#inspired by myself and my hoodie

[uncanny-tranny]

I don't necessarily buy into the idea of love languages, but I think figuring out how you show your love to others can be such a great idea.

I've learned that I show love through gift-giving and creating things with my loved ones in mind. While this won't be compatible with everyone, the core of why you like expressing your love in particular ways can help you explore how to expand on how you express it.

I think this is important because I think we should strive to be adaptable and to understand ourselves as deeply as we understand the people we love. By getting to know yourself, you can how to appreciate all these qualities about you

[kubota-crackhead]

gaaru

[casekt]

In like 2020 when I was listening to a lot of slipknot n shit, a mutual of mine made a post like "the numetal/mall goth to industrial/rivethead pipeline is real" and what would you know, it really is

[plugnuts]

I took inspiration from @qxs self post and did my own ^^

[noxtivagus]

the moon was still seen by sunrise 🥹🫶🏼

[rafey-baby]

dealer!rafe can't keep his promises and she can't keep doing this...

c/w: mostly angst, yelling & arguing, dealer!rafe being kinda toxic

wc: 1.5k

inspired by this ask (sorry it took me forever but it's here now!)

part one

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Exhaustion weighs down Rafe’s shoulders when he finally clicks the front door shut; hoping his arrival won’t disturb his sweet angel he assumes is already buried safely under the covers and lost in some saccharine dream of hers.

However, when he kicks off his shoes and turns around, he notices her sleepy form standing in the hallway— clad in pajama bottoms and his favorite hoodie along with something akin to dissatisfaction flashing in her drowsy eyes.  

“Hey, baby. Did I wake you?” he asks as he pads over to her; greeting her with a gentle kiss on her cheekbone.  

“No, couldn’t really sleep. Was worried something happened cause you told me yesterday you were gonna be home in time for dinner,” the last part is drenched in accusation as she takes a step back.

“Shit, forgot to text you I wasn’t gonna make it, m’sorry,” his apologetic eyes flit over to her as he scratches at the back of his head.  

“Yeah. But then again, think I would’ve been more surprised if you actually had shown up when you promised,” her displeased tone is crystal clear and it forces a heavy sigh to leave his throat. 

“Okay, I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, but there’s just been a lot of shit going on with the business and—”  

“It’s always gonna be about that with you, isn’t it? Like why would you even care about my feelings when you’ve got the fucking money and the drugs, right?” she nearly snaps; drained from the constant lies and excuses that make her feel like he’s never going to put her first.  

“What do you— what do you mean? Of course, I care about your feelings, why would you even say that? And you’re more important to me than all that other shit, okay?” there’s a furrow between his brows when he tries to comprehend what sort of a train this conversation is traveling on.  

“I mean, do you even know how anxious I get whenever you come home late? When you don’t answer my calls? I— sometimes I think you’re…dead, okay? Do you know how exhausting that is?” she says with her face contorted in frustration due to the endless nights she’s spent thinking the worst and wondering why he could never keep his word.  

“I’ve told you so many times that you don’t need to worry so much, nothing bad s’gonna happen,” he tries to reassure her but she merely shakes her head and rubs a hand over her face. 

“But I do, cause it’s not something I can just turn off. And all you do is make these promises that you never keep and I just…I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” her watery eyes stare up at him in despair, making him frown. 

“What are you talking about? You know I can take care of myself, I promise—” 

“But that’s the thing, I don’t trust your promises anymore! You say you’re gonna do one thing, but then you get a call from Barry or whoever and you’re gone. Sometimes, you come back days later and that entire time you barely even text me!” her distressed voice is loud when she begins to pace around the hall. 

“Hey, hey, c’mere, yeah?” he tries to placate her by pulling her flush against his chest for a hug that, despite her protests, she melts into. “Listen, I know my job isn’t always…ideal, but you— you knew that when we met, right?” he tries to reason along with a comforting squeeze to her waist.  

“I just— I guess I didn’t realize it was gonna be this hard. I’ve never dated someone whose job is illegal,” she mumbles into his shirt before reluctantly withdrawing from the solace of his arms to get her point across.  

“But when we started this, you also promised this wasn’t gonna affect my life. But wanna know what happened the other day when I was out with my friends? This creepy guy approached me and said he wanted his money, and if he wasn’t getting it soon, he was gonna find another payment method.”  

“What the fuck? Did he— he didn’t hurt you, right?” he halts his movements while awaiting her answer with bated breath.  

“No, but it was really fucking scary,” she mutters out as she recalls how shaken up by the whole scene she’d been. However, when she’d dialed Rafe’s number with trembling fingers, the call had merely went into voicemail since he was apparently too busy to answer, as always.  

“I swear he’s never gonna so much as look at you again, alright? You remember what he looked like?” he asks while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, followed by his thumb petting at the apple of her cheek with his concerned eyes flickering over her face. 

“Um…dirty hair, crazy eyes and this scar on his lip?” it’s easy to describe the guy’s appearance when the picture is permanently burned to her memory.  

“That piece of shit— we already had an agreement on the fucking money. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” a crease forms between his brows.

“Cause you’re never home!” she yells at him when her protracted emotional turmoil finally boils over the edge; saturating their entire relationship in the process.  

“I was home yesterday and I’m home right now!” he matches her volume while his fingers tug at the roots of his bleached hair.  

“Well, it’s not enough for me! And I just think that all of this is…too much, okay? I can’t— I can’t live like this anymore,” she admits with a forlorn tone.  

He pauses.

“What are you saying? You’re…you’re leaving me?” he narrows his eyes in disbelief.  

“I don’t know, I just— think I need some time,” she murmurs out.  

“Time for what?” he seems perplexed by the entire concept of what she’s suggesting. 

“To think! All I’ve been able to think about these days is whether you’re alive or not, whether you’re even gonna make it home! And I’m fucking tired of this, okay?”

It’s clear that she’s upset and that these thoughts have been bouncing around her skull for quite some time now. If this is her attempt at breaking up with him though, he’s not going to allow for that to happen.  

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Listen, I understand where you’re coming from, but you can’t just leave…no, okay? We’ll figure this shit out, yeah?” he tries to decipher what’s going on inside that head of hers with his gaze glued to her face— as if it’ll magically reveal all the answers he’s in a hopeless search for.

“I just— I don’t know if that’s possible.”  

“No, don’t say that. We’ll get through this like we always have,” he’s determined to change her mind, but she merely lets out a weary exhale. 

“Rafe, you’re not listening to me.” 

“I am! You’re just not thinking clearly. Why don’t we, uh, go to bed and tomorrow when we’re both well-rested we can talk about this better and—” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this tomorrow!” she huffs out, frustrated, making his distraught face crumple up as he tries to decide which way to approach this in order to not upset her more than he already has.

“Listen, listen. I’ll, uh, I’ll be better, okay? I’ll work less and—” 

“You always say that but— but you’re never gonna change! And I thought I could handle this, but I can’t,” she sounds defeated; rueful eyes flitting away from his pleading ones when teardrops begin to trickle down; dampening the skin of her cheeks.  

“No, you can’t— you can’t leave me. I need you. I love you,” his frantic rambles pour down his tongue when he takes her face into his callused palms— her eyes momentarily closing in response to his tender touch.  

“Rafe…please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 

“And you love me too, yeah?” he doesn’t pay her resistance any mind. She notices how his own eyes grow glossy as well, even if he tries to blink away the liquid yearning to leak.  

“Of course I do,” she hums out; nodding her head that’s squished between his paws— heavy droplets soaking his palms.

“Then that’s all that matters. We can make this work,” his tone is definitive. 

“I just— I don’t know if we can,” she sniffles. 

“Don’t say shit like that. We can, okay? I’ll call Barry right now and tell him I need some time off with my girl, yeah? And we’ll figure this shit out.”  

At that, she lets out a melancholic sigh— resting her forehead on his chest when he pulls her flush against him with a consoling grip on her waist. The warmth of his body feels familiar; feels like home, but she’s already made her decision.  

He holds her close until they both travel to dreamland with their limbs tangled together, the steady rhythm of their breathing creating a muffled melody in their bedroom.  

However, when the amber rays of sunlight tickle his cheeks in the following morning, and he turns around to face her; he finds nothing more than her side of the bed bleak and desolate.

The entire house void of the only good thing in his life.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

WOULD YOU TELL ME TO GO FUCK MYSELF?

bakugou katsuki x reader

part 3/3, part 1, part 2

a month after your breakup, you open the door for katsuki.

reminder that love is not a substitute for forgiveness. this is simply a work of fiction 🪽

inspired by betty

katsuki (do not answer) : have i told you that enough? that i love you?

katsuki (do not answer): im sorry

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you i love you enough

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you how god damn pretty you are

katsuki (do not answer): for not buying you flowers

katsuki (do not answer): for not treating you how i should have

katsuki (do not answer): i know i messed up

katsuki (do not answer): but i wanna make it right

katsuki (do not answer): you're my whole fucking world

katsuki (do not answer): and i do love you

katsuki (do not answer): so open the door, im outside

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

you stared at the texts. evident by the shadow behind your door, he was indeed standing outside your apartment.

the swirl of emotions in your heart threatened to climb up your throat and spill from your mouth at the thought of seeing his face. you should tell him to fuck off. you should send him crying. you should tell him how shitty he is and how stupid he is to come here seeking your forgiveness. you should be smart about this.

but you’re not.

your shaky hand rests on the doorknob, threatening to twist it and see his face at any given moment. but you hesitate, because of course you do. you’re sweaty and emotional and terrified. your hearts been through too much to go through more. how much more were you willing to endure?

just on the other side, katsuki rested his forehead against the wooden door, as if trying to feel your presence from behind. god, he misses you. he’d do anything just to see your face again. the worst thing he has ever done was what he did to you. and the only thing he wants to do is make it up to you.

he wonders if you’ll have him. if you’ll still want him.

and he isn’t sure what scares him more- your answer or your lack of one.

and just as he’s about to turn away, the door creaks.

he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. it doesn’t matter if your eyes are puffed up and your practically drowning in your hoodie. he is physically incapable of finding you anything less than gorgeous. his eyes are glossy, his hair is tarnished, he looks like he hasn’t slept a wink- because he hasn’t.

you sigh. this was gonna be a long night.

“…hey.” his usual gruff voice was replaced by something more sincere. he hopes you don’t notice how sore his throat is from crying.

you don’t say anything, instead opting to step aside, allowing this cheating, unfaithful bastard into your house. you watch as his crimson eyes take in the familiar surroundings, memories erupting from the beds you previously made. you wonder what he’s been up to in the past few months. it was izuku’s birthday recently- they celebrated by throwing a party. you wonder if maybe he went to that party, if perhaps he drank at that party. but you hoped his last endeavour with the liquid poison scared him away from alcohol entirely.

“is icyhot here?” he asks, cautiously. you scoff. of course thats what he wants to know. “no.” you answer, and he sighs in relief. but you almost wish shouto was here. you two never dated like katsuki and many others thought you were, but you’d be lying if you said the photos you had posted on instagram weren’t a bit suggestive. you knew they’d drive katsuki crazy, and they succeeded in fulfilling that goal.

“are you two…?” he trails off, the answer causing katsuki to have feelings he wasn’t able to confront. when you shake your head no, he decides to leave it at that. as long as its a no, he’s okay without hearing the details.

the two of you wander off to your bedroom. seeing katsuki in it makes it feel complete for the first time in months. you two sit side by side on your bed, just accepting each others existences without anything else to add. theres so many unspoken words, so many tears yet to be shed, yet it was the silence that stung the most.

“i’ve you told you this a million fuckin’ times babe but… i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he says, running a hand through his hair. he’s at an honest loss for words. he’s starting to think coming all this way was a mistake, especially when he sees the way you tear up over his words. god, he hates himself for this.

the worst part about seeing katsuki on your bed again was knowing that just a few months ago, he laid on some other girls bed. he took the sheets of the bed you made together and crumpled them up. he deflated the pillows and burned the headboard to ash the moment he crossed the threshold onto some other person. it broke you inside just thinking about it, thinking of the other person he kissed, he touched, he made love to. it made your stomach churn.

“do you regret it?” you shakily ask. you need to know. you need to know that he’s absolutely drowing in guilt, his heart tortured by the past. he looks at you like the answer should be obvious.

“every single day.” he proclaims. “its why… its why i has to break up with us. you deserve so much better than me, [y/n].”

you had never seen katsuki looking like such a mess. he could barely look you in the eye while making his desperate attempt to atone for his sins. and you agreed- you deserved better than him. you deserve better treatment, better love, and a better boyfriend.

and you wanted to scream at the sky, at the universe. scream at them, ask them why that person couldn’t be katsuki bakugou? it was god’s cruelest joke to make you fall in love with a bastard like him.

you look over at him. god, you wanna kiss him, touch him again. feel your bodies pressed against each other, lips on lips while his tongue explores the cavern your words erupt from. that warm, area of limbo between your lips when he ever so slightly pulls away, letting you remove his shirt over his head. you wanna hold him, skin against skin, you wanna love him.

even if it meant tasting that other girl on his lips. if you were being honest, you wanted to kiss that taste away for him.

but you couldn’t bring yourself too. not after the way your heart screamed for salvation, for milk and honey, to be loved without having to give the moon in return.

“i don’t forgive you.” you finally muster out. both of you let out a sigh, yours in relief and bakugou’s from anticipation. he knew that would be your answer, but he let himself believe otherwise.

“i know.” he says, shakily looking down, ash blonde locks hanging low. it was so, so fucking funny- what was he expecting anyway? your forgiveness?

“and. i still love you.” you cry.

“i don’t forgive you. not after what you did. i-i… i can still love you without having to forgive you right now.” your conclusion is what hurts him the most, though you both know its whats gonna have to work. you can still love him, because your heart is so utterly his, and still hate him for how he hurt you.

and for katsuki, hearing that you love him, despite everything he’s put you through, is somehow better than forgiveness.

though he is utterly flabbergasted by your words.

how you still love him is a mystery to both of you. he never wants to taste anyone else on his lips other than you. you’re the name on his lips, the chapstick he keeps in his pocket, the hoodies he puts on his pillow and the person who taught him how important heartbreak can be. he’s fucked up, and he may be the biggest fuck-up in all of japan, but this fuck-up just learned how much he loves you.

he bites his lip, not even daring to ruin the moment. he’s not sure if he’s supposed to stay or go. where does he even begin making this up to you?

but he knows what he has to say first.

“i love you too, babe.”

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

tags! 🪽

@sleepieenaps @suki0 @blue-chup @cookielovesbook-akie @ruu-https @sleepyk0dyz @poemzcheng @suksatoru @naladrawssss @theclassiccherry @sikuthealien

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Camera Caught- Matt Sturniolo

Summary: you accidentally left some hickeys on matt’s neck and the fans catch it, start making edits, and matt “punishes” you

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (female receiving), P in V, Unprotected sex, praising, slight crying.

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL ENJOYY

PSA: I GIVE NO RIGHTS TO COPY MY WORK OR USE MY WORK FOR “INSPIRATION”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Matt and I’s relationship has been very very private, we've been trying to keep it that way till we both collectively agreed to go public. Matt was down in the garage filming for a Friday video and I was endlessly scrolling on TikTok, I came across this edit of Matt, I didn't think much of it till i saw the comments.

Mattscupsupremacy: THE HICKEY?! WHO IS SHE?? MATTS A FREAKY GAL

Chrissypoohmylover: UHM MATTHEW?? what a freaky man.. she’s one lucky girl to be getting that fire dick

Nickismyqueen: WHY IS NO ONE POINTING OUT THE FACT HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO COVER IT UP??

Yamother6629: we lost another one girls… Funeral at my place at 6 pm tmr 😔💔

Thefourthtriplet5239: MATT SEEMED SO VANILLA.. who would ever guess that man is kinky?

“No no no” I say panicking out loud and immediately jumping out of bed and running through the house and busting the door open to the garage where Nick, Matt, and Chris are barging into the garage which sends the boys into an immediate panic

“Okay so you can edit this out of the video but it's an emergency,” I say out of breath.

“Girl go the fuck on, you said it’s an emergency, spill let’s go” Nick says snapping his fingers.

“Okay, patience, so I was scrolling through TikTok like normally waiting for you guys to finish filming and I scroll across this Matt edit,” I say trying to find the edit on my phone.

“Y/N how many times do I have to tell you to stop watching edits of me, I'm right here no need to fangirl over me,” Matt says with a sense of cockyness in his voice.

“No no hold on it gets better, so I scroll through the comments cause you know it's funny watching as the 12-year-olds talk about you being their ‘baby’-” start before Chris cut me off

“GET TO THE FUCKING POINT YAPPER,” Chris says throwing his hands in the air

“Says the one who goes on about putting a literal tit milk-drinking infant in the backseat of a car with no car seat. So let's not talk about her yapping” nick defends.

“ANYWAYS, Matt you forgot to cover your hickeys from the other night and everyone knows about it now, cause when you moved out of frame your hoodie must have come down, and there are edits and people calling you ‘vanilla’ whatever the hell that means, and like everyone is wondering who the girl is and I'm like panicking now,” I say with panic in my voice “I know you weren't ready to go public but everyone is like freaking the fuck out” I continue.

“Fuck, I thought the hoodie was a good cover” matt sighs “look its fine well figure it out after I'm done filming just go back inside and calm the hell down” he gives me a quick peck on my forehead and shutting the door of the car.

A couple of minutes later I got a text from matt, normally he does send me the occasional ‘i love you, almost done filming’ message but this one was a little different.

Matty B Rapz 💍

you’re in big trouble for getting us caught

i hope you ain’t tired cause you’re in for a long night

This wasn't out of the normal for Matt to be rough with me but over text? This is new, but I love it. I could feel myself getting soaked at all the possible ways Matt could fuck me, all the positions, thinking of all the ways in which he could make me cum.

After an hour and a half of endless scrolling through TikTok, I can hear the footsteps of Matt through the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was filming?” I say as he walks in the door immediately shutting it and locking it.

“Don't ‘baby’ me, strip,” he says harshly as his eyes darken with lust.

A smirk appeared on my lips, and moved off the bed walking towards him as I placed my phone down on the bedside table and slowly and teasingly removed my pants and shirt leaving me in my light pink lingerie set that I knew drove him insane, the way it hugged my curves, pushed my Brests up with a small delicate flower in the middle, and my underwear that sat and hung onto my hips with another small flower in the middle of it.

“So fucking sexy,” Matt says under his breath causing a light shade of pink to appear on my cheeks.

Matt wraps his arms around my torso and unclips my bra letting my breasts fall and the straps of my bra fall off my arms. He lightly pushes me back so I'm sitting on our shared bed as he places a deep and passionate kiss on my lips.

I yearn for more of his lips but he pulls away from me and starts trailing light kisses down my jaw and to my neck and sucking harshly on my neck so we have matching marks on my neck and soft moans escaping my lips.

“Since you had to go and get us caught,” he starts before sucking harsher in my neck in a pattern this time. “Everyone's gonna know who you belong to now” he pulls away walking back a couple of steps to admire the marks he left on my neck.

‘M’

His initial was spelled out on my neck.

“And you're not gonna cover that up. Got it?” he spits walking towards me and wrapping his hand around my neck.

“Yes, Matt” I whisper out

“Good fucking girl” he removes his hand from my neck and pushes me down so my back is now on the bed flat.

He lowers his body down, basically on his knees, and he leaves kisses down my stomach before kissing over my clothed pussy and a soft whimper comes out of my lips.

Using his teeth he guides my underwear off my legs and throws them on the floor with a smirk plastered on his face.

His face between my legs was always a sight for sore eyes, never failed to turn me on the way his blue eyes always stared at me through his eyelashes. He places small kisses around my thighs eventually making his way down to my dripping pussy and placing kisses everywhere around it but where I need him the most.

“Matt, please” I plead.

“What are you begging for? Use that filthy mouth of yours and tell me what you want” he says harshly.

“I need your mouth, please” i whine.

He smirks and uses his tongue to move up and down my folds collecting my juices he lets out a groan as the taste of my pussy touches his tongue. His lips attach to my clit sucking harshly on it.

“FUCK MATT” My back arches and my eyes roll back basically seeing my brain.

His tongue explores every inch of me as he keeps a steady gaze on me and how my body reacts to his mouth. His fingers trail into my begging hole that's clenched around the air begging to be fulfilled curling his slim fingers upward reaching a spot I could never reach by myself.

“MATT” I scream out as My thighs close his head in.

“Legs stay open” he mutters through my pussy.

His fingers now moving at a pace that's driving me absolutely insane, his muted moans against my pussy is only turning me on more.

“close” i breathe out trying not to strain my voice.

“hold it,” he says muttering against me as his nose flicks my clit digging his face deeper into my pussy. He was almost moaning as much as I was, typically he didn't even care if he cums, he gets off at watching me come unglued from his mouth or fingers.

“Please” I repeat pleading with matt.

“No, you're gonna hold it and you're gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be” he lifts his head continuing his pace with his fingers.

His gaze never left me, the way my back arched off the bed and my eyes rolled back just at his fingers was always so amusing to him.

“You always look so beautiful wrapped around my fingers,” he says smirking down at me and taking his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to arch his fingers inside me.

“PL-PLEA- CUM” i mutter unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Go ahead baby, let it all out” he coos in my ear in a low raspy voice.

The knot in my stomach snaps, and my orgasm hits me like a bus, my legs shake as my cum drips down into his fingers. he removes his fingers licking off my cum from them.

“Face down ass up, I ain't done with you” he says sternly.

I slowly nod turning around and holding myself up by my elbows taunting my ass around in the air. Matt smirks to himself removes his hoodie, and quickly removes his boxers and pants throwing all his clothes somewhere in the room.

I feel the bed dip down from the weight of his knees behind me. He reaches his arm around to my mouth places his hand below my mouth.

“Spit” he says harshly.

I obey spitting in his hand as he uses my spit to rub around the tip of his cock moving his hand up and down to coat his cock.

Matt aligns himself with my entrance and immediately bottoms out letting a loud groan escape his lips as my hips jerk backward and a loud whine leaks from my lips.

“You think you're so fucking innocent huh? Leaving those fucking hickeys on my neck” he spits thrusting harshly into me gripping onto my hair and pushing my head far into the mattress.

“I-im SO-SORRY” I scream into the mattress.

“Oh, you're sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn't be creaming all over my fucking. dick.” he says thirsting harder to annunciate his last two words as his head hangs low to look down at the white rim that's formed around the base of his cock.

“FUCKK” I whine out with tears starting to form in my eyes from the overstimulation. “CANT- CANT-TAKE” I muffle out as his hand pushes my head farther in the bed.

“You wanted this” he grunts “You take it” his hand travels down my body and starts to toy with my sensitive clit.

“OH BABY-” i scream out as my cervix begins to twitch around his cock signaling how close I was.

“Oh you think you're gonna cum soon?” he taunts rubbing faster on my clit as his thrusts begin getting sloppier.

“Pl-pl-please” I whisper yell to him.

“You're so fucking pathetic” he groans out using both hands and pressing my waist down the bed and rolling his hips into me getting deeper and kissing my cervix with his cock.

My legs began to shake and tremble “CLOSE” i choke out. his grip on my waist loosens up as he leans down and kisses my back.

“let it go, baby, let it all out” With that, the knot in my stomach breaks and I squirt all over the bed leaving a wet mess beneath me. “God damn baby you're so fucking sexy” he leaves small kisses on my neck as his thrusts got even sloppier.

“Oh fuck” he buries his head in my neck and groans as his cum begins to shoot out of him filling my hole of his cum.

He softly pulls out of me rolling me over now laying on my back and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” he smiles down at me and I shoot him a small smile back.

He throws on the same pair of sweatpants from earlier and walks softly and carefully to the bathroom wetting a small rag and bringing it back into the room.

“You did amazing, Y/N” he smiles up at me as he carefully runs the warm wash rag down my legs and anywhere else that was covered in cum.

“I am sorry about getting us caught, I know that we didn't want to go public just yet” I softly whisper as he makes his way next to me bringing me into his arms and placing a kiss down on my head.

“Hey, don't worry about it. We'll figure it out in the morning. But for now, just get some sleep," he says, running his fingers through my hair and occasionally kissing my head. We eventually drifted asleep, intertwined with each other.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PT 2 HI LOVES!! IDK how to feel ab this one but i hope you guys enjoyed it! I hope you're doing amazing!! And have an amazing day/night/evening!!

Xoxo

Gabs 💋

[jellitchi]

vat7k designs in my head...

i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.

i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,

i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist

Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist

yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist

miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist

uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

[beanarie]

inspired by this post by @monstream theorizing that tommy will pop back up in a couple months and reveal he dipped out like his ass was on fire because he got a cancer diagnosis. (be advised: this is not about real cancer. this is tv cancer.) 1300 words.

a chance encounter

Bobby still has a blood donation appointment at First Presbyterian every two months, which he attends religiously, barring exemptions like the six months he had to skip after the heart attack. Years ago, when it started, Chimney arranged a rotation for rides, and as their team went through staffing changes, it settled to a more informal thing, whichever of them would be available verbally stepping up each time. Athena would have been the logical choice with one of the 118 as backup, but this is theirs. Buck likes it because usually he and Bobby stop for a meal and catch up, just the two of them.

On their way to the elevators, they hear applause in the next wing over, and Bobby gives Buck a little smile before they join the gathering at the back of the small crowd. He loves a bell ceremony.

A teen girl in a green hoodie that reaches her knees is blushing and stumbling over her words, flustered by the attention. "Anyway," she says, "I'm not gonna be sick at prom and I'm so effing excited." She rings the bell and pumps a fist in the air before hugging one of the nurses.

"All right," says a blonde woman holding a clipboard. "We have three more patients who completed treatment! I know, right? It's been a good week."

Buck looks down at the coffee he grabbed from the on-site cafe while Bobby was getting drained, which tastes different somehow but he can't put his finger on it. Soy milk, maybe? A sharp nudge forces him to look up into Bobby's suddenly tense expression.

"Well. So... yeah. These last few months have sucked."

Buck swings his head around and Bobby grabs the coffee out of his hand. There, acknowledging a round of polite laughter, is Tommy, dressed in a henley and flannel shirt, all in shades of blue. Buck always liked him in blue. He looks slimmer, more like the version of himself from Chim and Hen's old team photos. He's wearing a Raiders hat.

"I knew, as a firefighter who flew helicopters, that I probably didn't have the highest life expectancy. But this diagnosis still threw me for a loop."

Buck should not be here. He should not be here. But he can't convince his feet to move.

"I did some dumb things, isolated myself, assumed the worst. It was the staff here who kept--gently--smacking me upside the head, reminding me that there was still hope." Tommy ducks his head and when he looks up eyes are bright. "Thank God for them."

Buck feels like he is stuck in a column of rapidly curing cement. It started down at his feet and now his lungs won't inflate.

"Buck," Bobby hisses, tugging at his sleeve.

"Bug your city council rep to increase compensation for healthcare workers because there's no way they get paid enough to deal with my bullshit." A cluster of small children at the front of the group starts howling at the swear, and he grins, unrepentant. Buck might be drowning. "Thank you, everyone. Fuck cancer." He rings the bell and steps back quickly for the next patient, accepting good-natured pummeling from several members of the staff as everyone applauds.

The smile that settled on Tommy's face vanishes as their eyes meet. The column of cement also vanishes. Breathing hard, his pulse hammering in his ears, Buck follows Bobby down the hall to the elevators.

"Buck?"

It still sounds so wrong coming from him. Buck flinches and looks at the slowly progressing display of which floor the elevator is on. Stairs it is. "I'll meet you down there," he says to Bobby, and doesn't wait for a response.

Buck plows through the door to the stairwell, moving as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Please? I can follow for a little bit, but fourteen flights of stairs is beyond me at the moment."

Buck slows his progress down, stopping at the next landing.

"What-" Tommy takes the stairs slowly, one by one. "What are you doing here? How did you find out?"

Buck glances up. "I didn't. We just happened to be in the neighborhood. This place is our home away from home, you know?"

"Oh," Tommy says, then has the nerve to look concerned. "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm not fucking okay. Did you know you were sick?"

"When?" he temporizes. "I mean, they did tell me at one point."

"You know when," Buck says, seething, his vision growing redder when Tommy doesn't answer. "I asked you to move in with me." I was all in. You didn't have to do this alone.

Tommy finishes the last few steps and joins him on the landing. "You asked your gym rat firefighter boyfriend to move in with you. Not an unemployed puke machine with a thirty-nine percent chance of kicking it in the next five years."

"Oh my God." Buck laughs, wanting to scream at the wall. "So I'm not a newborn bisexual who couldn't possibly know what I want, I'm just a piece of shit who would drop a partner for getting sick. Or maybe I'm both."

"No, I-"

"If you say 'it wasn't you, it was me' I'm gonna start taking these steps three at a time."

"It was-" Up close, Tommy looks tired. There are lines in his face that weren't there before. "Significantly more about me and my trust issues than it was about you. Is that different enough for you to stick around?"

"You gave me trust issues, Tommy. Not just in you, or other people I might date, but in myself."

Tommy's expression is gutted. "I'm sorry. I was trying to avoid more pain in the future, for both of us."

Sparing a thought for Bobby, who hopefully settled in the lobby to wait, Buck sits on the landing, wedging himself against the wall to take up less space. "I loved you."

"I believe you." Tommy sat down next to him, almost touching because of the width of the staircase. "I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings. You're a grown man and all I can say in my defense is that I become the fucking unabomber when I get scared. Ask Howie and Hen about my years as a closet case working under a captain who got a medal for outstanding work in homophobia."

It would be so easy to pull Tommy into his arms. Just reach out.

"Buck?"

Buck swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Please don't call me that."

"I'm sorry. I honestly felt I gave up the right to set myself apart in that way." Tommy swallows. "Evan."

Buck blinks away a fresh round of tears. "Are you okay, really?"

Tommy gestures at himself. "As you can see, I'm not going out tomorrow and running a marathon, but next week I get to start training to go back to work." He shrugs a little, smiling. "So I'm pretty damn peachy."

"What about the thirty-nine percent?"

Tommy whistles while pointing down. "It's pretty much back to whatever my prognosis was for running into fires and flying around in a tin can."

"That's- That's great." Buck's phone rings.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt anything," Bobby says. "I just didn't want to leave without saying something. I'll get an Uber, okay?"

"No. No, we're good. I'll see you in five." Buck meets Tommy's steady gaze. "Next week, huh? Do you wanna go for a run at that park near my place? I promise to take it easy on you. Or, not easy, whichever you need."

Tommy visibly stops himself from declining. "Okay. Text me." He rises from the steps and starts for the exit door as Buck begins his way down. "Evan?"

Buck turns. "Yeah?"

"I loved you, too."

Breathing out, Buck rolls his shoulders back. "I figured. See you next week."

[moonlit-imagines]

No One’s Sidekick

Jason Todd x teen!reader

warnings: needles and guns and death mentions ya know

a/n: ok i was gonna do headcanons for this but honestly it sparked a lot of inspiration so im actually writing a oneshot for it this is a ONE IN A MILLION CHANCE bc im very picky about when to write oneshots ily. might do hcs also just cuz arkham knight is my passion. (honestly i should have just done hcs idk if i like where i went with this LMAO)

prompt: anonymous: “hi idk if you write Arkham Jason Todd but if if you do is it possible if you can do a Arkham Jason Todd x fem teen reader and reader is his sidekick”

Imagine a life where you had nothing, you were the lowest anyone could go, and you were just a kid. Now imagine that there was someone standing in front of you, telling that same story, and offering you a chance to turn it all around because they knew how it felt to be you.

That someone was Jason Todd. You found each other by chance, somewhere in the Gotham slums. He walked past you down a dimly lit alley full of used needles and rotting trash, noticing a kid just a few years younger hiding from the world. You noticed a guy in a hoodie hiding a nasty scar on his cheek.

He reached out a hand, hoping you’d take it. He saw a look in your eyes that you’d been like this a while. And you might have noticed the same in his. Which is why after trusting nobody for years, you took this stranger’s hand. “I remember when I was a kid waiting in shitty places woth the hope someday it’d change. And it did one day. Someone found me and changed my life.” He explained after buying you a burger and fries.

“Was it for the better?” You asked him with a mouthful of food.

“I don’t know anymore.” He looked shaken himself, and you could tell by the bags under his eyes this may have been a subject that kept him up at night, maybe took up his waking moments, too. “How long have you been alone?”

“Practically forever. Every once in a while I felt like I was on steady ground and then…something always happens.” You sighed, taking a sip of your soda. “But I learned how to get by on my own. I had to. And I have to protect myself.” Jason raised a brow.

“You protect yourself yet you’re willing to go off with a stranger?” He asked, giving you a warm smile.

“Jason, right?” He nodded at the question. “Jason Todd?” His expression dropped. Before he could stammer out a response, you leaned back on your side of the booth and said, “everyone around here knows you one way or another, but everyone thought you were dead after you disappeared.”

“Did you know who I was when you came here with me?” Jason spoke lowly.

“Nope.” You flatly responded. “But I figured it out along the way. You used to live in my building when I was a kid, I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

“3B?” He asked.

“That’s the one. You remember?” You smiled.

“I remember a scared little kid with dirt all over their face no matter what time of day.” You both chuckled. “Wow, it’s been a long time. I guess I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“It’s nice. I just don’t know where to go from here.” You took the last few bites from your meal, averting your eyes from his gaze, nervous for what was to come, but also hopeful. At this point, you didn’t care what you did or where you went, as long as you had some kind of purpose. Spending your youth in sleeping in wet boxes or crashing on a sunken-in, stained couch was no longer something you could stand doing.

“I had an idea. A while ago. But I just didn’t know how to go about it.” He revealed with a long pause, mustering up better details to share. “I dont know. It sounds crazy, but maybe not anymore.”

“Can you get to the point?” You tilted your head, eager for a bit more.

“Yeah, yeah…” He gulped. “I talked to this guy, it was after some really bad shit went down,” he brushed his scarred cheek, “this high-profile assassin wanted to train me—work with me. There are some demons I have to face, but I need some help to get ready.” You stared blankly for a minute, fingernail scratching the tabletop as you thought about his words. “It’s out of the country, somewhere in South America.”

“You’re crazy.” You stated. “I’m in.” Jason’s eyes widened. “Anything to get me out of Gotham. And you’re Jason Todd, I’d trust you with my life, even after all this time.” His expression softened and he kind of chuckled, in disbelief of you and himself.

“I—I guess I gotta go make a call.” Jason knocked his hand on the table. “Go ahead and order dessert, I’ll be back in a few.” He stepped out the front door and opened his phone, scrolling down to a contact labeled “S. Wilson.” It rang twice. “I’m in, and one more will be joining us.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for your travels, stay on the line.” Said Slade, there were faint keyboard clicks. “I have a private jet that awaits you at eight a.m. tomorrow. I will send you the address, don’t be late.” The phonecall ended abruptly and Jason went back to your table, finding you eating a slice of pie.

“Tomorrow morning we get to fly in a private jet.” Jason saw your face light up. “Never been?”

—————

Venezuela was incredible to you, even if it was a bit more humid than you were used to. On the plane ride, Jason told you everything. He didn’t spare one detail, he didn’t care. You were another Gotham City orphan with a dark past and a bright future. You two were ready for anything.

It was grueling. It was incredible. It was nothing you’d experienced before. Which was terrifying. But invigorating. You could tell Jason felt right back in his element, but you were desperately trying to catch up. He’d had much training before this, relevant to the current situation. You’re training went as far as standard Gotham Slums scuffling. Your skills included switchblade maneuvers, aiming for the crotch, running from trouble and climbing from trouble. Nothing like this ever seemed possible for you. But Jason knew what it felt like to be brought from your level to his. And as Deathstroke brought Jason to his level, he’d make sure you’d catch up.

—————

“I think you two are ready.” Slade announced as both of you stood before him. Straight backs, eyes forward, and arms behind your backs. “The plan is to be enacted soon, and you,” he turned his attention to Jason, “it’s up to you what we do from here. Gotham City finally meets its match?” He suggested. Jason nodded his head once and you followed. And so it began, the planning phase.

—————

You looked at Gotham from down below. Smaller than you remembered. The whirring of the helicopter blades lulled you away from reality for a few moments before Jason tapped you, motioning for you to come up front with him. You slid your headset on and heard him begin barking orders at the militia before setting your comms to private. “How’s it feel?” Jason asked you.

“I don’t know, actually.” You replied, doing a final check to make sure your guns were loaded and secured. “What about you?”

“It feels like I’m finally getting my revenge.” His voice modulator sent a chill down your spine and you soon landed in Gotham. The plan went off without a hitch. Gotham evacuated, scum running loose, Batman distracted, and his allies scattered. It was exciting, but something was off. Scarecrow’s plan didn’t sit well with you. It was gruesome, even to you. You never really cared about anyone but yourself, but as Jason lost his humanity, you gained it. “I’ve got your back, y/n. You got mine?”

“Always, Knight.” He chuckled as the chopper began to descend. “Let’s kill the Batman.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend //

[not-magdi]

-ucl nights / lamine yamal

Warnings: None, well the loss yesterday (I think that should be a warning to)

Words: 756

Reading Time: 5min 53sec

A/n

This story was inspired by yesterday, I kind of tried to comfort myself with it so yeah I hope you'll like it.

Love y'all Magdi

1:4, that was the end. Barcelona was out of the Champions League. They fought so hard, especially Lamine. That boy gives his heart and soul every time he plays, so a loss hits him extremely hard. But this one was different. After a period of losses, the last few wins made hope spark in everyone's chest.

It was also painful for you to watch. Being a barça fan since you were a little kid. But nothing prepared you for the emotions you would feel as you saw the player's faces when they walked past you in the tunnel.

As soon as the game ended, you rushed down the tunnel, wanting to see Lamine as fast as possible. Lamine and you haven't been together for such a long time, only 2 months. But over these months, you have become each other's safe place, with only being 16 years old in this crazy world.

You have been waiting for about 10 minutes now, greeting and comforting a few players you know as they passed you. Then, Lamine finally came into your view. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes brimmed with tears.

Your heart broke at this sight. Lamine tried to stay strong in front of you, but as soon as you opened your arms, he fell into them, holding you tight.

One of your hands went from his back to his head, stroking his hair. He buried his head deeper into your neck, letting out little sobs as you continued to hold him.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm here baby, I'm here."

The two of you continue standing there for a few minutes until you feel Lamine pull away. Opening your arms, you look up at him, kissing away a few tears that rolled down his cheeks.

"How about you get changed, then I'll drive you home, and we cuddle a bit on the couch." You whisper into his ear, kissing the side of his head.

"Y-yeah, I like that plan." His voice is still a bit croaky, but there's a slight smile on his face again, which was everything you wanted.

It was now 30 minutes later, and you were sitting in your car. You let Lamine take his time, knowing the time with his teammates is really important now.

To pass some time, you decided to open up Instagram, where you are instantly flooded with thousands of new videos of the game. One particular video caught your eye, though it was a video of Lamine sitting in a chair, his jacket completely covering his face to not see him cry. It broke your heart to see him like that.

You were lost in your own world when you heard the door opening. You looked at who it was only to see the familiar face of your boyfriend. He was wearing one of your favourite hoodies and a pair of comfy jeans.

"Hey, did I scare you?" Lamine asked you with a teasing tone in his voice.

"You could never." You answer.

Laughing, he gets into the car, holding his hand out for you to take.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding Lamine's, you drive to Lamine's apartment. The drive was silent, which was unusual as you usually talked the whole trip. But you don't wanna pressure him into talking, knowing he needs some time to open up.

Arriving at his apartment, Lamine immediately flops down onto the couch facefirst. Giggling, you lay yourself on top of him, burying his head in the crook of his neck.

"You wanna talk about tonight?"

Turning his head to face you, he shakes his head, "Not at the moment, I just wanna apologize for disappointing you tonight."

Frowning, you sit up, "Disappointing me? Why would you ever disappoint me?"

Lamine now sits up, too. "You were so excited about the game tonight and I wanted to play good for you tonight so you would be proud."

Gasping, you grab Lamine's face to make him look at you. "You, my love are going to listen closely to me now, understand me? There will be not a single moment in my life where I will not be proud of you. You are one of the most passionate and hard-working players I know. You have come so far in your career already while only being 16! Every time I look at you I feel so lucky to call you mine."

You ended your speech with a deep kiss on his lips, laying your forehead against his afterwards.

"Thank you, Amor, I love you"

"I love you too Lamine"

---------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome!! ❤️

[shion-yu]

Day 30: Contagion

We made it, folks! I really pushed myself to finish @sicktember and I’m so proud I did. For this last work I decided to just let go and do something different. TW for fictional contagion and some mess. Like, contagion is all it is. Which is not something I usually write, but I was inspired by @poetryandsniffles “Going Around” at 3am. It starts with unnamed characters and ends with you. Hope someone enjoys this. As you guys might know, snz isn't fully my thing but I know I have a lot of followers for whom it is, so this is for you. 1,933 words, TW fictional contagion.

It’s Saturday, and all the new freshmen students are moving into the dorms down the street. The bookseller is ready for them, knowing all the students are eager to exercise their first taste of freedom and want to window shop in their new college town. It's probably his busiest day of the year, which is why he absolutely cannot close the store despite the wretched cold he woke up with. He has a cough that won't let him finish a sentence without interrupting himself, and being surrounded by all the used books is making the sneezes that overtake him every minute even worse. He’s putting an old tome of Shakespeare away when he hears the bell ring, signaling a customer. He closes the book and accidentally inhales a noseful of dust. He tries to say, “Welcome,” but instead all he gets out is “Wehh - heee - ahh hatchoo!” 

“Bless you!” It's definitely a freshman, round glasses overtaking half her face and her little homemade clay earrings dangling on either side. 

“Tdangks,” the bookseller mumbles, snorting a huge noseful of congestion up into his face in an attempt to clear his voice. Apparently that's the wrong move, because it causes him to erupt into a harsh round of coughing that forces him to sit down behind his desk. 

The freshman doesn't seem to mind. She’s too interested in looking around the store, fascinated by the used books. The bookseller nurses his poor nose into the fiftieth tissue of the morning, blowing as hard as he can yet it doesn't seem to clear the congestion. He hasn't been this sick in ages. Why did it have to be today of all days?

“I’ll take this, please.”

The bookseller looks up to find the freshman standing in front of him, holding none other than the thick Shakespeare tome he just put away. The one that he knows he really should have wiped down before shelving. 

“Are you sure you want this one?” He asks hesitantly.

“Why?”

Explaining feels like too much work, and bad business. The bookseller shakes his head. “No reason,” he says, coughing into his elbow. “That’ll be $10.80.”

~.~.~.~

It’s well known that a cold isn't uncommon in the beginning of the semester, but the freshman can't believe it took less than a week for her to get hit with this plague. It’s only the end of the first day of classes when she feels a tickle in her throat that makes her cough. By evening she’s feeling the chill of an incoming fever, and by the next morning she feels like she’s been hit by a bus. This feels worse than just a cold, but it's literally the second day of classes in her first year of university. She can't afford to take a sick day so soon.

And so, the freshman drags herself to her English 101 lecture where she continues to cough and shiver, clutching the hoodie she's wearing around her ever tighter. Her bones ache and she feels like she desperately needs to be in bed, but this lecture is three hours long. Three torturous hours, and it's not a huge class. Everybody can hear her coughing away, she's sure of it. She's so embarrassed by her noisiness - the rustle as she plucks out tissue after tissue from the box she's helplessly taken to carrying around. The petite sniffle she's trying to hold back every few seconds, but if she doesn't her nose will be streaming. The stifled sneezes that more than often result in additional chesty coughs. By the end of the lecture she’s so cold and miserable that she's not sure she's going to make it to her next class, which is chemistry 100. 

Somehow she does, and before most of the other students too. She figures now is a good time to try and blow her nose as loudly as possible. Maybe if she can empty it out, she won't be so disruptive at this lecture. She blows into a tissue hard, and it makes her nose tickle. She can't hold it back, and she scrambles to grab another tissue - but it's too late. She ducks her head to the side and sneezes, uncovered, spraying the space next to her. Thankfully no one’s sat down yet. She hastily tries to clean the desk with the tissue, but she stupidly didn't bring any hand sanitizer and the desk is still gleaming with germs when a boy comes in and sits right next to her. 

He greets her and introduces himself as a football player who’s retaking the class. The freshman can't help but watch in horror as he puts his hands all over the desk, then proceeds to bite his nails. She can't just apologize, but she does so in her head, knowing he’s doomed. 

~.~.~.~

The football player is pretty pissed that he’s managed to catch something already. He doesn't have any time for a cold, especially not so early in the season. It doesn't matter that it’s cold for September, or that it's raining, or that he already had chills before practice started. He’s got to push through for the sake of the team, and also his reputation and scholarship. And he still has to finish that chemistry assignment. Who gives such a long homework in the first two weeks of classes? It should be illegal.

He’s drying off in the locker room, a now very wet cough echoing against the metal lockers. He changes into clean clothes, but he still feels sticky with sweat and rain water. He shivers and shleps off to his chemistry professor's office hours. He needs an extension.

The professor doesn't look happy to see him dripping and sniffling when he shows up at his door. “C’mon, professor, I just need a few days. It's the beginning of the season, I can't fall behind already, and I’m - koff koff koff - sick.”

“I can see that,” the professor says in mild disgust. “But I don't make exceptions. Not even for athletes,” she says before he can protest. 

“That's not fair,” the football player complains. “I really am s-siii-”

The professor tries to duck, but it's too late. The football player sneezes, only poorly half covering. “Sorry,” he says hoarsely.

“I think you'd better go home and lie down,” the professor says in a clipped tone. There's some spray on the corner of her glasses, much to both of their chagrin. “And skip practice tomorrow.”

“Yes ma'am,” the football player says. He’s too ashamed of himself now to keep begging. The professor sprays lysol all over her office and hopes it’ll be enough.

~.~.~.~

It’s not enough. By the end of the week the professor, too, is full of cold. She has to lecture through it, even though she barely has a voice and nearly spills chemical solutions on herself trying to contain her sneezes into her shoulder while holding glass beakers. The students keep blessing her, and that irritates her more than anything because it's their damn fault she’s sick. She's trying to make tenure though, and isn't about to call out, so she pushes through. Every sneeze hitches in the back of her throat as she tries to hold back, making a girlish noise that kills her inside a little. 

She’s already passed the cold along to her husband, your coworker, who has an immune system as good as a preschooler. She can't wait to get home where she can just relax. Her legs are cramping from standing for so long in heels, her makeup is running because of all the congestion, and she keeps making errors while lecturing that she never would otherwise. This cold is so embarrassing and comes with all the visible symptoms: cough, congestion, sneezing, fever. It's impossible to hide.

Her coworkers have even taken notice and mentioned she ought to take it easy, which the professor absolutely will not be doing. So what if she has to cough through her lectures? So what if the students in the front row may or may not be nursing colds of their own in a week? She has to work, that's just how it is. No exceptions, she tells her students. Not even for herself.

~.~.~.~

You can hear your coworker coughing from his cubicle opposite you. Yesterday he said his wife was sick, and today he seems to have brought her cold to share with everyone. How generous of him, you think dryly. You cringe as you hear him blow his nose again, a wet, harsh sound that is the audible equivalent of contagion. And now - oh no. Now he's coming to you.

“I've got the report done,” your coworker says as he approaches. His eyes are red rimmed and watery, nose raw red from blowing and his lips parted in an awkward fashion because he can't breathe properly. And now he's blowing germs all over your desk.

You take the report from him and hope to shoo him away quickly with a thank you, but no such luck. He bends over your desk and starts to explain part of the report that apparently, he finds is not self explanatory enough. You can hear the whistle of blocked sinuses and his voice crackles with congestion. “Does that make sense?” He asks, standing up and sniffling. He runs his temple, clearly also trying to work through a headache.

“Yes, perfect sense,” you tell your coworker. It doesn't matter if it made sense or not, you wish he'd just go away. “You don't look so good. Why don't you go home?” You ask.

“It's not so bad - snrrk!” He says before snorting loudly. “I can deal with it.”

“I see,” you say. And apparently everyone else has to deal with it, too. 

~.~.~.~

You hope you'll get lucky. That Emergen-C and hand sanitizer will save you - but it doesn't. Because a few days later you, too, wake up with an ache in your head and chest and a shiver that won't go away despite several fall layers of clothing. You have a cough that snaps and crackles against your sore throat and the sinus pressure behind your eyes throbs. You haven't even made it out of bed before you're overtaken by a round of three loud sneezes in succession. You’re definitely sick.

Unlike your coworker, you're not about to work through this cold. You feel too lousy, and the fever you're running is way too high to ignore. It's everywhere, this fever: deep in your bones, making everything ache from head to toe. You spend the day in bed, shivering and coughing away. The bed becomes a sea of used tissues, the small trashcan long since overflowing. The fever must be making you emotional, because you can't help but tear up a little when your partner finally comes home. 

“Aw, baby,” they say sympathetically. They press their cold hands against your hot cheeks and wet washcloths to cool you down. They climb into bed with you and cuddle you, your throbbing head and streaming nose in their lap, and don't complain about how you're getting snot all over their knee. “Poor love,” they say. “You’ll be better soon.”

You close your eyes and just listen to your partner’s soothing voice. In a few days, this will all be over, you tell yourself. Whatever this cold or flu from hell is, you’ll be back at it by next week. For right now though, you decide to just rely on your partner completely. Let them dote on you, take care of you, and hope you don’t get them - and didn't get too many others - sick, too.

[zo3mess]

Laundry girl

Summary: Laundromat is usually empty so late at night except for Adrian, until it isn’t. But there is no reason for him to get nervous around his new laundry buddy, right?

Warnings: mentions of violence, mention of death, mention of period blood, foul language and that’s all? If you notice something that might be triggering, just let me know. Also female reader and no use Y/N as far as I remember.

Word count: 3.8K

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: My ongoing brain rot with Vigilante, inspiration from the song Laundry Girl from Ludo (I politely stole a lot from their lyrics) and need to practice my English before test somehow escalated into this. This is a mess, nothing makes sense idk. Honestly, I have no idea why I decided to make it public, but hey, bad content is still content right? English is not my first language, so if you see any grammar mistakes or weird words, just ignore them. However every criticism is welcomed and appreciated.

Oh, the sweet contrast of late spring. Days warm enough to let bare skin be caressed by heating sun, yet cold nights leave shivers down the spine, a fleeting reminder that the carelessness of summer is not entirely there yet. Exactly on one of those nights, Adrian found himself in a 24-hour laundromat down the street from his small apartment. Neon lights from the sign were illuminating dark streets as well as the faint lights from inside. He didn’t like that smell that lingered in the air. Fragrances from detergents that are far too strong and mix in an unpleasant whiff, plus the disinfection and the smell from forgotten socks that got stuck somewhere between a wall and washing machine. No, thanks. He could buy his own washing machine, which would be much more practical, but why make anything easy when you can make it difficult.

When Adrian entered the familiar environment, he sighed at the strong smell hitting his nose. Temperature in the laundromat was slightly warmer than the one outside, but not enough for him to take off his hoodie. Adrian settled his bag with dirty clothes on a scraped metal table in the middle of the cramped room. There was one thing he liked about this laundromat, even though it was open almost nonstop, no one was ever there late at night like he was. Usually. Sometimes few drunks were sleeping peacefully in the corner, desperately seeking just a tad bit of warmth, but as long they didn’t do anything, Adrian had no reason to pay any attention to them. Tonight was different, his regular loneliness and peace was disturbed by another person entering the room. However screeching of old doors, quick gust of cold air and heavy tired footsteps did not alert him at all.

His mind was too focused on a single task before him, getting rid of dried blood that was plastered on his black undershirt. The one he wears under his chest plate, one that was stitched up too many times from all the slashing and tearing. Will he ever buy a new one? Of course not. Not until he finds a shirt that looks and feels the same as this one. Adrian cursed the guy that got his suit in such disheveled state. That bastard deserved a bullet to his head even before he managed to get Vigilante’s suit all messy and sticky with blood.

,,Do you need help with that?” you ask with a soft voice, a smile on your face while you look at the stranger in front of you expectantly ,,I don’t want to call myself a professional, but I can pretty much clean every stain. Or at least I haven’t been defeated so far,’’

Your question caught him off guard, his hands wincing a little. Green eyes glancing up at you with startled expression. When did you get here? Were you watching him the whole time? Crouched up above his shirt, scrubbing away with bile soap, tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration. You leaned across the table, examining his work. ,,Ketchup?’’

,,Blood actually,’’ Why would it be ketchup? He doesn’t even like ketchup. It does not taste like tomatoes at all! Goddamn lying sauce. ,,I got a really bad nosebleed. I get that a lot, that’s why my clothes are always bloody.’’ No other reason of course.

,,If your clothes are always bloody you should have no problem with cleaning them right? But I gotta admit blood is a hell of an enemy when it dries and sits on the fabric for a while. Just put it in cold water to soak off, that should do it.’’

,,Why do you know so much about cleaning blood?’’ Adrian asks with suspicion in his voice. Eyebrows furrow under his glasses and his eyes stare at you intently. Paranoia creeping up on him again.

,,Well I don’t know if you noticed but I’m a woman. Periods teach you a lot. I’m not some blood-stained killer I swear.’’ You say the last sentence with a wide smile, shaking your head before returning to your own work. Throwing dirty laundry into the washing machine without even glancing back at Adrian. He was standing there with fingers tapping on the metal table, burning a hole in the back of your skull with his stare. Yeah, you better not be. He thinks to himself.

He forced a smile and went back to scrubbing, he did not have the time to soak it off, he needed it ready for tomorrow, preferably without blood. You paid him no mind and pushed the button to start the cycle. With a sigh you took out a small book from the laundry basket you brought with you and sat down on a screeching chair nestled between other washing machines. If you have to sit it out here you might as well do something productive.

,,Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” his voice made you flinch and you glanced at him absentmindedly ,,I love that movie!”

,,Book’s even better.” You acknowledged his giddiness with simple words. The truth is you enjoyed reading books after you watched movies that were based on them. Sometimes they were better, sometimes worse, but they always expanded the story and the universe.

,,Reading is for nerds plus it can’t be that much better.” Doubting Thomas, of course. Adrian quickly waved off the idea that books can be better than movies.

,,There is extremely many things that did not make it in the movie, not gonna mention directive changes. But go on, live your life without all the great details.” You returned to your reading, barely registering quiet mumbling coming from Adrian’s direction.

,,What are you doing here anyway? I come here almost every Saturday and I am alone here.” He won’t drop it, curiosity gets the better of him most of the time, why would this be any different? It is suspicious that another girl is washing her laundry in the middle of the night. The fact he is currently getting rid of blood from the undershirt he wears out to kill criminals is an entirely different story.

,,My washing machine broke and I don’t have spare money to buy a new one. I’ll be coming here until my next salary.” The other option is attempting to fix it yourself, that would be a death sentence for the washing machine and you too.

,,But why so late? It’s way past midnight.”

,,Couldn’t sleep.” You just shrugged. You did not care if he believed you or not, it was true. Your new neighbors were blasting music practically all evening, it was better to wait it out elsewhere. ,,It seems we will be meeting each other more often. I didn’t catch your name.”

,,It’s Adrian.” His voice was hesitant, suspicion rising and falling with each word you said. He’s not sure if you are a poor soul with dirty laundry or a spy hired to watch the infamous Vigilante. How would you even know his secret identity? He had no idea, but sometimes it is better to account for all possibilities. You nodded at his answer and told him your name in return. Little something he burned into the back of his mind.

The more time you spent together in the chilly room, words drowned out by buzzing washing machines, the more you got along. Starting off with awkward small talk, through petty debate whenever books are better than movies, all the way to wishing each other goodnight as well as Adrian wishing you had a monster under your bed and parting ways. Only if he knew monster wasn’t the one creeping up on you in your sleep. Thoughts of tonight busying your mind.  

------------

The second time he met you was two weeks from the last encounter, just the way he mentioned previously. This time you were there first, already occupying one machine with white clothes while the other part of your laundry sat in a basket nearby. You quickly shot him a smile and he greeted you in return.

,,You’re here early.’’ Adrian commented almost under his breath as he put full duffel bag on the table and began sorting his clothes by colors.

,,Yeah well, no reason for it really. Maybe curiosity got the best of me and I got here earlier just to see if you would came like you said you would.’’ It seems that old habits die hard. Unknown to you, Adrian was always on time in his routines. Even if he wanted to do his laundry on a different day or at a different time, his body would urge him to do things in the exact same way.

The conversation went on quite smoothly, like good old friends meeting. Usual chatter about their days, unnecessary details of “total baller” breakfast from Adrian’s side, gossip about migraine-inducing coworkers from yours. Adrian attention was glued to every word you said, piece by piece putting together a bigger picture. He can’t even remember the last time someone actually wanted to talk with him and not just wave him off with dismissive answers.

,,- And then she put a fucking poster on our shared fridge. That stupid one with cat on a tree with “Hang in there” under it. And I thought our office could not get any more stereotypical,” you were throwing your hands around, visibly stating your annoyance at your coworker Debbie. ,,I don’t want to “Hang in there” I would much rather hang myself and I swear to God I will hang her in janitor’s closet if she puts another poster on the fridge or tells me a cheesy joke about how much she hates her husband, it’s not funny.”

She’s joking, Adrian, don’t sweat it out. There is no way she could kill anyone. His inner thoughts creep up to him again. From time to time, he would appreciate if his Vigilante mind left Adrian alone. ,,So uhhh… You don’t like cheesy jokes?” Yeah, great save, do not mention hanging Debbie.

,,I like jokes, just not stupid ones. To be honest I can’t remember the last time someone told me a funny joke. I guess it is a curse of modern times, humor changed.” You shrugged your shoulders and walk around the crumpled room, looking around and taking in details you missed on your first visit.

,,I could tell you a funny joke. I know plenty of them!” Adrian’s enthusiasm made you stop in your tracks. He’s just standing there, a wide smile forming on his face, fingers fidgeting with hem of dirty shirt that laid in mountain of laundry on the table in front of him.

Even if you told him no, Adrian has decided to recite every joke he knew. Some of them were horrible, some of them were… better. Yet it did not made you laugh. It was a fun game to pass the time, he told you lousy jokes and after each one he patiently waited for your reaction with puppy eyes. You, on the other hand, had tried so hard to not even let a corner of your mouth turn upwards. The bigger satisfaction it brought the more he stammered as he tried to remember another joke. Adrian could not let himself be a loser in this situation. He will not give up.

Not laughing at his jokes should be illegal. And that would make you a criminal. In that case, he would not feel bad if he had to take you out as Vigilante. And maybe if he got rid of you, he wouldn’t feel that irritating need late at night, body itching to go to the laundromat near his apartment to see if you couldn’t sleep either. If you’re scrubbing spilled wine from your shirt with cheap detergent before throwing it in a washing machine with the rest of your clothes. If you’re waiting patiently not only for your clothes to dry but also for that funny stranger with curly hair and a dorky smile to show up. Maybe then his mind would calm down again. He doesn’t need any more distractions in his head.

,,Knock knock,’’ he starts again, determined to win this imaginary joke war.

,,Come in,’’ you retort while chuckle is threatening to slip from your lips. Adrian’s arms slouch down his body, enthusiasm transforming into… Annoyance? He so desperately wants to see you smile, why can’t you comply? People usually laugh at his jokes, or more like they laugh at him. No matter the reason, people occasionally laugh in his presence alongside constant eye rolls. You haven’t done either and it is messing with him.

,,Knock knock,’’ a firmer repetition. He’s not going to get discouraged.

Determination is admirable in certain situations, in others it just leads to doom.  Like that one time when Adrian was chasing a thief down the street, low on bullets, ringing in his ears, lungs burning, but he could not forgive himself if that rat got away. All his attention was set on the dark figure way ahead of him that he did not notice a car when he sprinted across a badly lit street, ultimately knocking him down. Heavens were on his side that night, nothing serious happened except for a few nasty bruises and unrelenting remorse that haunted him following weeks. But the good kind of determination? That’s gonna win him a smile from a pretty girl in the laundromat.

,,Who’s there?’’ this time you decided to go along with his joke. These types of jokes are… foul, but you just want to see where he will land with it.

,,Honey bee,’’

,,Honey bee who?’’

,,Honey bee a dear and get that for me please?’’ Adrian says it with a wide smile and excitement in his voice. He points at your laundry beads that boost the scent. ,,It smells so good when you open it, can I try it?’’

You laugh just a bit. Fucking finally. Now Adrian felt like at the top of the world. He made you laugh, no matter if it was just a pitying laugh to get him to shut up, he decided to believe you actually found him funny and no one could take that from him. You noticed the dreamy look that plastered his face, especially when you let him borrow scented beads. Part of you cherished the fact he liked the ones you washed your clothes with every time and part of Adrian cherished the fact that now his clothes will smell like you before it wears out. That his sleeping shirt will carry part of you on those nights that he doesn’t see you here.

Wait, when did that happen? Smell of another person on his clothes should weird him out, it should give him goosebumps all over his pale skin. Why does it sound so comforting this time? Why does he want to keep part of you close? The last time he felt something similar was when his brother Gut died. They weren’t super close, but his death hit him like a train and he quite literally became a trainwreck. Adrian sat in his brother’s childhood room for hours, taking notes of all the small details, remembering the exact position of each and every piece of furniture. And at times when he felt close to breaking into tears, he took out his brother’s shirts. The familiarity and memories brought comfort. Comfort that disappeared as fast as it came.

This time he was not mourning death of someone close to him, this time he did not miss the feeling of adrenaline that he felt with Peacemaker when they shot appliances in forest or when they killed criminals together before he got locked up. This time Adrian felt a need to be close to someone he met just a few weeks ago, someone who barely knew him and had not gotten the chance to be taken back by his weirdness.

These thoughts and confusion followed him home that night. Not even the cold air could not break him out of trance. The way you laughed, the way you softly wished him goodnight when you parted ways, skin illuminated by purple neon light hanging above laundromat, and the way his now clean laundry smells like you since he begged for your scented beads. Pull yourself together Adrian.

------------------

,,I don’t understand how you might think Fargo is better than the Office or Better Call Saul for example. Saying it is the best show ever made is crazy.” Friendly banter about TV series was accompanied by clicking of your flip-flops as you made your way towards your apartment complex just a couple blocks away from the laundromat. Adrian had insisted that he walks you home this time, apparently he was afraid you might “fall asleep on your way home” since you two spent almost the whole night in the laundromat.

Not just doing laundry, you also brought your book, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and read out loud for him to hear the difference between book and movie. While you waited for your clothes to dry you two sat on uncomfortable chairs, you with book wide open, pages visible for Adrian to peek from behind your shoulder whenever he wanted. Though most of the time he spent with his eyes closed, face leaning on a stock of washing machines next to him, listening to your reading like a bedtime story. Even after your laundry was done you decided to stick around, competing who flicks quarters farthest, catching peanuts in your mouth and testing echo in every washing machine. Until you finally decided to head home and get at least few hours of sleep, by that time it was past 5 a.m.

Sun was lazily rising, yellow painted the sky but few dark clouds were spoiling the otherwise beautiful picture. The smell of rain was in the air, you both knew there was a storm coming on a calm Sunday morning. Few joggers passed you in a hurry. Early birds. Psychopaths. Not like Adrian wasn’t psychotic at least a bit, but he wasn’t that mad to get up so early to run in still-cold weather.

,,What do you think is the best show then?” he calmly asked and nudged your shoulder with his own, encouraging you to answer.

,,Well… I think the best show is The Kids in the Hall, undying classic.” You knew your walk slowly but surely reached its end. You could see your main entrance, the fact you were reaching your home was setting you aflame in the worst way possible. Nonetheless, your eyelids grew heavy and you could not stop yourself from yawning every few seconds, an unavoidable need to fall into your bed and surrender to sweet slumber.

,,That show is like 100 years old! Dinosaurs watched it!” Adrian shook his head with laughter. You didn’t find his jokes funny but you loved this out of all the shows. Unbelievable.

,,Hey! If you call that show old, it is like you’re calling yourself old! Should I call nursing to pick you up?” You stopped in front of your apartment complex, not entirely sure Adrian realizes this is where your hangout ends. You spin around to face him and quickly jab him in the chest with your finger.

,,Ha ha, very funny. But really? So many good shows and you pick this one? And call me out for liking Fargo? You have horrible taste.” He couldn’t let this go now he saw how adorable you looked when you were angry. What is the worst that can happen if he teases you more, right?

,,Shut it, Adrian. I’m serious.” You said that so calmly it almost took him aback, however he could see the fire burning behind your eyes. It only riled him up more.

,,You can’t make me-“ You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him down swiftly. The best solution to shut him up was to press your lips against his. A firm, simple kiss that sent electricity through your body. You felt a muffled yelp that escaped Adrian’s mouth when you surprised him in such an affectionate manner. And at that moment, when your lips touched his, for the first time in a while his mind was quiet, yet his soul was singing. Time stopped, eyes were tightly shut, heart hammering inside, begging to jump out of his chest, one of his hands found its place on your forearm in uncertainty and took a step closer to get his body closer to you.

You, on the other hand, were fully aware of what was happening. The feeling of gratification that you “won” an argument was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you could think of was acting up on your secret wishes that swam through your head every time you went to the laundromat to see him.  Suddenly aware of everything, you felt the heat that radiated from Adrian’s body, warming you up in cold air, a few raindrops making you shiver as they fell on your skin. Or were you shivering from the closeness of this intimate act? If anyone asked you would not be able to answer. It did not matter anyway, the only thing that mattered was you kissing him.

The kiss lasted only for a few seconds, but you would both swear it was an eternity. When you pulled away, slowly and delicately, Adrian still had eyes closed, hand hanging in the air where your arm used to be. You realized his mind was completely shut off. A smile formed on your lips at the thought of shutting Adrian up this way every time he brings up some stupid nonsensical squabble. You left him standing there as rain started to fall on his hair, diamonds in those dark brown curls. And when he finally came to his senses and decided to open his eyes… You were gone. Coldness on his body where you were pressed together, sparks lingering on lips, sweet perfume filling his nose, those should be indicators that it was very much real, but his mind was not certain. How could it be, when the stupid brain ceased the second his dreams came true.

You quickly ran upstairs to your apartment, running up to the window in your kitchen and from behind a curtain you watched confused Adrian, who was walking in the opposite direction. What other choice did you leave him than to head home and wonder. Wonder about what you were doing when raindrops splattered on the sidewalk, sounding like your flip-flops. Wonder if you’re already sleeping safe and sound in your bedroom like he will when he reaches his home. Wonder if you kiss him again once you see each other next week in the laundromat. Wonder if the laundry girl was real or just a dream.

[lemoncrushh]

Sweat

Summary: Some post-workout sex

Warnings: Smut obviously. 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1020

A/N: This was a little blurb written in 2017 inspired by some white leggings Harry had been seen wearing. Really it was just an excuse to write some smut. Written in first person, but no name given.

Harry had gone for a run. I wasn't much of a runner myself, so on days that he decided to do that, I opted for a walk on the treadmill that we kept in our sunroom. I was content with the sounds 80s and 90s heavy metal pumping through the bluetooth speakers and my water bottle in its holder as I looked out into our backyard.

Halfway through an Iron Maiden song, I thought I heard the sound of the front door slamming shut and the beep of the alarm, followed by footsteps into the kitchen as Harry's trainers squeaked across the tile.

"Is that you, baby?" I called out, mostly as acknowledgement since I knew the answer.

"Yeah!" he replied, his voice exhausted from exertion.

"I'll be done in a few," I said as I began to slow my pace.

I continued to walk through one more song before coming to a stop and stepping off the treadmill. My heart rate was still up, my face and chest glistening with sweat as I reached for my water and drank the rest in one large gulp. Then reaching for my towel, I turned off the music and headed toward the doorway that led to the den. I stopped in my tracks when I saw him.

He was sat on the large leather sofa, his head back, his arms and legs open in a spread eagle. He had stripped himself of his clothing - hoodie, t-shirt, shorts, shoes and socks, even his beanie - all except a pair of tight white leggings that he'd worn underneath his shorts. His naked yet wet chest rose and fell with each heavy breath that puffed out between his lips, and his eyes were closed.

"Holy shit," I muttered, now weak in the knees, and not from my workout.

Suddenly his eyelids fluttered open, and he saw me gawking at him.

"Hi." I wasn't sure exactly how, but he managed to make one tiny word sound so sexy, and so smug at the same time.

"That must've been some run," I remarked, my heartbeat racing again.

"Yeah."

I stepped closer to him, patting my chest with my towel.

"Do you wanna shower first, or..." I started to ask, my speech faltering when I finally got a good look at what was before me.

His leggings were drenched, nearly transparent. The muscles in his thighs fought for release from the confines of the stretchy fabric. But it was what was in between that had my mouth watering. I could see everything. The outline of his erection was obvious, and it threatened to pop out of the waistband that sat low on his hips. The line of hair beneath his belly button was wet with sweat as it trailed seductively down to meet his thick thatch, also moist with perspiration that dampened the crotch of his leggings.

Catching me staring at him, Harry held out his hand to me.

"C'mere, love," he breathed, his voice still broken and raspy.

I lifted my eyes to his, an easy smirk rising from the corner of his mouth. I accepted his hand, taking two steps closer so that I was standing between his legs. Harry sat up, releasing my hand to graze his up the back of my thigh, his other hand mimicking the first until both crept up my jogging shorts and slid back down.

"I like these," he murmured as he repeated the action with both hands.

I blinked slowly, a hard breath releasing from my lungs. I watched his face for a moment more until returning my gaze to his leggings. I didn't reckon Harry would wear pants underneath something so confining, but Jesus Christ, did they have to be white?

"You want it?" Harry suddenly asked.

My eyes wide, I stared at him incredulously. "Sorry?"

Taking my hand once more, he guided it to his crotch.

"This," he said. "You want it?"

A sound rose from my throat then, and I'm not sure if it was a moan or a protest or sound of confusion. But luckily Harry copied it, grabbing me by the waist. He pulled my shorts down so quickly I didn't have time to think. Stepping out of them, I watched as he dipped his hands in his leggings and released himself. This time I knew I moaned, as I straddled him, my knees hitting the cool leather of the couch.

Our tongues met with a vengeance, the hunger overtaking any need to fully de-clothe ourselves.

"'m so fucking hard, baby," he groaned against my mouth.

I merely nodded as I sat up, allowing him to aim his cock at my entrance. I needed no extra lubrication. I usually worked up a good one of my own when I exercised, but regardless, I was so turned on by his insatiable desire.

I rode him slowly at first, but only for a bit. He wasn't having it.

"Fuck me," he demanded, grasping at my waist like his life depended on it, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

I nodded, biting my lip as I rode him faster. His eyelids got heavy as his mouth twitched. Finally, he threw his head back, moaning my name as I felt him hit me deeper. My own breaths quickened, my hands gripping the back of the sofa. Harry's hips lifted up to meet mine as we both cried out.

I tried to catch my breath as I rested my head on his shoulder, taking in his scent. I felt him rake his fingers up my back, and back down again, soothing me in his gentle way.

"I love you," I whispered, words we'd exchanged many times already, but for some reason I wasn't sure if it was too sweet, too real to follow such an animalistic situation.

"I love you, too," he echoed before kissing me in the soft spot below my ear.

I sat up, studying his face. He raised a brow.

"You're incredibly sexy," he declared. "And amazing."

I smiled at him, my hands grazing his chest, my fingers tracing his tattoos.

"Now, about that shower..." he smirked.

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[veronicamendes]

On Fishnet Friday, I post a photo that was inspired by a social media friend Natasha Crystal. She posted a pic on Superbowl Sunday of her wearing a hoodie over fishnets and classic stilettos and I just had to copy the look for myself. Nat has long been one of my idols for her beauty, confidence, poise and her amazing legs.

Here is the link to her picture that inspired my offering today. https://x.com/TheNatCrys/status/1757171235971080195?s=20