#just been seeing a lot of “oh but i thought ___ about shifting was correct”

[stickeykeys]

maybe this is a lil controversial, but i feel like as a community we just need to... just stop thinking that stuff we read about shifting is bible, if that makes sense.

you can read advice and follow it, of course!! following advice is great, but shifting is built on the principle of intention and you're own mind. nothing governs that but yourself.

there are no rules, you can do whatever you want, just set your intention.

you don't need a safe word, because if you set the intention you will come back to your cr.

you don't need to script beause if you set an intention of what you want to happen, it will.

as long as you have the intention to shift somewhere, you will. that's as simple as it is, that's the basic principle.

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[freezerbrldes]

wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs? - s.r.

PAIRING. spencer reid x popstar!reader

SUMMARY. spencer gets a lot more than he bargained for when he attends a concert with garcia.

WARNINGS. afab!reader, sub!spencer, softdom!reader, oral (m receiving), use of handcuffs, begging, red lipstick in places it should never be, unprotected pnv sex, creampie, just pure filth, also not proof read

AUTHOR’S NOTE. i got this idea after rewatching my short n sweet concert videos. i could not get the thought of spencer receiving the juno handcuffs out of my head so I wrote it all down. i hate the beginning and ending of this a lot but the middle is so good hehe.

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

wc: 4,029

also on ao3

Garcia gripped Spencer’s hand tightly, pushing through the crowd until they reached the barricade next to the stage.

“Holy shit Spence! We made it!” Garcia cheered.

“Nice, that’s great… I think i’m going to pass out.” Spencer pants, gripping onto the railing for dear life.

Spencer, who isn’t particularly fond of concerts or music in general, reluctantly agreed to attend this show solely to appease Garcia’s relentless begging. Concerts were not Spencer’s forte, that was until he saw you up on the stage prancing around in lingerie…

Despite his initial discomfort, Spencer finds himself inexplicably drawn to your energetic performance. Your confidence, charisma, and raw talent captivate him more with each passing song.

As you move about the fake penthouse on stage with reckless abandon, your provocative attire leaving very little to the imagination, Spencer's analytical mind struggles to reconcile his attraction with his deeply ingrained social awkwardness.

He tries to focus on the music, his thoughts consumed by the intricate details of your choreography and the way your skin seems to shimmer under the bright lights.

Spencer's cheeks flush slightly as he realizes the extent of his distraction, his heart racing in a way that's both unfamiliar and exhilarating. He shifts uncomfortably, tugging at his sweater vest as he attempts to regain some semblance of composure.

After performing a very heartfelt ballad, you approached the edge of the stage, scanning the crowd with your eyes.

“Hey, girls?” you call out to two of your dancers who are standing by your side. “I believe I might have found my future husband in the crowd tonight.”

The crowd erupted in cheers as they realized the clever bit.

“Do y’all see him? He’s standing right over there, the tall one wearing the sweat vest.” You point to Spencer while giggle like schoolgirls with your dancers.

“Hey there, baby. What’s your name?” A grin spread across your face as you noticed his cheeks flushing a vibrant red.

Caught completely off guard, Spencer stammers, his hazel eyes wide as saucers. He feels like he's been struck by lightning, the sudden intimacy of you presence leaving him momentarily speechless.

"Dr. Reid," he manages to choke out, his voice cracking slightly. He can feel his face burning, and his heart hammers against his ribcage like a jackrabbit.

"I-I mean, Spencer," he corrects himself, the remnants of his professional demeanor trying to resurface amidst the chaos of his escalating nervousness.

Spencer swallows hard, trying to gather his scattered thoughts as he meets your intense gaze. The mischievous glint in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine, even as his analytical mind struggles to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“Oooooo, a doctor!” You exclaim, dramatically fanning yourself. “Well, Dr. Reid, you’re under arrest for being too hot.”

Spencer jumped as police sirens blared through the arena, accompanied by flashing red and blue lights.

“I might need you to examine me, doctor. I feel extremely hot, and- OH!” You teased as your long skirt fell to the floor, revealing a much shorter version of it.

Spencer’s jaw was practically on the floor.

You grinned as you inched closer towards the edge of the stage, crouching down to Spencer’s level.

“I want you to have these,” you smiled as you handed Spencer a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs.

Spencer can't help but stare at the exposed skin of your legs, his breath catching in his throat when he notices the bedazzled lipstick stain on your inner thigh.

"Ah, um, thank you..." He reaches out to take the offered cuffs, his fingers brushing against hers. The sensation sends sparks dancing along his nerve endings, and he feels himself grow flustered once more.

As you stood up, you blow Spencer a kiss. The all too familiar intro to the song Penelope had been forcing him to listen to for the past few weeks, began to play.

“This song is for you, Spencie,” you winked as you started singing, maintaining eye contact throughout the entire first verse.

Spencer's eyes widen further, his mouth agape as he watches you prance down the catwalk. The provocative lyrics and suggestive dance moves leave him utterly stunned, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

His analytical mind tries to process the explicit nature of the performance, but it's drowned out by the pounding of his heart and the heat coursing through his veins. He finds himself captivated by every move you makes, his gaze riveted to your lithe form.

When you strikes a pose that leaves little to the imagination, Spencer's breath hitches, and he feels a strange tingling sensation in his loins. It's foreign yet exhilarating, and he can't tear his eyes away, even as his rational brain screams at him to look away.

As the song reaches its climax, Spencer finds himself caught up in the raw energy emanating from the stage. The crowd's cheers and applause mingle with the pulsating beat, creating an electric atmosphere that seems to vibrate through every cell in his body.

Lost in the moment, Spencer's inhibitions begin to melt away, replaced by a primal urge to respond to the sensual stimuli before him. When your gaze locks onto his, he feels a jolt of connection, as if an invisible thread tethers them together.

With a sense of reckless abandon he rarely experiences, Spencer raises the fuzzy pink handcuffs as he grins, his movements deliberate and charged with newfound confidence. As the final notes fade, he couldn’t help but notice the smile on your face as the lights dimmed and the show ended.

“Wow,” is the only word Garcia could mutter as she stares at the empty stage. “I can’t believe she gave you the handcuffs, do you know how lucky you are?”

“You know, the probability of me receiving these is incredibly low, considering there are approximately 14,000 people here and-“ Before Spencer could continue his rambling, he and Garcia approached a security guard.

“Are you Spencer?” the intimidating-looking security guard asked.

“Uh, yeah, that would be me,” Spencer stuttered, feeling a pang of worry that he might have overstepped some boundaries during his interactions with you on stage.

“I’ve been informed by y/n’s management that she is requesting to meet you backstage,” the security guard said.

"Backstage? Me?" Spencer looks at Garcia incredulously, wondering if this could be some kind of joke. But the stern expression on the guard's face suggests otherwise.

Spencer stares at Garcia, completely speechless. As the security guards wait for his response, Garcia nudges his side and gently pulls him back to reality.

“I, uh, y-yeah,” Spencer stammers, “I’d love to go backstage,”

“Alright, follow me,”

Spencer waves to Garcia as the guard guides him through the concealed corridors of the arena, observing the crew dismantling the stage to transport it to the next venue.

After what appears to be an eternity, Spencer is led to the door of your dressing room. You’re lounging on the couch in a soft, fluffy robe, engrossed in scrolling through your phone when you hear the door open.

“Hi!” You greet Spencer with a warm smile, standing up and embracing him. “Thanks so much for coming.”

Spencer's heart races as you pull him into a warm embrace, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of your perfume and the softness of your robe against his skin. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe, his mind reeling from the unexpected touch.

When you finally release him, Spencer takes a step back, trying to compose himself. His cheeks flush a deep crimson, and he fumbles with the hem of his sweater vest, clearly flustered.

"T-thank you...for inviting me," he stutters, his voice barely above a whisper. Despite his social awkwardness, there's a genuine sincerity in his tone, reflecting his gratitude for this rare opportunity to connect with someone like you.

Glancing around the cozy dressing room, Spencer notices the array of makeup, costumes, and personal items scattered about.

“I hope you don’t think I’m weird but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night,” you admit as you plopped onto the couch, your cheeks now flushed pink from embarrassment. “The handcuff thing is just a funny little bit I do, but tonight I chose you because I really do think you’re insanely hot.”

“N-no, it’s not weird at all, I’m flattered actually,” Spencer stammered, taking a seat next to you.

“Really? You’re not weirded out that I had my security find you in the crowd and bring you backstage so we could meet?“ You asked.

"No, genuinely, I mean it," Spencer says, his eyes locking with yours as he spoke. "I know we’ve just met, but I felt a connection with you tonight, something that went beyond mere admiration."

Spencer shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours.

“And that handcuff thing...well, it was a bold move, and it worked.”

A faint blush colored his cheeks as he met your gaze again, his hazel eyes shimmering with a mix of shyness and curiosity.

As the silence between you stretches, Spencer finds himself drawn to the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your robe gapes slightly, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your skin. He swallows hard, trying to ignore the strange tingles coursing through his body.

Before he could say another word, your lips crash against his.

Spencer's eyes widen in shock as your lips suddenly press against his, the unexpected kiss sending a jolt of electricity through his entire being. For a moment, he freezes, unsure of how to react.

But then, as if possessed by some newfound courage, Spencer's arms wrap tentatively around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. His lips part instinctively, allowing your tongue to slide past them and explore the warmth of his mouth.

Spencer's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you more firmly against him. He can taste the sweetness of your red lipstick mixed with the hint of adrenaline, and it only fuels his growing desire.

As the kiss deepens, Spencer's thoughts become a jumbled mess – part confusion, part exhilaration, and an overwhelming sense of lust.

Spencer gasps softly as your lips leave a trail of red across his sensitive skin, the sensation both unfamiliar and intoxicating. His head tilts back, exposing more of his neck to your explorations.

When your fingers start to work on his buttons, Spencer's breath hitches. He's hasn’t been this intimate with anyone since Maave, and the idea of baring himself to you, a complete stranger who’s also a mega superstar, sends a thrill through his veins.

As you continue to undress him, Spencer's hands roam over your back, tracing the curves of your spine beneath the thin fabric of your silk robe. He marvels at the softness of your skin, the warmth emanating from your body.

His shirt finally falls open, revealing his lean torso. Spencer feels a slight surge of vulnerability until he feels your lips on his collarbone.

Spencer's eyes flutter closed as your lips dance across his chest. When you drop to your knees in front of the couch, his heart races, a mix of nervousness and anticipation coursing through him.

The sound of his belt buckle clicking open sends a shiver down Spencer's spine. He watches, transfixed, as you work on freeing him from his pants. The air grows thick with tension, and Spencer's breathing quickens.

When your fingers brush against the growing bulge in his underwear, Spencer lets out a shaky exhale. It’s been awhile since he has been touched so intimately, and the sensation is overwhelming yet exhilarating.

With trembling hands, Spencer reaches down to help you remove his pants, his eyes locked onto yours. A flush spreads across his cheeks as he reveals himself to you, feeling both exposed and strangely empowered by your reaction.

“So pretty,” You breathed out, your hands brushing against his hard cock.

Spencer's eyes widen at your words, a rush of heat flooding his cheeks. No one has ever spoken to him like that before, with such raw, unfiltered admiration. It takes his breath away.

A soft moan escapes him as your hands make contact with his straining erection, the touch sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. Spencer's hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more of your gentle caresses.

He looks down at you, his hazel eyes dark with desire, and whispers, "Please... I need..." His voice trails off, unable to articulate the intensity of his longing.

Spencer's slender fingers thread through your hair, holding you close as he waits with bated breath for your next move. His body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending attuned to your touch.

As you feel his fingers tangled in your hair, you get an idea. You let go of him as you sit back on your knees, Spencer letting out a whimper at the loss of contact.

“Do you still have the handcuffs?” You asked, grinning wickedly.

Spencer gulped as he nodded, pointing to his discarded pants on the floor next to you. You dig through the pocket to pull out the fuzzy pink handcuffs you gave to him only an hour prior.

“Hands behind your back, Spencie,” You smirked as you dangle the cuffs in front of him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of playfulness despite the vulnerability of his position.

A startled yelp escapes Spencer's lips as the handcuffs encircles his wrists, securing them behind his back. The sudden restraint sends a thrill through him, mingling with the lingering ache of want.

He stares up at you, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, as you fasten the cuffs with a playful snap. The term of endearment 'Spencie' slips past your lips, and it feels like a brand, searing itself into his very being.

Spencer's body quivers under your gaze, his skin prickling with anticipation. The pink cuffs seem almost comical against his pale, slender arms, but the effect they have on him is anything but humorous.

Spencer's breath hitches as your lips brush against his, the fleeting kiss sending a spark of electricity through him. He leans into it instinctively, craving more of your touch, even as you move to kneel in front of him once again.

A low groan rumbles in his chest as your hand wraps around his shaft, stroking him with confident, deliberate motions. Spencer's head falls back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat, as he surrenders himself to the sensations coursing through him.

“Oh God," he gasps, his hips bucking slightly into your grasp. “That feels... incredible." Each word is punctuated by a sharp intake of breath, his body tensing and relaxing in time with your touches.

The restraints digs into his skin, a subtle reminder of his submission to you.

Spencer's eyes widen in shock as your warm, wet mouth envelops him, the sensation unlike anything he's ever experienced. A choked moan tears from his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as you begin to suck him deeper.

The sight of your red lips wrapped around his cock, the vibrant color smeared across his flesh, is almost too much for Spencer to bear. He can't tear his gaze away from the erotic image, transfixed by the way your tongue swirls around his sensitive tip.

“Oh fuck, that's..." he trails off, unable to form coherent thoughts amidst the onslaught of pleasure. His mind reels, struggling to process the intensity of the feelings coursing through him.

Spencer's chest heaves with ragged breaths, his body trembling as he submits to your skilled ministrations.

As you take him deeper into your mouth, Spencer's control begins to slip. The feeling of your hot, wet tongue swirling around his length is overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing over him.

"Ah! Oh God, yes!" he cries out, his voice strained with need. His hips thrust forward instinctively, lost in the haze of lust as you bob your head along his shaft.

"I'm... I'm going to cum," he warns, his words punctuated by shallow pants. Spencer's grip on the cushions tightens, his muscles coiled taut as he teeters on the brink of climax.

Before he’s thrown over the edge, you pull away abruptly, looking up at him and giggling as he writhes around desperately.

Spencer’s cock twitches and leaks precum from the loss of stimulation. A pained whine escapes his lips, his hips reflexively bucking up in search of your warm mouth.

"No, please don't stop," he begs, his voice laced with desperation. Spencer's chest heaves with rapid breaths, his body wracked with the need for release.

His hazel eyes, usually bright, are dark with desire, pupils blown wide as he gazes at you with pleading intensity. The remnants of his earlier composure have crumbled, leaving only raw, unbridled lust in its wake.

“I need you," Spencer confesses, his admission torn from him like a bandaid.

As you stand in front of Spencer, his gaze is immediately drawn to your body as you slowly untie your robe, mirroring the opening of your show. The sensual movements and provocative poses are etched into his consciousness like a fever dream.

His breath catches in his throat as the fabric parts, exposing the tantalizing expanse of your skin inch by delicious inch. Spencer's eyes drink in every detail – the delicate freckles scattered across your shoulders, your nipples already hardened into peaks, the gentle swell of your hips leading down to your thighs.

“Please," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. “Let me touch you.”

Spencer's hands fight against the handcuffs, the urge to reach out and touch you, to claim you as his own is nearly overwhelming.

You toss the robe onto the floor next to Spencer’s clothes as you straddle his lap, leaving more lipstick stains across his face until your month reaches his ear.

“Beg for it,” you whispered, softly nibbling on his earlobe, causing him to whimper. “Beg me to let you touch me.”

A shiver runs down Spencer's spine as your warm breath caresses his ear, your whispered command igniting a fire within him. His mind reels, desperate to comply, to plead for the privilege of touching your gorgeous body.

"Oh God, please," he gasps, his voice trembling with need. “Let me touch you, please. I wa- I need to touch you."

Spencer's hips lift involuntarily, seeking friction against the soft flesh of your thigh. His fingers curl into fists, nails digging into his palms as he struggles against the restraints, yearning to wrap his arms around you and lose himself in your embrace.

"I'll do anything, please," he vows, his words dripping with sincerity and desire.

It doesn’t take much more begging for you to give into his pleads.

The moment your lips meet his, Spencer surrenders to the intense passion, kissing you back with equal fervor. His hands, still bound, can't reciprocate physically, but his entire being leans into you, craving closer contact.

As you grind against his rigid length, Spencer moans into the kiss, the sensation of your heated core rubbing against his aching cock sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. His hips buck instinctively, seeking more friction, more pressure.

Breaking the kiss, Spencer pants heavily, his hazel eyes glazed with lust.

“Fuck... I want you so badly," he admits, his voice ragged with desire. “Please, I need to be inside you."

Instead of speaking, you respond by unlocking the handcuffs. Thankfully since they are just a prop, they are easy to remove and don’t require a key.

Spencer is surprised and almost embarrassed by how easily they were removed, but he has no time to dwell on that as you begin lining him up with your entrance.

With the restraints gone, Spencer's hands immediately find purchase on your waist, gripping you tightly as he feels the head of his cock notch against your slick entrance. His breathing hitches, anticipation coiled tight in his belly.

When you position him, aligning his thick shaft with your waiting heat, Spencer lets out a low groan, his hips surging forward of their own accord. With a smooth, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, a guttural moan escaping him at the exquisite feeling of your walls clenching around his sensitive flesh.

"Ah, fuck yes..." Spencer gasps, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he savors the sensation of being fully embedded within you. “You feel so good.”

You can’t help the pornographic moan that escapes your throat as Spencer bottoms out. You are still as you both get use to the filling of him inside of you.

“Spencer,” You whimper, “you feel so fucking good inside of me.”

Spencer's eyes flutter shut as you start to move, your inner muscles massaging his cock in a delicious rhythm. The slow, deliberate pace allows him to savor every inch of your warmth enveloping him.

"Yes! oh God! just like that," he encourages, his voice strained with pleasure. “You're so tight, so perfect... Fuck!"

His hands slide down to grip your ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh as he begins to match your movements, thrusting in sync with your rolling hips. Each stroke sends sparks of bliss shooting up his spine, intensifying the building pressure in his groin.

"More, please...” Spencer pleads, his thrusts growing more urgent as he chases his own release.

You grant his wishes as you nestle your head into his neck, sucking softly on the sensitive skin just below his ear.

Spencer groans loudly in response. The sudden increase in tempo, coupled with the sensations of your mouth on his neck, sends him hurtling towards the edge. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as he pistons in and out of your throbbing heat, driven by nothing but primal urges.

"Oh, shit... right there, just like that!" he grunts, his hand moving from your ass to rub rough circles over your clit. "I'm going to... Oh fuck!”

With a final, powerful thrust, Spencer hits his peak, his cock pulsating as it spills hot cum deep inside you. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him, his vision blurring as he rides out his orgasm.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish, your body tenses above Spencer as he sloppily thrusts into you, riding out the remainder of your orgasms.

As the last tremors of your orgasms subside, You both collapse onto the couch, panting heavily as you try and catch your breath, your sweat-dampened skin pressing intimately against one another.

"That was… incredible," he manages to say, his voice hoarse from exertion. "You're amazing."

You carefully remove his softening member from your spent body. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I never want this night to end," he confesses, his tone sincere and vulnerable. "But I know we should probably get cleaned up and back to reality soon.”

“Yeah, I need to be on the bus heading to New York in a few hours,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of disappointment at the thought of possibly never seeing Spencer again.

A pang of disappointment and longing shoots through Spencer at the mention of your impending departure. He knows their whirlwind encounter can't possibly lead to anything long-term, given the vast differences in their lives, but that doesn't diminish the strong connection he feels.

"I understand," he says quietly, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. "Well, um, if you’re ever back in town, I’d love to maybe get coffee together.”

Spencer's eyes search yours, hoping to find some glimmer of agreement, even as he anticipates the likely rejection. It's a fragile thread, but it's all he has to cling to as he faces the prospect of saying goodbye.

“I’d love too,” you smiled, brushing some of the hair that had gotten stuck to his sweaty forehead.

Spencer returned your smile as he got dressed and headed for the door.

“Wait!” You shouted, causing Spencer’s head to whip back around.

“You almost forgot these,” you say, handing him the fuzzy pink handcuffs. He chuckles and tucks them into his pocket before disappearing out the door.

[channiesbakery]

study session —

prompt / request — “go on, baby. ride my thigh.” + “people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

pairing — reader + college fwb!hoshi

word count — 617

genre — smut [thigh riding]

when you and soonyoung were paired up for a project in one of your lectures, you never thought it’d lead to you becoming friends with benefits.

and you definitely didn’t think he was as needy as he is. soonyoung was never shy about letting you know how needy he was or how badly he needed you.

he never hesitated to tease you with filthy messages and photos during your lectures or to send you a “you up?” text at night. of course, you wanted him just as bad so you always responded.

but with midterms coming up, the two of you hadn’t been able to see each other. when soonyoung asked you to come over tonight, you told him you were busy studying and never got a response back.

twenty minutes later, he’s standing outside your apartment with his backpack and two coffees.

“i figured we could use some caffeine if we’re gonna be up all night studying. or you know, other activities,” soonyoung grins when you open the door.

“if you’re gonna stay over, then all we’re doing is studying,” you say, thanking him for the coffee before letting him set up his study materials in your living room.

surprisingly, you do get a lot of studying done. but your productive study session only lasts so long, until soonyoung decides that he’s done enough studying for the night, switching over to annoying you instead.

“i really need to finish this chapter,” you sigh when he moved to sit beside you. “you’ve done so much studying, baby. take a break,” he mumbles against your cheek.

“i can’t–” “you can. the exam’s not for another two weeks,” he argues, massaging your shoulders. “but i really need to–” he cuts you off again, taking your flash cards from your hands.

“i’ll quiz you on these. if you get most correct, you take a break. if not, i’ll help you study some more,” soonyoung says and you take the offer, letting him quiz you.

much to soonyoung’s delight, you get almost all the questions right. “okay but i really need to study the concepts for the ones i missed–” you start.

“nope. a deal’s a deal, baby. time for a break,” he pulls you to straddle his lap. “haven’t done this in weeks, i missed you,” he mumbled before kissing you.

as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you missed him too. you subconsciously start grinding against his lap as you lazily made out.

he shifts your position so you straddle his thigh. “c’mon, ride my thigh baby,” he mumbles against your lips.

soonyoung rests his hands on your hips as you grind against his thigh. “that’s it, good girl,” he praises.

you grip his shoulders, moving your hips faster as you try to find the right rhythm but you can’t. “soonie,” you whimper in his ear and he just chuckles.

“aw, poor baby needs my help?” he teases, his hold on your hips tightening. he guides your hips along his thigh as you whimper against his neck.

your thighs tremble around his as you reach your high. you relax against his chest as he loosens his grip on your hips, slowing you to a stop.

“so… i guess we should get back to studying?” soonyoung teases. “oh no. you’re gonna take me to my room and finish what you started,” you jab a finger against his chest.

“demanding and bossy. i like it.” he hums before kissing you. “and maybe i like you too,” he mumbles against your lips.

“careful there soonie, i thought we were just friends?” you tease, reminding him of your arrangement.

“people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

[pitchsidestories]

the favourite II Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2349

a/n: hi everyone, this oneshot is a longer one, so get cozy. <3

The golden hour has just begun in the beautiful city of Barcelona, you were finally done with correcting your student’s paper, so you were able to continue reading the book on the sofa, which was the perfect way to clock off of work in your opinion.

The happy mood slightly shifted when you thought back to the phone call you had with your girlfriend earlier that day. Aitana told you she was injured and that she was coming back home this evening.

You felt guilty, because partly you were happy about the fact that your lover was about to return to you, this year has been a lot for her work wise, and you rarely got time to spend together as a couple, apart from you trying to be there in the stands at every home game or final. It didn’t surprise you that the midfielder’s body was exhausted from all of this.

On the other hand, Aitana loved playing football so much, so it would be hard to not see her doing what she was so passionate about. You realized reading at this point was impossible, there were too many thoughts running through your mind.

“Hola, mi amor.”, you greeted her warmly, as you heard her opening the front door.

“Hola.”, the football player replied in a cheerful tone which tried to hide the disappointment the brunette felt.

Immediately you jumped off the sofa to give her a much-needed hug. “How are you? I know you had to leave national team camp early.”

“It’s nothing too bad, don’t worry.”, Aitana reassured you with a weak smile on her lips.

“But I do worry a little.”, you admitted concerned while running a hand through your girlfriends open hair, something you knew she liked, because it had a soothing effect on her.

You caught her looking at the papers which were still laying on your kitchen table, so you added quickly:” Sorry, I’ll take those to my office.”

“No, it’s fine. Stay, you’re busy.”, the midfielder slowly shook her head.

“I’m actually done with going through them. My students wrote about their role models, and I spotted some familiar names quite a few times.”, you remembered, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Oh really? Like whose names?”, Aitana looked up curiously.

“Like Patri, Alexia, Salma, but you’ve been mentioned the most. Wait-”, you counted them off on your fingers. You proudly showed your girlfriend the texts which were about her.

“I didn’t know your students cared so much about football, specifically women’s football.”, the midfielder muttered amazed, while devouring the handwritten pages.

“I know, the view definitely changed in recent years… Remember when we were at school and no one seemed to care about women’s football?”, you asked, thinking back to the time when you and Aitana met for the first time. You were best friends in school, always stuck together. Until things changed in your teenage years.

Unhappily, your girlfriend put the papers back on the table: “They always said that we can’t play with the boys.”

“Or that we would never be as good as them.“, you added. “Which I was okay with because I always preferred books over balls, but I admired you for not listening to these voices.”

You had loved a good football match when you were younger, but you never had the same burning desire to play that Aitana possessed.

“That’s all I ever wanted to do, kick a ball around.”, Aitana shrugged and even though a lot had changed since your school days, you felt reminded of the younger Aitana. The quiet girl that defiantly fought for her right to play football.

You smiled softly: “I know, and it got you very far.”

“I never knew it would.”, Aitana replied, clearly lost in her own thoughts about her career.

“But it did.” You took a deep breath. The idea that had been floating around your head since you read the papers started to take form on the tip of your tongue. “Could you do me a favour?”

“Sure, which one?”, your girlfriend answered quickly.

“Maybe you could visit my class to talk a bit about your life as a football player? It would mean the world to them. You’re clearly one of their favorites.” You nodded in the direction of the pages piled on the table.

Aitana did not answer. She stared at you speechlessly until she found her voice a second later: “Your students want to see… me?”

She looked so surprised that you had to bite back a laugh. “Yes, they would love that.”

Aitana beamed: “Sure. Of course I’m coming.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You leaned over for a quick kiss: “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

“But for now…”

Your girlfriend raised her eyebrows in expectancy: “Yes?”

“Cuddles?”, you asked innocently, ready to wrap your arms around her.

“Please.”, she smiled. You threw yourself against her body, tightly hugging her.

Laughing, Aitana let herself fall backwards against the armrest of the sofa so you could lay on top of her.

She started to run her fingers across your back: “This is nice.”

Your girlfriend paused for a moment, before adding with a smirk on her lips:” But not as comfortable as in our bed.”

“You’re right let’s go to our bedroom.”, you agreed as you helped her getting into a standing position.

“Coming.”, Aitana answered. With a soft sigh the midfielder landed on your double bed.

“This is so much better.”, she declared, eyes closed. The bedding felt pleasantly cool underneath her body while you laid down next to her.  

“Perfect.”, you mumbled. Grinning you continued:” Do you want me to read out to you a little?”

“Sure.”, the football player nodded, there was nothing in the world she found more soothing than listening to your voice.

“Okay.”, you happily obliged to it. After a couple of pages, you realized that your girlfriend was becoming sleepy. Quietly you put your book on the nightstand.

“Sleep well, Tana.”

“Night.”, Aitana whispered before inevitably sleep took it’s hold over her.

In the mornings you were always the first of you two to get up, as you needed to be ready for school. Much to your own surprise you realized that the midfielder was awake too:” Good morning.”

“Morning, amor.”, she replied, before placing a sweet kiss to your mouth.

“You know that you can still stay in bed, right?”, you muttered blushing. After all those years the brunette still had that effect on you.

“I know, but I couldn’t sleep anymore.”, Aitana admitted smiling sheepishly.

“I guess I’ll make two cups of coffees this morning.”, you remarked.

“Please.”, your girlfriend responded. When the dark-haired woman was holding the warm drink in her hand, she thanked you with another kiss.

“You’re welcome.”, you replied, enjoying one of the rare mornings you both had together.

You wished you could enjoy that moment for a little bit longer but looking at the clock on the wall you cursed under your breath:” Oh shit, I need to go!”

“Have fun. I’ll see you later.”, Aitana winked at you.

“Bye.”, you blew her a kiss, before making your way out of your home, ready for another day with your classes which were all dear to your heart.

The day arrived when Aitana was about to meet them for a lesson, you beamed excited at her:” Ready, love?”

“Ready.”, she nodded, your girlfriend was glad to have some distraction from her injury for at least the upcoming two hours. For a second you pressed her hand encouragingly, before leading her into the classroom.

“Good morning, everyone. Today we’ve a very special guest.”, you announced cheerfully.

A young girl with blonde hair called Imma sat in the front row and gasped audibly: “Oh my god, Aitana!“

She stared at the football player with widened eyes.

Your girlfriend smiled politely before introducing herself: “Hi, I’m Aitana Bonmatí. I’m a football player for FC Barcelona.“

“Can we ask her some questions?“, Jordi asked curiously. You knew that the lanky boy had vast interest in all kinds of football, no matter if the players were male or female.

You nodded, watching as his eyes sparkled in excitement: “Sure, that’s why she came.“

“Go ahead.“, Aitana prompted, trying to get the children to ask questions.

Imma raised her hand hesitantly: “From where do you know, Miss y/l/n?“

Your girlfriends gaze subconsciously drifted into your direction. You shared a smile for a split second.

With an eye-roll, Jordi complained: “That’s such a boring question, Imma!“

“I think that’s a very good question. We went to school together years ago.“, Aitana answered the question truthfully.

Jordi snorted: “Was she reading books back then too?“

You had to stop yourself from telling him, once again that reading was not only good for them but also a lot of fun. You tried to encourage your class to read every chance they got.

Before you could say anything, Aitana grinned: “Oh yes. She always loved books.“

“But I can play a bit too.“, you added innocently.

“Yeah. She’s pretty good.“, your girlfriend had to agree.

For once, Jordi was silent, looking from you to Aitana and back. A challenging smile appeared on his face: “We need to see that after class. But how did it feel to win the Ballon d’Or?“

“Amazing. It was a great honour but I couldn’t have done it without my team.“

“And you also won the Champions League!“, a red-haired girl interrupted with a big toothy grin.

“Yes, that was amazing too.“, the football player nodded.

Julias cheeks turned almost as red as her hair from exhilaration: “So cool!“

“I’m lucky to have such a great team around me.“, you heard Aitana say and you almost grimaced at how humble she was in front of your students.

Julia immediately followed with the next question, not allowing your girlfriend a break: “Do you have a favourite teammate? And is it Rolfö?“

Aitana laughed, surprised by the question: “I have a lot of favourite teammates. And Frido is one of them. She’s great, very sweet.“

“Like a team mum?“, Imma piped up.

“A bit, yes.“

“That’s cute.“, Imma commented happily.

“But we have a lot of people who can step up as team mums.“, the midfielder continued.

“Aitana, how’s your injury?”, Jordi changed the subject to a more serious one.

“It’s not too bad. They just wanted to be careful, so it doesn’t get worse.”, the midfielder waved it off in a reassuring way.

“Oh, good.”, he sighed relieved.

 “So now I’m here and can hang out with you guys.”, Aitana clapped enthusiastically her hands.

“Exactly.”, you smiled proudly at her.  

“Sorry, did you want to continue, amor?”, your girlfriend looked at you expectantly.

“No, I just wanted to say that the class is ending soon.”, you shook your head.

“Any more questions?”, the football player turned her attention to your students again.

“Can we play now?”, Jordi asked her innocently.

“Of course. Let’s go and play some football.”, Aitana agreed, her eyes mirroring the excitement of the little boy who was very thrilled to play with a Barcelona player.

On her way out, she couldn’t help but to tease you in front of the children:” Let’s see how good your teacher still is.”

“I’ll show you!”, you laughed.

“Prove it.”, the midfielder gave you a playful challenging look.

One of your students was handing you the football, so you did one of the football tricks you still knew before kicking it into the empty goal, making the boys and girls erupt into a loud cheer.

“See? She didn’t forget anything.”, Aitana said, her voice full of admiration.

“Wow.”, Jordi followed your moves with the football amazed.

“Not, bad, right?”, Aitana questioned him amused.

“Not as good as you are though.”, you whispered into her ear.

“Oh, if you got paid to play football all day, you’d also be good.”, she stated firmly.

“Yes, but I love my job, just look at their eyes.”, you replied, your girlfriend did what you asked her to do. The girls and boys faces lit up while playing football in front of one of their idols.

Afterwards she looked back at you in adoration: “I only must look in your eyes. You were made to work with children. They adore you.”

You weren’t even a big Taylor Swift fan, but your friends and the older students were and there was a line in one of her songs, which you quietly sung to her, before you looped the ball over the midfielder:” You know how to ball, I know Aristotle.”

“Excuse me?! What was that?!”, Aitana’s mouth fell wide open.

“I don’t know how I did it either!”, you confessed.

“That was impressive as hell!”, Jordi told you.

With sparkling eyes, Imma demanded: “Do it again!“

“Yes, do it again.“, Aitana smirked.

“Like this?“, you asked before trying to play the ball over the worlds best female footballer again. This time, you were less lucky and the ball came at the perfect height for Aitana to easily head it back to you.

“Oh no, it didn’t work.“ Julia sounded slightly disappointed.

You shrugged, trying to use the opportunity to teach your students a valuable lesson: “The good thing is, one can always try again.“

Aitana instead winked at them: “Don’t worry, I’ll teach her at home.“

Imma frowned in confusion: “At home? Do you two live together?“

“Are you stupid? She called her amor earlier!“, Jordi groaned.

The smaller girls eyes widened: “She did?“

“Yes!“

Aitana smiled at you, subtly linking your pinkies together: “She’s my best friend but also my girlfriend.“

“Oh.“ Julia made a delighted sound.

Jordi rolled his eyes: “They love each other, it’s so obvious, girls.“

And then he was back to kicking the ball around. Julia and Imma quickly chased after him, trying to get the ball.

You and your girlfriend stood in comfortable silence, still holding hands and watching the children run around you.

In this moment you were hit with the realization that this was exactly all you ever wanted from life.

[imfinereallyy]

“The demon is back.” Eddie pokes into Steve’s side to wake him up.

“Babe, please go back to sleep.” Steve shoves his face into the pillow, making his voice muffled.

“Steeeeve.” Eddie whines, “It’s really there I swear this time. And I locked the door so I know it’s the demon again. Nothing else can get inside.”

“Eddie.” Steve squishes his face even deeper into the mattress. “You do this at least once a week. I love you; I do. But I never look because there is no demon. And every morning, you wake up fine. So please, go back to sleep.”

“What if I promise never to mention it again if it’s not really there? Will you look then?” This time Eddie’s voice wavers, his actual terror showing.

Steve sighs and shifts his head to look at Eddie, “This is really freaking you out, huh?” He says it kindly. Steve can tell this is serious to Eddie. So even if he doesn’t believe it, Eddie does. And what’s important to Eddie is important to Steve.

Eddie nods back furiously.

“Okay, I’ll look.” Steve shifts his head towards the other side, where the chair by the window sits. There, sitting in that corner is a dark shadowy figure. “Oh.”

“See! I told you! Demon! Oh god, it’s gonna get us.” Eddie throws his hands up. Even though he’s terrified, he’s accepted defeat.

“No.” Steve says calmly. “It’s just El.”

Eddie pauses his rant, “What?”

“It’s just El. In the corner. She does that sometimes, watches people she cares about until she falls asleep. To make sure they’re safe.” Steve looks at Eddie.

“The door was locked! How are you so calm about one of the kids just watching us at night?”

“Honey, she has mind powers. I don’t think a flimsy lock from Home Depot is going to stop her.” Steve deadpans before shrugging, “And it’s El. She could ask me to kill a man, and I probably wouldn’t even ask questions.”

“What if she asked you to kill me?”

“I’d be conflicted.”

“I want to be mad, but honestly I think I’d hand you the knife.” Eddie sighs, looking down at Steve.

Steve scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t stab you. I’d obviously sneak some kind of poison into your honeycombs. Way less messy.”

Eddie goes back to nearly shouting, “Why have you thought about this?!”

“Honestly, I have a lot of intrusive thoughts. I just don’t speak them out loud.”

Despite the fact they are actively talking about his murder, Eddie can’t help but get all gooey with Steve in their bed. “Is this why you don’t get mad when I think aloud? Another reason why you just get me. Adding that tally to the ‘why we are great together’ column.”

“Yes, we’re pretty amazing. Can we go back to sleep now?” Steve smiles.

“Yes—wait, no.” Eddie corrects himself, getting himself back on track. He loves this man, but he is a sneaky little minx. “Why did El never say anything? I mean, this is not the first time I accused her of being a demon. Hell, we’ve been talking for literally five minutes, and she still hasn’t said anything. Also, what if she walked in on us doing, ya know, adult stuff?” Eddie blushes at the end. He’s acting like he hasn’t been whispering way worse things in Steve’s ear every night.

“First off, she won’t walk in on that. Apparently Max taught her about happy screams a long time ago.”

“Gross.”

“Yeaaa. Second, I’m pretty sure she’s asleep right now.”

Huh, now that Eddie thinks about it, he does hear soft little snores. Which is weird since neither he nor Steve snores, and they are both, ya know, awake.

“And I don’t think El speaking in a dark corner would have helped your fears. Like imagine just hear her soft “Hello” at 2 a.m.” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“I—okay I got nothing.”

“Fantastic can we go back to sleep now?”

Eddie gives one last shout, “You’re not going to stop her?”

“Are you going to tell her no? And make her worry?”

Eddie slinks down into the covers, “...no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Eddie curves his body into Steve’s, seeking him out. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, securing him to his chest. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Steve hums. “Anything for you baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Eddie kisses Steve lightly.

“I love you both as well.” El’s voice suddenly speaks into the silent room.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie screams.

Steve can’t help the giggles that come out of him. He tries to smother them into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie can’t find it in himself to be mad.

———

some people seemed interested in more el + Steve sibling energy. And they are a sibling-like duo I love. So here’s a little something but more steddie involved. I think all three of their relationship would be very sweet. Both Eddie and Steve would protect el. I hope you enjoyed :)

[gojoidyll]

Imagine taking Katheryne's place for the day in Liyue, and when the traveler comes by for a new commission they are surprised to see you. You, on the other hand, aren't surprised to see them as you expected for them to come by. However, what you didn't expect was to see someone who doesn't belong.

He was clad in expensive looking attire, the contrast of blues and whites matching perfectly with his pale complexion and long silver hair. His eyes were mesmerizing too. They reminded you much of your dear friend Zhongli's eyes despite the major difference in color.

"Oh, y/n, we didn't expect to see you here today! Where's Katheryne?"

"Hello Paimon, Traveler, Katheryne is out for the day and a new commission popped up asking for anyone who was free to take her place. The mora is good, so I decided to take up the job since I don't have anything else to do."

"Oohhh, that makes sense," Paimon answered.

You smiled before directing your attention to their tall friend, "may I ask who this is?"

"This Neuvillette," Paimon introduced with an air of arrogance in her voice, "he's the chief justice of Fontaine! Pretty cool, huh?"

You bowed to Neuvillette, "it's nice to meet you sir."

"No, the pleasure is mine... your name is y/n, correct? The traveler and Paimon talk a lot about you. They were actually saying how they wanted me to meet you at some point."

Before you could say anything, you felt a tug on your sleeve, "miss y/n, your shift is over."

Nodding you turn back to the three before you, "well, as you can tell, since I'm done working for the day, why don't I tag along? That is, if it's alright."

Meeting Neuvillette was definitely interesting. He was both kind and courteous. A true gentleman. Not to mention that you quite like how he spoke to you. His voice was nice, smooth, and definitely easy on the ears. And just as he liked talking about Fontaine, he also liked listening to you.

Most of the time when you hung out with the traveler and Paimon, Paimon was usually the one who dominated the conversation (not that you minded, you weren't much of a talker to begin with), so being the center of attention in a conversation for once definitely made you nervous. Especially when such a handsome and refined man was giving such a attention.

And later you would fail to notice how Paimon and the traveler would give each other a high-five before leaving both you and Neuvillette to talk amongst yourselves. Neuvillette noticed, however, but decided to not say anything.

"You know Miss y/n," Neuvillette started but you gently cut him off, "y/n is fine."

"Y/n," he amended with a smile, "I've actually been quite the fan of yours for some time. And truthfully, it was I who asked the traveler to meet you."

As it turns out, you were actually a performer of sorts. Your voice was something that everyone could admire for hours on end. But at some point you decided to take a break. The life of an adventurer too good to pass up. (You did promise yourself to sing again someday, but for now, you were on a ... vacation of sorts.)

"You- you're a fan of mine?"

"Yes, I always enjoyed your performances when you would grace Fontaine with your voice. And when I heard you had went on break, I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to hear you again."

Your face felt hot all of sudden, it wasn't everyday that such a gorgeous man showered you in such praises. You felt him grab your hand as he stopped walking to look at you.

"Y/n, I-"

"Am i interrupting something?"

You looked to see who it was and immediately broke out into a bright smile, "Mr. Zhongli!"

You gently let go of Neuvillette's hand before walking up to your friend to give him a hug, "I haven't seen you in awhile! Where on Teyvat have you been?"

"Just traveling my dear, nothing to worry about."

As you pulled away to introduce Zhongli to Neuvillette, you didn't notice how the air got thicker and the area more tense than what it was.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that you didn't know that Zhongli is actually the geo Archon? Yeah...

Having two dragons fight over you is quite nice, though.

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 99% texts. established relationships? the most basic plot idea everrrr bc I watched The Idea Of You before watching a playoffs match. PART 1. 3.5k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I had just gotten home and sprawled out on my apartment's couch, letting Netflix autoplay something random after finishing Brooklyn Nine-Nine again. My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024Today, 3:16 PM UNKNOWN: Alley said she tried to call you, text me when you're on the way to the rink.

My phone buzzed again.

Today, 3:42 PM UNKNOWN: Steph?

Today, 4:01 PM UNKNOWN: Are you on your way or not?

I glanced at my phone, seeing another message from the unknown number. Smirking slightly, typing a quick response.

ME: Not Steph, good luck finding your girlfriend.

I tossed my phone aside and settled deeper into the couch, trying to distract myself from the uninspired short story I had been working on. Hours passed, and I still hadn’t made any progress. The story was just another tall tale that could easily end with "and then I woke up," and at this rate, it might.

My phone buzzed again, and I groaned before reaching for it.

Today, 12:19 AM UNKNOWN: Gross. I was looking for my sister.

I sighed, feeling slightly amused.

ME: Okay? Hope you found her. UNKNOWN: I'm sorry to have bothered you, I realise the area code is wrong.

With nothing better to do, I found myself replying, curiosity piqued.

ME: 212, Manhattan. Nice area, rich boy charm. UNKNOWN: Not really rich, or much charm. But boy, yes. 619, where's that? ME: San Diego.

A pause. I put my phone down, trying to focus back on my assignment, but the ping of a new message distracted me.

UNKNOWN: I'm guessing you're just as bored as I am right now. ME: Definitely bored, that is correct. UNKNOWN: So San Diego, what’s keeping you awake that’s so boring? ME: Nothing much, Manhattan. Just assignments. But it’s only 12:30 here, isn’t it 3 AM in NY? UNKNOWN: That would be correct. ME: Then what’s keeping YOU awake? UNKNOWN: Won my hockey game, went to celebrate, and now I’m just sitting here.

I chuckled, intrigued by the late-night conversation.

ME: Hockey? Do you play for a college team or just for fun?

There was a long pause, a stark contrast to the quick replies earlier.

MANHATTAN: Yeah, I do college hockey. ME: Nice, what position? I don’t know LOTS about hockey or anything, but I'm friends with some guys on the SDSU team. MANHATTAN: Haha, right wing. But really, I just rough people up 💪 ME: Oh cool! (no clue what a right wing does) MANHATTAN: Then what position does your boyfriend play?

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the conversation shift.

ME: I never said that word. MANHATTAN: And I'm just checking. You are a girl, right? I’m not about to hit on a 50-year-old man.

I laughed, surprised by his forwardness.

ME: You’re about to hit on me? Are you meant to tell me that? MANHATTAN: Probably not, but I had a few drinks a bit ago so I can blame it on the alcohol if it goes wrong. ME: Yes, I am a girl. MANHATTAN: Wonderful, now that I know you're not trying to lure me into your mother's basement so you can use my skin as your new rug, can I get your name?

I smirked, enjoying the playful tone.

ME: Whoa, never said anything about NOT making a new rug. I kind of like the whole Manhattan & San Diego anonymous thing we have happening. MANHATTAN: Hmm, I guess so. A secret identity might not be the best move though. ME: Are you sure you want to risk it? Might say something regrettable since it’s 4 AM for you now. MANHATTAN: But it's only 1 AM for you, so it’s a risk I’ll take ;)

I smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

ME: Exactly how many strangers do you text like this? MANHATTAN: If I say only 1 will that make you feel special? ME: So you just go around contacting random numbers in hopes they’re girls your age so you can try to knock their socks off? MANHATTAN: You catch on fast, San Diego.

I rubbed my eyes, getting off the couch, typing as I walked through my small apartment. I passed my roommate’s bedroom, noticing her snoring with her phone still looping the last TikTok she’d been watching.

As I reached my room, I took off my hoodie and left my phone on my bed, watching for the next message.

ME: So, tell me about your hockey match. MANHATTAN: Well… I actually got ejected so I didn’t do much. ME: Ahh, a ruffian. MANHATTAN: All I did was elbow a guy! ME: In the face? MANHATTAN: No comment. ME: While going really fast on knife shoes? MANHATTAN: I said no comment, San Diego 😠😠 But yes. I may have a little notoriety for… enforcing. ME: How many fights does college hockey have? Oh wow. MANHATTAN: I think that's enough of my sports career. Tell me about you. ME: About me? MANHATTAN: I want to know about you. I mean it, tell me something.

I hesitated, then smiled.

ME: Um, I can't think of anything… I just got into bed. MANHATTAN: Then you should go, San Diego, get some rest. Nice chatting with you (and I'll text you later in the day if that's alright). ME: Bye, Manhattan 👋 (and I wouldn't be opposed).

I placed my phone on the nightstand, my thoughts lingering on the unexpected connection as I drifted off to sleep.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I woke up to a new text message, my groggy eyes struggling to adjust to the brightness of my phone screen.

Wednesday, March 13, 2024today 10:32am MANHATTAN: Morning, San Diego! Did you sleep well?

I smiled at the message, feeling a little flutter in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to actually text me again, but here he was.

ME: Morning! I did, thanks 😊 How about you? Finally got some sleep after your 4 am texting spree? MANHATTAN: Eventually, yeah. Slept in a bit, but now I’m back at it. MANHATTAN: Classes and all that. ME: Fun times… What’s your major? MANHATTAN: Business. It’s alright, but hockey’s the real passion. You? ME: English, hence my very exciting letter-writing assignment 🙄 MANHATTAN: Ah, right. The one you’re totally not procrastinating on. ME: Exactly! I’m just waiting for inspiration to hit. MANHATTAN: Maybe I can help with that.

I raised an eyebrow at the screen, intrigued.

ME: Oh yeah? You’re a secret writing genius, Mr. Hockey? MANHATTAN: Hardly. But I’m good at roughing up boring ideas. Give me a shot. What’s the assignment again? ME: I have to write a long letter. Could be to anyone about anything… It's supposed to show off my writing skills. MANHATTAN: How about a letter to a stranger? Like some random person you met by mistake… 👀

I laughed, seeing where he was going with this.

ME: Sounds like something I’d do. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. MANHATTAN: If you need material, I can keep sending you nonsense texts. You know, for inspiration. ME: Careful, I might just put all your deepest, darkest secrets into my assignment. MANHATTAN: Bold of you to assume I have any secrets, San Diego. ME: Everyone has secrets, Manhattan.

There was a pause before he responded, the three little dots appearing and disappearing a few times. I wondered what he was thinking or if I’d said something to make him hesitate.

MANHATTAN: Guess you’ll have to keep talking to me to find out 😉 ME: Smooth. Real smooth. MANHATTAN: It’s part of my so-called charm. So, what’s your day looking like? ME: Not much, honestly. Maybe I’ll hit the library, try to get some work done. MANHATTAN: Or you could do something fun instead. Life’s too short to spend all day in the library. ME: Fun? What do you suggest? MANHATTAN: Well, if you were in Manhattan, I’d say we go skating. But since you’re all the way over there… What do people even do for fun in San Diego? ME: I could go to the beach… but it’s not really the best weather for it today. MANHATTAN: Rainy? ME: Just cloudy, kind of chilly. The ocean looks a bit gloomy when it’s like this. MANHATTAN: Gloomy beaches, sounds like a whole vibe. Maybe that’s your inspiration. A letter to the ocean or something. ME: You really think a letter to the ocean will get me a passing grade? MANHATTAN: If you write it well enough, why not? Make it all deep and meaningful. Professors eat that stuff up. ME: Haha, I’ll think about it. Anyway, what about you? Any big plans? MANHATTAN: Just practice later, then probably hanging out with the team. Nothing too exciting. ME: Sounds like a solid day. Try not to get ejected this time. MANHATTAN: No promises. Gotta keep my reputation, you know? ME: Right, the tough guy. I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: But I’m a softie at heart, San Diego. Don’t let the hockey fool you. ME: Noted. Maybe I’ll write that in my letter. “To the boy who’s tough on the ice but soft underneath…” MANHATTAN: Now you’re getting it. Make me sound mysterious. ME: Mysterious, huh? I’ll see what I can do.

I was grinning now, the banter flowing easily between us. There was something about this random stranger that made me feel lighter, like maybe today wasn’t going to be so dull after all.

ME: Alright, I should actually get ready if I’m going to do anything productive today. But thanks for the distraction, Manhattan. MANHATTAN: Anytime, San Diego. I’ll text you later? ME: Looking forward to it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I was curled up on my couch, a mug of tea warming my hands as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone. The past month had flown by, and my unexpected friendship with 'Manhattan' had become a regular part of my routine. We’d been texting nearly every day, sharing snippets of our lives, random thoughts, and plenty of playful banter. But lately, something had shifted—his messages had taken on a more flirty tone, and, honestly, I didn’t mind it.

My phone buzzed, and I smiled when his contact name popped up on the screen.

Friday, April 12, 2024today 8:45pm MANHATTAN: What’s up, San Diego? Missing me yet?

I couldn’t help but grin at his words. He’d been dropping little hints like this more and more, and each time, it sent a little thrill through me.

ME: Why would I miss you? We just talked this morning 😏 MANHATTAN: I don’t know, you tell me. Maybe you’re secretly counting down the hours until you hear from me again. ME: Oh, totally. I’m just sitting here pining away. MANHATTAN: Knew it. You can’t resist my charm. ME: Your ego is something else, you know that? MANHATTAN: Only because you feed it. Anyway, what’s the plan for tonight? Any hot dates?

I felt a little flutter in my chest at the question, even though I knew he was probably just teasing.

ME: Just me, myself, and I tonight. Super exciting. MANHATTAN: That’s a shame. If I were in San Diego, I’d take you out somewhere nice. ME: Oh yeah? Where would you take me, Mr. Big City? MANHATTAN: Somewhere with a view, good food, and even better company. ME: Wow, smooth talker. Do you use this line on all the girls? MANHATTAN: Only the ones who accidentally text me back 😉

I laughed, shaking my head at his response.

ME: Lucky me, I guess. MANHATTAN: I think I’m the lucky one here.

I paused, reading the message again, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. There it was again—that flirty edge that had been creeping into his texts lately. And I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it.

ME: Is that so? MANHATTAN: Definitely. How many girls are cool enough to joke about turning me into a rug and then end up being someone I actually want to talk to every day? ME: Fair point. I’m one of a kind. MANHATTAN: That you are. So, since I’m not there to take you out, what are you doing to entertain yourself? ME: I’m just relaxing, maybe watching a movie later. Nothing too crazy. MANHATTAN: Sounds cozy. I’d offer to keep you company, but I’m not sure you’re ready to handle my charming self in person. ME: Oh, I’m sure I could handle you just fine. MANHATTAN: Careful, San Diego. I might take that as a challenge.

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves at his boldness. This was definitely new territory, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying it.

ME: Maybe I want you to.

There was a pause, and I watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, wondering what was going through his mind. My heart raced in anticipation, unsure of what to expect next. Then, my phone buzzed again—not with a message, but with a photo.

I opened it and stared at the image for a moment, a smile tugging at my lips. He was standing in what looked like a hallway, wearing a worn white T-shirt and a Yankees baseball cap. His hair was a little long, curling out from under the cap, and he had a faint mustache that gave him a laid-back, almost mischievous look. His smile was subtle but warm, like he wasn’t quite sure what to expect either.

MANHATTAN: Figured it’s only fair you see who you’re talking to.

I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. He was more than I’d imagined—there was something so genuine and relaxed about him, and that easy confidence I’d sensed in our conversations was clearly just a part of who he was.

ME: Not bad, Manhattan. Not bad at all. MANHATTAN: Glad you approve. Now, your turn?

I felt a rush of nerves as I realized he was asking for a photo in return. This felt like a big step—more real than anything we’d done before. But there was also something exciting about it, about finally showing him who I was after all this time.

I took a deep breath, then snapped a quick selfie, trying to capture something that felt natural but not too staged. I hesitated only for a second before hitting send, my heart pounding as I waited for his reaction.

ME: Alright, but don’t judge too harshly.

My phone buzzed almost immediately after I sent the photo. I could practically feel my pulse in my ears as I watched the screen, waiting for his response. It didn’t take long.

MANHATTAN: Wow.

I bit my lip, a small smile creeping onto my face. Just one word, but it was enough to make my stomach flip.

ME: "Wow" good, or "wow" bad? MANHATTAN: Definitely good. You’re beautiful, San Diego. I wasn’t prepared for that.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words. There was something different about receiving a compliment from someone who’d only known me through words until now—someone who hadn’t seen my face but still wanted to know more about me.

ME: You’re just saying that. MANHATTAN: I’m really not. I mean it. I didn’t expect this whole wrong-number thing to turn into something like this, but I’m glad it did. ME: Me too. It’s been… nice, talking to you. Getting to know you. MANHATTAN: More than nice, if you ask me. But now that I’ve seen you, I kind of want to see more of you.

My heart skipped a beat at that. The idea of him wanting more, even though we’d only known each other through these messages, made something flutter inside me.

ME: More of me? How so? MANHATTAN: Not in a creepy way, I promise. Just… more of your thoughts, your stories. I like hearing about your day, what you’re up to. I guess I’m just curious about you. ME: You’re making me blush over here. MANHATTAN: Good. You’ve been doing that to me since day one.

I felt my face heat up even more, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was strange how this random guy from Manhattan, who I’d never even met, could make me feel this way.

ME: Well, if you’re really that curious, ask away. What do you want to know? MANHATTAN: That sounds perfect. What’s your favorite book? ME: That’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite child! How would you feel if I asked you your favorite hockey team? MANHATTAN: New York Rangers. Easy. Number 1 😉 ME: Alright, I'll take your word for it. MANHATTAN: So, tell me something else. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet?

I laughed softly to myself, feeling that familiar warmth from our conversation. The idea of us just getting to know each other like this, little by little, was comforting. It felt safe and exciting all at once.

ME: I’ve always wanted to travel more. There’s a whole world out there, and I’ve only seen a tiny part of it. MANHATTAN: Where’s the first place you’d go? ME: Italy, I think. The food, the history, the art—I want to experience all of it. MANHATTAN: That sounds incredible. I’ve always wanted to see more of Europe, too. ME: Maybe one day we’ll both get there. Until then, I guess we’ll just have to keep texting about it. MANHATTAN: I’m more than okay with that, San Diego. Talking to you is the best part of my day. ME: Same here, Manhattan.

As I set my phone down, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. There was no rush, no pressure—just a growing connection with someone who was quickly becoming more than just a stranger on the other end of a text. And for now, that was more than enough.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

It had been almost a month since the night I saw Manhattan’s face for the first time, and our conversations had only gotten better since then. We talked almost every day, sharing little details about our lives, random thoughts, and sometimes just silence on the other end of the line when we were both too tired to text much. I was surprised by how close I’d grown to him, even without meeting in person.

One afternoon, I got an email from one of my professors that sent my heart racing. My university was offering a select group of students a fully-funded, three-day trip to New York City to attend a special literary conference. The idea was to network, attend workshops, and get a taste of the publishing world in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. And somehow, I’d been chosen.

As soon as I read the email, my mind went straight to Manhattan. The idea of being in the same city as him, even if I wasn’t planning on meeting up, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. But as much as I wanted to share the news with him, a different thought crossed my mind—a surprise. What if I didn’t tell him? What if I showed up in his city and surprised him with the news?

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. He’d been so open and sweet in our conversations, and I wanted to do something special. It felt like the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard, in a good way.

That evening, when I grabbed my phone to text him, I felt a little mischievous. I decided to keep the New York trip to myself for now.

Tuesday, May 2, 2024today 8:45pm ME: Hey, how’s your day going? MANHATTAN: Not bad, just finished practice. How about you? ME: Same old, same old. Classes, assignments, you know the drill. MANHATTAN: Ah, the glamorous life of a student. Anything exciting on the horizon?

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to spill the beans.

ME: Nothing too crazy. Just trying to survive this semester. MANHATTAN: You’ve got this. I believe in you, San Diego. ME: Thanks, Manhattan. I appreciate that. MANHATTAN: Anytime. So, what’s on your mind? ME: Honestly, just thinking about how much I’d love to get away for a bit. You know, escape the routine. MANHATTAN: I hear you. If you ever find yourself in need of a change of scenery, you know where to find me 😉

I smiled to myself, knowing that in just a few weeks, I would be much closer to him than he realized.

ME: I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: Good. I’d be happy to play tour guide if you ever made it to the Big Apple. ME: I’ll have to remember that. You seem like you’d be a pretty good tour guide. MANHATTAN: Oh, I am. You’d be in excellent hands.

I chuckled, the idea of actually seeing him in person lingering in the back of my mind. But for now, I decided to keep the surprise to myself.

ME: I’ll bet. Maybe one day I’ll take you up on that offer. MANHATTAN: I hope so. It would be fun.

A sense of anticipation buzzed through me. The thought of being in New York, in his city, and surprising him with my presence was exciting. It was something to look forward to, something just for me, and maybe for him too—when the time was right.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[abilouwrites]

DONT WAIT FOR THE TIDE

JUST TO DIP BOTH YOUR FEET IN

“You really wanna go on a road-trip?” I ask Buck as he throws a duffel into his Jeep and then more gently tucks my duffel next to his, I look out at the cold greys and harsh blues in the sky. The clouds threaten to launch a downpour any moment, “it’s the middle of December Buck”

“Yeah, yeah it’ll be good for us to get out of town for a while. See the coast. San Fran and Santa Cruz” He rambles, I’ve seen him rushing but he’s never been so eager to kick it before.

“Buck I lived in San Jose, I know all those places. I’ve been there before. What’s this really about?” I inquire as he opens my door and helps me in then proceeds to jump into the drivers side and we speed off.

“I just, everything at work has been so crazy lately and I just need to blow town for a little while. And I thought, why don’t I do that with my favorite lady who knows all the best spots” he reasons brushing through his loose curls as we slow at a traffic light.

“Ok..” I shrug a little; I’ve been with this man long enough to know when to push and when to not, “how’s Eddie doing?” I ask, “losing his wife must’ve been hard” I pick my knee up and place my feet on the dash before Buck swats them down, “I’m in my socks!”

“That is how you break your pelvis and your legs so feet where they go babe” He corrects gently, moves a hand from the wheel to gently caress my thigh. Covered in my Stanford crewneck and leggings with my fuzzy Christmas socks on. I’m a little more comfortable than if I was in jeans and a hoodie.

“Alright alright, but Chris is good?” I ask turning my head as he looks at the GPS.

“Yeah, he misses his mom and Eddie’s shut down a little bit but I think with some therapy he might start coming back.. Athena and Bobby have been helping out with dinners n stuff” he explains, checking over as he merges into the freeway.

“That’s good, god I love those two. Real good people” I nod a little shifting in my seat as Buck continues driving.

“I was thinking, Santa Cruz, we go see your parents, San Fran, then drive back. Skip LA and just head straight to San Diego?” He asks looking over. Just a peeking glance at my expression before he turns his attention back to the road.

“Buck, y’know I love you but it’s gonna be freezing in San fran and Santa Cruz and driving past home Buck what’s up? I’m gettin worried” I peek over at him, seeing a large sigh from his chest.

“I’m scared. To go back. That I’ll get hurt again. Or someone else will get hurt again. I’m starting to think I’m just full of bad luck” He breathes a little looking in the rearview mirror before speeding up slightly.

“Oh” I don’t really have anything to say, no words to comfort him, no piece of advice to say ‘I’d been there, I know how you feel’ because I don’t know how he feels. I don’t know what it’s like to die on the job, or to see my friends face death, “I can’t tell you that I’ve been there and give you advice” I admit, “baby, the best I can do for you is to tell you that I’m here for you. And we have about six hours for you to tell me all about your feelings”

I see a faint smile and he shakes his head, “nah, I don’t need you to be my therapist, but I appreciate it.. more than you know” He tugs at his earlobe and sits back a little.

We sit in silence, I’ve got my AirPods in and watching the view. Bucks hand shifts from the steering wheel to my thigh where he just holds it.

We arrive in Santa Cruz at sunset, the beach is cold and the sand pricks at my toes as I slip my socks off, “come on bucky” I smile a little, it’s been years since I’ve been to this beach. I grasp his hand, he falters slightly before following after me. A quick surge foreword as he drops my hand then lifts me over his shoulder. I gasp slightly and grip onto his shirt, “Evan!”

“You run too slow, y’know I’m trained to run carrying a hell of a lot more than what you weigh” He sasses slightly, lowering me as the waves lick at my feet. It’s a re-assuring smile he gives me as he leans in and kisses me softly.

I smile into the kiss and wrap my arms around his neck. Locking my fingers into the soft blondeish brunette curls, “y’know. I didn’t realize how much I needed to get out of the city until I actually got out” I murmur as he turns and we stand side by side. The waves crashing into my ankles, starting to wet the edges of my leggings. The water starts to soak into Bucks jeans. He holds my hand, stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. I lean against his bicep, his finger rubs against my thumb.

“Good trip then?”

“Definitely”

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Carnal

AN: Everybody thank Lollapalooza Hyunjin for forcibly dragging me out of my writing rut and making me post again. Also, thanks to Sam @souplix for listening to my stressed, horny thoughts and feelings about him lol.

Synopsis: You have a very rude awakening about how sweaty Hyunjin makes you feel.

Tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mentions of Hyunjin going to the gym/working out and how his body has changed because of that, one brief mention of possessiveness, Reader is shorter than Hyunjin and there is no plot here.

Smut tags and warnings: Reader is down catastrophic (she's just like me fr), scent kink, sweat kink, lots of mentions of sweat and scent basically lol, lots of licking and biting (both giving and receiving), implied strength kink, mentions of bruises, sex in Reader's kitchen, some pussy play (f. receiving), handjob (m. receiving), throatfucking (m. receiving), one mention of hentai, kissing post oral sex, dirty talk, some manhandling, Reader is lifted briefly, piv sex without a condom, praise (f. receiving), usage of petnames, creampie, hints of overstimulation, a brief mention of tears, mentions of Hyunjin being clawed at, mentions of pussy eating and implied cum eating.

Word count: 3.3k

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

It's stupid. So incredibly stupid.

You don't know why your brain and body have chosen today to make such a big deal out of your very attractive, very sweaty boyfriend but, they've decided now was apparently the appropriate time to conspire against you. Maybe you can blame this on ovulation. Maybe if you check your calendar, the desire you feel clawing at your gut watching him chug water from his bottle and the way his white shirt clings to his broad back will all make total sense.

When did he get so broad, anyway? You feel like you just blinked and suddenly he was all muscles and strength and you're trying really hard not to think of that one he pressed you so hard into your mattress that your thighs were littered with bruises afterwards–

“Are you okay?” His concerned voice violently shakes you out of the memories that were fogging up your brain. Oh. Oh, it's so much worse being faced with him directly. Who the fuck goes to the gym in a white shirt? Doesn't he see the way it's sticking to his drenched torso? Is he just that unaware of how sweaty of a person he is? Does he not care? You shove down the twinge of possessiveness that flares up at the idea of anyone getting to look at him while he looks this hot.

“Hmm? I'm fine. Why do you ask?” You pray to whatever higher power is listening that the breathy quality of your voice is only evident to you.

The knowing look that dawns on his handsome face lets you know that the higher powers aren't on your side today.

You've been in love with Hyunjin for far, far longer than the two of you have been together and you know it's way too soon to tell him that. However, it's moments like this that make you question your feelings because the smugness rolling off of him in waves as he sets down his bottle and stalks his way over to you is so insufferable. It's hard to maintain your annoyed exterior when he's so close to you and his scent is all around you. You think your ovulation hypothesis might have been correct because it's so fucking absurd that your mouth starts to water just from smelling him and his damp chest being a few centimetres from your face.

“I'm not sure why,” he starts and the gravelly quality of his voice shoots straight to the apex of your thighs. He doesn't stop, though. Pressing you further into your kitchen counter while his hands burn a trail from your thighs to your hips, your oversized shirt shifting up in the process, “but, you look like you want to devour me right now.”

The whimper that escapes your throat is beyond pathetic but, apparently that's all he needs before pouncing. The wind is knocked out of the moment his mouth descends onto yours. His hands give your hips a sharp squeeze before drifting to your ass. Kneading it while his tongue and teeth leave you a mess. All you can think to do is grasp onto his biceps for some sort of lifeline. The muscles and veins underneath your palms don't help the state of pussy in the slightest. The sheer ferocity of the want you feel for him right is a little terrifying. He could ask you to do anything right now and you doubt you'd find it within you to say no.

You swallow down the frustrated whine that threatens to bubble out of you when he pulls his mouth away from you. He doesn't keep you waiting for long, though. Kissing his way along your jaw until his full lips begin showering your neck with licks and nips. If he has any complaints about the way your nails dig into his biceps, he doesn't make them known. God, it's like you can feel your sanity crumbling with every kiss he presses into you and every millisecond you spend surrounded by his dizzying scent. This is quite the way to discover you're apparently really into your boyfriend when he's covered in sweat.

He departs from your neck with one, final kiss. Meeting your lidded gaze with an electrifying one of his own. Frankly, with the way he's looking at you right now, you're not sure why he hasn't tugged down his sweats and shoved his cock into you. It's clear as day that that's what you both want. Then again, your boyfriend being ever the giving romantic typically isn't one to let you feel him until he's made you cum with his fingers and/or mouth at least once. Which you do love but, you're pretty sure if he doesn't sink his cock into you right now, you might die actually. You're sure you're more than wet enough.

As if reading your mind, one of his hands drift to your inner thighs and, of course, you spread them for him. Your breath stills in your lungs when his fingertips brush against your soaked folds. “Fuck,” he hisses, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see one his veins tick. Honestly, if you weren't so delirious just from a few, light strokes of his fingers, you'd happily be licking at it. “How are you so wet already?” He asks, his eyes meeting yours briefly and, the intensity in them makes it infinitely harder to breath, before his attention is focused back on watching his fingers toy with you.

“It's not my fault you're so hot,” you mean to say that as a half-joke but, the sheer desire in your tone makes any attempt at humour fall flat. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat. His fingers trace your slick folds with practised ease. He even has the nerve to grin against your lips when your hips jump as his fingers add pressure to your neglected clit. You're so relieved that you have your counter there to support you because you're certain your legs would have given out ages ago. He greedily swallows every noise he pulls from you with his mouth and his fingers. Quiet gasps, needy moans and pitchy keens all find their way into his awaiting mouth while his stupidly long fingers continue to toy with you. You're so wet that you can feel it dripping onto your thighs and, you're sure his fingers are thoroughly coated in it too. A thought that prompts you to kiss him harder and impatiently tug at one of the causes of all of this madness in the first place.

“Off,” you impatiently demand against his plump lips, shoving his shirt up his slick torso. His responding laugh is obnoxious but he does oblige your request without much fanfare. Tugging off his shirt and discarding it somewhere on your kitchen floor. Honestly, you're not sure what's worse: when the stupid shirt was clinging to him or having his bare, sweaty chest right there for you to have your way with. Fuck. You should ask him to drop by after his workouts more often. Raw, carnal desire propels you forward. Pulling him into a kiss that's more spit and teeth than anything. Delighting in the hardness you can feel prodding at your stomach and the groans of pleasure that spill from him while you tug on his damp locks. While this is nice, you have other plans in mind.

You've probably explored his body hundreds of times at this point but, you don't think you'll ever grow tired of feeling the way he reacts to your every touch. Smiling into his lips when his muscles jump underneath your fingertips. Your walls fluttering around nothing when his whimpers hit your eardrums as you tease his sensitive nipples. Burning every part of him you can into your memory all over again. Fingers mapping paths they've travelled thousands of times before but, it never quite feels like enough. This time around, he's the first one to pull away for air. Your kitchen is filled with nothing but the sounds of your respective laboured breathing and the habitual drones from your various appliances.

Your mouth finds his throat and the salty taste of his skin shoots straight to your clit. Hyunjin is a sweaty man. This isn't a secret. However, you're not sure what's changed so drastically today that makes his sweat almost an aphrodisiac to you. You find yourself chasing as much of his taste as you can. Licking his neck until it's a mess of spit and sweat while your skilled hands hurriedly pull at the waistband of his sweats. Whether it's because he's just as lost in all of this as you are or because he wants you to, he doesn't stop you from pooling his sweats and boxers around his thighs. He's scorching, slick and hard in the palm of your hand.

It's a delirious feeling the way he quivers beneath your every touch. His pulse jumping underneath your tongue with every lazy stroke you give him. He doesn't let you touch him like this as often as you'd like. He's giving and so deeply focused on your pleasure to a fault so, you always savour moments like this whenever they arise. Mouthing at his neck and toying with cock just further stoke the flames of arousal lashing at your gut but, it's not enough.

An idea springs to your mind and your pussy throbs just thinking about it.

Thankfully, Hyunjin is too distracted with trying to fuck your hand and paw at your ass to notice anything is going on until you're on your knees. The floor is cold and you can already tell your knees are going to hurt later but, you can't bring yourself to care when he gives you a look that's equal parts confusion and lust. It's so fucking unfair that he still manages to look so cute while his cock is centimetres from your face and your hand is covered in him.

“What–” his question is cut off by a strangled moan of your name when you take him down your throat as far as you can. Not unlike Hyunjin, you're quite the romantic yourself. Typically you'd paint his torso and hips with kisses before teasing him with licks until he's begging you to suck him off properly.

Today isn't a typical day.

Pride swells up inside of you when he leans against your counter for support with a whispered ‘fuck.’ The brief discomfort you feel from his tip nudging the back of your throat is so worth it. You probably took too much of him too fast but, you don't care. You feel like a woman possessed right now. Your hand continues to stroke what you can't fit into your mouth and his taste causes more of your wetness to gush out of you. He always tastes so good, so him but, this is something else. You're sure if this was a hentai, your pupils would be in the shape of hearts right now. You wonder if he'd be grossed out by you asking him not to shower immediately after the gym and his dance classes anymore. Probably.

One of his hands finds its way to your hair when the sounds (and likely sensations) of you gagging on his cock are too much. You manage to blink up at him through your wet lashes (when did you start crying?) and the look in his face worsens the mess between your thighs. Even from here, you can see how almost black his eyes are. A pretty blush dusting across his face that would look endearing if he didn't look like he wanted to fuck you within an inch of your life. He maintains your eye contact as he shallowly starts to thrust into your mouth. Bruised lips parting to let out curses and groans but, his eyes remain completely locked onto you. Watching for any signs of discomfort or him going too far as his hips gradually pick up speed.

It's hard to breathe but, you push that to the back of your mind for now. Focusing on relaxing your throat as much as you can so he can fuck it thoroughly. Your face is a mess of tears, spit and pre-cum but, he's still looking at you like you're the most gorgeous person in the world to him. Maybe you are a little insane about him because what rational person thinks about how much they love their boyfriend while he's throatfucking them?

It takes you a second to notice him slowing down his pace until he stops completely. Before you can shoot him a questioning look, he's easing himself out of your mouth and a noise of frustration escapes you before you can stop yourself. His laugh, like always, is music to your ears and that coupled with the way he plays with your hair for a bit acts as a balm for your brief irritation. Still, your confusion must be written clear as day even as he helps you to your feet because he says, “Was getting close. Didn't wanna cum in your mouth.”

Driven by the painful pulse between your thighs, you drag him into another kiss. The knowledge that he's tasting himself on your tongue is so fucking hot that think you've finally, well and truly, reached the end of rope.

“Jin-Jinnie,” you gasp against his mouth, fingernails desperately clawing at his shoulders, “I ah need you to fuck me, please. Need to feel you,” you rush out in a single breath that you're not even sure he heard you. However, based on the way he practically hoists you onto your counter and ruts his cock into your thigh, he heard you just fine.

“Didn't even get to get you ready,” he complains, his massive hands spreading your thighs for him to easily slot himself between. Your breath stutters in your chest when his fingers stroke your swollen, dripping core and it's especially hard to remember how to breathe when they ghost over your clit. “Didn't even get to taste this pretty pussy,” he whines against your cheek, pressing his nose to your skin while his fingers inch closer to your entrance.

You need to stop him now otherwise you're going to wind up with his face between your thighs for like three hours like last time. And as mind-blowing as that was, you really just want his cock right now.

“Later, Jinnie, okay?” You assure him, grabbing his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. It's hard to focus when he looks at you like that but, you persist, “You can eat me out all you want later,” it does do fantastic things for your ego watching the way his eyes glaze over at the offer, “but, right now I really just want your cock, please.”

“You're so unfair,” he groans before doing his best to devour you with his full, gorgeous lips. His hands keep your thighs spread for him, gripping them so harshly that you wouldn't be shocked if you had fresh bruises decorating your skin later. 'Seriously, when did he get so strong?' you wonder briefly before you feel him sinking into you. Granted, you did quite literally beg him for this but, it still takes you a few, very long moments to remember how to breathe while he lets you feel every inch of him. You're more than wet enough. That's not the problem here. It's just so much feeling him balls deep inside of you. All you can think to do is claw at his biceps while you try to gather yourself and adjust to the stretch and the sudden, toe-curling fullness.

“So good, so tight,” he moans when he pulls away for some air, focusing his attention on lapping at your throat while his hands fondle as much of your thighs as he can reach. His thrusts start out without an ounce of mercy. The snaps of his hips are precise, deadly and meant to brush against that spot inside of you that always makes you see stars and feel lightheaded with every thrust. It's filthy, frankly. The noises of his skin slapping against yours echoing throughout your kitchen. Your shared, shaky breaths and broken moans adding tension to the familiar knot you can feel tightening in the pit of your stomach.

Blinking your eyes opening, you're met with the sight of his inky hair sticking to his damp forehead and sweat dripping down his handsome face while he watches himself thrust into you, totally transfixed. Impatient hands tugging your shirt out of the way as much as possible so he can watch the way your tits move with every stroke too. You'd laugh at his ever present fixation on your tits if you weren't so keyed up and unbearably close. Clued in either by your watery whimpers or your walls trying their best to milk him dry, Hyunjin drags you as close to the edge as he comfortably can. Pulling you impossibly close to him, right into his sweat covered chest and further onto his stupidly long cock. It's so much, too much being pressed directly into the cause of all of this in the first place. His scent is all encompassing and zipping straight from your nostrils to the apex of your thighs, more of your arousal gushing onto him.

You nearly jump when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing quick circular motions just the way he knows you like it, his mouth finding its way to your ear, “You're so close, aren't you, baby?” He whispers, adding pressure with his fingers for good measure while his pace doesn't falter in the slightest, “Gonna cum for me? Wanna cum for me? Don't you? Cum all over this cock that you've been begging for. That you sucked off like a good girl–”

All you see is white after that. Your entire body seizing up so intensely that for a fleeting moment you're worried about how deeply your nails are digging into his skin. Hyunjin doesn't seem to care, though. Not even a little bit. Muttering what you manage to briefly catch are praises and moans of your name while he continues to fuck you through your climax. Tears prick the corners of your eyes while you ride out the waves and Hyunjin seeks out his own release from your spasming walls. You can tell from the way he twitches non-stop inside of you to the increase in his whines that he's growing close. One final, brutal snap of his hips is all it takes for him to sheath himself inside of you and fill you with his warm cum. His broken moans pressed into the hollow of your neck while he cums and cums and cums.

You let him lean against you while he takes a few minutes to compose himself and come back down to Earth. Truthfully, you're not faring much better but, at least you have a counter and an apparent gymrat of a boyfriend to help steady you. He hums appreciatively into your skin when you start playing with his hair and drawing nonsensical patterns into his back.

You're not sure how much time passes, could be five minutes, could be forty but, eventually he starts to pull out of you. This is easily your least favourite part and you can't help the unpleasant shudder that runs down your back once he's completely out. However, you know you need to pee and you both definitely need to take a shower so you don't begrudge him for getting the ball rolling. At least, that's what you thought was going to happen so, when he drops to his knees, you're left baffled and look at him totally puzzled.

“What–”

“You did say I could eat you out all I want later, didn't you?”

This man is going to be the death of you.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

When Harry came running into his study one bright October day, the first thing Voldemort thought was, Didn’t I lock that door? Years of living with the boy – well, man now – hadn’t yet inured Voldemort to him constantly being underfoot and getting into places where he shouldn’t be.

His second thought was that the flush of exertion colouring Harry’s cheeks was rather fetching. Even if his hair was more of a windswept bird’s nest than usual and the knees of his jeans were dirty.

“Vee, you gotta come with me,” Harry said. His breathing was just a little heavy, likely from running about like an excitable child.

“Oh, I ‘gotta,’ do I?” Voldemort teased in a deadpan tone, arching his brows as he watched Harry shift in place in the doorway.

“C’mon, don’t be pedantic; follow me,” Harry insisted. When he began walking over with a determined light in his eyes, Voldemort accepted his fate with a sigh, setting down his book and rising from his seat. Capitulation was better for his pride than losing, after all.

“Very well, lead the way.”

He pretended not to see Harry’s victorious fist-pump.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

When they reached their apparent destination, as indicated by Harry throwing his arms wide to present… something, Voldemort said, “What am I meant to be looking at?”

He couldn’t help but feel that Harry’s exasperated sigh was undeserved. “Leaves!” the man exclaimed, gesturing in front of them again.

“Yes, there are a lot of leaves,” Voldemort agreed slowly, wondering if the other man may have been caught with a stray confundus in the past hour.

“No, you–” Harry said, huffing out a laugh. “I raked some of the leaves into a pile. We’re going to jump into it.”

“We are not.”

“Uh, yeah, we definitely are.”

“Correction: I am not. You can do whatever foolish thing you like.”

“Vee, don’t be a spoilsport. Didn’t you ever want to play in the leaves when you were a kid?”

Tilting his head to the side, Voldemort gave it a moment of thought. “Not particularly, no. There weren’t enough trees around Wool’s to create an adequate pile, and the ground was too full of stones. I’ve never been fond of being dirty, either.”

“That is both sad and far too practical,” Harry said. “C’mon, a little dirt won’t hurt you, Mr. Big, Bad Dark Lord.”

“I’m going to remember you said that,” Voldemort threatened absently, glancing away from the leaf pile to watch the other man. “Is there a particular reason why you’re goading me?” 

Harry ducked his head, kicking one foot back and forth through the leaves and scattering them, though there were enough that it barely made a difference. “I dunno,” he said quietly. “When I was younger, I’d see some of the neighbourhood kids playing with each other in the leaves. I always had to rake them up and bin them immediately at the Dursleys'. It seemed like such a waste.”

And Voldemort was more than capable of filling in the bits that Harry wasn’t saying by this point. Sighing his defeat yet again, he turned away from the leaf pile, ignoring Harry’s disappointed sound. Then he let himself fall backwards, landing with a flump and sending leaves fluttering into the air around him.

Harry’s joyous shout preceded his flop into the leaf pile next to Voldemort by mere moments. Rolling back and forth and flailing his arms about with a smile practically splitting his face in half, Harry looked ecstatic. 

Reaching over, Voldemort plucked a leaf from Harry’s hair, letting it fall between them. Harry’s surprised eyes peered back at him, before they crinkled into happy half-moons behind his ridiculous glasses.

“Thanks, Vee,” he said far too sincerely for something so simple.

So Voldemort sat up, grabbed a handful of leaves and pitched it into Harry’s face, eliciting an indignant squawk. Before he could fully extricate himself, Voldemort was tackled back into the leaf pile, spitting out fallen foliage and rolling a cackling Harry off of him to pin the giddy man to the ground and stuff fistfuls of leaves down his shirt.

They both ended up flushed and dirty, but Voldemort couldn’t find it in him to complain.

[nectardaddy]

full throttle | sakusa kiyoomi

chapter five | painfully awkward | 🏎️

note: more written parts than smau for this one oops, kinda long so strap in I didn't want this to be in multiple parts

masterlist

He swallowed hard when he heard his passenger door open, a small "thanks for taking me," hitting his ears before the door closed. He didn't know what on earth could've possessed him to do such a thing as this. Not minding at first, offering as he was tired and only wanting his friend to stop texting, but now that she sat in his car he realized the space felt all too cramped. Seemingly caving in on himself as he averted his gaze and let out a hum of acknowledgement.

But the woman next to him, although riddled with anxiety of her own, was all too quick to notice his white knuckles and tightened jaw. He had tendencies peculiar to those who didn't know him; and although she wasn't chummy, she caught on quickly. "I'm kinda invading your space, sorry." Trying to make herself, almost, smaller in the seat genuinely made him feel a bit bad.

If he didn't know her habits from high school, he would've never agreed. Always tidy, well kept, and never coming to school sick. Ticking off boxes in his mind before he felt like he could breathe again. A quirk that was difficult to overcome, but he had learned to dial down, only ever so slightly, in recent years. "It's alright," speaking in a breath, "let's just get going."

Breathe. The woman told herself internally, shifting in the seat uncomfortably as tension was thick and silence loud. Just be yourself. An inner monologue of thoughts hammering her head as all she could do was keep her eyes glued forward. "So," she began, cringing at herself before sighing. This is so stupid. He's never been talkative.

"So?" He repeated, brows furrowing. Eyes flicking over only for a split second before returning to the road in front of him. Another pregnant pause, making both of their skin crawl from uncertainty and pressure to speak. "Where'd you learn to drift like that?" A question that left his lips without grace; where he usually took his time to think before speaking, but wanted something to replace the dreadful silence.

"Oh, uh," caught off guard, the woman sat up in her seat more and looked over to him. "I taught myself actually, more or less," shrugging as she continued, "youtube helped a lot."

"Christ," he mumbled aloud, "are you serious? You can drift like that and you taught yourself?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," she grumbled. "You don't believe me?"

"I never said that," he corrected. "I just remember you had no clue how to even do a donut in high school. It's surprising you actually beat me a few weeks ago." Nonchalantly leaving his lips with a twinge of, very dry, humor.

A humor that was unique to him, a coarse humor that she didn't pick up on right away. Moreover, not at all. "Excuse me?"

"What?" He asked, once again flickering his eyes over to her. "I'm telling you that you really improved. You sucked in high school."

Closing her mouth as words fell short for her and letting a breath out of her nose, she shifted her gaze. "Well you haven't changed at all," mumbling under her breath as she rolled her eyes. This was a terrible idea, why did I ever like this asshole.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were a dick in high school," she admitted, stubbornly refusing to cast her eyes towards him again. "I always thought you were just broody and wanted space, but you're actually just an asshole."

Taken back by her statement, he inhaled deeply, fingers once again gripping the steering wheel tightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Dude," she groaned, not grasping that the man genuinely couldn't see his own actions. "You were always so short with me in high school, like it was annoying to even talk to me at all. And, you just said I sucked at drifting. That's like, peak asshole behavior."

"Oh," realization hitting him abruptly, slamming into him like a derailed train. Had he really been that callous? Did he not realize that his words would force her back rather than forward? "Sorry. I never knew that. And, I didn't mean it to come off rude. You've genuinely gotten a lot better, I'm impressed. Really."

Brows furrowing in confusion, she now found it within herself to look at him once more. He was serious. A strange, nonconforming, way of complimenting someone she almost found herself enjoying. Pulled in opposite directions of what to feel because neither the man himself knew what emotion swirled in his brain. "You're impressed?"

"Yeah?" Asking as if it was a given. But the man wasn't usually one for compliments, they were used sparingly and very few and far between. "I'll be honest, I haven't seen someone drive that aggressively in a street race in years. It was cool."

"I'm so confused," she blurted out, a nervous laugh following suit to try and break up the obvious tension. What she didn't expect; however, was him to match the anxious laughter. Neither party not knowing exactly what the other felt, but somehow, someway knowing that the back and forth had fizzled out. "But thanks, you're like the best driver I've ever seen, so that means a lot."

omi does not know how to talk to people like a normal person (same). he's way too blunt majority of the time but he's working on it

this man actually feels so bad. he didn't know she thought he was being an asshole

omi has really dry, basically sahara desert level, humor. he actually thought she would laugh or at least chuckle at what he said

he did the same in high school and didn't realize until just now he had done a HORRIBLE job at flirting with her

HE DIDN'T MEAN IT

this was painfully awkward for the both of them

both of them will pretend this situation never happened and never bring it up again. but they're in a silent agreement that everything is fine now.

yn will not be telling the group chat about this and will be taking it to her grave. this was peak level of both confusing and mortifying for her

hmmmm his laugh was probably so hot I gotta say it

the rest of the time was just spent talking about drifting and qualifiers

"you're the best driver I've ever seen" will be playing in his head the entire time he is in his car at qualifiers and he doesn't know what this means to him

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @hilichurl-lover @neuviloved @mayariviolet @wqnsho

@chosugarplum @dontmindtheevie @ilyless @phoenix-eclipses

[aroeddiediaz]

7x04 Coda

Sprained ankles hurt. Eddie shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by the pain, because he knows all too well that the amount of pain injuries feel like is almost inverse with the actual damage they cause. A shot from a sniper felt like almost nothing, while a stubbed toe sends ricochets up his spine.

But that’s nothing compared to the encroaching feeling of dread as Eddie thinks back on his interactions with Buck over the last two weeks, and what might have caused his best friend to lash out at him.

“I think we fucked up,” he grumbles to Tommy, who gives him a quick glance before returning his attention to the road.

“You mean with Evan?” Tommy says.

Evan. That was kind of weird, right? Eddie had only ever heard Buck’s sister and parents call him by his first name before. He’d only used the name once himself, when he told Buck about his will.

But Buck hadn’t corrected Tommy on it, so he must not mind, Eddie supposes.

Eddie shakes that stray thought away.

“Yeah,” he continues, even though talking kind of hurts right now. That didn’t seem fair, it’s Eddie’s ankle that’s injured, not his lungs. “I mean, with me kind of blowing him off to come to that karaoke night… and the UFC fight in Vegas… and the pickup game…”

Looking back on it now, Eddie’s not sure when it all got so out of hand. He and Tommy had hit it off on the Coast Guard ride back to LA, while Buck was off checking in with Bobby and Athena. He’d been so excited as they shared their similar interests and history- army, MMA, old cars- that he’d immediately made plans to hang out. When Tommy mentioned that he could get them rinkside tickets in Vegas, Eddie had jumped on it immediately. He didn’t even think about mentioning it to Buck.

And the babysitting thing… Eddie kind of wants to curl up thinking back to the strange face Buck had made when Eddie asked him to watch over Chris. Buck usually loved hanging out with Chris, even volunteering for it when Eddie mentioned having plans, so he didn’t think twice about asking it of him. He should have known.

“Ooh, yeah.” Tommy lets out a whistle. “We did fuck up, huh. Could have at least invited him to muay thai after the match.”

Eddie laughs a little, strained by the pain and the stirrings of shame. “Buck doesn’t know muay thai. Just boxing.”

“Yeah?” There’s a funny tone to Tommy’s voice. “Maybe we should teach him.”

Eddie does a careful rotation of his inflamed joint. The stretch does help ease the pain a little. “Maybe you should offer him lessons,” he says. “I’m gonna be out of commission for a little bit.”

Tommy glances at him again. A slightly longer one, with them stopped at a red light, kind of searching. “You think he’d be interested in learning from me?”

“Oh yeah. You’re great. And Buck’s a quick study for sure.” Eddie glances out the window, and sees the urgent care clinic sign just past the intersection. “Actually, you think you could do me a favor?”

The light turns green. Tommy drives forward. “Of course.”

“Could you talk to Buck for me?” Eddie asks. “I’m sure he’s feeling all sorts of guilty right now, and it’s not his fault. He just got a little too aggressive at the game.”

It’s really too bad. Buck’s really good at basketball, for someone who hates the game so much. Eddie’s sure he’ll never get Buck to touch a ball again.

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy says, slowly, as he pulls up into the parking lot. “If you’re sure you want me to speak with him.”

Eddie nods. “He’s probably licking his wounds at his loft right now, and he’ll need a bit of a kick in the pants before he comes to see me. I trust you.”

Tommy chuckles a little. “Alright, then. I’ll swing by his place in the morning, before my shift, check in on him for you.”

That’s a relief. They find a parking spot close to the clinic entrance, and Eddie hisses a little as he opens the door and swings his legs out. He needs to be more considerate of Buck’s feelings, going forward. He has the sinking feeling that he’s started to take him for granted.

He’ll have to pay him more attention.

[hisxthighs]

jongseob x y/n

FLUFF

includes: kissing, flirting, jongseob being a nervous wreck

-

it was one of those lazy afternoons where nothing really mattered except the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the soft sound of your voices every now and then. you were sprawled across the couch, phone in hand, barely listening to whatever jongseob was saying. but, god, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept flicking toward you, how his teasing smirk never seemed to leave his face. it had been like this for weeks now — a constant dance of subtle flirtations that neither of you would admit to.

“hey,” jongseob said suddenly, breaking the silence, his voice a little too soft, like he was testing the waters.

you raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “yeah?”

he looked like he was about to say something, but then his lips parted and closed again, like he was debating whether or not to say whatever was on his mind. you couldn’t help but laugh quietly, already anticipating the awkwardness that was about to unfold. “what? just spit it out already.”

jongseob shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck, and you could see his cheeks flushing just a little. “okay, so… um…” he trailed off, his eyes avoiding yours like he couldn’t bear to look at you. “i—i’ve been thinking about something. a lot. like… a lot.”

you smirked, leaning in slightly, unable to resist the teasing. “oh? something interesting? or something weird?”

he looked at you then, his gaze finally meeting yours, and for a second you saw the vulnerable side of him — the side that wasn’t always so confident. his breath hitched before he mumbled, “you’ve probably noticed… i’ve been flirting with you a lot recently. right?”

you raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “flirting? you? no way.” you teased, but your heart was racing, already knowing where this was headed.

jongseob looked horrified for a second, his eyes widening, and he immediately scrambled to correct himself. “i-i mean, i didn’t mean to make it obvious! i was just—i don’t know! being… friendly? you know?” his voice cracked slightly, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how nervous he was, his hands now fidgeting in his lap.

you leaned closer to him, watching the way his eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes, clearly trying not to be obvious but failing miserably. “jongseob…” you said softly, a hint of mischief in your voice. “i think we both know what’s been going on.”

he swallowed hard, his face turning a deeper shade of red as he stammered, “o-okay, yeah. fine. i’m—i’m into you. i can’t stop thinking about you, alright? i—i’ve liked you for so long, and i—i know it’s dumb, but i didn’t know if you felt the same, and now i’ve just been… making it worse, haven’t i?”

you could feel the tension building between you, and suddenly, all of his nervous rambling didn’t matter. you were done waiting for him to figure it out, done playing the game. you grabbed his face, your hands warm against his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss, fast and deep.

he froze for half a second, clearly shocked, but when he kissed you back, his hands were immediately on your waist, pulling you closer like he couldn’t stand the space between you. when you pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your faces inches apart. jongseob looked like he might pass out from embarrassment, his eyes wide, his hands still trembling as he held onto you.

“w-what the hell… i—i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have—”

you kissed him again, cutting him off. this time it was softer, more confident, like you both knew exactly what this was now. when you pulled away again, you grinned at him, your voice low and teasing. “that’s all i’ve been waiting for,” you murmured, your fingers lightly tracing his jaw. “god, jongseob, you’re such a mess.”

he flushed a deeper shade of red, looking at you like you’d just stolen his breath. “i—i didn’t think you—i mean, i thought… i didn’t know if you felt the same way,” he stammered, still clearly nervous, but the tension was gone now, replaced with something more… electric.

“well,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his again, “you should’ve known. i think i’ve been flirting back just as hard.”

jongseob’s eyes lit up in shock, and then he laughed, pulling you into his arms. “so… this is it, huh? no more pretending?” he asked, his voice filled with something you couldn’t quite place — excitement? relief?

you grinned up at him, your fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. “no more pretending.”

jongseob sighed, leaning in to kiss you again, this time slower, more sure of himself, like he finally understood you weren’t going anywhere. you melted into the kiss, your heart racing, and for the first time in months, it felt like everything had finally fallen into place.

[admirationandromantics]

Computer Assembling

The photo mentioned is the first one on the three-photo preview on the top. Fucking hell. I swear to god, you guys are going to be the death of me when writing cause ugh, this just flew and flew and flew! I don't have time to write like this, but can't help it when you make the exact scenarios I've been imagining myself. Holy shit, well, read the request and you'll get a good idea of what's about to happen. Ps, added some lovely smut in this, so enjoy <3

Word count: 2,4k (Unedited)

h a i . . . :3 sent u a photo in your inbox to go along with this little request/thot thinking about Chris lowkey being into building computers and he's wearing THAT outfit i sent you and his build looks like that too and maybe the relationship is like you guys are hanging out for maybe the 4-5th time ever and you're just sitting there staring and drooling and not being subtle at all and he's just stuttering and trying not to literally fuck you right then and there while you two are in his room while he builds his new pc build.. oh my god.. i really need nerdy, beefy chris today and your writing always fuels me 🫶😇 -@nerd-space

I can’t help staring at his arms, his sweater rolled up over them, making the lower half partially visible. I wonder what’s underneath the rest of it…

“Can you hand me that star-formed screw?” he asks, reaching out his hand for me to give him. I look around the floor, different bags of screws, corks, plastic and tools. I take some screws with crosses and hand them to him. He takes a quick look to see that they’re correct, before starting to spin them into the metal. I watch intently, his fingers working their magic, no detail too small. Being precise and delicate as he keeps going. Veins forming on his hands as he tightens the screws. 

He shifts, noticing my stare. I can’t control it, therefore I have to force my hand upwards, closing my mouth and turning my head. I bet he’d kick me out for the nasty thoughts I’m having. 

“So” he starts, coughing a little. “Think we can get this done in one night?” 

“I know something we can” 

“What?” 

Shit, I said that out loud. I stutter, trying to find something remotely similar which doesn’t sound as suggestive. 

“I know we can” I quickly rescue myself, and he gives a silent nod, dragging the metalwork on his lap, hiding the view I’m so shamelessly taking advantage of. I sigh, turning back to the equipment. We weren’t far away now, just one board and a little assembling left. I enjoy watching it, not just because of him, but because it looks just like lego. I bet if I bought a set, he’d build it with me. Another reason to watch his hands work, his muscles tense and veins popping. 

His room is cozy. Blinds are open, but the outside is dark. It’s nighttime after all. A lot can still happen before dawn. His walls are full of posters and pictures, his old gaming setup on the desk, as well as a semi-large bed. Around a queen-size one. I take another breath, thighs pressing together to stop my thoughts from wandering. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, cheeks a bit flushed. Is it hot in here? 

“Um, yeah. Just you know”

“What?” 

“Nothing, I’ve just never been in your room before” 

“First time for everything, right?” He laughs a little, and I smile. His hand wanders up to his face, rearranging his glasses, pushing them back. God, if he only took them off, if he did and threw that piece of machinery on the floor and just took me hard right now on the-

“But yeah, none of the others have been here yet” he explains, waving to the room. I nod, looking around once again. The urge to look through his stuff is exhausting. I can’t help myself. 

“Mind if I check your drawers?” I ask, already standing up. He smiles, nodding along and holds his hand out. 

“Be my guest” 

I firstly walk to his desk, opening the first drawer and being met with a couple of game cards, coins and some paper and pens. All of them seem to be minecraft coordinates, remembering where different structures are and other people’s bases. 

“Didn’t take you for a Minecraft sweat–gamer” I joke, looking through the notes. 

“Well, when you’re playing with Josh, you kinda have to” 

“I see” 

I move to the other drawer, bending forward a little since it’s lower. Maybe a bit on purpose? He won’t notice either way. This one is full of candy wrappers, every colour just laying there. I dig through it, finding a small notebook on the bottom. 

“You know there’s something called a garbage bin?” 

“And you know there’s something called privacy?” 

“You said it was fine!” 

“Yeah, yeah” 

I open the book, seeing a couple of old drawings and doodles. Some of them are only scribbles. On one page is Ashley’s name, and my heart falls a bit. This was three years ago. It still doesn’t matter, we all know how down bad he was for her. I sigh silently, closing the book and putting it back. 

I figure that’s it, I’ll stop snooping now. I turn around, seeing him on the chair, screws still in hand as he works intently. I sit down on the bed, right over him, watching as he tightens them, arm flexing in the process. The curvature of his muscles as they reach all the way back behind his sweater. 

Jeez, I need to stop myself, I sound desperate. Desperately horny to be honest, but who wouldn’t be? He’s sitting there, with his arms bare, working his magic right beside me. Glasses on, pants unfortunately on, muscles tensing and a sweet blush on his face. His adorable glasses and messy hair. He said he got out of the shower right before I came. I feel hot, and it’s definitely not okay. What if he still likes Ashley? What if he sees me as just a friend, nothing more? I don’t want to ruin this. 

“Um, y-you’re turning quite red, are you alright?” he suddenly says, a worried look in his eyes as he looks down at me. I pull myself from my trance, chest heaving as I try to steady my pulse- 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking” 

“About what?” He watches as my eyes linger over his arms once again, breathing getting uneven and my thighs pressing together. I have no shame, damnit. 

“Y-you know” 

“Care to elaborate on that?” He laughs a little, gazing over, taking in every inch of me. Am I that obvious? Was this top way too low-cut, because I’ve seen him staring a couple of times. 

“About why you’re staring down my chest” I blurt out, being too forward. Shit. His face gets completely red, hands working in a rush as his attention goes back to the project. He sighs, head leaning back as he collects himself. 

“You can’t expect me not to look when you’re dressed like that” 

“Hartley, are you calling me easy?” 

“Hey, I’ve seen how you’ve looked at me for the last hours” 

The room turns silent, my mouth open to say something back, but I don’t manage. He’s stopped working on the computer, arms stiff and eyes shocked, as if he can’t believe he caught me. Shit, he actually caught me. I’ve been so careful, at least as much as I could. We both stare at one another, and I feel my pulse go up again, heart beating faster and breathing quickening. Fucking hell, why is he staring at me like this? I look him up and down, the computer still being in his lap. 

“I-I um” I start, but can’t finish. A small smile creeps up on his lips as his attention goes back to the project as if nothing happened. I look up confused, wondering what just happened. 

“If my bare arms has that effect on you, you could’ve just told me” he laughs a bit, fastening the frame. 

“What, no, that’s not-”

“I mean, I can take off the whole thing if that’d make you pay attention, but I think it wouldn’t work” 

“Hey, I wasn’t-”

“But you can sit there drooling over my fucking fingers without me thinking about how you’d handle it” 

“What, handle what?” 

He puts the tools down, moving the computer off his lap and walking over. Just then, I notice his large bulge underneath his pants. The thought alone makes my face blush, all the ways I’ve imagined him coming back to haunt me. 

He leans over, and before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on mine, arms on either side of me on the bed. I melt into it, hands going up around his neck, pulling him closer. I lean down, dragging him with and letting him tower over me, even if we’re laying horizontally. His fingers move to grope my thigh, roughly kneading as he bites my lips. I can’t help the moan that escapes my cords, getting swallowed by him as he moves lower and looks up at me. 

“You really can’t keep testing my limits like this”

“What if I do?” 

“Then I can’t be held responsible for what I do next” 

“And what’ll that be?” 

“You’re about to find out” 

His lips leave kisses and bites all over my neck, sucking until he finds the spot making me scream. His hand immediately goes to cover my mouth, smiling as he stops for a bit. 

“Thin walls, I’ve got neighbours, contain yourself”

“Easy for you to say” 

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to fuck the life out of you for the last few hours?” 

“N-no” I stammer, his hands moving under my shirt, groping my breasts. 

“So much I already had a trip to the bathroom, and you got me all going again as I came back” 

“So, you’ve already tried to take care of yourself” 

“You make it difficult” he smirks, dragging my top off. 

“Well, we have to do something about that” 

“You bet I am” 

He takes hold of my already unbuttoned pants, dragging them off with ease, and watching in hunger as my breast jiggles from the movement. I gasp at the cold air, feeling it especially on my soaked panties. He doesn’t waste time, unbuttoning his pants and dragging off the white, thin sweater, letting me see his muscular build. I reach up to him, feeling every curve of each muscle until he gets impatient and throws me down on the sheets. 

“Again, we’re not testing my limits tonight, they’ve already been crossed” 

I snicker, feeling him cage me with his arms as he kisses my lips. I carefully take off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. His face is flushed, chest heaving as he breathes, but I don’t blame him. I probably look worse. He kisses down my stomach, stopping by my thighs to suck them dry. I moan loudly, forgetting about the walls and neighbours. They would have to deal with it. He leaves red and blue marks all over, several times causing me to slam my legs shut. He doesn’t get hurt though, his big strong arms keeping them apart easily before moving to my heat. His fingers trace over the wet fabric, and he hums to himself when feeling it. When feeling me. I whine from the tender contact, the touch too weak to do anything about my craving. He stands up, taking fully off his pants and boxers. I do the same, wanting him so incredibly bad, right now. I’ve waited for him long enough. I pull off my panties, unhooking my bra and throwing it off. He stands there mesmerized by the sight, but I don’t let him take it in. 

“Gaze while we fuck, I need you now” I whisper, taking his hand and dragging him over me again. 

“As you wish ma’am” 

He leans over me, letting his length coat itself in my juices. I’m so ready for him, even though I didn’t get the time to see how big he is, I need him right now inside me. 

“Are you sure you can take it?” he whispers teasingly, making my tension build up. 

“Chris, I swear to god I’ll do it myself if you don’t-”

I give a loud moan as he pushes himself completely in, filling me too much, way over the brim. He gropes my thigh, lifting my leg to get him even further, almost reaching my cervix. I whine, the pain and pleasure merging together and starting to build in my stomach. 

“You know, there’s something so satisfying about shutting you up” 

“So this is how confident and cocky you get when you understand that someone likes you?” 

“Maybe”

“Do I need to remind you of the time you saw me in that short skirt-”

I moan loudly again as he pushes out and completely in again. That time, his face was flustered the whole night. I even got a comment from both Mike and Josh, which made him look over more often, watching intently the whole night. 

“If you keep reminding me of stuff like that, we’ll stay here until dawn” 

“I wouldn’t mind that” 

He starts moving, each thrust earring whimpers and moans from us both, filling the room with our voices and sloppy slapping. His hand eventually finds its way down to my clit, rubbing soft circles in rhythm with his movements. My arms go to his back and neck, pulling him down and meeting my lips with his, my nails scratching from the heavy stimulation. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s doing it well, the knot in my stomach steadily building up as he keeps going. 

“Switch” I whisper, and he obliges, turning us around and letting me straddle him. I start moving immediately, chasing my orgasm as he whimpers and groans. I jump up and down, my thighs doing most of the work. He notices quickly, and his arms go to my ass, groping harshly and moving me. The position makes him reach a new angle deep inside, making the pleasure unbearable. I’m so incredibly close, I just need a little more time. I start feeling hotter, sweat appearing on my forehead as I keep up the sloppy rhythm, letting my breasts jiggle in front of him. 

I start grinding a bit when I go down, letting our pelvises touch, and giving me that extra stimulation on my clit. This takes over me, making me go over the edge, tightening around him. I keep going, riding out my high on top of him as he jumps me up and down. He gives one last slam, pressing me deep on him and spilling inside me. Thank god I’m on the pill. 

I collapse on top of him, pulse skyrocketing and chest heaving. We’re both sweaty and flustered, breathing in sync as his hand comes to caress my back. I hum into his neck, kissing him softly. 

“So, I think you might have a thing for me” he smiles, fingers going to tangle in my hair. 

“You don’t say” 

“I’m not complaining”

“You better not” I laugh, capturing his lips on mine yet again. “Should we finish that computer?” 

“You don’t want to see what else these hands can do?” 

“I’m not saying no to that”

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 64

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Pearl's pov*

You are going to murder Grian for this. What was he thinking?!? What IS he thinking?? You wish you could see into his brain but you doubt you would find anything there- breathe in, breathe out, you are getting too worked up over this.... Yeah, no, breathing isn't helping.

...You would vent to your roomates but Cleo is gone on one of their sudden trips and Scott is too busy fighting with Joel by chat to actually listen to anythy you say...which is a different problem Grian has caused by being an idiot. No, that's not fair, that specific thing is not completely Grian's fault, just 50 percent his fault for putting Joel in the chat.

Thats brings you to issue number two, the fact that Joel is a god too. Which is also not nevessarily Grian's fault but it's still going to be a problem anyway... It scares you, not Joel himself but the fact that you didn't notice he had been here for so long... You wonder about what would have happened had it been the blood god instead.

So all of that is certainly a lot and It's really getting to you, that's why you are here, taking a stroll trough the botanical garden of the city's museum in order to calm yourself down. Scarlet Pearl has been getting very strong lately and you want to avoid her taking control when the situation is so delicate, unfortunately even walking through the flowers and leaves isn't calming you down as much as you would like to, seeing the sorry state of the plants here is actually making it worse- You crash face first into the back of a woman, you grab her arm before she can hit the ground but it ends up being a close call... The same though cannot be said about the large fish tank she had in her hands which keeps falling and then shatters onto the floor with a splash of water.

You manage to shut down the scarlet whispers somewhat before offering your apologies.

"Oh I'm so sorry mate. I must have been too deep in my thoughts."

The woman groans loudly, her pants are drenched in water.

"Are you kidding me!?... sigh, that's going to be an extra trip back and forth..."

She seems frustrated, you look better at the ground, between the glass shards and the water puddles are what look to be-

"Pickles?"

She looks at you- no, she glares daggers at you.

"Sea pickles, I was supposed to carry them to a bigger tank but that's not happening any time soon... At least it wasn't the coral."

"Why are you even delivering sea pickles to a garden? They aren't going in the pond are they? That's already full enough. Also sea pickles live in salt water."

She just stares at you, the glare shifting from something offensive to something defensive.

"Do you normally start interrogating people after crashing into them? Geez."

She takes out a bag from her backpack and starts picking up the glass pieces from the path.

"And It's not for the garden, It's for the new acquarium."

You kneel and start helping her with cleaning up.

"Here, let me help mate. Say, what's this about an acquarium? Never heard of anything like that."

It's not completely true but you are a bit out of the loop, you haven't really been involved lately... Too busy dealing with Grian- no, no thinking about him or you are going to start getting angry again.

"Right, It's still hasn't been like properly announced yet has it? Uh..."

You motion for her to continue.

"Go on"

She shrugs before responding.

"You know top five superhero Tay? She funded a new acquarium for the city with association money, I was just bringing the sea pickles for it, not exactly a rarity but it was more for decoration anyway."

The way this woman talks about Tay...hmmm, something about it just feels familiar, like when Scar talks about Hotguy. You have a theory to confirm... you use a bit of your powers and- Yeah, your intuition was correct after all, this woman *is* Tay herself... Huh, shorter then you expected.

You wonder why she's the one working on the project she apparently paid for, you are all for work ethic but this feels suspicious.

"Oh, is it being built near the garden then?"

She points to the side.

"Yeah, It's behind that big fence over there so it makes sense you haven't seen the building yet."

"Say, do you need help mate? With getting another batch of pickles?"

"Are you offering?"

"I feel bad about making you drop these ones"

"Hmm...all right follow me you... strange lady."

"It's Pearl."

"... just call me Gem"