overthinking every interaction. Did you say something wrong? Was he annoyed at you for some reason?

One afternoon, after a particularly awkward encounter where Liam barely acknowledged you, you found yourself pacing in Noel’s kitchen while he leaned lazily against the counter, sipping on a brew.

“What’s up with you then?” Noel asked, raising a brow. “You’re wearin’ a hole in me floor, stomping about like that.”

You stopped, crossing your arms. “It’s Liam. He’s been acting... weird. Like, properly weird.”

Noel smirked, already amused. “Weird how? He finally grown a brain?”

You shot him a look, but he just shrugged.

“He’s been avoiding me,” you admitted, biting your lip. “Won’t talk like he used to. Barely even looks at me and I don’t know what I’ve done.”

Noel took another sip of tea, clearly holding back a laugh. “You? Nah, you ain’t done owt. He’s probably just bein’ his usual daft self.”

“That’s not helpful, Noel.”

“Look,” Noel said, setting down his mug, “Liam’s stupid. Like, properly thick, always has been, always will be. He probably thinks you and me have summat goin’ on.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “Me and you? That’s ridiculous, he surely doesn't”

“Yeah, I know that,” Noel said, chuckling. “But him? He sees you hangin’ round here, havin’ a laugh with me, and his brain turns to mush. He gets all shy when he’s actually feelin’ summat for someone, y’know.”

Your cheeks flushed. “He—he feels something for me you think?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Noel muttered, rubbing his temples. “It’s so obvious it hurts. He’s just too much of a muppet to say owt.”

The pieces started falling into place, and a mix of relief and frustration flooded through you, although you were still doubtful of Noel's theory. After all reading Liam wasn't the easiest of tasks.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath, “I’m gonna have to talk to him either way, aren’t I?”

Noel raised a brow. “Good luck with that. R’kid’s as stubborn as a mule. But, hey, might be worth it, just don’t tell him I helped, yeah? Can’t have him thinkin’ I’m nice or owt.”

You laughed despite yourself, feeling a slight spark of hope for the first time in weeks.

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside Liam’s bedroom door, nerves rattling your chest. You’d rehearsed what to say a hundred times on the way over, but now, staring at the scuffed wood of the door, every word had fled your mind.

Still, you couldn’t back out now—not after everything. Summoning your courage, you raised your hand and knocked. A shuffling noise came from inside, and after a moment, the door creaked open.

Liam stood there, dressed in a plain T-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly disheveled. He didn’t flash that cheeky grin you’d come to expect, nor did he give his usual “Alright, love?” Instead, he just nodded slightly and stepped aside to let you in, his silence hitting you harder than any insult could.

You walked in, your eyes scanning the familiar room. The bed was unmade, a few discarded records lay scattered on the floor, and a small pile of clothes lay in the corner. Usually, the space felt warm but now, it felt muted, the weight of Liam's distance pressing down on you.

He stayed by the door, arms crossed as he leaned back against the frame, avoiding your gaze. The air between you was tense, heavy with unspoken words.

You took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Alright, spill it,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nowt’s goin’ on,” he mumbled, not moving from his spot.

“Don’t give me that,” you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Liam. You barely talk to me, you don’t even joke around anymore. It’s like I don’t even know you right now.”

He shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting your eyes. “You’re makin’ a big deal out of nothin’, love.”

“Nothin’?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You’ve practically shut me out, Liam! Do you know how much that’s messed with me head? I’ve been sitting here thinking I’ve done something wrong, that I’ve somehow fucked this up without even knowing it.”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, finally glancing at you. His voice defensive, his posture stiff, only fueling your frustration.

“Then what is it like?” you demanded, standing up now, unable to stay still. “Because I’m at me wit’s end, Liam. You’re the most important person in me life, and I feel like I’m losing you. Do you even care how much that’s hurt?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and before you could stop yourself, tears started streaming down your cheeks. You hated crying—especially in front of him—but the weeks of bottled-up emotions had finally burst free.

Liam’s head shot up at the sound of your voice breaking, his defensive walls crumbling in an instant. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you. “Don’t—don’t cry, love.”

But you couldn’t stop. You sat back down on the bed, burying your face in your hands, the sobs shaking your shoulders. “It does matter, Liam,” you choked out, your voice muffled. “I’m so lost. I don’t know what’s happening, and it hurts so much to lose you.”

Liam crouched in front of you now, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he didn’t know whether he was allowed to touch you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “C’mon now, don’t... don’t cry. Please.”

When you didn’t look up, he sighed and hesitantly placed a hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for bein’ a knob. Just... look at me, yeah?”

Reluctantly, you lowered your hands, your tear stained face meeting his wide, worried eyes. “Why, Liam?” you whispered. “Why have you been like this?”

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I thought... I thought you and Noel had summat goin’ on.”

You blinked at him, utterly confused. “Me and Noel?” you repeated, your voice incredulous. “What the hell gave you that idea?” You said not believing Noel's theory to actually hold true.

He shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Dunno. You’re always round his gaff, laughin’ at his shite jokes. Figured I was just gettin’ in the way.”

Your jaw dropped, and despite the raw emotions swirling in your chest, you let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re a fucking moron, Liam.”

He flinched, misinterpreting your tone, and started to pull back. But before he could, you grabbed his hand, holding him in place. “No, listen to me,” you said firmly, your voice steady now. “You’re a moron because you could’ve just asked. Instead, you’ve been torturing me for weeks over something that doesn’t even exist.”

His brows furrowed. “So... you and him... there’s nowt going on?”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed, giving his shoulder a light shove. “Noel’s like... like an annoying older brother. And he thinks you’re a muppet, by the way, for getting this in your head.”

A flicker of his old self returned as a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be wrong, would he?”

You rolled your eyes, but the sight of that smile sent a wave of relief washing over you. “No, he wouldn’t. But you’re me muppet, alright? And if you ever pull this shite again, I’ll knock some sense into you.”

For the first time in weeks, Liam let out a proper laugh—a warm, hearty sound that filled the room. “Fair play,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m sorry, love. I dunno what I was thinkin’. Just got scared, I guess. Thought I’d lose you either way.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you said, giving him a watery smile. “so get that through your thick skull.”

His grin widened, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Stuck with me, eh? Lucky you.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Before you could say anything else, Liam pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, the weeks of tension and confusion finally slipping away.

As you pulled back slightly, he tilted his head, his nose brushing against yours. “Can I...?” he started, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

You didn’t let him finish. Closing the gap, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss warm and full of all the emotions you’d been holding back. When you finally broke apart, he smirked down at you.

“Knew you fancied me,” he teased, his energy back to normal.

You swatted his arm playfully. “Don’t push it, Gallagher.”

But as he leaned in for another kiss, you couldn’t help but smile. It was good to have your Liam back as a friend and summat more now.

________________________________________________________

me daft brain totally left this one sittin' in the drafts... So massive apologies to the person who asked for this a while back. But it’s here now, so I hope it was at least worth the wait. Proper sorry again, and if you wanna throw another request my way, I’ll sort ya with a priority pass xx

[wreckedandpolemic]

groupie au girlie has these and he freaks the fuck out when he sees them

IM SCREAMINDHFBDFB no because you definitely got given them as a gag gift YEARSSS ago and now they’re like wash day underwear so it’s months before he ever sees them and he’s like What the fuck are you wearing and you’re literally mortified 😭 like i swear im not crazy it was a JOKE and i ran out of panties!!! obviously he’s more than happy to take them off you though <3

[novelconcepts]

As gently and politely as I can put this: that post I made about outliving him is meant to be an anti-suicide affirmation. It is not meant to be a blinders-on assessment of reality, of the future boiling down to whether one man lives or dies. It is meant to reassure myself and everyone else that the horrors come, and the horrors go, that nothing is permanent, that hope persists with split knuckles and blood on its teeth. Things are rough. Things will likely get rougher. My eyes are open to that, but in the end, the first thing they want from us is to roll over, surrender, die. And I will not be granting that wish. I deserve to be here. You deserve to be here. We deserve to see the sun rise. And it will. I promise.

[superbat-lmao]

Something that I relate to Jason Todd about is the alienation from your family that happens when you go through something traumatic.

I have had family members that try and bring up the cute kid I was and reminisce about a child that I am no longer able to feel connected to because of specific traumas. And I think Jason has a similar go of it in fanon.

The idea that who Bruce, Dick, and the rest of the family miss is the cute kid who used to be Robin and liked reading and was excited for school? Yeah, and that’s not who he is anymore. The memories of being that kid physically hurt, because you can’t separate out the fact that you were innocent from what happened to you. You already know the end to the story, and it’s not good.

You can’t go back to your innocence and you have to live with whatever messy and terrible things you’ve done to cope with the fact that you couldn’t handle your trauma in the way people wanted you to. It fucks you up and it feels like you’re two different people: that kid who could have done great things, and the person you are now that is stuck with all of the things you’ve done wrong.

Jason not wanting to see his family or having true difficulty reconciling with his family is on par with the glass case, the evidence that who his family wants back isn’t the person he became and is, but the kid he was. And no one is happy with the fact that he “isn’t the same kid that was lost”.

He’s changed in ways that aren’t all good, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.

I can’t imagine being Bruce or Dick or Alfred or Barbra and remembering the cute kid who thought Robin was magic. Of missing who you were before that kid died and the way it changed you as a person. Of wanting that kid back and also wanting what felt like yourself back.

Because it’s not just Jason’s grief that they have to contend with, it’s their own loss of themselves. Bruce is not the same father he was before he lost Jason and there’s no getting that man back. There’s no green light that he’ll be able to reach that undoes the past and restores his son to who he wanted him to be and himself to who he wishes he was.

I can’t imagine trying to rebuild that bridge when both people on either side are veritable strangers and looking for someone who doesn’t exist anymore.

Also, the tendency for fanon to have Jason “fall back into Robin training” is doubly painful. Because he can’t go back to being Robin. So anything that he does that is reminiscent of that kid, either in how he handles victims, or inside jokes with his family, or grumbling about current interests is going to look like maybe that kid still exists somewhere in Jason. That Jason is just lost or that something can be done in order to bring that kid out in certain circumstances when the truth is that it’s part of who he is, but it’s no longer the controlling part of his personality and it can’t be, because that kid wasn’t equipped to deal with what adult Jason has to deal with.

Being continually compared to a dead kid has got to suck worse than an older sibling standard. Especially when you never wanted to become what you are in the first place.

[ninyard]

hello I would like the kevallison smut ?? Please

The promised kevallison headcanons (aka how the two of them figure out what the other person is into + how they might go about doing it)

When they start hooking up it’s all pretty standard stuff. Allison gets him off after a game. Kevin eats her out if there’s ten minutes free in between classes and an empty dorm room. They’re a booty call before, during or after a night out, or a no-strings-attached way to get some frustration off their chest. Their friends-with-benefits situation is more often than not just a quick fuck when they’re bored. But it's kind of just… that? It's just fucking. It's a handful of different positions, in a handful of different places, but nothing more than fucking, finishing, and leaving. They don’t feel a need to bring it any further though, in some ways hesitant that the other will catch feelings if it gets too intimate. But from the get-go their agreement is clear - if either starts to get attached, or jealous, or even thinks that it might be worth pursuing, they stop. It doesn’t happen, of course, but in the beginning they really try to err on the side of caution until they know that for certain.

There’s one of two ways that their casual hook ups becomes more... interesting every now and again: one) accidentally. two) intentionally.

If it is accidental, I think they stumble upon the other’s kinks by the Grace of God. It's a quick fuck that turns into something more because one of them picks up on how the other's demeanor changes and they realise oh. oh. That did something for them. The moment when it happens is so intoxicating and sexually charged; So intense at the realisation of how turned on the other person is, that they’re just waiting for someone in the dorm room over, or outside the bathroom at a party, or in the almost-empty parking lot to ask did anyone hear Allison and Kevin fucking last night? For either of them, single and used to quick fucks with strangers that don't mean anything nor have the longevity for experimenting with, getting to dip into their fantasies is unparalleled pleasure.

If it’s accidental, it’s a pleasant surprise for them both, and Kevin and Allison have that in common - they are both incredibly, heavily turned on by their fuck-buddies feeling satisfied. It happens, where sometimes Kevin just wants to be blown without returning the gesture, or where Allison wants to come without having to put in the effort it takes to give back. More often than not, though, whether it be with each other or with other people, they're most satisfied when the other person is satisfied, too. So when the topic of kinks and turn ons is broached, or accidentally revealed, it doesn't matter that it's Kevin, or that it's Allison. When they've been fucking for long enough that they find themselves discovering these things, they're comfortable enough with each other to not feel embarrassed about what happens when they have sex. If it makes her wet, and it keeps him hard, then it doesn't matter. They don't talk about their sex lives outside of when or where it happens - a kink or two isn't going to change that.

For Kevin, sweet submissive baby boy who just lives to be praised - oh, when Allison finds out, it opens this door for changing their dynamics that she hadn't even realised existed. Kevin gets so turned on that he practically melts, and Allison eats it up like it's the hottest thing she's ever laid eyes on.

They've found themselves standing up against a wall in a bathroom at a party somewhere, too many suggestive looks across the room leading to a desperately desired handjob or two, and Kevin is fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He struggles with it for a second, before pulling the black leather out from it's square frame and Allison offhandedly says good job with a laugh as she trails kisses up his neck and her fingers down his stomach. She feels his reaction to her words before she notices how his eyes glaze over with the thoughts in his head; how he stills at her words, how he's yearning through his sigh when she follows with a knowing whisper of oh, you want me to tell you how good you're being?

Him in her hand, the long acrylic nails of her free hand dragging lines down his neck, Allison feels how needy he is and softly purrs in his ear to tell her how much he wants it. It's not lost on him how she plays with him like putty between her tender fingers, but still he looks into her eyes with his eyebrows knitted into each other, too close to argue; The please that escapes his lips trapped in between a gasp and a moan is rebutted with her sultry say it again. I want to hear that pretty voice beg. It takes the stalling of the rhythm in her working hand before he finds the ability to whimper out his desperate please, please, please. She's using her free hand to hold his face still, their eyes locked together, while he can barely keep himself in one piece. Her thumb is soft over his lips, brushing over little gasps and short breaths, holding him while she whispers a question and he falls apart in her hands.

If Kevin loves to be topped by strong women, Allison loves to hear a man moan. And she’s never heard him like this before, his lips drawn apart just inches from hers, one hand steadying himself against the wall and the other tugging and pawing at the skin of the small of her back. She doesn't let him look away as she guides him to climax with her soft words of gentle praise. How pretty he looks when he's trying his hardest to be quiet, how well he's doing at keeping himself composed.

Allsion doesn't care that she's accidentally unlocked this submissive side of Kevin; firstly, he's hot as hell when he's this desperate, and it's not as if she's going to be leaving that bathroom and calling him a good boy on the court, because that's not how this works. She's fucked him angry and she's fucked him needy - the passion of fulfilled fantasy only working on a different level to anything else.

(When he's caught his breath and started to clean himself up, she washes her hands and admires her work; his rosy cheeks burning up as she watches him in the mirror. She pushes herself up onto the vanity, and when he can finally bare to look at her again, she says I'm proud of you with a playful smile. Kevin covers his face to laugh in semi-embarrassment, his head shaking as he finds himself in between her legs. They don't talk about it too much before he returns the favour.)

Then there's, Allison, sweet Allison, who's interests work in harmony like a perfect composed song. We knows she loves to hear the men she sleeps with, but there's two things that really get her going that more often than not go hand in hand - rough sex, and loud sex. Living in dorms, it's hard to indulge, especially the second, but usually she'll just pull him close, with his lips to her ear or hers to his. Allison gets off on hearing the person she's fucking, and Kevin is not an exception to that.

They've somehow had a stroke of luck - an empty house in Columbia and some time to kill. Kevin is on the edge of the bed, and Allison is facing Kevin while sitting on his lap, her knees resting on either side of him, in a skirt that is already so short that it's barely even there. They're making out, and Kevin isn't really thinking, but he slaps her ass - something he'd done once or twice before, but never that hard, never that loud. Allison sits back, hands on his shoulders with her mouth open wide. She doesn't get the chance to finish her questioning what are you doing? Before his mischievous smile curls around, what, this? as he laughs and does it again. When she stands up off of him in a half-protest, shaking her finger at how close he was getting to really getting her going, he follows her up. He stands in front of her with feigned apologies for his boldness. She leans into his kiss, with arms wrapped tight around her waist, but instead of pouting his lips, he picks her up and throws her back onto the bed while she scream-laughs.

Body over body, on top of her then, a hand finds it's way in between strands of shiny blonde. A hand that she takes into hers, guiding his fist to grasp a handful of her hair. When he doesn't hold it hard enough she tugs it gently, keeping his fist closed with her hand around it. Looking down at her, he purses his lips with an oh that pauses his other hand while it pushes up her skirt to touch her over her panties. Reading him while waiting for the laugh that never comes is agonisingly long, as she braces herself for the mortifying conversation that he was not going to be entertaining it. Instead he waits for her hand to trail away before pulling her head, hard, back into the bed. And when she shuts her eyes and parts her lips in pleasure, he is quick to bring his hand up to her chin, tilting her head back. The two smallest of his fingers fingers tuck themselves neatly behind her ear, the other two tight between her jawline and her cheekbone. The ball of his thumb is resting on her chin. She doesn't stop him when his thumb trails down from her cupid's bow and into her mouth. She doesn't stop him when he takes it out hold it around her throat, either. Kevin is careful to scatter wet bruises down her chest where they won't be seen. When he's standing back to take off his pants and she’s lifting her top over her head, he asks, you want it hard? and she responds do you even fucking have to ask?

Her skirt is up over her hips and her thong down her thighs. He’s on his knees with her legs over his thighs, maybe he’s pinning her hands down above her head with one big hand over her little wrists. Headboard banging, unrestrained volume, handprints on ass cheeks and scratches across spines. Allison gets sex-drunk when he manhandles her. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s so hot that it’s on fire. It’s eye-rolling, being in a daze afterwards type of fucking. It’s mascara running down cheeks, how the fuck am I supposed to look anyone in the eye after having that done to me type of fucking. It’s needing to have a shower immediately afterwards type of sweaty, messy fucking.

(It’s probably one of the only times they almost/kind of get caught. Not because of the noise, or the sex itself but because of the aftermath. Andrew and Neil clock INSTANTLY the missing and changed details when they regroup - how Kevin’s hair is freshly washed, how Allison has taken her heavy makeup off leaving only a fresh coat of mascara and some lipgloss remaining. How they can barely look at each other in case it reminds them of what has just happened. Their puffy lips, their general daze. Yeah, they fly a little too close to the sun that time - not enough time afterwards to recuperate from an absolutely dirty, filthy, fucking.)

If it's an intentional thing, a discussion about what they're into, and they know before getting into it/it's a conscious choice/it's intentional/some sort of discussion/WHATEVER? There's a few ways I could potentially see it possibly coming up.

A game of Never Have I Ever or some other drinking game with the group and the discussions of kinks come up; Kevin drinks when somebody mentions a praise kink, or being dominated. Allison drinks when somebody mentions liking it rough. Their looks to each other are quick but knowing, Kevin's raised eyebrows when Allison drinks to say she doesn't mind being degraded, the flick of her eyes when he drinks to say he doesn't mind begging for it.

They don't hang around after hooking up, usually. Clean up, get dressed, and leave. That's the routine. But they're talking afterwards for a little while, and the subject of fantasies comes up, and while shes fixing her makeup and tying up her hair she asks him what's the one thing he'd go crazy for. he considers it for a little bit but then gets embarrassed because it's a way harder thing to talk about when you're not actively turned on or drunk. They offer each other tiny pieces as they joke about it, starting tame before they eventually just say it out straight. (she calls him princess when she's leaving and he calls her a slut before she shuts the door.)

They ask each other outright. Kinda similar to accidentally figuring it out but they ask each other for it instead of the other person just doing something and stumbling upon it. Maybe Kevin asks her to tell him how good he feels and she asks why, are you into that? and they like. talk through it . Do you like it when I ask you this? Can I call you this? Do you like it when I tell you you're doing such a good job? Talking through sex can be so hot and even hearing the questions out loud sets the imagination off on a fucking marathon. Maybe Allison asks can you choke me? and he asks her how she likes it before agreeing. Do you like it when I hold you like this? Do you want me to spit in your mouth? Do you want to shut the fuck up and listen to what you do to me? It's a much more thorough discussion than them simply going oh, i think the other person has [blank] kink, so i'm just gonna go ahead and do that. It's a request, instead. Both of them knowing what they want and knowing how to ask for it? Yeaaaahhhh

[ovaryacted]

If anybody wondered how I’m doing mentally, this is literally me rn.