#idea was from conversation between me and crumb

[coffeebrownn]

[muchosbesitos]

NO ONE NOTICED— featuring rockstar ex boyfriend suguru geto x fem reader

after a year of breaking up and making multiple songs about you, he starts to forget. isn’t that what he wanted though?

contents: 18+ content, mdni! non canon compliant/au, angst, somewhat desperate geto, ex sex, jerking him off, nipple play, cunnilingus (i will never get tired of munch geto sry), riding (or at least trying to..), backshots, unprotected sex, unresolved feelings, and some aftercare

word count: 6.9k (hehehehe)

author’s note: i’d like to thank beyonce for letting me make this 🥹 inspo for this was from the marias and this :3

Out of all the places that Suguru Geto expected himself to be tonight, your apartment would've been dead last on that list.

In the middle of an ongoing tour.

When he was supposed to be in his hotel room rehearsing the song that he'd promised Ijichi he'd have ready for tonight. A song that a majority of his fans was bound to be expecting.

Though he supposed that maybe Ijichi was the reason that he found himself on your doorstep in the first place. And not the sheer desperation that fueled his actions, that very same desperation that made him get a plane ticket at an absurd price just to see you as soon as possible. To pack up a duffel bag with only a shirt, one pair of pants, and the first pair of shoes he found scattered in his hotel room.

For knocking on your door like a mad man at nearly one in the morning, praying to whatever entity there was above that you wouldn't just shut the door at the first glance of him. Shifting between his feet, waiting to hear for some kind of signal that you were inside. He'd gotten this far, right? That had to count for something.

"Geto, can I talk to you for a second?" Ijichi had waited until all the band members had left, approaching him with an iPad clutched underneath his arm. "Yeah, go ahead," Suguru responded offhandedly, making no effort to stand up just yet, his guitar sitting next to him. All he did was look over at the man with a bored expression on his face, waiting for what he had to say.

Last time Ijichi said he needed to talk to him—he ended up getting called a slut. Well, not precisely in those words. But Ijichi made it a point to get it through Suguru's skull about how hooking up with random groupies on tour wasn't the smartest idea (stuttering over his words when Suguru gave him a sharp glare in response.)

And he had stopped sleeping around with groupies. For the most part, that was. So he wasn't too sure what to expect from this conversation.

Ijichi didn't waste time in getting the iPad from underneath his arm, his fingers frantically typing and swiping across the screen. "I know it's somewhat of a late notice but the fans are somewhat expecting a teaser of a song for the next show," he kept his gaze on the iPad, handing it over to Suguru once he pulled up an array of graphs. An array of graphs that Suguru simply gave a once over to.

"What type of song are they expecting?" Ijichi retracted the iPad once he realized Suguru wouldn't show interest in the same graphs he'd spent hours the night prior coloring, tucking it underneath his arm. "Well, it's been a while since you've written one of those love songs. But please, let me know if you need more time."

"No, it's fine. I'll have it to you by tonight."

Despite how assured Suguru had been in the statement, he found himself prolonging actually having to sit down and work on the song. Cleaning up his space, packing up his bags earlier than usual. Anything that he figured would be the most time consuming. Even going as to cleaning around the hotel room despite that the staff would've done so either way.

It was ridiculous how much effort he took to make sure not an ounce of dust or a food crumb was left by the time he finished. The space was left cleaner than when first stepped foot inside.

Suguru wasn't completely sure why he'd put off the task as long as he did, this type of material came to him naturally. He always used the same muse when it came to writing things like this—you. Even after a year of breaking up, you were the only one he could bring himself to bear his heart out to. He could write another one of these songs, right?

It wasn't like you'd left his mind throughout the past year, anyways. He didn't need to bring himself to lie whenever he composed a new work—everything was a manifestation of what he'd never tell you in person. Choosing instead to express it in his songs. Which he guessed is why his fans ate it up as much as they did. He figured he'd be done before tonight, pulling his notepad out from the depths of his backpack.

But as soon as he went to press his pen down against the notepad, Suguru found himself second guessing every word that he wanted to write down. A feeling that was extremely foreign to him, considering that he'd usually be able to paint a clear picture of you in his head. The last good day you'd had with him before breaking up. But now he was lost. He simply just didn't know.

The color of your eyes? He couldn't remember. The scent of your perfume? Was it cherry? Bergamot? Or neither. What you looked like waking up in the mornings? Suguru could barely decipher your face in his mind, his memory failing to recall the scene that consoled him throughout most nights.

Isn't this what he wanted, though?

To completely forget about you. To just be able to say that the two of you had a failed relationship and move on, like most people probably would've done in his situation. To be able to be with someone else without the constant reminder that they'd never hold a candle to you, that he wouldn't even bother remembering their name by the time the night was over.

To stop having to take shot after shot so that the dull pain in his chest that never seemed to just go away could be replaced with the sharp pounding in his skull.

Except that Suguru didn't want to forget you, he didn't want to ever forget about what the taste of your lips was like after you'd applied a fresh layer of lip gloss was. Suguru didn't want to forget about the person that made him feel safe, that made him feel like he was at home. He didn't ever want to forget just how happy you'd made him, even if it hadn't lasted for long.

He didn't want to find himself missing you so badly was the problem. But no, he didn't want to forget you. At least he realized that now.

After a year, no less.

The more that he looked at the blank piece of paper in front of him, the sheet almost taunting him, the more that Suguru started to realize that this wasn't what he wanted. "Come on," he muttered to himself, the rest of his bandmates next door oblivious to his obvious struggle. He was starting to grow restless, his leg bouncing against the cold granite of the floor. The memory of you was slipping away despite how much he wanted to cling on.

Suguru looked over at the clock, nearly thirty minutes having passed since he'd taken a seat. And all he had on his page were scribbles and a stick figure on the margin of the page. He balled up the sheet of paper after staring down at it for a couple more seconds, a pile of missed paper balls piling just on the edge of the waste bin. Much to Suguru's annoyance. The work that he promised wouldn't be finished by the end of the month at this rate.

Which is what lead him to book a flight without thinking too much of the consequences, Suguru supposed he could deal with those tomorrow. All that he knew was that he needed to see you, to feel you, to remember what it was like being around you again.

And maybe Suguru should've gone with a phone call first, see if you'd even want to have a conversation for more than five seconds. But whatever brain cells that were still alive in that big head of his decided that this was the best idea. Leaving without so much as giving up a heads up to the rest of the band. All he had going for him was some stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, you didn't hate him completely. That you missed him the same way.

Three loud knocks woke you from the nap you were taking on the living room couch, the movie that you'd picked out still droning on in what you had to assume was the climax. You rubbed a hand over your eyes, hoping that you didn't look as tired as you felt before making your way over to the front door. "Who's there?" You'd meant for it to come out more authoritative, though the words came out groggy as you tried to wake yourself up fully.

You made no effort to move, your foot tapping on the wooden floor while you waited for some kind of response. You let out a scoff, rubbing the bridge of your nose before calling out, "Hel-?"

"Don't come out here to hit me with a baseball bat. Just me, I promise," the very same voice that came from trending songs on the radio (that you skipped with a bitter look on your face) was the same one calling out. Sounding almost desperate. Well, the closest thing to desperate. You opened the door to see Suguru standing there, a duffel bag slung on his arm. If you had to guess, you would say that it's all the man was carrying with him.  "Shouldn't you be on tour?"

Suguru shifted awkwardly on your carpet, looking more like a sopping wet dog than the cocky persona you'd grown used to seeing on TV. "I can't explain it, but I just had to see you. Do you mind if I come in?" He threaded carefully, unmoving from his spot. You rubbed your eyes, letting out a sigh before glancing over at the wall clock in the kitchen. "You came here at two in the morning and you can't explain to me why you're here?"

"Exactly."

"And you don't see how that's a little strange?"

Suguru swallowed dryly, looking around before his eyes met yours again. "Please," the word sounded like it was painful to get out, like his pride was getting damaged with every second. Or maybe he wasn't letting his pride come in the way? Whatever the case was, you found yourself getting increasingly curious. "Fine," you relented, moving to the side to let him inside. Suguru almost rushed inside, doing quick work of taking his shoes off.

Before you had the chance to change your mind.

You walked over to the living room, a noticeable gap in between the two of you as you sat on the couch. Blankly staring at the screen, ignoring the obvious elephant. You wanted to approach the situation, you really did, but what exactly were you supposed to say to him? 'How have you been since I broke up with you?' just didn't seem like the perfect conversation starter. If he was as conflicted as you were, you couldn't see it.

From the corner of your eye, you gauged his expression. He almost seemed too composed. Too composed for a man who was just outside your door begging to be let inside. You'd been expecting something more than just having him stare at the anticlimactic movie.

"I missed you, that's why I came here," Suguru spoke up after a couple minutes of sitting in silence, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. His hands twitched to touch you, to feel your skin underneath his fingertips once more. But he refrained, choosing to stuff them in the pockets of his jeans instead. "Everything feels dull without you around. Music doesn't really feel the same, sleeping isn't that easy for me anymore."

The two of you hadn't exactly ended on bad terms, which only served to make these interactions all the much more painful. You still loved him, he still loved you. But the two of you were at completely different points in your life when you made the decision to end things. While Suguru was out traveling in various different cities, you stayed at home. Occasionally going to some of the local shows nearby.

Your relationship was composed a simple phone call every couple days or a collection of text messages, something that you didn't quite mind at first. Rumors started speculating like wildfire on the shows you didn't go to—pictures taken out of context, falsified interviews. And as much as you didn't want it to get to you, it did. Especially when Suguru didn't want to risk bad publicity by denying these claims.

"You can't just come here every time you feel lonely, though. It's not healthy," you responded, keeping your gaze on him. You could see the way his jaw ticked slightly, the only visible reaction that your words had affected him. "You're not hearing me. I'm telling you that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. That even after a year, you're still the one that every song is about."

"And you're not hearing me. I'm telling you that you can't just come over every time you decide that you miss me. I'm trying to move on too."

"What are you trying to move on from when you're the one who left me?" Suguru's voice raised as he spoke, desperately running a hand through his hair again, "You left."

The sheer vulnerability in his voice, the way it seemed like he was willing himself to stop it from cracking made whatever remaining pieces of your heart that still belonged to him clench painfully. "I know. But being here isn't exactly doing you any favors, Suguru."

"Tell me to go home. Tell me that you never want to see me again and I'll go," Suguru spoke up after a couple moments of silence, his gaze boring into you. You wanted to say something, say that this the opposite of what you should be doing. Send him on his way back home. But why couldn't you open your mouth to say those things?

Every brain cell practically yelled at you that this was a bad idea. You knew that you had to send him home—that this would only serve to complicate things between the two of you. But what even was there to complicate? And the silence between the two of you spoke louder than any of the other words you'd said to him tonight. "Stay," all you did was just affirm what was already basically implied, "Just for the night."

"Just for the night, I promise," Suguru brought your hand up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. A silent reassurance between the two of you. Even after all this time, things still felt so.. unfinished. You hadn't been able to move on, either. Even if you'd tried to convince yourself that this was for the best. "But if it's just for the night, then just let me do something stupid."

Every memory that Suguru had been clinging to, trying so desperately to try and remember came rushing to him like a freight train at just having your skin under his fingertips. Every little thing that he'd been having a doubt about came back to the forefront of his mind. And for once, he didn't mind that the only thing in his mind was you. Frankly, he was starting to enjoy it. Wondering why he'd even let you slip away so easily.

Suguru's lips connected with yours in a span of mere seconds, one of his hands coming to rest against your cheek. Holding you as close as he could to himself. "Still taste so good," he whispered against your lips, his teeth gently pulling at your bottom lip. Coaxing you into parting your lips, his tongue slipping inside with little to no resistance. "Just for the night," you said once again, trying to convince yourself.

Trying to convince him in the process. Though you weren't doing a great job at either, your body practically molding into his as his hand went down to your back. Instinctively arching against him as if it were the one place that you belonged. It felt as if Suguru needed to have your lips against his own, needed to engrave the taste of you in his mind again. He didn't dare pull away; your lips seemed more vital than oxygen.

The only time that Suguru pulled away was to have you sit on his lap, your warm cunt resting right against his hardening cock. If the tent in his pants was any indication, anyways. Your hand cupped his cheek, the small contact enough to have him leaning into your touch. Like a man starved. But when you started to shift a little bit too much on his lap, his hands gripped your hips.

"I know I'm the one that put you up here, but we don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I just.. I guess I just wanted to taste you again," Suguru was quick to stop your movements, placing one of his hands above your own. His fingers gently enclosing against your wrist, treating you like a piece of fine china. Treating you the same way he should've done over a year ago.

"I want to, I promise," you assured him, placing your other hand above his own. Amethyst eyes bored into yours, trying to gauge your expression for any trace of uncertainty. For any trace that you didn't want to do this. After finding none, he removed his hand and placed it back on your waist. "Are you sure that you want this?" You questioned. This time it was you analyzing him for any tics or signs he was uncomfortable.

"Yes," he sounded ragged, his fingers drawing small circles against the thin silk material of your nightgown, "More than you know." The last words were spoken as a whisper, almost as if he were thinking out loud. Exposing himself to you in every form. You moved further down, giving yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans. His cock was tenting through his boxers, hitting his stomach when you slipped them down just enough.

The sight was almost pretty to look at. Just like the rest of him. Through the pale moonlight shining in through the window's curtains, you could see a drop of precum dripping along the side of his shaft. The tip an angry shade of red, his cock twitching for whatever attention you would give. "Don't tease me, please. Just want you," Suguru spoke up after you'd been staring at his cock for a couple seconds.

"Don't worry, I won't. But a little patience wouldn't hurt, y'know?" You couldn't help but poke fun at him a bit, a teasing smile on your face as you traced the path of his happy trail. All the way down to where his cock was throbbing to be touched.

"You try being patient when you've been deprived for a yea—"

You wrapped your hand around the base, jerking your fist as you moved up his shaft. "Oh fuck," Suguru let out a huff underneath you, his hips bucking up to meet your hand. "Easy there, let me take care of you," you whispered, keeping one of your hands pressed against his thigh. The muscle flexed with every movement you made, his cheeks flushed as he threw his head back. You started off slow, building up with absolutely no rush.

“So good, so good, don't stop," Suguru all but whined, the man completely unraveling from a couple strokes. Wet sloshes and low groans drowned out the sound of the TV in the background, his cock completely covered in his own precum. "S-Shit, just like that," his words came out as he bit down on his lip, muffling any other moans that threatened to leave him. That was, until an idea came to mind.

Suguru pushed the flimsy straps of your nightgown, your breasts exposed to him in a manner of seconds. He met your gaze when he leaned in, his tongue swirling around your areola before taking it in his mouth. "F-Fuck," a muffled moan escaped from his lips, his other hand going up to your other breast. The combined stimulation of his fingers tweaking your nipple and the small chill in the living room had your nipples hardening in record time.

Suguru dripped like a faucet against your hand, drops of precum helping you glide your hand against his length with ease. Your thumb swirled around his tip, bringing it up to your lips and swirling your tongue around it. The taste of him somewhat salty (presumably from how shitty his diet's gotten through tour), but still bearable. At the sight, Suguru took his hand off your nipple and placed it on your chin.

While the previous kiss had been something out of sheer desperation, this one was much slower. Though just as needy, if not more. His tongue tasting the taste of him and yourself combined, the two of you moving in synchrony. You weren't even sure if his moans were from your hand or the kiss anymore. Probably both. "Missed you, missed you so much," he whispered when you pulled away, holding your face for just a little while longer.

And the moment would've been bittersweet, if he weren't for the slutty moan he let out. "S-Shit, getting close," Suguru let out a louder hiss, his moans starting to become more vocal. You reached down with your other hand, holding his balls in your grasp. You could feel just how heavy they were when you held them in your palm, your fingers rolling over them the way you would dice. "Let go, let go, I'm gonna cum," Suguru all but pleaded, placing his hand on top of yours.

Your hand came to a halt before he came, tapping two of your fingers against his bottom lip. His mind barely registered the action—his cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink and his eyes completely unfocused. His tongue wrapped around your fingers—slick with his precum, before licking them completely clean. "So nasty," you uttered, pulling your fingers away once he was finished.

"Saying that like you don't like it," Suguru clicked his tongue, bringing you into a kiss once more. He really was taking every and opportunity that he could to do it, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. Even if that meant he got a taste of himself in the process. "Let me return the favor, you just sit there and look pretty. Okay?"

Suguru dropped down to his knees in front of you, violet eyes locked on you as he slid his hands across the smooth skin of your legs. His hands were rough, calloused after playing guitar for so long—but his touch still managed to be gentle all the same. "You have no idea how much I've missed you. Missed this," he spoke quietly, his hands coming underneath your silk nightgown. Toying with the hem of your underwear. Teasing you in the same matter you'd done him.

And yet, you did have an idea of how much he missed you. There wasn't a day that had passed by where you hadn't woken up to a drunken ramble from Suguru, where he'd usually express how much he found himself missing you. Voicemails that you deleted right after the first listen—never acknowledging the ever growing collection and pretending as if you'd never received anything in the first place. It was easier.

Suguru started off by your calf, raising up your leg to rest on his shoulder before he started to kiss his way up. His movements were slow, his fingers gently stroking your leg when he did. "So pretty. So perfect. All just for me," he punctuated every sentence with a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, his mouth by your inner thighs. "Just for the night," you reminded, your back already starting to arch into him.

"Yeah, yeah, just for the night," he almost sounded annoyed that you were interrupting him, to say that of all things. Suguru reached your underwear, pressing a kiss on your clothed mound.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, sliding them down with relative ease before letting them fall to the floor. And if he still had the same habit he did when the two of you were dating, you knew that you wouldn't see them again after tonight. His head fit perfectly in between your thighs, the one place where he wouldn't mind staying in permanently.

"I didn't tease you this badly," you let out a small huff, your fingers threading through his hair. Almost wanting to pull him where you needed him most. Almost.

"You're lucky I'm feeling nice."

"Lucky? You're the one on your knees in my apartment."

"And I could easily leave."

“Except for the fact that you won't."

Almost as if proving your point (or wanting you to shut up), Suguru's tongue prodded deeper inside of your cunt. "So pretty when you finally shut up," he mumbled against your folds, messily spitting against them. You could only dig your fingers into his scalp, even if your walls clenched at just the simplest contact. And as if it wasn't enough that your pussy didn't get the memo you were annoyed, he simply laughed. Didn't even wince.

"Fucking slut, of course you'd be into that," you muttered, the sound of his laughter only serving to grate on your nerves even more. "If it makes you feel better, I only like it when you do it," he responded, unable to stop himself from laughing further, "You're the only one that does it like they hate me."

"Wonder why that is," your words died in your tongue when you felt two of his fingers penetrating through the thick layer of muscle, pushing inside your cunt. His tongue swirled around your clit, working in tandem with his fingers. "O-Oh s-shit," your body went completely lax, your hips pushing your cunt all the much more into his mouth. "Not bad for a slut, hm?"

"U-Until you have to open up your mouth to say something," even now, with just how needy you were for him to keep going, you refused to let him have the last word. "Thought you liked my mouth," And the shaky breath that you let out when his tongue started to draw circles on your clit definitely wasn't working in your favor. "J-Just oh fuck, just when you use it for everything else."

Suguru was more of a giver rather than receiver— all that much more evident in the way that he relished in your cunt. Tongue lapping up every single drop of your essence, greedily taking everything you had to give. Every single of drop of alcohol that Suguru had taken a sip of paled in comparison to the sweet taste of your cunt; just one taste was enough to have him drunk off you. Completely intoxicated.

Your back arched up against the couch cushion, your head entangled in his thick hair. He didn't even seem to mind the way you pushed your hips to meet his licks, letting you push his head further in your cunt. He'd gladly die in between your legs if it came down to it if only to get the taste of you ingrained in his taste buds. "Gonna cum, aren't you?" All you could do was nod, your grip on his hair tightening.

"F-Fuck, keep going, keep going," you let out a series of babbles, your toes curling against his shoulders as you approached your orgasm. You could hardly register the fact that he was tracing his name on your clit with the tip of his tongue, only making the connection after the 'g.' By the time he'd finished, your walls clenched around his two fingers before coating them in your release. "That's it, there ya go," Suguru let out a muffled praise, lapping up every drop of your cum.

Some of it dribbling down his mouth and chin when he pulled away. Your grip on his hair loosened, your hands falling by your sides. While you were busy trying to get your chest to stop heaving with every shaky breath that left your lips, Suguru wiped away your release with the back of his thumb.

"Just had to trace your name?"

"I had to, yeah. Don't see why you're complaining if I made you cum. Already more than what anyone after me's probably done," Now you know why you hadn't bothered to contact him earlier. If this was him coming to you, you couldn't imagine how damn cocky he'd be if you were the one to break no contact first. "There hasn't been anyone after you," you muttered reluctantly, sitting up on the couch.

Suguru got up from his spot on the carpet, taking a seat on the couch cushion next to you. And before you had the chance to complain about his bare ass on your expensive couch, he was already pulling you up on his lap again. "No one else could compare?" You looked over to see him biting down on his lip, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Don't laugh at me," you grumbled, smacking the side of his arm. Not hard enough to hurt. Which only led him to start laughing. Loudly.

"Okay, okay, sorry," your glare had him shutting up immediately, his hands running up and down your thighs. "It's kind of cute, really."

You looked down at his cock, looking more intimidating than before now that you were going to ride him. "Don't worry, we'll take our time. There's no rush, okay?" His reassurance was a stark contrast from just a mere seconds before, though it did help you calm down. Somewhat. You hovered above his cock, your hand wrapping around the thick base as you lined it up before slowly starting to sink down.

"There you go, just take it. You've always done it so well," While his words were meant to be reassuring, the sting in between your legs as you tried to take his cock was almost too much to bear. Suguru's fingers came to rest on your hips, the cold silver of his rings a stark sensation to just how warm the rest of his body felt. You sunk down completely, a combination of a hiss and a moan leaving your lips. You felt so full already, the thickness of his cock stretching your walls.

"That's it, that's my girl," you weren't sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him.

Probably both.

You looked down to see that the man was already staring up at you, one of those fingers reaching to wipe some tears from your waterline. Tears you hadn't even noticed until now. "Don't force yourself if you're not ready. Take your time, it's okay," his fingers rubbed small mindless circles on your hips. Your cunt clenched and unclenched around his shaft, a low groan leaving Suguru's lips.

The sting subsided enough after a while, your movements slow as you tried to move. "So fucking tight," Suguru leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes still boring into yours. Your ass hit his thighs each time you sunk down, the loud squelch of your wet cunt and the sound of skin clapping against one another echoing throughout the room. Drowning out whatever last bits of the movie remained, if it was even playing.

Your hips swiveled as you tried to find a steady rhythm, Suguru's breath hitching at the motion. His fingers gripping onto your hips all the much tighter, holding onto you like a lifeline. "So so fucking good," he let out a groan, his head killing forward to bury his face in your neck. Pressing a couple kisses in whatever skin he could reach, leaving spit trails in his wake. He bit down onto your shoulder, sucking on the skin to leave a hickey behind.

"N-Not so obvious," you let out a mix between a hiss and a moan at the feeling of his teeth nipping at your neck. Your nails dug into his shoulders, using them to keep yourself balanced while you tried to establish some sort of pace. "Got other hoes that mind seeing you with them?" Suguru let out a sharp hiss when your walls tightened around his cock, almost making him swallow his words.

"N-No. A-Already told you there's no one else," you let out a shaky laugh, barely managing to get it out as you impaled yourself on his cock, "Not everyone's a w-whore like you."

And he didn't even give you a chance to regret your words before his hips started moving against yours, his cock filling you up faster and deeper in a span of seconds. (The very same thing you'd been trying to do for the past ten minutes.) Your nails dug into the couch cushion in front of you, your head buried into a decorative pillow. "Ah ah, fuck Suguru," your moans came out muffled, your body jerking forward with each thrust.

Whatever delicacy Suguru had granted you at the beginning of your night together was completely stripped away—his hips snapping into yours. His balls smacked against your ass with every thrust, his fingers digging into the flesh. Sure enough to leave indents for a couple days. Like he just needed you to remember this night as much as he did. "Feel how fucking deep I am?" He pressed down on the bulge prodding through your lower tummy, putting some pressure behind it.

You could start to feel him at your throat in this position. Not that you'd ever admit that, of course. "D-Don't think you're deep enough, really," you babbled, the drool dripping from the corner of your lips and the cockdrunk look on your face completely betraying that statement.

Each thrust had you regretting even opening your mouth, each one getting deeper and deeper than the last. Your cunt practically swallowed him in, your walls clenching around his length like a vice. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whined out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Suguru placed a leg up on the couch, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper. "Too deep, too deep," you relented, his thrusts slowing down the slightest bit.

"Thought it was what you wanted," Suguru clicked his tongue, one of his hands going down in between your legs. His pointer finger began to rub small circles against your clit, moving in tandem with his hips. "It's good, it's good, I swear," you practically let out a whine, your hips moving back to meet his. Your ass jiggling with every movement, the sight only serving to entice Suguru even further.

"L-Love you so much. Missed you so bad," And every fiber of your being was telling you to just let his words slide—that it was just a mindless admission made. But you couldn't help the way that both your heart and your pussy clenched afterwards, the latter squeezing around his cock like it never wanted to let go. "Got so tight, you like hearin' me say that?" Suguru whispered by your ear, his chest resting against your sweaty back.

"Like hearing how much I miss you? How much I missed your pussy?" You could practically see the shit eating grin on his face—yet you couldn't exactly bring yourself to care. Not while you were so close to your second orgasm of the night.

All you could do was nod, your whines muffled by the couch cushion underneath. "D-Don't stop, Sugu. Please! Missed your cock!" You babbled, your pussy squelching around his length. Coating it with your arousal, making it slide in with ease. The tip of his cock prodded against your g-spot, your nails digging into the couch. "How much? Come on, tell me."

"So so much," you managed to get out, your chest heaving with every breath that you tried to take. Your walls clenched tighter around him, your cunt snuggling around his cock like a vice. "Gonna c-cum," you managed to get out, the coil in your lower belly tightening and tightening with each of his sloppy thrusts. "That's it, there you go," Suguru continued rubbing at your clit in circles, that coil inside of you snapping. Your walls unclenched, your release coating his length and forming a creamy white ring around his base.

Suguru barely managed to pull out of the tight vice you had his cock in, rope after rope of cum shooting onto your back. "Fuck, fuck," he groaned, the wet sloshing sound of his hand combining his moans as he came all over you. "I'll clean you up in a bit, let me just catch my breath," Suguru laid on top of you, not seeming to mind the fact that his cum was rubbing all on his chest when he did.

The two of you stayed still on the couch for a couple minutes, shaky breaths escaping your lips as you tried to get your breathing under control. A pin dropping could've been heard with how quiet the room was, though it was a comfortable silence this time around. And maybe the two of you still had things to talk about, but you figured that they could be left for another time. Not while the two of you felt so at bliss, at least.

Suguru came back into the living room with one of the hand towels that you kept in the bathroom's bottom right cabinet—walking around your space like he'd never stopped being around. "You did so well for me, so perfect," his voice came out quiet as he swiped the slightly wet towel against your inner thighs, his touch almost as soft. He continued with that gentle touch across your back, wiping away his dry cum off you.

You’d barely registered when he moved the two of you to the bathroom, barely starting to come to your senses. While he was getting a towel, he’d also started up a warm bath for when you were ready.

"Am I finally allowed to ask what you're doing here?" You broke the silence, your back leaning against his chest in a manner that was all too comfortable between the two of you. Like it was the one place where you belonged. "No," Suguru responded almost immediately, squirting some of your body wash onto the washcloth. Moving it slowly across your back, the scent of it combining with whatever candle Suguru raided from your cabinets.

"Am I allowed to ask how long you're planning on staying here, then?" You figured he was bound to break with one of these questions, only to get the same answer. "Turn around for me," was the only thing he said a couple moments later, your back completely lathered up in a mixture of bubbles and soap.

"Do you mind if I stay?" The way that Suguru asked the question reminded you of a sopping wet dog, that same desperation from earlier coming back tenfold. You'd never seen him so compliant in the years that you'd known him—usually he'd just act like he'd owned the place and take up the middle of the bed. "Yeah, just stick to your side of the bed."

After turning off the lights and making sure the doors were locked, you made your way underneath the warm blanket. You hadn't expected for Suguru to take your words so seriously, but at least he'd stuck to the right side of the bed. The sight was almost comical, seeing him comfortable with your collection of stuffed animals scattered around him. You set your phone on your bed stand table, shifting to get comfortable.

And as much as you wanted to fall asleep, your thoughts just didn't seem to shut up. He wouldn't book a flight just to come and see you if all he wanted was pussy, right? No, of course not. If the tabloid articles that came out while he was on tour was anything to go by. And as much as you wanted to bite your tongue, go to sleep as easily as he did, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not without the slightest bit of resolution just yet. "Sugu, you still up?"

You turned to look over at Suguru, almost expecting for him to be still awake. He'd clutched one of your plushies underneath his arm, looking more at peace than he had throughout the night. "Good night," you whispered, pressing a kiss against his cheek before pulling the pumpkin blanket to cover up the two of you. The act almost felt too domestic, much too reminiscent of your past relationship.

Though, you figured you could start worrying about what this all means tomorrow. "Good night," Suguru mumbled, turning to face you. He was more half asleep than anything, the plushie long discarded next to him. It'd probably end up on the floor later in the night. His arm wrapped around your midriff, keeping you pressed against his body. His body intertwined against yours, almost like he had no plans of getting up by any means.

"I love you," was the last thing that you heard before you succumbed to sleep, your body molding against Suguru's almost perfectly.

You'd expected to wake up next to a head full of hair in the pillow next to you, not the same coldness you'd grown accustomed to throughout the last year. Suguru had left without a trace, almost as if he never stepped foot into your place. The only indication that the previous night wasn't a figment of your imagination was the indent of his body left behind on the sheets.

[pickingupmymercedes]

My Venus - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

A MET Gala Special

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Famous!Reader

warnings: fashion world, sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Wrap it before you tap it!!!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: I know it's impossible for anyone to wear the original Venus Dior dress, it's a museum piece and it has been for decades, but it's a fic (and my favorite dress, ever) so let's go with it. Y/n is obviously someone really known in the fashion industry, but I didn't specify how, so it's totally up to you to create a back story.

a/n 2: Kind of a request. I was planning something already but anon gave me amazing ideas, thank horny anon!! Also, smut with a plot, what a shocker for me!!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n toyed with a stray piece of croissant, her gaze flitting from the cityscape outside to Lewis, who was deep in conversation with his stylist.

Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows on the opulent The Mark Hotel’s suite, a golden glow on the remnants of their breakfast. Crumbs danced on the crisp white tablecloth, a playful counterpoint to the elegant silver service glinting in the corner.

Eric, a man perpetually poised on the precipice of tranquility, leaned forward trying the nonchalantly posture as his eyes danced with curiosity. "Come on, Y/n, spill the beans! We’re all vibrating with suppressed curiosity."

Lewis, in is crisp white tee and black joggers, shot Eric a playful glare. "Thanks for that, mate. Subtlety is your strong suit, clearly." He turned to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously, love. The MET is in a few hours, you can tell us."

Y/n, who had mastered her poker face over the last five months of keeping that secret, took a delicate sip of her orange juice. "Let's just say," she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, "it has a very famous sister."

Eric groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh, delightful. Lewis, bro, you're on your own with this one."

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "You're a menace, Y/n." He winked, a shiver running down her spine despite the playful nature of the exchange. But the silence that followed held a different energy, charged with unspoken anticipation.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s something that is going to steal everyone breath away, so maybe it needs a security detail of its own?"

Y/n couldn't help but let a sly smile curve her lips. "Maybe." she teased, leaning in even closer. The scent of his signature cologne, a heady mix of wood and spice, filled her senses. "Maybe it'll have everyone whispering about who dared to wear such a legend."

A low rumble escaped Lewis' chest, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement through her. " An archive, huh?! " He said, his voice husky

Just then, Eric cleared his throat pointedly. "Right, right, all very hush-hush. But remember, Lewis, you have your Burberry fitting this afternoon. We can't have you looking too shabby next to your mystery woman in archives."

Y/n laughed, a light, tinkling sound that filled the room. "Oh, I'm sure Lewis will manage to steal the spotlight anyway."

Lewis winked again, his gaze lingering on her lips. "A competition, isn't it, love?"

Their playful sparring continued through the rest of the lunch, a delicious undercurrent of unspoken attraction running through their every word and glance. As they finished their coffee, the tension in the air thickened, a silent question hanging between them. It was time to leave, to face the world – and the MET Gala – separately.

But Lewis wouldn't let her go without a final flourish. He stood, his gaze holding hers, and offered a hand with a courtly bow. "Until tonight, my fashionista. May the best dresser win."

_______________________________________________________________

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/n stepped out of the limousine, a vision as the cameras flashed like a sudden storm, capturing the first glimpse of her enigmatic beauty. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a palpable wave of awe and recognition as Y/n slowly revealed the legendary Venus dress.

Time seemed to slow. Each step on the red carpet was a carefully choreographed performance, the weight of fashion history settling on her body like a luxurious cloak.

The gown, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery, whispered tales of a bygone era, its every fold a testament to the genius of Christian Dior himself. It clung to her like it had been designed for her. A silent promise of a woman both powerful and breathtakingly beautiful.

Y/n held her head high, a serene and honest smile playing on her lips. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a thrill coursed through her veins. This wasn't just another red carpet.

Lewis, waiting further down the carpet, watched his breath hitch as she came into view. Initially stunned speechless, his jaw dropped in a way that sent the internet into a frenzy.

Here was the woman he knew, the one who matched his every playful jab with witty retorts, transformed into a goddess. He felt a surge of pride, a possessiveness that went beyond what he had felt before with people looking at her.

This was Y/n, his Y/n, stealing the spotlight of the most known fashion event with an audacity as breathtaking as the gown itself.

It was a declaration, a playful rebellion against expectations, most of them that she had created for herself, as she had stablished her style as the non conformative. Still, in The Garden of Time that was the MET, she was bringing one the most known and iconic flowers back to life.

Microphones were being thrusted in her face, a flurry of questions buzzed around her like excited bees, photographers going maniac at the sight of a dress that had been at an exposition for decades months prior being worn.

"Y/n, this is absolutely iconic! How did you manage to borrow this historical piece?" a seasoned entertainment reporter gushed.

Y/n, ever the diplomat, offered a practiced smile. "Let's just say it took a lot of convincing," she replied, the truth a delightful secret she'd keep to herself. "But I believe it was worth the effort."

"Do you feel any pressure wearing such a significant piece of fashion history?" another reporter chimed in.

An understanding glint sparked in Y/n's eyes. "It's a tremendous honour. But pressure is a luxury I don't have time for tonight. It's all about celebrating art, fashion and Christian Dior himself.” Her wit drew laughter and appreciative nods from the crowd, creating a true vision of a woman stunning and intelligent, truly worthy of the Venus.

As Lewis answered his own fielding questions about his Burberry ensemble, he couldn't help but steal glances at her. Her confidence radiated outwards, a magnetic force that drew everyone's attention. He felt a flicker of pride, ever so slightly tinged with a possessiveness that made him want to shout to the world, 'This is my woman.'

"Lewis," a young reporter, eyes wide with admiration, interjected, "What are your thoughts on Y/n's stunning outfit?"

Lewis, ever the charmer, took a playful dig. "Well, let's just say" he drawled, mirroring her earlier cryptic response, "It was worthy of the months of secrecy. She awed everyone as much as she awes me."

As Y/n went up the stairs she found Lewis at the entrance waiting for her, his eyes boring wholes onto her skin. Lewis leaned close, a hand reaching for hers as his voice a huskily murmured "You're incredible, Y/n," his eyes lingering on her "Absolutely breathtaking, love."

Y/n, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her exposed skin, a secret smile played on her lips. There was a thrill in knowing she had surprised him, in seeing the awe and possessiveness flicker in his eyes.

"You know …” she teased, resting her hands on his shoulders as he reached for her waist, a sequence of flashes going off as they showed affection "This was all about making a statement”.

The throng of bodies inside the museum buzzed with an electric energy. As they navigated the crowded halls, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way heads turned their way. Whispers and glances followed them like a second skin.

Lewis, sensing her amusement, leaned in with a smirk. "Enjoying the attention, love?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n deadpanned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "It's not every day I get to feel like a museum exhibit myself."

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, you are a work of art yourself. But you’re also wearing one."

Suddenly, a whirlwind of hair materialized beside them. Zendaya, ever the fashion icon, flashed a dazzling smile. "Y/n, girl! That dress. How?!”

Before Y/n could reply, Zendaya dragged her towards the main exhibition, where Venus’ sister dress – Junon – was center piece, photographers already positioned for the Dior reunion.

Lewis, hovered nearby, a playful smile on his face. Even with the constant interruptions, his gaze never strayed far from Y/n.

As she managed to escape the scene, Y/n couldn't help but notice Lewis's gaze burning into her. "You know," she said, meeting his stare with a smirk, "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Can't blame a guy for appreciating a masterpiece, can you?" he countered, his voice a husky murmur.

Just as Y/n leaned in to retort, a gaggle of socialites descended upon them. Throughout the pleasantries, Y/n couldn't ignore the heated glances Lewis kept throwing her way. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of her shoulders, and a playful glint in his eyes hinted at something more than mere admiration.

Finally, as the speeches began and everyone went to their seats, Lewis leaned in close, pulling her towards his side, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. "They can all look, love." his eyes holding hers. "But you're mine."

The speeches droned on, a monotonous hum that Y/n barely registered. Her focus was solely on Lewis, his hand possessively resting on her hand on her lap. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a stark contrast to the cool of the dress against her skin.

As the formalities dragged on, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Every brush of their bodies, every stolen glance, fueled a fire that threatened to consume them.

"This is torture," he breathed, his breath tickling a sensitive spot on her neck. "All I want is..." he trailed off, his eyes dropping suggestively to the exposed skin of her chest.

Y/n raised an eyebrown, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension in her body language. "Finish that sentence, Lewis" she purred, her voice barely a whisper.

“You, alone." he finished, his voice rough with desire. "Somewhere I don’t need to share."

His hand moved up to her shoulders. His fingers finally grazing the edge of the dress, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/n, emboldened by the setting and the audacity of the dress itself, met his gaze with a playful smile.

"There might be a deserted exhibit around the corner," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "One filled with creatures long extinct."

A wicked grin spread across Lewis's face. "Hm…" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. Every glance from him felt like a branding iron, searing the memory of him onto her skin.

When the event finally came to its end, they navigated the crowd, Lewis's possessiveness evident in the way he kept guiding her by the small of her back, a silent declaration. Every so often, his eyes would flick to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

They managed to get by the crowds unusually quickly, ushered greetings and nods a clear sign everyone wanted out. But, as they approached the exit, a familiar face beamed at them. Stella McCartney, a vision of elegance in her silver dress, rushed forward to greet Y/n.

"Y/n, you look absolutely phenomenal!" Stella exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/n in a warm embrace. "That dress! It's absolutely breathtaking."

Y/n put out a smile. "Thank you, Stella. It was an honor to wear such a piece of history." While Stella gushed about the intricacies of the dress, Lewis tried to exchange a knowing look with Y/n.

The unspoken desire simmering between them was palpable, an energy that crackled in the space between them. Just then, a low chuckle caught Y/n's ear. Gayle King, stood nearby, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Lewis" she started, her voice smooth as silk, "I haven't seen you this speechless in years. Y/n, you've absolutely stolen the show."

Lewis, ever the charmer, offered her a playful smile. " You know Y/n, she has a knack for making an entrance."

Gayle, unfazed by his attempt at deflection, turned to Y/n, her gaze sharp and knowing. "You two," she said, linking her arm in Y/n's, "must tell me all about this later. That dress…and the look on Lewis's face… well, that was priceless”

Y/n, her cheeks burning, couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis. His gaze met hers, a silent conversation passing between them. They both knew Gayle was right, and that everyone had probably also seen his gaze.

As they reached the exit, Gayle pulled Y/n to the side, their voices dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Keep doing whatever you're doing, Y/n" Gayle said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaning in even closer "That boy is absolutely smitten.”

Y/n couldn't help but let out a soft laugh "Thanks, Gayle" she whispered back. With a final hug, Gayle retreated to her own car, leaving Y/n and Lewis to get into theirs. The tension between them thick, a charged silence that spoke volumes as Lewis held open the car door for her.

He slid into the car beside her, wasting no time in letting his hand roam up under the dress, reaching her thighs in no time. A devilish grin spreading across his face, leaned in close. "She's right, love" he murmured, his voice husky. "You've got me completely wrapped around your fingers."

The heat of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. He caressed the soft skin, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to her hips. Y/n, unable to contain a shiver, bit her lip. "Lew" she breathed, her voice laced with a playful warning. "Careful now. We're not exactly alone."

He chuckled but continued his exploration, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of her dress. The driver, through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but steal a glance. Y/n, catching a glimpse of his reflection, couldn't help but feel a thrill of exhibitionism mixed with a playful desire to tease Lewis further.

As Lewis's hand continued its ascent, his fingers brushed against a smooth, unexpected surface. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. A beat of silence hung in the air before it dawned on him. No underwear.

"Couldn't risk an underwear line ruining this moment" her voice laced with a playful challenge. The audacity of her statement, coupled with the realization, made his breath hitch in his throat, raw desire clouding his eyes.

He pulled his hand back abruptly, a silent promise hanging in the air. The confined space crackling with unspoken desire.

As Y/n stole a glance at him, her heart pounded in her chest. He was trying to control himself, a clear struggle evident in the way he held his breath and clenched his jaw. The bulge in his trousers, who had been previously concealed by his trench coat, was now a very visible sign to his arousal.

"Not long until we get back, Love" Lewis finally managed, his voice husky with frustration. He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his braids in a frustrated gesture. Y/n, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, let out a low chuckle.

Relief washed over both of them as they pulled into the hotel. A small army materialized around them. Her team, ever-efficient, whisked them towards her suite, their focus solely on getting her out of the Venus dress.

Throughout the undressing, Lewis hovered on the periphery, his eyes laser-focused on Y/n. He watched with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Every so often, he would discreetly lick his lips, a gesture that spoke volumes of his pent-up desire.

The process was a delicate ballet – a team of stylists unhooking intricate clasps, another carefully lowering the billowing skirt. Finally, wrapped in a plush towel, Y/n stood alone with Lewis, her team discreetly melting away, a knowing smile playing on their lips.

Lewis crossed the room in two long strides, the heat of anticipation crackling in the air between them. His hand reached out, almost hesitantly, to brush a strand of her now loosened hair. The touch, seemingly casual, sent a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all evening.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Beautiful, captivating, and all mine. Only mine."

His words hung in the air like a promise, the most possessive claim she had ever heard from him. They resonated deep within her, stirring something primal. As her heart pounded in her chest, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, seeking solace and desire in his embrace.

"All yours," she whispered, her voice thick with longing. Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and raw emotion. In that moment, the playful banter of the night melted away, replaced by a raw hunger that neither could – or wanted – to deny.

Each second ticked by like a whisper of urgency. They had only about twenty minutes before they were due to leave for the after-party. With practiced efficiency born of desire, she threw the towel onto the bed, leaving herself bare before him, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

Lewis's eyes roamed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as she reached down to undress him from his pants. "Don't have time for that, love," he murmured, his hands stopping hers with a swift motion.

With a sudden shift of momentum, he flipped her, his hands tracing over her tummy as he left a trail of kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, her breath hitching with every touch of his lips against her skin.

His hands ventured lower with each kiss, until they reached her folds, his touch igniting a primal hunger within her. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers delved into her depths, drawing out her arousal with a skillful touch that left her trembling with desire.

Feeling the urgency of their fleeting moments, she flipped around, dropping to her knees to palm him through his boxers. The outline of his thick arousal was already prominent, and she freed it eagerly, the velvet hardness filling her hands. With practiced skill, she teased him, eliciting a delicious hiss of pleasure as she took him into her mouth, savoring the taste of him.

But time was slipping away and they both knew it. Five minutes had already slipped by, according to the bedside clock. His hands gripped her chin, pulling her up "I promise later we can take our time, but I need your pussy right now," he breathed, urgency lacing his words with a desperate plea.

With a hungry nod, she positioned herself, elbows resting on the armchair, presenting herself to him with a silent invitation. The tip of his arousal teased her entrance, collecting her slickness before he plunged into her with a single, deep thrust. A sharp cry escaped her lips as he bottomed out, his hands soothing the skin of her hips as he waited for her signal to move.

"Lew" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for release. His fingers circled her clit, igniting a fire within her as he began to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of oblivion.

It didn't take long before she was panting, her body trembling with the force of her climax. Lewis held her close, whispering words of encouragement as she rode the wave of ecstasy, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared passion.

As she steadied herself, he resumed his frenzied thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself inside her, holding her tightly as their bodies trembled with shared pleasure, the world fading away into a haze of ecstasy.

When he pulled out, she turned into his embrace, cupping his face in her hands as she gazed into his eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. "They can look all they want, but you're the one here," she declared, pulling him into a passionate kiss, sealing their bond with a promise of devotion and desire.

His hands left her only briefly to clean her up before dressing himself, his movements slow and deliberate as he savored the lingering moments of what had just happened.

As he emerged in his Dior attire, abs on full display, Y/n's eyes sparkled, a playful challenge in her voice. "Guess, you're the one drawing all the attention now," she teased as she admired him.

Lewis chuckled, his gaze lingering on her in the black Dior mini. "You don't look too bad yourself, love," he countered, his voice a low rumble.

He pulled her close, his hand trailing down her back. "But trust me," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "tonight, the only eyes I care about are yours."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: An evening in the Wheeler basement reveals what you've been trying to deny about your best friend, and longtime crush, Eddie.

WC: 827

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, unrequited love, mention of sex. You've been warned.

--

Eddie “Speak First, Think Later” Munson struck again. 

A rainy spring Saturday had the Hellfire Club gathered for an impromptu meeting in the Wheeler basement. Eddie whipped out a campaign that he’d been saving, somehow just as detail-rich as the ones he’d meticulously prepared for regular Friday sessions. It had gone on for hours until Dustin, the last player standing, rolled to cast a fireball and was met with utter failure. 

“Damn, and here I thought this was one of my weaker ones.” Eddie popped a sour cream and onion chip in his mouth, crunching down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’m unstoppable. Impenetrable. Invincible, even.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Gareth muttered, but there was no missing his own smile as he added, “tell that to Chrissy Cunningham.”

Chrissy Cunningham? Your stomach dropped at the mention of her name. You’d noticed him glancing over at her table in the cafeteria, and saw him at her locker a few times, but that didn’t mean…

Jeff snorted. “He can’t tell her anything without looking like a total moron. ‘H-Hey, Chrissy. Nice hair, um, thing.’” 

“I do not sound like that, asshole.”

“Dude, you said that exact sentence in algebra yesterday. It was a direct quote.”

Your throat was scratchy from shouting during the game, but you cleared it and forced yourself to speak. “What’s going on with Chrissy?”

Grant ignored the glare that Eddie preemptively gave the rest of the guys. “Our fearless leader is smitten with the Queen of Hawkins High,” he teased. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas all underscored his statement with obnoxious kissy noises. 

“Shut up!” Eddie yelled, but it only further spurred them on. 

“Don’t be shy,” Dustin said through his laughter. “Everyone knows you loooooove her!”

You didn’t. Okay, maybe a part of you did, but your optimism—or perhaps naivety—dismissed the idea. Because if he loved Chrissy, that meant he didn’t love you. It meant the long hugs and arms slung over your shoulder were platonic. That the deep conversations late into the night were simply between friends. 

“I don’t love her,” Eddie retorted, his pinkening cheeks giving him away. “I just think she’s cute, okay?”

“Cute?” Lucas said. He rolled his eyes. “Puppies are cute. Kittens are cute. Babies are—”

“Fine, I think she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life!” Eddie snapped, but a soft smile tugged at the ends of his lips. “Are you idiots happy now?”

The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life. In his life. 

Happy? You were the farthest thing from happy. 

Your eyes blurred with tears, blinking them back and timing a sniffle with the crinkling of the chip bag as Mike passed it to Lucas. If you could pull yourself together, you could excuse yourself before you broke down completely. 

“Dude.” Jeff looked at Eddie, pulling his gaze to you despite your reluctance to even glance his way. “She’s a girl.”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie chuckled, snagging his Mountain Dew can from the snack table and taking an extended swig. “It’s not like I’m gonna have sex with my best friend, though.”

Gareth feigned a pout. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not having sex with you either.”

You watched as Eddie finished his soda, crushing the can in his fist and tossing it at the drummer’s curly mop of hair. 

It’s not like I’m gonna have sex with my best friend. 

Not even a pause. Not a moment of consideration. Nothing close to the movie-esque scene where the boy realized that the girl of his dreams had been right in front of him the whole time. 

Mustering up a half-smile, you pushed yourself off of the couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’m pretty beat.”

Beat. Broken. Destroyed. Shattered. 

Eddie sat up, brushing Lays crumbs onto his jeans and leaving them shiny with oily residue. “Let me drive you,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “N-No, I wanna walk.” 

“It’s raining,” he protested. 

“It’s fine.”

That may have been the first time you’d declined the chance to spend time alone with him. You lived for the days you’d climb into the passenger seat of his van after Hellfire, resting your head against the window as it vibrated from the bass of the radio speakers. 

Eddie shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, turning his attention back to the guys. 

He didn’t come after you. You heard his laughter echoing around the basement as you ascended the stairs, barely managing to close the door before you burst into tears. 

Everything you wanted Eddie to feel for you, he felt for Chrissy. The thought of watching his eyes follow her around the cafeteria on Monday roiled a sickness within you. 

You wished you’d never showed up to the Wheelers’ today. Although it wouldn’t have changed Eddie’s love for Chrissy—or his lack of love for you—at least you could continue pretending that there was hope. 

Now, you had nothing but a broken heart.  

--

[rainybubbles]

What 141 would do if you're experiencing self-doubt ?

Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

SIMON : 

-"I am not enough; I will never be, and you know it. You know it because, in a crowd, your gaze wanders elsewhere. Your fingers barely brush against me, and you only utter kind words without ever mentioning my beauty. I will never be like the others; I can never fill your heart. I am just a silhouette in your life, while I constantly dream of being the leading role in our film. But it’s just a film, an illusion, and I can’t be content with that."

-Out of breath, they stood before him, tears in their eyes. Their exhausted eyes let every tear fall, their breathing was labored.

-He stood motionless, rigid, unable to move, to utter a word.

-This silence was like a knife, silently cutting the bond between them, answering the unspoken with more silence.

-"I see," they murmured as they turned to leave.

-But their momentum was interrupted by his hand firmly gripping their wrist. He stood there.

-"Do you honestly think you can compare yourself to the others?" he murmured.

-"Don’t hit where it hurts, I—"

-"Do you honestly think you can compare yourself when your smile makes me forget the blood I shed? The souls screaming in my ears. When each of your breaths is a wave of desire I struggle to restrain, while for ten years, I struggled to feel even lust? When your voice, your ambitions are the only things I think about. You haunt me. I’ve tried day and night to flee from you, to distance myself, to keep you as an acquaintance, but no matter my efforts, I found myself at your feet begging for a crumb of your smile. Do you honestly think I see you like the others?"

-Stunned, they didn’t know how to respond.

-"Simon."

"I can’t, I didn’t want to. Not yet. I can’t afford to have people to lose, but you’re here, and I find myself unable to let another take your heart."

"Then take it."

Hesitant, the soldier could see his mother, Beth, his brother, his nephew. Having someone meant being able to lose them. Having only his life meant a gentle, painless death.

-But between putting them in danger or losing them, Simon’s heart had made its choice.

-He wouldn’t risk finding them one day dead in his living room, killed by an enemy. He couldn’t. Yet the idea of having them in their living room, their house, seemed so sweet.

"It’s not that simple."

"Simon, please. Be clear, you can’t—"

His hands were on their face, wiping away each tear he had caused.

"Look at us, Simon," they murmured.

Their breaths close, the heat rising, their gazes shifted from one to the other, settling on their lips. And everything happened quickly. A moment, a second changing everything. A kiss.

"You are enough," he murmured after the first kiss.

But it wasn’t enough; starving, his heart burning, Simon kissed them again and again.

Feeling their body under his hands, their much-desired lips on his. Their breath, their scent, their sounds, their hair, everything was them, and he could only get intoxicated again and again.

They were an addiction.

"I can’t get enough of you."

"Neither can I. Don’t leave me again, Simon."

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

They were enough, more than that, they were too good for him. But Simon was a selfish man, and if they allowed him, he would stay in their affections as long as they let him.

PRICE : 

(Tall reader implied in this one.)

"Am I... pathetic, John? Not enough?"

On a summer evening at the base, which was deserted due to the nice weather and the open bar, two colleagues smoked outside.

-The conversation had shifted from light banter to work, and now, as dawn approached, alcohol was loosening their tongues, steering them towards deeper topics.

"Pathetic?" John repeated.

"Yes."

They stubbed out their cigarette abruptly.

"Sorry, it sounds childish. I'm complaining about my life when we were talking about something else. I should go to bed, I—"

They were interrupted by his gaze.

"No, I'm listening."

They sat back down, almost timidly.

"Have you been with people, John?"

"I've had my share of lovers, yes."

"Everyone has, at our age, right?"

"I guess."

"Not me."

John observed their in silence, sensing their hesitation.

"My parents say it's pathetic, being only good at writing reports, not even able to seduce soldiers in a barracks. That my ugliness, my height, are horrible traits they can hardly stand to see at each meeting. And I know they're wrong, but when I hear stories of kisses, love letters, children, marriages... I can't help but wonder: what's wrong with me? Why... why have I never felt that desire, why has no one ever had it for me? Am I... pathetic?"

John removed his cigar from his lips, his eyebrows furrowed. He stood up without a word.

They guessed he was bored by their words, their problems, and regretted having said too much.

But John knelt in front of them.

"You'd have to be very cruel to think a person like you is pathetic. If you are, then I'm just a pathetic man who desires a pathetic person."

"John..."

"Not feeling desire, not having loved, kissed, or slept with someone at our age shouldn't be a shame. Love isn't a race, and if you start in your thirties, forties, or fifties, so be it. You should never feel any pressure or degradation about it. Because a man, a lover, a good one at least, will never define you. You are a wonderful person who may choose to have someone in their life, or not. It’s optional."

"It’s hard."

"I know."

On his knees, he reached out to cover their hand with his.

"You are not pathetic. Your laughter at Simon's awful jokes, that little tic after writing a report when you click your tongue, your height towering over even Johnny... I live for that. Every morning on this base, I wish to give you a report I spent too many hours falsifying just so we can correct the errors together, so I can sit next to you and feel your leg brush against mine, your scent filling my clothes, or leave my silly hat on your head in winter. I want you to see me, as I see you. Because if you did, you'd never dare, never even think to use the word 'pathetic' to describe yourself."

"John..."

"I'm not asking for anything. I know your desire now, and I guess I don't meet your expectations, but please, don't let this define you."

Slowly, he stood up, his hand leaving theirs.

"Why?" they asked, interrupting his walk.

"Why what?"

"Why tell me this when you... you know I could never have that physical desire for you?"

"Because my desire isn't just sexual, I want all of you. A life without sex doesn't bother me, not if I can see your smile every morning, not if I can fix a stupid sink we bought together, not if I can admire those lines on your face every day."

"You're an idiot."

"So it seems."

Wiping their tears, they blew their nose. With a determined step, they joined him.

"Where are we going?"

"Where?" he asked

"Well, a date should be somewhere nice, right?"

A smile appeared on his face.

"I know a place," he murmured.

"Let's go."

Hand in hand, the dawn rose on a new relationship at the base.

SOAP : 

— Wait, talk to me, we can fix this, he said, running after you into the bathroom.

— It’s not a problem, Johnny. It’s not a disagreement, you said, sitting on the floor.

— What is it then?

— ME! I’m... I’m completely useless. Seriously, all through this party, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even drink. I was paralyzed by a panic attack, standing there like a statue while my friends wanted to celebrate. I ruined their moment, I... I’m not worth it. Every time they want to hang out, they look for uncrowded places because of me. They delay our meetings to make sure I don’t faint on public transport. They try to guess if today’s a good day for me before even suggesting anything. I’m a burden to them. And I hate myself for that. I hate that I can’t talk to people without overthinking, I hate that I faint in crowds, I can’t go outside when I want to, I can’t call people, I can’t even tell stories. Because I don’t have any; I’m stuck in a boring life with anxiety slowly eating me away.

— Is that what you think? he whispered. That you’re not worth it?

— Yes, you sobbed softly. Because it’s the truth.

— Do you think your friends see you as a burden? That they hang out with you because they have to?

— Yes.

— No. They hang out with you, they take your anxiety into account, they plan around your feelings because they want to. They wish they could see you every day because you’re a wonderful person, you’re a delight to be around. They know they can’t always see you, so they take care of you. I... take care of you. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished to see you every day, to go out with you every day. But I love you too much to impose my desires on your anxiety. We love you, we do all this because we care about you. Tonight was a mistake.

— A mistake?

— We were supposed to be five, but Thomas’s friend invited more people, and it turned into a big party. We couldn’t warn you in time.

— So...

— We wanted you there, we wanted to celebrate with you, with our friends. Not with random drunk people.

— You love talking to drunk people.

— I love talking to people, period.

— I feel stupid.

— Then I’ll be stupid with you, scoot over.

— John, there’s no room to sit, we’ll be stuck in the bathtub.

— So?

He settled in. The two of you tangled up in an empty bathtub, a laugh escaped your lips.

— You’re ridiculous.

— I’m whatever you want me to be.

— Even bald?

— I admit, I won’t touch my hair.

— ...Do you... do you really want to see me more often?

— Yes. But I know how you... how you need your space after socializing.

— You sound like a personal development book.

— Maybe it’s from "Introvert’s Guide", I admit.

A sigh escaped, a smile forming.

— Thank you, John.

— No problem.

— You... you could come to my place, maybe.

— You-

— So we can see each other... more. More than just outside.

— Okay.

Slipping a key into his pocket, John could only take your hand and gently caress it.

— You deserve it, this happiness , believe me.

— I’ll try, you whispered.

KYLE : 

The silence lingered at the end of the line.

"You're supposed to answer after a “how are yo”, you know?" Kyle said.

Usually they would have said “yes I’m fine.”

But that wasn't the case. It never had been. But they had always managed to lie, to downplay their problems. Yet their trembling lips betrayed them, letting slip the truth.

"That's not the case."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, I was catching up."

Idiot. Kyle Garrick was nothing if not a stubborn and obstinate man.

"You think I'm going to buy that?"

"Kyle, I'm not sure that..."

"You just admitted what I've been waiting for months to hear. I'm not letting go."

"You were waiting?"

"Do you really think I believed you? You... you talked about your neighbor for hours to avoid my questions, please, just answer me."

"Have you ever wondered why I always seemed to mess everything up?"

"You..."

"I wonder every day. My parents barely talk to me, I did an art degree to avoid finishing my bachelor's and being in debt, I started a history degree only to end up cleaning after my graduation, unable to find a teaching position. I lost my apartment, my dog, my first love, and my second. And my college friends. And today, my job, and they all say the same thing, it's my fault. So Kyle, tell me, did I ruin your life too?"

The sound of the line crackled.

"No."

"You can't lie, I..."

"Your parents are disappointed that their prodigy of a child didn't do what THEY wanted for you. Your art school was filled with artists copying from the internet. Teaching positions come and go every year. You're just young, and as for your friends, they were nothing but hypocrites, taking advantage of your notes and then leaving. Your exes had their flaws and projected them onto you. They're all idiots if they think you're the bane of their existence, because now, they must realize how much you helped them. You mattered. You matter."

"Kyle."

"I wouldn't know who to call, who to tell the stupid things I see here to forget if you weren't there. I know you ask me to describe the scenery in each of my calls so I don't remember my missions, that you don't talk about my work to give me a bubble. And it matters to me, you matter to me enormously."

"I'm just trying to... help you."

"Then let me help you in return. Why don't you... why don't you come to my apartment?"

"Kyle, what?"

"You don't have a job anymore, do you? Rent is expensive and you have nothing holding you back. Come to England. My parents know a university, you could work there as a teaching assistant or find something else."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve better. I don't want to play the savior, I... it's selfish, but knowing that when I come back, I'll find you in my apartment is a selfish wish. I can't just settle for calls anymore, I want to hear your voice every morning."

"As friends?"

"No."

"I see."

"But if that's how you see us, then I'll respect your choice and my offer will always stand."

"I can't ask you to let me move in with you if I know that."

"I'll do anything for you."

"You're stubborn."

"Yes."

"I... I'll think about it."

"You haven't given me an answer."

"Do I really need to?"

"No. I... damn it, I wish I could kiss you."

"You'll have to wait until you come back."

"I can't wait."

If you want more : masterlist.

[leighsartworks216]

Water in the Sink

Zayne x gn!Reader

Had this idea dancing in my head since I used the quality time feature with Zayne to do my dishes lol Shitty title cuz I couldn't think of anything else to name it

Warnings: medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 565

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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The dish soap dries out your hands as you scrub the saturated sponge on the face of the plate. You could still decipher the sauce and crumbs from the dinner Zayne prepared tonight. And because he cooked, it was your duty to tend to the dishes.

Except, Zayne was never one to leave a job alone if he knew he could speed up the process.

Once you’re sure the plate has been thoroughly cleaned, you rinse the suds off and pass it over to your husband. He is fully focused on the task, face reminiscent of when he performs delicate surgeries. You stop yourself before you can tease him about how the operation is going on the patient, no matter how tempting it is.

The rest of the apartment is quiet. Calm. The night is still new, the last rays of the sun retreating, leaving golden tendrils of warmth as a loving goodnight on your faces. One beam reflected off Zayne’s glasses, and he shifted to the side to get it out of his eye. Dried plates, bowls and utensils clink together as he stacks them neatly to be put away. It’s only covered up by the splash of water as you dunk the final bowl beneath the surface, followed by the soft trickle of water as you pour it out.

You’re about to hand it off to him when his ringtone breaks the quiet air.

He dries his hands quickly and retrieves his phone from his pocket, answering without bothering to glance at the caller ID. The ringtone already announced who it would be. He steps away from the counter and you take his spot, using the towel to dry the bowl while keeping an ear on the conversation.

“What have you tried to stabilize with so far?”

You stack the bowl inside the other.

“Push sedation through IV, if you can. Increase after 4 minutes if there’s no signs of change.”

You turn to lean against the counter, watching Zayne work on the spot to solve the problem presented to him.

“Call Dr. Greyson to assist. Once the patient is stabilized, prep for surgery. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

He hangs up the phone and slips it into his pocket. The intense look on his face doesn’t disappear. “I have to go to the hospital. There’s been an emergency.” You follow him out of the kitchen as he speeds off to the front door for his coat and shoes.

“Do you need me to take you?” you ask. “You’ll get there faster on my bike.”

You can tell from the glance he sends your way that he wants to refuse. You’d been in the field all day, using said bike to rush from scene to scene. All throughout dinner, he could see the exhaustion of work beginning to settle in your muscles, the stiff movements you took as you washed the dishes in an attempt not to aggravate any bruises.

But if getting there 5 minutes sooner is the difference between losing his patient or saving their life, there’s no point in arguing. He nods.

You quickly shove your boots on and grab your helmet. Zayne holds the door open for you, passing you your jacket and keys as you slip outside. You’re speeding away from your apartment toward the hospital in under a minute.

The water in the sink grows cold.

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Right here? Right now? | Jack Hughes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! Language, breeding kinks, unprotected, alcohol.

Summary: Jack has this incredible idea to have some extra fun at Jesper’s house at a party.

A:N- idk if this has been done, but I thought it was fun!!! Lmk if you’ve seen something similar (sorry)

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Today is December 31, New Year’s Eve. Jesper decided to throw a party to celebrate with the team. Some of us couldn’t make it, but we did party all night. Most of the couples came, and Nico, Luke, and John came as solos.

“We should hit body shots!” Nico insists, obviously I back away from the conversation. I’m wearing a red lacy thong underneath my black leggings, I have a matching bralette lying in between my skin and Jack’s grey navy hoodie. Not to mention the fact I’m like the most insecure person on the room.

I step back into the couch that sits in Nicole’s and Bratter’s living room. I lay on my back lying flat across a piece of the white couch. “You gonna try?” John walks over to me. He sets his cup of beer onto the coffee table in the middle of the sitting area. He scooches over to me and lets me rest my head on his lap.

“No. I’m really tired.” I announce as I rest my hands and let John play with my hair. “You coming baby?” Jack walks over to us.

“no. I’m exhausted from our day today.” I responded to jacks question.

John and I have known eachother from our days in Pittsburg. I’ve followed him down to Jersey, he’s like a brother to me.

~

If he hurts you, y/n, I’ll make sure he’ll know not to do it again.

~

I mean that’s what John said the first time I told him that Jack and I are going out.

“Please! I want to body shot. I don’t what to do it with Nico, or Luke. Sure as hell not John.” Jack says as he points around the kitchen towards the guys. John picks my head up and walks over to the group of boys.

“Now it’s just you and me.” Jack whined. “You can say it. Just tell me if you don’t want to do it. Just letting you know, it’s gonna look wierd if we don’t do it.” Jack jolts at me. I sit up letting his head resting on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around his back and I lift my legs to cross them over his legs.

I kiss jacks cheek, “well if it makes you happy, I can get up there and do it.” I let go of jacks body and start over to the counter.

I hope ontop of the cold granite and lay flat on my back. Jack walks over and pushes through the crowd and rolls down my leggings. He reveals my belly button and he sets a small lemon ontop of my belly, he pushed my top up until you can see my bra.

Luke hands him a bag of leftover crushed jolly rancher mixed with sour patch kids smashed together. Jack sprinkled a little bit in between my breast. My cleavage slips jacks fingers inside letting him spread a bit. He sets a fireball in my mouth and he backs up, looking at his masterpiece from afar.

The party goes silent as people turn down the music and record. “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5-“

The count down starts for the new year! Jack walks up to me. He rolls his sleeves up from his own hoodie and sets his hat down. “-3-2-“

Jack takes the small lemon from my bellybutton and squeezes it into his mouth. He licks my abdomen from any crumbs that spilt on my torso. His warm wet tounge slips between my breasts and he takes all of the candy onto his tounge. The sourness hits him as he clings to me shoulder. With no hands, Jack takes the fireball from my mouth and takes the shot into his own.

He grabs me to pull me up. He walks over to where he set his beer last. He sips on his cooled drink and hands it to Nico.

“Yeah, goodluck trying tonight! She’s not letting you get anywhere near her. Especially at Bratters house.” Nico chirps at Jack. Jack smiles and walks away.

“I know, and I still am gonna try.” Jack holds his eye contact on my boobs as I pull down my hoodie from our fun event.

I laugh out, maybe I should let him try to buy me in. “Okay, go ahead.” I say and I hold jacks chin, and pull his mouth to my ear letting him whisper into me. He kisses my check before starting.

“I got like really- like really hard, I’m horny- I’m like REALLY , really turned on. Y/n please. Don’t make me beg.” Jack holds my left ass check in his right hand and he holds my back- right under my shoulder blades with his left hand.

He swaddles me in his hold for a minute as he prances around the room. We dance to the music, “it’s a new year anyway, we can celebrate!” Jack convinces me. He slides his right hand into my leggings discreetly and he pulls at my thong. He lets go as he lets it slap into my skin.

“Baby, I can’t wait any longer.” Jack pulls away from our hug that lasted like five-ish minutes. He runs towards Jesper.

“hey, um- I’m gonna need that guest room okay? And don’t let other people walk in, me and y/n are going through it. She’s really tired and I wanna stay so keep the music loud enough where you can’t hear us aguribg.” Jack sets our story up. Knowing Jesper, he already knows that Jack is trying to get in my pants. Jack walks around with his dick pressing against his pants whenever he sees me.

I whisper in his ear before he runs away with me, “seriously? Right here?” I judge him, he doesn’t care.

He takes my hand and runs into the room Jesper sets up for the party people- well Jack requested one, he always does this.

~

Jack throws me onto the bed, “legs.” He commands, I’m the only WAG that’s not wearing a sexy dress. I don’t need to impress anyone, Jack is the only one who’s seen me, and will probably be getting it.

I slides off my leggings and let him take off the rest of my clothes. He leaves my bra on, he takes my legs and sets them up. He moves my thing to the side. I’m already really wet.

“Wow, either you peed, or you really are horny.” Jack devilishly looks up from my pussy.

“No, you’re the one who’s horny, I just got off of my period.” I correct him. He’s never right, and I’m never wrong. “Fine, so that means your ovulating? Right?” Jack giggles as he stuffs a finger into my hole. He gets up licks his finger and locks the door.

He comes back and I’m already dry.

“You took to long.” I angrily reply to Jacks confused face. Jack jumps down onto his knees as I scorch up to the head of the bed. I hid a pillow between the wall and the headboard. I open my legs and throw off my underwear.

I unclip my bra and Jack tears it off my chest. He beds me down, my ass in his face, he lays down on his back as I sit ontop of this face. He moans as he takes me in. I start to jump on him. I feel like I’m going to cum, so I get up from him sucking inside of me, the suction form his mouth and my pussy breaks and I turn around.

Climbing into Jack, I face his hard dick, and he faces my very wet cunt again. “Again?” Jack gets annoyed. “Yes, you’re getting special treatment as well.” I pull onto his dick.

I play with his balls bad start taking his tip into my mouth. He lifts his hips up, the bdeige of his back lifted, my naked body lying on his bare skin. He licks my pussy out, cleaning every droplet of cum, and creating more. I do the same, except jack dumps everything at the same time.

“Excited, hey?” I tease him, Jack hits his nose into my bud. I realse more than ever and white juice spill onto jacks face. I get up finishing Jack.

~jacks pov~

Liftibg my hips, my shaft still in her mouth I thrust my dick into her throat, almost feeling her tonsils. I feel her tounge massaging every bit of my skin. My tip almost reaching to her stomach at this point I cum. I can feel her swallowing, impressive.

I pull a special on her as I hide my nose into her pussy, what a slut, a slut only for me.

She arrives and finishes on my face, dumping every ounce of fluid onto my face. I make her lick me clean and I lick her creases dry, leaving her actual holes wet, awaiting for her king to touch her.

“Baby, you can take it can’t you?” I ask her, out of breath already I stand up, I push her down onto her back, in missionary I fall into her. Spreading her legs I grab one and throw it over my shoulder.

Grabbing an extra pillow, I fold it stuffing it under her hips, allowing me to hit her G-Spot. She moan out, the music draining all of her cry’s. She ccleched her pussy onto my dick, closing all of the possible gaps. No air is filling her holes, noting but our cums bonding together, and my cock filling her vagina.

~ur pov~

He stuffs every inch of his cock into me. Jack talks me through it:

“Breathe for me.”

“Come for me, I can’t keep hitting you.”

“You’ve taken it before.”

“You’re such as little whore.”

“Slut”

“I love you.”

“You feel so good”

“You so tight.”

*moaning*

Jack is a horny person, and that’s his personality, I love him for it. He grips I to me and finally finishes his love for me. He pulls out belong up with the inside of his hoodie.

He slides his clothes back on and helps me up, he clings to my side as we head back to the party. My hair is frizzy, the perfect curls that I trwiled in a hot tool for hours are ruined, my shirt is crinkled. My makeup is messy, and I have red bits makes everywhere. Jack just seems out of breathe. But he’s a pretty boy, and he’ll get anything he wants.

We pretend like nothing happened. The party ended when John decided to body shot on Nico- not licking his abs, or taking the shot class for his mouth but performing a dance for us and eating a lemon with eachother. I drove John home and made sure he got to bed alright, by the time we got home Jack was sleeping and Luke had to help me carrru him in the house.

I guess there is no part two to our fun tonight.

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Taking a leaf out of @bcdaily's book, enjoy this random excerpt from a fic I started years ago and will definitely never finish.

When Sirius lead the way back inside the house, which the collective household had spent the better part of a day decorating—a testament to how much they loved Remus, or how much James enjoyed drawing Adipose faces on square balloons—James followed, and split off near the living room, where he found most of the guests, and his mum, who beckoned frantically for him to come over.

"There's a girl waiting for you by the front door," she told him, pointing towards the door that opened into the hallway. "I think she's here to deliver something."

"Probably Beatrice with the cake."

"No, she said her name—wait, no, come here!" cried his mum, as he turned and made to walk away, her hand closing tight around his forearm. For reasons that were utterly beyond him, she began to brush invisible crumbs from his suit jacket—he'd gone full Tennant for the sake of the party, red Converse and all—with such force that he felt as if he was one wrong move away from a violent pummelling.

"What are you—" he began, then cried out in pain as she caught him hard in the chest. "That was a rib, woman!"

"Stop whinging, I'm just trying to help you."

"Help me with what?"

"You'll want to look presentable before you go out there."

"Why?"

"Just trust me, you silly boy," she said, and made as if to grab his tie, but James darted out of the way. "I'm just trying to fix it!"

"Ten always wore his tie tucked in!"

"It's leaning to the left!"

"Yeah, well, so am I."

"A tie should look smart, not—" his mother began, to which James turned and fled at a flat-out run, bursting into the hall with unnecessary speed and startling a girl who, until that point, appeared to have been examining a painting of the Santorini coastline that his parents had mounted on the wall.

Correction. A very beautiful girl examining a painting of the Santorini coastline.

She'd jumped when he came running into the hall, but seemed to recover fast, and bestowed upon him an extraordinarily pretty smile.

"That was some entrance," she said, sounding amused. "Are you training for a marathon?"

He was still wrong. The word 'very' was sufficient for most things, but it fell short in this instance, because this girl, this lovely, pink-cheeked, ivory-skinned miracle, with waves of dark red hair and incomparably stunning eyes, was clearly the most beautiful girl James had ever laid eyes on in his life.

The most beautiful girl in the world was standing in his parents' hallway, for some reason, while he, like an idiot, was fully dressed as the bleeding Doctor and couldn't pretend that he wasn't, because she'd very likely heard him yelling to his mother about the favoured position of Ten's tie, and he had a sonic screwdriver tucked behind his ear.

"Um," he said. Um. That was it. A sound. He'd made a sound. Well done.

Maybe he'd get really lucky, and she'd know nothing about Doctor Who, and he could pretend that the screwdriver was a really fancy pen. Woman liked fancy pens. A fancy pen meant a fancy man.

"Are you dressed as the Doctor?" she said, eyeing his costume curiously.

The fancy pen idea shat a brick and ran for the hills.

"Er, no," he lied, his brain twitching frantically. He wished there was a way to rid himself of the screwdriver in an inconspicuous manner. "This is just how I dress."

"Are you sure?"

"Totally sure."

"Oh," she said, and the tiniest crease appeared between her eyebrows. "It's just, there's a two-foot tall Dalek cake sitting outside in my van right now, and that's telling me a different story."

Were James as pale as her—and it was particularly fortunate at this moment that he wasn't—his face would have been redder than his trainers.

"You're from Lily and Bee," he said, burning with shame. "I mean, from the bakery."

The girl nodded, pointing to her own chest. "I'm Lily, if you hadn't guessed, since you've already met Beatrice—if you're James Potter, that is, which I hope you are. He's the one I'm looking for."

She was looking for him she was looking for him she was looking for him she was—of course she was looking for him, she was delivering the cake he'd bloody commissioned. "I'm him. I'm James."

"Not the Doctor?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, and glanced down at his outfit. "But only on very special occasions."

She smiled politely, an image he wished he could record and play back when he remembered this conversation, so he could let his mind linger on the one thing he'd done right in all this ugly embarrassment. "I'm sorry if there's been any confusion—it's actually me who made the cake. I was on holiday for the week when you consulted with Beatrice and now she's on holiday and it's a whole thing, but it's all finished and ready, so no harm done."

"Ah, okay." He could do better than this. "Nice romantic week away, was it?"

Not like that.

"I was in the Lake District with my parents," she replied, regarding him with some curiosity. "So no, not particularly. Can't really sneak boys back to a Windermere-adjacent cottage with really thin walls, though I got to hear them going at it, which was horrifying." She pulled a face. "Anyway, I assume you're going to need this cake, yeah?"

[xxxanteaterxxx]

Furry Friends Pt. 2

remuslupin x femwerewolf!reader

Summary: The Marauders finally find you. You and Remus come to an unspoken understanding.

CW: Cussing, I'm not really sure what else lol

Is this shit? I feel like this is shit lol (this is for you @natf89)

It had been a week since the last full moon and Remus was feeling much better. His aches had gone away, and he found that he didn't have to many new scars either. All in all, Remus was feeling very good.

He had been searching keeping an eye out for you though. It was subconscious really, his eyes would search the face of everyone he passed in the halls between classes, he couldn't help listening for the sound of your voice or laughter in the great hall at mealtimes, and he had found himself thinking about almost all of the time.

It seems his friends felt the same way.

"How can she just be fucking gone?" James voiced, through a mouthful of toast, crumbs flying out and landing in the spot in front of him. This gained a disgusted look from Lily who happened to be sitting next to him today.

"Who are you looking for again?" Lily asked as she glared at James for his poor manners. She leaned forward in her seat at the table to look over James and at Remus. Her eyes were alight with curiosity, there was a slight tilt to her lips.

"Said her name was Y/N." Sirius rolled his eyes; he had been less than pleased with not being able to find her. His face was pinched in a way that made it seem as if he was really bothered by her absence.

"Oh, do you mean her?" Marlene spoke up from beside Sirius. She was pointing towards the entrance to the great hall. Remus could hardly help the way his head snapped to where she was pointing.

Finally, he had seen you. You were with a group of friends and had just entered the great hall. You hadn't looked in their direction, you seemed to be having a very heated conversation with two boys from Ravenclaw.

Remus had no qualms with letting you do your own thing, especially now that he knew for sure you were real. It seems Sirius had other ideas though. Before Remus could even blink, his friend was standing up on the bench across from him.

"Oi! Y/N!" Sirius bellowed, causing some of the hall to quiet down. Remus watched as you turned to face the interruption with a confused look on your face. As soon as you seemed to recognize him, a face splitting grin broke out across your scarred face.

You waved and quickly turned and said goodbye to your friends before heading over to the Gryffindor table. Remus couldn't help but smile at you as you approached. You were beaming and laughed as Sirius told James to scoot his "fatass" down.

You squeezed yourself into the little room that had been provided between James and Remus.

"Lo' lads!" You leaned in to peer past James. "Hello ladies!" You winked quite flirtatiously at the group of girls that sat with the boys.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Sirius asked for everyone. "We've been looking for you all week!" He exclaimed in an exasperated voice. You weren't bothered though; you had been busy. You grinned nonetheless.

"I've been quite busy if you must know!" You rolled your eyes and leaned into Remus, going to grab a piece of toast and the jam that sat in front of him. Sirius only huffed in response.

"It's good that you've found me though." Then you leaned in all dramatic like and schooled your features. "Because we need to talk." You watched as they all took on worried expressions. Then you were grinning. Nothing was wrong, but did they really need to know that?

No, they didn't. Not yet anyways.

"So, what's on your agendas today?" You asked, taking a bite out of your jam and toast right after. If you noticed Remus staring at you, you pretended not to notice. He was grateful for that.

"Well, we were actually going to spend our day looking for you..." James paused, looking sheepish. "But now that we've found you, we should all go into Hogsmeade!" You smiled at him, and he grinned back.

"That sounds good for me! I've been needing to replenish my stash of chocolates. My friends can't keep their greedy paws to themselves." You grumbled the last bit mostly to yourself, but it had Remus laughing all the same.

You peered at him and grinned, bumping your shoulders together. This action did not go unnoticed by his friends and neither did the blush that began to creep up on his ears.

"If we're going to be spending the day together than I would say introductions are in order?" You asked. "I'll go first. My name is Y/N Y/L/N!" You grinned and looked around, encouraging others to continue.

"Sirius Black! Pleasures all yours, I'm sure!" You laughed and nodded. Sirius seemed quite pleased with himself at that.

"Peter Pettigrew!" The sweet looking blonde boy next to Sirius spoke through a mouthful of whatever he was stuffing his face with. If his ill manners bothered you, it didn't show. You nodded at him as well.

"Remus Lupin." Remus spoke quietly from beside you. You recognized him as the other lycanthrope, and you offered him a kind smile and nodded again.

"James Potter, and this is my lovely Lily pad!" The boy who had dressed you was loud and seemed very excited to see you there. You smiled and waved. The girl beside him seemed less happy at his introduction for her but she smiled at you anyways.

"Thats Marlene, Mary, and Alice." Lily told you politely and pointed each one out. They all smiled and greeted you.

"What time are we meeting? Cause it's chilly out and I'd like to get bundled up before we go." You asked, looking around at whoever had answer for you.

"How bout's we pick you up? What house are you?" Sirius asked, you grinned and nodded.

"Hufflepuff." You answered simply. Sirius seemed surprised, seeing as you had walked in with a group of Ravenclaws. He nodded anyways.

"Okay, an hour sound good to everybody?" He asked again. Everyone seemed to agree that an hour was plenty of time.

"Alright, now that that's settled!" You clapped your hands together and stood up. "I will see you in an hour!" With another smile you were making your way out of the great hall and presumably to your dorms.

Remus watched as you walked away and he sighed, turning back to face the all-knowing boys that sat around him. Even Lily was looking at him with a knowing look.

"Moony, bud, wipe that smitten look off your face. You're making me feel sick." Sirius spoke up with a shit eating grin, causing Remus to kick him in his shin. Remus was the one grinning when the other boy yelped.

Sure enough, an hour later you were walking out of Hufflepuff house. The group of boys were already waiting for you. They noticed you immediately, perking up at the sight of you. You grinned and made your way over to them.

James was the first to greet you.

"Y/N!" He cheered with a blinding smile on his face. He threw his arm around you and began to lead the way. You didn't mind the touchiness; your friends were like that as well.

"The girls are waiting for us at the front." James told you, leaning in like he was telling a secret. You smiled and nodded, leaning in to whisper back.

"Ah, and how is your lovely lily pad?" You had asked, and you watched as he grew flustered. A knowing grin sat on your face as you turned to look at Sirius and Remus who walked slightly behind the two of you. Peter trailed along on your unoccupied side.

Before James could answer, Sirius was answering for him.

"Ah, Lily isn't actually James 'lovely Lily pad'." Sirius laughed, but when he saw James turn around to glare at him, he conceded. "Yet."

You laughed and elbowed James in the side lightly. As if that wasn't already obvious to you.

When you finally made it to the group of very pretty girls who were waiting for you, James released you in favor of greeting Lily. You didn't mind and smiled as the girl rolled her eyes at his shameless affections.

Remus was at your side then, taking the opportunity to talk to you. He waited for the others to lead the way before asking the questions he had been wanting to ask.

"So how long?" You knew what he meant. There was no need for him to elaborate. The others were quite a way in front of you, so you weren't scared to answer.

"The summer before our fourth year. I was 13." You said, your tone was much melancholy. It's not like you hadn't accepted it or come to terms with your lycanthropy. It was just hard to talk about and something that made you feel like you were 13 and being attacked all over again.

"You?" You asked him, still looking straight ahead. Remus sighed as he thought about his answer.

"I was 4." You grabbed his hand and abruptly stopped walking. You could feel tears in your eyes and before he could say anything else you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him.

He was tense for a few moments before you felt him wrap his arms around you as well. You face was pressed harshly into his chest.

"I'm sorry." Your voice was mumbled but Remus heard, and he felt his own tears welling up. It's not like his friends hadn't told him the same thing, but it was different coming from you.

Because you knew, you knew what pain he had been going through since he was 4 years old. You had experienced it yourself and so he held you while you cried for him. For the little 4-year-old boy who had been attacked and turned into what so many saw as a monster.

Remus cried too and he watched as his friends continued heading in the direction of Hogsmeade. He needed this, needed someone who truly understood the pain he had gone through his entire life.

You don't know how long the two of you stayed like that, but when you pulled away you felt better. So, you smiled up at him and nodded.

You grabbed his hand as the two of you began walking again. There were no more words spoken between the two of you. Nothing else needed to be said. You both understood.

When the two of you finally caught up to the rest of the group, nobody commented on your absence. Though, you pretended not to notice the knowing looks the others shared or the sly winks thrown towards Remus. You just smiled and added on to something silly James had said.

[siriusleee]

I see your post about fic request but I'm too shy to comment on the post 🥲😭🙏🏼

I'm just gonna drop the idea of Ghost (since I like how you write him) fluff themed, perhaps kinda suggestive? 👀

Ghost and F!Character already in relationship (almost 2 years perhaps), but both are not really into physical touch, especially Ghost

But a wild idea struck the F!character wanted touch his (bare) hands out of curiosity, and of course she ask for his consent. At first he's hesitate but he wanted to make efforts making their relationship 'closer' than usual? 👁👁

I'm not a writer so I'm gonna let your handle the rest Ma'am ✨🧎🏻‍♀️

Teach me how to write plis

paring: simon riley x f!reader

"And the girls that walk downtown are like some stars that fell to earth They like the veins in my arms, the story in my hurt” — "Condemned" by Zach Bryan

Everything with Simon Riley runs slowly. It’s never been something that’s bothered you but -

And there is always a but.

Occasionally you catch a glimpse of the skin between his gloves and the hem of his shirt. The black tattoos that swirl there, far enough away that you can’t make out what they are. You never needed to touch him to love him, but sometimes it’s all you want.

“Do you know,” you say between bites of your toast, crumbs falling onto your shirt, “that the tendon there in your wrist is something you evolved to have.”

“What?”

You run your finger up your own wrist, showing him what you’re talking about.

“It’s a thing you evolved to have. It’s to make throwing spears easier.”

“Knives too?”

“Probably.”

The conversation leaves something in the air. Some untold want you want that the two of you hesitate to speak aloud. You watch the way he pulls the sleeves of his jacket down farther to hide his skin from view. It’s fucking Puritan - the resolve he has around you and touching. You’ve never begged for his touch - any move too quick and he would disappear. Too etherial to be grasped.

But -

And there is always a fucking but.

Sometimes you’re hungry.

It’s natural - the urge to have skin to skin contact. And the two years you’ve spent in the opposite orbit of Simon, you’ve lacked anything that borders on physical touch. 

So you wait until he’s been home for a week, and there is more Simon than Ghost written into the wrinkles of his face. You try not to catch him off guard, but the way his mug falls heavily to the counter you know that you have.

“Do you not - do you not want to?” 

It’s hard to keep the nearly there hurt out of your voice. You know that if he says no, you’ll drop the entire conversation. But you want to know that whatever hunger inside you wants to explore him more is inside of him too. Simon watches you from over his black mask, hands held neatly behind his back. A parade rest while his brain tries to catch up to the entire situation.

“It’ll make you happy?”

You try very hard to keep the excitement from your voice as you answer in the affirmative. 

Simon’s fingers shake when he lets you lead him to the bedroom. His palms are burning hot through the thick material of his gloves. 

Simon lowers himself down at the edge of the bed; still gripping your hand tightly. 

You keep yourself far enough away that you aren’t crowding him, but his knees still cage yours in. 

“Are you sure Simon? If you don’t want to-”

His voice, a low rumble in his chest, cuts you off before you can give him an out.

“I already take so much from you.”

You don’t need him to ask to elaborate: he’s always thought that he’s ruined so much of your life. A real wedding. A real family. A real sense of intimacy. 

“That’s not true Simon - I have never needed more than this. And we don’t have to do this.”

Simon has always been a doer, not a speaker. So you barely breath as he pulls his gloves off, fingers bare to you. They lay loose on his thighs, tendons and veins sticking out against his pale skin. You reach your own out towards him.

Simon makes the first move, tracing his calloused fingertips across the sensitive skin on the top of your hands. His touch is so light for such a large man it causes you to shiver. At the movement, Simon pulls back, worry written in his brow.

“It’s fine Si.”

Skittish, he takes your hand again. He works to memorize the lines - the scar you got when you were 10 and you grabbed your mom’s curling iron. The whorls and curls of your fingerprints. And when he’s had his fill, he turns his hands over for you.

There is a lifetime written into his hands. You try to take it in the best you can: the warmth and roughness. The callouses that come from a trigger, and the ones that come from putting together the furniture that fills the house. You want to ask about a scar that runs from one side of his palm to the other, but you know that tonight is not the night.

And when he shivers too hard at the feeling of your thumb on a scar, you draw back - letting his hands slide out of yours. 

The moment hangs in the air around the two of you, Simon’s eyes searching your face for some hint of regret, of disgust at the feeling of his skin against yours. But he doesn’t find it; instead he’s met with a sharper hunger than you’ve felt before. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, hands still warm from his grip.

“M’fine.”

You let the hunger dangle between the two of you; a silent invitation for another evening. 

Teach me how to write plis

the best way to learn is to use what is sometime's called mentor texts. literally find someone who's writing you like and try to emulate it. then pick someone who's writing you don't like and do the same. repeat with different forms.

you will eventually begin to develop your own voice.

[killmongerskeeper]

Shuri Headcanons // Sfw & Nsfw // 18+

Request: Now I need headcanons for Shuri please kind ma'am. Just a crumb 👀 sfw and nsfw. -Anonymous

Pairing: Shuri x POC Reader

Warning: Fluff // Smut

SFW 

You two meeting each other was honestly an accident. She had accompanied T'Challa on a trip to the states to speak with the you and avengers. 

She jumped in your conversation to ask him a question and the two of you hit it off as soon as you laid eyes on each other.

Definitely a friends to lovers vibe

Shuri would show you around her lab whenever you two had a video chat going. 

Sending tiktoks at 4 in the morning to each other, then bickering about why the other is awake.

She's always sending you pictures of her latest inventions.

You'd tell her stories about your missions.

She thinks you were as good as Namkia when it came to infiltrating and spy stuff. 

When you two started dating you had to accommodate quickly to her habits of staying in the lab for many days straight.

You'd pull her attention out of her work with date ideas for later in the day. That's usually on a good day. 

Other days her work tends to get hectic which can lead to your princess being aggressive and highly irritable. 

With everything that's happened she does track your kimoyo bracket she gifted you. Can never be too sure. Not in an obsessive way but more of a, I care too much, kind of way. Like if she looks away for a second you're going to disappear. 

Gets jealous real easy. 

Will attach herself to your hip whenever she feels like someone is threatening your relationship. 

Loves having her hands on you. There isn't one spot she hasn't touched. 

NSFW 18 +

Now when I say she loves touching you. I mean that in both a sweetheart way and a I'm gonna fuck you like slut type of way.

She takes every opportunity she can get to bury her fingers in your pussy. 

Kissing in bed? Yeah you getting fucked. Taking a shower together? You getting fucked.

Hell she would take you on the balcony outside her room. A good fuck and a view? Sign me up.

I'm pretty sure it's been established that Shuri is a good eater from other headcanons and that fact remains. She'll never pass up the chance to have her face between your thighs. 

She would have your legs over her shoulders as she ate you like the last meal. 

Pull her hair. Just do it. Her tongue will go into overdrive. To have those curls running through my fingers.

Will overstimulate you so be aware. She has no problem holding you down till you cum a couple of times. Especially now she has black panther strength. 

She does enjoy being worshiped ever now and then. When she has a long day for example, it's your job to help your princess relax.

Into light choking.

She even cooks up some things in her lab to enhance the experience in the bedroom. All kinds of toys for her to use on you. 

Shuri definitely excels in dirty talk. Seriously, where did she learn all of this?

Favorite place to have you is on the balcony outside her room, under the stars. 

Usually falls asleep first.

Long story short Shuri is our kinky sweetheart.

[killmongerskeepermain]

Dating Shuri Headcanons

Summary/Request: Now I need headcanons for Shuri please kind ma'am. Just a crumb 👀 sfw and nsfw. -Anonymous

SFW 

You two meeting each other was honestly an accident. She had accompanied T'Challa on a trip to the states to speak with the you and avengers. 

She jumped in your conversation to ask him a question and the two of you hit it off as soon as you laid eyes on each other.

Definitely a friends to lovers vibe

Shuri would show you around her lab whenever you two had a video chat going. 

Sending tiktoks at 4 in the morning to each other, then bickering about why the other is awake.

She’s always sending you pictures of her latest inventions.

You’d tell her stories about your missions.

She thinks you were as good as Namkia when it came to infiltrating and spy stuff. 

When you two started dating you had to accommodate quickly to her habits of staying in the lab for many days straight.

You’d pull her attention out of her work with date ideas for later in the day. That’s usually on a good day. 

Other days her work tends to get hectic which can lead to your princess being aggressive and highly irritable. 

With everything that’s happened she does track your kimoyo bracket she gifted you. Can never be too sure. Not in an obsessive way but more of a, I care too much, kind of way. Like if she looks away for a second you’re going to disappear. 

Gets jealous real easy. 

Will attach herself to your hip whenever she feels like someone is threatening your relationship. 

Loves having her hands on you. There isn’t one spot she hasn’t touched. 

NSFW 18 +

Now when I say she loves touching you. I mean that in both a sweetheart way and a I’m gonna fuck you like slut type of way.

She takes every opportunity she can get to bury her fingers in your pussy. 

Kissing in bed? Yeah you getting fucked. Taking a shower together? You getting fucked.

Hell she would take you on the balcony outside her room. A good fuck and a view? Sign me up.

I’m pretty sure it’s been established that Shuri is a good eater from other headcanons and that fact remains. She’ll never pass up the chance to have her face between your thighs. 

She would have your legs over her shoulders as she ate you like the last meal. 

Pull her hair. Just do it. Her tongue will go into overdrive. To have those curls running through my fingers.

Will overstimulate you so be aware. She has no problem holding you down till you cum a couple of times. Especially now she has black panther strength. 

She does enjoy being worshiped ever now and then. When she has a long day for example, it’s your job to help your princess relax.

Into light choking.

She even cooks up some things in her lab to enhance the experience in the bedroom. All kinds of toys for her to use on you. 

Shuri definitely excels in dirty talk. Seriously, where did she learn all of this?

Favorite place to have you is on the balcony outside her room, under the stars. 

Usually falls asleep first.

Long story short Shuri is our kinky sweetheart.

[theflyindutchwoman]

I got asked this question and loved it so much, I wanted to open it up to the group.

If you could choose 5 Chenford scenes to rewrite, which would you choose, and how would you rewrite them?

Oooh thank you for 'tagging' me, Becca ♡ It is a great question! Let's see…

4.17 - The ending So technically, this isn't a Chenford scene… But this is partly why I would want it to be rewritten. Let's start with the most egregious part : having Lucy apparently forgive Chris and act like he hadn't just callously triggered her… or like she hadn't just watched the video recording her own death… That ending bothered me so much. Ideally, I wish she would have kicked him to the curb - or, at least, ask for some space after what he did… and I would have loved a final scene between her and Tim. One where she would have confided in him about watching the cam footages, where they would have talked about that day and her trauma… I love that she was able to work through it all by herself, that she found her voice so to speak and refused to play Rosalind's mind games… But somehow, I can't help but think that not having a single Chenford scene was a missed opportunity.

5.04 - The ending Since we're on that topic… Now, this was an even bigger missed opportunity. I still can't believe that we didn't get a scene between Lucy and Tim following Rosalind's death. And by that, I mean, a proper scene with some emotions and some feelings… I get that during the episode, they were too busy trying to find a way to save Bailey. I also get that things were still awkward between them. But come on, I don't believe for a second that this would have stopped Tim. This is the same man who didn't even think before grabbing her hand in the middle of their undercover op when they found out about Rosalind's escape… the same man who was panicking when Lucy was radio silent… I needed that same energy here. What we got instead was a bit too cold for me.

5.13 - Missing scene : the morning after You have no idea how much I was hoping for this scene… Something soft and domestic… with a reference to the DOD tattoo!

5.16 - Their fight about the five-player trade That scene still puzzles me. It felt forced and clunky. We didn't really get to see Tim's perspective and why he was mad at Lucy. In the shop, it sounded like he was upset with how her move would reflect on him… But in his office, they only talked about her going behind his back. So, in the end, it felt superficial. I'm not saying he was wrong by the way… I just wish his point of view could have been explored more. Both of their perspectives actually. Especially since Lucy paid a hefty price in the end. I guess the point was to show the cracks in their foundation, but it could have been done in a better way.

6.01/6.02 - Their fight Lucy's anxiety and potential doubts about UC were just swept entirely under the rug and the narrative simply focused on Tim's own issue with UC. But one issue doesn't negate the other. There were two problems here and only one got addressed - and barely at that. After all the crumbs from s5, all the times Tim walked away from having a real conversation on the topic, I needed more than 'I will deal with this' / 'we'll figure it out'. It's great that he was finally honest with himself but it still didn't go any further than that. And then, there's Lucy. I was hoping her anxiety would be the precursor for a bigger discussion about Lucy's future and her mental health, about her feelings about UC outside of Tim… but nope. Her spiraling was already forgotten in 6.02. And it is a bit frustrating.

[hacked-by-jake]

I'm currently in my third run and one thing doesn't give me peace. In the conversation between Ash and Charlie. Charlie asks Ash if she told us he could help us. But damn, what does he mean by that? 😟 I always rack my brain when I read this passage.🤔 what is your theory about what Charlie could mean? how could he help us and with what? 😩🧐 I wish you a nice day and look forward to your thoughts! 💜

YOUR THIRD???? HOWWWW??? ARE YOU A WITCH? A WIZARD?? JAKE??

Okay, joke aside. 🤭

Yes!!!! This is bothering me sooooo much as well. Like, do not do this, Everbyte! Don't throw this in front of our feet and run away! We wanted a piece of cake! Not only the crumbs! 😭

I seriously have no idea what this could mean. We know that we don't have contact with the group anymore. And we also know that out case was everywhere on the news. So the question is, what did they say there? What kind of information did they share which made Charlie belive he can help us?

I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with Jake. Ash told us they never mentioned Jake. But this could also be a lie since I don’t really trust her yet.

I could maybe imagine that the group... Even if I don't know if it makes much sense... But maybe our lovely friends had to join Phil in prison, lol.

Sounds weird and unlikely, somehow, I know. But if we remember all the crimes they did. Breaking in, keeping informations a secret, lying to the police, driving under the influence of alcohol 👀

Oh, and of course hiding a government-wanted hacker. I guess that could be a huge problem. And maybe it's not even the fault of the Duskwood police. We all consider the FBI not really kind. So maybe they don't like it if you hide their main suspect and that's why they had to join Phils little prison party.

I don’t know, this could be one thing.

The other thing, but I don’t know if that could help the others... 🤔

But I mean, we still suspect that Michael Hanson is alive. He just left and started a new life. And maybe this new life happens in a small city called Redlog Pines.

But as I said, I don’t know why this should affect the others in any way.

And it seems not logical enough to me that Charlie means he could just drive to Duskwood to talk to them. That would mean they know we don't have contact to the group anymore. But I don't think that's something they news would report. xD

Wahh, I don’t know. I mean, what if Charlie is a hacker as well? Not as good as Jake. Just someone who learned about it and is able to hack some websites and systems etc.

But somehow... Another hacker? I don’t know.

WAHHHHH, this question is killing me. xD

OK wow wow wow wow wow, I had just remembered something.

Whaaaaat if... Okay that's weird now and it's complicated since it's only a thing male MC experienced at the end of Duskwood. If I remember correctly, it was even you who told me about it.

But anyway.

At the end of Duskwood, Jessy tells make MC that she had a boyfriend but it wasn't a very good relationship.

And I mean, why was that mentioned? Sure it fitted the story but what if there's more behind it..

What if... What if Jessys ex is one of the new guys? And that's why there's a connection with duskwood? 🤔

Could that be? I mean, it sounds unlikely, even to me. But somehow... 🤔

Uhh, I don’t know, I'm guessing a lot.

Of course I was hoping it has something to do with Jake but I don't really think that's how it is. Not everything can be about him and it would rarely have to do with the Duskwood group.

But maybe Charlie has a connection with one of them. Maybe Dan or Thomas? Oh, maybe Thomas? As I remember correctly, Thomas did not grow up in duskwood.

But then again, Charlie's shock when he realises that we're the MC from Duskwood.. I mean, would you still react this way when you know someone who was also part of it?

And also, Ash seems to know as well that Charlie can help us. Otherwise he wouldn't have asked it this way.

Oof, I don’t know. Right now I sadly can't think of anything else but I'm dying to find out what is meant by that. And I hope we don't have to wait that long to find out. :')

Have you any idea for it? I love to read it soo..

And thank you so much for asking, it was very interesting to think about it and I feel honoured I was the one you asked, hehe. Does that sound weird? 😅 Anyway. I hope my thoughts are entertaining or similar.

And of course, I hope you will have a wonderful day. Take care of yourself and stay healthy and safe 💚🫶🏻🥰

[happyhauntt]

young gods | marauders.

writing masterlist | askbox

summary: the gryffindors have a little tradition on the first night back at hogwarts.

word count: 1.2k.

warnings: pre-established relationships, tooth-aching fluff, a brief mention of war.

notes: a wee excerpt from an old marauders fic i wrote years ago. i reread it recently and this section made me cry so i tidied it up and i'm posting it here as a little ficlet. enjoy!!

     Now, as Dorcas and Marlene slip into the common room, they find their friends in the corner, keeping warm by the fire. Lily and Alice are curled up together on an armchair built for one person, their legs tangled in long, fluffy dressing gowns.

Mary sits on the sofa next to them, legs stretched across Remus and Peter, the latter of which looking as though he has no idea what to do. James and Sirius are sitting cross-legged on a tartan blanket that covers the floor, and the latter looks up and grins as they enter.

     "McKinnon's brought snacks!" he cheers with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, clapping his hands as they approach. Dorcas pushes Mary's leg out of the way and squeezes into the gap between Remus and Peter, before letting Mary return her legs to their former position.

     "Dinner was less than an hour ago, Sirius," Marlene says with a roll of her eyes. She drops the food in the middle of the blanket, so all of them can reach it. Alice is quick to snatch up a handful of droobles. Marlene's tone takes on a falsely disapproving note, and she narrows her eyes mockingly. "You can't be hungry already."

     "McKinnon," he replies, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "there is a profound difference between food hungry and snacks hungry. You ought to learn it, for your life will be much better once you have."

     Marlene quirks an eyebrow. Her hand is halfway to reaching for a chocolate frog. "Is this the same sort of wisdom as when you told me that getting a leather jacket would change my life?"

     Sirius only smirks. He shares a cursory glance with James, who thinks Marlene's jacket has almost become an extension of her sunshine-scary personality. "I was right though, wasn't I?"

     Marlene thinks of that bright yellow jacket, sitting in her suitcase, waiting to be unpacked. She thinks of wearing it when she got onto the train earlier in the day, and how she'd been almost sad to take it off when she had to change into her uniform, and how careful she'd been in stowing it away in her suitcase.

     She allows Sirius a begrudging roll of her eyes. Both of them possess egos far larger than they ought to be, and she will not let him gloat. She'll probably smack him, otherwise.

     The evening moves on. Dorcas suggests that they pass around a box of Bertie Bott's, and Marlene knows it's a mistake when she reaches into the box with her eyes closed and picks out a speckled yellow-and-white bean between her fingers. The taste of rotten egg lingers for a while, no matter how many cauldron cakes she consumes.

     And she consumes many, many cauldron cakes.

     It doesn't take long for the tales of summertime exploits to begin being told with great detail and exaggeration. At some point, the conversation is steered by Lily ( rather expertly, her friend would say, although Marlene would argue that it was by no means subtle ) into the direction of muggle music. It doesn't take long for them to burst into a poor-but-hilarious rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. Dorcas joins in at the first verse, dramatically crying Mama, just killed a man! Remus, much to their surprise, does a fantastic Galileo, Galileo, which makes James and Sirius howl with laughter even though they don't know what the hell is going on.

     It's over too quickly. It grows dark outside, and the fire is dimming, and they're all a little bit sleepy now. There are crumbs all over the tartan blanket, and Marlene's head is resting in Sirius' lap, his fingers running through her tangled blonde curls.

     Lily has fallen asleep on top of Alice, ginger hair splayed out across the older girl's face, while Alice tries not to choke on hair. James is watching them, a dopey grin across his face. It's the kind that only appears when Lily isn't looking because he knows it annoys her now (even though it doesn't, really, but Lily won't tell him that because she's only just stopped wanting to smack him.)

     Peter's snoring away on the sofa. Remus is asleep, too, his head resting on Dorcas' shoulder, and Marlene thinks it's the most peaceful he's looked in a while. She doesn't know why she thinks that, but she does wonder about the scars that cover his body and how he gets so ill sometimes. He's her friend too, and she worries. She worries about all her friends.

     Dorcas is awake, and she's got a soft smile on her face. Mary's still lying across the top of the three of them, except she's asleep now, too, and about to roll right off the edge. Dorcas looks like she'll let her.

     Marlene takes a deep breath. She's not too good at talking about her feelings, but something about this moment feels right. She looks at the lot of them, half-asleep. When she thinks of the word home, this is what comes to mind  ━  her friends, her best friends in the whole world, peaceful and happy together.

     Part of her knows it won't last, but she tries to push that thought away. The war won't catch them, not as long as they are students at Hogwarts, and it's over a year before they have to deal with the danger in the world, isn't it?

     The war can wait. The world can wait. Right now, here, this is everything she needs. Her brothers can leave her behind if they want; if they love her, they'll come back, in the end. In this moment, she can't fix it. She can't save anyone.

     But this is home.

     "I promise I'm not drunk or sleep-talking," she murmurs, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment. She feels Sirius' hand fall still, hovering with expectation. "But I love you guys. All of you. You know that?"

     Lily makes a snuffling noise, as if she's heard Marlene's words, but she stays asleep. James chuckles quietly to himself. Dorcas looks like she might leap across the room and attack Marlene with a hug.

     Sirius looks down at her. His eyes are like steel in the dying firelight.

     "You need to chill or I'll tickle you, because nobody needed to hear that." He says it jokingly, because he did need to hear that. It is a symptom of growing up in a loveless home, he thinks, and he knows Marlene feels it too. One must be told, regularly, that they are loved and wanted.

     James tells him, every day. James, who is more of a brother to him than Regulus is, really.

     Carefully, she rises from Sirius' lap, rolling onto her knees. And then she says, "You'll have to catch me before you can tickle me, Black."

     She grins, suddenly filled with mischief and glee, moving quicker than lightning across the room, and the night ends with him chasing her around the common room.

     In that moment, with hair flying and her friends laughing and the thunder clapping outside, she thinks they are all infinite. They are all invincible. They are young gods with the world at their feet, the ones who will never die, and time stops moving.

      And then Sirius catches her.

      And the moment's over.

[smol-and-scared]

Endemic Non-Lingual Tinies

Imagine a world where tinies never evolved the capacity for language (Mostly due to the fact that larger civilizations did not survive natural selection)

I posted about this idea before, but let me be more specific this time:

These tinies cannot speak, cannot read or write, and they cannot be taught language.

Their brains completely lack the capacity to convey complex ideas.

The most 'language' they can possibly learn is about twelve words.

And that's just because they memorized the sounds and meaning in the exact same way a dog would.

However... just because they are not able to convey complex thoughts, doesn't mean they don't have them.

Their thoughts aren't articulated as words (like humans do). Instead, they think in images, concepts, and emotions. And their voices are... just little chirping sounds.

Imagine seeing a pack of two or three tinies hiding under a picnic table, chirping and squeaking at each other. They are communicating, but only in the simplest possible terms:

'Anger', 'Confusion?', 'Assertion', 'Anger', 'Apology', 'Submission', 'Acceptance', 'Condescension', 'Exasperation', 'Challenge?', 'Dismissal...', *Scampering Off*, *whimper*

That's just how things are with tinies! They're clearly intelligent. Most of them are able to craft weapons, tools and clothes. Some have even been observed making mechanical devices!

It's like hearing crows argue outside your window. There is clearly a conversation happening. But it's all conveyed through tone, body language, pitch and context.

But to a human? It's just a bunch of tiny noises that sound almost identical.

For a moment, one could almost forget how different their minds are. Watching them work, they seem just like us...

And then you notice those tiny engineers keep a sort of 'Master Pebble' (which they carry everywhere, cradling it protectively) Because they do not have any other way to standardize their measurements within or between packs.

...Maybe not just like us.

It's extremely rare for a tiny to approach a human, but the experience is absolutely magical. Maybe they're hoping you'll drop some crumbs from the snack you are eating. Perhaps they are curious about you, and perch nearby to watch in amazement as you lift an entire apple! If you've earned their trust, they may even beckon you to help them when there is an emergency or accident.

And of course, how much you see tinies at all depends on the area, its wildlife, fauna, and ~general vibe~

If tinies feel particularly safe somewhere, they will mingle out in the open (but always close to a potential escape route).

You can wave at them of course! In a hostile area, they will flee at any acknowledgment. In a friendlier or safer place? They will wave back! They aren't 100% sure what the gesture means, but it keeps the humans happy and most will immediately leave them alone after getting a wave back, so most tinies keep doing it.

[Side note:

Mimicry has become most tinies' default solution to a seemingly friendly human gesturing at them. Don't believe me? Lock eyes with a tiny and wiggle your body a couple times. They'll be confused as hell, but goddamn it they will wiggle]

All in all, tinies are a beautiful little enigma. Their intelligence, willpower and emotions are almost a mirror of our own. But their instincts, communication and relationships are as wild as the animals that surround them.