#if not earrings then it will be a tiny thing to hang up somewhere like on a rearview mirror

[sea-buns]

even if i was all caught up on cr i dont think id be watching the ep tonight. still not even at the 2 hour mark in the fhjy ep for various reasons but mostly cuz i got trapped scrolling pinterest and sketching ideas for fig/ayda inspired earrings. that meteor shower has taken my attention hostage istg

[lovemomhatepolice]

i'll make it fit - rafe cameron

navigation taglist requests

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: sexual overtones, established relationship, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex (PROTECTED YOURSELF), this damn tiny polo!!, English is my second language!, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER!

type: totally smut (this is the first time i've written something like this, which has practically no plot at all, just sex itself. keep my fingers crossed that it didn't turn out badly!!!), small plot but really small

word count: 1,8k

summary: rafe cameron likes things too small for him.

more content: obx masterlist, rafe cameron masterlist

Mornings in Tannyhill were mostly quiet. Since Ward Cameron was dead and his entire family had moved to a house in the Bahamas, it was quiet there. Hearing of Sarah had disappeared - she was probably somewhere with her friends, again putting her life at risk, nothing new. And the only one who lived there was Rafe, who had taken over the company from his father and decided to return to the “old garbage.” Well, and you lived there too, by the side of your beloved. You couldn't have dreamed of a better life.

You were awakened by the bright rays of the sun, which rudely crept through the slightly parted curtains into your shared bedroom. You dragged yourself lightly and glanced at the clock, which was on the bedside table and, as usual, was making that unbearable sound.

After muttered under your breath, you slipped out from under the warm quilt, which, to say the least, wasn't all that necessary - after all, it was summer. But by the fact that you were in just a lace petticoat, it definitely enveloped you with a warmth that was missing.

You didn't know what time it was, but by the fact that Rafe wasn't next to you, you knew it was probably after nine o'clock. You didn't have to look for him for long, because as soon as you stepped out into the hallway from your bedroom, you heard his voice. You looked out the balcony door, which was gently open, and smiled at the sight. Rafe, in a freshly stitched buzzcut, was sitting on the couch talking on the phone. In front of him on the coffee table he had papers spread out and a laptop in which he was busily tapping something. As soon as he noticed you he sent you a slight smile, but he was so engaged in the conversation that he did nothing more. And you couldn't be passive, after all, he was wearing a beautiful blue and damn tight polo that exposed his perfectly shaped biceps. You laughed quietly, seeing him nervously tweak them as they rolled up higher and higher each time, not covering as much of his arm as they should.

Despite his serious tone on the call, his eyes would flicker toward you every few moments, his smile softening just enough to let you know he was glad you were there.

Not one to resist temptation, you decided to have a little fun. You strolled over to him, moving slowly, letting your fingers trail along the back of the couch as you circled around to where he was sitting. Rafe’s eyes darted up, narrowing slightly in a silent warning.

You didn’t make it easy for him. With a mischievous smile, you leaned over and whispered into his ear, "That polo looks a little tight, don’t you think? You might need help taking it off later."

“Uh, yeah… sure,” he said to the person on the other end of the call, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “Send it to the office, they'll take care of it,” he muttered, hanging up.

You moved your hands over his shoulders, gently massaging them. Rafe put the phone down on the table, closed the laptop and leaned his head against the back of the couch, looking at you.

“You know what you're doing, huh?” he parroted under his breath.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered, letting your breath tickle his skin. “Just trying to make sure my man relaxes after handling all that business.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered, covering yours with his hands. “Whatever you want,” you muttered, going down with your palms on his chest. “Oh, but this polo is really too small for you.” Rafe laughed under his breath and gracefully helped you past the couch so that you were now standing in front of him, between his legs. You were in just a white lace slip that didn't cover much underneath, so Rafe could immediately see your hardening nipples.

You let out a soft laugh as Rafe’s strong hands gripped your thighs, pulling you effortlessly onto his lap. You straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush cushions of the couch on either side of his hips. The way he looked up at you—like you were the only thing in the world that could hold his attention—sent a warm rush through your veins.

"So needy" He muttered, stroking your hair and putting it behind your ears. “Who would have thought that you would beg for my attentions so much?”

“I'm not begging,” you muttered, swallowing your saliva loudly.

You could have sworn that in that moment Rafe heard your loud heartbeat. And even though you had been together for more than a year, he continued to trigger the same feelings in you. “No?” he asked ironically, his hand touching your pussy, which was covered only by a thong. “I would say something else.”

“Rafe,” you muttered, gently pushing your hips out to meet him as his nimble fingers pressed your clit harder. “So wet,” he mumbled, moving your panties aside and nimbly sliding his ring and middle finger into you.

You brought your face closer to his and grabbed his jaw, bringing your lips together in a sweet kiss. It was still quiet around you, the only things you could hear were the birds and your moans, drowned out by your boyfriend's mouth.

His thumb moved to your clit, the touch was light, teasing, his fingers tracing slow circles that sent tingles up your spine. And his fingers didn't stop moving up and down, each time hitting the exact same spot. Rafe knew what the fuck he was doing, he always knew how to make you in heaven in a moment by his precise movements. He knew your body like no one else, just like you knew his.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said, moving his lips to your naked neck. You felt you were close - Rafe did the same, following the feeling as you pulsed on his fingers. You didn't have to wait long until your body shook with pleasant and familiar reflexes, and you came on his fingers, burying your head in his neck.

Rafe took his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, sucking on them. Oh this sight and Rafe in his damn tight blue polo, was something too strong for you to go through. You moved against his lap, letting him know that this was not what you wanted. “Still eager, huh?” he laughed throatily, but you didn't have to wait long. Rafe always knew what you needed and you got it right away. "You taste so good, baby"

“Rafe please,” you muttered, clasping your small hand over his large cock, which was getting harder and harder under you. “Anything for you,” he muttered, quickly getting rid of his pants.

Without much warning, he entered you. Slowly at first, because you knew very well that he was big. And even after so many times together, you continued to feel a slight discomfort at first. But Rafe always made it fit. He couldn't resist your tight pussy, which was even screaming for his attention. “Fuck, tight as ever,” he whispered, correcting himself on the couch so that you were more comfortable. “But don't worry, I'll make it fit.”

And as he said, so he did. With agility, he began to move inside you, making both of you nothing but moaning messes.

“Wait, I want,” you said, putting your hand on his chest. On that damn sexy polo. “Oh, a princess wants to take control?” he laughed under his breath, catching you under the thighs, but as if on cue he stopped moving inside you, making you feel again how big he was inside you. You groaned involuntarily, but didn't give in. You moved nimbly on top of him, practically taking him out of your pussy every now and then, and then lowering yourself all the way down again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his head falling back against the couch, exposing the strong line of his throat. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted as he watched you, completely entranced by the way you were moving, the way you were making him feel.

You could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to let you set the pace, but the way his fingers flexed against your skin told you just how badly he wanted to take control.

“Not yet, Rafey,” you muttered, moving even closer to him. “You deserve the best. Especially, when you're in that slutty polo"

You increased your pace, but Rafe couldn't stand it anymore either, and came against you, entering your pussy from below. At that moment your bodies were merging at the perfect moments and places, so you were already not far from orgasm. And with that, he captured your lips again, his kiss rougher this time, more urgent. There was no more teasing now-just the raw, unfiltered need that always simmered between you both, threatening to spill over the edges.

“I'm so close,” you whispered into his mouth, clamping your pussy against him every so often. “I know, baby, I can feel it,” he muttered into your mouth, gently biting your lip to reach inside again. "Mmm, so good for me"

Rafe grabbed your buttocks and with even more force began to pound his cock into you. Your tongues fought for dominance, and your hands couldn't find room on his body, clamping down on the collars of his shirt.

"Shit" he murmured into your lips, feeling as his cum shot into your pussy, making quite a mess.

Not much later you too reach climax, clenching around his dick. Exhausted, you leaned on his shoulder kissing his neck. Rafe stroked your back, still calming down after the orgasm that hit you surprisingly hard this time. You felt him smiling over your shoulder, so you shared his happiness, smiling too. You moved your head off his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes now. He was still inside you, so every movement, made quiet sighs come out of your throats.

“What's so funny?” you asked, stroking his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth gently.

“Maybe I should wear that tight polo more often, just to find yourself in your tight cunt again?” he laughed lightly, returning your kiss.

“Oh shut up, asshole,” you muttered, lowering yourself on top of him once more until he groaned and settled his head on the back of the couch, pulling you against him.

A/N: I know there's a lot of Rafe or Drew here lately, but I swear, when I see this man, I feel so ungodly that oh jesus, i hope you enjoyed this

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[sttoru]

‘if there’s anyone in this world who loves being a girl dad the most, it must be your husband — gojo satoru.’

☀︎｜tags. girl dad!gojo x female reader. fluff. you’re married. reader gets called ‘mama, sweetheart’. wrote this at work so not beta read. fic one out of two for satoru’s birthday!

giggles fill the living room — familiar laughter that sounded like your daughters’. a more sultry and manly voice also resonates in the background. one that you could recognise from miles away.

your curiosity leads you to investigate the source of the joyful sounds and soon enough, you find your dear husband and daughters sitting on the couch. though, in a situation you hadn’t quite foreseen.

satoru was talking on the phone about important business whilst your little girls were giving him a rather sparkly makeover. the most heartwarming thing was satoru’s surrender to your daughters’ antics — allowing them to do whatever to his face and hair.

“mhm, yeah..” the white-haired sorcerer hums over the phone, not having the slightest idea about what ijichi was yapping about. probably something that has to do with the recent sighting of a special grade curse in the city.

but, that wasn’t satoru’s priority at the moment at all (even if it should have been). his focus was all on his two daughters that were enjoying their playtime with him.

“papa’s so pretty.” one of them comments with a big smile — a smile satoru wishes to protect until his last moment on earth. her fingers push and pull on a small strand of his hair, trying to tug it into another ponytail.

satoru had already lost count of how many messy and half-done ponytails his snowy hair got divided into. the same goes for the amount of stickers on his face and neck.

the two sisters work together to put another pink and glittery sticker on satoru’s chin — though were no match to their father’s playful attitude. he jerks his head forwards and teasingly nibbles on their tiny hands that came in touch with his face.

this causes almost ear deafening squeals to reverberate through his ears. not that he’s complaining — satoru loves to hear them.

“. . .gojo, are you listening?” ijichi’s shaky voice over the phone interrupts the squeals. satoru doesn’t even try giving a proper response and only mutters a quick ‘yeah’ between snickers. that was enough of a sign for ichiji to understand that he couldn't get through.

everyone knew how much satoru loved his little family. he cherished them and put them above everything, including his work. sometimes it was necessary for you to remind satoru that he's needed outside your home - that he was and will keep being the strongest sorcerer that people depend on.

"wow, you two really made papa super pretty!" satoru coos as his daughters bring him a hand mirror. his phone had already been discarded somewhere on the couch - not even bothering to hang up on ijichi first.

your husband effortlessly picks the children up and cuddles them close to his body, smothering them both in sloppy wet kisses on their cheeks and necks - making them giggle uncontrollably. "y'know, papa will give you both a nice little reward for making me so beautifu—”

a faint cough echoing from the mobile device next to them reminds satoru that he was still on call. he reaches out and grabs his phone, rolling his eyes in a sassy way before clearing his throat;

"i need to attend important business. see ya." the sorcerer declares and hangs up right after. to him, playing around and taking care of his daughters was more than necessary. even in comparison with an actual critical situation: it wasn't like there weren't any other special grade sorcerers that could take on the mission.

the second his phone plops back down on the couch, satoru's hands fly over to tickle his little girls' bellies. they wriggle and squirm around in his lap - squealing for help from their mama.

you had been watching the scene unfold from the doorway and decide to join in on the fun once you hear your daughters’ call. you gasp dramatically before scurrying over to the couch, acting like you were genuinely scolding your husband for his 'torturuos' tickles;

"oh no, my little girls!" you pout, taking in the way your daughters laugh and outstretch their tiny arms towards you, searching for an escape in your arms. you gladly help them away from their dad's grasp, though not without getting a whine out of satoru.

one of your daughters sticks out her tongue at the sulky sorcerer on the couch, the other mimicking her sister's actions. you chuckle and decide to do the same; frowning and sticking your tongue out.

"ack!" satoru clutches his chest, fingers curling around the material of his shirt like he just got shot. he topples over on the couch and acts dead with his eyes half closed, "i can't. . . believe. . . it. my girls hate me. ugh, my heart - can't take it."

you scoff at his exaggerated act. you were used to it after years of dating and marriage, but your daughters seemed to still take the bait. they writhe around in your arms and once you put them down on the floor again, they run back to their 'fallen' dad.

they shake him by his shoulders and harshly pat his cheeks in attempt to bring him back to life. a constant loop of 'papa!'s and 'wake up!'-s echo throughout the house. even some 'we're sworry!'-s thrown in-between.

satoru couldn't take it anymore and his arms move at the speed of light so he could pull both of his daughters in a big hug. he squeezes them a bit too tight to his chest, causing them to shriek and laugh.

"are you not joining us, sweetheart?" satoru asks with a shit-eating grin. it's then that you realise that he was blushing from pure joy — his cheeks rosy. well, you couldn't possibly deny his request when he was this ecstatic.

the high-pitched 'mama too! mama too!' coming from both girls mellowed your heart even more. and thus, you give in.

you happily join the pile - climbing on top of your husband and between your daughters which lay on each of his sides. your head rests on his chest, your eyes closed and your ears filled with laughter.

satoru eventually relaxes, however that genuine smile never leaves his lips. this is where he belongs. with his family - the most important thing of all.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

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

Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-”

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @tea-earl-grey-thot

[sinofwriting]

Wait - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,936 Summary: Ollie Bearman doesn’t wear necklaces, it’s just not his thing. So why during the 2023 Mexico GP is he spotted wearing a necklace with a familiar ring hanging from the chain Note(s)/Warning(s): This is in fact the purity ring fic. It’s a bit NSFW. Reader is Max Verstappen’s little sister. I nearly included lestappen because the idea of both Verstappen siblings dating a Ferrari (or Ferrari adjacent) driver was funny to me, but I didn’t. Also, thank you to all the people who told me to write this. I’m going to go somewhere, but I’m glad I did!

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A ring sits on her finger. The same finger that will one day have an engagement ring then a wedding band to join. The band is thin with two knots and between both knots are four tiny pearls, barely the size of a grain of rice and in the middle of those four pearls is a mix of her birthstone and Max’s. She had gotten it when she was eleven shortly after she had heard Max joking with some of his friends about sex and she went to their mom asking what exactly they meant and for the past six years it had sat there.

It was the first big purchase Max had made with his F1 paycheck. The seventeen year old had felt ashamed and horrified at his baby sister overhearing the things him and friends were joking about. And even worse when their mom had to give her the talk. It had been nothing however compared to what their father had thought when learning of it. Max had swore his ears were ringing as Jos had yelled at him for first having his friends around her and second talking about sex when he knew that she was in the house and liked to randomly join them.

The ring had been a nice way to ease the tension and though he had been a bit red as he explained what it was to her, she had nodded along with his explanation, looking serious before putting it on and then smiling at him and hugging him.

At eleven it hadn’t really been an issue, wearing a purity ring, promising that she’d wait to be married before having sex. It hadn’t been a problem when she was fifteen and her first spike of hormones hit and suddenly sex wasn’t something that felt so far away or like a weird foreign concept. It hadn’t been a problem at sixteen either when she got her first boyfriend, who Max had quickly run off.

It had started to be a problem after she turned seventeen and got together with Ollie.

Ollie who she was never supposed to meet. Was only supposed to know of because she followed F2 and F3. But then she joined Max for the remainder of the 2022 season in July. Done with school and unsure if she wanted to go to Uni, unsure really of what she wanted to do.

She had planned to stay home with her mom, putter about the house, maybe do some small writing for Redline and Verstappen.com that she’d email to Kris, who would send her the money that they got paid for them instead of submitting them herself where Max would be sure to give her a stupid amount of money for something that took maybe thirty minutes to write.

But then Max had heard about her plans and she was officially employed by her brother. Managing his website, instagram, and Redline’s social media, going with him to every race, which meant that she had far too much free time and meant that she found herself following around Jack Crawford as he finished up his F3 season which meant running into Ollie Bearman.

Ollie, who was so unexpectedly sweet and cute, who made all the blood rush to her face as her heart worked overtime, made butterflies appear in her stomach.

It had been the second time that they saw each other that he had asked her on a date and now a year later, the two are now both eighteen and head over heels in love, and the ring that rests on her left ring finger feels more like a nuisance.

She had never had sex, hadn’t even really touched or been touched until Ollie but as the F2 season had grown to a close it felt like that was all that was on her mind and Ollie’s.

The kisses they shared when alone quickly grew into heated make out sessions and when they had time, they found themselves in his hotel room under the covers, underwear still on but hands exploring each other's bodies.

She falls in love with the pattern of freckles on his back and the way he shivers when she traces them with her fingers. The spot above his heart that always makes his breath hitch when she kisses it. His strong calves that always tense right after his thighs when she settles on his lap. His hands and how much bigger than hers they are. And his fingers that he lets her play with, kiss and nibble at just to see and hear the stuttered breath he gives as his cheeks turn red.

He falls in love with the small tattoo that still only he knows she has, it’s small enough to just barely be hidden by even her more risqué bikinis. The scar she has on her knee that makes her shiver when his fingers or lips touch it. The soft skin of the underside of her breasts, because it feels nice to stroke when he gets the chance to dip his hands underneath her bra. The moan she gives when he settles in between her thighs and rests his weight on top of her as they kiss.

Ollie knows what the ring is, what it means, what she promised Max. It’s the one thing that always reminds him to stop, that pulls him back when he’s about to dip his fingers beneath her underwear to feel her wetness against his fingers or about to ask her to take her bra off, to let him see more of her. The feeling of her ring always draws him back. Makes him refocus on just kissing her and not getting ahead of himself before he makes another mess of himself.

He sees it every time he sees her, he kisses it every time he lifts her hand to his lips, first kissing the ring, a silent promise to himself that one day he’ll replace it with a ring of his own, before kissing her hand.

So Ollie doesn’t think anything when he comes home from simulator work to his flat in Maranello smelling like brownies. It had taken a bit to convince Max that she didn’t want to go home but rather wanted to go on a little trip with her friends. She just neglected to mention that there was no trip, and by friends she meant boyfriend, and really she meant during the week break they’d have she’d be going to Italy to stay with Ollie.

“That smells so good.” Ollie groans, kicking his shoes off before moving further into the flat. She beams at him, accepting the kiss he presses to her cheek. “I know you had dinner there so I made brownies. And not a whole pan.” She adds. “I know you can’t indulge too much.” “Thank you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into him.

He starts to sway them both as he stares at the small pan of brownies, the smell of them mouthwatering.

“Can I have one?” “They like just got out of the oven.” He pouts, bending his neck and pressing his face into her neck. “Please?” “You're going to burn your fingers and mouth.” She laughs. “Pretty please?” He tries. She makes a humming noise, one he feels more than hears. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” “Deal.”

She giggles as he quickly turns her in his arms. “Hi.” She greets as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” He parrots back and the thought of the brownies are gone from his mind as he looks at her.

She’s got a piece of his merch on, one of the sample sweatshirts, but also a pair of his boxer briefs. It’s like she’s drowning in him and he just wants to add to it.

Pressing their lips together, he grunts when her nails dig lightly into the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” She murmurs against his lips. He shakes his head, “it’s fine.”

They stand there for a while just kissing, but then his hands are moving underneath the top she’s wearing, grasping at her hips before fingers trail up her sides before back down and she’s pulling him to his bedroom.

They’ve done this so much that it takes barely any time for him to take his FDA polo off and then his jeans before joining her in bed, settling between her thighs. It doesn’t however stop him from rocking his hips into hers a couple of times before he can stop himself, hunger only growing when her hips hitch upwards and she’s wrapping a leg around him, pulling him closer.

“Fuck, darling.” He gasps, pressing kisses to her exposed throat. She moans, her hands resting on his bare back and it’s the feeling of her ring that makes him stop. Hips nearly thrusting again when she whines, but he tenses his whole body, not letting it loosen even when he kisses her again, swallowing the next whine she lets out.

His right hand makes his way underneath her top as they continue to kiss, his body relaxing into hers as he gets control of himself again.

As his fingers creep up her side, he wonders what they’ll feel. The spandex of her sports bra? The cotton or whatever it is of the one bra she likes to wear to media days? Maybe lace? His mind spins at the last option and he gulps.

She’s only worn lace once and it was on their year anniversary, their first approved sleepover. Though Max had made sure to get her from his hotel room at 11 am. But he considers they have the rest of the week just them together and he doesn’t have to go into the factory anymore. And she made him brownies, homemade. He knows because of the way she had been standing at the kitchen counter, carefully looking at them. So, maybe another treat for him was her wearing lace.

But as fingers reach where he’d normally feel the edge of something there is nothing. He goes to frown but before he can, her chest rises, his fingers graze the underside of her left breast and his hips are snapping into her again.

“Oh my god.” She moans at the feeling. “Fuck.” He curses and he feels out of breath as he feels more of her. “You’re not,” he mutters. “You’re not wearing anything.” She shakes her head, bucking her hips wanting more friction. “Please, Ollie. Want more, want it off.” He should be saying no, he can already feel his control hanging by thread at the knowledge that she’s not wearing a bra, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees her boobs for the first time, but he’s backing away, letting her sit up, and she’s flinging his sweatshirt off.

His jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide and his dick twitches. He sees the way she bites at her lips, arms starting to come up and he’s quick to react. Fingers touching the soft skin, thumbs rubbing at her nipples as he sort of holds them.

“Pretty.” He manages to get out and feels himself blush. “Can we kiss again?” Ollie nods, eager.

He carefully lays next to her, drawing her on top of him, the two both gasping at the feeling of her bare breasts resting on his bare chest.

His hands dance up and down her back, sometimes his pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxer briefs that she’s wearing before moving back up again as they kiss, hips still moving together.

When she shifts a little on top of him, moaning, he grasps at her hips, stopping her from moving as he feels himself twitch and he just knows that he has to be leaking, creating a wet spot in his underwear.

“We have to stop.��� “I’m close though.” His head falls back and he groans. “I am too.” “I,” She stops, thinking of the lingerie she had brought with her, the dinner reservation she had made for herself and Ollie tomorrow night, the necklace chain also in her suitcase. “I want more.” She says, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.” He’s looking at her wide eyes and she’d think that he didn’t want her back if she couldn’t feel how hard he was underneath her. “But,” his eyes dart to her left hand. “I thought we were waiting.” She feels blood rush to her cheeks at his whisper, at the promise he made for and to her.

She had been nervous when telling Ollie about her purity ring and about she would like to wait awhile, maybe even till marriage to have sex, especially after he shared that he had already had sex before. But he had been surprisingly okay with it after he had a few days to think and wrap his head around it, and not that she knew but to talk to his dad about it, before he came back said that he’d wait as long as she wanted.

“I mean, we did.” She whispers back. “I just, I think you’re the one, ya’know. And even if you aren’t, I can’t see myself ever regretting you.” There’s a stinging in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Okay.” He shifts her down a bit so he can sit up, pressing their lips together. “Okay.”

Her hands cup his cheeks as they kiss while his hands stay on her hips. Not moving or doing anything despite the fact that she’s given the all clear. It’s one of her hands dropping from his face to trail down his body, that makes his hands move, grabbing her ass, pressing her down and closer. It makes her gasp.

“Ollie.” He groans at the sound of her moaning his name. His eyes dart to his nightstand, where there should be some condoms in the drawer with lube as well and then he’s cursing, hands falling away from her. “We have to stop, darling. I’m sorry.” “But,” She shifts on top of him and he swears again when he looks down and sees a wet patch peeking out from where she’s sitting on top of him. “I know, but I don’t have any condoms.” He feels himself flush, “I threw them away after we got serious since I figured it wouldn’t happen for a few years.” “No.” She whines, heading dropping onto his shoulder as her whole body sags.

She hadn’t thought about buying condoms, mainly because despite the lingerie she packed and the dinner reservation, she hadn’t actually planned on them having sex. She just wanted more, even some dry humping or at the very least to feel fingers against her that weren’t her own.

“I could pull out.” The words are weak to his own ears. She lifts her head slightly to look at him. “Do you really think you could?” “I could run and get some condoms.” He really doesn’t feel like getting back in the car, doesn’t feel like leaving her, but he’d do it. "No,” she shakes her head. She didn’t like the idea of being alone, waiting for him to come back with condoms. Or him putting clothes back on, the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She then pauses as something comes to mind. “How’s your Italian?” His brows furrow at the question. “It’s decent. Basic and more strategy and car related. But I get by, why?” “I was thinking of Plan B.” “Plan B?” His brows furrow more before it clicks and his eyes widen, “oh, Plan B.” “Yeah, I’d still want it even if you do end up pulling out, but I don’t think that will happen.” He wants to protest, deny, argue that he absolutely could pull out, but it’d be a lie.

“Ollie.” She whines nearly an hour later as he tries to get her to separate her thighs. “You’re all sticky.” He tells her. “I need to clean you up before it dries.” And god was it a bitch to clean up dried cum. “I’ll be quick.” He promises. She pouts, but lets her thighs fall apart, wincing at the burning muscles. He swallows at the sight of their mixed release. He hadn’t managed to pull out the first time, but the second he had managed to, only to finish practically in her anyways. And it was worse because of her own two orgasms that added to the mess. Taking the damp cloth, he carefully cleans her up, apologizing when she whines when he presses a bit too much on her clit.

“Much better.” He grins, when he’s done. Throwing the cloth in the direction of his laundry hamper. “Cuddle?” She asks, making grabby hands at him and eagerly joins her again in bed, slipping the covers over both of them. “That’s better.” She mumbles, when they settle together and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her head.

It’s hard for him to leave when he wakes up in the morning. They’re still both naked and she’s sleeping peacefully beside him. But he’d rather go and get her the Plan B now, then put it off until later when she’ll be fully awake.

Rolling to his side, he presses a series of light kisses to her face. She mumbles a bit and he chuckles. “I’ve got to go, darling.” She mumbles again, turning to lay on her side as well. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” Her voice is low, thick with sleep. “I need to get some things real quickly. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, okay?” “Do you have to?” She pouts. “I’ll be quick.” He promises, bending to kiss her.

It takes him barely any time to get the Plan B and condoms, though he had stumbled his way through Italian to get the Plan B before just pulling up a picture of it.

“Darling?” He calls when he gets back. “Kitchen.” She calls back, a hint of sleep still in her voice. With the bag hanging from his finger, he walks to the kitchen. “I got you plan b and condoms for me, just in case.” “No, just in case. I’d like a repeat.” He grins at her, setting the bag on the counter. “Yeah?” She nods, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Bending, he captures her lips in a quick kiss, humming.

“Want to do brownies for breakfast?” His eyes widen and they dart to the counter. “I completely forgot you even made those!” “I’ll take that a yes?” “Please!”

Cutting him a piece and then one of herself, she puts them on a plate as Ollie gets them both something to drink before they both go to the living room and sit on the couch.

“These are so good.” He mumbles, catching a crumb before it can fall. “You say that everytime.” “Because it’s true! These are really good.” Her brownie was a good bit smaller than his so as soon as she finishes her, she’s standing up and retrieving something from her suitcase, ignoring him asking where she’s going.

Sitting back down, she places a box in his lap.

“What is this?” He asks, setting the plate on the coffee table, only a few crumbs on it. “I bought it for you a while ago and have been carrying it around since, just wasn’t sure when exactly I’d give it to you.” He looks at her intrigued, before looking back at the box and carefully opening it.

Ollie’s brows furrow at the thin chain that rests inside. It was nice, very nice, though not by a brand that he recognized. It was also a weird gift considering he didn’t wear necklaces, though if he was going to wear one, it would be this one.

“What’s it for?” He asks. “I, uh,” she stutters a bit over her words, playing her ring before carefully pulling it off, flexing her fingers at the odd sensation of it not being there. “It’s for this.” And she drops the ring she’s worn since she was eleven into his palm. “But this is yours.” “And I can’t wear it anymore.” She tells him. “I intended to wait longer to have sex, but I don’t regret last night and I won’t regret anything we do in the future. It’s yours now and I kind of liked the idea of you carrying it with you wherever you go.” He stares at the ring, tries to ignore the pulse of want and smugness, because he got to have her first and he was fairly certain he’d be her only and last.

Lifting the chain out of the box, he carefully unclasps it, threading the ring on, before clasping it around his neck, the ring resting just below the hollow of his neck, easily hidden behind any shirt he wears if he has it tucked in.

Turning his neck, the sensation of something there is odd and he says that. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I like it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take him long to get used to the necklace and he practically never takes it off, only in the shower or when doing certain training sessions and it hasn't happened yet but when he has to get into the F1 car and then his F2 car, he’ll be taking it off then as well.

No one really notices his new accessory, he’s not doing much on social media, his mum and dad had asked him about it and he had flushed but just said that it was something she had gotten for him and lucky they didn’t press for more. It gives a false sense of security that comes crashing down in Mexico.

He’s on a bit of a high for doing his first free practice and not placing dead last even though it’s only free practice and placing doesn’t really matter. He’s out of his race suit, having been able to not shower but wipe himself down with a damp towel before getting back into the Haas polo and jumping in to do more media. And as he does some interviews he doesn’t notice the way her ring that’s kept underneath his shirt is on full display.

But it does come to his attention when he finally gets his phone and sees so many mentions and a strange text full of exclamation marks that has him quickly hitting the call button.

“Is everything okay? I got a weird text from you.” “Ollie.” “What’s wrong?” He’s about to exit the Haas hospitality, he could be at Red Bull’s in about a minute at the strained sound of her voice. “My ring, everyone saw my ring.” His eyes widen and he’s cursing. “Oh no.” “Yeah.” “And they all know.” “Yeah.” She confirms again. “Because Max had to make it clear what the ring was.” She laughs, but it’s clear that she’s on the verge of tears, her voice tight. The sound has him wanting to wrap in his arms, shield her away, but it also has him confused. She never cared about what fans thought of her. She was very much like her brother in that matter. It was all water off a duck’s back. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, dropping his voice as someone looks at him weirdly. “I just, Max hadn’t noticed, no one has really. And I don’t regret it Ollie, but that was a promise I made to Max, to save myself.” The last three words come out as a whisper. “And now he’s going to find out because the whole of F1 twitter is talking about it. I should’ve told him.” “It’ll be okay.” He reassures her, but now the realization has hit that he’s going to have deal with Max and not just Max, but Daniel and Charles and fucking Arthur, which is a bit insulting because it’s Arthur of all people, but the Leclerc’s liked her a lot, Charles liked to argue with Max that she was actually their younger sister and not Max’s, which lead to a headache of bickering between the two drivers.

“Can I come to you?” He looks down at his watch even though he knows that he doesn’t have any more interviews, just needs to stay to watch the last session play out since he already did his debriefing as well. “Yeah, do you want me to walk you over?” “No, I’ll be there in a second.”

Meeting her at the doors of the hospitality, he quickly ushers her in before leading her to a back corner, the both of them sinking to the floor, somewhat hidden from view by a couch.

“You alright?” “Yeah.” She breathes, pressing close to him. “I just should’ve said something to Max. I just didn’t want to say anything y’know?” And he can feel her nose wrinkle at the idea and his does the same. Because yeah it was a bit gross to think about telling your sibling that you’ve had sex just so they won’t be blindsided by the media. “He’s gonna hate me again.” She doesn’t say anything and he groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I just made some progress with him.” “I know, bear.” She murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I could put it back on? Say that I gave it to you as a good luck charm.”

It’s a good idea, a perfect solution for their problem, but it’s clear that she doesn’t like the idea and he doesn’t like the idea either. He’s grown used to the small weight of the ring resting below the hollow of his throat and he’s not fond of the idea of seeing a ring that’s not his on her ring finger again.

“Maybe I should propose.” She jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly says. “I just I don’t want to give it back. I don't want to see you wearing it again and I just,” he waves his hands around. “My brain was running. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are focused on his and she slowly presses back into him, though she keeps her head pulled back so they can look at each other. “Is that something you really want in the future? To be married to me?” “One hundred percent.” She blinks at the quick response, a smile starting to bloom on her face. “Not now, just because I don’t want to rely on nothing but sponsors and my dad for money, but maybe once I got an F1 seat and then got a contract extension or new seat. I’d have money to help support us, to buy you a nice ring, house.” He hopes that she can’t tell how much he’s thought about this, how much he’s rambled to both Jak and Fred about this even though if either of them got the chance they’d happily rat him out for being such a preteen girl, and he just knows that Jak told Fred what that means. “I want that too.”

Ollie wonders if him intending on marrying her, on putting a ring on her finger will lessen the brunt of anger he’s sure to receive and it doesn’t.

“You defiled my sister!” The eighteen years old both make a face at the Dutch man’s words. “No one defiled anyone.” Max ignores her, glaring at the British driver. “You touched her.” Ollie nearly reaches out for her hand, but keeps his hands to himself, as he gives a tiny nod. “Max, it’s alright. I wanted it.” Max and Daniel both make a face at her words. “Ew. You shouldn’t even know what it is.” “Well, Max kind of ruined that for me when I was eleven.” She snarks and her brother flushes. “Which is why I gave you the ring! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! Keep yourself away from boys like Ollie!” “What’s wrong with me?” He asks, offended. “You’re a teenager.” Daniel tells him with a shrug. “And you’ve got a dick. That’s all it really takes.”

“What happened to waiting?” Max asks, voice a little quieter as he looks at her. “Max,” she starts and then includes the Alpha Tauri driver who’s inched closer. “Daniel. I thought I was going to wait for marriage, or at least a few more years, but Ollie,” she pauses, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Ollie feels like the one.” She reaches out for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “And even if he isn’t, I won’t regret what we did.”

The two older men stare at her, at them. One who can remember holding her just hours after she was born, and the other who got to know her shortly after Max’s fuck up when she was eleven. Both her brothers, one just a bit longer than the other.

Max swallows harshly, the full realization hitting him that his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. She’s an adult and he’s never really had the right to get mad at her for things she does but he really doesn’t now. He can feel Daniel standing behind him, and knows that the older man will go with him whatever way he chooses.

Stepping forward, he pulls her into a hug and wonders where the time has gone. “As long as you don’t regret it, yeah?” She hugs him back tighter, tension in her shoulders loosening at his acceptance. “Yeah. Love you, Maxy.” He laughs, a quiet thing. “Love you too.”

@arshiyuh @mangotaitai @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy

[kit-the-gaygent]

Some nights Mc can't sleep. They sit in bed bored out of their mind, just hoping to feel the tiniest twinge drowsy. But they dont. So they lay in bed.

They wonder how the brothers are sleeping, even though it's only a short walk to check on them.

Lucifer is hopefully in bed, or at least doing his rounds, making sure everyone is safe. Maybe he's giving Cerberus his late night treats and giving the three headed good boy a good satisfying scratch behind the ears.

Mammon is definitely in bed, probably stark naked, lazily wrapped in blankets, dreaming about his next money scheme, or a new way to hang out without admitting how much he cares. Or perhaps he's sneaking back in from the casino, tip toeing across the floors back to his room. Maybe he got caught and is getting lectured by Luci.

Levi is definitely awake, trying out a new game, or bingong a show. Mayhaps he's waiting for a pre-order to launch, or just talking to Henry. It's possible he's actually a sleep for once, snug in his bathtub, hugging his Ruri Hana body pillow close but the chances of that are slim.

Satan is hopefully resting, dreaming of cats, or ways to prank Lucifer. Or a combination of the two. Maybe he's reading, driving off with each word. Though it's likely he got stuck under a book avalanche and has just gotten comfortable, reading his way out.

Asmodeus isn't back from the club yet, and is partying hard. Getting up close and lovey with someone for just tonight. Or maybe he's starting his stuff in a new outfit while working out a new fashion line. However, he's probably finished his night time routine a long while ago and is perfectly situated under his covers in his large plush bed, sleeping mask gently settled over his eyes as he gets his beauty sleep.

Beel is dreaming of all the food he could want, or maybe trying to sneak his way to the kitchen for a quick snack. Or maybe he's working out, getting a few curls in before he hits the hay for the day and goes to rest.

Belphie has been sleeping, and will continue to roam the land of dreams, waiting for his brother to join him. The only thing to wonder is where he's drifted off. In his bed, in some tiny nook somewhere, or on the planetarium. He could be in the attic, or even in his twin's bed. All that matters is that he's deep in slumber and cozy wherever he may be.

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pulling out), alcohol, dick (being a slut), frats (?)

dick grayson had a questionable reputation on campus. playboy, daddy’s money, beer pong champ, finance bro, and the king of hookups and god does everybody he’s been with know. there’s a reason all of his previous partners shoot him 2am texts asking what he’s doing.

but tonight he has his eyes on you.

loud music blasts in the frat house that feels awfully tiny with the mass of half naked people who are standing and grinding inside of it, random strobe lights are placed in all corners and the theme of "save a horse, ride a cowboy" is obnoxiously obvious with random cowboy hats hanging on walls and flannels being worn by everyone.

you were dragged by your friends to attend this party, one of which you’d never attend, knowing the man-whore personality of the house you’re standing in right now.

you’re leaned against a counter, solo cup of jungle juice in your hand as you’re buzzed, but still aware enough to know you still don’t want to be here.

the only thing giving it away is your bored expression—because your shorts that are uncomfortably too short, the tied flannel, and cowboy hat on your head tell a different story.

people watching was fun at parties, the outfits, the who’s talking to who, and the who’s dragging who upstairs was entertaining to your tipsy self.

your eyes didn’t spot the ravennette who was familiar with everybody coming towards your way till he was beside you, his body heat radiating onto yours and his breath against your neck as he tries to talk to you.

and the appeal of the man wasn’t hard to understand. he’s wearing a white crop top that his abs are peaking out of, an open flannel and jean shorts that show his quads beautifully.

everyone thought the man was hot, but to be attracted to him was another thing.

"can’t tell if you look lost or don’t wanna be here anymore," the smell of liquor too apparent in his breath that touches your neck, making you slowly meet his blue eyes and obnoxious smirk.

you only raise a brow, scoffing and leaning into his ear now. "don’t wanna be here," you say, leaning back on the counter.

and if anybody knows dick, you know he gets what he wants, and tonight his eyes are on you and your pretty tits that are held up by a push-up bra that you obviously wore for him, he just knows it.

he leans over again, this time snaking an arm around your back and moving his fingers along the exposed skin. "c’mon, i gotta room upstairs that’s practically sound proof." and honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him. the man has money to spend, and maybe he did soundproof his single in his frat house, just because he can. or, maybe he says that so that you can scream and his brothers can fist bump him in the morning. who knows?

but your mind is a little hazy and your speech a little slurred and dick’s arm doesn’t feel awful around you, so you lean in again, this time with a grin playing on your lips. "what’s in it for me?"

dick’s eyebrow arched, his smirk upturned and his hand tightening around your back at the question.

"wanna find out?"

and a few more teasing words of banter were said, a shot thrown down both of your throats, and a few inappropriate gropes placed on your body before he had your hand in his, leading you up stairs shamelessly while smiling at his friends on the way.

dick’s door closes with a kick of his foot, not locking it because… why would he? he doesn’t care if somebody walks in on the two of you.

when he turns around and you’re sitting on the bed for him, he’s grateful you’re wearing skimpy clothes, less hassle and easier access. he can only smirk, asking himself how dumb you are, you obviously dressed like this for him.

the man walks over, kicking his shoes somewhere in the dark room and slipping his flannel off, his biceps seem bigger than they did in your finance class you had with him last semester. his hands are big, veiny and long and fuck they feel good when he cups your face, looking down at you and moving his knee to spread open your thighs.

his thumb moves to your bottom lip, pressing the soft skin until you open your lips all pretty for him, taking his thumb in your mouth and sucking.

"good girl," he says, the hand that’s not cupping your cheek going down to unbutton his jean shorts.

then, dick takes a step back, slipping his thumb from between your lips and moving to the other side of the bed, sitting down and looking at you expectantly. "c’mon, show me more of your pretty self," he leans back on the heel of his hands, his broad chest sticking out and his lap looking like the perfect seat right now.

and all you can do is nod with wide eyes and listen to the man who was slowly but surely talking his way into your pants.

his dark blue eyes watch as you rid yourself of the cowgirl boots you were wearing. he licks his lips when you take your flannel off, eyes darting down to your hands that fumble to take your shorts off. you stand there with your cowboy hat sitting on your head and dick chuckles, "you’re doing real good with the theme, y’know?" he slurs.

you roll your eyes, "not proud of it," you slur right back, stepping forward while placing your knees on either side of his hips, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in.

"i’ll make you proud," dick says, his big hands resting on your hips, fingers playing underneath your thong that should just be considered a string at this point.

he leans forward, biting your bottom lip enough to make you whimper before he attacks your lips, forcing his tongue in and kissing you sloppily. saliva coating both your lips, threatening to spill out by how feverish his force is, his hand pushing you against his cock that’s already hard. and jesus you’re glad you wore the stringy panties you decided on because the feeling of him—even through the shorts he’s still wearing is painfully delicious.

you pull back, eyes half lidded and view not as straight as a sober persons, "gonna make me wait?" and maybe if you were sober the quickness of dick’s moves would seem normally paced, but he was quick to push you off of him to the side of his bed and throw his shorts to the side, followed by his boxers. all he’s wearing is a little white crop top and fuck he looks real good.

he’s toned and defined beautifully. not jacked like some guys are, letting it know that they’re juiced up. no, dick was the most naturally beautiful man to exist. (unfortunately, you weren’t the first to realize that… and definitely won’t be the last).

you lean back on your palms this time, watching him walk over to you painfully slow, his cock hardened all for you. "take a picture, it’ll last longer," he smirks, climbing on top of you while pushing you down and letting your legs wrap around his waist that feels so small in comparison to his broad shoulders. he takes your cowboy hat off, setting it to the side because that will definitely come back up.

you roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, arms wrapping around him and lips reconnecting again. the man is quick to arch your back off the bed, one finger sliding behind you to unclip your bra—which almost feels sickening how fast he was to do so—but your brain doesn’t let that register with the alcohol in your bloodstream.

dick remembers your words from earlier, gonna make me wait? and next thing you notice when you look down is your bra thrown on the ground and dick’s lips on your stomach, kissing down with hands on either side of you on the mattress until he’s sat at your pussy that’s embarrassingly wet for him.

"next party’s on thursday, you should come out," he starts while tugging your panties to the side with a curl of his index finger. "dress real pretty for me again."

and dick says that to every girl, sometimes giving a hint on what he wants them to wear, knowing once he hits, he will always quit and find the next person untouched by him.

"i’ll think about it," you say, broken into a whimper as his lips are quick to suck on your clit and his index and middle finger plunge into your wetness. if the music wasn’t booming from downstairs, maybe the sounds of your wetness would be more embarrassing, but dick just thought it was hot and your moans were real pretty.

and again, if you were sober, you’d probably arch a brow at the minimal time dick stayed down there, but you weren’t and were real hungry for him to fill you up.

"show me what the hype’s about," you say as he climbs up to you, one arm beside your head and one groping one of your breasts enough to illicit small whines from your throat. "i’ll see if you can handle it," he says cockily, voice dripping in ego as the hand that’s groping your breasts goes down to line his cock up with your hole.

in one quick motion he’s filling you up, your back arching off the bed and a loud pitched moan leaving your lips with eyes squeezed shut. dark blue eyes watch your face, cocky smirk not leaving his lips for a minute until he’s sucking on your neck. dick is shameless, he’s purposely leaving marks wherever he wants on your body, knowing he won’t let you do the same even if you tried.

the man above you is going to make sure you remember him fucking you, even if it’s just by you waking up with blotches on your neck and chest in the morning.

"too much?" he asks teasingly, showing no remorse with the deep groans he spills out with every time he fills you up. and dick is girthier than you thought he’d be, everytime he pushes into you feels like the first no matter how wet you are. it feels like he’s ripping you open with the hard and fast pace he’s maintaining.

an answer to his question is impossible, the only sounds are moans and whimpers, more so when his lips are on yours. your sounds mixed together are delicious to your ears and you pull him closer, sweaty body’s and breath tasting like liquor feels intoxicating.

he flips you both over with ease, his toned back resting on his mattress and pillow with you on top now. a loud groan escapes your lips, his full length filling you up but from another position was brutal at first. dick gave you a few more seconds to adjust before his big hands guided your hips up.

"you got it baby," his voice is low and full of desire, blue eyes taking over your frame that feels made for him. one hand comes off your skin to grab the cheesy cowboy hat and he motions for you to put it on with a shit eating grin.

coming to realization, you roll your eyes, "really?" you ask, rolling your eyes with a small laugh. but you put it on, and then fall back onto dick, riding him slowly and at an angle that makes him hit the spot deep inside of you repetitively. "fuck, fuck, fuck," you moan, your eyes closing and neck thrown back from the delicious feeling.

while dick is groaning, he can only smirk up at you, knowing he’s getting exactly what he wanted when he chose the theme for the party that night. "you look so fuckin’ good, riding me so good, yeah?" he’s verbally and physically fucking you at this point.

"takin’ this cock so good, baby," he groans, feeling himself twitching and turning you back over again, so he’s on top when he finishes.

in no time dick’s pulling out to spill his cum all over your lower abdomen, chuckling to himself as he pulls off of you and looking down. it’s his favorite view, flushed red cheeks, chest heaving up and down (making your breasts look even more delicious), and his cum painting your sweaty body.

if he was feeling more like an asshole, he’d ask to take a picture. but he knew you were a nice girl from one of his past semesters and decided not to be a total dick.

"you look good," he says it like it’s a reminder, like you’re already supposed to know—because why else would you be in dick grayson’s bed if you weren’t hot? and he walks away, going to the bathroom that’s connected to his room and returning with a wash cloth, cleaning you up with a laugh. "i’m leaving after this," you say, wiping your lips with the backside of your arm.

and dick let’s out an internal sigh of relief at that, he hates when girls are insistent on spending the night or staying for more of the party, latched to him. "fine by me, want me to get an uber?" he asks, throwing the rag to the side and sitting there for another second, looking at your fucked out state—the one he put you into.

you nod your head, sitting up in the bed, knowing if you stay with spread legs that dick will attempt a round two before the car he’s called you gets here. "wanna hand me my clothes?" you ask, not as slurred of words as before, the fucking sobering you up slightly.

"y’don’t wanna borrow a shirt?" because dick has a drawer full of old shirts from varying events on campus that he gives to his hookups, another reminder to everyone else that he’s the one who fucked you good tonight.

"fuck no," you roll your eyes, moving to get your clothes yourself and slipping them on as dick slips his boxers and shorts on, staring at you as you get dressed from the ledge of his bed.

the clothes weren’t as comfortable as what could’ve been a comfortable and baggy shirt, but you were trying to move as quick and invisible as possible out of the party and to the uber that just rang its arrival on dick’s phone. "it’s here," he says, standing up beside you and wrapping a hand around your waist. "sure you don’t wanna spend the night?"

"positive," the exact answer he knew he was going to get.

"this was fun," he says, leaning into you slightly. "you have my number, i’m always available," if it wasn’t dick, that sentence would’ve been cringey and gross, but his voice sounded too good right now and you nodded. "i’ll keep that in mind."

his hand moves to your cheek, tilting it to press a kiss to your face. "i’ll follow you out," which was code for you to leave and close the door behind you as dick freshens up.

and now you understand. dick knew how to fuck.

[c4ttheart]

closer , sae itoshi

half proofread bc it’s 2am 🙁 (no this is not based on that one chainsmoker song)

you always talk about your day, blabbering on and about. he has heard it all, the meals you ate, how you made them, the shape of the moon through your tiny bathroom window because it’s the only one you can see the moon from in your appartement, your outfit and how different people reacted to it and how you always manage to stub your toe on that one desk corner at work.

sometimes sae wonders why you love him- you could talk for hours on end and he’d only listen. often, his mind wanders down treacherous routes, all leading to thoughts of you. how come you aren’t bored yet ?

he knows you like physical touch. he never really minded it, not when it came from you, and he feels bad because the last time you saw him in the flesh was way too long ago for his liking (almost a month). you stay up until ungodly hours just for him, just to hear his muffled ‘mhms’ through the phone. sae never even calls first; you do everything: the talking, the calling, maybe even the loving.

do you doubt if sae loves you ? because he does, and he wishes he could say it, but the words get stuck in his throat whenever he tries to make them come to life. it’s not like he can really place a word when you’re talking, the blabbermouth that you are, but he doesn’t mind. he knows you do that so he doesn’t have to answer. you know what time his practice finishes at and you wake up everyday just to call him. you knew what you were doing when you accepted his confession, and it makes sae feel bad.

he doesn’t know what to do, or how to act. sure, he’s dated people before (he will argue with his life that the girlfriend he had in primary school counts), but no one was as good to him as you. you’re so kind, and so sweet, and when you hang up after a while he stares at his ceiling and wonders why you stay with him.

having a one sided relationship sucks. everybody knows that, you know that, and when your friends tell you to drop him you just laugh because it’s not a one sided relationship, it never will be.

sure, sae never calls first, or texts first, or a lot of other things- heck, sometimes he doesn’t even answer verbally when you talk through the phone. it’s fine, you just hope his ear doesn’t fall off each time. maybe sae doesn’t tell you that he loves you, or does the boyfriend shit you see on tiktok, but you know he cares.

if he didn’t, he wouldn’t pick up the phone on the first ring, wouldn’t listen to the entirety of your five minutes voice messages in 1x speed, wouldn’t wait for you to hang up and just do it himself. sae tells you he loves you when you receive a package with those boots you tried on once at a store (and sent sae a very cheesy picture with them) but didn’t buy them because even though they were cute the price wasn’t worth it. he tells you he loves you when you tell him you’re hungry on your way home and as soon as you arrive a clueless uber eats guy is standing in front of your door. he tells you he loves you when he’s half asleep and he accidentally reveals that he listens and remembers your gossip by butting in the conversation with a question involving the tea from a month ago.

and you know you love him when he does all of the above and never once talked to you about love. you know you love him when you find a packed pretty diamond ring from your favourite jewellery brand somewhere inside his closet when you come over. you definitely know you love him when he holds you close like a starved man, burying his head in the crook of your shoulder- he missed you so much. (the feeling is mutual, but his ego is already higher than the soaring rockets they sent to the moon some time in the 1900’s)

« you’re heavy! » you say, jokingly, because he actually isn’t but he doesn’t have to know. it isn’t common for him to be this clingy, and you think that if he doesn’t stop you’ll feel like you’re in highschool again: young, dumbstruck, and utterly in love.

he just hums in response. you’re used to it, and you would be upset if he wasn’t pulling you closer to his chest in a sae way that screams ‘i love you.’

you just smile, until the quirks of your mouth reach your eyes and until you’re sure he can feel it too, the intensity of your happiness. and for once, you stay silent, letting him do the talking with the way he grabs your waist.

maybe sae itoshi never got the best boyfriend award (and he probably never will), but it’s fine, because you are a version of yourself that molds perfectly with the puzzle piece that is itoshi sae. and he likes that, he loves the talkative and dramatic person that you are. you just wished he knew how much you loved his hot headed and attentive enigma too.

wrote this instead of my economics project that i had 3 months to do 👍 hope u enjoyed

[poppy-metal]

fail marriage when ur hella ovulating and you’re lonely and you miss him and you’re only separated, he’s still your husband really, so you call art. you tell him,”we don’t need to work anything out today. we don’t even have to talk. i just want to feel you. i miss touching you. i’m lonely. hang up if you’re coming over.”

you hear the line go dead and ring in your ear. you smile softly. he’s still your art. he still answers your call within one ring. he still wants you without thinking. he still needs you without caring what it means or if it will hurt him. you feel bad, guilty, but you feel so good to have him. when he knocks on your door, that special rap, you’re already waiting and open it. he spills through it, sweeping you up in his arms, embracing you before he even thinks about anything sexual.

“i love you.”

he says it without meaning to.

“i love you.”

“i love you.”

“i love you.”

“i love you.”

and it goes on like that. neither one of you can leave the others confession unsatisfied, unrequited. as you kissed with tongue and entire mouth, as you shed layer after layer of clothes and struggled around each other into the bedroom of your tiny apartment (normally, art was furious you lived here at all, furious you felt you should have to pay for yourself. he would pay for a bigger place, begged you to get somewhere in a safer part of town on his dime, but you wouldn’t hear it. quietly and graciously, you denied him more of you.) as you tugged and clawed and groaned and entered each other you chanted your mantra. i love you. all that shit that broke you up, none of it mattered tonight. none of it. you were his and he was yours and tonight, nothing would change that. i love you, the only true thing in the world, just for one night. and another night. and another and another and another.

u want me dead......

Its so evil of her too, it's like shes testing to see if it really is true that he wants her that badly - if he'll let her use him and hurt him by giving him her body but not her heart - art has always wanted to be a martyr for those he loves, always lets his love abuse him - and its sick you'd do that to him when you remember how he'd brought it up in therapy, back when you'd tried therapy together, how he felt like he was never good enough, but he was kind of addicted to that feeling - because its what kept him chasing for more, more, more, even if he suffered.

you'd never wanted to make your husband suffer. never in your whole time together had you wanted to inflict pain. but maybe thats where you went wrong with eachother. each of you unwilling to inflict pain on the other, unwilling to take risks, to dig your claws in, to demand things and hurt and be loud and messy and raw.

you want to hurt him now. you want to take his love and abuse it, put it to the test, push its limits to see how strong it really is - its why you walked away in the first place. nothing was gonna change between you without carnage. you'd both suffered too long in the silence of your quiet wanting for anything else to bring you back together.

you dont know how long you plan to drag it on for - how long you'll keep pushing and pushing him. until he breaks, maybe?

you're getting close to that point when you invite him over - allow him to touch you and pour confessions into your lips - but you keep your own lips tightly sealed. even if you echo it back everytime in your head, when he kisses down your body, between your legs and you almost say it, almost gasp it when his tongue rolls your hot clit in his mouth. the words are on the tip of your lips, ready to pitch over when he makes you cum around his fingers knuckle deep inside you - you're grateful when he licks into your mouth before they flow out - moan against him instead as you shatter apart in his arms, clenching and clenching around him.

"there, baby, there. cum for me - you're so beautiful, fuck - i missed this. i miss you, i love you -" and you kiss him this time, to shut him up.

your body wants his. it wants to take his cock inside her and wrap legs around him and never let him go - you want to kiss between his legs, suck him between your lips and worship him back with long pulls of your throat - you want to sink down on him, feel him stretch you out - you want him to take you roughly, push you back and yank your legs apart and growl and snarl at you for leaving him. fuck you with punishing snaps of his as he reminds you why you're meant for eachother.

but he gasps, "please. let me-"

and you come back to yourself. make yourself go cold instead of melting warm.

you push him away again, pretending the wounded fawn look he gives, he's always been such an open bleeding wound, doesn't affect you.

"you should go." you tell him instead.

you hear him inhale sharply. see suprise, and loss, and hurt and, most startilingly - anger, flash in his blue eyes. they darken. you swallow, your breath catching as you watch eachother.

he clenches his jaw. he obviously wants to push back. but he just looks away, and jerks his chin in a nod. dejected - "yeah, okay."

you deflate.

you dont look up when you hear the door close. empty fucking apartment. you'll probably cry yourself to sleep at night.

and tomorrow you'll be back to pushing. always pushing. something has to give, eventually.

[vhstown]

miles morales x you headcanons

— 1610!miles x gn!reader (friends to lovers)

warnings: just fluff lol (miles is a dork)

note: normal spider-man au, a little tiny bit long. v self indulgent and oddly specific but i tried to keep them in character + inclusive 😭 wrote this at 3am, somewhat edited

For context, you were Miles' first real friend at Brooklyn Visions. You kept running into each other, and he had a strong liking to you after you helped him escape the wrath of the hall monitors without question. Becoming fast friends, Miles is quickly involved in every part of your life at the academy, and he even more quickly develops a crush on you. Luckily for you, he completely forgets about the shoulder touch. The man has no game when he's around you, his best friend, though it's not like he needs to.

Miles draws you a lot, to the point where it's almost obsessive. You're in his sketchbook, class notes, a loose scribble on the back of a receipt. You have your hair different one day and he scrambles to capture it somewhere without you noticing. He has it down to a science, and he tries to convince himself it's absolutely normal to be able to draw you perfectly from memory.

When you find out, he wants a portal to open up and swallow him whole. It's more endearing than anything, though. It's not like you haven't been stealing glances of his portraits in the middle of class anyway.

You may or may not tease him relentlessly about it, but eventually, you get comfortable whenever he slips out his favourite pencil and you pretend not to catch his subtle, studying glances.

Miles loves his headphones, sure. He begged his mom to get them for him ages ago, promising he'd put them to good use. They're basically glued to his ears, that is, unless he's talking to you. He always takes them off, listening intently to whatever you have to say, even if you're making small talk or just saying hi.

Sharing music with you is always at the back of his mind until he finally caves and buys a pair of wired earphones. It becomes routine to listen to something together whenever you hang out, pulled a little closer to each other by the wire playing Sunflower between you.

And yes, he made you a playlist. He's definitely embarrassed about it at first, and listens to it a number of times beforehand to make sure you'd like it. It's full of songs that make him think of you and ones you expressed interest in. He's definitely overthought it, but it's worth your reaction and seeing the Spotify like count increase to one. He listens to it more than you do, though.

Miles is nervous about telling his mom about you. About the both of you. Yeah, he's already told her every detail of you and your life, but he's scared of what she'd think of meeting you in person; it's not like she's hyperaware of the boy she's known for all his life suddenly changing when you're brought up, right? Rio is definitely a mama bear, even if Miles gets the brunt of it sometimes, but when he brings you over for the first time you feel more than welcome. Miles' mom and dad are constantly whispering to each other during dinner trying to make you feel comfortable, and you catching one of Rio's half-scowls at her husband when he asks a stupid question. Either way, there are hugs and kisses at the door, and you leave with your heart and your stomach full. They might just be your new parents. (Maybe in the future?)

Miles definitely helps you with school when he can, especially with more technical subjects. He always drops everything when you message him with a math problem or right before your science finals. He's up on call with you til the sun's up, the both of you questioning your sanity and basic reason when it's really just an excuse to spend time with each other (though the circumstances are unideal.) You send him your English essay to read over one day and he painstakingly looks through it to find things to compliment you on; he has no idea what you're talking about.

And calls with you are one of his guilty pleasures. When he's sure Ganke's not paying attention or his mom's checked his room for the last time, he drops you a hopeful message. You're tired, but you find yourself justifying each time you call until 3 in the morning, talking about the same couple of things. He likes hearing about your day, where you've been, what hilarious or strange thing happened in your classes. He likes hearing your voice most of all; it's even more comforting when it's muffled by sleep and your thoughts come out in jumbled repetitions of the same thing. One day, you fall asleep on call. Miles doesn't bother to decline it, pulling his blanket over him and letting his eyes close to the sound of your breathing.

When the two of you actually get together, he's even more nervous than he was bringing you over for the first time. His brain short-circuits when you say you like him back, and he just says "yeah" or nods to everything you say. He can't believe you like him. Outside of being Spider-Man, he's a bit of a nobody (he just likes keeping to himself). Not to you, though. You're his only other friend besides Ganke (more like the sneaker thief) at Brooklyn Visions, and now he's yours. Despite the ample advice from his uncle, he misses your first kiss. (You try again after a lot of laughter and it's all okay when he gets used to it.)

But... he might be getting too used to it. In fact, now that he knows you're okay with the scary concept of kissing, he's always holding your hand, brushing away strands of your hair, even just holding onto your sleeve by his fingertips. Miles always steals kisses, especially before he runs off to his class on the other side of the academy (he insists on walking you to yours. Yes, he's been late multiple times.) You swear you'll get him back for those one-sided kisses, but the debt piles up, and you eventually get used to it too.

When he hasn't seen you in a while (after slinking off for his friendly neighborhood duties), he pulls you into the most enveloping, bone-crushing hug. His head is pressed into your shoulder and arms almost double-wrapped around your torso like he hasn't seen you in years. It feels like he could pick you up, no matter how much you insist he'll never be able to lift you. It gives you a strange sense of security, and you never question why someone of his stature could probably throw you like a tennis ball.

Though, when you do manage to show him affection before he slips away, he totally melts at your touch. It's like his crush forms all over again, like it's your first kiss all over again. You like to bombard him with love just to see him go quiet and flustered and hear that very specific laugh he's had since his crush formed. He likes having you close, no matter what you're doing. Even if you're both on your phones, he always lets you lean against him or has an arm around you. When you catch him off guard with a little peck on the face, you notice him frantically looking through his home screen like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

You'll get him back one day. Until then, you'll chase him around the whole of Brooklyn if you have to. He's happy to be caught, even happier to be your boyfriend. Maybe one day he'll even give you his drawings of you. Or his entire sketchbook, it's basically all just you. Recently, it's been made up of your smiles. Maybe he'll just keep the sketchbook for himself.

🕸️💫🎧

thank you for reading ^^ this is my first post so any suggestions wld be appreciated. this is my secondary blog so i can't reply but feel free to drop an ask! (not taking requests atm)

read the rest of my atsv headcanons here!

[ghostaholics]

I’m laughing so hard with the enemies with benefits trope, it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.What if she gets badly hurt during a mission, and ends up unconscious for days, and Ghost stays by her side waiting for her to wake up and when she does, instead of a heartwarming conversation they instantly start to insult each other

The amount of time it took for them to stabilize her had been... long.

Too long.

So long, in fact that they'd had to resuscitate her twice during transport and somewhere in between their (inadequate, by his standards) attempts at life-saving measures and him taking over compressions (he'd bullied his way onto the carrier, of course, much to the displeasure of the rest of the medical flight personnel and was the only one willing to continue even after they'd seriously considered calling the time of death), there was a brief moment where he'd really thought she wasn't going to make it. And for exactly 34 minutes, he'd kept thinking to himself what a goddamn shame it'd be to lose her (not for himself, but for the 1-4-1, the good of the team, obviously). Except then they'd found her pulse again, faint and barely hanging on just under skin, albeit still there – thank-fucking-Jesus – and Simon had finally allowed himself to let out a sigh of breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding the entire time.

It's been about 72 hours since she was initially transferred to the trauma center by helo (or 71 hours and 53 minutes if he wants to get really technical, not that he’s keeping track). This surly, hulking beast of a man managed to fold himself into that tiny hospital chair – has a damn crick in his neck now, stiffness in his muscles from that pathetic excuse of a recliner. And he's had to camp out as a sniper for lengthy intervals before, slept on the ground or up against a fucking tree depending on the situation without complaint, so this should be any different, but he's had to shift positions frequently just to take the edge off because it's bothering him that much; Christ, the things he does for her.

And after waiting all this damn time, he's finally rewarded with some evidence of actual consciousness – the too-thin, threadbare hospital sheets stirring with movement out of the corner of his eye. Simon rises from his seat, completely neglecting his lunch (hadn't even really been able to eat properly until recently, because his appetite was pretty much shite after the whole cardiac arrest thing) and strides over to check on whether or not she's waking up.

She blinks, groggily, eyes adjusting to her surroundings and trying to place where exactly she is before a shadow passes over her line of vision and blocks the annoying fluorescent lights. It’s – oh.

Simon's face comes into view, peering down at her with an expression that she doesn’t quite recognize. This one’s new; she doesn’t have a name for it, but if she were to hazard a guess, it seems an awful lot like concern – or at least his version of whatever that may be. She watches him quietly. Her gaze isn’t as disoriented anymore and she tracks his hand, the way it comes up to cup her jaw, warm palm sliding over her skin in an invitation to lean into his touch.

“Really glad you woke up,” he murmurs, low but still loud enough to be heard over the rhythmic beeping of the bedside monitor. And Simon, being Simon, doesn't forget to add, “There's so many reports I've been waiting for you to sign off on.”

She closes her eyes with a small smile gracing her lips. Her voice is rough from disuse, but the sarcasm behind it is a familiar sound. “Wish I'd been out for longer. Was nice not having you nag my ear off – best damn sleep I've gotten in ages, y'know.”

[writingtraumaforever]

Courtship: Chapter 2

Notes: Here we go! Chapter 2! And ohhh boy, this is gonna be fun.

Summary: Shadow has been researching the courting rituals of the hedgehog. Sonic unknowingly initiates said rituals.

Chapter Select: Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Link to my AO3!

Start:

They’ve been meeting up for months now. 

Since the night Shadow and Sonic planned to meet at the Green Hills sign, they haven’t stopped scheduling rendezvouses. At the end of each of their races, the person deemed the winner— which is often argued over for far too long— chooses the next meeting spot and time.

Sonic picks the police department rooftop once, Shadow picks the rooftop of the ‘Bean Hill Zone’–previously known as Mean Bean, Sonic picks the back alley of the arcade, Shadow picks the mountaintop right past the town limits. Every spot had to be out of sight and discreet, Shadow having obvious anxiety over being seen or recognized. It kind of hurt Sonic’s heart seeing Shadow feel so… hated. 

Typically, their races would end with them arguing the winner and then picking their next spot before leaving. But they recently began to grow into more of a hangout afterwards. Shadow would stick around rather than rushing off or disappearing. He never seemed thrilled about being around Sonic, but he didn’t seem disgusted by the fact, either. So Sonic sees it as progress.

Honestly, Shadow isn’t half bad when he’s not trying to destroy the planet.

He’s kind of quiet. Very quiet, actually. But when he does talk, he has a lot of interesting things to say. Like stuff about the stars and constellations and patterns in the solar system and how they varied from others. He always seemed attentive when Sonic spoke about earth, too. He’d listen when Sonic would go on and on about his favorite locations around the world, about how chili dogs are man’s greatest creation, and how the Olympics had turned him down three times now to being a competitor–which he thought was discriminatory. 

He was also kind of funny! Which shocked Sonic, honestly. He didn’t really laugh. Ever. But he’d drop the most deadpan, dry humor jokes that always threw Sonic off and had him cackling which usually resulted in Shadow giving a tiny smirk and hum of humor, seeming proud of his joke. He got better with time, too. Seeming to pick up on pop culture references Sonic would teach him and use those to his advantage.

One time he told Sonic to check ebay for a life, and Sonic didn’t know what to do with that.

Speaking of pop culture, Sonic let Shadow borrow his old MP3 player! It was loaded with all sorts of good beats and genres. Shadow didn’t seem to like it at first, finding the headphones overwhelming in his ears. But Sonic told him he could play them through the speaker instead, and ever since, Sonic catches him humming tunes he recognizes now and then..

Once he swears he heard him humming ‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift, but he’ll never dare to ask or judge.

They take walks when they hangout, mostly. Slowing down to just trot through the woods or hike along the mountains and end somewhere that seems like a good enough view to chill. They don’t do this on purpose. It just sort of flows that way.

And while Shadow’s personality is a bit difficult to navigate at times.. Sonic enjoys his company. A lot. Maybe a little too much.

For a long while, he kept this a secret from his family under the guise that he was simply going out for a run. But when he stayed out a little too late one night and didn’t get home until 3 AM, Maddie and Tom were absolutely rampant with worry and demanded he be truthful with them. So he told them. Maddie seemed a bit shocked but open. Tom?? Tom seemed.. reluctant is a weak word for it..

‘I forbid you from seeing him anymore!’

‘Forbid me?? Like a disney villain??’

‘What he means is that we expect you to be more honest with us about who you’re hanging out with, but we trust your judgment.’

‘No. No, I mean forbid. It’s forbidden. It’s a rule. I just made it. Forbid.’

‘Thomas..’

‘Ow! Stop pinching my arm!’

‘This is so unfair! You haven’t even given him a chance, yet!’

‘I don’t need to give him a chance! Last I saw that little psycho, he had me pinned to the floor with a gun to my head declaring it justice!’

‘He was confused! He had been brainwashed into believing that revenge is what his sister wanted as her dying wish!’

‘Oh that poor baby..’

‘Baby!? Maddie– did you not hear what I just said???’

‘I know, Tom. I was there. And while it was traumatizing, I think Sonic is right. He deserves a chance. Knuckles had been manipulated and nearly annihilated Sonic when we first met him, too. And look at him now.’

‘..Okay, fine. A chance is one thing, but why does does that chance have to be one we give??’

‘Because he doesn’t have anyone else!... He’s lonely. And he doesn’t say it, but I think he’s scared a lot. He lost his family.. I think he just needs a friend. You can’t take me away from him.. I’m all he has.’

‘....Okay. Okay, I’m crazy for this, but okay. You can.. keep seeing Shadow.’

‘Ugh. Stop saying it like that. You make it sound like we’re dating–’

‘But I want to meet him, first. Man-to-hedgehog. He has to earn my trust and approval. Prove he’s changed.’

‘...Sure! Yeah, he’ll totally be down for that!’

“I am totally not down for that.”

“Whaaaat?? Come on, Shads–”

“Don’t call me that.” “--You gotta meet my folks, or they’ll like- forever be up my case.”

“I fail to see how that’s my problem.” “It’s your problem because that’ll make us hanging out wayyy more difficult. And you can act like that doesn’t bother you all you want, but I so know it does.”

Sonic is waltzing along the railing of a bridge in the woods, Shadow walking alongside him close enough to grab him if Sonic falls–not that Shadow cares.

He doesn’t.

Wobbling in his steps, Sonic continues when Shadow’s only response is a grunt, “What’ll it hurt?? It’s just my parents, they’re not gonna bite.”

“I don’t fear them..,” Shadow scoffs, arms crossed tight as he glares at Sonic, “I simply don’t need their approval.”

“Don’t think of it as approval. Think of it as.. Just getting to know new people! Mom definitely just wants to talk to you. Dad may have.. other intentions, but he’s harmless. Promise.”

“Anyone deemed the Lord of Donuts has to be harmless.” “Exactly! So what do ya say??”

Shadow doesn’t answer, just stops when Sonic hops down to land in front of him with that stupid grin. Shadow huffs a bit, looking off to the side rather than at Sonic. He can see how much this means to him in those big, bright emerald eyes, and it’s tiresome.

He’s never questioned why Sonic cares for these people when they aren’t his real family. He’s never questioned why Sonic stays with them despite not needing to to survive..

He knows for a fact he’d still be with Maria if given the chance..

No, this isn’t a matter of why Sonic cares so much about his family’s opinion. He’s been intrigued and honestly a bit refreshed seeing another hedgehog with a human family..

No, it’s why Sonic cares about their opinion of him that gets Shadow bothered.

Why does he need to be involved??

Though, he has his suspicions..

He’s been reading up on the courting rituals of hedgehogs. He was raised with humans, so he isn’t quite familiar with this part of his DNA’s customs. But from what the earth books have told him, and while Sonic isn’t the same as an earth hedgehog, it’s all he’s got to go off of.

And hedgehog’s pursue their potential mate. Challenge them. Chase them. Then they circle them to feel out their mate.. See if there’s a chance for matching with them..

All things Sonic seems to have done with Shadow.

Then there’s snorting. Where the pursuer will snort at their mate and see if they’ll snort back. Sonic often snorts when he’s joking with Shadow.. And Shadow has joked back in return..

And as far as human customs go when pursuing a mate… meeting one’s parents is definitely part of it. It’s often thought of as a more serious step, in fact.

Shadow has had his suspicions all along of what Sonic’s intentions were in searching him out and very persistently sticking around. This just confirms it.

And Shadow… Shadow has been enabling such courting rituals. He’s been participating. He’s agreed to numerous meetings with this hedgehog. He’s enjoyed their conversations and time together, and he’s not looking for them to end. He’s, in all aspects of the word, reciprocated Sonic’s advances.

So to turn Sonic down now?? It would be cruel, wouldn’t it?? And Shadow isn’t even sure he wants to turn Sonic down. He isn’t ready for any sort of relationship, absolutely not. He still has a lot of trauma he needs to work through, but having Sonic as a companion through it.. doesn’t sound horrible. He’d prefer it, actually. He thinks.

He can’t lose Sonic. He does know that.

And if meeting Sonic’s family formerly will allow them to continue this courting dance they’ve been partaking in to see where it goes, then so be it.

“Very well.”

Sonic blinks, “Wait- what?”

“I accept your invitation to meet your family.”

Sonic immediately grins, his tail wagging practically as fast as the hedgehog runs, “You mean it?” “Why would I say something I didn’t mean??” “Oh, thank you, Shadow!” Sonic jumps up and down excitedly, and Shadow can’t help but smile a tiny smile at the sight of his excitement, “You won’t regret it.” “We’ll see..”

And so Sonic went home to let his family know they’d be having a guest for dinner the upcoming Friday. Maddie seemed nervous-excited, immediately going on about how she’s going to cook up this fantastic dinner for him. Tom seems a on guard about this, but he’s also agreed to go into it with an open mind.

It’s his brothers Sonic really has to worry about.

“So.. why is Shadow coming over again??” Tails asks, spinning around in his chair with a tiny gadget and screwdriver in hand. Sonic has no idea what he’s working on, and he’s learned not to ask since he won’t understand ha;f the explanation anyway.

“Because he needs friends. And we can be those friends,” Sonic assures with a thumbs up.

“But.. he tried to destroy the world,” Tails argues with a knit in his brow, tilting his head at Sonic.

“And he broke my hand! My glorious hand..,” Knuckles adds, holding his fist up dramatically. 

Sonic sighs at this, rolling his eyes, “Yes, I know. And he’s sorry for those things.”

“I have not heard an apology from him,” the echidna huffs, arms crossed disapprovingly.

“That’s because you haven’t seen him since it happened,” Sonic replies, looking between this two misfit brothers, “Look. I know we all have history with him–” “Bad history.” “He scares me.” “Anyway, I also know we all can relate to him, huh??” Tails and Knuckles exchange unsure glances before Sonic is quickly moving to Tails, “Tails, buddy, you’ve felt out of place and alone in the world before! You know how awful it is.. How it can be hard to navigate the right direction without someone to guide you..” “That’s.. true..,” Tails agrees before giggling when Sonic ruffles the fur on his head. 

Sonic then dashes to Knuckles, throwing an arm around him and shaking him roughly, “And you, Knucklehead–”

Knuckles punches Sonic in the chest, making Sonic stumble back with a chuckle.

“I am nothing like that fiend–” “Know what it’s like to have something horrible rip you from your family and be manipulated into hurting others as a way to seek justice for them..”

Knuckles goes silent at that, opening his mouth only to close it again with a thoughtful hum.

“...I suppose that’s true,” Knuckles nods, seeming won over by Sonic’s point.

“Exactly! You too have fallen victim to a Robotnik before– we all have in some way. Everyone makes mistakes, right?? We just gotta recognize those mistakes and grow from them.. So what makes Shadow any different??”

Knuckles and Tails are both quiet a long moment, looking at Sonic, then down, then each other..

Both slowly smile, Knuckles speaking as he looks back to Sonic,

“Very well. We shall allow our rival one trial. But if he fails, I will not hesitate to destroy him before he has a chance to destroy our tribe again..” “Fair enough,” Sonic nods with a grin, looking to Tails who nods in agreement.

“I trust you, Sonic. If you say Shadow has changed, then he’s changed,” the kit beams confidently, full loyalty in his big brother. Though, his smile grows a bit nervous, “But just.. Maybe he can prove he’s changed from a distance?” “Sure thing, buddy! I’ll be between you two at all times if it’ll make you feel better.” “Much, thanks,” Tails breathes in relief.

Sonic grins at this, “Good. Glad we’ve all come to an agreement then. Wachowski bros gotta stick together, right??” “Yeah! Team Heroes!” Tails grins, putting his fist out only for Sonic to fist bump him with a, “Red, Blue and Yellow!?” to which Knuckles then joins the group fist bump with a unanimous, “Hello!”

They all laugh amongst each other for a moment.. Only for Sonic get dead serious once they get quiet again and add,

“Okay. Now we gotta talk about you guys not embarrassing me.”

[jtl-fics]

PREV

Aaron likes FF.

He’s a good friend to have and he’s been doing Aaron a huge favor this semester by tutoring Katelyn in German. He’d tried to tutor her but his teaching style and her learning had not been very compatible and it had been leading to some fighting between the two of them. Nicky had been the one to suggest that FF was a pretty good teacher and he wouldn’t take any sort of advantage of the inherent romantic setting of being a tutor (whatever the hell that meant).

FF was a good tutor.

Aaron liked to hang out while Katelyn and FF had their tutoring sessions and FF’s gaze never strayed down from Katelyn’s face when he was talking to her. He gave her German children’s books that he himself had used to better understand the written language and Aaron quite enjoyed the nights he spent over at Katelyns where she’d clumsily make her way through them as they were winding down for bed.

There were other things to like about FF.

He liked how FF could disagree with him without fighting with him. He liked how FF had the confidence to just leave any situation he didn’t like. He liked how FF sang to himself when he was distracted (he had a pretty good voice). He liked how FF could watch horror movies without blinking. He liked how he could sit in easy silence with FF and the two of them could just do their own thing. He liked how bad FF was at video games.

He liked how FF never confused Aaron for Andrew no matter what they were wearing or if they were aiming to confuse people. FF never said how he managed it when even Matt and Nicky got them confused every once in a while but FF never failed to know which twin he was talking to. He also played along when they were going about messing with the other non-FF freshmen by vacating the area instead of alerting anyone to them having switched.

(Aaron is completely unaware of an entirely uncomfortable talk that Nicky has had with FF where he asked FF how he could tell Andrew and Aaron apart. The answer was that initially Aaron always had a very tiny pen mark on his ear somewhere because he had a habit of putting his pen behind his ear. The answer in the long run was that they stood slightly differently and Andrew had a wrinkle that Aaron didn’t. Nicky had asked why FF was looking so closely at his cousins, “Well, I thought that Andrew might swap with Aaron at some point to lure me into a false sense of security and then he’d kill me.” FF answers unaware of why Nicky went still, “I realize now that Andrew isn’t like that.” FF had rushed to assure.

“Yeah…” Nicky had said awkwardly.

“Really, I honestly don’t think Andrew would pretend to be Aaron to kill someone.” FF had said again.)

The thing Aaron probably liked the most though was how happy his cousin was to have someone who was ‘his’ person. Andrew had Kevin and Neil, Aaron had Katelyn, and now Nicky had FF. They were hardly separate from the other Foxes nowadays and they roomed with Matt but there was always a difference for their group between ‘family’ and ‘friend’. FF was someone that Nicky had claimed as family and they had all agreed.

Aaron also enjoyed watching how Andrew and Neil both couldn’t fully comprehend how FF had ended up as Nicky’s when they had both made quite a few efforts. Nicky had always just shrugged and said that they’d understand when they were older before heading off to go see FF at Abby’s house as if the rest of them weren’t following right behind him.

FF was healing nicely and would be moving back into the dorms in the next week or so but he still spent a fair bit of time in Aaron’s room. He had heard Nicky talking to Wymack about possibly having him moved into their room which Aaron wouldn’t mind even if it mean that he’d have to do the ‘Smith Shout’ more frequently.

The ‘Smith Shout’ entails walking into rooms that you thought were empty but theoretically they could also contain FF. If you didn’t mind a minor heart attack later then you didn’t need to complete the ‘Smith Shout’ but if you were perhaps…interested in making out with your beautiful girlfriend?

The ‘Smith Shout’ was a must, they were all trying to get better about the levels of hanky and panky that FF was subjected to just because they failed to realize he was right there.

FF never made a big deal about it but it always felt embarrassing when they heard the click of the door as FF left the room they were making out in.

There was no need for the ‘Smith Shout’ today as FF was helping Katelyn with some basic vocabulary and going over conversations and pronunciation with her. Aaron was sitting nearby going over some micro-biology homework when they heard a door slam open down the hall, pounding foot steps, and then their door slammed open to reveal a pale-faced Kevin

“Kevin, what-“

Kevin shushed Aaron before he could ask what was wrong and came into the room and shut the door with shaking hands. His phone was held in his right hand so tightly that his knuckles were white from the strain.

“Lord Moriyama just called me.” Kevin said shaking badly enough that Aaron wondered if he should guide the Striker over to their couch so that he could sit. “He…he let me know that he’s dropped the percentage I owe him to 65%” Kevin’s gaze slid to FF who was sat at the desks with Katelyn still. “He…he said to give you his…regards?” He says.

Aaron’s own gaze whips to FF.

“Ok.” FF says with an awkward shrug.

Aaron almost laughs at the lack of response but he holds it in unsure of how Kevin would take it.

“Kevin, it’s a good thing right?” Aaron says instead.

Kevin looks at him and nods frantically, “Yes. It’s a good thing.” He agrees. “35% makes things so much…so much easier.” Kevin says his shoulders sagging and it always bothers Aaron when he thinks about the deal that Kevin and Neil live under. He knows that Andrew has only been even listening to offers over a certain amount since he plans on helping Neil.

“I’m glad.” FF offers before turning back to Katelyn, “Ok, have you finished reading that book I gave you last week?” He asks apparently more interested in tutoring than in what Lord Moriyama had to say to Kevin.

“Oh, yes!” Katelyn agrees.

Kevin looks at them and Aaron has known Kevin long enough to recognize when he’s thinking about something. He even knows him well enough to sense when he’s thinking about something irritating.

Kevin leaves the room though so Aaron figures that it will be someone else’s problem.

He is, unfortunately, incorrect.

45 minutes later Kevin bursts into the room again and grabs Aaron, “I need your help with something.” He says, hands cold around Aaron’s wrist, and before Aaron can complain he is being dragged out of his room and into the room his brother shares with Neil and Kevin.

“Kevin, what the hell?” Aaron complains finally managing to pull himself out of Kevin’s grasp.

“I’m going to take control of Smith’s recovery.” Kevin says as if that was a normal thing to say, “Lord Moriyama wished him a speedy recovery and…and I owe him.” Kevin admits.

“You don’t need to take control of Smith’s recovery to thank him. You could just thank him?” Aaron points out the obvious answer but as per usual very few members of the Foxes were amiable to hearing the simple solutions that Aaron offered.

“No this is better. He’ll appreciate it more than just a simple thank you.” Kevin dismissed, “Now, do you think I should start with basic protein or more vitamin based smoothies for his recovery?” Kevin asks and only now does Aaron see the grocery bags of fruits, vegetables, and various other things littering the kitchen.

Why the fuck was everyone on this team so damn weird?

It was 20 minutes of Aaron trying to wrangle Kevin away from the weirdest combinations. The only thing that made him feel better was the knowledge that Josten was going to see all of these veggies and probably hiss like a vampire as he backed away from the fridge.

Still, 20 soul crushing minutes and they had a green beverage sitting in the blender that Josten had bought the room his sophomore year for Kevin. “I’ll be asking you and Katelyn for assistance on this project.” Kevin says.

“No thanks.” Aaron says exhausted from the last 20 minutes.

“Then I’ll just do it alone.” Kevin says and Aaron thinks about the various things that Kevin had wanted to put into the smoothie, thinks of FF tutoring Katelyn without asking for anything, and how FF had lied to protect Aaron’s brother even from federal agents when he had nothing to do with the mess of two years ago.

Fuck.

“Fine, I’ll help.” He grits out because he couldn’t leave FF to the nutritional whims of Kevin Day. He already feels bad enough about the drink that FF is about to be subjected to but he can at least stop Kevin from crushing actual multi-vitamins into the drinks and claiming it would make for good ‘texture’.

They come back to the room and Aaron hears Katelyn and FF talking about a new smoothie place that might be good for FF to try, “…have a peanut butter and banana one that would probably be easy on your stomach.” He hears her say unaware of the monstrosity Aaron has just had a hand in creating.

“No need for that.” Kevin says confidence unshaken and undeserved as puts a glass of green juice down in front of FF. “Drink that.” He says.

Aaron is immediately filled with a desperate desire to both apologize and slap the glass out of Kevin’s hand. Inevitable stained carpet be damned.

“Sure.” FF says as he takes hold of the glass.

It feels as Aaron watches it happen in slow motion. He sees Katelyn’s own revolted face and wishes he could tell her that this really was the best he could do in terms of saving FF. FF, unaware of Aaron’s inner turmoil, takes a sip of the green beverage full of Kale, spinach, sprouts, protein powder (plain), and some crazy Chinese health supplement that Kevin swore by but smelled vaguely alcoholic despite Kevin’s INSISTENCE that it was not.

“I know alcohol, this isn’t alcohol.” Kevin had said and honestly it was hard to argue with that logic.

FF brought it to his lips and drank it.

Aaron felt like he should have gotten a garbage bin ready but instead he watches on in horrified awe as FF drains the entire nightmarish glass.

“Cauliflower?” FF asks as he wipes the remnants of the smoothie off of his upper lip.

Aaron’s head whipped towards Kevin who was smiling as he accepted the glass back from Smith, “I’m surprised you would notice.” He says visibly pleased even as Aaron bristles.

“How the fuck did you put cauliflower in there, I was watching you.” He hisses.

“Katelyn texted you, I put it in then.” Kevin shrugs.

Aaron regrets nothing.

***

Kevin continued to hand FF bizarre healthy combinations of fruits, vegetables, and god knows what. Aaron and Katelyn did their best to keep Kevin from going too wild with his purchases but Kevin on a mission was a difficult thing to stop.

It didn’t help that FF accepted any and everything that Kevin handed to him without a single flinch. As far as Aaron knew FF didn’t even know that Kevin had decided to take control of his recovery and diet for the foreseeable future.

He had been making a run to buy Katelyn some tampons when he found FF in the stomach pain aisle looking between a two-pack or an extra large bottle of Pepto Bismol. “Smiths, if Kevin’s god awful smoothies are hurting your stomach you can just tell him.” Aaron says as he drags FF out of the aisle knowing that Pepto Bismol would not be good. “You can’t take anything with aspirin. Nicky had me read your care instructions to him in plain English I know.” He says.

FF didn’t say anything as he let himself be dragged to the register where the girl there seemed surprise that FF wasn’t buying anything. “Nothing for you?” She asks looking at FF.

FF nodded, “Nothing for me.” He agrees.

“I’m glad! You deserve it!” She says smiling as if she hadn’t just said something that felt wildly rude to say to a customer.

Aaron grabbed FF by the arm, scowled at the cashier, and dragged him out.

“They don’t hurt my stomach. I ended up there more on auto-pilot than anything.” FF says and Aaron remembers the conversation they had been having in the stomach relief section. “I think what I had yesterday was a bit too much.” He admits and Aaron rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

Kevin’s nagging about their health had gotten a combination of better and worse since FF had started accepting the smoothies without comment.

Better because now Kevin had someone who he could unleash his full overbearing nature on and who didn’t seem to even care or notice just doing as Kevin ordered. Worse because now Kevin had a taste of what it was like for one of them to follow his orders.

This building irritation had lead to Josten and Andrew grabbing FF before he could be ambushed by Kevin for his usual lunch smoothie and drag him off to an off campus Deli that they both liked. Josten had probably wanted to feel just a little bit superior to the multi-lingual Freshman since it was a Russian Deli where the owner only really got what you ordered if you did it in Russian. It had happened on the day where at morning practice Kevin had implied that FF would be a better protege since he listened while Neil continued to refuse vegetables.

He could just imagine Josten offering to order for FF.

What an asshole.

He remembers coming into the room the day previous and finding them dumping the contents of a styrofoam bowl into the blender. “What is that?” Aaron had asked.

“Borscht.” Josten answered.

“Why are you putting it in a blender?” Aaron asks knowing that Josten didn’t have an ounce of social awareness.

“So Smith can eat it?” Josten said back to him slowly as if Aaron was the idiot between the two of them.

“Does Kevin know?” Aaron had asked

“Kevin can’t bitch, there’s plenty of vegetables in there.�� Josten said with absolute certainty.

Kevin can, in fact, bitch.

“Andrew ordered the borscht for me.” FF says as they continue towards the dorms interrupting Aaron from his memory. “It was good, it was just too much. Like what Kevin said yesterday.” He adds.

Aaron can’t believe Josten is so opposed to ordering vegetables that he made Andrew order FF’s food for him.

What an asshole.

***

“A leash. I will find the largest child leash I can get and I will put it on you. Smithy, what the fuck.” Nicky bitches as they made their way out into the crisp December air. “I can’t believe you fell asleep and we almost left you again.” Nicky adds. “My sweet baby boy,

Aaron thinks his cousin is being over dramatic.

FF could walk back from the Fox stadium to the tower on his own just fine. He was a big boy no matter how many times Nicky claimed him to be his ‘sweet little baby boy’.

“I’m not your baby. Don’t call me that.” FF grumbles through his yawn sounding very much like a cranky little baby.

“Maybe stay awake through the game and I’ll consider it.” Nicky teases.

“The game was boring enough to play let alone just having to sit and watch.” Kevin says and it was only because Kevin had his ‘post-game’ smoothie for FF to drink that they realized he wasn’t there before they left the stadium. “We can hardly blame Smiths for falling asleep.” Kevin shrugs elated by the win but disappointed in the competition. “Drink your smoothie Smiths.” He says and FF went back to sipping at the unknown concoction, “The tart cherries and avocado should help you go to sleep when we get back to Abby's.” He says as if that combination was a natural one.

“Tart Cherries and Avocado?” Josten asks in obvious disgust.

“They’re-“

“Hey, Granny Boy!” Came a shout that interrupted Kevin’s explanation.

Usually, anything that interrupted Kevin from some going on another lecture was a good thing but Aaron, bringing up the rear, can see how FF’s posture went from relaxed to painfully alert in a matter of seconds.

“Daniel.” FF returns.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[gabessquishytum]

Dream and Hob are friends with benefits. This wasn't planned - certainly not by Dream - but one thing led to another, and after one of their dinners, which became frequent after their reunion, they ended up upstairs, with Dream on his back and his legs on Hob's shoulders. Dream has never been in an FWB arrangement before, but he's a huge fan now (and why did Hob waste so much time talking to him about chimneys when humanity has invented this utter masterpiece??). Hob treats him like a pillow princess, takes him with equal vigor and enthusiasm in all his forms, and they fuck all around the Dreaming and in the most exotic locations of the Waking world. They also hang out as friends, learn more about each other's lives, and all that sans mindfucking that comes with relationships. Oh yes, Dream is a huge fan. He is, in fact, in love with Hob, but he'd never lay such a burden on Hob's shoulders. Love of an Endless is a heavy thing, and Dream doesn't want to see his dearest friend crumble under it. Hob is also in love with Dream, but if 1889 taught him something, it is not to ask Dream for more than he's ready to give. And Dream already gives much more than Hob has ever hoped. The teeny-tiny problem arises when they have an especially cathartic sex: Hob is so relentless and passionate, and they go rounds and rounds, switching between the Waking and the Dreaming. As Hob whispers filthy, unbearable things into his ear about how much he'd like to breed Dream and keep him, Dream gets lost in a fantasy of them having a home…and a child. It wouldn't be enough to get preggers if Hob didn't actually mean it and dream of it, too, but Hob very much meant it and dreamt of it. Dreamt of it for centuries. And that's how mere days later - because Dream is inhuman and his awareness of what's going on inside him is unmatched - Dream feels a new life stirring somewhere deep inside. He is ecstatic and confused and scared and everything in between. But besides being afraid of failing as a father (again!), he's afraid of Hob's reaction. Apparently, their arrangement didn't involve babies. Dream briefly considers keeping his pregnancy a secret but eventually decides to come clean to Hob: his friend deserves to know he'll be a father soon, even if this child is unwanted. Another thing is, Dream can already feel that the baby isn't human: they're taking more after his nightmarish side...If only the Dreaming's library had a book How to Tell Your FWB He Got You Pregnant with a Creature 101! Perhaps it'd appear there after tonight...

Awww this is so good!! Poor Dream. He's feeling like such a stereotype - an unplanned pregnancy, potentially losing his best friend. Why is his life like something out of a bad human soap opera?! He arranges to meet up with Hob and nervously sits with his hands covering his stomach. If nothing else, he's going to love his baby a whole lot. He's actually a little bit excited by the prospect of having a little creature to love and care for. He created a dozen little baby sleepsuits with multiple limb holes already.

Hob is rather shocked, of course, because he never expected to be a father again. But after the shock wears off, he's ecstatic! He's been so desperate to forge something permanent with Dream - fwbs has been great, and Hob will always want to be Dream’s friend, but he's greedy enough to want more. He's not scared of Dream’s love, he's excited to drown in it and reciprocate everything that Dream wants to give him.

Hob is like "I did say I wanted to breed you and keep you, sweetheart. Well, let me prove to you exactly how much I meant it." He wants Dream to live with him, at least some of the time. So he can take care of him and the baby. Of course he doesn't want Dream to abandon his work and function, but wouldn't it be nice to have a domestic life together? Can't they be best friends who are also deeply romantically in love and having extremely hot sex? Well, it's not something that Dream has tried to before. He's never actually been friends with any of his romantic partners. Could that have been the problem all along?

He senses that he'll need all the help he can get with the baby (who is living up to their function and being a proper little nightmare already). And if he moves in with Hob, at least he can get footrubs on demand. Maybe he'll finally get to be happy with Hob and the creature they've created through their love?

At least he's going to try. And Hob is so proud and grateful for that. He'll give footrubs 24/7 <333

[sentientgolfball]

i love soft phantom but how about a scenario of a new ghoul or some other demon species acting predatory towards reader and phantom being all protecting and aggressive!!! 🤭

When I saw this one I knew I had to save it :> consider this Golfball's Halloween special

Tags: nothing too overtly gory, but there's some description of injury, demon Phantom, blood drinking, extremely brief mention of suicide

My requests are open !

Phantom has always been a cheerful ghoul, ever since the day he was summoned. He was always willing to help where it was needed and eager to learn about the strange world of humanity. He was talkative and affectionate, kind and curious. He’s someone you considered a friend with how often he’d swing by to help you where he could. But something has been off lately. 

It started with snide comments and jokes that were a bit too personal. That quickly turned into stealing your things and hiding them where you’d never find them. Bleeding into the shadows just to pop out when you thought you were alone. The worst part was nobody else seemed to notice his change. You tried venting to your friends one night and all you received were confused looks and questions. He only seemed to be treating you like this. You felt crazy. And now here he was sitting on your desk. 

“Come on, is it really that important?” He snatches the paper you were looking over from your hand. His eyes roam over it quickly before a sick grin crosses his face as he tears it up. 

“Phantom what the fuck!” You feel your gut twist at the sight of the contract now in tiny pieces all across the desk. 

His once sickeningly sweet laugh sounds grating to your ears. You look at him only to be met with a horrible Cheshire grin full of fang. 

“What? You said it yourself we couldn’t hang today cause you were busy. Now you’re not busy.” 

You stare incredulously at him, mouth slightly agape “Get out.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Get the fuck out!”

“Aww come on you’ve got nothing to do now.” He purrs 

“No. Now I have more to do! Leave!” 

He shrugs with a chuckle before hopping off your desk and out the door, tail flicking happily as he goes. You dig the heel of your palm into your eyes and let out a frustrated groan. What the hell was up with him? You felt crazy. He’s been like this for weeks. What’s even worse there would be days that he seemed completely normal and you could almost forget how much of a pain in the ass he’s become. He’d flip so often you were beginning to wonder if he needed to go see Omega. You started to loathe seeing him, it was getting exhausting dealing with the whiplash of demeanor. 

A soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Whoever is there waits only a few seconds before slowly opening the creaky door. 

“Hey” a smooth voice calls out “you missed lunch so I thought I’d bring you something small.” 

Your irritation spikes. You actually couldn’t believe him. The audacity of this ghoul. 

“Phantom do you really fucking think a little sandwich is going make me forgive you?” 

You remove your hands from your eyes and glare at him. 

“What?” He asks with genuine confusion, ears drooping. 

You huff and stand, shoving your chair in with a shrill scrape against the floor. You gather the rest of the papers before Phantom has a chance to shred them. You shoulder past him and out the door. You couldn’t be near him anymore. You went to go find somewhere to finish your work without a little demon bothering you. 

You had spent the rest of your day fixing the mess Phantom caused and catching up on what you had to put on pause. You were now alone in your room trying to alleviate the headache that had plagued you for the last few hours. You were laying in bed staring off when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t answer. You really didn’t care who was on the other side, you didn’t want to deal with it. 

“Please let me in.” A soft whine came as you stayed quiet. 

“Go away Phantom.” 

It was quiet for a long time. You started to settle believing that he actually listened and left you alone. Until you heard a whisper you would’ve missed if it hadn’t been dead quiet. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You rolled over and looked at the door, weighing your options. You had been sick of the way he was acting towards you, but he was your friend. He had been so kind to you much longer than this new asshole side of his. Maybe he was going through something ghoulish that you couldn’t understand? You sigh. If he was coming here to apologize then he at least realized he did something wrong. You’d be willing to forgive if he could mend the tears in your relationship. 

You push yourself out of bed and open the door. You stand in the doorframe eyeing his downtrodden posture. He was slouching, ears drooped and eyes wide with his tail wrapped around his leg. Little pricks of guilt began to soften the anger steaming in your mind. 

“I’m sorry” He squeaks again “for everything.” 

“Phantom” you sigh and cross your arms “I don’t know what’s up with you, but it’s really hurt.” 

“I know, I know I’m sorry I just need to exp—“

“I really don’t want an excuse just…fuck.”

“Please let me make it up to you.” 

You consider him for a moment. You really hated the way he’s been acting, but you had a fondness for the sweet little ghoul you once knew. You wanted to believe he could make it up to you. You wanted to have the Phantom you knew back. Maybe you would regret it. Maybe you would come to realize he’s a demon no matter how soft his smile is. Maybe you were just stupid and naive for thinking it could change. But if he’s willing to apologize, willing to admit how fucked he’s been maybe he deserves a second chance. 

“Okay.” 

His ears perk up. 

“Not tonight. I’m still pissed about the paperwork, but if you haven’t flipped out again overnight then maybe we can work something out.” 

“Yes it’ll be different I promise, no more bad Phantom. I’ll make sure he’s gone.” 

“Goodnight Phantom. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.”

He stays and watches you close the door before departing. You sigh heavily, shoulder slumping before crawling back into your bed. You were exhausted. Everything’s been so exhausting lately. Though, on the bright side it seemed like your headache finally went away.  

After Phantom’s apology everything seemed to go back to normal. Well almost normal. He refused to leave you alone now. Granted he was always a little clingy, but this was a whole new level. He was always hanging around the same area as you even if he wasn’t directly interacting. You honestly didn’t care at this point, you were just glad he seemed like his sweet self again. He even kept his promise. He had begun getting you small little gifts of crystals and flowers and helping you with your tasks around the Ministry. It was nice. About a week of this passed and you felt good, great even. You wanted to do something with him, show him you’re no longer mad at him. With Samhain right around the corner you both decided on having a gigantic movie marathon.

You were waiting for him in your room, everything needed for the night already set up. You were just waiting for him to get out of rehearsal. A knock at your door startled you. You furrow your brow opening it to see who was there. 

“Phantom?” 

“Hey hey we were let out early. Come on, let's get this party started.” He shoulders past you into your room. 

You shrug it off and close the door behind you. He flops onto your bed as you start the first movie. You offer up the snacks you gathered but he declines scrunching his nose in disgust. You get a weird feeling. You try to ignore it though as the movie begins. You settle next to him on your bed, eating since he won’t. Another sinking feeling creeps in when he doesn’t move closer. He’s always been physically affectionate, but now he stays leaning against the wall with a rigid posture. You try to focus on the movie. 

Your phone buzzes after about thirty minutes into the movie. You check it. A text from Phantom. 

I’m on my way! Copia just let us out….please tell me you remembered my candy 

What…? 

You stare at it. The sinking feeling in your stomach twists. You feel nauseous. You try to sneak a glance at the Phantom sitting next to you. He’s staring right at you with a sick grin. You jump out of the bed away from him. 

“Something wrong?” He asks nonchalantly. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“That’s a stupid question. I’m Phantom, your favorite ghoul.” That Cheshire grin splits his face. 

“No you’re not. You’re not him. Who are—“ 

“Oh ouch guess my time is up. Or no that’s not right. Your time.” 

The thing wearing Phantom’s face stands from the bed, eyes rolling back joints popping sickeningly. You don’t waste another second. You run out of your room determined to make it to the practice room. Find Phantom. Find Papa and the other ghouls. Find anyone before this thing turned you into prey. As you ran you heard its wicked laugh bounce through the halls, the scraping of claws against polished floor. You didn’t dare spare a glance behind you. You needed to get away from it. You turn sharply at the next corner hoping to either lose it or find somewhere to hide until it was safe to run. 

You dipped into an alcove throwing a hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing, praying to whoever was listening that you'd be safe. Your eyes widen as the creature stalks forward. It still wears the appearance of Phantom but there’s something so unsettlingly wrong about it. He looks thin, too thin. Bones clearly visible through skin that was drawn too tight. Its hair was long, greasy like an oil spill. Everytime it moved you could hear its tendons snap and pop. You could see black ichor under its skin where its veins popped on its neck. 

“Where are you?” Its cracked, layered voice sang out as it stalked down the hall. 

Lucky, it passes right by your hiding spot. You wait just a bit longer for safe measure before ducking out. It’s gone. You move at a brisk pace towards where you knew a pack of ghouls was hanging. You end up slowing down after a while. It still hasn’t caught up to you. Maybe it lost you? Or maybe one of the sentry ghouls caught it? Either way, you felt safe enough to slow. It hadn’t appeared and you were almost to the practice rooms. You were so close. 

You were so close. 

You stop dead in your tracks when you feel a thick substance drip onto your face. You swipe it, seeing a black ichor coating your fingers. 

“Hello” that voice laughs. 

You try to run but it’s faster. It grabs you, claws digging deep into your skin. You feel the blood flow before you see it, but when you do see it you’re suddenly snapped into the reality of the situation. You panic. You freeze. You don’t know what to do. All you can think about is the gory demise that surely awaits you. It drags you forwards and you stumble. When you fall to the floor the thing pounces. You stare in horror at its gaping maw, filled with hundreds of needle-thin teeth. Spit dripped from his mouth coating your face as it leaned in. You flinch when it springs forward and it latches onto your arm biting down hard and sucking the blood from the wound. It burns. It feels like fire is coursing through your veins as its saliva infects you. The imposter Phantom rips its teeth from your arm and grins, licking the excess blood from its mouth with a sick tongue. 

“You know…I was not going to hunt you” it’s cracked voice says “you were feeding me so well. I would have taken from you until you ended your own life, but that vermin that horrid guard dog pushed me away. Starved me.” 

It brings its mouth close to your throat, jaw cracking and popping as flesh rips so it can open its mouth wider than should be possible. You make one last attempt to push it away, but the burning all but consumed your mind. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely feel. All you could do is watch in paralyzed horror as the beast that wore Phantom’s face prepared to end your life. 

You hear a sharp trill and you close your eyes waiting for the final blow. But it never came. The force of the beast is suddenly knocked off you. You blink your eyes open and you see Phantom. The real Phantom crouched between your broken body and the creature. He growls low in his throat at the thing, tail lashing dangerously. The Phantom you see before you is not one you’ve seen before. It’s definitely him, but something is different. He looks bigger, taller. His horns are long, more sharp. His quintessence pops and cracks haphazardly over his body. His claws look sharper. His eyes are gone, completely black and hollow, swallowed by the void within his very core. His physical form is barely contained as wisps of smoke and stardust curl around him. 

The creature screeches and jumps up, form twisting as it does so. Its joints pop as it grows, thin limbs becoming thinner. It’s leathery skin is stretched so thin you can practically see every ichor filled vein. It still wears Phantom’s face but it looks half melted as it struggles to maintain the appearance. It’s sharp, every ridge and bone visible. It lunges at Phantom. 

He growls and disappears in a puff of smoke before reappearing behind the beast. He rakes his claws down its back, black ichor spilling onto the pristine floors. He warps away again when it turns, landing another blow to its side. He does this again and again, but the beast catches on. The minute he puffs away it spins and catches him when he reappears. It throws Phantom against the wall with horrible force. He lets out a pained wheeze, rolling over trying to gather himself before it’s too late. He’s not fast enough though. The creature sinks its teeth deep into his shoulder and Phantom wails. Its teeth dig in. 

Phantom screams and digs his claws into its head. He sets his jaw and unleashes so much raw quintessence from his body that the hallway is filled with a purple glow. The beast falls limp, sparks jumping from its body. Phantom doesn’t hesitate. He sinks his fangs deep into its throat and pulls and pulls until it’s ripped from its neck. He spits it onto the floor and bends back down, drinking the ichor like blood that pours from the wound of the dead creature. He pulls back when he’s satisfied, swiping his forked tongue over his mouth collecting the remnants. He growls at the body of the beast. 

You scream at the scene, or at least you try to. It comes out more as a whimper as the venom works its way through your system. The moment you do, though, Phantom’s head snaps to your body laying on the floor. Immediately everything about him changes. The quintessence stops rippling over his body, he goes back to his normal size, his form becomes solid again, his eyes return to their normal purple. You see his mouth move but you can’t hear it over the ringing in your ears. You see him run to you before your eyes fall shut. 

When you finally blink open your eyes, you're met with the sterile white of an infirmary room. Everything hurts. You felt slick with sweat and cold. Your head was absolutely pounding as you looked around trying to get your bearings. That’s when you notice a little ball of purple curled up at the foot of your bed. 

“He’s been there all night you know.” 

You whip your head around at the voice before you can stop yourself. You groan feeling like someone took a hammer to the side of your skull. 

“Don’t move so quickly. Your body is still recovering from the venom. You’re lucky I was able to make an antidote.” 

“Thanks Omega.” You wince both from the pain and how that came out a lot more sarcastic than genuine. 

He chuffs “Don’t mention it Sibling, however next time a trickster spirit is within these halls please alert me before another scene is caused.” 

And with that, he walks out. You lay back in the bed and close your eyes against the annoying fluorescent. You replay the night's memories over and over again until you feel a weight shift as Phantom moves from his spot at the foot. A smile ghosts your face as he curls closer to you and mumbles a sleepy “You’re thinking too loud” before he falls back asleep with a purr in his chest. 

[cowpokeomens]

Good morning I saw this post and it rotted all three of my remaining brain cells because

Word gets around to you that sweet Matty is a virgin, and by no means are you one to take that lightly! But :-/ you know as well as I do about his MCE, and you just wanna take the horse for a ride 😔🫶 and he’s been flirting with you for months now in his own weird passive-aggressive mean way! So it’s not like your feelings aren’t reciprocated! It’s fine! You’re fine! Nothing morally corrupt to see here! So yeah just imagine your shorts get shorter as the months get warmer :-/ you ditch the hoodies for crop tops, then you ditch those for bralettes because “it’s sooooo hot Matty what the hell is up with this weather??” And you know you’re getting under his skin with the way his hands linger on you, at the small of your back, direct skin to skin, as he guides you in front of him somewhere busy; the way his eyes are absolutely lingering on your legs in your tiny little shorts :-/ you laugh at his jokes with your chest because you know it makes your tits bounce :-/ you press your whole body against him in a way that never mattered when you wore hoodies and sweatpants, but makes him shove you off now with pink cheeks. It all comes to a head when you’re getting ready to go out with some gal pals. He’s hanging out at your place while you get ready; once you’re done with your makeup and changed into your clothes, you do a little twirl to show him your outfit- which is absolutely lingerie and a mini skirt :-/ your fishnets have a few suggestive holes ripped in them, the boots you wear elongate your legs without having you teetering on a heel precariously :-/ Matt sighs, which makes you genuinely frown. You ask “What is it, Matty?” To which he responds “I dunno, it seems like you’re dressing really… provocative lately.” And you try not to focus on how that hurts because he is right after all!!! And you’re gonna respond when he mumbles “it’s distracting.” And oop! Wrong thing to say Matty! Because you drop your eyelashes and walk over to him slowly, sitting so close to him you’re practically on his lap. “Distracting? How?” It sounds innocent enough, right? No ulterior motives here! And his cheeks are sooooo pink omg baby is soooo flustered by your proximity and your question and your everything. But he’s nothing if not honest! So he says “it’s just, like, I’m straight edge, right? So the idea is that you avoid…. Promiscuous sex. But like-“ he pauses and you nod to encourage him, sensing something big is coming, “I’m just not sure what constitutes as ‘promiscuous’ if that makes sense? Like do you have to be married? Do you just have to really care about the other person? What are the parameters?” And you can’t help but tuck a little piece of hair behind his ear, thinking before you respond. “I think,” you begin slowly, “that sex is a natural part of being alive. It’s fine if you don’t want to have it, it’s fine if you do what to have it. But it seems unfair for some straight-edge higher being to decide what the ‘healthy’ limit looks like, because that limit will be different for everyone.” And his wee shoulders relax a bit which makes you fight back the urge to beam with pride but then he says “I’ve never- I haven’t like, done it before. What if I’m not good? What if no one wants to stick around because I suck at it?” And your little heart just breaks because :-( Matty :-( so you tell him that anyone who only cares about sex obviously has different priorities and isn’t worth keeping around! And then you can’t fight the urge to say “but. If you want to practice. I’m always here for you < 3” hehehehehehe and his eyes get all wide bc?? You’re so hot?? And he just admitted he’s a virgin?? And you offered to fuck him??? And maybe :-/ maybe you offer to take some of the edge off for him :-// maybe he just needs to relax :-/// and he seems perfectly willing to hear you out so you slide onto to floor between his knees and his breath hitches as you start to palm at him where he’s absolutely chubbed up and you were right- Monster Cock Energy! Yippee!

Anyways! You pull his cock out and it’s so pretty and pink and you want it in your mouth so you flutter your eyelashes and ask if you can suck on it and he stares at you open-mouthed for a minute before saying “it doesn’t. It doesn’t count, right? Because I’m not fucking you. So it doesn’t count.” And you nod because that’s what he needs right now and reassure him that no, it doesn’t count, Matty :-) what you don’t say virginity is a social construct that you can hit reset on whenever you want bc it’s not real but that’s a conversation for another time bc right now Matt’s cock is in your mouth and it’s hot and heavy on your tongue and you think he might actually pull a muscle with how hard he tenses up :-/ he’s soooo vocal ugh never learned that men are supposed to be stoic and silent so he’s moaning so so so prettily and clawing at the cushion underneath him as you take him deeper and deeper and when he hits the back of your throat he’s gargling out shit like “holy fuck, oh my god, you’re perfect, you’re so hot and perfect and I’ve thought about this for weeks now-“ and you’d be bashful if you hadn’t been so intentional in your seduction! Oops! He’d manage to get a hand into your hair and it’s over from there, once he gets a taste of fucking your mouth he’ll never recover I fear! It’s wet and messy and there’s lipstick all over your face and mascara running down your cheeks and his thrusts are erratic and fast until he finally cums with a loud, breathy moan, pulling you down to the base and keeping you there for a solid 10 seconds as he shakes through his orgasm :-/ doesn’t hesitate to pull you right into his lap to kiss you deeply, smearing cum and lipstick all over himself now too :-/ anyways that’s all I just wanted to share thanks for letting me have the conch bye!