#if not for the fact my brain was caught in the euphoria of beating the radiance i would have been real sad about it

[elvesofnoldor]

i looked up what the missing 5% i need for a 112% game completion and as it turns out, i DO have to complete the final trial of fools. that was one (1) whole percent. I really hope the trial of fools area isn’t having severe frame rate issues anymore or i will have no chance at 112% on this computer. Also i have to go and complete all of the pantheons at god home (patheons of master....sage...knight...something else idk) except for pantheon of hallownest ofc, which was something i wanted to do anyways. so as of now, im not gonna get the sealed siblings ending, because im gonna try and get a 112% playthrough on sealed siblings ending. 

it took me 198 hours to complete the game on true ending, even considering the radiance’s difficulty, it was an obscene amount of time.  it’s hilarious cause i have done 105%? 100-105%? of the game within the first 100 hours or so. it isn’t a feat by any means since it would have taken most people less time. Even counting the time where i just sort of stood around and did nothing it shouldn’t have taken that long if i didn’t suck at every other boss fights and got lost and died so many times at the beginning. but it also means that the rest of 98 hours was just me trying to beat nightmare king grimm and the radiance. which means it took me  roughly the same amount of time i needed to beat the rest of the game to beat two (2) bosses. they are very literally the two toughest bosses in the game, but still, this will never stop being hilarious to me. not to mention, this is not counting the fact that immediately after i finished NKG aka most of the game except the two final bosses (yes, that included the white palace parkour section), i left the game behind at the beginning of last year for no good reason (the game starts to lag super badly on start-up but i always had lagging issues, just not this severe on start-up) until i couldn’t handle it anymore and initiated the final boss fights right away at the beginning of july this year. i have took my time with this game, never taking it this slow with any other games before.  

and after all these time spent on the game.......i want to spend even MORE time at this game. in fact i want to get all the achievements for hollow knight and i know that at least three of these achievements have to do with speed running the game in extremely short amount of time (one is 20 hours and one is 10 hours and one is 5 hours?). i never wanted to do this type of shit for any other games before, not even the last of us. right now im like why play any other game when i could play hollow knight again 

[akoma01]

gorou who sometimes just needs to be pampered...

nsfw under the cut, not proof-read its 2 in the morning

you both laid sprawled out over one another on your shared bed practically naked, gorou laying on his back as you clung to his side, legs tangled and head resting peacefully on his rising chest. it was quiet... not a word spoken between the two of you yet the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact it was... comforting! you both seemed to have that effect on each other.

as time went on and the music that was subtly tuning your thoughts from the apartment next door, your eyes slowly drifted to sleep. that was until you found a familiar fluffy tail wrapping around your waist and tickling your side. you laughed breathlessly, tilting your head to meet his gorgeous turquoise eyes with a smile.

“gonna get you back for that..” you slurred, your fingers crawling up his chest and immediately to his ears, giving them a little scratch. gorou whimpered almost insanely fast, turning his head away with a frown as if he was a little boy losing the bet of his candy to a big red-horned oni. 

“not the ears!”

“‘m sorry ‘rou.. i can’t resist.” you giggled softly, gorou turning his head back to face you. he thought you were so beautiful like this. so raw and just... happy.

the doggy general loved serving and protecting watatsumi island, don’t get him wrong, but moments like these are when he wished he could drop everything to stay with you at home forever. dancing in the kitchen as dinner cooked, his arm wrapped around your waist and other hand intertwined with yours, chests pressed together as you both immersed yourselves in the music. staying in bed curled up impossibly close so he could hear your heartbeat, a beat of comfort knowing you’re truly there with him and this isn’t some dream. kisses upon kisses upon even more kisses everyday...

gorou wanted that more than anything.

but he couldn’t.

the reminder of that overrode his brain, the smile you warmed up to slowly disappearing.

“’rou..? did i do something wrong? ’m sorry..”

“no...! no, of course not, my love.. ‘was just thinking too much.” he quickly reassured, resting his forehead upon yours as he closed his eyes gently.

“can i help you ease your mind..?”

that’s how you found yourself in your current situation, a hand in his boxers pumping at his length while you so subtly humped against the side of his thigh.

gorou was panting heavily, whines and whimpers spilling from his lips like a mantra. his ears and tail twitched every time you slid your thumb over the slit of his dick.

he looked so cute.

gorou’s face flushed a bright red, his eyes unable to stop admiring the way your hand was so gently stroking him. he felt completely powerless.. and he liked it. it was a break from the constant reminder that he is supposed to be in charge, instead he could allow himself to immerse into pleasure without having to do as much as lift a finger.

you pressed gentle kisses across his pectoral, teasingly biting his nipple every once in a while which only earned you a loud whimper and a string of pathetic scoldings.

“too m-much...” his voice was hoarse and almost unrecognizable. “think ‘m gonna cum...”

gorou looked at you with pleas practically written all over his face, desperate for his release. you only nodded and mouthed a ‘go ahead’ before his hips stuttered, thrusting up like a madman and whimpering uncontrollably. 

he soon came in his underwear, your hand gently stroking him to help him ride it out. gorou was gasping for air, trying to calm down from the heavy feeling of euphoria. his mind was heavy with nothing but pleasure, ears ringing and tail twitching.

your clean hand came up to cup his face, rubbing your thumb up and down his cheek in an attempt to soothe him. this caught his attention and pulled him out of his trance. gorou’s eyes were slumped and a smile of innocents adorned his usually neutral face.

“c..” he breathed heavily. “can i make you feel good now..?” 

[1tad0ri]

what abt gojo taking reader’s virginity ;))

warning: virgin!reader, praising, fingering, eating out, penetration, mild overstimulation

gojou satoru x fem!reader

say less, this man owns my entire heart

“how are you doing?”

the question would’ve been almost cute if he wasn’t knuckle deep in your cunt, two fingers curling with seemingly no rhyme or reason to your hazed brain, but somehow working—yes, they were definitely working. it was the fact that he didn’t even look like he was remotely trying but was still somehow getting results that really got you—you don’t know why you expected anything less from him.

satoru’s lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, the feeling sharp yet... warm? the unfamiliar sensation made you hiss.

the top of a third finger nudged your entrance, slowly, carefully pushing in—the stretch; you didn’t know how much more you could take. your hips bucked against him, you throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapping around his back to push his face closer, the flat of his tongue pressing on you. (not that you had much say in the matter anyway; the arm locked around your thigh pulling you closer to him wouldn’t let you get very far even if you did try to move away.)

“my god, satoru—” you propped yourself up on your forearm and then promptly let yourself fall back onto the pillow, face burning at the sight. even with his blindfold on, you could tell he was watching you, looking smug, attention focused so fully on your aching core. oh god, this was embarrassing—

“you were taking too long to answer,” he mused, mouth pulling back from your pussy enough to talk, fingers still pumping in and out. the third finger was working its way in still, the fit tight but he knew you could take it. of course you could.

“so?” his eyes flicked back up to yours behind his blindfold. “how are you doing?”

it was hard to talk aside from your irregular pants and you tilted your head up to look at the ceiling, trying to slow the racing beats of your heart. you nodded, swallowing. “good,” you managed out, then sucked in a harsh breath, “very good.”

“that’s my baby. so proud of you.” third finger in, he watched your face, allowing you to adjust, and when you didn’t protest, he curled it tentatively. the sharp rise and fall of your chest at the action spurred him to continue, stretching you further, your walls squeezing his fingers. “you’re doing so well.” a light kiss to your clit made you gasp—he was having way too much fun.

your slick dripped down his hand, perfectly matching the wet sound of him fucking his fingers into you. your leg pressed down more on his back—you didn’t know what to do, squirming in place, wanting more yet still barely handling what he was already giving you.

“do you think you’re ready?” satoru asked after a moment, voice soft—the vibration of him talking so close to your folds did not help though and you ran a hand down to grip at his hair.

“i think...,” a pant when his fingers bumped against you just right and you had to resist screaming from how he was going to drive you insane at this rate, “i think i am.”

that was all the confirmation he needed before he removed his fingers. you didn’t even get the chance to mewl in protest before his tongue replaced the digits, pushing itself into your still tight hole, flicking against your sensitive spot and fucking you.

“satoru, fuck, oh my god— satoru.”

and then he was pulling back again, tongue running up and down your folds and lapping up your juices before he sat back to observe you.

towering over your form spread before him, satoru decided that waiting for this moment was worth the pretty sight. “good girl.” he squeezed your thigh reassuringly, letting you catch your breath, and then setting about ridding himself of the remaining pieces of fabric.

his blindfold discarded to the side, you didn’t even have it in you to be embarrassed when he shoved his boxers down, cock bouncing free. you were already thinking about how it would feel, caught up in the lust of the moment. things were hazy... so sharply realistic yet mixing with the muddled euphoria from all of his touches from before.

satoru settled back between your legs, lifting them up around his waist. you automatically locked them around him, drawing him close enough that you could feel his cock bump against your clit as he tried to get comfortable. the sensation alone filled you with shockwaves of electricity and you wriggled against him, impatient.

he leaned over you, forearms planted on either side of your head, and carefully guided his cock to run against your folds. you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull his chest flush to yours, tits pressing against his front.

“please,” you murmured, forehead against his and eyes squeezed shut, “want you. so bad.”

“fuck, so pretty just for me, aren’t you?” smiling, he moved to kiss your neck and the simple touch made you shiver. “so impatient.”

you pulled at his hair, brows furrowed and face hot. “shut up.”

satoru kissed the corner of your mouth and then nibbled at the area. “you’re so cute like this. so pretty—ow.” another tug at his hair made him ease up on the teasing (plus he had to admit he was ready to finally do this too).

“okay, okay. i’m going to take of you, baby. going to take care of you so good.” he breathed in, touch reassuring where it rubbed circles into your sides. “okay?” satoru pressed his lips to your cheek when you nodded, steeling yourself. “just tell me if you ever want to... stoppp—fu...ck,” the end of his sentence mixed together into a groan as he started to sink into you, cock stiff and hot. he was so careful, so slow, you almost wouldn’t think he wanted to fuck you into the mattress right now. nails against his back, you buried your face into his neck, breathing heavy.

“don’t stop.” the words spilled out of you when he tried to give you time to adjust, your legs pushing him in further. “god, do not stop.” your lips tickled against his skin and he pressed his forehead into the pillow beside you—you were so fucking tight. all for him. completely his.

as he eventually bottomed out after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back to look down at you, your looped arms about his shoulders not letting him go far. “i love you.” his words melted into your mouth when he leaned back down and his lips sucked against yours in a kiss, open mouthed, messy, and so good. hands tangled in his hair, you tilted your head up to meet him with the same fevor.

in between the meager chances he let you take a quick gasp of air before diving back in, you were able to get out your own sentence. “i love—” another wet kiss cut you off. “—you too—” and another. “—so much.”

attention focused on your mouth, satoru began to pull out just the smallest bit and then snap his hips back into yours, relishing the hot breaths you were releasing against his face. hums of contentment and hands flitting all over his hair, head, face, and back trying to find purchase were the responses he got from you as he continued with the shallow thrusts, lengthening them bit by bit until he was pulling almost all the way out to slam back into you.

the vibration of his grunts and moans, knowing you were the reason he was like this, it was too much. the brushing of his cock against the sensitive spot buried deep inside you had you cursing, messy lips and saliva mixing in until you turned your head to the side to breathe, gasping for air.

and then when one of his hands rubbed against your clit before you even realized what was happening, you clenched around him (earning you a low growl from him as you squeezed his cock even tighter than before), gritting your teeth. somehow he knew exactly what to do to get a rise out of you, even if this was your first time.

“are you going to cum for me, baby?” teasing yet lust-driven, his words went straight to the coil building up in your stomach, your whole body hot as he nipped at your neck and you took shuddering breaths.

“y... yes,” the broken word fell from your lips, throat suddenly sore from the tension, “please make me cu... ah,” he pressed down on your clit at just the right angle, rubbing in a perfect circle—god, so perfect, “please, just—”

satoru soothed you with quiet coos, capturing your lips once more. it wasn’t long until you completely let yourself go, slick coating his cock as you saw stars and the pressure released from within you.

“i’m almost... there...” he gasped against you, hips snapping against yours as he continued to fuck into you. the overstimulation was so good, fuck, you didn’t want to come down from your high. the feeling of his chest tensing up against you as he came had you clinging to his back all over again, muscles taunt under your touch.

it took a while for both of you to calm down, sweaty foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing and lips brushing.

when he could finally speak, satoru brought his hand up to cup your face and he pressed a kiss to your lips, one that was a sharp contrast to the unhinged nature of the ones previous. “i love you. you were so good.” satoru squished your cheek, laughing a little. “love you so much.”

you nodded, feeling feverish, still burning from the thrill, and leaned up to kiss him again, drawing him down into a slow, smooth lapping of mouths against one another. “i love you too.”

[lightsovermonaco]

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max​ thank you Mea! 

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane. 

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he  rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid. 

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after. 

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking. 

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him,  outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb. 

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?" 

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding. 

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides. 

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you. 

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting. 

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.  

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes,  they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning. 

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze part.2 — Spencer Reid

Gif by @ssadrreid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.1 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I was very happy with the return you guys had in the first part💖. I hope you guys like.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️ Couple:Spencer Reid / Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Spencer straightened his tie for the hundredth time in front of the mirror, in several unsuccessful attempts to exhibit his best that day. It was funny and ironic how, after so many years wearing dress shirts and a tie, the universe seemed to handpick that day to do - no matter how much Spencer tried to fix it - his tie looked weird. The fabric was too far to the left, or too far to the right, or too wrinkled in the folds. No matter how much he undid the knot or changed his tie, still looked strange.

What a nightmare.

Reid was barely able to sleep with the notion that he would see you today, his body being whipped assiduously by unsettling waves of euphoria, his mind whizzing like a propellant, anxiety screaming in his mind and sending his sleep for miles away. That morning, the world seemed to be more stuffy, hot and torrid, and for a second, Reid felt himself under the heat of Egypt instead of autumn in Washington.

He could feel his heart speeding up with the steps of the clocks, his breath running away from his lungs, a thousand and one speeches being revised in his head to try to lessen the likelihood of speaking some bullshit near you. Because he couldn't ruin that chance.

Spencer knew he was not the type of guy to have dates whit women like you every day. In fact, Laila had been the only stunning woman who had looked at him a second time. But, well, to be honest, he knew that all that affection she had directed him had been side effects of the transfer. He had been her hero and it clouded people's rationality. And, to his disquiet and to the dread of his insecurity, you were above the beauty of Laila on stratospheric levels.

To make matters worse, the damn tie wasn't good! God, he was screwed.

Spencer gave up on that impossible mission, settling for and conforming to what the tie looked like after the twentieth attempt. He wanted you to see him as a handsome person, a man worth wasting time with, not a boy who only served to be your friend. You were beautiful on so many levels that... well, Reid wanted you to be attracted to him, too, to simplify.

He stepped away from the mirror and slung his work bag over his shoulder, trying to control the pounding of his own heart.

On the way to work, trying hard to avoid thinking about what him looked like in that damned imperfect tie, Reid wondered, for a moment, if you too were under the same emotions. Did you change your clothes several times because you also felt anxious too? Could it be that, like him hands, yours also trembled? Or, if he was lucky, was your heart beating as hard as him?

He hoped that was yes.

As soon as he entered the BAU headquarters, with anxiety as his chaperone, Spencer sat at his own table while pouring a “Good morning” to his colleagues.

“Arrived early.” Derek narrowed his eyes at him, in that suspicious look.

"I am never late." He was quick to hit and that caused his friend to raise an eyebrow.

"But you never be anxious to get here earlier."

Sometimes Spencer hated that his friends were profiles.

“I just like my job.” Reid started to unpack things of bag, trying to avoid the look of Derek who was still burning his back.

“Oh, I'm sure you like.” The double meaning in his friend's tone did not go unnoticed by Spencer, but he did not want to delve into the truths of that argument, much less think about it.

Emily and JJ arrived after a few minutes, with Garcia following behind and making their point that she was not to blame for buying those pairs of shoes, since they were practically begging her to take them. Normally, Reid did not look at the glass door whenever he heard someone approaching, or had a strong desire to see Gideon pass through them as well.

But that day... that day, seeing Gideon meant seeing you. And seeing you meant that you would go through that door. And going through that door meant that Spencer would see you come in. That was enough to make his gaze turn to those doors from minute to minute.

But time passed. Fifteen minutes flew by, then twenty, then thirty. Anxiety increased and now his agitated heart was tuned to his right leg, which did not stop quietly, shaking from top to bottom assiduously.

“What do you look for at the door so much, Reid?”

Prentiss asked the last question that Reid would like to answer, and that caught Derek’s attention, who, as expected, laughed amusingly and sank further into the chair, a sly, playful smile on his lips.

“Oh, he is expecting a member of the Gideon family.”

Spencer swore and, in that moment, he was never so jealous of ostriches for being able to stick their heads underground. If he were one of them, he would definitely do it.

“I'm not expecting Y/n.” he said, whit voice higher and thin than usual.

“But I didn't say it was Y/n.” Derek laughed and Spencer felt his cheeks go red.

This time he gave up hitting back, his let out a bad mood murmur and turned forward, forcing himself not to look at the door anymore. From that moment on, Spencer focused on focusing on the pile of reports in front of him, forcing his brain to disconnect from the things around him and concentrate on matters that demand his all attention.

The hours went by, faster this time, the case-free day was being used to finish late reports and giving the team time to recover the nerves and breath of the last case.

After noon, Gideon still hadn't arrived and Spencer started to feel slightly fearful. He was about to take his phone out of his pocket and dial Jason when JJ appeared, handing over more piles of reports to they that required to be finished today.

Derek gave a loud curse of annoyance, muttering something and back to writing again. Emily was used to the paperwork bureaucracy, but from the bittersweet and dissatisfied look on her face, Spencer knew that no one there shared the same delight him had with paperwork. He also knew that Morgan was exhausted because he had remodeled a property yesterday and was barely could to sleep, and Prentiss felt overwhelmed because she was dealing with problems with her mother and with the bureaucracy policy that Strauss pressed against her.

Then Spencer looked at the file stack itself. There was a lot of paperwork, but the amount of reports he would finish in two minutes was three times what his friends would finish in an hour. He leaned forward, looking over the table to see Emily and focusing Derek better in his field of vision.

“Do you guys want to give some reports? I finish faster anyway”

They agreed without hesitating or pretending modesty. Reid laughed, saying that his friends would owe him one, and went back to work.

After that, when Spencer finished the reports and lifted his head from the paperwork, the light in the world had dimmed to a dark blue hue, streaked by small, bright stars.

The breeze coming in through the large glass windows was fresh and invigorating, the scent of the night's wonderful promises was reminiscent of your perfume. And then he realized that neither you nor Gideon showed up all day. Something about him withered, the euphoria diminished until it became as small as the stars outside. The clock struck seven at night when Spencer got up and put his things away, millions of feelings buzzing in chest.

The unsettling sense of concern began to take place than had previously to been emotions of anxiety and excitement, and he pondered whether to ask Hotch about Gideon or to call himself. Reid looked around, looking under his colleagues, who were packing up to go home, and going up to Aaron's office. He could still see his figure under the marble table, the light from the room underscoring the serious and concentrated expression he directed to the documents. The air in that room looked different, maybe more dense, maybe more serious. But Spencer knew it was best to let Hotch do his own thing.

He ran the tip of his tongue over the corner of lips, reaching into his pocket and reaching for his cell phone.

“Hey, Reid." he turned toward Morgan, that signaled them to go to the elevator.

“Did you speak to Gideon today? Or did you hear Hotch say something about it?” The question came after he reached Derek, both of them walking out the glass door.

"Is it Gideon you're worried about or... his daughter?” He laughs shamelessly, pressing the elevator button.

Spencer stumbles over the words when says: “Wh-What? No. I'm just worried about him. It has nothing to do with… ”

As soon as the sentence was about to end, the elevator doors open. Instead of the usual void or presence of someone from the FBI, Spencer felt catatonic when he saw the female figure inside.

You.

In a burst, like a strong wind that blows and pushes things away, Spencer was struck by all the feelings and sensations that had been bubbling in his stomach all day. Euphoria, anxiety, insecurity and... animation. Suddenly, he was worried again about how he would look, what he would say, if he was presentable enough for you to look at him with... Well, Spencer didn't know how he wanted you to look at him, but he wished it were something that guarantee your affection.

He wanted to be something that excited you, that made your heart race. Just like his was now.

"Y/n...” He did not recognize his own voice. The intonation.

"Hey." You smiled genuinely, and it was able to make Reid's heart beat so fast that he feared you could hear. “I'm sorry I didn't show up and neither did my dad.”

“No problem at all.” He was sincere “Did something happen? Are you two okay? ”

The concern in Reid's voice was so palpable that you losing your breath. God, that man couldn't be real.

“I just remembered that Garcia is call me." Morgan tried to swallow a big smile “It was good to see you, Y/n.”

“Me too, Morgan.” You gave him a hand gesture that, for Reid, was lovely.

Spencer put his arm in the elevator door, preventing it from closing.

“Will you want to leave?” Always as solicitous as a gentleman.

“Oh no.” Now it was your cheeks that were softly red. “I came to see you actually.”

If nothing that had happened before was not enough to steal Spencer's breath, your sentence completed the mission. He put himself in an elevator, pressing a button and letting the doors close.

"I was going to bring my dad today, but ... well” You laughed “To put it succinctly, my dad has a list of things he wants to do before he dies, and one of them was rollerblading”

You and Spencer laughed. Half because he would have laughed at anything you said to see your smile, and half because he couldn't see Gideon having such a list. But he liked it. The feeling of knowing that Jason was having fun, enjoying life, not letting that job rip off all of his humanity, was comforting, joyful.

“Why do I feel this is not going to end well?" He joked too and you laughed.

“Because it doesn't end.” Your fingers ran through your hair “We ended up going to a place that had this, before he have work today, and he ended up twisting his ankle when he fell.”

You tried to no laught, because it was not something to play with, but after the fright passed and your father and you were entangled, they both burst out laughing. And now, reliving that, you didn't remember the hurt itself, but how great the fun between the two of you had been.

“He is fine?" But Spencer had a worried flash in his eyes.

“Oh, yes, the doctor said there was nothing much. He just needs to get some rest.” You smiled “I was going to call, but one thing led to another and when I saw it, it was too late to call. So I thought about coming in person.”

Spencer was known to have a photographic memory and a very high IQ, but at that moment, if then asked what you had just said, he would need a moment to remember. For the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment was the certainty that your smile could light up the whole of Washington. How your eyes held the stars' syntax and how the energy that emanated from you was... cheerful.

He realized that you were a cheerful person, outgoing and with an innate ease of making friends. You had that special touch that made people and the universe orbit around you. And Spencer knew it was one of the planets captured by your gravity.

"It is very sweet of you to come here to tell me that.” He smiled, but then realized what he had just said “N-not that you owe me any explanation! I just-I think it's cool that you worried and…n-not that I waited for you but… not th-that I didn't expect you too and...” Spencer stopped talking, giving up trying to find the right words to get him out of the mess he got himself into.

At times like this, Reid was used to people just dropping an embarrassed nod and leaving, or ignoring the avalanche of things he said. But as soon as the tone of your laughter echoed through the elevator and snaked through him body like a wave of energy, Reid looked at you more closely. You didn't give that embarrassed look, nor did you look sorry for him. You laughed lovingly and touched his arm.

"I was also looking forward to seeing you.” You summed up all of him thoughts in one sentence and freed him from all fears.

"Serious?" But disbelief was still present.

The elevator door opened and the two of you got out, walking to the exit of the building and being greeted by the cool, comforting breeze of the night.

“Yea.” You said as if it were obvious, “What do you think about going to a movie? It's not too late. ”

If Spencer had been told a few weeks ago that in a few days he would be on a date with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he would have scoffed. He would have thought it was a joke with a background of evil. Going out with girls was not on the list of things Spencer did regularly, but he was thanking any confusion or mistake the Universe had made to accidentally placed you with him.

To be honest, with you on his side, with you with him, Spencer felt like he had won in life. That all those years of school and university, when he only saw beautiful girls from afar and dreamed of what it would be like to have one this girls interest in him, had dissipated into the air. Dissolved in the breeze like smoke. During all the hours of film, the joyful and ecstatic conversations you both had after, Spencer could feel the connection in the air. Naturally, kind of magical.

Did he know you two days or two decades ago?

You told all of your adventures, all of stories, and listened carefully to every ramble and phrase Reid had to say. He felt, for the first time, completely important. As if everything he had to say was valuable as a diamond, rare as a tropical treasure.

He felt comfortable, relaxed, cheerful.

And when, at the end of the night while the two of you were walking along the lively and vibrant streets of DC, you took his hand and intertwined yours fingers, Spencer never felt so alive.

He had been born twenty-four years, but only now did he really feel what it was like to be alive.

tagged: @gublersuvula @peculiarinsomniac

[remsmoonlight]

— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

                    ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

[babytsum]

milkers - rollin'

based on this meme.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: nsfw, smut, drug use (weed), smoking, characters are high, breast worship, praise, oral (f receiving), face sitting, slight dacryphilia (if u squint), slight overstim

(a/n): it was a drabble, but i think i may have lost control

"god, this sucks."

you looked down to your chest, baggy shirt covering your upper body, but it doesn't hide the fact you feel can feel them weighing you down.

suna calls you at the most random times to smoke. during work, during class, just anytime. and if you were free, you would gladly come over, taking some time to put effort into your appearance. you didn't know exactly what prompts you to put on some eyeliner or change into a more flattering top before you head over, but it happens and you don't think much of it.

except for today.

he'd been calling at the wrong times, mostly because you had the willpower to study instead of smoke, but finally your free time aligned with his and you needed it. or maybe you just needed to see him. either way, you still rushed over with no regard to your appearance. what a mistake.

black smudges on your eyelid, no bra, little nubs peaking through the thin material of your shirt, you didn't look flattering at all. but it doesn't matter. you came here for the weed and the weed only, right?

"what's wrong?" rin frowns, taking in the sight of your tired self. for him, seeing you like this was nice to say the least. it seems as if you've gotten comfortable around him and it makes his heart beat a tad bit faster.

on the other hand, you were already feeling the effect of the nearly magical substance that was overcoming your senses and your judgement. your body felt light, almost lifted, and the stress from your exams was dissipating quickly. your mouth opens and your brain doesn't stop the words from coming out.

"i wish my boobs were smaller."

"oh?" his eyebrows were raised, a bewildered expression planted on his face. he took another hit of the joint pinched between his fingers, exhaling to the screen door of his window. you laid on the bed pouting and staring into the ceiling, "what makes you say that?"

"they just kind of look ugly, i guess," your hand came up to your breast, poking the squishy flesh over and over again and you laughed at the way it would jiggle with every small tap. rin, however, felt his pants becoming a little tight. he took a few steps closer to his bed and noticed how he can see more than just the shape of your nipple, but the dark brown color as well. and the way that a particularly hard poke made your breast wiggle a little more than usual. his lips were parted, but his hazy mind is able to gather a response.

"what do you mean ugly?" he asks curiously.

"i don't know," you sigh looking back down at your chest, "they move around too much. it's annoying."

he's puzzled. he's always loved a good pair of boobs, especially yours. rin can't lie to himself and insist that he's never looked before, especially with the flattering tops that sculpted out the shape perfectly. his train of thought is cloudy, and just like you, the filter has disappeared and now everything that comes out of his mouth flows out like a waterfall.

"i like them," he mindlessly states, "i can show you how much, too."

you sit up on his bed, turning your head towards his direction. when did he get so close? he was already leaning down, faces inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your face, a smirk planted on his lips. you felt small under his gaze, but he wasn't looking at your face.

"then show me, coward." you giggle, brushing it off as a joke. he's close, but he's not serious, right?

you were deadly mistaken.

you were deadly mistaken and you know it when he gently pushes you down onto his mattress, hands making their way under your baggy shirt while he kisses from your stomach back up. "no bra, huh?" an unintelligible word leaves his mouth when your nipple is pinched between his fingers and you're sensitive. you're sure you can feel every single nerve and it all shoots to your core.

he urges you to take your shirt off and you oblige, struggling a bit at first, but he helps because he's nice. rin is nice. he lets you in his room, lets you smoke his weed, lets you lay on his bed while he sucks on your tits.

"fuck, you're so pretty, baby."

you're not sure what exactly feels so good about this, but the small praises that you barely register that come from his mouth everytime he comes up, the vibration of his groans that wrack throughout your body, the hand that kneads the neglected side of your chest. it's all so intoxicating. the sight of his red eyes and his mouth suckling on the wet nub is enough to make your slick to leak through your panties.

his eyes are half lidded, but he maintains eye contact and it's one of the most erotic sights you've seen. he drools all over your breasts, leaving teasing open mouthed kisses, taking one of the little, brown nubs in his mouth. he suckles gently at first and you let out a moan until he works his way up to a soft bite. you barely, just barely, register the pain, but he's making you feel so good and you need more. "i can't believe you wouldn't like these pretty tits," he mumbles, his mouth barely a centimeter away from your chest, "love tasting them."

so your hands tangle in the hair on the back of his head, desperately bringing his mouth closer to your chest because you need more. you need to feel his tongue circle around your sensitive nipple. rin doesn't mind. in fact, he thinks he's enjoying this more than he should be. he's rubbing himself onto the mattress, and though he's fully clothed, this might be one of the hottest ways he has ever gotten off. it's the whimpers that spill from your lips, the nearly whispered mumbles of "more, more, more", and the droopy look of your smudged eyes that do it for him.

when you look at him with heated cheeks and half lidded red eyes that match with his, he creams in his pants and moans loud and clear, letting go of your nipple with a small pop.

when he tries to stand up to change his pants, you flip him over, legs straddling his crotch, his back flat against the bed. his eyes are wide and your cunt is puffy at the image of him underneath you. your hands rest on both sides of his face and he can feel the blood rushing to his groin once again. you lean down, bringing your lips close to his ear.

"thanks, rin."

he groans when you grind your clothed cunt over his hardening cock, your hands tugging at his shirt which is eventually thrown away somewhere in the room. your jeans and soaking underwear are quickly discarded. the friction shoots through your core, but his hands grab your hips, stopping your movement.

"what-" rin doesn't let you finish, quickly pulling your lower body closer to his face. the sudden repositioning makes you squeal and before you can process it, his arms are hooked under your thighs and he's blowing onto your bare cunt. your breath is caught somewhere in your throat and he immediately takes your bundle of nerves in his mouth, sucking gently. your hands grip on the headboard, knuckles turning white.

if it weren't for the fact his mouth was preoccupied at the moment, he would be smirking at the small whimpers that fill the room. the wet muscle circles around your clit before he sucks at it again and you clench around nothing, eyes rolling to the back of your head. your back is arching and it only encourages him to bury his face further into your drooling cunt. his tongue fucks into your entrance, curling deliciously and your hips grind onto his face as you unconsciously search for more friction. though, he doesn't let you do it again, his arms locking your position on his face.

you look cute, he thinks when he's looking above, eyes half lidded. small tears are forming from the corner of your eyes, one hand squeezing your breast, two fingers pinching your nipple, a hand gripping his headboard in desperation for some stability. you taste like candy and he drinks up your slick like a starved man. your head is thrown back and it urges him to pull you up a little more and tighten the grip his arm has on your legs.

"c-cumming now, r-rin," you struggle to form coherent words, your mind is still cloudy and you feel weightless on his pretty face. one particular curl of his tongue hits the spot that sends you reeling into a sense of euphoria, hot pleasure overcoming your senses as your thigh shakes. he laps at your cute, little cunny, attempting to prolong the feeling as much as possible.

it's too much.

and you consider getting off his face, but he locks your position once again. one more, he thinks. he can get out one more. so he keeps on going, sucking and licking without mercy. the lewd squelching sounds he makes with his mouth push you closer and closer to the edge while the cute noises you make shoots to his cock. you're not sure you want him to stop, but when he's back on suckling your little nub with his soft lips, your mind goes blank. and your walls are pulsating around nothing as you cream all over his face.

he finally lets you off, your naked body covered in a layer of sweat, your overstimulated cunny back on the wet spot of his grey sweats. the lower half of his face is covered in your juices. it drips down his chin and you immediately pull his head towards yours, both of you melting into a deep kiss. you can taste yourself on his mouth and your hands palm his hardened cock.

"let me take care of you, rin."

taglist: @nvthvlyy @rintaoreo​ @shinyaluv​

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Spelling Bee (Brick/Blossom)

Happy birthday to @genovah​! She is always inspiring me to come up with more PPG content, a true hero. I’m back with another entry in the ongoing Shooketh, Not Stirred high school AU Reds series for your entertainment. As always, this can be read alone, but it happens in the same universe as part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. This is also posted on my AO3.

Summary: Brick and Blossom hunker down in the library to study for the upcoming regional spelling bee.

***Reblogs are extremely appreciated, since this probably won’t show up in the tags due to cursing. Thank you! <3

xxx

In fairness, Brick had come to the library during his free period with the pure intention to learn. And he was certainly learning something. But somewhere between sliding into his seat opposite Blossom and watching her lips move around insouciant as if it were a strawberry slathered in ganache, his purity was torn from his weak, teenage boy fingers and there was absolutely no going back. 

“Brick, are you listening to me?” She touched his hand across the table. 

“Yup.”

“Did you need me to repeat the word?”

“Yup.”

“In-SOO-see-uhnt.” She sounded it out slowly, and hand to god, that dominating SOO went straight to his cock.

This, of course, was fine. 

“Origin?” he asked. 

She twirled her hair around her finger and puckered her lips. “French.”

Fuck.

“I…”

Blossom mistook his increasingly horny stupor for plain old stupor and sighed. “Are you even trying? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were completely fine with Darla Dimpleton going to regionals instead of one of us.”

“I am not fine with that.”

Darla Dimpleton was an unassuming, unthreatening nobody with the personality of plain oatmeal. Brick would never have even bothered to learn her name had she not committed the cardinal sin of scoring so much extra credit while everyone else was busy having lives that she stole the number one GPA right from under him. Which meant she stole it from under Blossom too. Which meant Brick was no longer a respectable silver medal to Blossom’s gold, but currently ranked third and therefor merely happy to be on the podium at all (and for the record, no one has ever been happy merely to be on the podium, just like no one has ever been happy winning Most Improved: you sucked, and now you suck a little less. Except this time, you actually suck more because Darla fucking Dimpleton decided to Quaker Oats her way to the top of this rat race that doesn’t actually matter, but it’s the principle of the thing, i.e., the only thing that matters.). 

All of this to say, Darla Dimpleton was the Worst™ and she was one hundred percent going down. 

“Are you sure? Because you’re being awfully cavalier about this. Some might even call you insouciant.”

It was a testament to Brick’s powerful fondness for winning and being seen doing it that he spelled insouciant in one Darla Dimpleton-shaped cock blocking breath.

Blossom smiled like she knew something. “Much better.”  

Yeah, she knows a lot of things.

The problem with dating, Brick was convinced, was that suddenly the mundane became extraordinary. Everyday experiences that he had previously taken for granted—flying around Townsville, enjoying a cup of coffee, thwarting his sometimes murderous demonic overlord from distributing incriminating polaroids, that sort of thing—were suddenly exciting, thrilling even. Because now he got to do those things with Blossom, and Blossom was cool in a smarmy, elitist sort of way that both softened his heart and hardened his dick all at the same time, and that was kind of A Lot to deal with at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“All right, do me,” Blossom said, and Brick coughed so badly his aforementioned weak, teenage boy fingers shook to stifle himself. 

Mercy, he thought, probably. But all his blood was rushing south and it was going to take a supernatural willpower to get through these words so that one of them could beat the upstart porridge peasant to this year’s regional spelling bee. 

“You’re the boss,” he said, because it was true, and also because he liked the way she looked at him when he said it. Like he was now the ganache-coated strawberry in this overextended metaphor that he was too laden with Homeric concupiscence being in her general proximity to unpack. 

Concupiscence, there’s a ten dollar word for you, you horny genius. 

He made a mental note to brag to Blossom about this later. 

“Okay, let’s see…” Brick made a show of organizing the flashcards so that she wouldn’t see him discreetly re-situate his pants under the table. “Your word is cymotrichous.”

Blossom tapped her lips, and Brick found himself sympathizing with the Puritans in their absolute befuddlement over the libidinous effect of women having lips. Witchcraft, surely. “Could you use it in a sentence for me?”

Compelled entirely by black magic and therefor not responsible for his imminently questionable choices, Brick obliged her with: “Thinking about how I’d rather run my fingers through your cymotrichous hair for the rest of free period instead of sit here spelling words no one’s ever heard of.”

Blossom, who he was dead certain was extremely thirsty for him and had been for years long before they ever reconciled their rivalry, leaned over the desk separating them. Her hair, long and loose and indeed quite wavy today, was tempting. “Brick, are you flirting with me?”

It was a well-known fact of being a Weak-Fingered, Teenage Boy that one must never reveal such weakness, especially not in front of one’s girlfriend. On the other hand, co-opting said weakness and rebranding it as the suave truth was galaxy brain levels of flirting. And Brick, as has already been established, was a horny genius. “Yup.” He leaned in to meet her, and he twirled her hair between his fingers because they were weak for her, indeed. “How am I doing?”

Blossom, too determined to let her thirst deter her from her goal of sweet, academic retribution and bragging rights, tapped a finger to his lips. “Great. But we have so many words to spell, and only thirty minutes left to do them all. So get shuffling, stud.”

Well, he could work with that. One thing that made his relationship with Blossom work very well was their insatiable competitiveness. Whether they were whaling on each other over an empty parking lot, debating the efficacy of post-its as a note-taking device, or combining their powers to Captain Planet a cornmeal know-it-all back down the leaderboard where she belonged, they were relentless glory chasers. And the greater the challenge, the more they enjoyed the experience and each other. 

Blossom spelled her word perfectly, by the way. She stretched out the o-u-s at the end in a bewitching little whisper as she pulled away and her hair slipped through his fingers. That moment when the light changes and the temperature shifts and you’re weightless in a state of existential anticipation of something monumental about to happen, but not quite? That happened. Thirty minutes to explore the shape of that anticipation was enough time to taste it but not enough to savor it. Which, Brick supposed, was about to make this the best thirty minutes he was likely going to get all week. 

“Are you ready?” Blossom watched him from behind the card she’d drawn. She had a glint in her eyes that told him she was smiling behind that card. 

“Anytime.”

“Your word is eudaemonic.”

That fucking gorgeous ooh again.

“Define it.”

Blossom flushed as though he had just ordered her to bend over. She bit her lip (it must have been a ten Hail Mary’s kind of day when the Witch-Finder General caught a flesh and blood woman doing that with her improbably sorcerous lips) and grinned. “It means producing happiness. Based on the idea of happiness as the proper end of conduct.”

Producing happiness, which is proper, much like how Blossom came off as proper and even prim around adults, when really she was the most fun, most confident, most person he’d ever met, especially when she was spelling in that chiffon top (son of a bitch, that was a great top on her), and the only conduct he was interested in was of the happiest kind.

“Oh.” His throat clenched, and then his stomach twisted, and then his pants grew little too tight again in a full-body chain reaction that began and ended with a fierce determination not to give in first even though it would mean release because release would be meaningless without this etymological tête-à-tête. 

Don’t think about tête-à-têtes. 

Seventeenth century, noun, borrowed from the French meaning literally “head to head” (please, please stop hurting yourself like this).

“Brick?”

Brick cleared his throat. “Yup. Got it. E-u-d…”

Crisis averted, Brick picked the next card and promptly choked on his own tongue. Blossom made a show like she was concerned and are you all right? and please drink some water. Brick drank her water, which of course she had had her anatomically heretical lips on earlier, which was just fantastic for him. Tuesday fucking morning. 

Milieu was her word. 

“Milieu, hmm.” Blossom’s smile was spellbinding, which was a pun because he punned when he panicked. “Origin?”

You bitch, he thought, and be cool, and also, witchcraft.

Brick leaned back in his chair, slipped his trembling hands in his pockets, and squeezed every ounce of anything you can do I can do better into a winsome grin. “French.”

Blossom’s adult-facing façade cracked like an egg, and he got a glimpse of the raw delight she felt for this game, for the words, and for him for making it happen. For cultivating the electric milieu, if you will, currently driving them both into a state of impassioned, competitive euphoria at 9:42 a.m. in the library. 

“Right, um…” She stumbled over her words, and Brick had to restrain himself from crowing for joy and risk the rheumy-eyed librarian coming to scold them. 

By the time they got through another set of words, they were each visibly frustrated and doubly turned on by the other’s masochistic resolve not to throw in the towel. 

“Okay, ready for another round?” 

She wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions now, and that was just fine with Brick. “Of course.”

One more.

If it was another French word, he was fucking done. 

“Really?” Blossom truly had ice in her veins for the way she was able to school her face then. He couldn’t read her, and that was very bad. 

If it’s another fucking French word…

He could be over the desk and on her faster than you could say concupiscence. 

“Okay.” Blossom set down the flashcard she’d drawn and folded her hands on the table. She looked him dead in the eye licked her lips. “Succedaneum.”

The bookshelf shook but Brick’s fingers didn’t as they pinned Blossom’s over a Dewey Decimal-stamped spine and he kissed her with all the horny passion of a teenage genius who would make a note to thank the devil for giving women lips. One of his better ideas. 

xxx

“Hey, has anyone seen Blossom? I’ve sent her, like, four texts!” Bubbles shoved her phone, open to the ignored texts in question, in her sister’s face. “She was supposed to help me with Chem homework.”

Buttercup ducked. “No, and watch where you’re swinging that thing.”

“I saw her earlier,” Boomer said. “She was with Brick coming out of first period.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mike slung his arm around Boomer’s shoulders. “Don’t they both have a free period right now?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “What a scam. Whoever decided to give the A-students free periods while the rest of us mere mortals gotta slave away is a straight-up Supervillain.”

Boomer snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just remembered! They both decided to compete for the spot at the regional spelling bee this year. I bet that’s what they’re doing.”

“God, that’s the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life. That’s a new low even for Blossom.”

“I heard there’s a cash prize for the regional winner,” Bubbles said. “It’s like twenty thousand bucks! Remember, everyone in school signed up and we had to have that assembly to narrow it down?”

“Twenty thou— How the tits did I miss that?!”

“I mean, it was all over the school,” Mike said. “We signed up too.”

“What? And no one thought to tell me I could’ve won the lottery?”

Boomer chuckled. “Dude, come on. You wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell against Darla Dimpleton.”

“Who?”

Bubbles cast Boomer a not worth it look, and he just sighed. “So, if they’re studying for the spelling bee, do you think they’re in the library?”

At that moment, Butch came bursting down the hall a little too fast to be human. Open lockers rattled on their hinges as he passed, and a Sophomore girl’s binder went flying, scattering looseleaf papers everywhere. Buttercup looked ready to punch him in the dick for breaking the no powers in school rule. “Guys, you’re gonna shit!” 

“Calm down before you blow a load, Jesus Christ.” Buttercup yanked him back down to the floor so he wouldn’t spontaneously float. 

Sensibly, Boomer asked, “Why?”

“‘Cause Brick and Blossom are making out in the library right now!”

Mike cringed. “Oh, come on.”

“The hell they are,” Buttercup said. 

Bubbles smiled. “Good for them.”

“I’m serious! There were books everywhere, and the noise—”

“Oh look, there goes my dignity. Better catch it before it gets away. C’mon, moron.” Buttercup dragged Butch down the hall over his protests. “What were you even doing in the library? I didn’t think you knew where it was…”

“Like that could ever happen,” Mike said. “Those two wouldn’t waste a minute of study time if it means beating out the competition.”

Boomer did not look so convinced. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re officially, for real dating now,”—“Finally!” Mike interjected—“so it’s not that unbelievable.”

The bell for the next period rang. Bubbles groaned thinking of stewing for an hour of Chem. At least she shared that class with Boomer and would not have to suffer alone. They parted from Mike and walked together through the throng of students rushing to get to their next period.

“Hey, do you think…” 

“I mean…” Boomer shrugged. 

They rounded the corner and nearly ran into Blossom dashing to her next class with a rushed “Got your texts talk later bye!” before she disappeared into the crowd. 

Bubbles whirled on Boomer. “Did you see her buttons—”

“Completely uneven—”

The late bell rang and made them jump. Among the last stragglers, they both dashed a bit too fast to get to class and made it to their seats just as Mr. Micelli finished writing a problem on the board. 

Boomer winked when she caught his eye a couple desks away from hers, and it took everything she had not to laugh.

“Good for her,” Bubbles said to herself. 

“You are late,” Mr. Micelli said. 

Everyone turned to watch Brick sink into his seat, his short hair totally askew and looking healthily flushed for a Tuesday morning. 

Boomer burst out laughing and needed a whole minute to calm down. 

He’d tell her later that the detention was worth it.

xxx

Witchcraft! 👁️👄👁️✨

[plussizeappreciationfics]

Series: Just the assistant..?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Plus sized reader

Summary: [Y/N], Tom's personal assistant knows that she shouldn't have fallen in love with her employer but she just couldn't help herself. When she thinks that her biggest wish is about to come true, a third party arrives and makes her question whether she'd ever have a chance to escape her situation and simply be loved back by the person she loves the most...

Warning(s): None, I think?

Word count: 5,2k

Picture(s) found on: Pinterest/Google

CHAPTER ONE: Ignition

"Just a few more minutes until they call, do you want something to drink?" (Y/N) asked Tom as she made her way to the kitchen, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest as the tension rose in his living room. 

He had been sitting on the couch, frozen on the spot while staring into space with his phone clutched tightly in his hand. He couldn’t voice the intense waves of anxiety and nervousness coursing through his body, time seemed to pass slowly. One of the producers of Harold Pinter's Play "Betrayal" was about to let him know whether he had gotten one of the main roles or not.

Tom had auditioned for the play a while ago and had desperately hoped that his performance was worthy enough to act the play out on the stage. He had always loved theatre, the interest had never decreased throughout the years. Harold Pinter was also a writer Tom had always looked up to as his plays always inspired and touched him on a deep level that not everyone was able to understand.

 "Tom" (Y/N) called out again.

He had never answered her question which had made her turn on her heel and focus her gaze on his tensed back and shoulders. He still hadn’t moved a muscle as his brain was clouded with too many thoughts at the same time. His assistant let out a soft sigh, her heart fluttering as she longed to gently place her hands on his back and give him a soothing massage. God...I just want to feel you relax under my touch. Whisper my name in a state of longing...

She bit back a craving hum as her eyes continued to appreciate his backside, he obviously needed some time to himself and wasn’t in need of any liquid refreshment. She turned back around and walked into the kitchen while hoping and praying that he’d get the role as he really deserved it. 

She empathised with his every emotion and felt anxious herself, a habit she had when loving someone. Once in the kitchen, [Y/N] quickly walked over to the fridge and took a bottle of water out of it, popped open the cap and let out a soft hum when the cool liquid made its way down her throat. It had been dry and itching for a little while but she didn’t want to leave Tom’s side. She was his biggest supporter, not just the assistant that had been loving him for three years now.

She couldn’t distinguish whether she ever crushed on him or just immediately found herself loving him. She had been a silent admirer of him and his work before she got the amazing (and well paying) opportunity to work as his personal assistant. But she was a professional and strictly made herself keep all the romantic feelings she had for Tom on the down low, she knew that both of their images were at stake if she’d dive into the cliché “employee messing with their boss” mess.  

It was easier said than done but she quickly developed some quality acting skills that prevented the British gentleman from even guessing her true feelings about him. She didn't want to jeopardise her job as it was something she really loved and appreciated doing.

"[Y/N]!" Tom called out in panic, causing her to place the water bottle on the kitchen counter and run back into the living room, where she found him standing in front of the coffee table with his phone still in his hand. The anxiety clouding his eyes quickly vanished the second he looked at his assistant, her presence immediately had calmed him down.

His loud ringtone echoed through the room.  “W-what should I do?” he questioned, feeling like he had lost all common sense while his heart beat harshly against his ribcage.

She chuckled and shook her head while pointing at his phone. “Accept the call!”.

He frantically nodded, letting his thumb slide across his screen before holding his phone to his ear. [Y/N] let out a shaky breath, this was finally the big moment and she was glad that she was the only one who got to witness it. He never put up a show in front of her during these types of moments and that was one of the many reasons why she loved him; he unconsciously made her feel so special on an almost day-to-day basis.

“Hello?” Tom spoke before a nervous laugh escaped his lips, “Gerald, how are you?”, his manners were impeccable while his facial expression turned serious. A big frown crept onto his face, he bit his lower lip and slowly nodded his head. The room got silent  and the assistant didn’t know what to do; she was silently contemplating whether to have a seat on the couch or stay on her feet, ready to walk away in case he wanted some privacy. 

A smile appeared on her face when the actor looked at her again, smiling brightly and motioning with his hand for her to take a seat on the couch. Her stomach fluttered in delight at the fact that he wanted her near and witness this exciting moment with him. 

She made her way over to the couch and was about to sit down when a loud gasp escaped his lips, a smile stretching across his handsome face. “Thank you so much! I-I can’t believe this! Thank you, thank you!” he happily spoke out and then chuckled. She stared wide eyed at him as she quickly caught onto what was happening.

He had gotten the role.

[Y/N] barely could hide her grin as she felt the anxiety disappear like a heavy weight being lifted off her shoulders. An overwhelming urge to reach out for Tom’s handsome face and press her lips against his overtook her senses. But she knew damn well that that was something didn't have the right to do. So, with a soft sigh she fought her inner voices and body parts to stay still and not do something she'd regret. 

Words couldn’t describe how proud she was of him, he was perfect for the role and she couldn’t wait to see the whole production come to life. Tom would have the time of his life and gain more experience in the industry which could lead to his next job, once the play would be over.

“I certainly will!” Tom laughed and nodded his head, snapping [Y/N] back to reality. They locked eyes and just grinned at each other.  “Thanks again, have a nice day. Bye!”, a loud laugh escaped his lips as he tossed his phone onto the couch and surprised his assistant by charging towards her and then quickly engulfing her in a tight embrace.

“I got the part! I can’t believe it!”

“Congrats, Tom! I knew you’d get it”. [Y/N]’s knees almost buckled as her arms were wrapped around his broad shoulders, his delicate scent filling her nostrils. Her body instantly relaxed and she felt lightheaded, she wished for this moment to last forever, this is where she felt to belong. In his arms. The actor gave her another squeeze and let out a relieved sigh, his body enjoying the intimate embrace, the sensation surprising him greatly. They had hugged countless times (which had always left [Y/N] a sensitive mess like in that current moment), but this time it felt different for him.

Her delicate scent mixed with her sweet perfume  made him close his eyes, his soul suddenly being at peace. The feeling of her soft and squishy body made him bury his head in the crook of her neck and gently sigh out in pleasure. She clenched her jaw in order to stop herself from gasping out loud as an intense shiver coursed down her spine. Tom had never hugged her this way, his beard tickled her sensitive skin and she loved every second of it. 

Her heart skipped a beat before playing a loud song against her ribcage, this felt like a dream. A delicate dream she hoped to never wake up from. The room was silent, their soft breathing being the only thing whispering through the atmosphere as the actor continued to enjoy the feeling of having his assistant so close to him.

 Pleasant tingles coursed through his body as he absentmindedly gave her another squeeze, her beautiful face appearing behind his now closed eyelids. No one spoke a word. Just two souls initiating their passionate connection.

 “Tom” [Y/N] whispered after a few minutes, needing to end the moment even if it made her heart ache. But she knew that if she wouldn’t speak up, he would and probably conclude that they’d been hugging for way too long and inappropriately. When he hummed softly and opened his eyes, he gave her one final squeeze before slowly pulling away and smiling at her. He didn’t regret anything.

 He drank in the sight of her beautiful face, his eyes sparkling suddenly. “We need to celebrate this!” the excitement was slowly bubbling up again in his stomach. The assistant let out a chuckle and pulled her out her phone from her jean pocket. “Sure, who do you want me to invite?” she questioned while trying to get down from the delicate high she still was on. His cologne mixed with his mesmerising scent still lingered in her nose and her heart even ached more now.

 Her fingers slightly trembled while typing in her passcode before she went on the message app, ready to send out a dinner invitation to Tom’s closest friend group. She cleared her throat and looked up again, her heart skipping another beat when she saw him smile brightly at her like she was the most delicate creature walking the earth...

 “How about I cook something just for the two of us and we can celebrate with Ben, Charlie and Idris tomorrow?”.

 [Y/N] let out a breathless chuckle and nodded her head, “Sounds great…”. Words couldn’t describe the euphoria pumping through her blood. Even though he hadn’t officially asked her out, she still felt happy and excited to spend some more time alone with him. She didn’t have high hopes of  something happening but just being in his presence was more than enough for her to soothe her cravings temporarily and that made her gladly accept every opportunity to be alone with him, work related or not.

 “Great! How about Chicken Fettucine Alfredo?”. She grinned, nodded and put her phone back into her pocket. She was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do next, a part of her wanted to throw herself back into his arms and another one to get back to her house and let the previous, intimate moment dawn onto her. 

She chose the latter.

 “I-I’ll go freshen up and finish some tasks for you. Let me know when you want me back” she smiled at him one last time before walking towards his front door, knowing that the actor was staring at her back. “Okay, I’ll send you a text message!” Tom gently called out and watched with a smile on his face how she waved her hand in the air to indicate that she had heard him. [Y/N] then had left his house seconds later.

 “Mhm…” the actor whispered to himself, suddenly feeling his stomach sink. The happiness and excitement simmered down while he sat down on his couch and leaned back. His eyes fell shut and he thought about what just had happened: He had gotten the role of one of his favourite plays and felt like he was dreaming. He couldn’t wait to start the project and try his best to captivate the people with his talent all over again. He was going to play Robert, a man whose wife was having an affair with his best friend of several years. 

 He was impatient to find out who was going to be casted as the other two characters: Emma and Jerry. He appreciated and loved his work so much, but knew that he wouldn’t have gotten this special part if it weren’t for his assistant who had strongly encouraged him to audition for the play. 

 [Y/N].

Tom could barely express how much she had changed his life for the better when he had hired her three years ago. He just had broken up with his famous ex-girlfriend and was being bullied by her fans so much that he disappeared from the spotlight once his work schedules were cleared. 

His friends didn’t see him often as he hid away in his house, trying to tune out the discomfort and regret he felt from letting the whole world focus on his relationship. He was known for keeping his private life private, but the love he had felt for her had made him disregard his own strict rule and boundary. To be publicly ridiculed was one of harshest lessons he had to learn.

That's when his agent suggested hiring a personal assistant to help him keep his profile on the down low until he’d feel better. 

[Y/N] was hired not too long after his hiatus from the public eye, her job had been to see what roles the entertainment company Tom was signed to had to offer and also fulfill personal tasks like going grocery shopping or sending out birthday gifts and so on. But with her already having caught serious feelings for him, she had a natural urge to also take care of him, not as her boss but as a confidant and comforter.

 It was her bright, charming and loving personality along with her soothing and encouraging ways that slowly brought Tom out of the protective bubble he had created around himself. A strong friendship was quickly formed while he felt himself change back into this natural self. A better self.

[Y/N] became his silent rock to lean on while continuing to work for him. When he was back to his naturally charming and funny self in public and private, she had become conscious about her feelings for him. She was surprised (but also very relieved) that no one had suspected anything. Benedict and his wife Sophie, Idris and his Wife Sabrina along with Charlie and his wife Samantha all had quickly grown to love her as a part of their friend group.

The assistant was way more loosened up with the actors wives as they had a very close and strong bond as women. Around the male actors, she was a tiny bit more reserved but just to keep up the professional “I am not hopelessly in love with my boss and don’t want you to know about it” act. 

But Tom was just as supportive of his assistant when life became difficult for her too. Often placing a comforting hand on her shoulder or back while fighting the urge to hold her close and promise to take care of whatever issue she was facing when she couldn’t keep the tears to herself anymore. Tom and [Y/N] had come a long way together, individually and as friends.

“Bloody hell” 

Tom muttered when realising that he had zoned out for a good ten minutes. His stomach was doing flips but he didn’t feel sick or nauseous. The overwhelming urge to feel [Y/N] so close to him again had left him craving for more ever since she had left his house. 

He bit down onto his lower lip when he remembered the delicate sensations tingling through his body, the intensity was something the actor hadn’t experienced in a long time. Or ever. He shook his head, snapping himself out of his little daydream and shot up from the couch. “I should go grocery shopping for tonight’s celebration” was what he muttered to himself before picking up his car keys from the small coffee table and saying his goodbye to Bobby who had waltzed into the living room with a wiggly tail. 

Tom chuckled, petted his beloved dog and then made his way towards the front door with a pleased smile resting on his handsome face.

~~~

“Fuck, why am I like this?” [Y/N] cried out in frustration as she was standing in her full length mirror, staring at her naked body wrapped in a towel. She just had gotten out of the shower, her skin was glistening and glowing from the lotion she had applied to her body, her hair moisturised . She was scanning her body from head to toe and slowly felt herself become insecure. She had this lingering feeling that the hug she had shared with Tom had a deeper meaning. 

 Her conscious refused to let go of the matter and she found herself wondering if he’d ever be interested in her. Her eyes continued to scan her body from head to toe, every thick bump and curve being intensely observed. “Stop it” she hissed at herself, shaking her head and trying to distract her craving heart from the fact that it might had found its perfect match. “I’m just the assistant” [Y/N] reminded herself before stepping away from the mirror and walking over to her closet.

 She didn’t want to overdress for a simple celebration dinner, and quickly decided on a simple and comfortable outfit for the private event; a pair of black jeans, a white, long sleeved shirt with not too much cleavage and a black jean jacket in case she'd get cold.  

It took her a few minutes to get dressed before she focused on her hair and light makeup. She chose to not wear many layers of makeup. Tonight she preferred a natural look that would also enable her skin to breathe easily. Once she was done, she gave herself a final look in the mirror and nodded her head in approval.

 She looked beautiful, as always.

 “Let’s do this then” she whispered to herself and then made her way out of her bedroom. Now all she needed was for Tom to let her know that he was to welcome her back into his house.  “Okay, it’s nothing special” the assistant muttered to herself while suddenly feeling her heart starting to beat faster in her chest.

 This was the usual habit she had whenever she was about to see the British actor: reminding herself that her deepest desire wouldn't become reality and to keep herself in check. [Y/N] had been in love and had loved a decent amount of people but never had she felt these intense emotions for someone. 

She had been with the most charming and loving or shitty and selfish people, the heartbreaks she had gone through were either very painful and long lasting or quick and rather painless. It always made her wonder how Tom had been able to sweep her off her feet in such a delicate yet simple manner, and why she loved him stronger with each passing day.

The plus sized beauty was now in her kitchen, eating a granola bar while sitting at the counter. The silence in the house smoothly encouraged her to relax for a little while and unwind. She had finished the few tasks she had to do for her boss; making sure that his stylist had the suits ready for his public appearances that were coming up in a few days.

A BAFTA event was just around the corner and Tom had gladly accepted their invitation as he was one of the many ambassadors. The organisation had planned a few games with delightful prices such as apprentices abroad for upcoming musicians, actors and artists or tickets to Tom’s upcoming play to encourage people to get in touch with their creative self. 

The actor was thrilled to meet new people and witness others from different backgrounds, to witness them earn amazing opportunities to either learn, travel or create themselves artistically.

[Y/N] wouldn’t join him to the event. She had a lengthy list of new things to work on for her boss. The final Avengers movie would be released in the theaters in a few months but Tom wouldn’t join the press tour as he’d be on stage here in London. But his own Loki series had gotten the green light so he’d have to start meeting up with the creative writers and producers to see how they’d bring the series to life. It was obvious that Tom would be booked and busy for at least a year.

[Y/N] got lost in her thoughts again, absentmindedly finishing her granola bar while planning her following weeks ahead, she knew that stressful days were ahead but she didn't mind that at all. At the end, she'd get her job done.

It took her a few minutes to snap out of her daze before her phone loudly notified her that she had received a message.

From: Tom

Finally, she thought to herself while unlocking her phone and reading Tom’s new message.

To: Me

I’m done cooking, waiting for your presence now 😊

From: Me

“Aw” the assistant cooed with a wide grin on her face, the message was so short and simple yet it made her feel like she was floating on cloud nine. Especially because Tom rarely used emojis, so to see that she was worthy enough for a smiley face filled her heart with joy.

To: Tom

Her thumb hit the sent button before she hopped off the kitchen stool, her heartbeat increasing again as she felt a rush of warmth and excitement ripple through her body. 

I’m on my way 😊

[Y/N] took her purse off the counter and placed her phone in it before taking out her keys. Her footsteps softly echoed through the air as she made her way to the front door with a gorgeous smile resting on her face. She couldn’t wait to see her love again.

“Wow” was the first thing Tom whispered once he swung the door open, his eyes immediately were blessed with the sight of [Y/N] standing right in front of him. Their eyes sparkled while staring deeply into one another. “Hi” [Y/N] whispered, her body relaxing instantly while waiting for the actor to welcome her back into his home.

~~~

“Hello” Tom finally spoke, his heart pounding so hard that he was afraid she’d be able to hear it.  He took a step aside and widened the door, “Please enter”. The assistant thanked him before walking into his house, not noticing how he closed the door while whispering a soft “You are so beautiful” into the air. 

“It smells amazing” she complimented while already having placed her purse on the small coffee table in front of his couch, now patiently waiting for the actor to turn around and interact with her.

Tom took a few seconds to lock his door before finally turning on his heel and biting back a grin when his eyes landed on [Y/N] again. Her beauty and presence were sucking him into a delicate whirl of endless contentment, but he didn’t fight it. “Thank you, I hope you’ll enjoy the meal. How about a drink first?” he suggested while walking over to her and playfully holding out his arm to her.

She chuckled and happily linked her arm with his, his cologne mixed with his scent filling her nostrils while they made their way into the kitchen where she could hear the soft sizzling filling the air. Tom led her over to the big counter where he already had set the table and everything else up, some candles included. It looked like a romantic dinner.

[Y/N] clenched her jaw to stop herself from voicing how pretty everything looked, it looked like a meal for lovers, not employer and employee. But she swallowed her thought, not wanting to risk saying anything that could ruin the smooth and delightful vibe. So with a soft sigh, she turned around and gently thanked Tom for preparing the celebration dinner.

“Don’t even mention it” he chuckled and made sure that she was comfortably seated before he rushed over to the pans and pots and started to serve her the celebration dinner. Her mouth watered at the delicious sight and she couldn’t wait to dig in. But she patiently waited until he was done with his own plate and was seated before she rose her glass filled with non-alcoholic Peach Moscato. [Y/N] wasn’t planning on getting drunk as the next day would be very hectic for her.

"To you” she gently spoke, her heart fluttering in her chest when Tom copied her actions and smiled brightly at her. “No, to us” he added and let his glass with the same drink clink against hers.

“I didn’t do anything” the assistant responded with a soft chuckle before taking a quick sip of her drink and humming in delight. It tasted delicious. “You’re the actor who went to the audition” she added before lifting her fork and smoothly digging it into a piece of diced and seasoned chicken.

Tom shook his head while following her motions, “You did a lot actually. I wasn’t sure whether I was good enough to even audition for the role. But you encouraged me and supported me from the beginning to the end, and I can’t thank you enough for that [Y/N].

Once his words left his mouth, the room fell silent. 

[Y/N] and Tom just looked at each other, so many unspoken emotions flashing past their eyes. The tension had shifted again but not to something awkward. It was like their souls were communication as the sparkles in their eyes never left. They only thought about each other and how grateful they were to be in that intimate moment with one another.

The actor couldn’t stop thinking about how he suddenly longed to be close to her again. Feel her warm and soft body pressed against him, have her scent make him forget about the world and just focus on her. His lips tingled, the urge to feel hers pressed against his overwhelming him.

[Y/N] was thinking the exact same thing, the attraction she had felt for him only became stronger with every passing moment. Her breathing became quicker when her mind started to picture how it would feel to kiss him…Hold him close while letting their lips melt together as one with nothing but love and passion.

“T-Thank you” was all she was able to say as she snapped back to reality and realised that she hadn’t responded to his kind words. Tom nodded his head and gave her a bright smile before both of them continued to enjoy the food together.

“This is scrumptious” the assistant praised with a hum before taking another bite, trying to play it cool while she felt the heat and warmth course through her body. Tom chuckled and bowed his head, blushing at the simple compliment, “I’m happy you’re enjoying it”. What he didn't voice was how he had spiced up the simple recipe, the need to impress [Y/N] driving him through the short time of preparing the meal.

The two of them then continued to eat while talking about their upcoming vacations, the production of the play wouldn't start until a few weeks and the Loki series was months away from being filmed.  [Y/N] didn’t want to just talk about their work and happily listened to Tom voicing his desire to travel to Asia again for two weeks. He then told her about filming Kong: Skull Island in Vietnam and Hawaii. Throughout the dinner, his hand found hers numerous times and he gave it a gentle squeeze before sliding it back and either taking a sip of his drink or finishing his plate.

"And so I had to explain to my boss's ex-girlfriend that he had wanted the engagement ring back but that he was too embarrassed to come and collect it himself! After he had been caught red handed cheating on her!" [Y/N] finished explaining the crazy story about her previous employer, clasping her hands against her cheeks and shaking her head at the awkward memories.

___

Tom was having a delightful laugh, his cackles echoing through the kitchen while trying to imagine how his assistant must've felt in that moment. "That is just crazy! I assure you [Y/N] that I won't ever ask you to do such a thing for me" he chuckled at the end and shook his head.

"Good, because that experience made me add lots of terms and conditions to my general contract. I've actually been rejected a few times because those who had been interested in hiring me didn't approve of my demands" the assistant chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"Like I have no issues going grocery shopping for you but I won't do your dirty laundry or buy lube and condoms for you at 3 o'clock in the morning...". The last phrase made Tom almost choke on his spit before he burst out laughing again, his cheeks starting to hurt from all the smiles and laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed or enjoyed someone's presence this much.

"Shit, Tom. it's almost midnight! We've been eating and goofing around for hours!" [Y/N] gasped in panic, not having realised how fast the time had rushed by. She quickly got up and took her now empty plate, strutted over to the sink and was about to wash it when Tom's voice stopped her.

"Don't even think about turning on the sink, [Y/N]. Let me do this" the soothing yet amused tone in his voice made the assistant roll her eyes and simply place her plate in the empty sink and turn around with a defeated look on her face. "Fine! But I better get going then, thanks again for the meal, it was delicious".

Tom grinned at her and joined her at the sink, both of them washing their hands before drying them and making their way out of the kitchen. "It was my utmost pleasure, [Y/N]". No words were spoken after that as the assistant collected her purse and made her way to his front door, feeling like she was floating on cloud nine.

"Let me know when you get home safely, okay?" Tom whispered while surprising her again with another gentle hug, his arms and hands welcoming her delicate body again. All poor [Y/N] could do was nod her head and close her eyes for a few seconds, no thoughts clouding her head as she lost herself into the embrace.

"Goodnight" she then whispered while pulling away, looking one last time at his handsome face before creating some space in between them, her heart feeling like it was about to combust into flames. "Goodnight beautiful, thank you for being you" Tom whispered, the sparks glistening in his eyes as he watched his assistant bite her lip to prevent herself from grinning like an idiot.

The two of them shared another gentle moment before [Y/N] turned around and left Tom's home. He watched her walk down the front porch and to the drive in where her car was parked. The man couldn't keep his eyes away from her, she was all he could think about and he couldn't stop whispering her name every few seconds while watching her drive off into the night... 

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-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

[cayofdreams]

@mistressoflight​ asked: Just imagine you and Bakugou have been working together for a while and there’s all this sexual tension between you both because you’re afraid to act on your feelings for one another. Then one night at a friend’s gathering, you both are ogling each other. With a little liquid courage, you both decide to stop playing games and give into your feelings and have steamy makeout sesh which leads to y’all going back to your place for some good ol sexy times! 😁🙌🏾

~~~

YES!! We have the SAME BRAIN CELL!! 🤩🤩🤩

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: exhibitionism, making out, groping

He had a love-hate relationship with alcohol.

Sometimes he hated it.

But not because of its bitter contents, but because of how his bitter thoughts turned sweet at the sight of you. In fact, before tonight, he didn’t mind its taste. One could even characterize him as a heavyweight when it came to drinking. And yet, right now as he sat not even 10 feet away from you, it seemed the few sips he’d taken from his beer were already making him putty.

Though if he were being honest with himself, his sweet thoughts for you began long before this stupid party. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his feelings for you became romantic, he just knew that they seemed to intensify with each passing day that you worked alongside him at the agency. Whenever you walked by, he lingered in the scent of you for as long as he could. Whenever he saw you smile, he begged for a way to photo-capture the moment with just a blink. And when you laughed, fuck- if only he could record each snorty giggle so he’d be able to listen to it whenever he felt down.

Perhaps these thoughts of you would be manageable if they were always so innocent.

But now that he had grown more into himself, and allowed himself to feel things that high-school-him would always block out, Bakugou had grown an abysmally deep desire to have you wrapped prettily around his cock.

Those scents that wavered off you would become drenched in his own as he smothered himself on top of you. That smile that decorated your beautiful lips would circle in a lovely ‘O’ as you felt the stretch of him plunging inside you. And that cute little giggle of yours would turn into cock-drunken moans as he drove you into euphoria with each orgasm.

Such debauched thoughts would plague him at every moment you were in his vicinity. He could blame it on the alcohol all he wanted tonight, but he knew these thoughts would only resurface with more vigor when he saw you the next morning.

“Fuckin’ beer...”

“What was that, Bakugou?!” Kirishima caught his low grumble as he plopped down next to him on the couch. “I thought that was your favorite brand!”

“Well it tastes like shit tonight!” Bakugou stood up, turning to go towards the kitchen. “There better be another kind in there, Shitty Hair.”

“Yeah, dude! There’s plenty!”

Bakugou grumpily walked to the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door to peek inside at the alcoholic contents. He must’ve been absent-mindedly reading the labels for too long because he suddenly heard a familiar voice ring out from behind him.

“Can you pass me a [redacted] while you’re down there?”

Despite your dreamy vocals rumbling pleasantly in his ear, he sucked his teeth as he slammed the door.

“Get it yourself, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes at the retort before gliding yourself in front of him to reopen the refrigerator door. “So rude. You looked so bored, I thought I’d give you a task.”

Usually one to continue the banter, he became more enthralled at how your ass looked so perfect as you bent down to look at the assortment of chilled alcohol. He wondered how erotic the sound would be if he slapped his hand against it. Would it sound as sexy as your moans? How much would your flesh jiggle at the impact? Surely the sight would be just as appetizing as your smile.

“Hmm...I don’t see it here. I can’t believe they didn’t get any.” You squatted down to look at the alcohol on the bottom level. Your thighs flexed at the maneuver, slightly parted to balance yourself. Bakugou sipped from his ‘shitty’ beer as he gazed at your plush skin protruding from your skirt. “I guess I’ll just have this.”

Picking up a random bottle, you cracked it open taking a nice gulp. Bakugou saw the liquid go down your throat and he couldn’t help but imagine how smoothly- or unsmoothly you’d swallow his cum. A small smirk graced his face as he saw your face scrunch at the apparent bitter taste.

“Heh- You can’t even take a little bit of beer? Fuckin’ weak.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Hey! I ain’t no fuckin’ hypocrite, princess.”

Your body quivered at the raspy sound of the nickname. It wasn’t his first use of the bitterly sweet name, but you blamed the fact that you’d already had a beer or two on the reason for the rush of ‘adrenaline’ surging through you.

You lifted a shaky middle finger at him. “Hypocritical brute.”

Bakugou instantly took hold of your finger before wrapping his calloused hand around yours. He pushed you against the counter as he looked sternly into your eyes. “I might be a brute.”

Your heart pounded maniacally inside your chest. A matching throb with the pulsating inside your panties. Why were you reacting like this? For Ba-KA-gou? It just had to- HAD to be the beer. A lie you told yourself as you weakly pushed your free hand against his chest. “G-Get off. You’re ugly up close.”

Bakugou leaned more into you, moving his other hand up to grasp your cheeks. He could see the twitching of your eyebrows, the little trembles of your lips as you tried to avoid eye-contact. Your cheeks started to feel increasingly warm against his fingers as he glared at you.

Chuckling, he forced you to turn your head, getting a better look at how your face became so flustered at his motions. You finally met eyes with him and his heart seemed to skip a beat at how your e/c looked so prettily at him. “Back at ya.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the reply as you parted your lips to land another insult. But before you could say anything, you felt the hot touch of his lips smashing against yours. His kiss was messy, wet with his saliva and the remnants of beer in his mouth. You let out little whimpers as you continued to meekly push him away.

You wanted this. And you hated it.

Bakugou used one leg to lock you in place so he could freely explore your body with the hand wrapped around yours. He squeezed at your waist, adoring the moan that hummed against his lips. Sliding his hand down, he reached under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass. The firm squeeze made you part your lips and he didn’t miss the opportunity to writhe his tongue between your lips.

As his tongue ravaged your mouth and his hand ravaged your plush ass, your leg naturally came up to wrap around his. Seeing this as an opening, he took both his hands to lift you up on to the counter. Breaking from the kiss, he leaned over to suckle at your throat. The hands at the sides of your ass came up to fumble at your clothed breasts.

“Fuck...Katsuki~”

With your eyes still closed in delirium, your hands came up to grab at the locks of his hair, pulling him more into you. “Such a fucking brat. How long have you been wanting this, huh?”

“L-Less than however long you’ve wanted this...”

A rush of air left his lips in a breathy laugh as he squeezed at your nipple from over your top. He could see the hardened tip despite your bra and his cock grew from within his underwear. Slipping a hand under your shirt, he grabbed at your breast before pulling the cup of your bra down. He molded his fingers into you, taking advantage of how fluffy and soft you were.

You felt so fucking smooth and delicate within his coarse hands. Even though you worked just as hard as him, it seemed to have no effect on your creamy skin. He twiddled at your nipple, pulling and twisting the bud to hear the various mewls escape your lips.

“Stop p-playing with it...”

“Why the fuck should I stop?” He grinned as his other hand went under your skirt to feel your clothed pussy. His thumb ran over the fabric, collecting a bit of the slick that had seeped through it. “Look how you’re reacting. You’re already so fucking wet.”

Curling his thumb over the crotch of your panties, he circled softly at your clit. Your hips squirmed over the counter as you weakly tried to escape the touch.

“K-Katsuki~ Wait...”

“Shut up. I’m not fucking waiting for you anymore.”

Smothering his lips over yours for another kiss, his fingers slipped under the band of your panties and started to pull them down. A more intense rush of desire overwhelmed you and you opened your eyes to look at what you finally ached for.

But instead you froze. Your eyes met the excitedly red, curious ones of Kirishima as Bakugou continued to press messy kisses at your jaw. Eyes widened like a deer in headlights, you instinctively pushed Bakugou off as you hopped off the counter.

“Fuck, what’s wro-” As he noticed the look of shock on your face and he turned around to see the person for the cause of it. “F-Fuck! What are you looking at?!”

“What are you doing in my kitchen?!”

“None of your fucking business!”

“H-Hey! You can’t say that!”

Bakugou continued to grumble as he blushed furiously at the current predicament. Whatever boner he had instantly leaving.

You adjusted your panties and smoothed out your clothes before grasping Bakugou’s hand and leading for the door. “Alcohol run.”

Exiting out the apartment, you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Okay let’s make this quick so we can go actually get more drinks. My place is close by.”

“Tch. Yeah right, we’re coming back for those losers.” He let go of your hand to give a light squeeze at your ass. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for. Get ready for a long night, princess.”

[edie-baby]

Baby Boy Chapter 8 | Lando Norris

Summary: Milana Navratilova is the best friend of Victoria Verstappen, and is for lack of a better word, a minx. She can pull anyone into bed with her at any time. So when she attends the Austrian Grand Prix with Victoria, the drivers make for good bedfellows. Until she finds a man who makes her finally feel like herself. Her baby boy.

Taglist: @its-astrotea-love

Warnings: smut, swearing, non-con kiss (will be a chapter warning for that one), OC is a w h o r e and i love her.

Victoria and Milana walked through the bustling paddock on Thursday, reporters, journalists, PR reps, and drivers were all running around to fill their media duties, as after today, the sole focus would be on getting the best results before the short summer break. Victoria took a turn to visit Lewis in the Mercedes hospitality, and a few moments after, Milana spotted Lando sitting at a table on his own outside of his own team’s gorgeous facility. Milana walked up behind him, and after spotting how tensely he was sitting, she chuckled to herself - she was going to scare the shit out of him. Ensuring her footsteps were silent, she snuck up behind the driver and slid her hands over his shoulders and down to his chest, whispering a husky ‘boo’ into his ear as he leapt forward and squealed. Milana laughed loudly, the first time Lando had heard her laugh this hard, with no worries. She calmed down, a few giggles still escaping her maroon lips as she ushered him to sit back where he was.

“You’re mean.” Lando pouted, his voice sounding like a sulking child’s. Milana’s heart skipped a beat, admiring how adorable the boy seemed to be without even trying.

“I’m sorry, baby boy. I’ll make it up to you.” Milana apologised, beginning to rub his shoulders with her small hands. Lando’s shoulders immediately relaxed, his breath coming out in one long sigh as he forgot about the stress of the upcoming weekend, and simply focused on the euphoria this small, foreign woman was giving him.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that. Don’t stop.” Lando almost moaned. Milana felt her heart beat a little quicker, her stomach fluttering. She had never been affected by praise, as many of her previous bedfellows had attempted it, and it just never seemed to do anything for her. But from Lando, God it was so much better. Milana remained quiet, occasionally humming a song Victoria had played a few times over the few days they had been in Austria together. Her hands continued kneading into the tense muscles in Lando’s neck and shoulders.

“Thank you Mila. I didn’t know I needed that. Come sit down, I wanna get to know you more.” Lando stopped her after another few moments, rolling his neck around and sighing in relief. Milana smiled at the nickname, the only one she had ever been given from her name was Lana, so Lando having his own name for her released another round of butterflies into her stomach.

“There isn’t much to know, unfortunately. I’m pretty boring, baby boy.” Milana told him, taking a seat on the outdoor chair adjacent to his at the small square table.

“Why do you give everyone pet names? I don’t think I’ve heard you call anyone their names when you talk to them.” Lando’s head was tilted like a puppy, those light eyes of his filled with curiosity.

“It always made me feel special when I was younger when someone would call me pet names. I guess I just got so comfortable with them that I don’t really see the romanticism behind it anymore? But obviously, some I reserve for special people. Keep the integrity.” Milana spoke, looking off to the busy thoroughfare of the paddock.

“What are your special ones then?” Lando probed, his main purpose was to determine whether or not his name was sacred.

“Love, it’s one of my absolute favourites to be called, but not many people use it anymore. But other than that, it's just the baby’s. Obviously, Victoria is ‘baby girl’, and she calls me babe so it’s kind of our thing. And then, baby boy.” Milana’s face lit up as she imagined being called love by someone who truly meant it, but her voice got quieter as she continued. Lando heard everything though, and smirked when he saw just how shy Milana became when she revealed the significance of his pet name.

“Ok, enough with the pet names. I know literally zero about you, I should be able to ask questions too.” Milana pouted slightly, a very rare sight as she was usually smirking or biting her lip. Lando couldn’t resist her when she looked at him like that, her dark eyes staring up at him, bottom lip slightly pushed out, it made him weak at the knees. Lando nodded, so Milana began trying to think of a question to ask the man.

“Why do you race F1?” Milana asked after a few beats of silence. Lando’s eyebrows shot up, he wasn’t expecting a question like that, more along the lines of ‘what’s your favourite colour’ but he couldn’t complain, playing the standard 21 questions with girls got boring after ninth grade.

“The control. I am the only one that has the control to operate that car. It’s me. I thrive off the pressure, if I fuck up, it’s on me. But it's exhilarating, having all of the power, being the one in charge. It fuels me. There isn’t much else in the world I can control like I can an F1 car.” Lando’s fists were clenched tightly as he began talking about control, and Milana could see part of herself in that.

“You’re really cute when you talk about something you’re passionate about.” Milana stated, and Lando’s head snapped around to look at her, she looked completely comfortable with telling him he was cute, whereas Lando’s face was hot like fire, and he knew he probably looked ridiculous.

“Ok, so what do you do?” Lando moved on, his face was still hotter than hell, but he was determined to move on and try to come to terms with the fact that the most beautiful woman he had ever met thought he was cute.

“I work in an art gallery in Prague, and I’m studying anthropology.” Milana replied, unimpressed with her current occupations. She just wanted to be out in the anthropology field already, she loved everything she was learning and just wanted to put it into practice.

“How old are you? I just realised I have absolutely no idea.” Lando blurted, it was the first thing he thought of when Mila mentioned she was still at university.

“I’m 19.” She replied simply. Lando’s entire head moved forward, as if to say ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you, can you please say whatever insane thing you just said again?’. Milana giggled at his perplexed expression. Lando for sure thought the Czech was at least a year older than him, but now he has to find out that she’s actually two years younger.

“You’re so much more mature than I was when I was 19. I was still struggling to cook food for myself without burning the entire house down.” Lando laughed, and Milana couldn’t help but laugh along with the sounds of joy that made her heart flutter. Lando truly could not believe that the woman who was laughing freely in front of him was the same woman he met three days ago who seemed to be the flirtier, female version of the Iceman, Kimi Raikkonen. He preferred this bright, cheery girl over the seductive woman he met, because this was Mila, not Milana.

Their laughter faded away, Milana looked back toward the flood of people still moving back and forth between the makeshift buildings, and Lando just looked at her.

“Would you like to go for dinner with me?” Lando’s mouth seemed to be quicker than his brain, because when Milana looked at him in shock, his words caught up to him. Milana saw how shocked he was in himself, and nodded, a bright smile curling her lips. Lando nodded back, a large smile and a nervous giggle urged him out of his chair, waving to Milana as he ran to the Williams garage to ask George what to do.

[fathertaurus]

A Nate Jacobs Blurb part 2

A/N: Here it is! The long awaited part 2 I’ve had so many of you ask for lol. I want to mention before reading that the opening scene takes place after an hour or two into the party scene and kinda just opens up on a random scene. I didn’t feel like there was any real need to make this super long as I only wrote the most definitive moment for these characters to carry the storyline along.

I hope to continue this story as I do have many ideas but anything I post will probably just continue to be written as installments such as this and the one previous to it, as I don’t want it to be my main line of work. I’m always coming up with new ideas and I don’t like simply having one on the forefront as it places to much pressure on writing.

Regardless I hope you enjoy!

a disclaimer: If you have seen the show Euphoria you know what the character Nate Jacobs is like and what he’s done. This is not me condoning the actions of this character--in fact, I urge you to view him as the bad guy he is when reading this. That’s how I wrote it, that’s what I wanted to portray because I’ve yet to write a character as such. Though his actions may not come off as terrible when reading this remember who he is written as and try and read it in that way. 

WARNINGS: alluded sexual assault, foul language 

The crystalize haze taking over her entire perception of reality right now was almost near blinding to what was happening. The alcohol and whatever that asshole had slipped into her drink had truly and officially taken its toll on her physical being, her vision and balance being hit the worst. Her body laid skewed across the pile of blankets and sheets, having little to no strength to even shuffle through them and find her way up. 

She couldn’t determine though if that was solely for the obvious roofie or also from the shock of watching Nate barge into the room—practically snapping the door off it’s hinges, and ripping Chris from atop of her before (with a speed she had never witnessed in her life) wrestling him out the door and down the hallway. 

Through it all though and the now busted open door she was able to make out the figures of everyone still filling the living room from her placement on the guest bed, the energy to move no longer permitted in her body but simply her eyes which watched with as much intent as they could muster up.

There was yelling, screaming, and a series of other loud noises, all echoing back to her a million times louder than they probably actually were. Figures moved in flashes and the lights burned into her skull as they danced across the catastrophe spilling all over Elias’ parents’ living room wood. Her hands were on her temples before she could even feel them, body making the intent of covering her ears to attempt to silence all the overstimulation.

Bleary eyed she breathed a deep sigh and tried to find herself, but that moment being ripped away as another set of yelling broke out, the shrills emitted from Nate himself. 

He was in the dead center of it all, hands (from what she could tell) wrapped around the throat of Chris Daniel’s as he looked to be throwing him to the floor. Followed by more commotion, a body hitting the floor—it looked to give the tall brunette new access to whomever’s torso, as he barreled his foot into it repeatedly. 

If only she wasn’t swimming her own vision, her own thoughts, maybe then she could truly make it all out. But the way that pill made her skin ripple over her bones and her own brain pound its way out of her skull was too much, focus was lost on her. 

Before she even had a choice to say or do otherwise her eyes slipped closed and she sunk into the abyss of her body again.

Though she was nearing unconsciousness her ears pricked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were distinctively heavy and almost mismatched—like the person was stumbling over their own two feet. 

Crossing the carpet until they were near her own body she could hear mumbling above her.

“God dammit.” 

Even in her current state she could recognize that voice, the one that belonged to the person who was just moments ago beating the life out of someone. Nate.

“Look at you.” He whispered. 

The feelings of hands along the sides of her hips heightened her senses for a split second, a whine rolling from the back of her lips as to protest. 

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay it’s okay.” The fingertips grasped at the length of her dress and slowly they pulled it back down-- the whole movement now familiar to a piece of her memory somewhere in the back of her mind, “You’re okay I promise.”

There was a brush of her hair out of her face, the touch cascading down her face to her shoulders where she could make little notice of her sleeves being pulled back up. 

Within seconds the same arms were now wrapped around her form and she was being lifted from the bed. The rocking of her motionless figure was the only distinctive thing she was able to recognize before sleep finally took her under in one vast swoop of both of her eyes shutting close. —————————

(POV SWITCH)

Swaying gently back and forth on his feet Nate turned the hall into her bedroom, careful to watch her head as he shuffled through the door. 

The memories of their infamous night flooded back to him instantly, but now as he carried her unconscious body to her bed, he was able to take in the details surrounding them. Her room was a light shade of blue, decorated with huge posters starring various artists and movie stars. 

It triggered a memory from a month or so ago. Sat around a lunch table only one over from her own he could vividly remember overhearing her and April Denavive discussing that Timothée Chalamet kid and how Y/N had such an affinity for him. 

”He was so incredible in Little Women, I swear I’d give anything to just hold his hand or something.” Nate from his seat could see that her rambles caused April to snort into her fruit cup, the red head shaking her head at her friend.

”God Y/N you’re such a virgin.” 

She made sure to swat at April’s arm, poking her finger into her side for sure measure, ”Oh fuck off.” 

April laughed aloud once more as she pushed back before managing to maneuver her arms around her friend, squeezing her in a tight embrace before pressing kisses to her cheeks. 

”No no no, it’s cute!” She gushed, “It’s cute how much you want to fuck that French boy but can’t work up the nerve to say it.”

”April! God--He’s American his dad is just French--oh you know what never mind I hate you.” “N-Nate?”

Returning back to reality Nate was almost startled at the sound of another voice, completely forgetting where he was for a moment. Drawing his eyes downward he found himself back in Y/N’s room, still hovering over her side.

“Shh,” he cooed, fingers tangling in the ends of her hair as he brushed them off of her forehead, admiring the array of glitter from her eyeshadow decorating her skin. It made her shine even brighter than how he always saw her. “You’re safe now..sleep.”

She rustled amongst her blankets, nose curling and eyebrows furrowing as she struggled, a huff following.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, instantly taking notice of her discomfort. She whined innocently, sitting herself up with her eyes still wired shut and began to tug at the sleeves of her dress. 

“Itchy,” She breathed another huff as she tore at the seems, “Need it...off.”

Nate’s entire demeanor shifted. He watched her meticulously as she pulled at the material until it was up and over her chest—but the poor drunk girl seemed to lose all momentum as her arms suddenly dropped, the dress now a mess sagging off of her neck. 

Another shrill moan echoed from Y/N, not having the energy to pull the rest of the dress off and expressing her frustrations. Nate waved her off.

“Shush, I’ve got it.” Reaching forward he pulled the rest of the dress up and off of her figure, careful to not get her earrings or hair caught, before tossing it to the side just shy of her hamper he noticed upon entrance into her room.

A deep, noticeable breath expelled from her lungs before she fell back amongst the pillows, body now severely bare to Nate—the only thing keeping her covered being her bra with a pair of matching panties around her hips. 

It was pink, the bra, lace yet exuded softness with its subtle tone of color and petite bow in the middle to add a touch of innocence. Her underwear resonated in the same way; they were different than Nate had pictured when his fingers grasped at them earlier that night. He was expecting something more revealing as was common with most girls at parties like that, or in high school in general. But they weren’t—they were form fitting, far from raunchy and bore a soft pink hue like her bra, which was different than the deep red he once imagined.

And it all looked so right on her.

Y/N had seemed to finally settle in her sheets, sleep overtaking her whole figure as she noticeably sank deeper into the mattress. Nate took that as his moment to breathe in, truly, the sight before him. 

His eyes nearly followed her every move with adamancy, in an effort to note every singular detail possibly manufactured by her sleeping frame that he could then later remember at his pleasing. 

“You are so,” his fingers traced down the length of her arm, watching as the touch triggered a wave of goosebumps even as she was unconscious; He smiled, “Perfect.” 

Drawing back he grasped at the blanket before tugging it up and over her body, covering her up to her chest. Tucking in the sides of the cover to her skin he rustled them until he deemed her absolutely comfortable and then took his place  at the flank of her bed once more. 

“And you are all mine.” -------------------------

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests for more if you liked!

[mydriases]

Silent cry

Jamil Viper x Reader Warnings: Spoilers for episode 4, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 3 600 Summary: In the aftermath, you wonder if his love for you was nothing more than another lie.

Winter break was a bit too long for you. You loved holidays but being away from your love for so long weighed on you. You remembered how warm his lips were when he kissed you goodbye before you went through the mirror. You wished you could have went along with him in the Country of Hot Sands but your family wanted deservedly to have you home. It didn’t ease your longing for him though. The desire to be reunited with him increasing the more you thought about him and the last smile he had given you.

You had finished your homework in a short time, putting in practice every study tips Jamil had gave you. Passing the time while getting lost in the colorful world of Magicam, the notification that rang in your ears easily caught your attention to inform you that Azul Ashengrotto had started a live stream on his account. With nothing better to do and wanting to avoid continuing to drown yourself in the gloom of this endless day, you pressed the screen without thinking.

You were surprised when the face of your love appeared in your field of vision. As far as you knew, Azul and Jamil were only classmates, so to see the latter on Azul's account was odd to say the least. The focus of the camera became a little blurred, highlighting the scenery instead of  your beloved. You recognized the walls as those from the Scarabia Dorm. What were they doing there? Jamil didn't tell you anything about staying at Night Raven for the holidays. Had he received orders from his parents telling him to stay with Kalim in Scarabia?

The camera stabilized again and you were able to see Jamil more clearly. You expected to see his usually serene look, but what left you speechless was that Jamil’s expression showed a confusing wickedness. A sneer deformed his mouth while his arms made grand gestures as he spoke to someone in front of him. You found a look of resemblance with the face he did after winning against you at your favorite game. Nonetheless, you never had witnessed Jamil having on his face such a frightening contempt. Did they decided to organize a friendly competition in Scarabia’s dorm ? No, Jamil would have invited you if so, he always did.

The person who was filming zoomed out and you saw Azul, blank stare and dangling arms, direct opposite of Jamil's threatening aura. You immediately figured out the situation and prayed that you were mistaken. He wouldn't dare, would he? There was no more friendliness in the air, everything indicated a confrontation that took a turn for the worst. That was the only logical reason Jamil would have used his unique magic on someone, especially Azul with who he had a polite relation. But none of them had a hot temper so it didn’t make any sense in your eyes.

And then Jamil spoke.

What scared you, even more than the hatred that seemed to consume your beloved on every side were the words Jamil articulated without trembling. Revealing his desire to bring Kalim down from his position of dorm leader, he seemed drowned in joy as it was clear that his plan was working.

He had spoken without shame, his voice betraying that he believed in every word he said. You didn't understand, you didn't want to understand. In the hope of finding a logical explanation, your gaze slipped on the title of the live: "The dark side of a certain famous magic school". There was no information on the nature of the current events. So was it not a joke? Jamil was not the type to participate in this kind of thing. But maybe if Kalim had asked him he would have accepted ? But you were certain he used his unique magic and he had always been so secretive about it, there’s no way he would have used it in front of thousands of people. You didn’t know what to think anymore.

Jamil kept talking, spitting his venom on Kalim and on his position as vice dorm leader which he seemed to hate with all his heart. As hard as his words were, you couldn't help but feel your heart clench at the sight of the triumph that lit up his face. He had suffered so much that he felt liberated by the simple thought that Kalim would soon no longer be a part of his life. All this sick euphoria was the result of a pain you never knew anything about.

He used the word ‘free’, as if he'd been imprisoned in his role and his sentence was about to be served. He believed that the downfall of Kalim would be his ascension. Suffocating under the most negative emotions he saw only his own hatred, reason disappearing little by little.

Before you knew it, tears had begun to wet the corners of your eyes. Comments from other users were all expressing their shock at this student's behaviour. They were talking about how unacceptable his attitude was and that he was the one who should expelled from this school. Horrible. Everything you saw was horrible: Jamil's expression and words as well as the comments from people who didn't even know him, who didn't know anything about how he felt. Then, you wondered.

Did you know him as well as you wanted to believe?

One of Octavinelle's twins entered the camera field, accompanied by Kalim and Ramshackle Dorm's student. Jamil's face decomposed as he realized he had been tricked, in front of more than five thousand spectators.

You listened carefully to their conversation, their voices muffled by the rapid beat of your pulse. You saw Azul break out of his false hypnosis and Kalim ask, on the verge of a breakdown, if Jamil was really betraying him.

Jamil laughed. He laughed and it seemed to be liberating for him. He had lost, but there was no more pretending anymore. His laughter became a cry of hatred towards Kalim and, as it was apparently still possible, his face sank deeper into this malevolent expression as he conjured up his unique magic: Snake Whisper.

His unique magic was a secret for everyone in school, except for you and Kalim. When you took your relationship to the next level, he had accepted to entrust you with the real nature of his magic. Because you were equals, because you loved each other. And now, while witnessing his actions, you wondered what was left of this mutual trust.

A flash flooded your screen and you heard a voice uttering the beginning of the word "overblot". Then the broadcast was over and you were left shaken in the solitude of your bedroom.

Your brain filled with thoughts, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Your boyfriend was a manipulator (was he ? or it’s because you didn’t manage to see through him ?), he has just overblotted (thanks to someone who failed to alleviate his suffering) and was going to hurt loads of people (and to think that you could have avoided all of this). Did you fall in love with this person? Did you have any responsibility for his actions? (yes and yes).

Your conscience was being torn apart. Split between guilt and fear and incomprehension. You needed to do something, anything. You needed to go there so as to reason with him, so as to get explanations. Time suddenly seemed to accelerate as you hurried to put on your shoes and get your coat on.

You left a note on the kitchen table, summarizing the situation in a handwriting that betrayed a nervous tremor of the hand. You came out of your house -gasping for breath before you even started to run- and headed towards the nearest public transport.

Everything was long over by the time you got here.

You’ve asked everyone you encountered, pleading for someone who knew where Jamil was. The student from the Rhamshackle Dorm was your savior. Explaining along with their weird cat what happened in details and telling you that he was now resting in his room. You thanked the two of them and started to run to where you knew he was.

You stopped to hurry halfway through.

Loads of the damage he’s made was because of the fact he overblotted but that didn’t explain his disturbing scheme. If during all this time he had only been forging a perfect image of himself, hiding all his bad attentions, what was left of the sincerity you had sworn to each other? Jamil has just been unsmasked but you don’t change in the twinkling of an eye. It took time for Jamil to put up with his plan and it will take time to make a fresh start. Was everything before that a lie?

As far as you can remember, your relationship with Jamil was one-sided in therm of confidence. You told him your insecurities, your traumas and most of your philosophy on life. He told you loved you. Being evasive at the slightest question because when I’m with you I don’t want to think about bad things, you make me happy and I want this relationship to be about the love between you and me. Not my problems. I can be your confident of course, but don’t expect to me to share everything. It’s just how I am, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I really do.

That was the first time he confessed to you. You didn’t answer, because you were too busy embracing him and nuzzling the crook of his neck. It was also because you were feeling a bit disappointed. You didn’t want to be clingy if that’s not what he wanted, it was fine, really. But it made you feel like you were not as close to him as you wished. His arguments were justified : when you’re with your loved ones it’s normal to want to have fun and not think about all the depressing stuff that happened in your life. But now that Jamil has overblotted nothing is the same.

You sincerely wanted to believe him, to leave behind his bad deeds and start all over again. But a part of you pointed its finger at him while murmuring in you ear that he was a liar, a hypocrite that used you to appear less suspicious. Kalim choose to forgive him, obviously, despite all the suffering he endured. He has always been very lenient after all. You still haven’t seen him, nevertheless the chances are high that he would tell you that Jamil has always been at his side. Helping him through the hardest times, having been raised with him. That’s wasn’t your case.

If you wanted to leave him you’re sure he would understand. You could find another person to love and build a relationship not based on lies. But first and foremost, Jamil deserved the right to explain himself.

In front of his bedroom, as feeble as the first time you knocked on his door, except that this time it was because your relationship with Jamil was about to take a turn, not because you were excited to see him ; you waited for an answer that never came. You couldn’t be patient anymore. You pushed one of the handles and were surprised to discover that the door latch was unlocked.

Jamil was sitting on his bed, his gaze not lingering on you as he fastly looked away. It destroyed you. You thought you were ready to face him. To accept that he despised you, rejected you or begged you to forgive him, but not that he ignored you. Your voice came out hoarse, as wounded as you were :

" I came as soon as I could "

You wanted to cry at his feet and plead him to forgive you for not understanding him, you wanted him to cry for hurting you and Kalim, you wanted to leave him, you wanted him to tell you he loved you.

With his head down, one hand firmly clutching the sheet underneath him, he gave no answer. For the time being you were still lovers, but within the four walls of this room you were strangers. Because of him, perhaps because of you. You took a breath and knew what to say.

" I’m sorry "

For not being there when you needed me, for letting myself get attached to an illusion, for what you’re about to say, for everything that will be left untold.

" For what ? You did nothing wrong. "

He sighed and let himself fall backwards on the bed. He gazed at the ceiling, eyelids fluttering soflty as his hand was still grabbing the sheet under him. You walked towards him, he looked up to you and you found mixed emotions in his eyes. He seemed glad you were here but also like he would prefer for you to be anywhere else. You sat on the bed in a way that Jamil could not see your face, you didn’t need your voice to become tearful and trembling. The silence invaded the room as you were pondering over what to say. You tightened and loosened your grip on your coat, which you had been forced to remove due to the heat, and decided to cut to the chase.

" Jamil, I know I’ve never told you before but I love you. "

In spite of everything that happened, it was true. You knew that your endearment for him really had evolved in something stronger a long time ago. It's a shame it's only now that you're telling him.

You had to question him about his actions, make him spill whether or not he used you. But you didn't have the strength. Your spirits had never been so low, your self-confidence so damaged. Every answer to your questions would turn out to be a knife stuck a little deeper into your wounds and you couldn't take it. He knew either way, didn't he? He was observant, you were an open book to him so there was no need to ask questions he already knew.

You remember when you kissed for the first time and that the two of you became a couple. Everything was so easy, so simple. Never you would have thought that one day things would change, that you would want to run away from him. In the span of a few minutes, your whole life had changed. Anyone could be a traitor, from the most reserved friend to the one that couldn’t stop talking. Somewhere among these people was a liar. You had hoped it would not be Jamil, that it was just a misunderstanding and a bad joke from Octavinelle’s trio, but the facts were there.

You heard the rustle of the sheets, hitting that Jamil sat up again, and felt the warm contact of skin against your shoulder. Hesitantly, you turned your head towards him and he clutch to you a bit more as a sign of encouragement. His gaze was now overwhelmed by sorrow, mirroring your own expression. He sighed once again and reached into his pocket in order to pull out a bracelet decorated with a small red stone, similar to the one that adorned the ribbon in his hair.

" Here " he said, his voice trailing off as he was finishing his sentence " I wanted to give this to you to celebrate my rise as Dorm Leader but it won’t happen. I don't think I could give you things like this again after our talk, so take it. "

He handed you the bracelet, his fingertips brushing against the palm of your hand while doing so, you started observing the red gem so as to benefit from a pause in the conversation. He seemed sincere which illuminated a beacon of hope in you : Jamil meant to give you this after his accomplishment which signified that you were not a mere piece in his plan. That was one less thing to worry about, remained his disturbing attitude.

You played with piece of jewelry, observing the delicacy of the gemstone and the golden color of the bracelet. Giving you such an expensive item as a present was symbolic, surely it wasn’t just a piece of the richness of the Asim family. Jamil would have prefered to offer you something more personal, not showy but simple. He was like that.

Your heart sank.

" I’m sorry, because I didn’t see how you felt and also, maybe, because I feel uspset to habe been deceive by the person I trusted the most. I’m sorry for myself. "

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jamil straightening his posture.

" In a way, you’re both similar and different to Kalim " confied Jamil, " How could have you changed anything when I was the one keeping everything to myself ? " He crossed his arms, one of his thumbs circling on his skin. " That’s why I’m the who needs to apologize. Not because I regret my actions, but because I’ve abused your trust. If I had told you, there are chances that you would have tried to stop me. Now that I overblotted I guess that it wouldn’t have been a bad thing. " His hand almost went to hold yours, but he suddenly changed his mind. " Forgive me. You were the one person I didn't want to hurt no matter what. "

Although it was what you came for, his apology didn't lighten the load on your heart. You wipped away a tear you didn’t feel coming, silently hoping that Jamil saw nothing.

The light of the room was getting dimmer as the sun began to disappear into the horizon. In the silence and darkness of the place, the gravity of the situation was crushing you. Here we are, the time to choose to forgive or not. You would be a liar if you said that you didn’t still want to be with him. To hug him and run your hand through his hair like before, to work beside him -paying more attention to him than to your homework- to talk to him about whatever interests you at the moment. But it would also be a lie to say something hadn't been broken in you. If he’s lied to you once, there was no proof he wouldn’t do it twice.

" I wished there was a way I could make it up to you " Jamil mumbled and you authorized yourself to turn to him. His eyes were glistening lightly, half hidden under his locks. That was a odd thing to see him moved, as well as a huge step forward.

" It will take long before I can trust you again, Jamil " you sobbed unable to restrain yourself any longer. The back of Jamil’s hand came to wipe away the tears that escaped you. Your gazes met. His expression was worried, his movements were uncertain and his voice wavered when he whispered your name.

" Do you want anything ? Maybe a handkerchief? "

The tears multiplied, but it didn't matter when the man in front of you wore the same expression.

" Hug me. "

More of an order than a request, but Jamil complied without hesitation. His arms wrapped around your form, you leaned into his touch and the two of you sank into the bed. One of his hand caressed you head as you nuzzled his neck, still sobbing, maybe a bit less loudly. From the start, his warmth was what you were looking for, finding his embrace again and spending your time by his side. Little did you know that the moment of your reunion was going to have the bitter aftertaste of tears.

" Can I stay with you for the night ? "

" Yes, you can. Of course. " he whispered, "Does your family know you’re here ?"

" I left a note, they’ll understand. "

There was still several thing you needed to discuss but for now you let yourself fall asleep in the soothing embrace of your love. You had been deceived and hurt, Jamil had been belittled and probably just as hurt. Maybe it was necessary to pass through all of this in order to better your relationship. Regardless, that was all in the past now. You weren’t sure wether or not you forgave him, the scars being still opened and far from being healed, but you were ready to try again. And hopefully, your couple wasn’t going to be as one-sided as before.

Underneath you, Jamil reflected on the consequences of his actions. In spite of all his bad deeds, Kalim, you and so many others have decided to forgive him. He felt good, he felt awful. Mainly he felt grateful for all the kindness he received and that he didn't deserve. Things will be different from now on, he’ll be Kalim’s servant no more, at least not as much as before. All his plans had been revealed, there was nothing left to hide.

He synchronized his breathing with yours and realized you had fallen asleep. There was still a long way to go before the damage he's done can be repaired but he’ll try. Because you, and even Kalim, deserved to be happy. His arm wrapped a bit more around you as he waited for sleep to take him.

It was strange but the darkness of his room didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Hey, it’s been a while. I’m still a silent lurker who doesn’t want to bother at heart that’s why I don’t post updates, hope you didn’t forget about me. I’m still working on requests but I struggle a bit to convey what I want sometimes and end up deleting what I’ve done because I don’t think it’s good enough :’) I hope all of you are safe, my inbox is open to anon again if you want to talk.

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [0.4]

Masterlist

The first thing Eva did when she came home was finish downloading the rest of Palaye Royale's discography. It was as though pushing the arrow on the saturation scale and suddenly her apartment with skeleton white walls and empty shadows was bursting with a new variety of rich colors. Songs that pulled back the whites in her eyes and forced open her ears to this new euphoria that was rattling through her brain and body like a pinball game.

The band's music drifted through the apartment for the rest of the night, tracks on a loop that was sure to make the tenants upstairs despise her. By the time she finished cooking dinner for herself she was lost in the cynical poetry of Warhol, entranced by the echoing of Remington's rasping screams that were never out of tune. And while she was supposed to be working on her latest article, Eva was instead watching the video for Lonely, the entire time feeling like her throat had been ripped out by a bare fist and forced to watch it beat out.

All in all, Dying in a Hot Tub took the crown for favorite. On a Saturday night, when she would usually be out with friends and drinking her problems away at the local bar, Eva was dancing through her apartment, pretending to sing along to the miserable and comprehensive words. A glass of cheap white wine sat on the counter, aiding in her inhibitions for having a rock concert in her living room. Pluto wasn't having any of it, retreating to his bed and ignoring her for most of the night.

Meanwhile, holed up in his own bedroom Remington scrolled through the Tumblr blog that Eva told him about: posts filled with poetry and proses that had him hooked as sure as he was doing drugs. Each post told a story, ranging from questions about her femininity, difficulties in growing up with an absent mother and a know-it-all dad, the first boy she had who humped and dumped her after prom. Remington wanted to read it all, falling deeper into the rabbit hole of Eva Kuznetsov.

His focus shifted from text to music when he heard a familiar sound: that sound being his own voice. The faint echo of words he was singing to crowds not months ago were suddenly swirling in the air, and when he turned to the complex, he found he had a clear view of Eva dancing away under the golden lights of her apartment. She had the screen door opened, not big enough for Pluto to squeeze through, but enough so he could hear the muffled music from his room. He knew he had pretty open access to Eva; he just didn't realize that he could see right into her space.

Which meant she could probably see into his room, too...

It was mesmerizing to watch her, spinning, jumping, her hair pirouetting around the sharp edges of her perfect jaw, all the while smiling and pretending to sing along. It was the most endearing thing Remington had seen in a long time, watching the real Eva come to life. She was uninhibited by people and impressions, dressed down in a pair of little cotton shorts and her hoodie, she was absolutely crazy and perfect.

Mischief soon got the better of Remington and he reached for his phone, eagerly selecting her number and typing. Across the way, Eva stopped dancing when the music dipped, indicating that she received a text on her phone. Brushing her winded hair out of her face, she grabbed her phone off the desk, her face going beet red when she was Remington's text:

Nice dance moves, Frances Houseman

She glanced up through the glass sliding door, mortified when she realized Remington could see her this whole time. Illuminated by the glow of the street lamp, his boyish smile seemed to shine brighter, clearly amused with this late-night entertainment. She took a deep breath and turned down the volume of the music, trying to collect herself.

How much of that did you see?

He responded not even ten seconds later:

Enough to know your hips clearly don't lie.

Shut up

And if I may ask, why are you looking through my window?

I can't help it. I'm vain enough that I get distracted by my own damn voice

Or you're just a fucking creeper

The fact that you haven't closed the curtain tells me you don't seem to mind an audience ;)

A familiar warmth spread through the pit of her stomach and Eva began to giggle uncontrollably; like a child that had been caught stealing a cookie from the jar and was so on edge she couldn't help but laugh. Stupid her for not closing the curtain.

Well I'm sorry, but the show is over now

She then went to the window to close the curtain, flipping off the smirking blonde as she shut out the rest of the world. Remington only laughed to himself, quickly texting back:

But the memories will live on in my brain

Fuck you, Leith!!

I think you should buy me a drink first, Kuznetsov

Eva just shook her head as she read his last message, downing the rest of her wine with a rose-tinted cheeks. Even with the music off, she still had Remington's soft raspy voice ringing in her head as she decided it was time to turn in. She couldn't help but start singing to herself.

"But I'm dying in a hot tub, I'm dying in a hot tub with my cat!" she lunged down and pointed both hands at Pluto. Pluto was unfazed, just staring at her with an unemotive expression. Eva's smile turned into a scowl.

"Well, fuck you too, then,"

✧✧✧

May brought the promise of vibrant flowers, bikini bodies and so many reasons for people to go out and mingle with their friends at the beaches and clubs.

Well... that was the case a year ago...

In Remington's mind, he and his friends had no need to go down to the beach and risk contracting Covid when he had a perfectly safe and clean pool and patio in his backyard. And within the last two and some weeks, he had succeeded in bringing Eva around more and more.

She got along great with everybody, which had Remington confused as to why she said she had it rough with friends. But everybody seemed to like her, and soon enough she had assimilated into their little pod. She started just with sitting outside with everyone, and when she was comfortable enough she came and hung out inside the house. Afternoons were either spent by the pool or watching TV shows and eating snacks. And the more she stayed over, the more Remington became fascinated with her.

Even Emerson and Sebastian couldn't deny that there was something about Eva that was unique; she was sparkplug of quick witticisms and lame jokes that people would laugh at just because she was so cute. She was mature way beyond her years, and yet she still had fun like a teenager trying to find themselves in high school. More than anything, the boys were curious to how close Eva and Remington were slowly becoming.

Remington liked hanging out in Eva's apartment. The environment held a different kind of vibe; like an aesthetic post you'd tag on Pinterest under a renovations gallery. But Remington was inside Eva's world, seeing the random art pieces she had hung on the walls and getting to hang with Pluto on the couch. He helped her bake when they couldn't think of anything else to do, and she always insisted he'd bring some home even when he assured her that he didn't need it. She was kind, homely, a woman with a clean soul and dirty mind who could make him laugh and didn't care when he openly belched after a soda.

Despite the pandemic, Remington was excited for his birthday. Any other time, he was at a bar or a house party with his friends, drinking until he couldn't feel his legs or ending up face-deep in a grimy toilet bowl. Even though the party wouldn't be as fun as it usually would be, Remington was looking forward to at least spend his birthday with his closest family and friends, only.

Eva wished she could have had the same optimism Remington did, but the Saturday before his birthday, she was none too pleased to find that the drain to her kitchen sink was leaking water. And apparently, it wasn't her landlord's job to come up and fix it for her.

"You want me to come take a crack at it?" Remington asked when Eva explained the situation.

Eva's phone was on speaker as she tried to navigate the utility box in the closet to turn off her water.

"Do you have experience in sink maintenance?" she asked.

"I don't," Remington admitted, "But that's what Youtube is for, right?"

Eva simpered, "As entertaining as it would be watch you destroy my sink, I respectfully decline,"

"You think too low of me, Eva," he whined.

"I just know you better than you think, Remington," she replied smartly, "I got a plumber coming by, anyway. And he can't get here 'til six for some reason so I'll be down a shower day,"

Remington's eyebrows furrowed down, "He's coming at six at night?" he asked.

"Yeah," Eva replied, seemingly clueless to the skepticism in his voice.

"What plumber makes house calls after five o'clock?" he said.

Eva stopped short, "Well, he's an independant freelancer. Makes his own hours, I guess,"

"You hired a fucking freelancer to come fix your sink?" he said incredulously.

"He's what I can afford," she replied.

"So he didn't come from an agency?"

"Nope!" Eva huffed, satisfied when she finally figured out how to turn off the water dial, "He came from Letgo,"

It was then Remington had a sinking feeling in his gut. He didn't blame Eva that she didn't want to splurge her money on a plumber, but the thought of her alone with a strange man -- who mostly carried a multitude of heavy tools -- made his hair stand on end.

"Maybe I'll come by and wait with you while he does the job," he said.

"Why?" Eva asked.

"Because you're a small girl letting a strange man into your apartment after hours," he replied.

Eva turned to her window, still having a firm view of Remington's empty, but messy bedroom, "You were a strange guy I let into my apartment," she countered.

"And now you have concrete proof that I'm not a creep, I'm just a little weirdo," he replied, "I'd just feel better being there with you, is all,"

Eva shrugged, understanding where he was coming from yet assuring herself that he was overthinking it, "I mean, if you wanna'... sure,"

"Great!" Remington grinned, "I'll be by before six,"

The early afternoon soon delved into the night, and just as he promised, Remington was at Eva's apartment ten minutes before six.

And the plumber was late.

Eva attributed it to traffic when the clock hit ten after, but then she was annoyed by twenty after. What was he possibly doing that he was twenty minutes late for a pay grab? Remington didn't say anything, though the knot in his stomach got tighter as the minutes ticked by. And when Eva assured him that he didn't need to stay, he simply shook his head and declined.

"The only way you're getting me out of this apartment is with a fucking pitchfork," he told her, smirking with pride. Eva only rolled her eyes.

It was finally quarter to seven when a battered, unlabelled black pickup truck pulled up in front of the complex. And just as Remington feared, a rather large man came falling out of the truck and started trudging his way inside. He carried no tools with him.

Both Remington and Eva had their masks on and the windows open as the plumber came inside. He was portly, older, and he wore the mask just under his nose; a particular pet peeve of Eva's. He was polite as he greeted the kids, narrowing his eyes at Remington. The whole time he was there, Remington made sure to keep Eva close to him.

"So, what seems to be the trouble?" the plumber asked, coming over to the sink but looking around slowly at the knick knacks and furniture within the apartment.

"Well, I'm not sure. It just started leaking all of the sudden," Eva shrugged.

The plumber glanced at the faucet, then took a look under the counter to the pipes. Eva began to understand why Remington was so eager to come over, now. He stayed well on his knees for longer than needed, not pulling out a flashlight to see in the dark shadows. Even Pluto seemed to sense something was off about this character, he leapt onto the top of the couch where he had a full vantage point of the typical case of plumber's crack.

The plumber finally sat back from his inspection, turning to the two kids, "I see what the problem is. I gotta' get my other tools from my truck, though," he said.

Eva and Remington glanced at each other with uncertainty, "... Okay," she drawled, "We'll, um -- we'll be here, I guess,"

"Okay," he forced himself back on his feet and exited out the door.

Not two seconds later, Remington heard the faint carry of voices in the hallways; a couple by the sounds of it. He took a look into the hall, indeed finding a pair of Eva's neighbours unlocking their door as the door to the stairwell slammed closed.

A few minutes passed, but Eva was confused when she heard the revving of an engine outside. She went to go look out her window, and sure enough, the black pickup truck was speeding away. Needless to say, she was shocked.

"What the fuck!?" she exclaimed, "He left!"

Remington came to look as well, not surprised but his fears quelled as he watched the truck disappear around the corner.

"Good," he said, "Truth be told, I'm pretty sure he wasn't here to fix the sink,"

Eva pulled her face mask off, "What, you think he wanted to rob me?" she asked.

"Or something a little more vile," Remington nodded, simultaneously pulling off his own mask, "He clearly didn't like the fact that I was here,"

Eva's face paled for a moment, now grateful she had let Remington in when he asked. How did he know, though?

"How did you know he wasn't legit?" she asked.

Remington scrunched his nose, "Well, first of all he's coming by at six -- well, seven o'clock on a weekend. Second of all, you found him on Letgo,"

Eva shrugged, "I don't trust Craigslist,"

"Because Letgo is any more reliable?" he raised his eyebrows with a petty grin, "This is the part where you say 'thank you for looking out for me, Remington',"

Eva narrowed her eyes at him, "Thanks for coming by, ya' smug shit," she glanced out the window again, "You think he's going to come back?"

"Not now that he thinks I'm here, too," Remington replied, "Like I'd leave my girlfriend alone with a strange guy at seven at night. In a fucking pandemic, too," he scoffed.

Eva looked at him quizzically, "... I'm not your girlfriend," she drawled.

"But he doesn't have to know that," he grinned back.

Eva had to admit, she was impressed. And moreover, quite grateful for Remington's persistence -- though she wouldn't tell him that.

"Aw, I have such a smart boyfriend!" she gushed sarcastically, clasping her hands together before going to fetch her Lysol spray.

Remington simply sat back down on the couch, feeling pretty damn good about himself now, "Anything for my baby!" he exclaimed happily.

"Shut up,"

[soundsandnoises]

Nothing But Thieves with Airways and Yonaka in Cardiff Motorpoint Arena and Birmingham O2 Academy (7th and 10th October 2021)

Bruises have gone through the rainbow of colours and are fading. State of euphoria is a very distant memory now. And demented medley of fragments of the songs mixed in the strangest combinations is yet to leave my head... I've started this review so many times, with notes all over the place. If it was so good (and oh, it was!) why do I struggle to turn emotions into words? Is it because it's been so long and fingers ain't so swift on the keyboard no more? Is it my brain not making the connections as cool as it used to? Is it because it was the first time back – first indoor gig and expectations were so high (and how they were exceeded!)? Or is it because the songs resonated a little bit louder than usual and caught me off guard? Maybe it's all of the above or maybe it's just the season... Anyway... here goes...

AIRWAYS

If somebody told me that tracksuits/ tracksuit shorts could be a wholesome look, I would strongly disagree (to put it mildly). But, but... Four lads from Airways looked like tracksuits' commercial. And one that was done right. That's a fact.

Also if you're an opening act – you gotta roll in style. Dress to impress, especially if it's the night of your band's debut album's release. So they did. What's more, they played to impress. And Cardiff was into it. Impressed, actively participating in singalongs and clapping...

Songs from their debut album 'Terrible Town' were an energetic mix blending indie rock vibes, roar of guitars and rhythms you couldn't ignore and stand still with quite often tongue in cheek lyrics. An album produced by Dom Craik [Nothing But Thieves' guitarist], “so it's not shit” to quote Jake [Daniels, Airways' singer/guitarist]. Also catchy, very catchy – so no excuses for not humming/ singing/ shouting at least choruses' lyrics. If 'Rust' or 'Me and My Brain' or 'Alien' didn't get stuck in your head (each of them for a different reason) then, let me tell you, you did something wrong there.

Birmingham might not have been the album release night, but it didn't really matter, cause it was cooking, heating up and raving... Basically people were enjoying themselves and Airways' songs. Bit of a tumble here and there, I want to say: circle pit? It was condensed and sweaty opener and definitely started the night at the right pace.

YONAKA

All eyes on the stage, Yonaka took over and with a strong start with 'Seize the Power' they were... relentless. 'Punchbag' and 'Greedy' followed and the facts were these: Yonaka is the force to be reckoned with with charismatic Theresa Jarvis on vocals is the fireball onstage. Add to it beautiful speech for “everyone who's struggling with anything right now” and that it gets better before band played 'Call Me a Saint' and the audience was captivated. Ready to rumble and eager to follow singalong directions from the singer.

Birmingham was bustling with energy and heat, some boys standing behind me started complaining that it was boring, but it kinda felt to me they couldn't handle girl calling the shots, 'cause let me tell you Yonaka was on fire and the crowd was going crazy. I'm sure they would sing the praises when left alone with the band, but you gotta show off in front of mates.

Listen to 'F.W.T.B' which stands for 'fucking with the boss', then you'll realize Yonaka takes no prisoners. Heavy beat laced with a bit of electronic, distinct way of singing and unapologetic lyrics created a mighty show.

Also, a bit of a side note: we need to talk about Theresa's hair! Yellow, awesome colour, suits her well. Light went down, light went blue and whole Motorpoint Arena in Cardiff went 'oooooooh' – phones/cameras were out within seconds, 'cause it's freaking fluorescent neon yellow, just adding to the punch and style the band brought with them (sparkling jackets!). And Birmingham had its own 'ooooh' moment with guitarist taking off his shirt, the gasps of appreciation were more than loud and he was clearly amused with the reaction.

NOTHING BUT THIEVES

Sweat. Smell. Heat. Many bodies becoming one organism united by the purpose.

It's not a description of sci-fi movie, it's a concert crowd. Marvellous, loud and overcame with joy. Singing all the parts of the song, yes guitar parts included (Birmingham, that was absolutely brilliant!). Different songs striking different chords in my wired brain. From sombre with tears in the eyes on 'Soda' to 'lightbulb' moment and weird reassurance when 'Free If We Want It' hits me. Words so well known, get a little bit deeper as I find unsuspected relief and calm in 'Wake Up Call'... It may not be the wisest idea to make decisions based on songs, but some people go to psychics, some ask cards, some rely on saints and prayer, so maybe that's a way too? But to the point...

Conor's voice is a mesmerising instrument. He is one of those artists who can stand alone on stage, with just an acoustic guitar and a single light shining on them and captivate the attention of the whole crowd. Just like on stripped down 'Particles' when chills run down your spine as you hear him sing. All that amplified by NBT's intricate guitars and rhythm that makes hearts beat faster, ever changing rhythms that blow your mind with song's structure sounds even better live than on the record. Add shy smiles (or very bright ones) and being taken aback by the crowd singing every bit of the songs, flirting with the crowd and it's absolutely amazing show they put together.

Small sweaty venues or arena, fewer lights and tricks or full throttle lighting show – it doesn't matter: it's always a show to remember, always on top of their game. Even after so many months of not touring. And always an incredible connection with the fans.

Cardiff, for me, was filled with joy and general good vibes, most likely it was the first indoor gig for me since the pandemic happened. I was happy to be there, happy all went relatively well (apart from the minor ticket issue – technology finds usually the way to fail me and it manifested in ticket not loading in), happy with the spot – at the barrier, on the side with a perfect view and away from potential camera in my face, happy with lack of queue drama... The list could go on. Important is, I felt I belonged there, that I was where I needed to be. And the fact it was Nothing But Thieves concert, whose incredible journey I've had privilege to watch through the years, it was a cherry on top for sure.

Birmingham was... intense, laced with a little bit more anxiety (and how I torture myself now revisiting all the things I have said and did and how I should have just been quiet, because I surely made a fool out of myself), technology failed me again but that interference didn't stop me from getting in. Smaller venue meant that there was no hiding from the camera's eye, and yes I did wipe the barrier with the sanitiser (just to be on the safe side, my fellow concertgoers comment was 'fair enough' after all). Inconvenience rather than another drop to the anxiety pool was the fact that the girl next to me had such a great time she was waving her arm and elbow right in front of my face and I wondered if I was about to end up with black eye (I am sure I amused the security guard as I kept on moving her arm when it felt a bit too close and frankly blocking my view).

Even though setlist for Cardiff felt incredibly whole and just right I'm glad I could go to Birmingham and experience it all over again with yet another beautiful set of songs filling my heart so intensely. Minor changes but big impact: 'Soda' was replaced by equally emotional 'If I Get High'. Even though I missed 'Itch' in Birmingham, 'If I Were You' did absolutely smashing job elevating those heart-rates. New songs debuted in Cardiff ('Miracle, Baby', 'Phobia'), but were replaced with something “old” in Birmingham ('Excuse Me', 'Wake Up Call'), but at the same time 'Graveyard Whistling' was out and 'Free If We Want It' sounded like a church bells on Sunday through O2 Academy. I absolutely adore 'Graveyard Whistling' and it was odd not to hear it, but the feeling that was brought by 'Free If We Want It' was something I definitely needed that day: a soothing warmness (?). And '[…] we can be free if we want it, (Don't look back, keep going)...' stuck with me, like it was trying to patch up the hurt within me.

Funny how you can feel completely satisfied yet something within is unquenchable, it's a mystery of live shows. And it's a feeling I've missed dearly.

Airways' setlist:

One Foot

Slow

Alien

Me And My Brain

Mate

Rust

Reckless Tongue

Friends

Yonaka's setlist:

Seize the Power

Punch Bag

Greedy

Call Me a Saint

Ordinary

Clique

F.W.T.B.

Rockstar

Nothing But Thieves in Motorpoint Arena Cardiff:

Futureproof

Real Love Song

I Was Just a Kid

Trip Switch

Soda

Itch

Sorry

Interlude / Guitar Solo

Forever and Ever More

Miracle, Baby

Graveyard Whistling

Unperson

Phobia

Particles

Your Blood

Is Everybody Going Crazy?

Amsterdam

Encore:

I'm Not Made by Design

Impossible

Nothing But Thieves Birmingham O2 Academy:

Futureproof

Real Love Song

I Was Just a Kid

Trip Switch

If I Get High

If I Were You

Sorry

Interlude / Guitar Solo

Forever and Ever More

Excuse Me

Free If We Want It

Unperson

Wake Up Call

Particles (Acoustic)

Your Blood

Is Everybody Going Crazy?

Amsterdam

Encore:

I'm Not Made by Design

Impossible

[apoguecalledjj]

Fixation (Chapter 7)

Series summary: Eleanor is new to the outer banks, and the pogues are quick to take her in. But so are the kooks, and as she grows closer with Rafe, trouble emerges. Trying to balance her relationship with the pogues and the kooks, as well as dealing with her own personal problems, Eleanor falls into a hole she may not be able to dig herself out of.

Chapter Word Count: 3383

Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse, drug use, vomiting, overdose, hospitals

Previous Parts: Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7

Taglist: @prejudic3 @maragritatimebaybee @drewxxrudy @outerbankslove @bricksatanakinswindow @alexa-playafricabytoto @gigi-june

The only words uttered from Rafe’s mouth on the drive home were “What the fuck.” The fact that he had even allowed her into his truck shocked Ellie, for once, instead of taking a chance to beat up a pogue, he simply grabbed Ellie’s arm and yanked him to his truck.

JJ’s eyes had met hers as she was forcefully dragged away, his eyes filled with worry as he glanced at the tight grip Rafe had on her, but she shook her head and discreetly gave him a thumbs up, letting him know she was okay. Even if she wasn’t sure she was.

Rafe’s hands now clutched the wheel tightly, his knuckles white and shaking. Every so often he would glance over, anger prominent on his face, before shaking his head and turning back towards the road.

“Rafe,” Ellie started, quietly, scared of angering him even more. He didn’t respond, instead just simply grunting at her voice. “Rafe, I love you, I swear. I do.”

“Do you? It sounds like there’s a but.” Rafe didn’t turn his attention from the road. The calmness in his voice terrified Ellie.

“There’s no but. I’m sorry, babe. He started to lean in and before I could even stop him-” She trailed off, cursing herself internally. Rafe hated JJ enough as it was, and now she had thrown him completely under the bus even though they were equally at fault for the kiss. 

“Ellie I don’t care.” Ellie looked at him, biting her lip in confusion. “I know what the fucking pogues are like. Especially JJ.”

He pulled into the driveway of his house, pushing the truck into park and jumping out before Ellie could even move. He was waiting for her, he plucked open the passenger side door and motioned for her to get out.

Both her feet had barely touched the ground before Rafe shoved her roughly into the side of the truck. “You shouldn’t have been fucking around him though,” He snarled into her ear, his fingers digging deep into her shoulder blades, her back pressed against the truck.

“I’m sorry, Rafe,” Ellie choked out, her shoulders burning with pain. Rafe pushed her against the truck harshly once more before pulling away.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you won’t do it again. I love you.” 

Ellie nodded quickly, wiping away a couple of stray tears that had leaked from her eyes. “I love you too.”

“I’m going to take a shower. Wait for me in my room?” Rafe didn’t wait for a response, immediately moving to go into the house. Ellie wasn’t far behind him. 

All she could think about was getting high. She needed something to distract her from everything. The fact that she and JJ had kissed. The fact that she enjoyed it. The realization that she was scared of her boyfriend, who she knew she had no true feelings for, and that she couldn’t stop thinking about JJ. 

Ellie knew exactly where Rafe kept his coke, but she was shocked to see way more than she was used to in the drawer. Immediately, she ripped open the bag, preparing a line and wasting no time snorting it.

A few lines later, Rafe emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped low on his waist and his hair still dripping wet. “Oh fuck Ellie what are you doing? That’s the shit I was supposed to sell for barry.” He ran a finger through his hair, clearly stressed, his gaze locked on Ellie, and the abundance of powder in front of her.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow, Rafe. I’ll pay you back. Just c’ mere. I got a line here for you.”

Rafe would never turn down coke, and soon, the two of them were laughing and giggling together, the night finally going right. Everything from before was forgotten, and all Ellie could focus on was that moment. The kiss, the fight, all forgotten as she did line after line after line. --- JJ was stressed and none of the pogues could calm him down. “I should call her.” He stood up suddenly from his spot on the couch, looking towards where his phone was charging in the kitchen of the chateau. It was late now, nearing 1 AM, and nearing 7 hours since Rafe had dragged Ellie away, causing her to miss her shift.

“You can’t call her man. She’s with Rafe. It’ll make things worse.” Pope spoke from where he was sat next to JJ. The four of them, Pope, John B, Kiara, and Sarah, had immediately left The Wreck and came back to the chateau after finding JJ stood in shock alone with his head in his hands outside.

“She’s doing fucking drugs, Pope! And now she’s gone home with Rafe. You didn’t see the way he grabbed her. He’s gonna hurt her, I know it. And I didn’t do shit! I should have done something. He’s gonna hurt her because of me. It’s all my fucking fault!” JJ rambled on, yelling and clenching his fists. 

John B rushed across the room and grabbed him, trying to calm him down. “JJ. You gotta stop. If you would have touched Rafe it wouldn’t have helped and you know that. She’s okay. Rafe’s not gonna hurt her.”

JJ sat back down, defeated. He was exhausted, his head spinning. All he could think about was confessing to Ellie, kissing Ellie, Rafe grabbing Ellie. Ellie doing coke. So many things Ellie didn’t deserve. He searched, searched his brain so hard for reasons Ellie would turn to Rafe, and give in to doing drugs. He found nothing.

“I texted her, JJ. She messaged back. She said she’s good. And there’s a smiley face. You can relax now,” Kiara said. She turned her phone screen towards JJ, allowing him to read the texts.

“We still caught her snorting coke,” JJ reminded her. He was stressed, terrified for Ellie, he wanted nothing more than to rush over to figure 8 and help her.

“We’ll help her in the morning, JJ. We’re not gonna let this go any farther, but there’s nothing more we can do tonight. Not while she’s with the brother.” Sarah told JJ. “Right now we should just try to get some sleep. She works tomorrow, right Kie?” Kiara nodded, and Sarah continued, standing up from where she was sat. “Exactly, so let’s get some sleep now, and we’ll talk to her in the morning. We can meet her at the wreck, first thing.”

Reluctantly, JJ agreed and made his way to the spare bedroom. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep, but not before setting an alarm for 8:30, a half-hour before the start of Ellie’s shift. --- One minute, Ellie was feeling great. All her stress was gone, her mind free of any negativity. Euphoria rushed over her, her body lazily leaned up against Rafe’s as she gazed at the ceiling.

The next minute, she was anxious. She had no idea what changed, or what she was anxious over. Suddenly, it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her throat was tight, her heart thumping so hard she could feel it. Ellie was so aware of everything, her body touching Rafe’s, his hair tickling her face. The way her shirt stuck to her body. 

Her hands slightly trembled, and she tried her best to stop them before Rafe noticed, but she felt as if she couldn’t focus on anything. Rafe felt her shaking, which was quickly getting worst, and pulled away to look at her. “Ellie? What’s wrong?”

Ellie opened her mouth but she couldn’t speak, instead beginning to gag as a wave of nausea rushed over her so quick she hardly noticed. Sweat pooled on her forehead, down her back, and god, why was her shirt sticking to her so fucking bad? She tried to pull it away but her body was trembling, she couldn’t get a grip on the fabric.

“Gonna throw up,” She mumbled as she continued to gag, her vision blurring as excessive heat came over her. She was so hot. So fucking hot. What was going on? Her heart, beating, beating so quick, it was gonna come out of her chest. Her heart was gonna beat out of her chest.

Ellie’s breathing quickened, she tried to focus on her heart, trying to slow it down so it wouldn’t beat right out of her chest, but everything was swirling, why was everything swirling?

Rafe picked her up quickly, rushing to the bathroom. he placed her gently on the floor but realized shortly after that she couldn’t hold herself up. He held her up to the toilet, and it didn’t take her long to empty the contents of her stomach- the alcohol she had drunk earlier that night. She had forgotten about that.

Rafe cursed, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. Ellie had never gotten hungover this bad before, so why now? They hardly had any, and It wasn’t even the next morning. He swore again as he felt her go limp in his arms, she had fallen asleep, he assumed.

He picked her up once again, carrying her to the bed. The heat radiating from her body scared Rafe. He placed her in his bed, before going back to the bathroom to get a cold cloth for her forehead.

What the fuck was wrong with her? He had never experienced something like this before. He was used to dealing with hangovers, he got them al the time, and Topper was a lightweight. He had dealt with comedowns from coke, dealt with Ellie’s comedowns specifically, and it had never been like this. 

How much had she done tonight anyway? Rafe realized he didn’t know. He glanced at the multiple bags sitting on his desk from where he was sitting next to Ellie’s still trembling body, and finally noticed how many of them were empty. Was she overdosing? He couldn’t call an ambulance. That would get him, and Ellie probably, in trouble, and she wouldn’t want that. She would probably wake up in a few hours, perfectly fine. Yeah, Rafe thought, she’ll wake up perfectly fine.

Her phone lit up from where she had thrown it on the bed earlier. A text from Kiara, asking how she was. Rafe frowned, enraged at the reminder that his girlfriend was friends with the pogues, but the last thing he needed was them showing up here, so he sent a text back.

Ellie’s body jerked roughly. And then again. Rafe turned to look at her and his heart immediately dropped, her body jerking and twitching much more than before. Was this a seizure? There was drool, slightly dripping from her mouth, and Rafe officially panicked. This was bad. This was really fucking bad.

He turned Ellie on her side, he managed to remember that. Then he rushed across the room, quickly chucking the plastic bags with remnants of white powder into the back of his quite cluttered drawer.

Finally, after one last look at Ellie’s twitching body, he called an ambulance, gave them directions and instructions, and left. --- 8:45 the next morning, the pogues were at The Wreck. The five of them were sat at a corner table, silent. JJ twiddled with his fingers nervously, looking up every couple of minutes to check the door.

Kiara’s eyes didn’t move, they were fixated on the front door, waiting for Ellie to walk in perfectly okay. None of them would admit it, in fear of making JJ’s anxiety worse, but they were all worried about Ellie’s wellbeing.

Pope glanced at his watch. “It’s 9,” He muttered, leaning to peer out to the parking lot for any sign of Ellie’s truck.

“She’s never late,” JJ spoke quietly, his jaw clenched as he gazed around the room.

“JJ, I’m sure she’s fine, just give her 10 minutes.” But Kiara’s voice wavered, she was unsure as well, constantly checking her phone for the time. “She’s never late,” JJ repeated.

5 minutes passed, then 15. 20. Still, no sign of Ellie and the morning rush was about to begin. Mr. Carrera came out of the kitchen, a deep frown etched into his face as he made his way to the teens in the corner.

“Kiara? Eleanor’s meant to be here. Do you know where she is?” His voice was stern, it was obvious that he was disappointed.

“We don’t know dad, we’re worried about her. We were waiting for her to show up.” At Kiara’s words, his face softened, and he gestured towards the kitchen.

“Come back. We’ll make some phone calls. I’m sure she’s okay.” He placed his hand gently on his daughter's shoulder as she bit her lip nervously.

Kiara followed her dad to the back, leaving her four friends. Pope’s stare was fixated on nothing, he was staring ahead blankly, not knowing what to think. John B ran his hand through his hair, over and over again, it was getting greasy but that was the last thing he cared about. Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes, the thought of her brother hurting her new friend tearing her apart. JJ’s lip quivered, he was trying his best not to cry but wasn’t doing a good job. No one mentioned it, the fact that JJ was openly crying just showed how serious the situation really was.

No one spoke, no one had anything to say. They all cared about Ellie, she had weaseled her way into their hearts and they all considered her a good friend.

Kiara burst out of the kitchen, the door banging loudly against the wall as she ran causing multiple customers to look up. Her movements were frantic as she darted across the room, her eyes wide with shock. JJ jumped up, knowing something was wrong.

“Come on guys we have to go.” Kiara didn’t stop, instead just motioned for her friends to follow her to the van. “Ellie’s in the hospital.” --- The five of them rushed into the hospital, earning many glares from nurses and doctors as they did. Pope was the first to spot Travis Adair sitting on the other side of the waiting room, and they made their way over to him quickly.

Travis stood up, his face furious as he faced the three pogue boys. “You,” He snarled. “Was this your fault?”

It was obvious that it was only directed at the three pogues, the two kook girls not included in his discriminatory accusations. Sarah but in, using her kook status to her advantage. “Travis, none of us know what happened. We love Ellie and we’ve been worried all morning. This isn’t any of our faults, she was with my brother last night.”

Travis’s expression turned to confusion. “Rafe?” Sarah simply nodded, and Travis sat down, sighing deeply. “I suppose I should tell you what happened, then.” He paused. “I’m sorry for blaming you.”

JJ nodded curtly, normally he would be offended but at this moment, he just needed to know what happened to Ellie.

“She overdosed on cocaine. The doctors said the levels in her body were extreme, and there were also traces of alcohol. An ambulance was called to the Cameron residence, but there was no one to be found there, besides her.” He nodded towards Sarah. “I assumed she was with you guys, but now I know I was wrong.”

JJ rubbed his jaw, he needed to know if Ellie was okay. He didn’t doubt that the levels of cocaine in her body were high, Rafe often had lots and he was an idiot when it came to drugs. It angered him even more that she had been left alone, Rafe didn’t even have the decency to stay with her and make sure she was okay. His hands balled into fists by his side, if he wasn’t so desperate to see Ellie he would have already left to beat the shit out of Rafe.

Travis continued. “They found her seizing, unconscious. She had vomited multiple times. I was told the seizure could have been avoided if the ambulance would have been called earlier. But, Rafe, I guess, didn’t call when he should have.”

“How is she now?” John B asked.

“Stable, but still unconscious. They have no idea when she’ll wake up, so we’re just waiting it out. She’s allowed one visitor at a time, Annette is in with her now, but one of you can go in next.”

They all looked at JJ. Of course, he should be the one to see her first, they all agreed on that. He simply nodded, accepting that he would be the first one to see her.

“We know about her mom,” Kiara spoke softly, looking up from the tiled floor to meet Travis’s eyes.

He nodded. “That’s another factor in this. I was unsure if she would have told you guys or not, she was pretty set on keeping it secret. I guess that shows she really does trust you guys.”

‘Will she have to go to rehab?” Pope inquired.

“We haven’t decided yet.” 

At that moment, Annette appeared from down the hallway, smiling softly at the teenagers surrounding her husband. “I’m assuming one of you want to be the next to see her?” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“JJ,” Kiara exclaimed, pushing him forward. “JJ’s going first.”

Everything was a blur to him as he walked down the hallway. “117, 117, 117,” He mumbled to himself, not wanting to forget it. He bumped into someone, he wasn’t sure who, and mumbled an apology but didn’t stop. All he was fixated on was the numbers on the doors.

117. He found it and pushed the door open slowly. At first glance, the room seemed empty, there was no sign of any movement. But it didn’t take long for the steady beeps to reach JJ’s ears, and he walked over towards the bed, a tear falling from his eye once again as he finally took in Ellie’s appearance.

She was pale, paler than he had ever seen her. Her lips were chapped, aching for the lip balm she usually applied religiously. An IV was in her hand, which was rested on the bed behind her. The makeup she had been wearing the night before was smudged under her eyes, no one must have had a chance to take it off. He made a mental note to tell Kiara to bring makeup wipes and lip balm later. 

JJ sat in the chair next to her and gently took her hand into his. It was limp, which worried him, but the heart monitor next to the bed assured him she was alive. 

“El,” He whispered, even though she couldn’t hear him. “El I’m sorry I didn’t help you in time. I shouldn’t have let you leave with Rafe.” His voice shook as he started to cry. “I know I said this yesterday but I have to say it again. You’re doing things to me El, I’m fucking crazy about you. And-” He choked back a sob. “It’s scaring me. I’ve never felt like this before, and it’s really scaring me. And now, seeing you here like this, it’s, it’s tearing me apart.

“You gotta wake up soon, El. I need to see your beautiful eyes again. I want to see you smile and hear your voice.” JJ let out a light chuckle through his cries. “Oh, El, if you could see me now you’d tease me, I know it. All sappy and sad, crying. I never used to cry, not in front of anyone, anyways. I think the pogues have seen me cry more today then they have since they've known me.”

JJ squeezed her hand gently. “Last night I told you I was falling in love with you, but I take that back. The falling is already done. I’m in love with you, El, and I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do, or how to do this. I never knew what I wanted in life, but now I do. It’s you, Eleanor. All I want is you.”

JJ waited quietly, knowing it was far fetched yet praying anyway for some type of response, but instead was just left with the beep, beep, beep of the machine by the bed.