#its the first time i've really had to think about some of this for JEan

[superfallingstars]

Jily circa 1977, for @moonstainn's marauders era 70s outfit challenge! I had sooo much fun with this - I think this is the first time that James has made an appearance on this account, and I actually based his shirt and jacket on a photo of my dad in the 70s, which was super fun. Love a contrast stitching moment!

The other reason this was so fun is that I'm like one of those annoying historical fashion people but only for like, the 70s thru 90s, lol. I think late 70s fashion can sometimes get lost in the shuffle between the groovy early 70s and the neon 80s, so I really wanted to showcase it here, since that's the era in which James and Lily come of age. From what I've seen, late 70s fashion is less bell bottoms and fringe, and more cuffed jeans, knee-high boots, and furry jackets with big shoulders (perhaps a precursor to the shoulder pads of the 80s...?).

I can't resist rambling on about this, but I'll do everyone a favor and put it (as well as all of my references/inspo!) under the cut:

These are street style pics from 1977 London, taken by Derek Ridgers, and they're such a big influence on how I imagine Lily. You can see that the styles are starting to shift from the hippie fashion of the late 60s/early 70s – at this point there were a lot of these huge fuzzy jackets, cowl neck sweaters, layered zip-ups, and knee-high boots under midi skirts.

A few photos of some women whose fashion specifically inspired me for this drawing. The top row is all Kate Bush – there are a ton of photos of her from around this time and she looks quite similar to how I imagine Lily – and she rocks those tall boots (+ midi skirt combo). The bottom row is Isabelle Huppert (who I have considered as a time-accurate Lily fancast lol, although I'm uncertain of the exact dates of these photos). Her jacket in the first pic definitely inspired me for Lily, and I don't think I've ever seen someone look so cool in a scarf before...!

The other big trend I noticed (from looking through a million pictures of bands I like from this time) is the proliferation of cuffed jeans! What was up with these giant cuffs? Once I started looking for them, I noticed them everywhere. Tbh they're a nice way to add a fun little extra detail to a character's outfit. And I must mention that in the second photo (featuring the Buzzcocks), the guy on the right (John Maher) is pretty much EXACTLY how I imagine James to look. There's like no other pictures of him in those glasses tho! So unfortunate.

Anyway! I adore 70s fashion, and even though there are definitely similarities throughout the whole decade, late 70s fashion has its own unique trends that I hoped to bring some attention to here. Especially because it's basically the golden age for Marauders fans lol. Of course this is not comprehensive (far from it!), but I wanted to share my thoughts, and I hope it was at least a little informative or inspiring. Thanks if you made it this far through my rambles :-)

[poppy-metal]

I've had this thought in my head for awhile of down on his luck patrick - maybe he's in a dry spell in his tennis career, and hes really way too fucking stubborn to crawl back to his family. he'd rather be homeless - coming in too contact with recently divorced!reader.

you have way too much money. you probably have a steady job as a ceo or a doctor - something big and important. but your marriage was nasty. your husband resented you for having more money than him, claimed it emasculated him - threw it in your face that you were getting into your forties now and couldn't even give him babies. he tore down your self worth, made you feel like less of a woman - made you think you weren't worth loving. you've been separated for some time now - and you're so lonely. you're horrible at dating - you always screw it up worrying about what their expectations of you will be. if you're feminine enough for them - if you're desirable - you come home to an empty spacious apartment and watch your TV shows and think you hate your life.

meeting patrick because he fell asleep on the bench outside your complex. you almost walked right by him but something - something about him called to you. maybe it was the fact that he looked so young - in his twenties clearly. freckle spotted and pink cheeked in the cool night air. curled up on the bench like a baby, using his hoodie as a pillow. your heart strings tug. you'd like to think this first step comes from the good of your heart and not some need to be needed - not some need to fill the void inside you - but you wake him up. and if you notice how pretty his eyes are you fold that into a little square in your pocket and ignore it. you tell him, "you look like you need some tea."

and patrick needs alot of things. he needs a fucking cigarette. he needs to be able to afford a fucking meal. he needs to get into a tournament and get back into the groove of things before he burns out and does something insane like kill himself because he hates his fucking life. but tea works. he's not one to turn down free shit. especially from pretty older women.

and he probably thinks this is a transaction - he probably isn't thinking of you lustfully at all at first - your little granny aesthetic and walls covered in pictures of woodland creatures dressed in 1800s garb weird him out, if hes being honest - but he moves to pull his shirt off anyway - because he knows what a free place to stay for a night means - and pussy is pussy at the end of the day. he just wont look at your walls when he's inside you.

and when you stop him its not because you dont want him - unlike patrick you think hes nearly ethereal. there's something mousy about him - but masculine too. his hair is wild and he has too big ears and a pointed nose. but his eyes are this gorgeous moss green - his lips pink and plush - his body filled out - you can see the defined lines of his stomach when he tugs his shirt up, the v that dips down into his jeans and then disappeares, the smattering of dark hair that peeks out - a man. you're not unaffected, is the thing. but you stop him because that's not what you invited him up for, really.

"you dont want....?" he trails off. looks at you like you're a strange insect under a microscope and he's wondering what the hell is up with you. like he wants to poke you with a stick. ask, 'you could obviously use some, lady, so what gives?'

"i just want you to.... talk with me. over tea, if that's alright. you can sleep here after if you'd like. i dont mind."

he thinks he gets it then. nodding his head slowly. he can talk. he'll talk your fucking ear off. he thinks you're probably lonely as fuck and yeah, its pathetic, but hell. pot meet kettle. misery loves a hot younger guy to ogle. isn't that how the saying goes? either way, you're both clearly lost in life at the moment. your apartment is too empty. he could use your hospitality.

its kinda a match made in heaven. an unlikely bond. love and sex isn't the plan - but then, does life ever go according to plan? can a lonely woman with a kind heart and a man who's made a shit mess of his life but wants to do better stay just friends? mean nothing to eachother?

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Beeman x afab!reader

Part Nine

In Which Lyith Gives Us a Biology Lesson

Ignore the silly picture iykyk

When Lyith came back from his work, the first thing he did was give you "the look". You weren't surprised. You were sure he had heard the news of your decision as soon as it could be delivered to him.

He didn't ask you any questions, like Rena did. But he did take you up in his arms, gave giving Rena a short nod. He flew you outside of the hive, all the way back to your house. Your soon to be "old" home.

You got to cooking up some ramen for yourself, and an old bag of hard candy for Lyith when he finally spoke.

"There is going to be a ceremony. It will be a lot different from how you bonded with Rena and I."

There was a silence.

"Are you mad?"

Lyiths posture remained still. You put down your chopsticks and walked over to him, hands reaching up to massage his shoulders. His skin didn't give in the same way human skin did but you could still make out the muscle underneath. It did seem to relax him a bit as his shoulders traveled downward.

"I just... feel like you were pushed into it. I know Haven. He can be very pushy." He still didn't look at you.

You smiled, and put a hand up to Lyitha chin pulling it down so you could kiss him. His stiff posture relaxed slowly into you, his hand reaching up to your cheek. After a moment he pulled away, his breath puffing against your lips.

"I've thought about it. Its still really new to me, but I want to take care of everyone in the best way that I can. And while Haven IS persuasive..." you pecked his lips again, staring into those lovely big eyes. "I can handle it. And its not like ill have to give you and Rena up, right?"

Lyith wrinkled his nose.

"Itll be different. We won't see you as much. And you'll be pregnant so everyone is going to be all over you all the time. Your first clutch is going to drive everyone crazy. Your going to have to be really firm with your boundaries."

"I refuse to let this affect our relationship. Speaking of.... When I talked to Haven, he told me you were a kvasir. And a high class drone on top of everything."

Your mind kept going back to all the intimate moments you had spent with Lyith.

"I only work as a kvasir when Haven wants a day off. He is way better at it then I am. As for the drone bit..." His eyes got a little heated. "You've known that I've been a drone since the day we met. What about it?"

You fidget a bit under Lyiths searching gaze.

"Well... I've been thinking. And I want the first time i... experience the whole egg thing to be with you. I want you to be my first."

He blinked at you before his lips tugged up, pure joy radiating through the bond, and shining from his face.

"I would be honored, my love."

He reached his lips to yours again, soft at first. His body captured yours, arms grasping around you in a tender embrace. Then the kiss started to smolder, Lyiths lips growing more demanding. You gave into him happily, opening yourself up to his tongue as it teased the inside of your mouth.

You laughed.

Your body coursed electric as his hands started to travel up and down your body, tracing the curves and dips of your torso, then down to your lower stomach. He stopped and twirled his finger in circles just above the top of your pants. A smirk was starting to form on his lips as he pulled away.

"You can't leave me alone for even a second, huh?"

He harrumphed, but it came out as more a chirp, as his body began to purr.

"Its only natural."

He pulled at your jeans, pulling them down to your knees. He stayed there, looking back up at you with hungry eyes. The old kitchen table bit into the skin of your backside, as your core pooled into liquid fire.

You swallowed. Lyiths smile was full of mischief. His hand crept slowly from your thigh upwards.

"You know... maybe I should give you a lesson. On the reasons why drones need to sexually please their Queens so often..."

His fingers traced over your clothed mound and up towards the waist of your underwear. Your breathes were coming out labored.

"Y-yeah? There's a.... a reason?" You gulped. He was slowly pulling down your underwear, the cool air hitting your bare skin. He pulled them down to your ankles and rose. He grabbed your waist and lifted you onto the table. With one hand he pushed you back so you were laying down, core on full display before him.

This seemed to please Lyith as an expression of satisfaction settled on his features. He reached and pulled your lips apart. A finger traced the outside of your lips, but didn't venture any further inside.

"When a young Queen is freshly bonded, her mental state and her mana can be very... sensitive."  He began to trace the inside of your lips, making you squirm.

Fuck. You swear you could cum just from Lyiths husky voice. The way it had you dripping should be illegal. 

"A Queens pleasure stabilizes their mood and mana. Meaning their bonds to their mates aren't stressed. And when they... orgasm..."  His fingers started to rub at your clit, making you intake a sharp breath, thighs tightening.

Every syllable was charged and fluid, as his words melted together and into you, like a caress.

"...the queen produces a special form of magic. It floods through the hives mana. Its like water. A vital nutrient."

His fingers were swirling up and down and around your clit, hypnotizing motions. Lyith leaned in closer to your heat. You could feel his breath on you as he spoke.

"And Drones, we are sensative to it. We are so thirsty for it. For your pleasure. To feel wave after wave of it from you." He inunciated slowly, eyes like fire.

"Until all you can do is cum and cum and cum."

With this he attacked your core, licking and sucking with so much enthusiasm you were already right on the brink. When he started to suckle on your clit, you crashed over, a tsunami of ecstasy crashing over every millimeter of your body.

When you came down, chest heaving Lyith was full of mirth and lust.

"Do you really love my lesson that much? You came so quickly. Perhaps my Queen needs me to educate her like this more often?"

You couldn't answer, just crane your head up to look at him as you gasped for air.

After a moment he started to stroke you again, this time using his other fingers to take leisurely pumps inside your already wet heat.

"The ceremony will be different. Their will be the banquet with the rest of the hive. Then their will be the swarming. When each drone will have a chance to fill you will eggs."

He started to pump faster now, each ragged drag of his fingers against your walls sending heat and electricity through you, making you mewl. His innocent round face was positively sinful as he stared at you with such intensity. His hips were bucking into the side of the table as he went on.

"A Queen must take as many eggs as possible. Not all of them will be properly fertilized and... mmm. Some will eventually....ahhh. Will liqify and turn into a magical... goo that will be absorbed into the egg for food. And into your womb..."

His breaths were coming out ragged now. As he upped the pace of the fingers inside of you, he upped his own rutting against the table. His change of expression as he absolutely lost himself only added to the pressure and heat in your core.

"Mmm.... you'll have to be... so full for us..." the thought seemed to do something to him, because he groaned out, reaching his peak. Seeing him come undone brought you over the edge with a sharp cry.

The kitchen was filled with ragged breathing as the two of you came down from your high. You laughed, giving Lyith a smile that he returned.

When you had got off the table and buttoned up your jeans, Lyith had gone over to try to work the microwave on your cold ramen. You reached over and embraced his back, watching as he tried to fiddle with the buttons.

"Hey Lyith?" You whispered into his back.

"Hmm?"

"I'll always make time for you." You gave him a big squeeze.

The two of you spent the rest of the night in your old room, cuddling before passing out for the night. You promised yourself this wouldn't be the last time you spent alone with him.

This is really bad and unedited but!!! Lyith got to live out a little of his school teacher fantasy! Hope you enioyed!

[inthe-dark-tonight]

Falling into My Sins

chapter one: back in the alleyway

dbf!joel x fem!reader series- loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6

summary: it’s your first night out since moving back with your dad after graduating college. while at the bar you meet an attractive mystery man and end up hitting it off. things get heated when you convince him to dance with you.

word count: 2.7k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: no outbreak AU, age gap (reader is in their 20s, Joel is in his 40s) alcohol consumption, light swearing, slight dubious consent (things get heated while drunk), pet names (sweetheart, babe, etc.), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader.

notes: this is my first time really writing anything so i’m very nervous to post this , i've also been working on one other fic but i decided to post this first. thank you for taking the time to read and any feed back is welcome & appreciated xo <3

also thank you so much to @shatteredbaby for proof reading ily so much bby, and @pr0ximamidnight for also proof reading, letting me ramble like a maniac and helping me with ideas ilysm. i appreciate you both so so so much <3

It’s your first weekend going out since you’ve moved back home with your dad. You’ve just graduated from the Art institute of Chicago in the spring, but your lease wasn’t up on your apartment until August so you stayed near campus until then. Now that you’re back, some of your old friends from high school offered to take you out as a sort of welcome home. You’re just finishing getting ready when you get a text from your friend Aya.

We’re here!! Hurry up Dee is getting impatient!

You roll your eyes and smile. Typical. You’re a bit nervous since you haven’t seen them in about a year, but you’re sure once you’re out it will feel like you weren’t even gone. You throw on a jacket and run down the stairs, grabbing your keys as you go.

“I’m leaving!” You call out.

“Have fun bud!” Your dad shouts from the other room.

Your parents had recently divorced while you were away, so it’s just you and your dad now. You feel kinda bad leaving him alone when you just got back, but you’ll make up for it.

You close the front door behind you and run down your front porch towards Aya’s car. As you get closer, the passenger window rolls down.

“Ahhhhh you’re back!!!” Your friend, Dee, yells. You laugh at her reaction and open the back door to the car.

“Hey!” You slide in and buckle your seat belt.

Aya turns around with one hand still on the wheel. “Long time no see! Tonight’s gonna be fun,” she says with a smile.

“We’re taking shots as soon as we get there,” Dee says with a sly smile and you laugh, leaning back fully into the seat as Aya drives, heading for downtown.

As soon as the three of you find a bar, Dee keeps her promise and orders you all shots and they send you to find a booth while they wait for the order. There aren’t many people in the bar yet since it’s only nine, but it’s slowly filling up. You look around the place, taking in the large bar that runs across one wall with stools gathered around it and across from it is the booth seating you’ve sat in. There are a few high top tables scattered around the perimeter of the bar, a pool table to the right of the door next to the large dance floor in the center that’s currently empty, and the sounds of eighties and nineties rock hits filling the large room.

As you’re looking around, the door to the bar opens and two men walk in. The first man has long dark curly hair, a patchy beard, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a tan jacket and brown boots. The other man has shorter dark hair, a similarly patchy beard streaked with gray, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a green flannel and brown boots. He’s quite handsome, you think – broader than the first man, his frame stretching the fabric of the flannel to its limit. Your eyes flick back up to his face, taking in the curve of his nose, the crease between his brows and dark brown eyes. When your eyes meet, he’s looking right at you and you immediately glance away, embarrassed that he caught you checking him out. When you dare to look at him again, his gaze is still locked on you.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Dee says as the girls approach the table with a round of shots and a drink for each of you.

Your eyes snap away from the man’s and you smile at them, grabbing a shot glass.

“To celebrate your return home,” Dee says, raising her glass for you to toast against.

You tilt your head back letting the cold liquid slide down. You close your eyes and wince as the sour flavor with the aftertaste of vodka that burns your throat. When you open your eyes again you’re met with the stranger’s warm brown eyes on you still, a shy smile on his face before he turns towards the bar and leans on the wooden counter. You set the glass down on the table and look back to your friends.

The three of you sip on your drinks for about thirty minutes or so, talking about school and catching up on life. At some point while you were all catching up, the bar switched to playing early 2000s music as more people came in. You find your eyes wandering towards the gorgeous man every few minutes, admiring his side profile, the way his hand is wrapped around his beer bottle and his shirt is rolled up to expose his forearms.

You all finish your drinks and Aya is pulling you and Dee onto the dance floor. “Come on!! I love this song!!!”

You don’t recognize the song, but you follow them onto the floor dancing and smiling as they sing along. You find yourself looking towards the bar again hoping to catch the man’s eye, but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to get another drink.” You say loudly over the music.

The girls just nod and keep singing along. You make your way through the crowd that’s formed in the place and find the bar. Your eyes are still scanning, looking for him, when all of a sudden someone comes up beside you, leaning onto the bar. From the corner of your eye you can tell who it is. You turn your head and it’s the mystery man. He’s even more attractive up close, a dimple on his right cheek as he smiles down at you, slight creases next to his eyes. Your eyes travel down towards his broad shoulders and the skin on his chest that’s showing where his shirt is unbuttoned.

“Hi.” the man says while smiling down at you. His voice is like honey, deep with a southern drawl.

Your lips slightly part as you hesitate for a second “Hi.” you finally say back.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He nods towards the bar.

You shake your head in agreement.

“What are you havin’, sweetheart?” He asks.

You clear your throat. “Whatever you’re having.” You smile.

“Hm.” his lip quirks up as his eyes roam your form. The bartender comes over and he orders two beers, then his eyes are back on you. “You here with friends?”

“Yeah uh, I was out of town, I just got back so we’re celebrating.” You decide to keep it vague.

“Well,” the bartender comes back with your beers and he hands one to you. “Welcome back.” He smirks, then you both take a sip.

You can’t help but watch the way his hand wraps around the bottle as he brings it up to meet his lips. You take a few sips of your beer, eyes still locked on him, then place it back on the counter. You’re feeling a little more confident now.

“What about you,” you place your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand, looking up at him. “Who are you here with?”

He looks over his shoulder into the crowd, an amused look on his face. “My brother.” You follow his eyes to see his brother sitting in a booth with a girl, leaning into her as they talk.

You giggle then turn back to the man. You’re noticing some similar features now that you know they’re brothers.

“You two come here every weekend chatting up girls and buying them drinks?” You bite your cheek and give him a teasing look.

He nods his head slowly looking down at the bar where he’s leaning on his forearms and lets out a small laugh. “Every now n’ then.” He looks back at you, a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Mmm bit of a player huh?” You lift your brow, teasing him some more.

He’s laughing again, it’s a deep chested laugh that makes his shoulders slightly bounce. “Wouldn’t say that, haven’t had much luck recently.” He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes.

You nod your head taking another swig of your beer “So, what do you do for a living?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Uh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m a contractor.” that explains his broad shoulders.

You bite your thumb and lean a little closer to him, arm brushing up against his. The alcohol is definitely taking an effect now. You’re checking him out again, and it’s not subtle. The way his shirt fits snug around his biceps, and his jeans fit his waist just right. He takes another sip of his beer and your eyes lock again.

Then suddenly a song you recognize comes on, Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado. You hear your friends squealing on the dance floor as the song starts, causing you to whip your head towards them then back to the mystery man.

“I’ll be right back.” You smile at him sweetly, finishing off your beer and setting the empty bottle on the table before leaving to join your friends.

You get out to the floor and they hold their hands out towards you, smiling and singing along to the song. You’re swaying your hips to the beat, mouthing the lyrics as you dance. Your hands are moving up and down your body, over the tights you’re wearing and slightly bunching up the short slip dress you have on. You’re lost in the music, then suddenly your eyes lock with the mystery man’s again, darkening as they watch you move. He’s leaning up against the bar, beer in one hand and the other in his front pocket.

‘Promiscuous boy you already know

That I’m all yours, what you waiting for?’

You’re mouthing the words, eyes never leaving his. You tilt your head to the side and give him a cheeky smile before moving your hands over your hips again. He lifts his hand out of his pocket, beckoning you back to him with his pointer finger. You shake your head no, and mimic his motion telling him to come to you. You turn away from him, back towards your friends, then glance at him over your shoulder and mouth, “Dance with me.”

A few moments later you feel a large warm hand run down your arm, and the back of a hand runs over the nape of your neck and down your shoulder before resting on your hips. You turn your head to look and it’s your mystery man, looking down at you with desire in his eyes. You turn around, still in his grasp, and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body flush to his.

You’re swaying with his hands on your hips now, grinding up against him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he leans his forehead against yours, taking in a deep breath. You tilt your head up, heavy lidded eyes scanning his face and your nose bumping his, your parted lips allowing a shared breath in the scant space between your mouths.

Then he’s kissing you, one hand on your hip lightly squeezing, the other resting on your cheek. He lets out a small groan and slips his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of mint and beer fill your senses. You gently pull the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to let out a sigh.

“Sweetheart.” His voice sounds gravelly and deeper than before. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, so low it’s almost a whisper, just between the two of you.

You’re so close to him, you can feel his arousal straining against his pants as you press yourself against him.

“Come with me.” he looks down at you while trying to catch his breath.

He kisses you again, hand resting on your cheek. You nod approvingly as he pulls away. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you off the dance floor towards the door. You notice his hand is much larger than yours, a little rough and calloused most likely from his job. He looks back at you a few times, and you just stare at his broad frame as you follow him. You look at the way his hair sits so perfectly, eyes wandering to his large forearms as he pulls you along behind him.

Moments later you two are outside and he’s pulling you around the side of the brick building. He backs you up against the wall, lips immediately crashing into yours. His palms rest on either side of your face, thumbs roughly caressing your cheeks like he just can’t get enough.

“You were killing me in there,” He’s towering over you, your hands clinging to his forearms.

“Was I? Couldn’t tell.” you smile slyly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re somethin’ else babe, deadly.” he’s kissing you again, hands moving down your body to your waist.

You grab at the fabric of his shirt near his chest, trying desperately to pull him closer. His large hands find the hem of your dress and move up over your tights clad thighs. You moan into his mouth, heat already starting to build at your core. Moans and heavy breaths filling the air as you claw at his skin. You gently bite at his lower lip then slip your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. As you lower your hands towards the waist of his jeans, tucking your fingers into the front and pulling his hips flush against yours, you feel him shudder. You let out a whine as you feel the imprint of his straining cock once again.

Then you hear the door to the bar bursting open and two familiar voices talking. “It’s okay, it’s okay, shhhh.”

You freeze as your lips leave Joel’s, wide eyes meeting his before stepping away from him to peer around the corner. He lets out a groan as he adjusts himself, one hand still on your hip trailing behind you as you near the corner of the building. Then you see Aya with her arm around Dee, rubbing her back. You stand up straight, pulling away from Joel.

“Oh my god?! What happened?” You sprint over to them.

“Oh thank god, we were looking everywhere for you.” Aya looks up at you. “Dee had too much to drink, we need to go.” She loops her arm into Dee’s. “I grabbed your things, where were you?”

Then you see her eyes wander to the broad older man shuffling up behind you and her eyes go wide. She leans in close to you and mouths “Oh my god”. You can feel your face heating up as you turn around to face him.

“You ladies need a ride home?” He looks down at you, concerned look on his face.

“Oh uh.” You turn back to Aya.

“No, we've got it covered-” she smiles at him.

“But thank you,” it comes out louder than intended. “I appreciate it,” taking a step closer to him you whisper “And sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, Killer.” He flashes a charming smile at you.

“Killer?” You laugh at the nickname and he nods his head.

“We gotta go!” Aya yells out to you.

You whip your head to look at her, then your eyes meet his again. “Well, it was nice meeting you, mystery man.” You give him one last look and go to turn around towards your friends. He gently grabs your shoulder, surprising you.

“Wait,” it comes out soft as he whips you around to face him again. “Can I at least have your number?”

You hesitate for a moment. “What, so you can add me to your roster?” You try to hold back a smile.

“C’mon.” he looks away shaking his head, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

“Give me your phone.” He looks back at you, relief in his eyes. Then he pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You type in your number and put your contact name as Killer. You hand him back his phone and quickly get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His eyes go slightly wide, and then you’re turning away, running towards the car before he can say anything. As you grab your jacket and purse from your friend and slip into the car, you smile at him before closing the door.

You watch him through the window standing there with his hands in his pockets as the car pulls away. Your mystery man, you hope to see him again.

ty for reading xo

tagging a few moots but np! anyone who wants to be tagged in the next one let me know :)

@nostalxgic @ilovepedro @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @beskarandblasters @jenispunk @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pedrospartner @canseethebrushstrokes @scrambledslut @isitmeulookin4 @tinygarbage <3

[anqelicxz]

Hi do you feel like doing a Benny Rodriguez x sweetheart reader kind of thing. Reader is like the sweet girl next door and Benny is basically her charming boy who takes her on dates and calls her father either by sir or his last name. She thinks its sweet that Benny is helping out smalls . Maybe even add a cliche moment like in the movie "Say Anything"

Mission accomplished.

✮ ━━ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : after benny charms his 'darling lover girl' from next door, his next mission is to impress her father.

୨୧ ━━ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : some changes in the suggestions (sorry!) And, just pure fluff. And maybe some lines from my favorite series, bridgerton and boy Meets world ;) really hope you guys would know

ᥫ᭡ ━━ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : I'm so very happy

that 2 people had requested 😜 btw I will do the next one maybe next day or next week Monday or tonight. Sorry for not posting!

If there was a word that would describe benny, it would definitely be, respectful.

He would never leave a place without people saying 'he's such a charming boy' or 'he will get a lot of girls.'

Due to his charm, and kindness, people start to take a liking to him, especially.. Y/n.

I mean, it wasn't y/n's fault to fall in love with benny 'the jet' Rodriguez after he helped his dear friend, smalls, retrieve his ball back.

Little did you know, he took an interest to you too.

It started with waves and hey's when they would pass by each other.

Oh! Did I mention, they live next door? She was a house apart from the Rodriguez's and the Small's family.

But..

Eventually, they started striking conversations.

Conversations to meet ups,

To hanging out in his house,

To going to the sandlot with him,

To dating.

Yes, you're guys we're both 14 year olds, but his mother adores you so much, she kept pestering the poor boy when is he gonna ask y/n out.

So, benny took her out on a date.

And the rest is history.

Except for today.

Benny is in his room, making sure his attire was correct and approachable for y/n's father.

He was so scared, he kept asking his mom if this was okay.

Of course, she said yes.

As time passed by, it was finally the moment, where he was going to knock on the door. And hopefully, and hopefully, see her answering it.

As he rang the doorbell, he adjusted his sleeves. Wearing just a long black shirt with a collar and his black jeans.

To his surprise, it was..

Y/n's father.

"Hello." He said, rather stoicly.

"Hi sir." Benny replied. Trying his best to stay calm. But his breathing gave him up.

Y/n's father, took a closer inspection to the Rodriguez boy. After a while, y/n finally came.

"Dad! Hey benny" y/n smiled softly, making benny forget about everything but her.

Even her father, softened and smiled softly at his daughter. "Come in, let's go!" She took Benny's hand, leading him in to her house, then to the dining room.

As they finally got into the dining room, benny sat down.

Along with y/n and her dad.

As they ate, her father asked about what he does, what does he want to be, etc.

Until he dropped the bomb.

"Why should I allow you to be romantically involved with my daughter?" Y/n's father asked.

Y/n dropped her fork and went to pick it up, glaring at her dad like she's saying 'why would you do that?'

Benny felt his heart pounding, but had no other choice than to tell the whole truth.

"Well sir.. " benny started.

"I think she was one of the most gentle, kind, and loving girl I've ever met. And when she first moved in, I thought she looked.. Gorgeous, or angelic. But in that moment, I knew that, even the prettiest girl, wouldn't come close to her beauty." The boy says, looking at her father.

"And- ever since we became friends, I longed to be with her every single second. Because not only did I fall for her face, but with her loyalty and personality."

"The way she would come over when I ask for help, like a friend. And how she would always light up the room when things go silent.. But the problem is.. I do not want y/n to be my friend, nor my best friend, but to be my girlfriend or future wife or future mother to my future kids." Benny stated. Taking a long deep breath.

"But, If you have your doubts, I promise to never break her heart, I promise to hold her hand until both of us turn into ashes, and I promise to love her with all my heart." The Rodriguez boy added.

After that explanation, y/n's dad smiled softly at his daughter, chuckling as she looked at Benny with such a wide smile, it could show her dimples.

"Y/n, take the plates out please." Her father said, as y/n tried to argue, he gave her a look saying 'I want to talk to him.'

Y/n nodded, taking her, Benny's, and her dads plate before going into the kitchen.

"You can date her. But. If you break her heart, I will break your arm." Y/ns dad said as she left the room. And he was dead serious.

"I promise sir." Benny nodded, hiding his big smile by biting the inside of his cheeks.

After the big night, Benny waved goodbye to y/n and her father.

As the boy was about to go to his house, he felt a tug at his wrist making him turn.

Y/n.

"Hey.." Y/n said, smiling sheepishly.

"Hi.." He chuckled.

"I just wanted to say.. Thank you, and.. It's really romantic how you would say those things."

"He wants the reason, I give him my full reason" he smirks and shrugs.

"Jerk." Y/n said playfully. Making Benny laugh softly.

"Good night by the way." She said before giving a peck on Benny's lips making him widen his eyes as the last thing he sees was y/n running back to her house.

"Good night.." Benny muttered, holding his lips as he can't believe his 'darling love girl' finally kissed him.

Safe to say, they lived a happy life.

[theragethatisdesire]

"ti penso ogni giorno" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

first fic! kind of threw this together while traveling and had no beta readers, so please be nice to me. i've been spending some time in the italian countryside and got a little inspired.

pairing: reader x eren jaeger

wc: 7.5k (jesus christ)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, unprotected sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, princess), slight breeding kink (if you squint) crying, multiple orgasm, creampie, aftercare

**title means "i think about you every day" in italian :')

Standing on top of this mountain looking over unfamiliar fields, you don’t remember a time in the recent past you’ve felt so at peace, the quiet fluttering of the sparrows easing the ever-present ache in your heart.

It was a tasteful ceremony. A small church in the middle of the Chianti region, in a little town with a name you couldn’t pronounce, decorated with so many candles that the room was sweltering, even with the breeze wafting in from the hills. Mikasa and Jean’s little girl, Clara, had played the role of flower girl perfectly; you hadn’t seen her since she was a newborn, and there she was, toddling down the aisle on fat little three-year-old legs. Historia and Ymir were beautiful brides, practically unchanged over the years, still as consumed with each other as they had been in college.

Even now, you distinctly remember a drunken night when Ymir promised Historia that she would take her to Europe one day, and here she was, marrying her beloved blonde in the heart of Italy. Another memory surfaces, parallel to that one, of someone looping an arm around your waist as you watched college-Ymir make her declaration, a whisper in your ear of the same promise. You pack that up and tuck it away as soon as it surfaces, scratching at your elbow.

“What are you doing out here?” Mikasa’s voice is behind you, drawing closer. You smile down at Clara, holding her mother’s hand and wobbling out into the grass.

“Just thinking,” you sigh, swishing your wine around in its glass, “I should come back in and join the party.”

“They just finished the champagne toast, but you haven’t missed the first dance,” Mikasa agrees.

You take Clara’s other hand and reluctantly allow yourself to be led back into the thick of things, the two of you swinging the little girl between you. Her shrieks of joy make you smile in spite of yourself, calming the nerves fluttering around in your stomach. Years had passed and things had changed, you and everyone else around you included.

It was a gorgeous reception, even more beautiful than the ceremony. They’d chosen a huge stone patio outside of the massive villa they’d rented, covered by columns of stone arching up to form a roof and dripping with flowered vines. It was exactly what you would’ve chosen, so beautiful it didn’t need decoration. Simple, natural, Tuscan.

“He didn’t bring a date,” Mikasa murmurs to you as you enter the terrace, scanning the room for Jean. She didn’t need to specify who “he” was; you had seen him at the ceremony, longer hair than you remembered, two rows ahead of you. Even if you hadn’t, the sad truth was there was really only one “he” for you, and Mikasa knew that.

“What do you want me to do with that?” You respond, trying and failing to mask your discomfiture with irritation.

“Whatever you want,” Mikasa shrugs, vague as always, scooping Clara up onto her hip and striding across the tented reception to Jean. You watch her go, watch Jean take Clara and kiss Mikasa, envy and self-pity clawing at your heart.

Ymir and Historia chose a slower song than you expected; it must be Historia’s doing that they were doing a first dance at all. Ymir had made it exceptionally clear during the bachelorette trip that all of the frills were to make Historia happy, and she was mostly looking forward to the honeymoon. The memory makes you snort into your empty wine glass, until you catch a glimpse of green eyes across the room.

Eren’s suit is more expensive than anything you knew he owned, sharp at the corners and resembling something your boss’ boss would wear. Mikasa had mentioned months ago that Eren and Zeke’s business was really taking off, but you find yourself wondering if these were the clothes he wore now, or if it was a splurge. He’s staring at you, no surprise there. Breakup aside, Eren’s the most possessive person you’ve ever known, and anything that was his is always his, at least from his point of view. That was part of the problem, you reflect, tracing your red fingernail around the rim of your wine glass.

The first dance concludes and amidst the applause, waiters begin circling the room with hors d'oeuvres, little bits of smoked salmon and crudite platters. After the travel and ceremony, you’re ravenous, and you begin weaving your way through the crowd to track down a tray with carbohydrates on it.

You’re halfway through stuffing a croquette into your mouth when Armin interrupts you, chuckling. “Hungry?”

“I only flew over this morning,” you excuse yourself, dabbing at your mouth with a cocktail napkin. Armin doesn’t care, you know that, but after the last few years of cocktail hours with the most influential magazine and website owners in the world, manners are second-nature.

“At least it was a short flight. You came from…Belgium?”

“Moscow,” you shrug, “four hour flight into Milan, two hour train, hour long car service.”

“Car service?” Armin cocks an eyebrow. “Haven’t you gotten fancy over the years?”

You blush, embarrassed. “Did you fly from the states?”

“Shanghai, actually.” Armin’s face shows it, still puffy from the flight. “I don’t even know how many hours, just that it was long.”

“I’ve made that flight,” you say, empathizing, “not a fun one.”

“I was able to throw some miles from my company card into it and get first class, though, it was the nicest-”

“Can I join you two?” Your heart drops. You knew he was watching you, he’s always watching you, but to be so bold as to interrupt a conversation, speak to you here? Now?

“Sure, Eren,” Armin steps to the side to make room for Eren at the high-top table you’ve found yourselves gathering around, “we were just catching up on our flights over.”

Eren nods, masterfully collected as he smiles politely at you. “I actually had business over here, so I left New York maybe…a week ago, now? It wasn’t bad at all, our company card covers first-class flights.”

Some strange mix of annoyance and being impressed swells in your throat. You take a swig of wine to swallow it, not trusting yourself to resist throwing out a snarky comment or alternatively inquiring about where this first-class-covering business card came from. You don’t owe him the satisfaction. Armin nods politely, but you can see the tension in his smile. The history between Eren and you could stretch for miles of scorched earth, and it’s no secret. You imagine that earth, black and smoking, half-finished houses with white picket fences smoldering down to their foundations.

“So,” Eren breaks the silence, turning to you, “where did you come in from?”

“Moscow.” One-word answers, minimal detail, you assure yourself in your head. He won’t get his claws in you this time if you don’t let him.

“Moscow is beautiful,” Eren sips the bourbon that you had considered throwing in his face when he approached, “but a little cold this time of year, isn’t it?”

“It was very nice, actually,” you can’t help disagreeing for the sake of it, “I was only in town for a few days covering a story, anyway.” Shit. You’ve betrayed yourself already and revealed a detail. Eren’s smile curls up over his cheeks like a cat that’s found a trapped mouse. You kick yourself inwardly.

“Hear that, Armin? Our little bookworm is still writing.”

You roll your eyes at the old nickname from college, earned by your constant pleas to stay in for a comfy night instead of a frat party. You had read over 350 books in college, breaking your four-year goal by at least fifty. Eren used to beg you to tell him the stories you read before bed like a child, because he couldn’t be bothered to read the actual book and it sounds so much more interesting when you read it, baby. And up until the last three years, you had obliged him. Now, the only person you read to sleep is yourself.

“I made a career out of it,” you snip, “so yes, still writing.”

“Clara’s getting into the wedding cake- I don’t see Mikasa, shit, one sec-” Armin’s sentence is cut short by the speed with which he darts away from the pair of you, running off towards a table on the other side of the room. You don’t necessarily blame him, but you seethe anyway, vowing to repay him for abandoning you.

“Career, hm?” Eren hums pleasantly. “Work’s going well, then?”

You snatch a second glass of wine off of a passing tray, wanting more than anything to walk away from him, but you both know your feet won’t move. Getting a nice buzz going is your only option, at this point. You take a healthy swig, shrugging. “I enjoy it, and it pays.” 

“That’s a beautiful dress,” Eren murmurs, quiet and thoughtful. You blush and frown all at once.

“Says the one wearing a $6,000 suit.”

“Is it?” Eren fingers his lapel. He looks amused, and you want to smack the faux-bashfulness right off of his face. “I honestly didn’t know.”

“Your work must be going exceedingly well, then,” you glare, seeing right through him. The facade falters for just a moment, a critical moment: Eren almost looks sad.

“The business took off about a year ago,” he’s not looking at you, focusing on something in the distance, “so I’m traveling almost constantly now. I hardly see Zeke, my only company is usually just my assistant or a flight attendant. I love visiting a new city every week, but it’s…”

“Lonely?” You finish for him before you can stop yourself. He nods, looking surprised.

“Your work keeps you on the go now, too?”

“I switched over to a rolling travel schedule two years ago, when Rolling Stone started their global music column. It ended up being super popular and I’m the lead journalist, so I’m basically running all over the world listening to the weirdest music you can imagine. They had me head over to Berlin one time to cover the ‘rising alien punk scene’; it was…really something.” You pull a funny face at the memory, Eren laughs, a deep, real laugh from the belly. You can hear yourself rambling, revealing, but you can’t stop. It’s so natural that the realization of falling back into yourself, the self that loved Eren, is making your skin crawl. You should walk away, look for an out-

“Have you explored the grounds at all?”

Eren’s question snaps you out of your moment of clarity, back into his magnetic field. “The grounds?”

“This house,” Eren gestures to the villa that Ymir and Historia have rented for their closest friends, “sits on over a thousand acres of vineyard. The best wine in the world.”

“I can tell,” you examine the legs on your glass of red, provided by the vineyard itself, “it’s not my usual French, but it’s incredible.”

“Snob,” Eren grins at you. You have always been a picky wine drinker, Eren used to joke that you could pass a sommelier test without even taking the course. “So, the grounds?”

He offers you an elbow. You look at it, weighing but not really weighing your options, and slip your arm through his, feeling the rapid thudding of your pulse. You’re fairly sure if anyone looked closely at your neck, they’d see the frantic heartbeat insistently pushing right under your skin. You tell yourself it will only be a short walk, just a few minutes, because you do want to see the grounds, even if it’s with the last person you should be spending any time with. You hope that you’ll be able to sneak out without catching Mikasa’s eye.

Eren tugs you along, prattling on about the history of the vineyard, entirely unaware that you’re not listening. This Eren is so different from the Eren you left in New York, but still similar, still feels like home. His nose and jaw have only grown stronger with age, but his eyes still have a youthful glimmer, even if they seem sharper and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. It’s unlikely that he’s physically grown even taller between 23 and 26, but his presence makes him seem like the tallest man in the room. He’s self assured, confident, and in charge, in a manlier, more mature way that you’ve never seen before. A heat simmers in your stomach as you admire the curve of his strong neck, and you want to swat your own hand, tell yourself to settle down. It’s just a walk.

“I think I could die happy here,” Eren says, looking over the view you’ve approached, about a half mile from the rest of the party now. You chuckle.

“A beautiful view and some good wine is all it takes?”

“That’s most of it, these days,” Eren shrugs, “but I do need cable. And-”

“A television, a gym, at least one case of shitty domestic beer in the house at all times,” you count off on your fingers.

“For starters,” Eren concedes with a shy grin. “And a wife.”

Those last two words cause your heart to stop altogether. You look around, realizing just how far you are from the villa, how alone you are with him. The sun is setting reluctantly around you both, sinking slowly, holding onto the landscape with an iron grip.

“That would be nice,” you stammer, “f-for you, definitely.”

“Want to explore this building over here?” As if nothing out of the ordinary happened, Eren points out a smaller home down the hill from you both. “It’s really cool inside.”

You trudge along beside him, having kicked off your heels and left them at the reception long ago, and a fresh wave of anger kicks up in your chest. It was just so quintessentially Eren; drop a bomb, and then act like nothing happened. It reminds you that there are aspects of Eren you can’t stand, and that reminder instills you with the confidence to seclude yourself with him in the charming little stone house.

It is really cool. No window panes in the entire bottom floor, just the fresh vineyard air rolling in. There’s a little kitchenette, some various odds and ends of sofas and chairs sprawling across the clay-bricked floors. A huge table, clearly made for workers’ lunch breaks over the centuries, squats in the middle of the bottom floor, and racks of wine cover the walls. You break away from him to pick up a bottle or two, examine the label, brush off some dust.

Eren grants you a few moments to yourself before you sense him behind you, closer than you want to consider.

“Anything good?” He says, peering right over your shoulder from the sound of it.

You turn around before you can regret it, chest to chest with him. He’s hunching his head to make the best eye contact with you he can, the way he’s always done. You focus on breathing normally, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how his proximity still affects you after all these years. “A ‘92 vintage Chianti. They actually talked about this wine in my sommelier course; I didn’t even realize this was the same vineyard.”

“You took the course?” Eren smiles crookedly, an endearing grin that you’ve always loved. You smile despite yourself.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly, “I took the course.”

Eren grins wider, and thankfully leaves you there, striding across the room to shuffle through the kitchen drawers. When he returns, he’s holding a wine key and two glasses. You cock your head, confused.

“It’s supposed to be the best, huh? Crack it open.”

“Eren…” you trail off, holding the bottle gingerly, “this bottle has to be over a thousand dollars. We can’t do it.”

“Did I forget to mention this is my bunk for the trip?” He smiles again, his prominent canines glinting in the sunset light streaming in, gesturing around the room grandly; your knees nearly buckle at the sight. “Bedroom’s upstairs. Ymir and Historia said any of the wine’s up for grabs. It’s the owners’ fault if they left the good stuff out for us to get into, and it’s on my tab anyway.”

You’re nearly speechless, not only that Eren got an entire house to himself (he’s always been the spoiled brat of the friend group), but that he tricked you into coming here, with him. When you fail to respond, he takes it simply as more reluctance to open the bottle, and he grabs the bottle from you and starts to dig the corkscrew in through the top.

You let a few beats pass, considering your options as he pours the wine. When he finally hands you the glass, you give voice to your thoughts, testing the waters. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because you love wine and the house is cool,” Eren shrugs innocently, taking a sip, “damn, that’s good. Try it.”

You hold your glass stock-still in your hands. “We’re done with…what we used to do, you know. That’s not what’s going on here.”

The air sparkles with dust; Eren’s demeanor stutters, a small frown working its way onto his face. “Just try the wine, babe.”

Your heart flutters, your stomach sinks, your memories with Eren shriek from the back of your mind. The pet name is too familiar, too easy, and it brings a cold chill over you. As you’re prone to do, your panic comes shooting out coated in snark.“Babe? Yeah, no, I’m done-”

“Sorry, sorry– it was a mistake, force of habit,” Eren’s already apologizing as you’re talking; you hate how he can still anticipate your reaction before you can give it. He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, rolling his eyes, “a mistake. Try your wine, you don’t know when you’re going to stumble across that again.”

You let him hold your wrist, enjoying the pressure of his strong hands into the delicate flesh of your arm despite yourself. You look between him, the wine, the room several times, as if you’re weighing your decision. You know what you’re going to choose, but maybe you can pretend that he doesn’t know, too. Eren’s willing to play along, eyes wide and pleading.

Without breaking your gaze, you carefully taste the wine. Damn him, it is good. It has a complexity of flavor and a depth to it that’s incredibly rare, even in the French countryside wines you tend to favor. Even though you fight it, you smile at him and offer your glass for him to pour more.

The bottle passes quickly, both of you settling yourselves in chairs at the kitchen table, discussing old friends, new friends, reminiscing on the college years when you were both a little happier and a little less sane. You hardly notice the sun setting further, the smallest bits of twilight leaking into the corners of the sky.

“Your teeth are so red,” you giggle, head spinning. The wine was delicious, delicious enough for Eren to pop open a second bottle, but God, was it strong. You aren’t sure how you’ll manage the walk back up to the reception- is the reception even still going on?

“So are yours,” Eren pinches your cheek, giggling drunkenly along with you.

“God, you’re right.” You place a finger onto your teeth, rubbing frantically at the wine stains to no avail. Eren reaches a wobbling hand out to pull your fingers out of your mouth, shaking his head. He frowns and shakes his head, childlike.

“Don’t take them off.”

“The wine stains?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? They make teeth look dirty,” you laugh again, trying to shove your finger back into your mouth where Eren’s holding it.

“I…okay, maybe it’s weird, but I always thought it was kind of sexy when your teeth were all red from wine,” Eren blushes, and it’s so childishly endearing that you can feel your heart swell.

“Really?”

“I never told you that?” Eren looks astonished, chuckling under his breath. “It drove me crazy back when we were together. You’d go to Historia’s, or Sasha’s, or whoever’s and down a bottle or two of red and come stumbling back into that crappy apartment in Harlem-”

“-the one with the mean bodega lady outside!”

“Yes!” Eren snaps his fingers, pointing at you excitedly. “Anyway, you’d come waddling back in, hair a mess and wine all over your teeth, your lips would be bright purple, and you’d always be so horny-”

“Eren!”

“It’s true! You’d ride me for an hour before you knocked out.” Eren sipped his wine, smiling in a private way that you felt was just for you.

“An hour seems like a bit of a stretch,” you murmur, looking down into your glass. You’ve almost finished your wine and you shouldn’t have any more, the reception is waiting for you and you’ve been gone with Eren long enough that you’ve been missed at this point. When you pull your head up, Eren looks different. It’s a familiar face on a new man: his eyes have a mischievous glimmer in them, the sunset winking at you through his green irises.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips; your mind wanders to that tongue, those lips. Mentally, you dance over what you know those lips and tongue can do, how they feel on your mouth, your neck, between your legs. Your wine-addled mind tries to shake the persistent thought. Eren reaches a hand over to your mouth, absentmindedly rubbing a thumb over the corner of your lips.

“Still think it looks sexy,” he mumbles, half-drunk and half expecting a stern reprimand from you. His eyes search your face, curious of your reaction. It’s the moment you’ve been running around the world from for the last three years, finally coming to fruition here in this little house. 

You embarrass and surprise yourself simultaneously: tears well in your eyes. You want him; you’re drunk and beautiful and desperate for him in the beautiful countryside of Italy, but he’s so bad for you. They’re tears that have been waiting behind your eyes, tears of frustration and desire.

“Why are you crying?” Eren asks, furrowing his brow. You know he knows, he understands you and your emotions better than anyone. You’re angry with him, angry that he knows the source of your tears before you open your mouth.

“We’re done, Eren,” you fail miserably to steel your voice, “we can’t do this anymore, remember? It’s not good for us.”

“It’s been three years, baby,” Eren responds, still rubbing his thumb over your lips, “three years of growing. We’re different now– I’m different.”

“No,” you sniffle, feeling like a child. Whether he’s changed or not is still up for debate, but your sore heart can only take so much. He’s so beautiful, soaked in sun and wine and temptation, simpering at you. Your resolve is weakening by the second.

“Yes,” Eren insists, “it’s me. You belong to me, you know you do.”

“Eren–”

“You always do this, always try to run from me, but I’ll always find you,” he murmurs, “I’ll go to every corner of the earth if I need to. I’ll always find you because you’re mine.”

You’d love to say that he leaned in, he grabbed your face and pulled you to him, but you’d be lying. It’s you who leans forward ever so slightly, catching your chapped lips in his and kissing him tentatively. You wouldn’t be lying if you told anyone that he sighed into your mouth, ready to feel your body under his hands again. You wouldn’t be lying in the slightest.

Eren allows you a few tentative kisses, a few pecks against his lips, familiar and new all the same. Once you’ve had your fill of shyness, your obligatory ruse of unassuredness, he reaches for you, scooping you into his lap. You straddle him, whimpering at the friction of his already-growing bulge against your clothed cunt. He has to push your dress up to allow you room to spread your legs over him; you’re wearing a slinky little silk number, a gorgeous deep brown against your tanned skin, but not cooperative for lap-sitting.

Eren’s tongue is practically down your throat, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you have to pull away for air, hands roaming your now-bare thighs.

“This dress,” he pants between kisses, “is so fucking perfect on you. Look so good for me.”

You sigh into his mouth, running your hands through his hair. Off to the side of your mind, you realize you may have knocked his hair out of its bun, but the dark locks feel so soft in your fingers, you can’t bring yourself to apologize for it. He’s wrapping his hands around your ass; Eren always loved your full hips, and it seems that that fact hasn’t changed.

Your hands find their way to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He’s grown stronger over the years, definitive muscles rippling under your fingers, but the broadness he’s always possessed is still there. He’s large compared to you, twice as wide and at least a head taller, and you loathe to admit it, but it turns you on. You love the way he manhandles you, the way he pushes and pulls you exactly how he wants you, the way he grabs your hips hard enough to bruise, rocking them against his own.

A particularly well-placed thrust of his hips against yours elicits a wanton groan from you, spilling into his mouth. Eren moans back, moving away from your lips to mouth his way down your throat.

“Gonna sit you up now, okay?”

He stands, knocking the chairs aside on his way up, to set you on the table, the perfect height for him to grope at you, pull your dress this way and that.

“Wanna get this thing off, will you let me?”

You hesitate, or try to, at least. His hands are dizzying, flying all over your body and squeezing at just the right spots as he nibbles on your earlobe. “But, the reception–”

“Sh, sh, sh. We’re so far away, baby, they’ll never even know, yeah?” Eren goads you and you’re putty in his hands, the rapidly-shrinking rational part of your brain growing quieter with each kiss, each pet. He manages to wrench your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but a stringy pair of panties. Eren steps back to look over you; you resist the urge to cover yourself. You know his routine.

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, palming your tits, “you’re perfect, do you know that? So beautiful just for me, aren’t you?”

You flush pink from your chest to your forehead. Even after years of love and war and running, his bedroom talk still gets to you. Eren loves to tell you what he thinks of you, and you’ve never managed to grow accustomed to hearing it.

“Say it.”

“Hm?” You hum, preoccupied with his mouth pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses around your breasts, even pausing to suck a bruise into the side of your left.

“Say you’re beautiful, tell me how pretty you are for me.”

This part is new; Eren has always loved to talk to you in bed, but your participation in the dirty talk has been minimal until now. Your blush grows even deeper. “I’m beautiful, beautiful just for you.”

“Good girl,” Eren purrs, allowing you to pull his head closer to your chest. His tongue swirls around one nipple. He closes his lips around it, sucking hard, and you moan openly, pulling him closer. Eren grins, letting his teeth pinch down on it. “You still like when I play with your tits, hm?”

“Yes,” you hiss, too caught up in pleasure to address his smugness.

“Know you baby, know you inside and out. These tits are mine,” a hand wanders down to your cunt, swiping across your panties and feeling the wetness that soaks them, “and this pussy’s mine too. You might not love me anymore, but your body– oh, she loves me.”

You have no way to respond to that, no way to address what those words do to your brain. Chagrin as you might be to admit it, he’s right. Eren was your first and only adult relationship, fucking your body into submission for years and training it, training your cunt to respond to him and the way he liked to touch you. He’s pushed and prodded you into his perfect little fuckdoll, and you let him and you loved it. You loved every second of it, and god does it feel good rushing back to you now, finally under his hands again after years without.

Eren nudges your panties to the side, rubbing quick circles over your clit, just the way you like it. A long, heady whine leaks from your lips, your hips urgently roll towards him.

“Missed me? Is that it?” Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smug grin on his lips. Eren loves when you’re needy for him.

“Mhm,” you indulge him in the hopes you’ll get what you want, and you’re right. A long finger sinks into you, instantly curling to press into the spongy spot within your walls that has you swooning, clutching desperately onto his shoulders.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

You pull at his suit jacket, fumbling with the buttons on his collared shirt. “Want it off, want to see you.”

Eren relents, pulling his hand from you to step back and strip his shirt and jacket. He is as muscular as he feels; you drag your eyes over his strong chest, his defined abs, and the deep V leading down below his belt. You briefly remember all of your post-college friends, girls that had never known Eren, teasing you that he was your hottest ex. You had blushed, but you understand. He’s like a Greek statue, glistening with sweat from the evening heat, every crevice of him on display just for you. It sends a fresh wave of heat pulsing through your body, and you pull him back to you, relishing in the feel of his hands on you.

“Want me to make you cum, is that it?” Eren’s amused, sinking two fingers into your heat. You croon, nodding desperately. He chuckles, moving his fingers against the spot inside of you. “I’ve got you, don’t worry baby. Gonna make you feel good.”

You nod again into his shoulder, attached to him wherever you can find the space, grasping his body and pulling it to yours. You wish you had the capacity to be ashamed of your need, laid bare for him to see, but you don’t. All you can think about is his fingers moving in you, gaining speed and bringing you closer to an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He slides a third in, just to be safe, and you’re so wet that your pussy accepts it willingly. The stretch makes you pout, push at his chest. “Too much, Eren–”

“Gotta get you ready for me,” he huffs, his arousal getting the better of him, “get you ready to get fucked. Cunt’s tight after all these years, isn’t it? Gotta work it open.”

That does a lot to your hazy brain; you bite deep into his shoulder, moans coming faster and louder as he works his fingers in you. The bubble is building in the pit of your stomach, your hips are canting towards him.

“Eren, Eren I–”

“I know, I know,” he coos, fingers curling inside you even faster, “my girl needs to cum, doesn’t she? You want to cum all over my fingers, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry into his skin, biting and moaning alternatively. Your head’s spinning; you can’t remember the last time you felt this good. You’re no nun, not by any means, but Eren knows your body, crafted it to respond to him, to his hands and mouth and cock, and your body is rejoicing at the feel of him on and in you again. You can’t hold it, you know you can’t, you’re moments away now. “Eren, I’m going to cum, I’m gonna–”

“Do it, baby,” he growls into your ear, his fingers working even faster, thumb moving up to swipe at your clit, “give it to me, want to hear you cum.”

Your body convulses and you’re cumming hard, with Eren the first one of the night always goes that way. Eren knows it, pulls you close against him and works his fingers in you, helping you ride it out. He’s practically purring into your ear, telling you what a good girl you are, cumming all over his fingers like that, and you eat it up. You cry into his flesh where it’s secured between your teeth, rocking your hips into his hand desperately.

Your orgasm begins to fade, and you find the presence of mind to shove at his fingers, begging for a reprieve. “Give me your cock, want it in my mouth.”

“Is that what you need?” Eren’s already helping you onto your knees, gentle, but needy. “Need my cock in your mouth?”

“Please,” you say eagerly, adjusting your knees to a comfortable position on the dirt floor, easily unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down his legs. He steps out of his shoes, kicking his pants off, strong thighs twitching under your nails as you softly scratch down them. A groan rumbles in Eren’s chest at your enthusiasm, he places a hand on your head, running through your curls.

“Can’t be for too long, ‘kay?” Eren pants, hissing when you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. “Still gotta fuck you, feel you cum on me.”

You hum your approval, popping him fully into your mouth with a satisfied moan. You’ve always loved taking him in your mouth, the comforting weight of him on your tongue. You’re getting impossibly wetter, feeling the heat gather between your legs as you bob your head up and down on him, listening to his satisfied little grunts and groans above you.

Eren rubs a hand over your cheek, mutters his approval, thrusts his hips forwards unwittingly a few times. You gag when he does, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’ve taken him like this so many times, even with his impressive size, you love the feel of him pressing back into your throat until you choke.

“Fuck, fuck, baby it’s– it’s too much,” Eren indulges in a few more thrusts into your throat before grabbing your hair and urging you off of him, “need your pussy, okay?”

You’re not going to argue with that, letting him pull you to your feet, an anticipatory smile cracking across your face. You’re drunk on the wine and sex and him, babbling nonsensically. “Wanna feel you, Eren, need you.”

“I’ve got you, gonna make you feel so good, princess.” Impressively, Eren scoops you off of the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He walks you both over to the wall, pressing you up against it. “Gonna make you mine all over again, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a loaded question, but you’re so captivated by him, all you can do is murmur your agreement, tell him you want to be his because at least for now, you do. Eren’s magnetic, the man you run from so you don’t get lost in him, but tonight, you’re willing to drown. You’re begging for it.

The stone wall is rough against your bare back, but the head of Eren’s cock rubbing through your folds distracts you, a promise of what’s to come.

“Please, please put it in, Eren, I need–”

“My girl needs to be full, doesn’t she?” Eren’s smirking at you, slipping the tip of his cock in. Even the stretch of that alone is enough to make you moan, digging your nails into his back. “There you go, gonna fill you up, make you all better.”

You nod into his shoulder, the weight of your actions catching up to you as he presses himself into you, fills you entirely. Eren’s your kryptonite, he’s a drug, he’s an overwhelming presence, you can’t think straight around him. Before coming to this wedding, you told yourself you’d stay away, but you can’t help it. Everything about him is like he’s sculpted just for you, your body yields to him so easily you think you might be made just for him too. His skin, salty and sweaty from the summer air, is delicious under your tongue.

He’s moving now, fucking up into you desperately, like he loves you and like he wants to break you. You jolt in his arms, helpless to do anything but take and take and take everything he has to give you.

He smiles against your open mouth, placing a sloppy kiss over it. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels so fucking good,” you whimper, letting him manhandle you. Eren’s always rough with you, always riding the line of too much, and you love taking it. You love letting him push you to your limits.

“Missed my cock in you, didn’t you? This cunt was made for me,” Eren huffs, “made just for me. Mine, isn’t it?”

You don’t indulge him with an answer, loathe to admit that your cunt is made for him, but you feel yourself clench down around him, more of your wetness soaking his lower stomach. Eren chokes out some mix of a moan and a breathless laugh, fucking up into you harder. “What a perfect answer, baby. You love it, I know you do.”

“I love it,” you agree, simpering against him as your willpower fizzles out to nothing. You’re reluctant to believe it, but there’s another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Your body responds to him in a way it responds to no one else, clinging to him and growing wet for him and tightening around him.

Eren’s digging his hands into your hips, moving you up and down on his cock more so than actually thrusting. He’s panting against your ear, hot and heavy and in tune with your own gasps. He nudges his mouth down to plant sloppy kisses around your shoulder, just at the crook of your neck in the sensitive spot that he knows you love, remembers even after all these years. 

“Been too fucking long, baby,” Eren says, “gonna cum soon.”

You nod into his neck, cunt tightening around him at the prospect of his cum inside you. Just the thought of it sends your mind into orbit; a little fantasy forms in your hazy head of him fucking you like this every night, like he used to, a child with your curls and deep, green eyes-

“Gonna let me cum in this perfect cunt, aren’t you?”

As usual, Eren’s right in line with you– the synchronicity makes you moan again. “Please, please–”

“Gotta cum with me, alright? You can do that for me, can’t you?” You can, you will, but you’re so close to the edge when you try to respond your words are jumbled together. Even so close to his own release, Eren snickers at you. “My sweet girl’s all fucked out, can’t even talk.”

“Need your cum,” you manage, “please, Eren, m’close.”

Years ago, through strenuous games of overstimulation and denial, Eren trained your body to wait for him, you can’t cum unless he does and you know it. Your only option is to beg, hot shame warming your face. Eren remembers, just like you do, it makes him grin, feral and dangerous in the early evening light.

“Need my cum, baby? Needy, so needy, so beautiful,” he’s starting to slur, you know he’ll finish soon, “gonna cum in this perfect cunt of yours, never let you keep it from me again. Maybe I’ll knock you up, hm? Can’t run from me with my baby in you.”

Your watery eyes fly open at that, the logical part of your brain long-quieted, and you moan loud for him again, just the way he likes. Eren’s thrusts have grown sloppy, he’s grabbing you so hard now you know you’ll be left with Eren-shaped bruises on your hips.

Eren finally cums in you with your name on his lips, long and deep, keeping his cock fully seated inside you. It triggers your orgasm, a toe-curling wave of pleasure coursing through your body, straining your sore muscles. Eren’s mouth is pressed against yours and all you can manage is a whimper, feeling his cum warm your pussy, leak out around from where you’re both still joined together.

All the energy’s been pulled from your body now; you slump against his shoulder and whine when he slides out of you. Eren places you gently on the floor, presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before leading you upstairs on shaking legs. It smells like Eren up here, the pricey cologne he favors and the scent of well-loved sweatshirts intoxicating you. There are no words between the two of you as he leads you to the bathroom, helping you sit on the toilet seat as Eren rummages around for a washcloth to clean you.

“We need to go back to the reception,” you say weakly, wincing as Eren rubs the cloth over your cunt.

“What do you think?”

You frown, confused. “About?”

“Us, again,” he’s avoiding your eyes, focusing on his work between your legs. You’re not surprised he waited until you were disarmed to ask, brain still muddled and dizzy.

“Eren–”

“I am different now,” he finally meets your eyes, gaze alight with the burning, too-hot-to-touch love you know so well, the only love Eren knows how to offer, “got a therapist like you were always asking me to. I meditate every day. I’ll be so good to you, you know how good I am.”

He is good to you, you remember it well, your own tendency to flee was what broke you up in the first place. You’d left his heart shattered on the sidewalk of your apartment back in New York City, overwhelmed with commitment and unwilling to give his flaws the same grace he gave yours. You’re opposites: he’s hot where you’re cool, angry where you’re distant, argumentative where you’re cold. You sigh, head feeling heavy on your shoulders.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me? What about the lives we have now?”

“We’d make it work, line our schedules up together” the corner of his mouth curls, you want to kiss him again, “we’re always able to figure something out.”

You hate yourself for it, you want to run from him, get a car to the airport right now. You also want to pull him into your arms, feel his heartbeat against yours, kiss that hesitant smile on his face and never stop. “I…can I sleep on it?”

Eren’s face lights up, a kid on Christmas morning. He’s always been so expressive in these quiet moments; unreadable in a crowded room, but when it’s just you and him, his heart’s always been on his sleeve. He can’t help it. “Yeah, just sleep on it.”

You get yourself as put-together as you can, wipe the mascara from under your eyes, slip the dress back over your shoulders and concede one more kiss to Eren. It’s slow, long and languid, tongues slipping over one another, the desperation now cooled into a sense of homecoming. 

You hold hands as you climb the hill back to the reception. Your knees wobble, and it makes Eren laugh, makes you blush. He’s still going on about the villa’s history, and you’re half-listening, admiring the stars above you both. The reception is still going on, albeit a bit more subdued than earlier. Some guests have trickled out, finding their beds, but your friends are still seated around a table, drunk and laughing.

Connie’s the worst, of course, leaning on Jean and regaling everyone with a tale about their Midwestern childhood together; Mikasa’s buried under Clara, who’s sleeping soundly in her lap; Ymir and Historia are alternating between listening and kissing one another; Sasha’s struggling with a corkscrew and a tricky wine bottle, Armin attempting to help her.

Your face warms as all eyes turn to you, rumpled and suspicious and late. Mikasa raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her face.

“Where have you two been? You missed the garter toss,” Ymir nudges Historia conspiratorially.

“Just touring the grounds,” Eren answers coolly, pulling the empty chair beside Mikasa and offering it to you. You sit, grateful to be off of your shaking legs.

“It’s so beautiful here, thanks for putting us all up…” you accept the glass of wine Armin is offering over your shoulder, tipping it in the happy couples’ direction. Historia murmurs a quiet ‘you’re welcome’, the entire table exchanging knowing glances. You scowl, being left out of a joke is one of your pet peeves. “What?”

Jean grins lewdly. “Nothing, just…I don’t think Eren’s room is as far from the main house as you two think it is.”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [6]

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: You need to get some answers.

A/N: Ahh, we have reached the end! A massive thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this series! <3

Warnings: Cecil crying (a lot), talk of pregnancy, anxiety, there's a happy ending, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1319

I Know This Would Be... The Shake Rattle And Roll

Your first instinct is to leave. Just go. Walk out and drive home and delete his number and never talk to him again. 

But then his panicked face and pleading eyes echoed in your mind, reverberating to the point of madness. 

Just go. Walk out and drive home and delete his number and ignore him for a few days.

But that seemed cruel too. 

You’d only just been doing whatever the hell you and Cecil had been doing recently. Neither of you had talked about what you actually were and besides, it definitely seemed like Danielle and him were no longer seeing each other, or sleeping together. Or…

You needed to know. At the very least, you owed yourself answers.

So, instead, you moped around the house a little, picking halfheartedly at the pancakes Cecil had been making, the ones he’d finished now cold. 

In the rush he’d left his phone upstairs, so it wasn’t as if you could message him about when he’d be back. 

You didn’t know when Harry would return either. Part of you toys with the idea of leaving a note or message for him to contact you when he gets back, just so you could go home and sidestep any possible awkward conversations. 

Just as you are considering what to write, the front door slams open with the kind of force that should have, but luckily didn’t, rip it off its hinges. 

Cecil bursts inside, wide eyed, sweaty, and panicked. He looks delirious, like he’s run twenty miles in the desert with no water. 

He almost doesn’t notice you sitting at the kitchen table as he falls inside, but he manages to stop his body from running up the stairs and grabbing his phone when he sees you. 

Your name falls out of his lips nervously, a whispered mumble that breaks a little at the end. His eyes teary. 

He takes a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides as he goes to reach out for you, but he stops himself. 

“She’s not pregnant.”

You don’t get a chance to answer as all his words come out in a rush of sound. 

“She’s not pregnant, I promise, look I even got the doctor to give me proof.” He pulls out a folded piece of paper from his jeans. “It’s got her signature and the doctor’s contact info, you can check it all online too, make sure it’s real. She said you can call her to confirm that Danielle’s not pregnant, I explained to her, to the Doctor, she was really nice, she said she’d talk to you and-”

“Cecil,” you say softly as you stand and take his shaking hands in yours. “It’s okay.”

“Danielle– we slept together a few times about two months ago, but I always used a condom, always, and they didn’t break. And then we stopped hanging out because she’s…”

You wait, giving him space to finish as you stroke his hand.

“She’s kind of mean, and then we don’t talk, she blocks me and suddenly a few weeks ago she messages me saying she’s pregnant and I’m the Dad and I need to send her all this money.” He looks up at you hopefully. “I, I don’t have that kind of money… She wanted me to go to the first doctor’s appointment and, I think she really did think she was pregnant, but she wasn’t. And, and she told me the date, it was next week. For sure. I remember, I have the message, I can show you. It wasn’t today. Otherwise… otherwise…”

“It’s okay.” You give him a reassuring smile and take the doctor’s letter out of his hands and place it on the table. 

“You hate me…” His voice completely breaks at the end, his face crumpling as the dam bursts and tears start to flow. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” you wrap your arms around him quickly, holding him close and squeezing him tight. You rub his back as he weeps into you, burying his face into your neck. “How could I hate you, hmm?” You kiss his temple and he cries harder. 

“You hate my kisses that much? They make you cry?” You tease lightly, trying to cheer him.

He shakes his head rapidly, still sobbing, but trying to stop. “I love them.” He insists through tears. 

“Yeah?” You kiss his temple again, and then his cheek.

“Yeah, yes, I love them so much, I love you.” He blurts out and then sobs harder in the beat of silence that follows. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Shhh,” you lean back so you can hold his face in both of your hands and look into his eyes. “Why are you sorry, sweet thing?” 

“I, I, I,” he hiccups and swallows trying to force his tears down. “I thought you’d be gone and never speak to me again, and I ran all the way here back from the doctor’s because I didn’t want to be in the car with her for a second longer, and you hate me and now I said I love you and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and kiss his lips lightly. His breathing hitches. 

“Cecil,” you say softly, “take a seat and I’ll get you some water.” 

He shakes his head, “Can I hold your hand while you get water?” 

You smile, your chest heavy and you nod. 

He holds your bicep, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as you fill a glass. He sits when you guide him to the table and takes the water when you offer it. He drinks quickly, trying to swallow as much as possible to please you. 

“Hey, don’t choke.” You say gently, taking the glass out of his hands - half full - and sit down next to him. 

He looks at you sadly from under his wet lashes, little shudders of his cries echoing on his body. “I get it… if you don’t want to ever see me again.” 

“Cecil,” You stroke his hair and he presses his head to your hand, closing his eyes. “It’s okay. I promise.” 

His eyes snap open as he looks at you, confusion and shock plastered all over his face. “You…?”

“Me…?” You tease a little. 

“You don’t hate… you want to…?” 

“I want you dummy,” you smile and kiss him again gently, a soft brush of your lips to his.

He moves after you quickly, deepening in kiss and moaning softly. The moment he pulls back he’s crying again. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he waves his hand and wipes at his eyes, “happy tears, happy tears.”

“You’re so sweet.” You give his hand a little squeeze. 

He shakes his head. “I’m a piece of shit. I should have told you… I just didn’t…” He sighs, “I didn’t want to put you off. You’re already so kind and hot and put together, and I’m just-”

“Shh.” You grin and he smiles back. “Besides, we’re not… we never talked about being… you know. We never set any boundaries.” 

He nods. “I’d like to… be like… going steady.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the sincere way he says it, the honesty in his tone just causes joy to bubble in your chest. 

His smile widens as you laugh. “Is that a yes?” 

You nod. “Yes.” 

He grins wildly and kisses all over your face repeatedly until you're laughing so hard you almost can’t breathe. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles as he moves back. 

“Stop saying sorry.” 

“Sorry.” 

You snort and then pause. “Would you still like to come over to mine?” 

His eyes widen a little, glittering in the light. “Three day food and fuck weekend?” 

You let out a bark of laughter and nod. “Three day food and fuck weekend.” 

He kisses you again, sweetly this time. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispers against your lips.

“That’s okay. I don’t deserve you either.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[pasc4lfuzz]

me vuelves loco

pairing: javier peña x f!reader a/n: i've tried writing before, but every time i've tried and even posted, i've deleted it after less than a week because i didn't like what i'd written. I don't know if I'll regret this one-shot after a while and end up deleting it, but I hope you like it. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!! summary: During the DEA New Year's party in colombia javi can't take his eyes off you. rating: MATURE! MDNI warnings: flirting, heavy make out, alcohool, remembering sex (i think this would be the right term lol) word count: 3.5k dividers by @/saradika-graphics

December 31st and you and the DEA still haven't caught Pablo Escobar, and so goes another year of hard work, always getting close to the goal but never quite finishing. As always, on New Year's Eve, the DEA throws a party for its employees. Last year you didn't feel like going, you preferred to stay at home, you, a bottle of wine, a plate of pasta alfredo and the TV on. 

You were immersed in your own thoughts for a long time as you sipped your wine, reminiscing about everything you did last year, especially your mistakes, how many times you and your partners were close to catching the head of the cartel and something went wrong, taking you back to the beginning. But that didn't even come close to occupying your mind during the night, definitely not, in your head there was only Javier Peña, that man with the broad shoulders and slutty waist, the way his thight jeans hugged his legs and ass, the cheesy grin he did when he hears the sound of your heels through the office. But surely one of your biggest mistakes - or the one you try to convince yourself was a mistake - was having sex with Javier. You didn't want to be another notch on his belt, but (un)fortunately you ended up giving in, but how could you not? 

That night you were going over some files with Javi in his apartment, glasses of whiskey on the coffee table, some papers lying on the sofa and on the floor, Javis eyes every few minutes on you, admiring you, flirting with you until you couldn't stand it. Suddenly you remember Javier's lips where in yours kissing you hungrily, his tongue searching for yours while their hands stroked from your waist to your ass and their hands tugged at your hair. You remember everything down to the smallest detail, the way he kissed your whole body, the feeling of his tongue flicking your clit, he tasting your pussy like a starving man. The weight of his body on top of yours and how your inner walls hugged his cock in every thrust, his groans and whispers praising you were echoing in your mind, and you realize, you've got it bad for Javier Fucking Peña.

So this year you've decided to go to the party, maybe you'll meet someone important there, get more contacts to help with Escobar's case. Work, work, work, that's all there was to your life lately, stressing you to the limit many times, you saw things and situations you'd never forget, but in the end you told yourself the same thing, in the end I'll have helped a lot of people, and that's all you wanted. As well as thinking that going to the party will help you at work, a week earlier Connie Murphy was at your apartment, your partner Steve's wife met you by chance in the building that the DEA had made available to the agents when you were coming home from work with Steve and Javi, and since then you've become friends. 1 week ago, the night Connie came to your apartment to have dinner and talk, she mentioned the party and said she was going with Steve and asked you if you were going.

"I don't know Con, I was thinking of going but... it's not really my scene" You say sighing and throwing your head back on the sofa, wiping your hands across your face "Maybe there I'll be able to talk more to some people from the Embassy and-" You're interrupted by Connie waving her hands and starting to talk.

"No, no, no, that's enough work talk and work thinking" Connie puts her hand on his shoulder, making him look at her "You work too much, you put all your time and effort into the DEA, I understand that it's supposed to end all this madness once and for all, but I think it's best if you give it a rest, you know." 

Her gaze gradually calms you down, your shoulders relax and your posture is no longer rigid from all the stress you've been going through lately.

"Think of this party as an escape from your problems, there won't be any narcs there for you to worry about, and I'll be there too," Connie says winking in your direction, eliciting a huffy laugh that shakes your head.

"Yeah, I'll go, at least I don't have to drink my own wine" You shrug letting out a sly smile.

The atmosphere in the main hall where most people were meeting is buzzing with energy and excitement. The vast space is adorned with shimmering decorations, exuding a bit sense of luxury, besides this was a DEA party, some colombian politicians were there making presence. Soft, warm lights bathe the room in a flattering glow, casting a sophisticated aura over the gathering. Lively conversations fill the air, complemented by the soft tones of a electric guitar, bass and a woman singing beautifully playing in the background. You're wearing a pearly white satin dress that goes all the way down to your heels, your make-up is simple but your lips are a deep red.

You pass some of your coworkers doing a fast small talk in pursuit of your goal of getting to the bar counter. There are at least 3 people in charge of making the drinks and preparing the drinks that are ordered, you give a friendly smile to the man who approaches you on the other side of the counter asking if you would like anything. You quickly look at the drinks menu and order a Cosmopolitan. 

This isn't one of the best scenarios you could imagine yourself in, you barely enjoy going out for a happy hour after long hours at work, let alone a New Year's Eve party with almost everyone you've worked with. You blame Connie, who, by the way, you haven't seen until now, while your eyes slowly wander around the room watching the others chatting and smiling. One of your favorite pastimes is:

observing.

Many times have you found yourself late at night when you couldn't sleep at your window, feeling the soft caress of a refreshing breeze that carries a subtle hint of the surrounding nature. The gentle touch of the air eases the sticky, humid air that normally hangs heavily in the Colombian nights, providing a respite from the tropical heat that characterizes this part of the world. Colombia wasn't a city that never sleeps like New York or a night city like Los Angeles, but there was a bit of movement at night, and you love watching people pass by and guessing where they're going, who they're meeting or how their day went. And now it's no different.

You're immersed in your thoughts, your attention going from person to person analyzing their features and posture, some with fake smiles just to please the rest around them, others very excited about the turn of the year with a fresh start, and a good number of the people you work with exhausted, just wanting this drug war to end.

Your trance is interrupted when you hear a familiar voice in your ear.

You knew that voice very well.

A voice that sends your heart racing and your spine tingling with anticipation.

It's Javier, his voice velvety, sultry, and more than enough to send shivers down your spine, awakening a deep sense of longing that you find both thrilling.

“Hermosa, I didn't expect to see you here” 

You turn your head to the right and see Javier Penan, leaning slightly with his right arm on the counter, with that smirk in his face that drives you crazy- NO!

You hate it.

“Peña.” You give him a slight nod and pick up your Cosmopolitan, which should have been sitting there for at least two minutes while you paid attention to your surroundings. 

You feel Javier's gaze travel slowly from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, as if he were taking in every aspect of you. His eyes travel with an almost tangible intensity, like a physical caress on your features. You can practically feel the way his gaze follows the outline of your hair, pauses to appreciate the shape of your face and then moves down, lingering on the curves and lines of your body. The way he looks at you is almost hypnotic, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You look stunning,” he says, and you feel your heart skip a beat as his eyes meet yours once again. Those warm, brown puppy dog eyes that you had thought could see right through your soul.

You feel exposed, laid bare under his gaze, like a book open for inspection. There's a spark of mischief in his eyes, as though he's enjoying the effect he's having on you, and he leans in a bit closer, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You don't look so bad yourself,” I reply, quickly looking him up and down. The suit he's wearing hugs his body perfectly, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, and making it hard not to appreciate the way it shows off his physique. I can see the strength in his frame, the way his shoulders bunch up as he rolls them back, and the way the fabric stretches over the muscles of his arms. My eyes dart back up to his face, where his mouth curves into a small, wry smile, the look in his eyes almost smug.

“Like what you see?” Javier winks at you and you take a big sip of your drink, breaking eye contact.

“you wish” I roll my eyes placing the drink down ”have you seen Connie?”

“Hm yeah she’s actually with Steve talking with Noonan” He points to his partner and his wife talking with the ambassador.

“Excuse me Peña.” You say walking away from him, you can feel his eyes glued in your ass, watching the way your hips sway as you walk through the room.

As the night wore on,you were engaged in a conversation with Connie and started to question your decision to listen to her.

"Connie, I think I'm leaving now," you said, finishing the last sip of your drink as your eyes scanned the room.

She gasped, clearly not believing what you were saying. "No, no, no! We discussed this already. If you leave, you'll be all alone on New Year's," she exclaimed.

You nodded, replying, "That's exactly what I had planned, just like last year."

“No, come on stay for me, soon Steve is gonna start getting sleepy and i would get bored” Connie waits for your response.

You close your eyes taking a deep breath before answering a simple “Fine” and Connie smiles at you.

“I’ll get you another Cosmopolitan” Connie leaves towards the bar to get you the drink she promised.

As you patiently wait for your friend and your drink, you couldn't help but take another look around the room. This time, you noticed something you hadn't before - a nearly closed door. Intrigued, you couldn't resist exploring further, walking towards the door and gently pushing it open.

Behind the door, you found yourself in a cozy little library, filled with books and the faint scent of old paper. As you walked along the shelves, your eyes scanned over various titles until something caught your attention - your favorite book.

There it was, standing out among the others, and your heart skipped a beat out of excitement. You eagerly pulled it out from the shelf and held it in your hands, feeling a sense of comfort and nostalgia wash over you.

“That’s a good one.” A voice behind you echoes through your mind, of course it's Javier.

You turn around looking at him trying to hide your emotions from the guy that little by little was stealing your heart, and that scared you. You shouldn't feel that way about him, you know very well that Javier Peña doesn't do relationships.

“Didn’t know you read.” You say sarcastically putting the book back in its place.

“Oh please, I know I'm not the most intelligent man but sometimes I read.” He says while slowly walking towards you, it’s like your body is calling him.

"Anyways, it's a classic, of course it's good," you say with a hint of excitement. Without realizing it, you start to passionately ramble about the book, your words flowing effortlessly as you speak.

"I mean, just the way the author captures the essence of the characters' development throughout the story, the way the plot unfolds, the way the conflict is resolved - it's all so brilliantly done. And don't even get me started on the writing style!" As you finally finish your passionate ramble about the book, you suddenly notice Javier's gaze fixed on you, almost as if it was burning through your skin.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, taking a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I…” You can’t trust your own words at this point, afraid you’ll say something that will fell wrong.

A shiver ran down your spine as Javier spoke in a low, sultry tone, his words sending a warm sensation coursing through your body.

"I don't think you realize this," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "but you literally become ten times sexier when you talk about books."

“Stop right there Peña” You put your index finger in his chest “I know where you tryna get from this, and im not ending up in your bed” 

“Hermosa” Your heart skipped a beat as Javier pulled you closer, your bodies now touching, his whiskey breath hot against your face. "Believe me," he murmured, his voice dropping to an even huskier tone, "I'm not just trying to get you in my bed. You might not believe this, but I really like you."

A wave of heat washed over you as you looked up into his eyes, wondering if there was more to  his words than just a line. And he was right, you didn’t believe him at all.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You murmur

Javier's gaze deepened as he looked into your eyes, his voice still carrying that sultry undertone. "I like the way you prefer tea over coffee," he began, the words coming out slowly and intentionally, "and how you always drink your jasmine tea in our office. The smell of it wafts through the room, constantly reminding me of you. And your laughter, it sounds like a 5-year-old's - innocent and carefree. But it brings a smile to my face every single time I hear it."

As you giggled and shyly looked away listening to him list the things he liked in you, Javier's smirk widened, his fingers gently catching your chin and turning your face back to him.

"Yes, that's the laugh," he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice, "the one I was talking about. It's infectious, you know."

Your eyes get lost in his, it’s almost like you can see and learn everything about him just by looking at his brown chocolate eyes. Javier's lips left a trail of gentle pecks on your cheeks, while his words echoed in your ears, sending a surge of heat through your body.

"I like it when you let your hair down," he murmured, "but I also like it when you tie it. I like it when you speak in Spanish," another kiss on your other cheek, "and most of all, I love the way you talk about the things you love."

As his lips hovered millimeters away from yours, leaving you yearning for more, you couldn't resist any longer.

The moment your lips met, an explosion of sensation took over. It was a hungry and passionate kiss, filled with months of built up tension and desire. Your grip on Javier's neck tightened as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressing against each other. His hands found their way to your hips, holding you tight as the kiss deepened. Tongues danced in a greedy, desperate dance, exploring each other's mouths as if trying to devour one another.

It was like an explosion of feelings all together, you felt like your heart could jump out of your chest at any minute. 

Sure you’ve already shared a few kisses with him, but it was always with a second intention, just like that one night you never forget. But this is different, the kiss was slow and deliberate, every movement filled with emotion and desire. Your lips moved in tandem with each other, exploring every inch of the other's mouth. A soft moan escaped your lips as Javier's tongue traced along your lower lip, seeking entrance. You granted it willingly, allowing him to plunge deeper into the recesses of your mouth. The kiss was hungry, but it was also tender, a perfect blend of love and excitement.

You feel your back against one of the bookcases as Javier kisses you more and more. Your hands pull his hair and massage his broad shoulders.

As you pulled your head back, gasping for air, Javier instinctively tried to chase your lips, unwilling to break the connection. He opened his eyes and couldn't help but let out a low growl at the sight of you biting your bottom lip, your eyes still closed in the aftermath of the passionate kiss.

As you opened your eyes and caught sight of his smile, something in your heart flipped, and you knew you were in too deep. "I believe you," you whispered, holding his face gently in your hands, your thumbs gently caressing his jaw.

"But if you really want this," you continued, your voice firm yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "you have to try not to mess things up. I'm willing to give you a chance, but I need you to promise me you'll be careful with my heart."

Javier's smile widened even further as you spoke, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and affection. He leaned into your touch, savoring the feel of your thumbs caressing his jaw, and he nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry, hermosa," he murmured, his voice softer and more genuine than you had ever heard it before. "I won't mess this up, I promise. I'm all in."

Without missing a beat, your lips crashed into each other once more, the passion and intensity of the moment taking over. The world around you faded away as you both become lost in the kiss, the hunger for each other growing stronger with each passing second.

As the kiss deepened, you found yourself pressed up against the shelf, Javier's body pinning you against it as his hands roamed over your body, touching every inch of exposed skin. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, hungry kisses along the sensitive flesh. Your bodies instinctively moved closer, creating a delicious friction that sent waves of desire coursing through you. The kiss grew more intense, full of passion and need, as your hands became tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

As your fingers tangled in his hair and he continued to kiss and bite at your neck, an unexpected moan escaped your lips. You tried to bite your lip to hold it back, but the sensation of his lips against your skin was too overwhelming to contain. This only fueled Javier's desire, and he let out a low growl in response, one hand on your hips and the other one on you inner thigh pulling your right leg up to his waist.

A shiver ran down your spine as Javier's breath tickled your ear, his hot whispered words sending a thrill of pleasure through your body. "I forgot one thing," he murmured, his teeth gently biting down on your sensitive earlobe. "I love when you moan for me."

His body was still pressed against you, pinning you to the wall, and you could feel the effect your moan had on him, the tension and desire in the air palpable.

Just as Javier's lips were about to descend onto yours once more, the sound of an unwelcome voice called your name, breaking the spell. You both froze as the door handle turned, the wood moving just a fraction before it swung open.

Connie stood in the doorway, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the scene before her.

"What are you doing - oh my god," she gasped, quickly shutting the door again.

Javier takes a few steps back running his hand through his hair as you smoothed your dress. “Connie?” you ask behind the door and open it seeing her holding your drink. “I… I took a little longer to grab your drink and then i was gonna hand it to you but you weren’t there anymore so i looked for you and-” She spoke nervously trying to process the moment she had just seen. “Ok hm thanks for it by the way” you grab the drink from her hands taking a sip before looking quickly at Javier.

“It’s almost midnight by the way” Connie says leaving the library.

You felt a pair of warm, strong hands gently gripping your waist from behind. Javier's hot breath sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in close, his lips ghosting over the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Come on, I want another reason to kiss you," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

[generalkenobee]

A/N: ok so I know this probably won't get many likes or anything but I literally love Chase sm so I need to write this just for my well being because I've loved him since I was like ten, hope you enjoy 💖🩷

Warnings: sfw and nsfw headcannons, aged up!!!, FEM reader (kinda)

SFW headcannons

•hand holding is such a must with him

•he gives the best hugs, especially when he's in his black sweatpants and sleep sweater because everything is just so warm and gentle

•hes insanely touch starved

•Chase has never had a partner before you so you have to be patient with him, for example

-(Y/N), I don't know why you asked me for help with your homework, it was super easy

He would say laughing, not realizing that he hurt your feelings because you genuinely needed help

-(Y/N), I can't hold your hand right now I'm clearly working on this

Chase would say annoyed while still looking at the screen of his computer

•after a while and some help from you he's learned that a relationship takes time and consideration

•my man lovessss your stomach, no matter the size or if you have cellulite, stretch marks, he loves it so much

•loves to kiss you everywhere, especially because the whole touch starved thing. Chase is always placing a quick kiss to your cheek while he walks by you, first thing he does in the morning and before he goes to bed is kiss you

•physically can't sleep if you're not in the bed next to him

•nicknames he calls you

-sweetheart

-baby

-honey

•whenever he writes your name he always puts a little heart next to it

•usually falls asleep with his head resting on your chest with steady breathing

•loves to have you run your fingers through his hair while he falls asleep and scratch his scalp

•loves when you kiss all his moles and freckles, just basic beauty marks because it shows that you love every part of him

•he gets incredibly jealous of everyone. He's not used to people picking him and genuinely wanting to be with him over Adam for example

•always has mints, gum, or breath, spray on hand

•he takes extra precautions before seeing you (brushing his hair four times, showing twice, brushing his teeth over and over again, making sure hes wearing an outfit he'll know you'll like)

•soooo good with kids

NSFW headcannons

•lovessss when you pull his hair

•so loud, like soooo insanely loud. Moans, groans, and when he gets close whimpers

•he loves when you cockwarm him while he plays video games or when he's working on something

•eye contact while he trusts up into you, it's almost like his way of thanking you for being so vulnerable with him

•things chase says during sex

-s-shit..you feel so warm..s-so welcoming baby..

-this all for me?

-thank you thank you thank you..

-I love you so much...

-its so deep..I-I can feel all of you...

•chase tries not to ever cuss, he thinks there's smarter words to use..but when he's close it's like a whole new person

-f-fuck..fucking shit baby I'm oh my god I'm gonna, aungh..

•this one time you let spike fuck you and chase got upset because he didn't remember any of it, and he also felt jealous for some reason?

•sometimes when you walk by, you'll slap him on the ass through his jeans and he jumps up in fear every time

•lightly grazes his teeth over your neck during sex and you can feel his hot breath against your pulse..

•I feel like he really wants to cum on your face but is way to scared to ask

I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO SAY ABOUT HIM SO IF YOU HAVE A REQUEST PLEASE SEND IT IN:)))

[slippinninque]

Hi👋🏽 This is my first time ever putting in a fic request. I’m not sure if you take requests and I didn’t see anything on your blog so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering what Fontaine would do if he saw his girl working so hard to balance school and work that she wasn’t taking care of herself like she should or not spending as much time with him?

💆🏾‍♀️TLC

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: none, some cursing, mainly fluff. Mentions of feeling overworked and overwhelmed, before-work-post (may have some mistakes lol)

"It was tonight, wasn't it?"

You were standing in the middle of the living room, in the middle of wakefulness and the fugue that has been stubbornly following you for the past three weeks.

He saw you stare out into space as you tried to regain your thoughts. Fontaine froze when you turned wet eyes to him, the rest of your face fixed into flat mask.

Still wearing your hoodie and jeans, your cheek held the imprint of one of your text books. He normally would protest you bringing books to bed but with how thin you were already stretched so thin...

"I missed date night," your voice cracked and your hands came up to your face, "We would have been back by now...I...I really missed it...."

Fontaine was up brought you close and closed his eyes against the feel of your trembling. He gently pried your hands away from your face, seeing how your fingers began to curl into claws nearer your hair.

Fontaine hugged you tight, "Hey, hey, you're good."

Your wide eyes met his but Fontaine knew you were only seeing your thoughts plastered across his face. All the things that demanded your attention, the projects and papers and team meetings and recruiting.

He said nothing as he brought your head to his shoulder. Fontaine didn't want think too much about how you sagged against him. You felt, like a rag doll with weighted feet.

"It wasn't you, baby. You've had a lot on your plate, I didn't feel right waking you up." He admitted, "I thought maybe we could have date night at the crib this time. "

You made a quiet, hurt noise and nuzzled closer, "I'm so sorry..."

"Ah, ain't nothing be sorry fo'. I already ordered some grub, it's gonna be dinner in bed tonight. A'ight?"

"I'm sorry...."

Fontaine hushed you and wished he had more to say. Wish he could erase the nerves he could feel prickling along your skin. There was nothing he could say to you. Not right now, at least.

"The only thing I want you to be is getting in that tub for me." He cupped your face, "Bath is already made. Then we'll take it from there, okay?"

"No, that's too much." You tried to shake him off but Fontaine kept hold, "Date night is supposed to be special for the both of us--

Fontaine spoke over you just a bit, "Hush! You want--"

"Don't you hush me--!"

"-- You wanna to make it up to me?"

You nodded at once. Fontaine nodded back before he stepped back and took your hands in his. He took in the worried bend of your brow, the way you chewed and picked at at the healing spots on your bottom lip.

"I've been waiting on your ass to crash for 'bout two weeks now--ain't plotting on your downfall...just worried."

Fontaine's tone robbed you of your fight. You nodded and sniffled, the knot in your throat loosening. He was right. You couldn't keep going on like this, you were only going to get sloppier.

"Okay, good, c'mon and let me get my hands on you a little bit and you can curse at me later for hushing. Yeah?"

Fontaine tugged gently and you went after him feeling like the worse girlfriend in the world.

-----

When you finally felt like you could stand being in your skin. You washed yourself and did so again, mind humming on low as the water steamed and soothed you. There were mountains of bubbles and you could smell the lavender scented candle from its perch in the dreamy fog of the bathroom.

It was strange to feel so wrung out so soon. With the holiday season swiftly approaching, you were tied on both ends. Midterms papers and collaborations clashing with the growing seasonal demand at your Granny's catering business.

While you weren't charge of the magic of making the food you made sure the 'magicians' had their wands and their doves. Grocery orders, appliance repairs, and even down to scheduling for tastings and deliveries.

You made sure that all the elders had to focus on was doing what they loved and being as much of a mediator between them and youngin's of the staff as you could.

It was a good thing to see your grandmother be so invigorated by the rush but she ran a tight ship that felt more like a sardine can lately with all the passive aggressive wars that often came with family businesses.

You cut that thought off before it could take root. That would always be there. Instead you turned your thoughts on the man who still managed to surprise you.

Fontaine waited up for you when you stayed behind for next-day prep. He met you at the front door with a blunt rolled and the shower steaming. He rubbed your aching feet as you pounded out a essay analysis.

Fontaine, bless his heart, has been nothing but supportive. Also rightfully worried, of you had to be honest.

How could you have forgotten the one night in the week that mattered most? That's what sent you over the edge at the end of it all. Not the 11:59 deadlines and collapsing cake towers--the fact you forgot about your man.

As of drawn by the sound of your spiraling thoughts, Fontaine knocked a little on the door before you saw his free forms peek in.

"I got you all set if you're ready, baby." He came in a bit further as if he hadn't already seen your all, "If you're ready, that is?"

The water sloshed as you rose instead of answering. Fontaine came fully into the bathroom with a towel stretched and waiting for you.

"Bring yo' lil self here."

The towel wrapped you up and you were delighted to feel it was fresh from the dryer. Fontaine hummed knowingly and rocked you a bit before pulling back to dry you off in earnest.

It felt silly at first, you wanted to grab the towel and insist that you had it but....it felt nice to be out of control for once.

You were then led to the bedroom instead of the living room. There you found your nest ready and waiting. There was no textbooks or notebooks to be found, or pens to be stuck by. Only one of Fontaine's hoodies and your well-loved sleeping shorts.

A single touch made you gasp in delight, Fontaine must have tossed everything into the dryer while you were soaking.

Once you were dressed, Fontaine patted your bottom and peeled the covers back. You dove between the covers and was immediately enveloped by lilac and fresh-linen scent.

"Stay put for me and let me go get some shit together, 'kay?"

" 'kay..."

Fontaine smiled at the sound of your crunchy, sniffly voice, "That's it. Find us something good to watch. Imma be back ."

He saw right through you. Though you knew he would be only a few paces away, somewhere in the house, it still felt too far at the moment. His reassurance that he'd come back had you melting into the blankets.

By the time you settled on Antique's Roadshow, Fontaine returns balancing two styrofoam containers, cups, and a 2 liter of your favorite Faygo.

The logo on the bag with the condiments let you know he ordered from the Mediterranean spot you've been hankering for. This man could have very well unlocked mind reading in hopes of getting you to take care....

You made room for him to settle beside you but Fontaine slid in and was nearly behind you. Emotion locked your throat as you watched Fontaine settle in.

"Thank you, Fontaine. For all of this."

Fontaine took the remote and lowered the volume when the nice lady from Vegas whooped about a found white gold watch.

"You're buried, right now. Gettin' pulled in all sorts of directions. I would have seen it by now had you not told me to be ready for it. That's something we've talked about happening when you started going back to school. What we also talked about is showing up. Remember that?"

It was one evening on the back porch days ago. You were frustrated with your progress with things. Of school, of family, of life. In feeling over overwhelmed by things to do, you strangely end up feel like you aren't doing much.

Fontaine looked into your wary eyes, "We've been making it work. We make time when we can. I let you sleep in because, baby, you needed it."

"You need me too. I need you...I have to be more-more mindful. You're what really matters to me. I should do more..."

Fontaine shook his head and took your hand again, looking at where you fingers laced quickly with his before putting them both against his chest.

"What you said to me when I asked? 'Showing up is doing something. Anything you can.' That goes both ways. Understand?"

You took in the earnest look on his face and couldn't resist kissing it. You probably tasted like stale gum but Fontaine surged forward all the same.

"Mhn, nope--no..." Fontaine pulled back and narrowed an eye at you, "Behave, missy. Food first--something that ain't no damn trail mix or whatever you be snacking on..."

Before you opened your tray, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you help me do something first?"

Fontaine was reaching over to pull one of your bonnets out of the nightstand as he answered, "Of course, baby. What do you need?"

"Moral support...."

Fontaine held you as you typed out an email to your professor and your cousin.

First asking for a two-day extension to polish and submit your paper. To your cousin, you apologized but insisted you needed the rest of the week off to get some rest and refocus yourself.

Though you doubted you would take the whole week, Fontaine correct to point out that a little wiggle room couldn't hurt just in case you did need it.

While you were going to have your phone on, all that they would need to get through the week would be ready for pick up and payment.

Before your stomach could sour after you hit send, your phone vibrated where it still was in your hand.

[Girl, fuck these oldies! Get some sleep and let them learn a lesson without you for once! 💜💕💞]

Your eyes welled as the pressure in your stomach eased away. Fontaine saw the way your shoulders sagged and took the hand still holding your phone, kissing the laxing knuckles.

"See? Handled that shit like a fuckin' boss." His other hand went behind your head, strong fingers massaging the base of your neck much to your pleasure.

You released an exhale as your eyes slipped close, unaware of the shadow of a smile on your face.

Fontaine shifted closer to get both hands on you, going for your temples and the knot of thoughts at the base of your skull as he murmured, "Mm. That's sexy as hell--do it again."

"Hm? What, breathe?"

Fontaine purred when you gave a more exaggerated puff of air and a laugh danced a laugh out of you. Between Fontaine's attention and the soft comforts surrounding you, it felt like you were going to be fine.

Fontaine's voice was at you ear, "That feel good? You like when I rub your big, pretty brain like this? Hm?"

Of course you did and of course he already knew. The tension in your neck was no match for the most dexterous fingers in all the Glenn.

"Hmm...dunno. I may need a few more minutes to decide for sure."

"You ain't got to tell me twice, let me get up in that kitchen..."

Luckily for you Fontaine didn't ease up at all. Careful of your dinner, he pulled until you were back to chest and set to work massaging your neck and temples.

All you could feel was his warmness, the give of your bed. All you could hear was the soft shift of styrofoam and an explanation of the popularity of faux gold in the 70's from the TV.

All you could think of, blissfully, was how much you wished you had the HP to jump 'Taine's bones...

Your stomach growled loudly and indignantly. Fontaine chuckled when you shushed it and brought his retreating hands back to your scalp.

"A little while longer and then I want to see you go through at least half that plate." Fontaine pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before popping your bonnet over your hair

"Then I'll rub you however much you'd like..."

With a little chirp of agreement, you flopped back against your man and let him do what he did best.

Take care of you.

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

💜ending notes💜: a long time coming and I'm so sorry anon, I hope you see this and know to please please please feel free to submit again! This ask saved me like no other🥹💞💜💕 thank you to those who were so kind during my burn out, slow and steady definitely wins the race lol! 🙏🏾✨💕

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being too close to my childhood best friend?

(This is so long I'm so sorry, there's just a fair bit of info.)

Me (22F) and Jake (23F) grew up together. Our mothers were friends for years and got pregnant around the same time, and we've basically been side by side our whole lives. We consider each other platonic soulmates and siblings.

Jake has had a girlfriend (Lucy, 23F) for the last seven months. I really like Lucy, she's so funny, so interesting, and she clearly makes Jake happy. There's been one or two awkward moments between us, but its never been anything that lingered or caused problems.

Now I know how people generally act/think about "the girl best friend" so when Jake said he was thinking of asking Lucy out, I made sure to back off a bit. Instead of having a brate (bro date, just hanging out doing something like bowling, Maccas, movie theatre, ect) once a week I said we should have one once a month, I don't call him just to hang on the phone together anymore, I make sure to not message at all on the days I know they have dates planned, ect.

I've really, really done my best to not get in the way, to make sure Lucy knows he really is just my brother, and I've tried to give them both space as someone who is not involved in their relationship.

I thought I was doing really well because its never really come up until this week. It was Jake and I's brate day and we decided to go to the mall so I could shop for clothes and he could get the slushies he likes there. Lucy knew where we'd be, and "happened" to show up, which was fine. Like I said, I like hanging out with her, and I actually thought it was cool I could get another girl's opinion on my outfit.

Jake decided to try on some clothes too while he was there and it turned into something of a mini fashion show of both of us showing off our possible choices. Lucy seemed to alternate between really having fun and going quiet. She refused to try on any herself but grinning and laughing while Jake and I were, and while we were taking turns playfully hyping each other up.

Jake tried on a pair of jeans and I was teasing him and said "damn dude, look at all that ass" trying to make him embarrassed. This was when Lucy muttered something I didn't quite hear, and politely suggested I should leave. Both Jake and I were really confused and taken aback and Lucy kind of shrugged and said things like this were things couples should do, and it was really inappropriate of me to make a sexual comment about her boyfriend while she was right there.

I didn't want to make a scene so I said I'd go, but Jake argued back and said it was clearly just joking around and he's sick of her getting upset at literally anything I do, or he does with me, which was surprising because it was the first I heard that she's had actual complaints.

We all wound up sitting down in the food court to talk and Lucy basically said that she's growing more and more uncomfortable with how close Jake and I are as her and Jake get closer, even though Jake and I's interactions have drastically dropped since they started dating. She thinks its weird we have friendship bracelets (our families went on a double vacation when we were 14 and me and Jake bought those cheap seaside shell bracelets in matching colors, that's literally it) and we hang out alone once a month (even though she's been invited multiple times and always refuses) and she thinks its even weirder than our families are so close and call us siblings.

I won't lie, it killed me inside, but I offered to back off entirely and only be around Jake in group settings, if at all, but Jake cut in and said that wasn't a compromise he was willing to make, and asked Lucy to talk more in private. They left together and trying to be respectful, I haven't reached out at all to either of them while they talk it through.

Jake's mom came over today to hang out with mine, and wound up telling me the last few days Jake has been stressed out, miserable, and isn't sure about staying with Lucy. She said it was a shame because Lucy seemed so nice, but she also said she was proud of him because I was family and Lucy's insecurity wasn't reasonable.

It made me feel sad and like I was hurting Jake by interfering with his relationship again, so I asked some of my online friends from a game I play and the opinion was kind of split. They all agreed I've never spoken about Jake in a way that hinted I liked him, but also that as girls, they'd feel weird anyway about knowing their boyfriend had this close bond with another girl, and they'd be wondering what the future would look like and if our friendship would get in the way of choices like moving, starting a family.

Now I feel completely lost and honestly a little scared of both losing Jake and apparently ruining his life by being so close to him. None of the rest of our IRL friend group has ever brought anything up about it, and I don't know if this is Lucy being jealous or if this is my fault.

What are these acronyms?

[hearteyes4hobi]

ADORE ME, HOLD ME AND EXPLORE ME ♡ (kmg)

juno- sabrina carpenter

"adore me, hold me and explore me mark your territory, i'm so fuckin' horny"

"cant help myself, hormones are high. Give me more than butterflies"

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

a/n: GUYS THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND FIRST TIME WRITING A ONE SHOT IN GENERAL IM SCREAMING I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOREVERRRR. i hope you don't hate this, but remember i am new to this!!! be nice plz...i am open to feedback and would love to hear what you think :) my asks are open for requests, comments, questions, or anything always. i listened to juno so much this happened and i am so sorry im ovul*ting

warnings: breeding kink, lots of cum, they fuck on a car sorry, all porn no plot, reader squirts, outside kinda, pure filth tbh, hints of future baby

wc: 982

When you first started dating your boyfriend Mingyu, you both agreed it would be a couple years before you would even think about having children. Being young and in love had its perks and you didn’t want to spoil it with a newborn just yet. It isn’t until you see Mingyu outside with the hood of your car open and a bag of tools on his waist that makes you consider dropping everything to have his children. The way his honey golden skin was damp and glistening in the sunlight had you completely thoughtless and drooling. You felt some sort of carnal desire flow through you that can only be blamed on your ovulation cycle and maybe Mingyu’s huge biceps.

“(y/n) can you come help with something really fast?” you hear Mingyu shout from outside and you drop everything to see what he may need. Walking towards the car, you see him smiling mischievously.

“How can I help the cute mechanic today?” you say to him teasingly. He looks heavenly, he has grease on his forehead and all over his clothes, but he’s never looked more attractive to you than at this moment. God damn hormones.

“I just wanted to see your face, plus I saw you staring at me and figured you’d love an up-close view better.” He replied smugly with a huge smile on his face.

“I can’t help myself okay, my hormones are high lately. Plus, my boyfriend is too goodlooking, what am I supposed to do?” you say as you hug him tightly, being overly affectionate.

He squeezes you tightly and picks you up off the ground slightly.

“Aw baby, what am I gonna do with you? Distracting me while I’m working isn’t very nice. Gonna have to fuck you dumb to get you calm down now, aren’t I?” Mingyu whispers in your ear seductively.

“You look so sexy out here working, Mingyu.  You might have to put a baby in my belly to truly satisfy me.” You whine while looking into his darkening eyes, daring him to make a move. Mingyu quickly grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for a deep kiss. You immediately put your hands into his hair. Not wanting to spend too much time kissing, you needed him now. You begin sliding your hands down his chest, all the way to the button of his jeans.

Breaking the kiss, Mingyu mutters, “you vixen…can’t ever have enough, can you? I thought I fucked you well last night, but you always want more. Such a greedy whore for me, is that it baby?”

Already feeling dumb and fucked out listening to his filthy words, you nod in agreement, letting the arousal take you.

“Gonna fuck you right here on the hood of the car, bet you’d love that huh (y/n)?”

You whine out loudly as he bends you over onto the hood of the car. The feeling of the hot metal on your skin burns with desire and anticipation for what will come. You suddenly feel Mingyu's fingers making their way to your center, pulling down your underwear, he adds two fingers into your cunt and ruts them into you making you scream loudly.

"So loud for me baby, guess you want the whole neighborhood to hear how well I fuck you." he growls out at the sight of how wet you are. It's almost picturesque how well your pussy glistens in the beaming sunlight. The squelching of his fingers is getting louder and louder as you near your climax.

“M-more Mingyu, need more, I’m so close” you manage to croak out.

“See, such a greedy whore, (y/n) can never be satisfied with what she has,” Mingyu tugs at your hair as he readjusts leaving your cunt empty and prods your entrance with his cock. “Here baby, gonna fuck you so full and give you that baby you want,” He stammers as he enters you slowly, rocking back and forth. As he bottoms out, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I love the way you fit, never want you to leave,” you whine as he enters you fully. You swear you’ve never been this horny ever in your life. Being bent over the hood of his car is doing things to you, and you swear you could cum at any second. You begin to move as to signal to Mingyu you are ready. He begins drilling into you like a dog in heat. “I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m so close baby.. please,” you croak out as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Yeah angel? Gonna let me cum inside you? Your pussy is begging for my cum I can feel you milking my cock every time I speak, you drive me crazy.” Mingyu lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder and begins rutting into you deeper and faster. After a couple more thrusts you feel your climax rising. Suddenly you’re hit with the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had. You see stars and feel euphoric.

 “Holy fuck baby,” Mingyu growls and you realize you squirted all over the hood of his freshly clean car. “That was so hot oh my god,” he states in disbelief and begins hammering into you even harder to chase his climax. “Almost there angel, you did so well, put on a show for me and everything.” All it takes is a couple more thrusts and Mingyu is moaning your name as he is pumping you full of cum. “Gonna make sure you’re stuffed full, don’t let it fall out baby. Wanna see you all big and full carrying our baby, yeah?”

You kiss Mingyu as he finishes riding out his high. Both of you are so full of love for each other you truly can’t wait for the future together, and who knows, maybe having two of you isn’t such a bad thing after all.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Holy crap, I feel incredible! Only one month into the Stealth Detrans Challenge and I'm having a blast! Soooo happy my boyfriend convinced me to do this! For those who aren't keeping up, I met Darren about three months ago on Tinder and even on our first date he was gushing about this challenge and how he'd love to see me try it. I only giggled and nodded along, telling him I'll think about it..... sure enough only a couple months later I actually decided to give in! Seeing the other girls do it definitely helped, watching them gradually change and try, but fail to hide their masculinization. It seemed simple enough.... Stop my hormones, start taking testosterone instead, and see how long I can go before I can't hide that I'm detransitioning and becoming a guy. Most girls only last a few months before it's way too obvious....

I'm not sure if I'm even gonna last that long! My body knows what it wants and now that it's finally tasted T, it's like I'm being fast-tracked through male puberty! It's totally wild to watch. Since I started blockers and hormones so young I've never had, like, any T in my system. My hips grew big, my ass got nice and fat, and of course my breasts became huge and perfect for guys to play with. My cock never got bigger than an inch, but after a month on testosterone it's already six inches fully erect! I can finally jerk off! I could only rub it before. Not only that, but my balls are getting really big. They used to be tiny and useless, now they're as big as eggs, full of glorious cum! I ejaculate these huge, thick, milky ropes of cum, sometimes a dozen per orgasm, especially right when I wake up and relieve my morning wood, which can take three or four orgasms before my erections finally stop.

I'm already failing to hide my cock. I can hardly wear jeans or shorts because I get erections constantly. It's humiliating having to run to the women's room, make sure nobody's around, put some porn on my phone and jerk off in a stall really fast. I usually just watch something that gets me going fast, like pregnant college girls giving birth as they suck cock and get ass fucked. I've almost gotten caught a few times.... Now I even pee standing up so it's even more obvious that a guy is using the ladies' room. If the noise of me beating my cock wasn't obvious enough, watching porn like some hopeless gooner with zero impulse control.

I never used to watch porn, and I only masturbated a couple times a week. Now I jerk off over a dozen times a day, sometimes in my car when I'm out driving, or I'll even hide behind bushes or trees at the park and rub one out if my erections ache enough. How can other guys stand this? And to think my cock is only just starting its growth, most 'girls' who do this challenge wind up with cocks somewhere between ten and fifteen inches. I...... kind of love the idea of having a massive cock, showing everyone I'm a man no matter how much I doll myself up and train my voice..... speaking of which. Yes, my voice is just starting to crack! I am SO hyped! Pretty soon I'm going to need to voice train if I'm going to convince anyone I'm supposedly a girl. Already my friends and coworkers are looking at me funny when I talk. Some of them smirk when I open my mouth, as they go from eyeing the bulge in my shorts to my newly cracking voice. They can tell deep down what I'm secretly doing.

My bf is really happy I decided to do this challenge, but even more so that I'm detransitioning in general. He told me on our first date he's bi but prefers men. I shrugged and joked that if he's sure I could always be a guy if he really wants me to be. He definitely took me up on that offer! Pretty soon my facial hair will come in. My body hair is already getting thicker and coming in faster. I'm getting new hair up my belly and it's starting to grow on my breasts! It's looking like I'm meant to be a really hairy guy. Always knew I took more after my dad.... And speaking of my breasts, I've started telling my friends I'm thinking of getting a reduction. I'm asking them how they feel about me going really small, that I'm self-conscious of being so big breasted. They seem to love the idea. A couple of them even straight up said I'd look amazing totally flat-chested. I just smiled big and said, "Oh! You think so, too?"

Now it's only a matter of time until my passing days are numbered.... Once my beard really comes in and my voice gets way deeper I'm gonna get top surgery. You know, I'd get it now but I'd hate to spoil the challenge so early! Half the fun is watching people wonder if I'm detransing or not. I'm having so much fun I already convinced two trans girls at my university to do the challenge, too! We're hoping many more will follow. There's nothing naughtier than having the perfect body as a trans girl, going through all the work of going on blockers and never missing your hrt, developing your dream body. Perfect hips, perfect ass, perfect tits and a beautiful face/voice to match, only to throw it all away because the thought of becoming a guy makes your cock super hard.... Guess that shows how male I really am. All I can think with is my dick!"

[theverystrangegirl27]

˚‧꒰ა♡໒꒱‧˚ Love Me ˚‧꒰ა♡໒꒱‧˚

summary: Bill and Ted find out no one has ever made you come before, and they aim to fix that

Warnings: smut, threesome, oral (f receiving)

“No one's ever made you come before?”

Ted asks, exasperated.

Mortified, you shake your head no.

“Bogus.” Bill declares, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment your innocent conversation about music had turned into a conversation about your lack of orgasms, but here you are, sitting in Bill and Ted's small apartment with an unopened Metallica album in your lap.

Ted's still looking at you in disbelief, eyebrows disappearing behind his shaggy dark hair and his lips parted.

“Like, never?”

Okay, this is getting a little ridiculous. You roll your eyes, setting the album back into its crate.

“I mean, it's not like I've never come before.” You huff, and that blue stain on the carpet is suddenly very interesting.

“Just, no one makes me come like me, y'know?” You shrug your shoulders, looking up through your lashes to find the two boys stuck staring at you.

There's a shift in the room, the atmosphere filled with this strange sexual tension that you're not used to having with these two.

Bill looks at Ted, Ted looks at Bill, and they both grin. Somethings been passed between the two of them, and you can't help but feel a little left out.

You frown, looking between the two of them.

“What?” You ask, a little self-conscious all of a sudden.

You feel too bare in your tank top, the urge to shrug your flannel back over your shoulders overwhelming.

Bill looks at you with a smile, white teeth on display, and a playful look in his eyes.

“Y/N, we've just had the most excellent idea.”

“Yeah,” Ted agrees, a twin smile on his own face.

You tilt your head, resting back on your hands.

“And your idea is…?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“We're gonna make you come!” Ted exclaims, over-eager as always.

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head.

“Huh?” You exclaim, flustered. Your cheeks get hot, and the air in the room feels way too warm.

“C'mon Y/N,” Bill starts leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.“You're like, a total babe! We wanna help.”

You feel a flutter of affection shoot through your heart at his words, and you take a moment to really look at Bill.

His legs are spread from where he's sitting on the couch, expression earnest as ever. Those pretty blue green eyes of his hold no hint of malice, no sign that this is all some elaborate prank.

You swallow, not sure how to respond.

“Uh, only if you're okay with it, though.” Ted adds, mistaking your expression for subtle rejection.

You blink a couple of times, biting your lip as you think on it. Would it really be so bad? Two of your closest friends learning your body, helping you come?

The idea sends a pleasant thrill up your spine, and you break into a shy smile.

“Okay,” you begin. “But I wanna do it on a proper bed, not in the living room.”

The boy's look incredibly pleased, sending each other wide smiles as they air guitar. You shake your head, impossibly endeared.

Once you've made your way to the bedroom- deciding on Bill's bed because it's the least cluttered- Ted puts on a tape, loud guitars and heavy drums filling the room.

You throw your flannel to the ground, left in jeans and your tank top. Leaning back on the bed, you flip your hair over one shoulder.

Bill, eyes wide and a dopey, sweet smile on his face, approaches you first.

“Just relax, babe. We'll take care of you.”

He leans forward, hand coming to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss.

Your fingers grip the comforter beneath you as you lean into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

Bill spreads your legs so he can stand between them, one knee bent on the bed as he pushes you back against the mattress.

Kissing Bill is a lot sweeter than you imagined, his usual laid back, charming demeanor changing into something softer.

Out of the two, Ted's always been the romantic, but it seems that Bill has a side of himself he's never shown to you.

How lucky, you think, that he's giving that to you now.

Moved by your own analysis, you move a hand to the back of his head to pull him back with you, his body pressing you gently into the sheets. You tangle your fingers in his curls, licking into his mouth with a muffled sigh.

His hand slips to your waist, fingers splayed across your midriff underneath the tank top.

“Woah,” you hear Ted breathe from where he stands at the foot of the bed.

Bill and you break for air, just looking at one another for a moment before you glance over his shoulder at Ted.

“C’mere, Ted.” You call to him softly, stroking at the nape of Bill's neck as he kisses at your collarbones.

It's so easy with these two - you feel yourself getting wet as Bill pushes your tank top up and over your breasts, lips trailing down the soft skin there.

Usually, you're never this worked up so early, but something about these boys drives you crazy.

Ted moves to your side, leaning over you to kiss you. He's a little clumsy with it, sweet in a way that makes your heart flip around in your chest. You smile as you pull away, looking into his dark, lust blown eyes before leaning back in.

Bill makes a soft noise from below, having exposed you nipples to the cool air of their bedroom.

“You've got like, the best tits babe.” Bill says, making you laugh a little as Ted settles in beside you.

“Totally,” Ted agrees, one hand coming down to toy with your right nipple.

You sigh, watching the both of them as Bill kisses down your chest, hands unzipping your jeans and getting a hand down the front of them.

“You know what would be sick?” Ted says, voice a little rough. “If you got ‘em pierced.”

Bill, momentarily distracted by Ted's comment, looks up with a wide grin.

“Dude, that's an excellent idea!” He exclaims, and you squirm a little to get their attention back on you, sitting up a little to shrug your tank top off fully.

“Bill, baby,” you intone sweetly, batting your eyes. “Could you help me with my jeans please?”

Bill goes kind of soft, eyes molten with lust as he swallows.

“Fuck, sure thing babe.”

What follows next is the quick zip of your fly, and you lift your hips as he drags them down your legs.

You sigh, head rolling onto Ted's shoulder when Bill presses soft, sweet kisses to your panties. His lips are warm over the fabric, and your breath hitches as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Bill's really good at giving head,” Ted says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It's his favorite.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, eyes wide as Bill looks up at you through his lashes, lips pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Oh yeah,” Ted says. He's holding you close, fingers toying with one nipple. “You're gonna love it.”

You scoff, face flushed with anticipation.

“We'll see.”

Bill, taking this as a challenge, smiles against your skin. He gets both hands under your hips, pulling your pussy to his mouth in one fell swoop.

You yelp as your lower body shifts and your head lands in Ted's lap.

Dark, lust blown eyes blink down at you, Ted's hair falling into his eyes a little as he smiles.

You bend your neck to look at Bill, ready to chastise him, but all that comes out of your open mouth is a gasp as Bill's tongue swipes over your clit.

He's so gentle with it, lips soft and firm, where they press against your heated flesh. Two blunt fingertips trace your entrance, gathering the wetness there and only just dipping inside.

You find yourself curling your fingers into Ted's jeans, hips twitching a little as Bill suckles a little on your clit.

Most guys you've been with hardly know what the clit is, let alone know where it is.

Bill, on the other hand, looks entirely focused on giving you the best head of your life, brow furrowed as he mouths at your cunt sweetly.

Ted leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Told you he's good.”

You can't respond, lost in the way Bill's fingers move within you. He curls them up, hitting something inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You move to grip his curls with one hand to ground yourself, tilting your head back.

Bill hums against your cunt, content to stay down there forever, and you wouldn't complain if he did.

Ted's playing with your hair, peppering light kisses across your forehead. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and you open your eyes to look at him.

He's looking at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the only thing he wants to see for the rest of your life.

It makes your heart swell and your pussy throb, arching your back a little when Bill curls his fingers up.

He groans against your pussy, low and aroused at the very taste of you. You can't believe this- no man has ever made you feel this good.

“Fuck,” You whimper, Bill's slow and steady pace picking up a quick, pulsing rhythm that leaves your thighs shaking.

“I'm gonna come” you breathe, disbelief lacing your tone as you stare up at Ted with big, watery eyes.

He strokes your hair, fingers trailing down the side of your face.

“Yeah, babe?” Ted asks sweetly, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “Fuck, I bet you're even prettier when you cum.”

You can't focus, your mouth falling open, back arching, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sheets.

“Bill, Bill, oh my god-” Is all you're able to get out as your thighs clench around his ears, your pussy pulsing as you come on his fingers and tongue.

You're shaking, eyes closed tight as Ted presses a kiss to your forehead, sweet nothings tumbling out of his mouth.

Bill fingers you through it, kissing the inside of your thigh as those pretty blue eyes look up at you, a self-satisfied smirk settling across his lips.

When you finally open your eyes, Bill's leaning over you, a hand coming to cup your chin.

“Was that good, babe?” He asks, searching your face.

You're still panting a little, and you can't help yourself as you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

Tasting yourself on his lips is hotter than you expected.

You break for air, sitting up and in Ted's lap, whose hard as fuxk in his jeans.

You lick your lips, looking between your boys.

“I'm gonna make both of you come so hard.” You say, a mischievous grin on your face.

Bill and Ted look at each other, then back to you.

“Excellent!”

[libraryspectre]

I wanted to talk about the Black Parade uniforms and it kind of turned into an entire essay. My ideas on the intention behind each costume and their cohesion as a group really evolved over the course of writing this, and I think it brought into focus a lot of things I knew subconsciously but hadn't articulated. I also noticed a lot of details I had never seen before. This has futher convinced me that 1) costume design and what you can say with it is really fascinating and 2) this is S-tier costume design of all time. And it's really long so I'm putting the rest under the cut.

What I would have loved is a Weezer-style picture of the five of them standing side by side, full bodies visible, but unfortunately that doesn't seem to exist. They're either covering each other up, or posed in such a way that details aren't visible or cut is hard to compare, so I'll have to provide a variety of visuals. This weirdly blurry poster is the closest thing I could find to a Weezer picture, so take them in as a group and refer back as necessary. I want to start by saying, obviously, that they look amazing both individually and as a set. "Dark marching band of death" is a really fun concept that is very well executed. But this isn't their first time doing a look as a group - think back to Revenge for a minute, when they really started to think about their costuming as a band. Gerard has talked about how then, they were kind of closing ranks against the vitriol coming their way. They needed to feel like a team, a gang, and dressed like one. I think some of this mentality has carried over into the Black Parade uniforms - they're less defensive, (there's no bulletproof vests), but in taking on new, nameless identities they have removed themselves as individuals from the equation, which is protective in its own way. What's left are stage personas, and the more you look the more you see that these were designed by someone who is very familiar with the history of the band and how each member presents themselves on stage. It's absolutely genius costume design, because when everyone is in uniform, the little differences are more noticable and tell you so much about the intention behind each variation.

Before we really start, I have to confess that I have no history in costuming or even a lot of familiarity with marching or military bands. I can only say I find costuming interesting, so I've read a little about it, and I went to high school in America and almost all my friends were in marching band. Someone who is more educated in these things could probably give more specific insights and have a better vocabulary to talk about it, but do not underestimate me. I am deeply obsessed with MCR and got A's in English, so let's find some meaning in symbolism! But please remember that with all art, there is no one interpretation. And remember going forward that these costumes were designed by Colleen Atwood, based on sketches she was given by Gerard, so there's no telling what elements were brought in by her and what elements Gerard had planned originally. If anyone has sources on that, PLEASE let me know because I'm very curious about the design process.

Also, I'll be using the uniforms as they appear in the WTTBP video as the standard, with acknowledgements toward variations seen in posters and the FLW video. It's worth noting that in many live performances they wore different, less unique jackets, and often forewent the pants for black jeans. This is almost certainly because they were easier to perform in and they didn't want to subject the originals to the sweat and rowdiness of regular shows. Ok, here we go! Here are some pics to refer back to throughout.

Starting with the band as a whole, I want to point out two things: first, marching bands evolved from military bands. The individual costumes vary in how "military" they look, but you can definitely see the influence when you look at them as a set. I imagine they leaned into that a bit because of the military elements on the record - the suggestion in Mama that the patient was a soldier, maybe even a war criminal. We also know they've done military aesthetics before, in The Ghost of You music video, and that the band was formed in response to 9/11. Suffice to say, the military is on the mind, and this is a continuation of that.

They also look a bit like skeletons. Obviously they would occasionally do the face paint, but the uniforms themselves suggest a ribcage with the horizontal silver lines, and at some angles the stripes on the pants also really contribute to the image. I know most people have already realized this, but I wanted to point it out explicitly because it took me an embarassingly long time to see it.

Alright, I'm gonna talk about them individually now, going from my personal least to most favorite. Taste aside, they're all individually really interesting.

5. Bob

(I can't find another good Bob picture, just scroll up to the blurry one)

It's not just because I don't like Bob, I genuinely like this one much less than all the others. It might be because it's less tailored - the others look much sharper, he looks almost rumpled in comparison. The lose fit might be because as a drummer, he needed better range of movement, but I'm not a drummer so I don't know. The cut of his jacket looks kind of naval to me, which is interesting. His stripes are also very minimal compared to the others. Overall, his looks the least like it's part of a set. I don't necessarily think they meant to set him apart, but maybe they did, considering he's the only non-original member (I'm counting Frank as an original member) and the only one not from New Jersey (which, I only point out because they ALWAYS point that out to people who mention they're a Jersey band. We're from Jersey, Bob is from Chicago.) Maybe it was a subconscious thing, or maybe as the drummer his costume was designed to make the most of what would be visible sitting and partially obscured by the drum kit. It does have a very dramatic collar. That's probably also part of the reason they gave him a more distinctive haircut for this - I'm not gonna talk about hair much, but it's worth mentioning. Overall, I don't have a ton to say about Bob because I don't think of him much (sorry, but not really).

4. Frank

Frank's is really interesting. His is the least traditional-looking, which is why it's here in the ranking, but I like it and I think there's a good reason for that. Those stripes on the sleeve are a really strong look, and the material of the silver has kind of a tarnished/dappled look you can see better in other photos. I've seen people say it's a subtle camo pattern, but I'm honestly not sure - I think he's supposed to look a little less new and shiny. The blockiness of it widens him and gives him a lot of presence that might be lost if he was dressed more like the others, and it compliments his performance style well. That's particularly important in the WTTBP video - on that float, he simply doesn't have room to be as wild and energetic as his standard performance was at the time, so this uniform helps him stand out and draw attention to what thrashing he is able to do. As far as bucking tradition, he also is the only one without shoulder tabs (those little loops). There's something funny about that - those tabs are meant to hold loops and eupalletes that would signify rank, placement, or achievement, which apparently you could not give to Frank if you tried. I think this lack of traditionality is reflective of Frank's more punk sensibilities, having come up in the Jersey scene. His playing style evolved over time as he and Ray influenced each other, but at the start he was very much their punk guitarist and coming up in that scene continued to influence how he conducted himself as a musician. I think this uniform marks him as a non-conformist even within the group.

He also has that patch with a red cross on the sleeve, the only bit of color on any of them. I don't know what to make of that, maybe it's just for the Catholic vibes.

Honestly, Frank's feels the most like what people would expect from an "emo" marching band uniform. Especially considering the poster, where he's found a hole to stick his thumb through. I don't think he's wearing it in the video, but in that poster he has this belt with some kind of weapon?? Maybe?? We get it, he's a dangerous little man.

3. Mikey

Mikey's uniform is by far the most military - it's not just the medal, it's also the cut of the jacket. And he's the only one with a fun little belt, which helps keep the silhouette look nice and tailored even though the jacket flares a little at the waist. We all know the medal is a reference to his death in The Ghost of You video (there's no way they didn't know we would make that connection) and it wouldn't surprise me if the rest of his uniform looks more military because it was built around that idea. But also consider Mikey's stage presence at the time - due to his discomfort on stage, he used to be really stoic, standing in the back, getting the job done with little showmanship. I think that presentation lends itself well to a classic military figure. Mikey is also pretty thin, and the long jacket and it's strong, solid construction keeps him from looking too Victorian-orphan waifish (especially with how pale they all are), and more like a dead soldier boy.

Additionally, Mikey's costume leaning so hard into the military side helps them look more military as a group. It keeps the association in your mind when you look at the others. Also, he's wearing a little necklace here, which I've never noticed before, is he wearing that in the videos?? I think it's an anchor, which is fun considering he died on a beach.

2. Gerard

Yes, Gerard's is #2 in my ranking. I'm sorry, I might have a slight bias knocking it down from #1. But maybe not, let me defend myself when I get there. Anyway, Gerard's is the most classically marching band, which makes sense considering he's the frontperson. In fact, he has one of those braided loops on his shoulder we talked about earlier, demonstrating.....something, it seems to vary a lot, but we're probably meant to think leadership. He's not wearing it the WTTBP video, but it's there in Famous Last Words. He also has that fancy little star thing on the shoulder, which definitely seems to suggest rank. Otherwise, his uniform is very basic. He's the template that the others' uniforms are variations of. And it's a great look! He's also got nice big buttons compared to the others, three whole rows of them, which is a nice touch to make it look a liiiiittle more feminine. Because, of course, the back of the jacket is corseted, in a genious stroke of gender that puts the entire outfit in a new context. I think this is a good example of how Gerard likes to play with androgony by balancing masc and femme elements. The cut of his jacket makes his shoulders look wide and his waist narrow, but not so narrow it looks terribly feminine (just a little, taken on its own). A lot of this is achieved by the piping - notice how on Bob, Mikey, and Frank, the top row of piping (I might be using that word wrong but let's go with it. I'm talking about the silver stuff across the chest) is pretty much the same length as the bottom row? On Gerard, they start out wide way up on his shoulders and get progressively narrower at the waist. It's still a mostly masculine silhouette, but then you have the counter balance of the big buttons and his little white pixie cut, both of which lean just a little further toward femme than masc. It's an androgynous look that leans toward masc as a whole, until he turns around and, boom, corseted back. Showstopping. He also had those black leather gloves that give some nice formality, and maybe a touch of impersonality. They make it so that when he's in full uniform, the only skin you can see is that of his face. They're like an edgier version of the usual plain white marching band gloves.

1. Ray

Going purely by aesthetics, Ray's is my favorite. It's the fancy one, most obviously distinct by the flourishes around the buttons on his jacket. He Mikey are the only ones with pure silver shoulder loops, and Ray has more silver piping on his jacket than the others. In some pictures he's wearing this really ornate knotted tassle thing? You can see it in one of the group pictures above. He isn't wearing it in any of the videos, which makes sense as it could be really annoying while playing. The cut of his jacket at the bottom also looks formal to me, but I'm not sure why. Overall, the ornanamentation could be a reflection of his playing style - the same caveat here applies to Frank, in that they influenced each other through their parnership as guitarists, (and Ray has a lot of influences from different genres), but at the start he was their metal guitarist, and the guitars in metal are often complicated and showy. And he's their soloist, they need to show him off a little.

Additionally, the construction here is giving him an absolutely wild silohette. Like Gerard, the piping on his jacket gets progressively narrower to suggest a smaller waist, but without the really long stripes at the top to make the shoulders look broader. Those vertical lines across the front add to the effect because they're curved inward - which is interesting, because everyone else's uniforms are composed of entirely straight lines and sharp angles. And his jacket is cut REALLY high on the side. I can't tell if Ray's pants are more high-waisted than the others, or if it just looks that way because of the cut of the jacket. You see the stripe of the pants go all the way up his hip, and since he's already tall with long legs, it really accentuates that. It's hard to tell, but I think his pants are even a little more form-fitting than the others. The other day I saw people commenting on a gif of Ray in the WTTBP video about how they never noticed how long his legs are - this is why!

We talk about how part of what makes Ray such a compelling performer is how he moves, and I think this costume was designed to compliment fluid motion. The tailoring and curves of the piping avoid making him look too rigid or blocky, as a marching band uniform could easily do, and the high cut of the jacket lets the line of his legs continue uninterrupted. Honestly, this is a favorite look for Raygirls (gender neutral) for a reason - I think they knew exactly what they were doing putting him in a pretty, well-tailored uniform that accentuates his movement. (Caveat here that I'm a Raygirl (gn) so I'm definitely biased, and they all look great in their uniforms, but I do think Ray's is.....uniquely flattering, and I don't think it was an accident).

Conclusions

So now that we've talked about all of them, I think we have some interesting contrasts to make. Gerard and Mikey both have very classic looks, but Gerard's is more marching band and Mikey's is more military. Mikey and Bob both have very military looks, but Mikey's has a much more solid construction. Gerard and Ray are both on the marching band side of the spectrum, but Gerard's is classic while Ray's is ornate. My favorite contrast is between the guitarists - Frank's is blocky and rigid and tarnished, Ray's is curved and fluid and shiny.

The interplay between similarity and contrast is what makes this so compelling as a group costume - just by looking you can tell who's the leader, who's the tragic figure, who's the outcast, who's the rebel, who's being spotlit.

In closing, thank you Colleen Atwood and Gerard Way for designing these and the rest of the band for wearing them, I will never get tired of looking at them.

[5a-alf]

I have been obsessing over this perfect court!AU and have literally like one irl friend to talk about it with. So.

The thing about Riko is that he never ever ever could have been anything different. He has at least one but probably two personality disorders (narcisism and antisocial i'd argue), which are the result of the abuse he endured. From a young age he was only an object, a spare, or the embodiment of an idea.

Others are redeemable because they are people, but he never really was a person in his own right. So he got worse and worse and worse, and we all know what he did.

I wanted a story where he could have something different, for i feel there is no universe in which he ends in a different way: everything he has is a childish dream, and that would have failed at some point anyway. And with failure comes death. I think his brother would have killed him even without the whole clusterfuck of the last game, just because without Kengo the main line was now only one adult and the 'branch' one was 2, which is one too many. Between Riko and Testuji, killing Riko made the most sense because Testuji had no interest in power, he just liked his dolls; also he was already an expert at his job, while Riko would have to learn/train to fill that role. And obviously age is also a factor, Riko is young, Testuji is middle-aged: for ichirou, a young man, the second is less threatening.

I could go on for hours guys im not even joking

For him to have a different future, he is not even the only thing that needs to change. If he was a good person, he'd have been dead earlier. If he was an okay person too. Maybe as morally gray he'd have the same exact life with a little less enemies.

What needs to change with him is the people he has around, his safety net. He has zero people on his side in canon (And he shouldn't have them, mind, he's horrid. But still, out of every bad person in aftg he is the only one who no one loves), he only has followers and pawns. So for an AU to work, he would need to change in a way that would affect the people he surrounds himself with enough to once again reach the show down with Ichirou and "win" against Testuji.

To do that, i think he needs Neil on his side. Kevin is great dont get me wrong, but he doesnt get it the way neil does. Neil gets the mafia, its way of thinking, its deals and the way power moves. Neil know how to be vicious and how to read people and how to push just enough.

To have a 'good' relationship with neil something needs to go differently during the selling, so that his mom doesnt run away with him. But he'd also need to have a good relationship with kevin first. For him to have a different relationship woth kevin i dont think he'd necessarily need to be better morally, he'd just need to be a better manipulator. In canon he controls people with fear/violence/money, but the best way to control people is actually through love/favors. To train a dog, you better give it treats than beat it. I think this way they would end up with a better relationship but also, the better relationship would in turn make him a better person, and the two things would continue to feed each other.

Neil comes in now. He is 10, Riko and Kevin are 12. The thing with Neil (aside from all i've already said) is that Riko would quite literally own him at this point, the same way he then owns Jean. The main difference between the two situations i think would be 1) their personalities 2) their age. At 16 (Jean 14) Riko is already off the deep end. Waay too deep. But at 12? Different story.

For the first point, mostly i'd say that Neil grew up in an abusive household like jean did, but he knew his father as the butcher, as a mafioso, and he was taught how to use knives ecc as a kid. He knew the drill, he knew the life. Jean was completely uprooted, brought into a different country, told to play a game i dont think he knew anything about. Much more jarring. Neil already loved Exy, he wanted to play it all the time; the sport itself would be a good motivator for good behaviour. Jean was just angry angry angry (fair.) and alone in a different country. So. Not the same. I think Raven!Neil would be the one person on the team not afraid to tell Riko off, but also not afraid of his violence (much more restricted in this au guys), and riko is also not scared of Neil's violence (a bit more than in canon, he grew at castle evermore; he is nathaniel) so they find solace in each other. He'd know when to listen and when to mouth off [Riko saying "nathaniel" vs "neil" and things like that]

Second point is their age, because at 12 riko is more susceptible to change than he is at 16, so building a rapport with neil would prove more beneficial, for all i've said in point one.

Jean would be a harder case. Bringing him to heel is much more complicated, because riko doesnt have anything to leverage against him nor offer him, the guy has nothing to lose anymore and now is not enough of a person to desire anything (well. Anything obtainable. He'd like to be free for sure). I think again a lot of the work would be done by neil (and kevin too obv, but neil mostly, as his partner) because they are the same age, play the same role, are partners. Neil would be a centainty. And this better riko wouldnt be violent to destroy his spirit, he'd be "forgiving" (when useful) and bandage his wounds when the Master beats him, and be generally kind to a kid who is so starved for kindness he'd kill himself to at least get the touch of death. That + group mentality and i think jean would be on board too.

Andrew also factors in all of this, but i'll go on later this has gotten SO LONG and i wont even reread it gosh i hope it makes sense.

Basically this whole thing ends up in: take the insanity that is andreil as a couple but that somehow is the sanest couple out there but extend it to the perfect court 5.