#like okay so if they DID like him you'd vote for him

[queenerdloser]

whiplash conversation with my mom where she told me of her own volition that she plans to vote harris in november (she's republican) bc "no one likes trump" and she also admitted he was basically incoherent and untrustworthy (in the past she's admired him). which then turned into her saying that she didn't see the big deal about harris being the first female president was and that led into. full on big blowout fight about whether or not the patriarchy exists and if we live in one. i was full on yelling. so enraged i was near tears. all while fucking DRIVING. jesus christ.

[dirtylittlesecre7]

! nsfw content !

summary | you just decided to press x to leave the damn game and that action caught the attention of a few people

warning | oral(m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, threesome

word count | 1,5k

a/n | I'm not very good at writing threesomes but I can't resist these two so...enjoy reading!

[the parts where thanos speaks english are in italics]

"yah, see that girl?" the man, whose rap lyrics were running through his head, looked where nam-gyu was pointing, nam-gyu continued "she's the girl who pressed the x, the votes are tied because of that bitch." he spoke while biting his lip nervously. thanos was staring at you with a deadpan expression at that moment, nam-gyu turned to him when he didn't say anything "it's okay man. i'm sure we'll change her mind tonight." nam-gyu didn't know what was on his mind but he smiled at what he said anyway, knowing that whatever he did, he would follow his lead.

when everyone was asleep, you got out of bed with a feeling of exasperation, turned to dae-ho who called you while putting on your jacket "where?" you mumbled "bathroom." he nodded at your short answer and told you to be careful.

a few minutes later, as you were washing your hands, the door opened, catching you off guard. what's even weirder is that two guys entered the bathroom while you were waiting for a girl, making you freeze in your place, you looked at them incomprehensibly, thanos took advantage of your surprise and jumped forward "oh! who do i see? i'm glad you're alive, baby." you quickly moved to the side to escape his arms reaching out to you, nam-gyu rolled his tongue in his mouth and took a few steps closer, said "come on... don't be like this, we're just here for a little talk. I'll tell you what..." he held your arm tightly so that you wouldn't back down and approached your ear, at that moment thanos put a colorful candy from his necklace that you didn't recognize into his mouth, nam-gyu's breath tickled your neck soon "come to our team and everything will be easier for you, hm?" he pulled back with a grin. you quickly pulled your arm away from him "you're crazy, find yourself another toy."

before you could even get out of the bathroom thanos grabbed you by the waist and took you to a toilet cubicle and sat you on the toilet. nam-gyu entered the cabin and locked the door behind him. and at that moment, you only prayed that you wouldn't die. "no no no señorita...you...are so much more than a toy. no harm, okay? i promise. just...a little deal, vote O on the next vote and we'll protect you." you looked at the two of them for a while. saying you'd press O and betraying them after you got out of here would only mean the end of you. you tried to find a logical way out but it never helped when two pairs of eyes were staring at you from head to toe as if they were going to eat you, you finally opened your mouth and spoke with a shaky voice "if..i don't..?"

yes, i'm definitely dead right now. that was the only thing going through your mind, you were trying to stop your legs from shaking as you prepared yourself for this. nam-gyu let out a short laugh, and thanos followed him, before you could comprehend what was happening, thanos held your face between his hands and lifted your head towards him, the smile on his face hadn't left but it was making you even more nervous "look baby..i'm not sure we got along. do you want us to solve this in a way you can understand?"

to be honest, he didn't even wait for you to answer, he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you to your feet and leaned you against the cabin door. when he bent his head down and brought it to your neck, you held your breath for a moment, the owner of the breathing sounds you felt on the other side was none other than nam-gyu, "you're nervous." you had to hold yourself back from laughing hysterically at gyu's whisper. like oh shit you're kidding? "it's okay señorita, we'll help you relax and make sure you press O in tomorrow's vote. but for now..."

nam-gyu's hand brushed against your bare skin under your shirt, the small and slow movements making you take shallow breaths while he just watched you with a grin "fucking cute." thanos' kisses were gentle and slow, unlike what you expected. until he left a harsh bite "fuck!" your almost painful voice only made the purple-haired man laugh and continue, the heat in your body was increasing, your inability to resist was making things even harder. you wanted it somehow and they both knew it, they continued shamelessly as a result.

they soon had your clothes all over the floor. "fuck.." thanos muttered under his breath, nam-gyu was no different. "come here." the voice made you turn around, nam-gyu was sitting on the toilet, his legs slightly apart so you could sit comfortably on his lap, you swallowed hard, you couldn't believe you were doing this in a place so close to death. but as you sat on his lap, those thoughts slowly left you. thanos pulled down his pants and made you face his swollen cock, one hand grabbed your chin roughly and lifted it slightly. "open your mouth, angel." his deep voice made your heart skip a beat, you slightly opened your mouth for him, he touched the tip to your tongue, and teased himself before taking it all in.

you were about to push your head forward and take more in when a finger brushed against your clit, making you moan, nam-gyu moved your underwear to the side, his fingers meeting your wetness and let out a breath. "fuck..you annoying slut. so much rejection but also so much wetness." nam-gyu's fingers and dirty talk made you squirm in place. thanos' hands went behind your neck at this point and made you take all of him in your mouth without mercy "oh fuck baby- yes- like that." the raspy moans coming from his neck reached your ears, nam-gyu didn't wait any longer and he put two fingers in your wet cunt, you moaned against thanos' cock. while there were fingers destroying you on one hand, the hand on your head was causing your mouth to be filled with a big cock on the other, your eyes filled with tears as you couldn't stand the pain and pleasure anymore, you let out a whimper.

gyu watched a tear run down your cheek with a grin, his breath reached your ear "can't even take this much, hm?" his fingers sped up, as you let out another moan, it sent a vibration to thanos's cock and he moaned the same way "fuck- you're gonna make me come in your fucking mouth.." nam-gyu curled his fingers inside you, hitting your pleasure point a few times and watched how you writhed in pleasure, he loved it, he loved watching you writhed in pain and how your tears filled your cheeks. you were pathetic but beautiful at the same time.

thanos bent his head, watching you take him into your tiny mouth, that sight alone was enough for him to come, your beautiful tears had made your cheeks shiny, looking at him with such pathetic eyes, and If you think they'll leave you alone from now on, you were wrong. oh these two would definitely be on guard duty waiting for you to go to the bathroom at night.

"i'm fucking close..yeah? do you want me to cum in your mouth baby? oh- fuck- i'm sure you want it, i'll make sure you get it all." you knew you were close too, you didn't think you could hold it back any longer, damn it to nam-gyu's fingers were destroying you so well. as you moved your hips, he pressed a small kiss to your neck. "you are going to make a mess on my fingers? huh? oh..you're not even able to talk, are you? how pathetic.." your whimpering increased, you were lucky that thanos' cock was filling your mouth or you were sure the guards would hear you.

thanos came into your mouth after a while with a deep groan from his throat, he stood there for a while to make sure you got it all. when he pulled back, he wiped the semen that had leaked from the corner of your mouth with his thumb and made you open your mouth again and lick his finger. you pulled back and leaned your head on nam-gyu's shoulder, trying to suppress your moans, when his ringed fingers hit your pleasure spot hard a few more times, and you finally came, you couldn't hold yourself back and were about to let out a loud moan when his free hand covered your mouth "shh.." his fingers were completely filled with your juices, he finally pulled out of you and let you stay on his lap until you calmed down, at that moment thanos put on his pants and opened the door and took a step outside. you both followed him out, a hand grabbed your arm "deal baby? you know what to do in the next vote." you didn't even have the strength to speak, you just nodded in agreement. the sight amused those two, already seemed to love destroying you "good girl." thanos walked out of the bathroom, nam-gyu following him, giving you one last look before leaving, you just knew that from today on, things were never going to get any easier.

[gothicfied]

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 Headcanons

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff

જ⁀➴ Considering the nature of this environment and the people you're surrounded by, you didn't speak up or made yourself noticeable at all. You kept your thoughts and worries to yourself, pretending like it didn't bother you that the players around you were being killed off left and right. And, it worked: no one seemed to bother you or notice you in the first place. Except for one guy.

જ⁀➴ Your bed was directly under Dae-ho's. After being so rattled up by Red-Light-Green-Light, you just sat there on the thin mattress, staring down at your food. The commotion next to you about Gi-hun, a previous winner of these games, didn't interest you at all. Your attention was drawn to Dae-ho though, when he dropped down from his bed with a loud thud.

"Oh," he looked at you with a concerned look, "hey there. Are you okay?"

જ⁀➴ Kickstarting your 'friendship', if a friendship is even possible in this place, you were kindly accepted into Gi-hun's little group, alongside In-ho, Dae-ho and Jung-bae. From the beginning, it seemed like Dae-ho was more concerned with your wellbeing than his own. He'd often share his meals with you, as a general act of kindness. And, it warmed your heart, considering he kept nagging Jung-bae for his milk or water or whatever it was.

જ⁀➴ He'd always keep you an arms length away from him at most, feeling responsible for your survival during the games. He was a marine after all, he needed to protect you, no matter what was to come. You'd show your appreciation with hugs and endless thank-you's when saved from literal death. Dae-ho would just laugh it off, claiming that you'd do the same for him. And you definitely would.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho's a sweet guy with a good heart, refusing to continue the games in the next voting, even if it meant he couldn't pay off his debt completely. Not only did he hate to see other players die (obviously), but he was genuinely scared to lose one of his friends. Especially you. He developed an undeniable adoration for you and he was determined to get you out of here, so that he actually has a chance of living a normal life with you.

જ⁀➴ Your presence alone made him nervous, in the good way, of course. While the others started to notice, you seemed to be oblivious. You'd accept every little compliment with a smile, say something nice back and then go on with your task, completely missing the fact that Dae-ho's cheeks were turning a bright pink. And, to be honest, he was really glad you didn't seem to notice at first.

જ⁀➴ Before lights out, he'd lean down and whisper a quiet "Good night." and after you wake up, you'd be greeted by a fairly cheery "Good morning!". Dae-ho just needed to reassure himself that you were safe and alive, wanting to be the last thing you see when you go to sleep and the first thing you see in the morning, too.

જ⁀➴ When it was your turn to guard the makeshift safety spot that Gi-hun made you guys set up, Dae-ho would stay up alongside you. He'd tell you to go back to sleep and that he could handle doing a double shift, but you refused, wanting to have some alone time with him. His voice was soothing in a stressful time like this and he, somehow, always found the right words to say to calm you down.

"Look, I know we didn't meet under the right circumstances by any means," he started, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, "but I'm still glad we did. You're really brave, you know?" You just chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "I'm really glad we met, too."

જ⁀➴ Whenever Dae-ho was showing signs of distress or discomfort, you'd try to distract him or comfort him by side-hugging him and speaking reassuring words. You noticed that, while he did his best to protect everyone, he definitely needed that as well from time to time.

જ⁀➴ When not being able to sleep at night, you'd sit up and look if Dae-ho was awake as well. For some reason, as if he had developed a sixth sense for you, he'd wake up, feeling your eyes on him. If you try to apologize he'd wave it off, inviting you up to his bed to talk.

જ⁀➴ Even if these beds were small for two people, you'd manage to lay down comfortably, his one arm wrapped around your waist, to keep you from falling off. Your head rests against his chest while you talked his ears off about something Dae-ho couldn't focus on. His mind was just filled with you and the feeling of your body against his.

જ⁀➴ You guys definitely fell asleep like that.

જ⁀➴ And Jung-bae definitely made everyone look before waking you up.

[floralscented]

dean winchester x angel!reader — it's okay, it's okay.

or, dean breaks everything he touches, including himself. or, the first time dove has to use her grace.

cw, angst, injured!dean, he walks you through it kind of, dean whimpers but at what cost

word count: 2k

notes, this doesn't count toward my vote. if dean x angel wins u WILL get another i am loyal to my word!! i just got this idea n needed to get it out before i forget < 3 sorry ahead of time if it is 1) sad or 2) sucks it's late ok </3

★ ˚⋆

everyone always says the same thing when the worst comes true, but it reigns true every time - this was never meant to happen.

sure, dean could have been more careful. sure, he could have spent more time worrying about his mortal, breakable body, and not the ageless angel who'd attached to his hip. he'd gotten... used to it, more than anything, because accepting it wasn't the right word.

no, he did not want you at his side at every turn. that gave him another body to fuss over, to make sure didn't get hurt, no matter the cost. even if it was irrational. but dammit, it was you.

you were resilient. he was certain you could take care of yourself, but he panicked when he saw the claw emerging from the pitch black, heading right for your direction. dean knew, logically, that you sensed it coming, that you could have protected yourself-

he took the swipe of gashes to the shoulder anyways. a long swipe. shoulder to sternum - couldn't feel it through the daze of adrenaline, but he could feel the blood. so much blood, and so close to his heart-

"dean!"

your voice pulses in his ears like its own heartbeat. is he losing consciousness? fuck.

your footsteps pound on the dusty dirt trail in the forest, running up to where he was slumped against the nearest tree. dean coughed, blood staining his bottom lip, metal and copper clashing violently on his tongue.

"hi, dove," he whispers, trying to breath life back into his voice, falling just short. "little worse for wear, aren't i?"

"now is not the time for jokes." you kneel next to him, your eyes flitting quickly over his body until they land on the wet crimson slashes across his chest. "you bleed."

his lips quirk, even as the adrenaline is wearing and he's starting to feel the stark pain of the extent of his injuries, because he can't help it. "i do bleed," he says, wincing as the huff of laughter falls out of his mouth rips at his already ripped skin. "s'what happens when you get hurt."

"why did you get hurt?" you demand, fierce and defiant even when he's facing death. good god, he adored you. "i will live. i heal. you..."

dean knew. he knew this. how did he explain this to you, when you didn't even understand what his feelings meant?

"i've heard i look pretty good covered in blood," he says instead. "that true?"

your nimble fingers clamp hard on dean's jaw, forcing him to turn and look at you. so much feist in one ageless body. "now. is not. the time."

"you're so pretty," he breathes, his eyes melting in and out of focus. "so damn pretty when you're mad at me."

your face contorts in a mix of confusion and outrage. this, he thought, is why he doesn't tell you the other things he's been dying for in his mind. as much as dean loves your furious pout, as much as he loves the way you take that damn lip between your teeth again as you think how to stop his dying, it's better to keep you at a distance.

"the bag," dean nods to the duffel he'd dropped in his haste, a couple of feet from you, "get the bag for me, sweet girl."

he can sense the why? on your lips, and smiles, just slightly, when it doesn't come. too detrimental of circumstances for you to question is every ask and call, it seems. how bittersweet it is to be a priority only when he's dying.

you clamber back over with the bag, all but dropping it on his knee in your hurry. dean didn't even tell you what to look for before you'd unzipped it and started digging. "there's bandage wrap in there, somewhere," he rasps out, nodding his head toward you, even though you're not looking at him, "need it. to stop the bleeding."

your hands are shaking. he has nothing else to look at but you - wouldn't look anywhere else regardless - but it's the first thing his eyes lock on. "hey," he says, a little more firmly, even as it makes him wince, "s'okay. it's okay."

"you are dying, and i am useless." you snatch up a small square of shiny wrapping, and he has an explanation for why, exactly, he carries condoms everywhere, but you don't even question it. he forgot that you were too focused on him to be your usual, curious self. "this? will it protect you?"

dean pauses. now is not the time, your words echo in his head, and still, he can't help it. "protects a part of me."

you scoff, and he's upset, for a second, that the joke goes over your head. another thing he should have taught you about. upset again when you the condom also goes over your head and into the dirt with your dismissive toss.

should have. how dramatic was that? already thinking in past tense, because the pain has ebbed again, and that's never good. he was relatively calm before when he could feel it, knowing that, at the very least, it meant he could feel, but-

your hands pluck out the little roll of bandage, shaking fingers tugging at the loose end and starting to unravel it. "yeah, you've got it. not useless, dove," he mumbles, shaking his head like he vehemently denies that bogus claim. "never useless."

"what do i do with it?"

dean lifts his shirt up and over again, wincing again with a deep rumbling whimper as he feels the tear again of his skin, his muscles. a wave of nausea renders him dizzy and speechless. his arms stay raised, his vision swimming.

your irritation is so evident on your face that he's certain, right then, he's never seen you so frustrated. dean wanted to ask why, especially after all of the times you've asked him that. he didn't understand your irritation with yourself. all he needed from you was to cover up the wounds so that you could heal him without risk of him bleeding out.

"you want picked up?" you ask, tilting your head in front of dean's to force his eyes to focus on you again. "now is not the time, again."

"no-" he says, lips twitching in the corners. at the very least, you were keeping him present and conscious, what with all of your adorable attitude. he licks his dry, cracked lips and tries to ignore the copper taste on his tongue. "take that end and wrap it around. like..."

dean doesn't know if you know what a vest is, or a sash, because you don't seem to know half as much as castiel does. maybe what cas meant when he brought you into the winchesters' lives was that your naivety ran so deep because you were a new angel, a fawn trying to catch its footing and stumbling along the way.

he watches as it clicks in your mind, what he means. you are so much smarter than he gives you credit for. he leans forward, mouth falling open in a shuddery, whimpering gasp. luckily, you don't stop what you're doing and ask if he's okay. your care, it seems, either doesn't extend that far, or extends farther due to the gravity of the situation.

you straddle him as you wrap the gauze around and around, and it's damn distracting, having you this close to him again. "do it until you don't see any more of the claw marks, yeah?"

your head moves in a nod but your eyes never once leave him, focused on the task at hand. winding and winding, the gauze tightening and tightening, until his chest feels stiff with it.

"s'good," he says, raising his hand to rest his fingers on your wrist. "great job, sweet girl. here-"

his fingers walk their way down your hand until he takes the roll of gauze between them, moving the strip to his teeth and tearing until it ripped free from the roll. "there we go."

again, you stare at him expectantly, only this time, he's staring right back at you with the same anticipation in his eyes. "go on, dove. do your divine thing."

a blink. a second blink. "i don't know how."

his heart, he thinks, falls down to his ass. bypasses the gaping wound in his sternum and drops.

"that would have been great to know before i took the fucking-" he can't even be mad at you. he's dizzy, starting to shiver, and yet the idea of hurting you made him feel worse than all of those things combined.

"i did not ask you to!" no, you didn't, but what was a man who was used to jumping in front of the bullets to do? "i did not ask, and you were not supposed to be stupid."

dean forces a strained smile. "sweetheart, s'kind of my thing."

you bend down, still straddling, close enough that your nose brushes his. fuck. he was going to die without knowing what it was like to close that gap. "not the time-"

"for jokes, yeah, i- i get that," he grumbles, throat thick, spluttering on a cough. blood splatters in a hapless pattern on his shirt, on yours. "think i'm- allowed t'joke when i'm dyin'."

"you are not." your eyes stay locked onto his. there's so much passion in them that they glimmer and glitter even now, in the dead of night. "not, to either of those things. i will..."

dean hates your expression. the defeated, helpless panic in it a stark contrast to your resilient eyes. he wants to comfort you. wants to smooth the pinched skin between your brows with his thumb, but everything's starting to feel a little heavy. "cas-" his head thumps back against the wall. "uses his hands. touch."

your expression softens. there it is again, that determined gleam overtaking every other emotion on your face. there's my girl, he thinks, even though it's a thought he's never allowed himself to think before, about you. his inhibitions are lessened now, though, and who is he to hide a thing from you?

slowly, your hands lift to his cheeks, cupping his face between your palms. your skin is so warm, and his is so cold, and he can't look away from your eyes. dean's never believed in someone as much as he does you, right now.

your eyes close, and he's still looking. his head leans forward and knocks against yours, like he can't get close enough. he'd do anything to know what your lips tasted like. if they were as sweet as you were, or as furious as you tended to get.

"it's not-" you growl, and he opens his mouth to say something to counteract the rush of heat your gravelly voice shoots through his icy veins, when- "fuck it."

two beats of shock wrack through him, and he has no time, not a split second at all, to prepare for the way your mouth crashes into his. his eyes blink wide in shock before a wave of warmth starts in his chest and spreads like roots through his blood and deep in his veins. he sees the blue-white flash of your grace as it spreads around the both of you.

you pull back so suddenly that your lips pop, staring at him expectantly. no, not dean, his red soaked bandages on the outside of his torn shirt. you give him no time to process it before you're clawing at it, tearing it down the center. "jesus, dove-" his eyes drop down to follow your gaze.

the only remnants of his injury were the dried streaks of blood running down his chest, pale red and shiny in the areas still drying in the cold night air.

you laugh, soft and hesitant, and it's the prettiest noise dean has ever heard. "if i'd known i just had t'almost die t'get you to kiss me," he says slowly, "i'd have done it a lot sooner."

even if it was hardly a kiss - more of a collision. he'd just have to teach you how he liked it, later.

tags,

@figthoughts, @jasvtsc, @titsout4nicholas, @deanswidow, @whyyouegg,

@bombarda-babe, @whisperingwillowxox, @underground-secret,

@bitchykittenconnoisseur, @jensenacklesantidote,

@keira-kaz2y5, @ostaramoon, @depressionbarbie2023, @ultravi0lence14, @loverslantern,

@bleuatlas, @minettacreekk, @sthefferrete

[dilf-docs]

It Always Leads To You

joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a year; now you're back. how can joel be so sure of those old summer feelings in your eyes when there's a new hand holding yours?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, toxic relationship, cheating and infidelity themes, mutual pinning, kinda dark!joel, smut, p. in v., pussy pronouns, oral (f. receiving), fingering, manhandling, lowkey forced creampie, ANGST, the taylor swift evermore (2020) references go wild, happy ending cause y'all weak asses voted for it and i love to keep my citizens happy!

word count: 5,199 words

side note: my joel miller era is alive and breathing after this tlou re-watch i'm doing my brother swears it's for him but it's mostly me and my fic/womanly reasons, yes we love gaslight girlkeep girlbossing in here gotta say, finding inspiration for this amidst my wattpad duties and christmas movie marathon was harder than i thought lol. was it worth the wait? please like, comment and reblog to let me know! it's based on this request (they're still open btw!)

part: I / II

Holidays linger like bad perfume.

Your eyes wander through the streets: the roads you've got to call home, the ones where you grew up. They're familiar, but so foreign, it's hard to believe they're the same ones where you scrapped your knees at ten and kissed Joel just last winter. It's as if both timelines, your life, feels more like two separate lives, miles apart.

"Hey, you okay?" tender, from the driver's seat; you're still getting used to the soft.

There's a reassuring smile your way, his hand finding yours to give it a squeeze. You notice his palm is the same size as yours. It fits perfectly, but there's a ghost of what it feels like to have it all wrapped up, looming over your itchy palm like all the yearning's a joke.

You nod. "Just tired. That's all"

He sighs. "If I wanted you to lie to me, I would've just asked"

"I'm not lying" you defend yourself as his pickup truck parks on the sidewalk.

He makes a funny face, and you laugh.

"I'm serious, Nick" your lips purse, a thing you do when you lie, yet he still hadn't noticed, like Joel. "Don't worry"

He doesn't look that convinced, so you take off your seat belt and grab his hand.

"C'mon. Mom and dad must be waiting for us"

"Hey" Nick calls you out.

"Yeah?"

"Who lives there?" and he's pointing behind you.

It's his. Joel's house.

"A friend of my dad's" you answer, dryly.

It was last december when you stood there in his porch, begging. It feels like time has stopped ever since, and you're still right where he left you.

"So will he be here?" Nick asks. "You know, since he knows your dad"

"Don't think so" you shrug, "he's got better things to do anyway. Bitter old man" comes out, with more venom than intended.

"Oh! Alright, sorry for asking"

You come back to your senses, realizing you've shared more than you should.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that important; let's just go inside"

Your mom and dad greet you as soon as you cross the door. Last year, you'd basically fled away before New Year's, with a poor excuse and a broken heart. They both greet you as if nothing happened, although you're sure they remember your tear streamed face coming back from Joel's house, where it all ended.

As your mom corners Nick with kisses and embarrassing questions, your dad whispers to you:

"Joel asked what happened" you quirk and eyebrow, "wanted to know why you left"

"Eh, it's not important" you try to dismiss. "Definitely not as important for a guy like Joel to know"

"What is that supposed to mean?" your dad inquires. You often wonder if they knew.

"Nothing" you laugh nervously. "Listen, why don't you go and meet Nick, yeah? Did you know he likes fishing too?"

The distraction works with your dad; the same can't be said about you.

There's conversation flowing, but through the snow covered window, your eyes keep glancing back to his own. The view is dark, and you ponder if he's fled as well, the town plagued with memories too painful to reminisce.

You can still feel his hands roaming your body, the lust filled gaze that hid warmth. Every time he touches you, you have to remind you he isn't there: that the lips that kiss you, don't taste like his, that the hands that hold you, aren't big as his, and that the face that looks at you like they'll never choose another, is one you haven't learned to love yet.

Joel's memory cuts like thorns: they sink their teeth into your heart, that bleeds with that blood-colored sadness you're all too familiar with. He's poisoned you. But-- isn't it his love also the antidote for this disease he's gave you?

You abruptly stand up, plate half eaten.

"I-I need some air"

It's cold outside, but you don't care. All you want to do is sit on the porch, and drop some tears, something you can do inside too, but the fear of your muffled cries being able to be heard stops you.

You walk towards the stairs, to sit there like you do on summer days, yet there's now a difference: the snow. So you end up slipping, falling with your butt on the floor.

You yelp, embarrased although no one can see you.

"Need help?"

That you're wrong, apparently.

You don't even need to raise your view to know who that voice belongs to: you know it like a record, spinning in circles on your head.

He offers his strong hand your way, and although the cold wind hits your face, you're back to spring on the cabin: wet feet, bright sun and beating heart.

"I can get up myself" you reject his help, pushing the hand out. You keep avoiding his gaze, so you don't see how he's reacted, yet you hope he feels bad about it.

You walk up to the front door, and it takes you a while to realize he hasn't left yet. On top of that, it seems like he's following you. Just what you needed.

"What are you doing here?" you question, but your tone sounds like you're offended.

"Your folks invited me over" Joel answers, "Says they got a special guest"

"Yeah" this time, you do look back, finding him to be much closer than you thought he'd be. Yet you stand tall, defiant even. "It's my boyfriend"

You savour the way his expression falters, before the stoic façade takes over again.

"Boyfriend?" Joel scoffs, as if you just told the funniest joke ever.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" you bite back. "What? Think a pretty girl can't get a new man?"

"Never said I'd doubt'it" he clicks his tongue. "Y'a could get any man you'd want, sugar"

Ironically, the only man you want stands before you.

"Right" you chuckle dryly, "I think it's kind of funny of you to say that"

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a clash of emotions circling in his chocolate orbs.

"Y/n-"

"Don't" you stop him. Then sigh, defeated. "Let's just go inside"

As soon as you both arrive on the dinning room, your parents both greet Joel. Then, they introduce him to their guest, just as promised.

"Joel, this is Nick, y/n's boyfriend" your father speaks. "Nick, this is Joel, a dear old friend of mine"

Nick, as the gentleman he is, offers his hand. Joel accepts, but you can see the barely desguised displease behind his eyes.

"Wow, strong grip" Nick comments before joking, "you can let go now, I'm not going anywhere"

The hidden meaning of his words, whether intentional or not, hit Joel in the face. It's obvious by the way he backtracks, letting go of Nick's hand.

As you sit again, Nick leans to your side and whispers.

"Is this the guy who lives in the house across the street?" you nod. "Thought you'd said he had better plans. But, see? I told you: no plan's more important than coming to your house"

He's always making jokes, trying to make you smile, but it's done the opposite now. The food has gone cold long ago, yet you cut through the meat with a violence so palpable, even your mom tells you to slow down.

The nerve of Joel, showing up to your house like it's nothing, talking to you like he's unaware of his spell on you, acting like Nick is some sort of competition when he pulled out of the race himself a winter ago.

"So, Nick. How did you two meet?" your mom adresses him, eager to know details.

"It was at a party, actually, through mutual friends. Not a very spectacular story, that I know. What's funny is, she asked me what hour it was. And what did I say?"

"He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said: For you, I'm available any hour" you answer.

Your parents laugh, but Joel remains quiet. You wonder what he's thinking.

"You know" looking at Nick while cutting the steamed vegetables a little too agressive, "y/n actually hates parties"

"Joel" you warn through gritted teeth.

"Really? I didn't know that!" Nick seems so genuine, Joel can't help but hate him. He looks at you, concerned "You didn't tell me"

You can't believe he would rat you out like that. The appropiate word isn't hate, and you don't know how to describe it, but parties aren't really your environment; if you can, you'd choose to be anywhere else.

He'll pay for that.

"Joel" you seethe, an ugly smile painted in your features, "did you know Nick knows how to fish?"

It's a direct jab at him. He feels stupid for letting you get to him. The inferiority complex towards some random guy he just met, years younger, is actually laughable.

"I like-" Nick wants to add on that.

"Well" Joel interrupts, looking at you. "You never taught me like ya' were s'pposed to"

"You never cared to learn" you reply, acidic.

He sips his drink, trying to hide the smirk that's formed on his lips. You can't shut up, and he loves you've stayed the same.

"That means I've got some classes to take" Joel leans back on his chair, relaxed like he's won this round. "Just tell me when"

The tension cuts like the storm that's just formed outside.

"You should stay over, Joel" your dad offers when he takes a peak at the climate, "it's too dangerous outside"

Joel seems indestructible, like not even a snow blizzard could pierce through the rough old man. But he agrees, much to your dismay.

It's probably midnight already, and all you've done is toss around the bed. Nick peacefully snores next to you, and you envy how easily he falls asleep. You've always find it hard to sleep, the nighttime plagued with too many loud thoughts that fill the silence.

You get up carefully, heading downstairs for some water. You sip with tranquility when a noise jolts you from your sit.

The wooden floor creaks, making you aware you're not alone anymore.

"Can't sleep?"

You don't answer, seeing his sturdy figure emerge from the shadows until the dim moonlight shines over his aging features. Silence settles in. Outside, the wind howls, bumping against the windows with violence, like your heart does now against your chest.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"There's nothing to talk" cuts your response through the thick tension, the air suddenly suffocating.

You take another sip, but the tremble of your hand doesn't go unnoticed by Miller.

"Right" Joel sits next to you, on the kitchen island. "Won't even look at me, sugar? You've got eyes" his voice drops, "use 'em"

"What are you doing, Joel?" you ask looking at him, tears threatening to spill, making your bright eyes shimmer with pain.

He gets up abruptly, like he's woken up from a trance. He's seen his own pain on your eyes, and he hates it.

"Joel?" you ask again, demanding but softly.

He can't answer. Instead, he leaves.

"Goodnight, y/n" voice raw, many emotions boiling, hidden on the inside. It hurts.

If you hadn't changed, Joel too stayed the same.

A goddamn coward.

Two days have passed since, and now it's Christmas Eve.

You kneel, putting the presents under the tree. Normally, your parents would have much more people around for the holidays, but thanks to the storm, it's just them, Nick, Joel and you.

"I'm gonna miss Mrs. Stone's cookies" you pout, "I wish she could be here"

"It's a big loss for tonight" your dad sighs. "Next time, yeah? Christmas will come again faster than you think"

You nod, still absent as he walks away.

"Hey" Joel pops up behind, seemingly from nowhere.

"Hey" you reply, voice laced with tiredness just at the sight of him. How will you manage to survive until New Year's? You have no idea, the task harder if he's staying in the same house as you are.

"Put this in there, will ya'?"

He hands you a box, neatly wrapped up. What stands out the most is the silver bow on top. Your stomach drops: it's your favorite color.

"Y-yeah" you stammer. When the present falls in your hands, you notice it looks like Joel did it himself.

"Didn't know you were capable of nice things" you whisper. There's no anger in your voice, only loss.

"I'm trying" is what he says, before leaving you alone. Until then, you realize he had been touching you, the skin where his hand was on your shoulder burning.

Dinner goes by swiftly, conversation flowing easily courtesy of Nick and your father, who both have in common the love for talking. It may be your brain messing with you, but his eyes never leave you, fixated on your every move, savoring when your lips open and take a bite; when you lick them afterwards, salt in your mouth he'd love to take off in a movement of his tongue. The ghost of your lips haunts him, cruelly playing with his yearning now that he's got you across the table. It's a few centimeters, really, but it feels like you're miles away: and it's his fault. You're no longer his, and he's reminded of it every time your boyfriend kisses what he once had.

Now it's time to open the presents, and you excitedly raise your hand to go first.

"Alright, sweetheart. You know I can't deny you anything" your father beams, "go ahead. Choose any present you'd like to open first"

Joel's eyes are on you, and you know he's desperately waiting for you to open his first. Maybe partly in courage, maybe partly in fear, but you choose Nick's first: something safe to start with.

"That's mine!" he chirps, and Joel mockingly imitates his kid-like joy under his breath.

You unwrap the present, finding a small box inside.

"Please, don't be another box" you joke, and he laughs.

"You think that low of me? Please"

You keep unwrapping and find a bag. The bag has a small tag that reads: Gotcha.

"Nick! God, you're so corny" you tease as you open the bag. Inside, there's a velvet box, and by the looks of it, you can tell it's jewelry. You gasp, pulling out a silver charm tied to a silver thin chain: it's a marlin fish. "Nick..."

"I know. Marlin isn't your favorite fish, but that's all I could find" you get up, wrapping him on a tight hug. Aware you've got an audience, he leans and whispers "I knew fishing was special to you, because of your dad and childhood. Maybe now" he takes it from your hands, carefully putting it around your neck, "it can also be our special thing"

Joel sees the scene unfold in front of him, his grip tight on the cloth of his jeans until it's white. His jaw clenches at the affection display; all he sees is red.

"What about that one?" your mom points out Joel's present. A pit of nerves forms in your stomach. "I don't remember seeing it there"

Before you can grab it, your dad moves faster, examining the box on his hands.

"It's Joel's" he makes a pause, "for y/n"

You pretend to be shocked, and you can tell Nick tenses at your side.

"You didn't tell me you were close"

"Used to" you correct quickly, despite the knot on your throat. "Not anymore"

"He still got you a present, though"

You don't get to answer because your dad leaves the box on your lap.

"Open it" it's soft but feels threathing for some reason, "I'm curious"

Joel's resting hands tremble as much as yours while you open the present. You reveal the simple white box under the wrap, opening it up.

Your voice comes out shaky as you call his name. And he can see it: the muffled laughters on the shed, the warmth of the cabin's fire, the fogged up windows of his car, the bruises on your tits and that voice, so vulnerable, he can see you on his porch, saying those three words that terrified him so much, his solution was breaking your heart.

"What is it?" your dad asks.

"It's a scarf" the fabric tickles your fingers that wander through the loose strands.

You remember it all too well.

"Oh, it's vintage!" your mom comments when she sees the worn-out aspect.

But just as your affair with Joel, you keep the secret of it's real owner.

"It's perfect" you mutter, remembering better times: ones where he'd wrap the scarf colored as the leaves on the ground around your neck, covering bruises he'd just made while you joked you'd steal it, and Joel would say he'd just let you, that it looked better on you anyway.

You've forgotten the good, so used to thinking of Joel at your worst, like a punishment to endure and sink your shipwreck even deeper. You felt lost, replaying memories that seemed stuck on a loop. Since last december, all you've known is pain; creeping up through the cracks in your fleeting happiness, one you've tried to find to no avail. One day, past the curses and cries, maybe there'll be happiness. But as for now, that day seems terribly far.

As he sees your teary gaze, Joel often wonders were it went wrong. When did hurt was all you had for him in that gaze of yours he can't bare to look that long, not before he's reliving all those seasons by your side, replaying his footsteps on the snow, grass, water and fallen leaves, trying to find the one where it all went wrong. The torture he now wears like a second skin, his agony painted words addressed to the fire of a house that feels so empty and alone.

"We should continue" your dad speaks over the silence, "there are still many presents left"

The night moves slowly, and the scarf you've chosen to wear is now suffocating around your neck. But you can't take it off. This is the closest you've been to Joel on a year; it still smells like him. As the presents run out, you excuse yourself early to bed, only to wake up again in the middle of the night. You want to pee, so you exit your room and walk to the bathroom, your bare feet against the cold wood sending shivers down your spine that only seem to augment when you walk past his door, next to the bathroom. After being done, you splash some water on your face, as if that would make some sense get to you.

"What are you doing?" you ask yourself in the mirror. Your tired reflection stares back at you, in silence.

You open the door, ready to go back to bed when a hand covers your mouth and shoves you inside.

"Don't scream" your cries go muffled against his hand, the calloused digits pressing against your soft skin, "wanna wake 'em up?"

You shake your head, so he lets your mouth free.

"Joel" you call out, but he's facing the door, his back all you see. No sound can be heard, aside from his uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry" he says, and then you hear the small click of the door's lock.

"What the hell?"

This time, he faces you, but his movements are so quick you don't register his lips on yours until it's too late. He kisses you like a starved man who hasn't had a meal in years, eating you out while your body acts up on it's own, the urgency embarrasing even.

"No" you pull back. Your mind screams in guilt at how much you want this, and that's all you can hear aside from his ragged breaths.

"No?"

"It isn't fair"

"To lover boy out there?" he teases, "I know he ain't treating you right, or ya' wouldn't look me the way ya' do"

"Don't, Joel" your tone is icy, "Nick treats me better than you ever could"

He laughs, darkly. "You know I ain't meant that" he corners you against the sink, the material cold against your bare legs; you don't sleep with nothing but an oversized t-shirt, despite the weather.

"Riddle me this, sugar: if he treats you so well, why are you so fucking wet?"

Your heart beats so fast you fear you'll die. He gets closer, his hot breathe prickling against your ear.

"It takes a man to please a woman" he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, "and I ain't leaving my baby displeased"

His fingers pull down the panties until your clit is exposed.

"Look at 'er" he traces a teasing finger over the puffy skin, coated on your slick "missed me, didn't she? Gonna treat 'er so good, she won't ever feel lonely again"

He softly kisses your neck, the trepidation and regret tying your stomach in knots.

Joel teases your needy core with his finger.

"Tell you somethin', sugar" Joel finds it hard to hide his adoration, "I missed 'er too"

He stares into your eyes while pushing two rough fingers inside your cunt. You bite your lip, holding back your moans.

"Need summ help?" he kisses you roughly, smirking when he feels your shaky breath against his lips. He pushes them in and out faster, making your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

"Did he ever have you comin' this fast? I'ont think so" he whispers against your neck. You whisper his name through labored breaths, making a smug smile adorn his features. "Good girl"

He proceeds to kneel down, despite the creak of his bones. You see him leave a trail of kisses down your thighs, your legs opening wider in response. His tongue gives rapid flickers against your sensitive bud, aware of the lack of time. He slurps the pulsing cunt, his head moving back and forth while he sucks, coating his moustache on your juices. Joel goes back to the quick movements, tongue knowing your spots and twisting fingers as aid, causing your back to arch.

"Fuck" you curse as you come, gripping the sink a bit too tight.

Joel then pulls away and places his fingers coated in your arousal in his mouth and licks them. He sees the obscene display in the fogged mirror, satisfied.

"Goodnight, sugar" Joel bids goodbye like it's nothing, kissing your lips that taste like you. "Still as sweet as ever"

It's New Year's Eve.

"You're leaving?" you sound so sad, Joel can't help but scoff. In the end, he'd stayed long after the storm had passed, your father arguing holidays weren't meant to be spent alone. So he stayed.

And now, Nick is leaving.

"I'm sorry" he apologizes for the millionth time, "but granny is sick. I don't know if she'll make it another year, so say the doctors. I would love to stay, really, but I have to be with her"

You understand, having lost your grandad years ago. But that doesn't mean you're okay with it: Nick leaving means a clear path for Joel, who didn't stop with him sleeping next room, and certainly won't now, despite not having interacted with you since he ate you out on the bathroom.

He pulls you into a long hug and a kiss that doesn't feel the same anymore. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah" you nod, "I'll miss you though"

"Well, I'll be all yours when you get back"

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"See you, y/n. I love you"

Your lips purse after you utter those three words back.

Later at night, the house is filled with guests. The lively environment is restored, and you feel less confined to Joel's claws, so many faces to speak and distract yourself with, compared to Christmas and the past couple of days. You clutch the marlin charm tightly, mind busy wandering to places it shouldn't. Joel stares at you from across the room, eyes trained on you as he sips his drink calmly, like he's won; you don't know why he's keeping score if he already knows it. You wander off to the kitchen, and Joel follows you.

"You have to stop" you speak as soon as he enters, aware he would follow you.

"I ain't do shit"

You turn around, facing him. "Bullshit, Joel"

"Tell me, what'd I do?" he comes closer, and despite your erratic heart and fear, you stay still; challenging.

"You did this, Joel" his expression falters for a second, the weight of last december's crimes dawning on him. "Don't try to make me feel guilty"

"I ain't. That wasn't your fault" he sighs, breath dragging long like a cigarrette. "But this" he motions with his hands the reduced distance, "this it is"

Your breath hitches.

"We can't keep doing this, Joel. Nick doesn't deserve it"

He pins you against the counter with force, gripping the skin of your wrists until you're sure you'll get a bruise. Joel's eyes darken at the thought of your frail and soft body under his rough figure and belly, his strength and your weakness making the job of putting you under his will, so much easier.

"Don't say his name" he whispers, his breath laced with alcohol, "he ain't here anymore. Ain't nothing to stop me now, right, sugar?" Joel purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before starting a heated kiss, making you stumble.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right, the missing pieces falling like dominoes.

He was your pain divine: you needed his hurt to bleed and feel alive again. Maybe the red of the blood and the blue of your sadness could paint your darkest grey skies with a happiness you've craved since you lost him.

"Tell me to stop" Joel whispers, tempting like a devil as he kisses down your neck, littering it with hickeys.

"Don't"

Next thing you know, you're excusing yourself upstairs and then Joel goes missing too, both inside of your bedroom.

Your dress was the first thing to go.

"Wear it for me?" you're about to answer, lips pursing, but he cuts you off, "and don't lie, sugar. Don't get too used to the bad girl schtick"

"I only wore this dress so you could take it off"

He kisses you desperately, legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you to bed, and the memories of your first flood you as he drops you down to your back, watching the way you bounce. He has you just like he wanted: moaning his name while he leaves tender kisses on the soft bare flesh.

"Joel-" you gasp. Despite the chatter downstairs and music, you try to remain low as he wraps his lips around your nipples. He then moves to your breasts, covering them with his kisses and hickeys. He hadn't touched a woman ever since you left, the feeling of the rosy innocent skin on his rough teeth making him loose all common sense, the real thing even better than what he would try to conjure when he fucked himself in the bathroom at the memory of you.

He groans when he feels your hands roaming over his back, nails digging on the scarred skin.

"Someone's eager" he teases, seeing your damp underwear. "Is this 'cause of me?" you don't answer, too busy removing the cloth, only for his strong fingers to grab you and stop you. "Don't be shy, answer baby. We got a whole new year, yeah?"

"I need you Joel" you whine, not laughing at the joke "cut the crap"

He pushes you gently back down to the bed. "So needy sugar, want me to help ya'?"

You eagerly nod, making him laugh. But there's no mock, only love behind the sound.

"Will you let this old man take care of ya', pretty baby? Just use your words, and I'll be all y'rs"

"Do it, Joel. Just do it"

You gasp as your folds begin to be prodded open by the fat head of Joel's cock. You curse, feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of your walls welcoming his size making you grab his arms that stand at the sides of your body, caging you in.

His tummy pushes against your stomach as he adjusts himself, his weight sinking your body on the creaking matress.

"'S just the tip, ready for the whole thing?"

You needed him, all of him.

"Yes, Joel. I want you" You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every empty space that craved for him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his hips roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in. His sloppy thrusts pick up a familiar pace that makes you moan and beg for more, head falling against the sheets as his pace speds up until he's fucking you senseless.

Joel's brain goes blank at the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds leaving your pretty mouth. Did he really give this up? He'd definitely go back in time and slap the fuck out of his past self, because there is simply nothing better than having you under him, screaming his name like that's all you can ever say.

"Does he fuck you like this, huh?" Joel angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace. Your body jolts with each snap. "Is he enough for you?"

"Yes" his stomach drops, dark eyes now hesitant, "but he isn't you"

He pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Tell me you'll leave him, y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me who ya' really belong to"

Your eyes snap open at the possesiveness clashed with jealousy that drips from his sweat-soaked lips.

The confession falls easily, as meant to be. "Yours, Joel. Always was and will be"

He could cum just at the sight of your loving doe eyes.

Downstairs, the countdown begins, but in your room, all you can hear are his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the people would stop shouting, you could probably hear the squelch of your dripping cunt sucking in his girth with each thrust.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you feel his warm cum fill you up. Joel was always obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock. Without thinking, his rough fingers push deep in you, making you yelp as he makes sure he isn't wasting a drop behind.

The countdown ends, and fireworks erupt outside as your head rests on the crook of his sweat covered neck.

"I love ya', sugar" those words you thought you imagined that one time, now real, so goddamn real his voice quivers and eyes get tearful with grief, "'S okay if ya' don't say it. I just wanted you to hear 'em. 'M just tired of wastin' my time"

He wraps your lips with his with tenderness you had only dreamed of. There is still a lot to talk and heal, but this time, his arms hold you like a promise. And you let yourself believe it.

Y/n's New Years' purposes: 1. Break up with Nick 2. Try to explain this seasonal mess to mom and dad 3. At last, try to be happy

[jezebelblues]

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 | 𝐇.𝐒 ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

summary: it isn’t about fruit

cw: smut18+, oral (f!receiving) unedited, idk that’s it. there’s like brief mentions of cigarettes/alcohol if that’s an issue

word count: approx 3.7k

| LMFAO okay so here’s something i’ve had in the drafts for a bit. on the lil poll thing the majority of yall voted for smut so here’s a crumb i guess love u

yes it’s 70s!harry. i love u 70rry

masterlist

july 1972

harry knew of YN—a friend of mitch’s, the cousin of a girl he could still taste on his tongue.

she was always in the periphery of his world—not a groupie, not a colleague. she was the girl who held the bubblegum pink lighter to his lips if he couldn’t find his own, the girl who’d offer her red glitter pen if harry lost his black one.

so far, three songs in his notebook were written in sparkly cherry ink.

they met four months ago at a bar in california— his first night on the north american leg of the tour, she'd stood on her tiptoes to hug mitch, congratulating him over and over with a laugh like the fizz of soda on a hot day. harry remembers the scent of her hair when the breeze caught it—peach bubbly and honey. he remembers the crimson lipstick stains on the cigarette she passed him, the faint taste of her fruity cocktail on the filter.

since then, she'd been around. not a fixture, exactly, but something close to it. she didn't sing, didn't play, didn't take up too much space, but she had a knack for fitting into the cracks no one else noticed. sometimes, before a show, she'd twist his hair back just the way he liked it, or she'd swipe a bottle of polish to paint his nails in a shade that matched his shirt.

it was easy, the way she lingered. easy enough that harry never really questioned it.

now, the sucker in her mouth stained her tongue blue. her heart-shaped sunglasses, pink and a little scratched, sat low on the bridge of her nose as the sun painted the roof of the tour bus in a syrupy summer gold. she was stretched out on a towel beside him, humming a tune harry instantly recognized as his own.

he sat cross-legged next to her, the glitter pen—her glitter pen—rolling between his fingers. his notebook balanced on his knee as he scrawled down lyrics, but the words felt sluggish, stuck, like the heavy heat pressing down on them.

YN's hums drifted lazily in the air, quiet enough that the buzz of the bus engine nearly swallowed them up. her eyes were shut tight against the sun's glow, but harry couldn't help stealing glances at her. she looked serene, almost untouched by the heat that had him melting into his jeans.

the cherry-red ink glimmered faintly as he scratched another uneven line into his notebook.

with a sudden pop! she pulled the sucker from her lips and smiled without opening her eyes. "you're staring."

harry didn't flinch. he leaned back slightly and smiled—bunny teeth and dimples. "maybe you're my muse."

her laugh was soft and sharp all at once, the sound of a soda can cracking open. she propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. "hardly. if i were, you'd have more than that down by now," she teased, nodding toward the page.

harry smirked, his gaze skimming the floral pattern on her bikini bottoms, the curve of her hip. "or maybe you're just a really bad muse."

she kissed her teeth and let herself flop back down against her towel, the movement making her breasts bounce slightly in her top. harry's eyes lingered, just for a beat. she didn't seem to notice-or maybe she did, but didn't care. instead, she nudged his thigh with her toes, the sucker swirling back between her blued lips.

after a moment, she pulled it free and held it out toward him, her pink-painted nails glinting in the sunlight. "want the rest?" she grinned, tilting her head against her shoulder. "it's bubblegum in the middle. your favorite."

harry sighed theatrically, but he leaned in anyway, his butterfly creasing slightly as he plucked the sticky stick from her fingers. he turned it slowly, the blue sugar catching the light, slick with her saliva as he slid it onto his tongue. it was sweet, bright, with the faintest taste of her still lingering underneath.

she watched him with a raised brow, her grin spreading. “will you tell me who kiwis about yet?”

his lips quirked up around the candy. "no."

this was the third time she'd asked in the span of four months. it was her favorite song, or so she claimed.

it was a month prior in chicago. the aragon ballroom. he'd gone early, hours before soundcheck, to roam the venue, let his nerves settle. but that day the stage hadn't been empty. YN had been there, sitting cross-legged on the polished wood, his guitar resting in her lap. her fingers plucked at the strings hesitantly, her brows furrowed in concentration.

she wore a bright yellow bikini top that day, a pair of denim shorts slung low on her hips. the sunlight streaming through the high windows made her skin glow.

he'd stayed quiet as he approached, leaning his arms on the edge of the stage to watch. she jumped slightly when she noticed him, her cheeks flushing.

"move your hand up a bit more," his voice was soft, nodding toward her grip on the neck of the guitar.

she bit her lip, looking down to adjust her fingers. "like this?"

harry nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "press your index finger there. now try."

her cheeks darkened further, but she nodded, her focus snapping back to the strings as she strummed again-hesitant, but closer this time.

her fingers moved carefully along the frets, still hesitant, but with a quiet determination that made harry smile. the melody of kiwi—rough and unpolished—drifted softly through the empty venue, the rawness of it striking something in him. she wasn't bad, not really, but she played like someone who was just beginning to learn—calculated, deliberate, all concentration and no flow.

"it's better," he said after a moment, straightening up to rest his chin on his arms. "but you're still a little off."

she paused, sighing, her lips pressing into a line. "it doesn't sound right."

"you're playing it too clean," he laughed, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "y’have to let it be messy, loosen up a bit."

her brows furrowed, and she glanced at him, her cheeks still pink. "messy," she repeated skeptically.

"messy," he confirmed, nodding toward the guitar. "you're trying t’control it too much. let it get away from you a little."

her lips quirked up in a soft laugh as she adjusted her grip on the neck. "easy for you to say, you've been playing since you were, what, twelve?"

"eleven," he corrected, grinning wider. "but who's counting?"

she rolled her eyes but didn't argue, her gaze dropping back to the strings as she tried again. her fingers stumbled at first, the sound of a muted note ringing out across the empty hall, but she pushed through it, letting the rhythm guide her this time. harry watched as her shoulders relaxed, the line of tension in her jaw easing slightly.

"better," he praised after a moment, and her head snapped up, her face lighting up with a cautious kind of pride.

"really?"

he nodded, standing to his full height and dusting his hands against his jeans. "you'll have it down by next week at this rate, sunshine.”

she snorted, shaking her head as she set the guitar carefully to the side. "next week," she repeated, her tone dry. "sure."

"what, no faith in yourself?"

her eyes sparkled as she hopped down from the stage, brushing past him with a grin. "none at all."

harry chuckled, turning to watch her as she headed toward the venue's exit, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. her yellow bikini top gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and the sound of her soft humming lingered in the air long after she disappeared from view.

the song wasn’t about her, no, written long before they’d even met—but it stayed hers in a way he couldn't quite explain. hers like the red glitter pen that sat loosely between his fingers, like the memory of the bubblegum sucker on his tongue, like the faint scent of peach and honey still imprinted in his mind.

he let the notebook fall shut and leaned back against the roof of the bus, the sun beating down on his face. beside him, YN shifted lazily, her hand reaching out to tug the sunglasses from her nose and push them up into her hair.

“you’ll tell me one of these days, harry styles.”

he didn't answer, just let his eyes drift shut, a soft smile curling at the edges of his lips.

YN huffed dramatically, flopping onto her side to face him. The towel beneath her crinkled, and the faint scent of sunscreen mixed with the lingering sugar on her breath. “you can’t just smile at me, harry. it’s not fair.”

he peeked one eye open, his grin widening. “fair’s got nothing to do with it.”

“don’t be annoying.” she poked his chest, her nail grazing the inked swallow on his skin. “you can’t write a song like that and then act all mysterious. it’s cruel. is it about someone you dated? someone you wanted to date? tell me something.”

he pushed himself up onto one elbow, the glitter pen rolling off his notebook and landing in the crease of the towel. “and ruin the fun of you guessing every chance you get?”

she groaned, rolling onto her back again and flinging an arm over her face. her sunglasses slipped slightly in her hair, catching the sunlight. “you’re the worst,” she mumbled.

he laughed, soft and low, and let his gaze wander over her—the curve of her shoulder, the way the waistband of her bottoms dug into her hips just enough to make him wonder how her skin might feel under his thumb. “but you keep coming back,” he teased.

“not by choice,” she shot back, her voice muffled by her arm.

he leaned closer, the pendant around his neck glinting as it swung forward. “is that so?”

her arm fell away from her face, and she squinted up at him, the corner of her mouth twitching. “mitch dragged me along,” she said breezily. “i just wanted to see california. maybe get a tan. didn’t realize i’d be stuck with a rock star who thinks he’s god’s gift to songwriting.”

“a rock star, huh?” he echoed, smirking. “that what i am to you?”

her brows arched, her lips quirking into something smug. “what else would you be?”

harry didn’t answer right away. the silence stretched between them, thick and warm, broken only by the hum of the bus and the distant buzz of cicadas. YN held his gaze, unflinching, and for a moment, harry felt a pull in his chest—something slow, something sharp.

finally, he reached for her abandoned sucker, still sticky and shining faintly blue. he popped it into his mouth, smirking around it as he settled back onto the towel.

“god’s gift to songwriting,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

her laugh rang out, bright and unrestrained, and harry closed his eyes, letting the sound soak into him like sunlight.

YN’s laugh faded into a hum as she sat up, legs tucked beneath her, her knees brushing against harry’s thigh. her hand hovered over his notebook, tapping the edge lightly with her fingernail.

“what’s this one about?” she asked, her tone softer now, less teasing.

harry cracked one eye open, the sucker shifting lazily against his cheek. “why d’you always ask questions you know i won’t answer?”

“maybe because i know you’ll give me something, eventually.” she tilted her head, her fingers trailing along the notebook’s cover. “or maybe i just like annoying you.”

“you’re good at it.”

“thank you,” she said sweetly, ignoring his smirk. she flipped the notebook open, her eyes skimming over the half-finished lines written in that unmistakable cherry-red ink. “you’ve been stuck on this one for a while, huh?”

harry sat up, propping himself on one elbow and leaning close enough that her hair brushed his arm. “what makes you say that?”

“the way you’re chewing that sucker like it owes you money,” she teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “plus, there’s about three crossed-out lines on every page.”

he sighed, plucking the sucker from his mouth and tossing it into a paper cup near his feet. “some songs take longer than others.”

“and some songs,” she said, grinning as she tapped the glitter pen against the page, “are about a certain someone you refuse to talk about.”

harry laughed, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “you’re obsessed, you know that?”

“just curious.” she rested her chin in her hand, her pink sunglasses slipping down her nose again. “what’s the line you’re stuck on?”

he hesitated for a moment, then reached out to turn the page. “this one.” he pointed to a scribbled-out verse near the bottom, the ink thick and smudged where he’d pressed too hard.

YN’s eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, the scent of her sunscreen warm and sweet. “hmm. it’s… cryptic. you’re trying too hard.”

“oh, am i?” harry raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

she nodded, pulling the pen from his hand and spinning it between her fingers. “you need to stop thinking so much. write what you actually want to say, not what you think you’re supposed to.”

“and what do i want to say?”

she smiled, tilting her head at him. “how would i know? it’s your song.”

he held her gaze for a long moment, the teasing edge in her voice softening. his eyes flicked down to the pen in her hand, then back up to her face. “what if you’re the one i’m writing about?”

her breath hitched—just for a second, just barely enough for harry to notice. then she laughed, light and easy, her fingers tapping the notebook again. “then i guess i’m an even worse muse than i thought.”

“terrible,” harry agreed, his voice warm with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure he wanted her to catch.

YN didn’t move away, still perched close enough that her knee brushed against his. She let her fingers trail along the edges of the notebook again. She flipped a page, then another, her curiosity pulling her deeper into the sprawl of his unfinished songs and fragmented verses.

“you really don’t use normal pens anymore, do you?” she said, watching the way the glittery ink shimmered against the light.

“don’t need to,” he muttered without looking up. “not when you keep leaving these everywhere.”

“it’s a service, really,” she teased, flipping another page. “you’re welcome.”

her tone was light, but her fingers slowed as she scanned the next page. the handwriting was messier, more hurried, as if the words had come all at once and left no time for polish.

YN’s fingers hovered over the page, her eyes catching on the title underlined twice in red—watermelon sugar.

“what’s this one?” she asked, tilting the notebook toward herself as she scanned the uneven handwriting.

harry froze, “it’s nothing,” he said quickly, but the tension in his voice was hard to miss.

she arched an eyebrow, flipping the notebook to face her fully. “doesn’t look like nothing.” she read the first line aloud, her tone curious. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening.”

harry leaned over, his fingers brushing hers as he tried to tug the notebook away. “YN, seriously—”

“hold on,” she interrupted, pulling it back toward her chest, her grin widening as she flipped to the next line. “and it sounds just like a song,” she read, her voice lilting in amusement. “you’re getting poetic on me, harry.”

“it’s not finished,” he muttered, sitting back against the towel, his jaw tight as he ran a hand through his curls.

“yeah, i can see that,” she said, tapping the page with her fingernail. “but what’s it about? strawberries? watermelon? a fruit salad?”

harry let out a sharp laugh, but there was something uneasy in the way his eyes flicked to hers. “something like that.”

YN squinted at him, her smile softening as she studied the lyrics again. “it’s… sweet,” she murmured, her tone thoughtful now. “like—” she paused, glancing up at him. “like a crush. isn’t it?”

his mouth opened, then closed again. for a moment, he looked almost caught—like she’d stumbled onto something he hadn’t meant to share. finally, he shrugged, his fingers fidgeting with the cross between his swallows. “it’s about… a feeling,” he said carefully.

“what kind of feeling?” she pressed, tilting her head.

he hesitated, his gaze darting between the notebook and her face. “just… something good. something warm.”

YN rolled her eyes, her teasing smile back in place. “you’re being annoyingly vague. is it about someone? or are you just really passionate about fruit now?”

harry exhaled a laugh, but he didn’t answer right away. instead, his gaze lingered on her, quiet and unreadable, before he finally shrugged again. “do y’want me t’show you?”

her teasing smile faded, curiosity dancing across her features. “show me?” she echoed, her voice gentler now, uncertain.

he nodded, shifting closer. the notebook was forgotten as his fingers brushed along its spine, pushing it aside. his eyes swept over her face slowly, studying the way her cheeks were flushed from the sun, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to ask something but had forgotten how.

his hands rested near her hips, the towel wrinkling under his palms. he leaned in, close enough that his breath was cool against her lips. "it's not about fruit," he breathed, his voice barely more than a rasp.

she blinked, her pulse skittering in her chest as her eyes flicked between his. "i... kinda figured," she whispered, her tone shaky, but her gaze steady.

his lips twitched, a soft breath of laughter escaping through his nose. "do you trust me?"

her eyes dipped, lingering on the curve of his strawberry-red lips. the weight of the moment pressed against her, electric and unyielding. "just show me, harry."

he didn't hesitate after that. his hands settled on her hips, warm and firm, as he guided her flat onto the towel. the sun hung heavy in the sky, draping them in a creamsicle haze, but all she could focus on was him—his weight, his touch, the way his curls fell forward as he hovered over her.

his ring clad fingers drifted to her thighs, palms flat along the insides as he spread her apart. the tip of his nose grazed the gusset of her bikini bottoms over to the flesh of her thigh right against his thumb. he pressed soft kisses into the skin, nipping at it gently to watch her chest rise from a gasp.

his lips trailed like the sticky sweetness of honey dripping down her skin, closer to her center, each kiss slow and warm.

he paused, his nose brushing against her clit still covered by fabric, but he could still feel her heat radiating through it. “still with me?”

she nodded, her heartbeat everywhere but her chest. “please, harry.”

he smirked, his fingers hooking underneath the bottoms, his touch feather-light as he slid them down. the movement felt slow, intentional, every second stretching out as the anticipation buzzed through her like electricity.

her arousal glistened in the sunlight—a bright peach dripping with water in the georgia heat. he laid flat on his stomach, arms looping behind her knees and pulling her thighs apart. he breathed her in, lips grazing alongside her folds before he pressed soft kisses into her.

she was sunshine, she was rock and roll, she seeped nectar and smelt like champagne—he wanted to take his time.

he kissed right into her heat, his lips slick with the remnants of her, causing her tummy to flip. he drank her in, sliding his tongue up until he could make slow swirls around her clit. it sent a jolt through her, a sensation so vivid it left her gasping.

she clutched the towel beneath her, head tipping back as the sounds of summer—cicadas in the distance, trees shaking in warm breeze, the hum of the engine—faded into the background.

he took her bud between his lips greedily, suckling gently and flicking the tip of his tongue against her. his grip on her thighs tightened as he pushed himself father into her, drawing soft, breathy moans from her throat.

he tilted his head, cheek flat against the space between where her thigh and cunt met. he lapped at her pussy, slow and languid strokes as he gazed up at her through his eyelashes.

“like sugar.” he mumbled against her, the reverberation causing her fingers to tangle themselves in his curls, her hips bucking against his face.

he smiled, pulling her down flat against the towel, burying himself deeper into her. she would tug on his curls every time he moaned against her folds. she’d push up against his hands every time he’d shake his head between her thighs, coaxing whimpers to fall from her lips.

he pulled her thighs over his shoulders, his nose brushing against her clit as he buried his tongue into her hole, tasting every drop, drinking in the way she’d clench around his tongue.

her cheeks flushed, words caught in her throat as he found his rhythm, his large hands holding her steady. his tongue moved like he was writing lyrics, every motion a verse, every pause a chorus.

she felt herself unraveling, her body tensing as she drew her higher and higher, the knot in her core overwhelming and intoxicating. she was an unrelenting sea, pressure, thrashing and trembles until the wave finally broke—gasping his name, her thighs trembling against his shoulders as her back arched.

he didn’t stop, relishing in the way she slid across his tongue, easing her though the aftershocks. his hands trailed from her thighs to her waist as she sagged back down against the towel, her chest heaving, fingers still threaded through his hair.

he pulled back slowly, a string of her release and his saliva snapping from the departure. he kissed up her naval, lips glistening in the sunlight, his chin soaked.

he smiled, resting onto his forearms as he hovered over her. “showed you, just like y’wanted. right, needy girl?”

YN blinked, her breath still catching as her body buzzed with the lingering warmth of him. she hummed, nodding.

his dimples deepened as he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. “good,” he mumbled, pulling her lips apart as he leaned in. she could taste herself on him, sweet and heady, fruit and warmed by the sun.

he leaned his forehead against hers, their noses barely touching. “but if you need me to explain it again,” he hummed, kissing her once more. “i’ve got time, sunshine.”

[parfaitblogs]

present enough for me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you're decorating your apartment with your boyfriend, you're all too clumsy, and really, who makes glass baubles these days? 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. decorating a christmas tree. mentions of blood. joking about murder and prison (it makes sense i promise). puts up with your shit!spencer reid.  word count: >1k a/n: short n sweet little thingy to keep us going this holiday season ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

Everything had happened so fast. 

One minute, you were hanging a bauble on the tree, Spencer's ever so familiar voice reverberating around the room as he recites information you had to applaud him for knowing. 

Facts like, "Did you know Germans celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve? Because technically, Jesus was born on the night of the 24th. It's like this for a lot of European countries, actually." And, "Orthodox Christmas is on January 7, because Orthodox centric countries like Serbia, Belarus and Russia follow the Julian calendar, instead of the Gregorian one we do."

And, unfortunately, Spencer Reid's info-dumping is not annoying, but attractive to you. You oftentimes find yourself keenly listening in as he rattles off facts about things you'll probably never understand to the extent he does. Though, he does love over explaining just so you can comprehend some part of it. 

It had, evidently, led to you becoming a bit too distracted by your boyfriend halfway across the living room, adorning the television with tinsel, and resulted in your hand slipping as it slid a bauble onto the faux snow tree branch. It had fallen, and shattered, shards of it exploding across the wooden floor. 

You curse aloud, taking an instinctual step back, eyebrows furrowing. 

"Are you okay, angel?" Spencer calls, and you cringe at the sight of the pieces of bauble on the floor, though nod your head regardless.

"Yeah. You should see the other guy," you mumble, crouching down to the floor to pick up shards of the bauble. 

"No, don't touch—" he's cut off by your hiss as the sharp edge of the bauble slices your skin, your other hand that was already nursing some pieces, closing into a fist around them.

"Fuck," you seethe again, all the shards dropping to the floor at your — arguably stupid — mistake.

"The first health and safety rule when you drop glass is don't pick it up with your hands," Spencer scolds, his slippers padding against the floor as he heads over to you. His hand wraps around your forearm and he picks you up, shaking his head. 

"Okay, well, what idiot makes glass baubles?" you retort. 

"What clumsy idiot buys them?" he shoots back, and you huff because, well, he's got you there. 

"You're supposed to be supportive and nurturing," you mumble, though you're sure if Spencer overbearingly attempted to console your injured hand immediately, you'd question if he's sick.

"I can multitask," he answers, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Up."

You jump off the ground as he picks you up, carrying your body over to the kitchen stool, where he sets you down, away from the crime scene that is a shattered, bloodied bauble.

"It looks like that bauble tried to murder me," you say, staring at the scene. 

"I'll put some caution tape around the tree until it goes to trial."

"I vote two consecutive life sentences."

"Two? What's the second one for?"

"Conning me," you grumble.

He laughs as he disappears into the guest bathroom, just to reappear with the bright red First Aid kit, placing it on the kitchen counter next to you.

"Hand, please," he says, standing in front of you, and you hold out your palm. "Oh yeah, this is pretty bad, huh?"

"I can handle it," you huff, puffing your chest up. "A soldier never shows fear."

"My brave girl," he says, using baby wipes to clean up the blood, gently. "Did it get you anywhere else?"

You shake your head, wincing at the pressure — however slight — over the cuts on your skin. "Just my hands."

He nods his head, and once the blood is cleaned, he's soothing them with some antiseptic cream, trying to keep his touch as featherlike as possible. 

"I liked that bauble too," you mumble as he begins wrapping a bandage around your hand. 

"It's the same as the thirteen other one's of its design in the pack."

"No. It was special," you reply, shooting a glare at Spencer, who surrenders almost immediately. 

"Okay," he slowly nods his head, only really indulging in your antics to humour you. And maybe himself. 

Once your hand was wrapped up, and Spencer had given you a kiss for your undeniable bravery, you were bounding back over to the tree to finish adorning it with trinkets and other decor. 

"Please be careful," he warns, though abandons his post on the other side of the living room to help you with the three. 

Just in case. 

"I'm super careful."

He shoots you a look, that you match with a shit-eating grin, and then you're delving back into decorating the tree. 

By the time you're done, you are not any more injured, and the tree is lit up with an assortment of colours and glitter, and you're smiling, leaning against the television cabinet to admire it. 

The television cabinet dressed with a collection of candles, candle holders, tinsel, and a festive table runner you forgot you even owned. 

A table runner your hand was resting on.

And Spencer was too late in warning you, and your hand swings forwards, before you trip and land flat on your ass.

He doesn't help you up this time.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[adrienneleclerc]

That’s That Me Espresso

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles and Y/N have been dating for a few weeks, they met after the Suzuka Grand Prix. Even though their relationship has been short lived, there’s something about her that has Charles down bad. They are living proof of how the boyfriend should always like the girlfriend more.

Warning: Grammatical and spelling errors

A/N: For those who voted for idea 2, about Charles being auctioned off for charity? Yeah, I'm not vibing with that idea anymore. But i am working on the fanfic where Charles thinks Y/N likes Lando.

Charles was never one to chase girls. Sure, in every relationship he was in, he was the best boyfriend he could be, he would be so devoted to them. But in his current relationship, he has never felt this way before. He was away for the Imola Grand prix and he couldn't sleep so he decided to call Y/N. After a few rings, she answered.

"Bueno?" Y/N asked sleepily.

"Hello, mon ange, did I wake you?" Charles asked.

"Sort of, is something wrong, Charlie?" Y/N asked.

"Oh nothing, I'm just having trouble sleeping without you here, you know?" Charles said.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to this Grand Prix, cariño, i just have a lot of in-person meetings. Plus, you've been to countless races before, you would think you'd be used to sleeping alone." Y/N said.

"Yes, but that was before i met you. Now when i'm in bed alone, it feels like I'm missing something.” Charles confessed.

“You’re so sweet. But seriously, muñeco, you have media day in the morning, and I can’t have you be sleepy during the interviews, Fred would kill you.” Y/N said.

“No he wouldn’t, I’m il predestinato, the prince of Ferrari.” Charles said.

“Muñeco.” Y/N warned.

“Alright Mon ange, I’ll go to sleep, but please FaceTime me before you go to work.” Charles said.

“Of course, Charlie. Te quiero mucho, Goodnight.” Y/N said.

“Yo también te quiero, Goodnight.” Charles tried his best to say in Spanish and he hung up.

The next morning, Y/N woke up, showered, did her after shower routine, got dressed and she was about to make breakfast when Charles decided to FaceTime her. She answered.

“Muñeco, how are you? Did you get some sleep?” Y/N asked.

“I did actually, it took a while though.” Charles said.

“Well when you’re back in Monaco, I’ll be sleeping by your side.” Y/N said, she set her phone against something in the kitchen so she can make pancakes.

“Sounds perfect, I’ll be counting down the days.” Charles said.

“You think you’ll make podium?” Y/N asked.

“I’ll dedicate my podium to you, Mon ange.” Charles said. They kept talking while Y/N made her breakfast, Charles also took his phone with him to eat when his room service came so they had breakfast together,

“Charlie, baby, i need to go to work, okay, I’ll talk to you soon, te quiero.” Y/N said.

“Yo más.” Charles replied and hung up the call. There was a knock on his hotel room door and he opened it to see Carlos. “Good morning, Carlos.”

“Morning. Were you talking with Y/N?” Carlos asked

“Yes i was.” Charles replied smiling.

“Ay, I should have known, she has you completely smitten.” Carlos says.

“I know, mate, there’s just something about her.” Charles said, sighing like a person in love.

“You are whipped, it’s entertaining to see you like that. We need to head to paddock now for the interviews.” Carlos said before him and Charles left the hotel room.

Meanwhile, Y/N was finishing up her third meeting of the day when she got w FaceTime call from Y/N so she excused herself.

“Charlie querido, what is it? I’m technically still in a meeting.” Y/N said.

“Sorry Mon ange, I just wanted to see how you are, I am on break right now and then I have more interviews before the race,” Charles said.

“I’m fine, just a little tired, I call you later tonight okay? Then you can tell me all about your day. Te quiero.” Y/N said, blowing him a kiss.

“Yo más” Charles said, doing the same thing before hanging up. Y/N was about to enter the conference room again but she was stopped by her assistant.

“You got that man wrapped around your finger.” Monica commented,

“Well i wouldn’t necessarily say that I have him wrapped around my finger. Pero es si, lo tengo mal (But Yeah, i got him down bad).” Y/N said.

“How? Like what’s your secret?” Monica asked.

“There’s no secret, it’s just that me espresso.” Y/N said.

“Ha ha, no go, you have a meeting to run.” Monica said. Y/N entered the conference room to continue the meeting.

Her workday was done and she got a text from Charles and it was a link to one of his interviews. She clicked on it and she was watching it but there was a question that Charles answered that surprised her.

“Charles Leclerc, what is your favorite saying?” The interviewer asked.

“I Don’t know if it’s a popular saying or an actual saying in general, but my girlfriend says ‘that’s that me espresso’. When she was younger, her mom would say she was like a shot so espresso because of how hyper and energetic she was as a child, basically bouncing off the walls. So now when I ask her a question about anything she does, she’ll say that’s that me espresso or it’s just that me espresso, meaning that’s just how she is. How do I get crying babies to stop? That’s that me espresso, I have no idea but I guess I just have a calming presence.” Charles said laughing. Y/N stopped the video and FaceTimed Charles,

“Hey Muñeco.” Y/N said.

“Hello, ma Belle, did you see that interview?” Charles asked.

“I did, you used my phrase.” Y/N said.

“Of course I did, it’s my favorite saying in the world, it perfectly describes you. You are a shot of espresso, a moment with you has me smiling for hours, I can’t get enough of you.” Charles said,

“Eres tan cursi (you are so cheesy) but i love that about you.” Y/N said.

They continued talking until it was time for bed.

Race Weekend was done and Y/N can continue working from her home office, she didn’t didn’t have any meetings to attend to in person, she was free. She was finishing up some files when the doorbell rang. Y/N got up and answered the door and she saw a huge bouquet of her favorite flowers (mine are peonies because of Blair Waldorf).

“Whats this?” Y/N asked and the bouquet of flowers were lowered to reveal a smiling Charles Leclerc. “Muñeco!”

“Mon ange!” Charles exclaimed, they entered her apartment and they hugged as soon as charles put the bouquet on the kitchen counter, he spun her around and out her back on the ground to leave her kisses all over her face. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow, did you come here straight from the airport?” Y/N asked, taking in Charles’s hoodie and baggy jeans,

“Yes I did. I stopped by the florist first, obviously.” Charles said, gesturing to the bouquet,

“They’re beautiful.” Y/N said. “What brings you here?”

“Because I wanted to tell you up something important. I know we haven’t been dating for a long time but I have never felt this strongly about someone, I love you, te amo, estoy enamorado de ti (i am in love with you).” Charles said. Y/N starts tearing up,

“Ay muñeco, yo también te amo.” Y/N said, hugging him. “Je suis amoureux de toi.” Now it was Charles’s turn to tear up, she just told him she was in love with him too. They kissed.

“I fall in love with you more and more each day, I can’t get enough of you, how do you do that?” Charles asked, brushing Y/N’s hair back. Y/N just shrugged.

“That’s that me espresso.” Y/N said and both of them laughed, Charles pulled Y/N onto the couch and started talking about where to go out today,

The End

I had no idea where I was going with this short imagine but I hope y’all like it!

[football-and-fanfics]

Restless - Jude Bellingham

Who: Jude Bellingham Prompt: Restless sleeping Requested by: as voted for by you! Warnings: slight mentions of nightmare

A/N: this is my first time writing for Jude, so hope you'll like it ;-)

You rarely woke up in the middle of the night, and on the very few occasions that you did, there always was something going on. So when you suddenly found yourself wide awake at 2.30 am, you immediately looked around for anything out of the ordinary.

It was a quiet autumn night. Nothing outside or in the house made a sound which would explain you waking up. You were just about to write it off as an anomaly, when suddenly Jude made a sound beside you.

"Don't..." A soft groan rolled off his lips. He lay on his back, fitfully rolling his head and shortly trampling his legs under the blankets.

You instantly knew that his restless sleeping was what had woken you up. Given the state of the blankets wrapped around him, and in some places not covering him at all anymore, he must have been uneasy for a while already.

Another whimpered groan rose up from him, as his fist clenched around the sheets. "Babe." You gently placed a flat hand on his bare chest, very carefully giving him a soft shake to wake him up. Jude immediately startled awake with a sharp intake of breath. He looked around a little confused, before his eyes locked on your face.

"What's wrong?" Jude propped himself up on his elbows, an urgent undertone to his voice. "Are you okay?" "Don't worry, I'm fine." You softly caressed his chest to ease him. "You were restless, tossing and turning."

He frowned at the faint memory of his own unpleasant dreams of just now. "Just..." Jude slowly shook his head. "Dreams..." "Not the kind of dreams you'd want to have from the looks of it," you spoke softly. Jude slowly lay back down, staring up at the dark ceiling. "Not really, no."

"Close your eyes." You reached for his hand and lovingly took it in yours. "Let's get some happier thoughts into that head of yours." "What are you doing?" Jude sounded unsure, but still did what you asked. "You'll see." You smiled softly. "I want to try something."

You slowly ran your fingertips over his hand and forearm, just lightly enough for him to feel. "Just focus on me. Feel my touch on your skin." The tension in Jude's body almost immediately disappeared as all his attention switched to you and no longer on the remnants of his dreams.

"Savour this feeling." Your voice was only a soft whisper now. "Replace those dark thoughts for something beautiful. Maybe that hattrick you scored last week." "Or the first time we met," Jude smirked, not opening his eyes. "Or that," you chuckled softly, "just let that happy memory swirl around your mind." "Gladly." Jude took a deep breath, lying on his back with his eyes closed and only focusing on the memory of your first date.

For several minutes you lay with Jude like that, caressing his skin and speaking softly to him. Finally, you noticed the slowing of his breaths and how the tension of his muscles fully left. You waited a few more minutes, but you could only reach one conclusion: Jude had fallen back to sleep. A peaceful sleep this time.

You pulled the blankets up a little higher over the both of you, before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Sweet dreams, babe."

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @ella33, @hbstre

Writing masterlist | Add me to the tags list

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

"Hey, Ed?"

"Mm?" Ed yawned massively, squeaking a bit on the exhale, snuggling a bit closer to Stede. They'd finally managed to negotiate the new bedframe inside the narrow doorway of their new place, and they'd just had a lovely time breaking in their new bed (they'd spend half the bedroom budget on the nice sheets alone), but Stede's voice had sounded a bit too contemplative for what had really been a very nice day, all-around.

All the days they'd spent together after deciding to be innkeepers had been nice days.

"It's just..." Stede sighed, making a little curl of hair flopped over his forehead jiggle. "It's stupid."

"Hey." Ed nudged Stede's arm, resting his chin cutely on his chest. "I still wanna hear about it. Pleeeeeease?"

"Alright," Stede huffed, reaching down to scritch his fingers through Ed's beard, and Ed practically purred. "I was just remembering what you said, the morning after Calypso's birthday -"

"I told you, babe," Ed started, "I was just panicking, I didn't really regret -"

"Not that," Stede interrupted gently, patting Ed's cheek. "When you thanked me for saving your life. Because you had that vision of me as a mermaid the night you died."

"Oh," Ed said slowly, frowning as he tried to work out where Stede was going with this. "And?"

"It's just..." Stede worried at his bottom lip. "When the crew voted to banish you, that morning..."

Ed felt his face harden.

"Did you..." Stede's exhale was a little wobbly. "When you said I was no fuckin' mermaid...did you think that..."

"You were abandoning me again?" Ed filled in, as gently as he could, and he shrugged one shoulder. "I mean...a bit."

"Love, please, we promised not to lie to each other -"

"What, man, do you want me to say yeah, I figured you'd made me want to live, again, only to immediately kick me out of your life, again?" Ed forced an even breath out, tilting his head, still resting on Stede's chest, to watch his own hand as he played with a bit of Stede's chest hair. "It's okay. We're past it. I don't blame you for not wanting anything to do with me, after what I did -"

"Edward," Stede interrupted firmly, gently turning Ed's face back to look at him with a finger. "I was always going to follow you."

Ed frowned. "Really?"

"Really," Stede promised. "And as for what you did? Love, you were in such an awful place, I mean, I think there's a reason everyone forgave you pretty easily, don't you?"

Ed hesitated. "But you made me leave -"

"And I'm sorry for that," Stede said, resting a hand over Ed's, squeezing his fingers gently. "Wasn't my choice. But I was always, always going to follow you."

Skeptically, Ed huffed. "What if the crew hadn't wanted to let me back?"

"I think they always would have," Stede said evenly, "but if they hadn't, I would've stayed with you. Do you believe me?"

Ed could remember the pain of that morning so well. Finally wanting to live, for the first time in what felt like forever, and then questioning if it was even worth it when it felt like his fears that everyone wanted him dead were just confirmed.

Maybe he could remember it just a little more gently, now.

"Yeah," he said, closing his eyes, smiling at the memory of shimmering goldfish scales. "I believe you."

[ikeuverse]

party in the u.s.a | sjy

pairing: jake x fem!reader  genres: fluff, humor wc: 2.5k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : just a few curses and (a lot of) kissing.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you've never missed watching your best friend play, but unfortunately a match falls right on the day of a super-important exam. jake is distraught because it's right when his team loses, making him listen to the one song that everyone knows he listens to when he's sad… it's up to you to sort it out somehow.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : the vote for the next story had our dear jake as the winner, so here it is! i wrote this one a while ago at the time of the live he said he listens to this song when he's sad, so i thought about it and just came up with this. i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist ꒱

"Are you really not going to watch my game today?" Jake's melancholy voice almost made your heart break even more.

It was more than obvious that you wanted to go, not least because you had never missed a single one of his games for the university team. But that same university was tearing your sanity apart by holding an exam in the middle of the afternoon, where more than half the students would be watching the soccer team play.

Jake was the top scorer. Famous for his relentless passing, his perfect goals – not to mention his breathtaking looks. You, as his best friend, couldn't deny the slight crush you felt. It was ridiculous to say that kind of thing when you knew that half the campus fell in love with him.

But on that particular day, it wasn't as if you weren't going because you wanted to. Your teacher would kill you – and your whole class – if you missed that test. It was important. So was Jake's game. Ever since you became friends at the beginning of high school and he joined every sport possible, you went to watch him play. It was a tradition for both of you, even if it was raining. That's why you accumulated raincoats of all colors in your closet and even one or two different umbrellas; one of them even too big for your liking to hold your friends when they went with you.

You did everything for Jake and he recognized that, so much so that he felt selfish when he sulked all day just because you weren't going today. He wouldn't meet your eyes once you got on the pitch.

He couldn't hear you shouting his name after a goal or even running up to the stands and hugging your friends. A mere excuse he had since you were always with all of them, so Jake could hug you too.

A long sigh left your lips as you left the university hall. The pencil and pen pressed against your fingers as you walked through the corridors with the thought that you had done well. The content was extensive, and the whole thing was giving you a headache, but studying every night had been worth it after all. Because even when you felt tired, even when you'd exhausted yourself studying at night, Jake would show up to keep you company.

Shit, Jake. You quickly checked your cell phone for a message from him, because by that time the game was surely over.

To your surprise, he hadn't sent anything, but your cell phone had hundreds of messages from Jungwon and Heeseung. Your heart sank at this.

Dialing the number of one of the boys, you were grateful when Jungwon answered on the second ring.

"Y/n?" he didn't even wait for you to say anything, just seeing your name flashing on the screen of his cell phone.

"Jungwon, hey. Is everything okay?" you knew it wasn't. And Jungwon knew that you were smart enough to know that since he had called your cell phone at least six times. Heeseung called four more.

"Well, no..." there was a slight pause on the other end of the line, his footsteps instinctively tightening as he walked across campus "Can you come to our apartment?"

He didn't even have to ask you once more to get you to agree and say you'd be there as soon as possible. It was a relief that the boys' apartment wasn't so far from the college, even if running hadn't been a good idea, but the desperation of Jungwon's call made your heart squeeze and think of a thousand different scenarios.

Had Jake been hurt during the game? What had happened to make things go wrong like that? The thought of Jake being hurt made your whole body ache, and he blamed himself for not being there and for not providing enough assistance.

It was the only game you hadn't been to in all these years of friendship, so this feeling was rather new. Add to that the fact that you'd had a crush on him for a while, wanting to see him play or do something alongside him, but that was something that wouldn't even come out of your mouth.

Standing in front of the apartment complex, it didn't take long for you to enter and go straight to the elevator that gave access to the boys' floor. But especially today, the journey seemed much longer and more time-consuming, and you'd been doing it for so long that you couldn't even count, but it was torturing you so much.

"Y/n" Jungwon called out as soon as the door opened, without letting you realize that you had already reached their floor, stopped at the door and even rang the bell.

"Hi" you hugged him briefly, entering the apartment and being greeted by Heeseung with a quick hug as well "So?"

"Look…" Jungwon sighed as he closed the door. The three of you walked to the center of the room as he took the initiative in the conversation "You know, we lost the game today…"

He didn't want you to feel guilty at all. Jungwon understood about your commitments, even Sunghoon was with you – because he was from your class – taking that damn exam. You both lost today's game.

"What? Wait… Did you really lose?" your eyes widened.

"It was just a friendly, anyway" Heeseung flopped down on the sofa, picking up a cushion to rest his head on "The problem is that Jake is devastated."

Yes, he hated losing a game. You knew that.

"But I don't think it has anything to do with our defeat today" Jungwon nibbled the inside of his cheek, staring directly at you. Your eyes wandered between him and Heeseung, a frown on the face of the older man sitting on the sofa.

"He's been listening to Party in the U.S.A since we arrived, y/n. You need to do something because I can't take it anymore," he exploded.

You laughed softly, seeing Jungwon give you a disapproving look straight away. Perhaps they had rehearsed a better way to tell you something, but Heeseung's impatience made him practically beg for your help.

"And how am I going to do that? Maybe going there will be worse because I didn't go to see today's game…"

"On the contrary" Jungwon quickly interrupted, "You're the only person who can make him turn that thing off."

"Why?"

A moment of silence and Heeseung dropped the cushion, getting up from the sofa.

"It's so obvious, y/n" he rolled his eyes, but there was a playful smile on his lips as he took hold of your shoulders and led you down the corridor of the apartment. The corridor gave access to the three bedrooms as well as the bathroom.

Jake's room was the last in the corridor and, as soon as you and Heeseung got close to the door, you understood why the other two boys were so frustrated. The music was extremely loud even with the door closed – and possibly locked – while you could hear nothing but Miley Cyrus' voice.

You turned to Heeseung, noticing now that Jungwon was also behind him. Both of them looked at you with such anticipation as you stared back at them.

"How am I supposed to compete with that? When he hears that song…" you whimpered, Jungwon taking the lead to hold you by the shoulders this time.

"We trust you and the power you have over that crybaby" he winked at her, laughing and making her laugh too "Now make him turn it off or I'm breaking that little speaker today."

Both you and Heeseung knew that would never happen. It would be easier for the older one to break the speaker or for you to hide it in your apartment than for little Jungwon to do anything that would make Jake sad or even angrier.

So, turning towards his bedroom door again, you dared to give it a few knocks.

No answer.

A few more knocks and Jungwon's hands came off your shoulders. You heard footsteps moving away, looking back while the two boys were still there. As if to encourage you.

When you knocked once more, the music seemed to get even louder. As if Jake didn't want to be interrupted from his moment. You snorted at this and turned the handle on an impulse, praying that it was open or you'd punch that door until it opened.

And to your surprise it was. Jake didn't usually lock his door because he knew his friends wouldn't come into his room unless he gave permission when he was in those melancholy moments. He hadn't realized that you had opened the door until the bang of closing it made him jump out of bed.

Looking at you with an astonished face, Jake got up from the bed and practically ran towards you. His eyes were glued to yours, bright and fixed on your eyes. He didn't look like he'd cried, but he was about to if you hadn't shown up for a few more minutes.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" he asked, you were only able to understand because of the proximity. Your shoulders shrugged and your hands went straight to your ears, indicating that you couldn't hear properly because the music was still too loud "Fuck, I'm sorry" Jake ran over to the speaker to turn it down to a considerable volume. He didn't want to stop listening to you because he still felt bad, but he would leave the music in a more comfortable setting so that he could hear your voice more clearly.

"What did you ask me?" you said after he came closer, big eyes staring at you and lips parted.

He didn't need to know that you had heard him perfectly, you just needed an excuse for him to say something and then think about how to continue the conversation.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again.

Jake seemed restless in his seat, his hands hovering at his sides and sometimes going to the hem of the sweatshirt he was wearing to play with something between his fingers.

"The boys couldn't stand the music" you smiled, but he didn't reciprocate because he had looked away from you "And I wanted to know how you were after the game."

"We lost" he said dryly, staring at you for a brief moment "Happy now?"

Jake walked away from you, his hands running through his hair as he let out a long sigh. He had his eyes closed, but you couldn't see because he preferred to keep his back to you.

"Why would I be happy about this, Jake?" you didn't want to feel upset by his tone, knowing that it was a big part of the frustration he felt. Jake sighed again, turning towards you.

"Because in all these years of friendship, you've never lost a game I've played" he was angry, you could see the way his brow furrowed as he spoke. His forehead wrinkled and his lips reddened because he had brushed his teeth a few times before speaking.

"I had a test today, it's not like I'm going to lose your game because I just wanted to," you said in the same tone, trying to get it into his head once and for all.

Jake knew he was being selfish, he knew it, and he would never interfere with your future either, because university was important to both of you. But the frustration over his newly discovered feelings for you, Heeseung, and Jungwon's teasing and the loss of today's game only intensified and he knew he would explode at some point.

Listening to Party In the U.S.A would be the only thing that would de-stress him from that whole incredibly shitty day.

"Anyway, Heeseung said it was friendly, it wasn't even a big deal" you shrugged and didn't know why you'd said it. But you knew it hadn't been a good idea when Jake got angry again. His eyes darkened and he was about to scream from the looks of it.

"So my game was no good, y/n? Is that what you mean?" he asked, you opened your mouth to say something, but Jake was quicker "You know what? Fuck, it really wasn't a big deal whether you went or not" he turned the music back up to the same volume as before, if not even louder.

The looping of Miley's voice had never entered your mind so much at that moment and you knew you wouldn't be hearing that song for weeks to come.

Talking to Jake hadn't gone as well as you'd hoped because not only was he upset, but you were upset too. It wasn't possible that your best friend was acting like this just because you hadn't gone to the game.

But then Heeseung's words echoed in your mind. It's so obvious. You didn't like to play the fool for that kind of thing, especially when it seemed to be completely reciprocated. Losing Jake's feelings for you wasn't in your plans, even more so after you came to accept that you felt it too, even if he didn't know it.

So your body acted better than your mind and, before you knew it, your hands were resting on the back of his swivel chair. With a little effort to make it spin along with Jake's body, you managed to catch his startled gaze as he started to face you.

"Y/n, you—"

"No time for bullshit, you little shit" you cursed angrily, but your actions said completely the opposite when your fingers gently held Jake's face just to keep him in place.

You pressed your lips to his and a long sigh came out of Jake's mouth at the sudden contact. He remained static for a few seconds, processing whether this was really happening or whether he was imagining it too much. But no, he wasn't dreaming and he realized it when the tip of your tongue pressed against his lips to ask for passage.

Jake gave in willingly, he wasn't going to turn down something he dreamed about practically every night even though he thought it was wrong to fantasize about his best friend.

In one swift movement, his hands grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap. The kiss took on even more rhythm and desire as the two of you attacked each other's lips. Your hands tangled in Jake's hair and pulled slowly as he pressed you against his body.

Gasping breaths, foreheads pressed together and the tip of his nose lightly brushing against yours.

"Jake" you called after a period of silence, him murmuring softly as he caressed your waist over the T-shirt you were wearing.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Don't listen to that song anymore, please?" he laughed at your question, opening his eyes to find yours still closed.

You were so beautiful, but you looked even more stunning with your lips red and moist with his saliva mixed with yours from the kiss you shared with him, sitting on his lap. Jake couldn't help letting out a sigh, closing his eyes, and brushing his lips against yours again.

"Only if you kiss me more often like you did today," he whispered, causing a shiver to run through his entire body "I bet that'll calm me down more than any song I could ever listen to."

© ikeuverse, 2023. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[rorywritesjunk]

If my velocity starts to make you sweat Then just don't let go

Buggy asks to try something new and you're onboard with it.

Rating: NC-17, MDNI! Warning: Pegging, praise, dirty talk, aftercare, strap, Buggy gets a little unsure. No misuse of Devil Fruit powers! Use of baby, sweet heart, and good boy for Buggy. He wonders where you learned such vulgarity. Word Count: 1,898 A/N: Okay I was writing this just to get words out and then it turned into this and I decided hey, I meant to write something back in like, March or April for 400 followers and I put it to a vote which was author's choice and smut with Buggy, so it's pegging Buggy. And it can be read as either OPLA or anime. I also read a lot of smutty snippets lately so... yea.

Title comes from "Planetary (Go!)" by My Chemical Romance.

Buggy wanted to try something new with you but honestly, he wasn't sure how to ask because what if you thought something was wrong with him? What if you laughed at him and made him feel bad because of it? Maybe you'd leave him because of it.

If asked, Buggy's side of the story is that he casually asked you, just brought it up to see how you felt about it while you two held hands and looked at each other with romance in your eyes, but your side of the story was him slamming his hands down on the table in the middle of dinner, thankfully just the two of you were there, while he nervously blurted out, "Willyoufuckme?"

And you, too confused by what he said, squinted at him for a moment, trying to replay the sentence in your head, before you were able to break apart the mushed sentence of four words.

"Oh!" Your face heated up just a bit while Buggy looked like he would rather the floor open up and swallow him whole instead of hear your answer.

"I was just-"

"We can try that, Buggy."

"I mean- wait, really?!" His voice changed key asking that. He wasn't expecting you to agree to it but there you were, smiling coyly at him across the table. "I mean, of course, why not? I suggested something new to try, of course, and I always have good ideas!"

You sat back in your seat, grinning at him. "When do you want this to happen?"

"Oh, you know, whenever." He shrugged, though internally he wanted it as soon as possible. He wanted you to get him on all fours in the bedroom, fucking the life out of him, scraping his knees on the floor while he begged for more. "Uh, we can schedule it-"

"After dinner?"

He didn't expect it so soon but he was nodding along in agreement to this.

~

Naked, kissing, the clothes discarded beside the bed as Buggy was on his back while you tended to him, fingers running through his hair as you two pressed your bodies together. Your hand moved between his legs, touching him, telling him to relax and that he was being so good for you. He was nervous but he knew you'd take care of him.

The harness you wore with the blue cock attached to it made him curious of when you even bought that thing. He asked when you were putting it on, loosening the fit to feel comfortable on your body.

"Oh, I picked it up a few weeks ago." You giggled. "Um, it was a set. Sometimes I use the dildo when you're busy and I get lonely."

Buggy frowned at that. Why did you have it when you could just ask him? Did you think he wasn't good enough? Did his feel weird or-

"Buggy, I've only used it twice." You told him. "Now, relax."

Now he was on his back as you pulled away from kissing him, eyes scanning his body as you started to grin. He swallowed nervously, wondering what you were thinking about, as your hand brushed over his stomach before reaching for the bottle of lube beside him.

"I think I want you riding me, Buggy." You said casually as you unscrewed the cap. "Hm? How does that sound? You can fuck yourself on my cock while I watch you. You'll look so pretty."

That sounded amazing to him.

You took your time prepping him, praising him, letting him know how good he was for you while taking just your fingers. It felt weird to him at first but he relaxed. While one hand worked to get him ready your other hand was touching his body, fingertips grazing his skin, brushing over his stomach, chest, back down to his cock you were purposefully neglecting at first. He let out a pitiful whine when you did that, hips bucking up towards you before you pushed them back gently.

"Easy, Buggy." You murmured as you pressed a second finger in with more lube, watching his face for any sign that you needed to stop. After a few pumps, you added a third, admiring how he looked on his back, hair spread out along the blankets while his legs were spread for you, panting softly as you gave his cock a few strokes.

"Please-" He whimpered. "Need you."

"I know." You murmured as you pulled your hand back from him. "Do you want to be on top?"

Buggy shook his head. He wasn't sure he would be able to. You nodded as you added a generous amount of lube to your cock, keeping an eye on him as you positioned yourself between his legs. His face was flushed, a little sweaty, and he was watching you through half closed eyes as you pressed the tip to him.

You were slow, noticing the resistance at first, but you spoke to him still, praising him, watching him as you pressed your hips forward, allowing yourself to sink into him slowly. Buggy didn't know what to make of this new sensation other than there was a fullness he'd never felt before. He wanted to ask you something he suddenly felt your body close to his and you were grinning down at him in triumph, your thighs touching him now.

"Look at how well you took my cock, baby." You murmured lovingly to him as you reached up to brush his hair out of his face. "Does it feel good?"

He didn't know what to make of the words coming out of your mouth. Was this something you had also been wanting? Have him on his back with his legs spread wide for you like he had done to you so many times before? You pulled your hips back just a bit before pushing forward again. He let out a grunt and shut his eyes at the sensation, thinking maybe he could get used to this.

"I'm going to have you screaming for me, Buggy." You murmured, repeating the motions, making sure he was comfortable as you moved. He could only nod, words escaping him, as his body moved with yours. "I want you cumming on my cock like the good boy you are. You're always good for me."

"Oh fuck." He whimpered at your words. You were still grinning at him, a feral expression as you gradually picked up the pace of thrusts, how far you pulled out before pushing back into him. Your eyes looked down, yourself letting out a moan at the sight of his body taking your cock so well.

"You're so beautiful." You told him, your attention on your cock now as you started to fuck him. "You won't be able to walk for a while after I'm done with you, Buggy."

Where did you learn to talk like that? He never spoke to you in such a filthy, controlling way. You managed to push his knees towards his chest, his moans and whimpers like music to your ears, and when your cock brushed over that sweet spot inside him, he was crying out for more.

"You're so good for me, baby, look how you're taking it." You moaned for him as he looked up at you with wide, watery eyes. The sensation was almost too much for him. "You feel so good on my cock, squeezing me like that."

His brain was to jumbled to even think of a response, all he could do was moan and whine, the blue cock brushing against that sweet spot with every thrust. You were hunched over him, trying to keep his knees to his chest, the height and size difference making it a little difficult. You reached for him, caressing his cheek, your thumb brushing against his bottom lip. He looked at you with hazy eyes, letting out the occasional whimper.

"You're so beautiful, Buggy, look at you." You sighed, smiling down at him as you angled your thrusts, abusing that sweet spot now with each thrust, hearing his cries and pleas for more. "Does my cock feel good for you, sweetheart? Should I cum in you, fill you up, let everyone know you're mine?"

He nodded, he liked the sound of that, his brain was fuzzy from the pleasure, he wondered if he was going to cum without you even touching his cock. At this point Buggy didn't care what you'd say to him, he just wanted you to keep fucking him.

Your hand brushed over his cock teasingly, grinning at his pathetic whimper at the neglect. You didn't want to be too mean to him, you did care for him after all, and he was being so good for you so you took pity, taking hold of him and starting to stroke him as you thrusted your hips. He wouldn't last long, he was starting to pant just a bit, his hips jerking as he tried to fuck your hand.

"Such a good boy for me." You praised, feeling his cock twitch in your hand. "I'll keep fucking you until you're a screaming mess, baby, until you can't walk. You'll be feelin' this for days." You kept stroking him, grinning at him, squeezing his cock carefully. "Cum for me, baby, let me know how good you feel."

How could he disobey you after you'd been so good for him? It only took a few more strokes on his cock, your own hitting that spot inside him that had him suddenly seeing stars as he came, letting out a strangled and surprised cry of pleasure as he made a mess on himself.

You waited a moment as he came down before pulling out. He hated that feeling of being done, what if you decided once was enough and you didn't want to do it again? What if you were disgusted by his request and left him? His post-orgasm haze had him feeling weird and he looked up at you with uncertainty.

"Oh, you did so good, Buggy." You told him as you removed the harness and tossed it aside on the bed. "So good for me." You helped him lower his legs, stretching them out on the bed before laying beside him and pulling him into his arms. "You took my cock so well, I'm so happy, baby." You peppered kisses over his face, murmuring the praise over and over again. "I need to get you cleaned up when you're ready, okay, and you're unavailable for the crew for the rest of the night so you can rest."

It was a little worrisome how little he was talking to you, but you figured his brain was still foggy. This was new for him and you, it was something he needed a moment to process. You kissed his temple as he turned in your arms to wrap his arms around you, wanting the closeness, as he tucked his face against your neck.

"Canwedothatagain?"

Much like at dinner, it took you a moment to take in what he said. You chuckled softly and hugged him close, kissing his forehead before trying to wrestle the blankets out from under you to wrap around him.

"We can do that, yea." You assured him. "Only if you're a good boy for me, of course."

Oh, Buggy could be a good boy for you. He'd make sure of it.

[queer-n-here]

Y'all thank you for your responses! So here is: Large and in charge reader, who's only nice to their on true love: OSAMU DAZAI!

(And yes, as you can see, I voted on my own poll. And yes, I voted for Tanizaki. I'm a simp for him broooooo)

Also, bruv, I dunno why but I got so carried away and this got really angsty. Like... I never do angst. NEVER. Yet here we are. I wonder if I'm okay. Well whatever.

Contents: Dazai getting drunk with reader.

Warnings: No smut, kinda angst, I totally digressed from the original plot line I had planned, and now I want nothing more than to give Osamu Dazai a big fat hug.

Dazai had found himself a new hobby: watching people's reactions as you talked to him.

I mean, most would think, really, how interesting can THAT be? But being the sort of person you were, all mean and menacing at one look but really soft and gentle on the inside, it was rare for you to really hold a conversation without coming off as intimidating. So when people saw you smiling softly at Dazai's jokes, and watching him fondly as he chatted away, they were generally more than surprised.

Dazai remembered distinctly the day you'd met. Fukuzawa had found you fighting solo against three of the Port Mafia's best ability-users, and known with one glance that you were stronger than even you knew. It hadn't taken him long to convince you to join the Armed Detective Agency; with painfully dead parents and a burned down house, you didn't really have anywhere else to go.

You passed their little entrance test, even though after they revealed that it was just an entrance test you couldn't help but be slightly annoyed. All that hard work to try and save that girl only for the whole scenario to be fake. Should've just ignored it.

It had been two years since then. And even though you wouldn't really say it out loud, you were happy that Fukuzawa had taken you under his wing.

How else would you have met Dazai? Or any of the others, who you did secretly like, even though you were unsure about expressing it.

One day, Fukuzawa sent you and Dazai to investigate a letter that the detective agency had received. The sender threatened to blow up the Gundam Factory in Yokohama, which was a popular entertainment place for tourists. Fukuzawa did contact the owner, but since the area covered by the Factory was quite large, and the number of people who were already there was also ginormous, the owner asked for them to investigate the culprit before the bombs could go off.

It was an easy job, and you two had it finished before 3 in the afternoon. All that was left now was some measly paperwork, which you would have to take care of alone because Dazai despised that part of work with a burning passion.

And so Dazai decided to fool around a little.

He took you to a bar, somewhere in a deserted alley in the middle of nowhere, walking with his hands on the back of his head and making nasty comments about everything he could lay his eyes on. You followed silently.

"Say," He yanked open the door of Lupin. "What about you, though? Where do you generally spend after-mission free time?"

Dazai led you into the bar, plopping down on a barstool in front of the counter.

"I sleep," You said, sitting down next to him.

"Huh?" He made a weird face. "That's it?"

A bartender appeared behind the counter.

"Mn," You nodded, looking at the bartender.

Dazai ordered 'his usual', and you decided to have the same as him. It wasn't bad, frankly, sitting there next to him on adjacent barstools and hearing him ramble on about everything and somehow nothing at the same time. He drank and drank and drank and drank, till he was telling you about Ango, about Odasaku and the days they spent together. He drank till his pale cheeks were flushed red, till his neck didn't have the strength to hold his head anymore, till his head was pressed into your chest and his shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

You stroked the back of Dazai's head. Sober, he was a goof, running around pretending that everything was jokes and comedy. Drunk, he was much more grim, face set firm even as more tears splashed down it, eyes miserable in a way that made your heart ache.

"What's making you sad?" You asked him, desperate to take away at least some part of his sorrow.

But he didn't answer, shaking his head and clenching the fabric of your shirt so desperately it felt like he was hanging on for dear life.

You let him, wrapping your arms around him slowly, pulling him closer. You couldn't do anything but that, and the mere thought of it made you feel like the most useless being on the planet.

You paid for the drinks and heaved Dazai up on your shoulder, letting him stain a different part of your coat with tears as you walked away from the bar.

You took him to the agency dormitory, but once you were in front of his door you couldn't go any further.

"Dazai," You said, your voice gentle as you slowly put him down, and he wobbled on his feet. "Do you have your keys?"

The man couldn't even stand, and had to lean against the door for balance to look up at you. "Hmm..."

He began fumbling through his coat, hands slowly and thick with the weight of the alcohol in his veins. Finally, he produced a key, holding it up and pressing it into your chest. His tears had finally stopped.

You wiped the remnants off his cheek with your thumb. "Let me open the door, hmm?"

Dazai moved to lean against you instead of the door, and you placed an arm around his waist to support him as your free hand opened the door. You led him into the room, sitting him down on the floor near the doorway so you could take off his shoes. When you looked up, however, he had laid back on the floor, glossy eyes staring up at the ceiling.

"Say, [Name]," His voice was thick, his words were slurred. "Some people believe that right and wrong are relative... That there's no black and white... D'you think that's true?"

You looked at him. He was regretful, you could tell. But the fact that you couldn't help him, that you couldn't snatch all that pain away from him and swallow it was enough to make you bodily ache.

"I don't think I have a definite answer for that," You said, wishing you had, wishing you knew how to comfort him. "Why do you ask?"

Dazai's hands rose, clutching at the lapel of your jacket and pulling you closer to his face, making you hover over him on the floor. "D'you think... In a world like ours... We can ever do 'the right thing'?"

You shifted your weight to one hand, raising the other to caress his cheeks softly. "If you try hard enough, yeah. Even if no one's a hundred percent good, ever, if you try hard enough... I think that's all that matters."

"And..." Dazai's brow furrowed, and he looked adorably confused. "How hard is hard enough?"

You couldn't help but think of how, in any other situation, Dazai would've made a sexual pun out of those words.

"Hmm..." You thought of it, wanting to give him an answer that would satiate him. "Your best."

It was a simple answer, and yet Dazai's eyes widened, as if you'd solved the biggest mystery of the universe. "Just that?"

You nodded. "Just that. That's more than enough, Dazai."

And he nodded back, wrapping his heavy arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer, burying his head in your chest again. He fell asleep like that, holding you like a child.

You took him into the room later, taking off his coat and sweater and untucking his shirt before placing him on the futon and covering him with the quilt.

The next day when you saw him at the agency, he was back to his clownery, but something about the way he looked at you had changed.

[nekoannie-chan]

Hoodie

Hoodie

Title: Hoodie.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Pregnant!Reader.

Word count: 377 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You “borrowed” Steve's hoodie.

Major Tags: Mention of pregnancy.

A/N: This is my entry to @buck-star Fluffy Winter Event with the trope, activity and quote:

Tropes: Soon-to-be parents

Activity: Borrowing hoodies/clothes

Quote: “Is that my hoodie? Ah, ah, don’t tell me it looks pretty much alike, it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

The sun was streaming weakly through the living room curtains. You were lying on the couch, with your legs propped up on a pillow to relieve some of the swelling in your feet because you were in the last weeks of pregnancy.

You decide to make yourself comfortable in the softest, warmest garment you have on hand: a huge hoodie that, of course, belongs to Steve. It's perfect; it smells like him, and even though it's a little baggy, it feels like it hugs you every time you move.

You're flipping through your book, enjoying the silence, when you hear the front door close softly. You look up and see Steve walk in.

“Hi, doll,” he says, walking toward you with a smile as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Hi,” you reply, and he leaves a kiss on your forehead before realizing something.

Suddenly, his gaze drops; he notices your hoodie and frowns.

“Is that my hoodie?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Ah, ah, don’t tell me it looks pretty much alike, it’s mine, isn’t it?”

You settle better on the couch, pretending to be very interested in the book. You don't say anything; don't look at it, as if you hadn't heard a word.

“Doll? “he insists, leaning slightly towards you. I know you heard me.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. You turn the page in the book, even though you're not even reading the words.

Steve sits on the edge of the couch, close to your legs. His hand gently rests on your belly and begins to caress it.

“You and I both know that hoodie is mine,” he says, turning to the baby. “But it's okay; I'll let Mom wear it... for now.”

Finally, you can't help it, and a giggle escapes you.

“I knew you'd admit it,” he says, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I haven't admitted anything,” you reply, trying to sound serious but with a smile on your lips.

“Aha, sure,” he replies but doesn't insist further. Instead, he stands up and leans over you to arrange your pillows and make sure you're as comfortable as possible.

“Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“I'm fine, Steve. But thank you.”

[elithe31st]

Hi!! I saw you write for Noah in Total Drama 🤭 could you possibly write where reader is either childhood friends with Heather or Alejandro and how Noah would feel about their relationships including readers childhood best friend.

hihi! thank you for requesting, i hope you dont mind i made this in headcannon form. if you'd like it to be a fic, don't be afraid to tell me :D

VULTURE CULTURE

noah tdi x gn reader headcannons

'' i'll watch my step if you drop another name ''

ALEJANDRO BURROMUERTO [PLATONIC]

noah doesn't understand. at all.

you two were friends before world tour, meeting on island, and watching from the sidelines along with him.

noah was content, happy even

until you flocked over to alejandro during wt

he just...didn't get it.

you still hung out with him, yes, but you had brought the eel into it

into everything

he didn't hate alejandro, no. he wasn't jealous or anything

okay yeah he was just a little bit

"(Name)," He says to you, a very small pout on his face. "What is it with you and Alejandro?"

he looks a bit angry, a bit sad

so you explain

and then hes honestly relieved

mostly because you werent like everyone else who fell for his 'attractive' schtick

plus, that was meant for justin

and then the episode where he got eliminated came

and you were mad with alejandro

like, really mad

but you let him be

like all bff fights, just don't talk to each other for a few days and then you're good

ALEJANDRO BURROMUERTO [ROMANTIC]

everything in the platonic part

except 2x angrier (if you two were openly dating)

"Hey, Alejandro, kindly back off. (Name) already has someone to keep them company, and it isn't you."

you and alejandro would be equally confused

noah? showing an emotion? besides confusion, worry, and rarely happiness?

youd have to explain to him

he'd just sit there. and then give a formal apology to both of you

alejandro would beg chris to let that apology air

and then noah would go right back to square one

he wouldn't get possessive, just more cocky and open about some of his insults towards alejandro

noah getting voted off officially comes around

you're mad

you hate alejandro for a few days

but ultimately noah would just make a very clear emphasis to not trust him

and then you get voted off

but you get to watch alejandro from the sidelines with noah

HEATHER [PLATONIC]

oh brother

everyone knew your status as 'heathers bestie' right off the bat

and even though you weren't mean

everyone treated you like it because of heather

except noah

noah was just another face in the team, but an important one

in between challenges, you and noah hug out a LOT

to the point you two treated it like a secret relationship

looking at each other and then giggling, nudging each other playfully, you get it

one day when you two were hanging out, you ask noah why he hung out with you

he responded with "Trust me, I know not to judge a book by it's cover. I mean, have you met me?"

you laughed

and then heather found you two

she just glanced at noah disapprovingly before stealing you to go elsewhere

elimination day

you weren't surprised noah got voted off

you ate your marshmallow, waving noah a small farewell as he left

next challenge you guys lost, you said if no one did anything drastic to just vote you off

so thats what happened

and then you chilled with noah at playa de losers

and told him about heather

and he just nodded

"Oh well, I'm already friends with a bunch of loons. What harm could a snarky loon do to my conscious?"

and then you hit him

lovingly

HEATHER [ROMANTIC]

noah officially has head trauma

you and him are dating. and you hang around heather a lot. if noah wants this relationship to work, he better be friends with heather

and stat

heather probably jokes about you two dating

"(Name), I knew your standards were low, but not know-it-all, braniac, band kid low!"

"Oh no, I'm smart, what a comeback. What's next, gonna say something about how I'm a nerd? I've heard it all. I'm getting bored, some new insults would be pretty nice."

you have to split them up before a verbal brawl goes between them

you make it work

somehow

go out with noah? get heather something small while you two are doing whatever

go with heather? pick up a book noah's been dying to read after

50/50 split

they eventually become friends

just

heather wont let noah get anywhere near you but it's fine!!!

[impossibleprincess35]

Since you're an American, what are your thoughts on the comparisons of the Duchess and the Death Watch to the election? I read one of your stories and you compare them to alt-right politics in the U.S. Thx!

Heyoooooo, thanks for the ask! I'm going to go TL;DR, so please forgive me and feel free to wish you'd never asked. :)

So, I've never been a Trump voter. Never. It's been a major point of contention with close family and friends, and in the 8 years since his first campaign, it has been eye opening watching people blatantly fall for fascism in the guise of security and strength.

And so, during the pandemic, dealing with so much misinformation and seeing so many people subject others to danger to make a point about their "freedom," when I rewatched "The Clone Wars," the Mandalore storylines hit so much harder.

A lot of times, when people are hating on the Satine character and blaming her for Mandalore's fall, what I see is a lack of acknowledgement that Death Watch was so hell-bent on getting their way that they had to stage incidents to make her look weak and unfit as a ruler. They weren't starving. They weren't exiled from their system. They got a moon. They had political representation with a governor. They had resources. But instead of using everything at their disposal to do better and to evolve as a people, they used it to stage bombings, attacks, and incidents that only hurt their own people and undermined their own system.

But what Death Watch did so well was they spun a narrative that is so false that even FANS believe it.

Like, we're supposed to see that they're domestic terrorists.

But people are out here like, "Fuck Satine, she's the worst."

Oh, okay.

As an American, I've seen two viable, suitable female candidates who have lost to Donald Trump, a piece of shit grifter, a convicted felon, an impeached dirtbag of a human being, and BOTH of these women have lost.

The bar is so high for them, and it's so low for Trump.

And I see that with Satine Kryze and Pre Vizsla.

The damning theories about Satine committing genocide on her people and white-washing them of their history and culture are assumptions made from information given to us on the show by Almec, who turns out to be as corrupt as Pre Vizsla and Tal Merrik, and inferred from the animation choices made due to budget constraints; but those things are held over Satine's head and her reputation as though they are gospel. As though she herself confirmed them.

Meanwhile, Pre Vizsla is out here running an entire terrorist group that intends to destabilize Mandalore's peaceful government just to reassert themselves as strong warriors. He has shown us who he is. He shows us every time we see him on screen after his reveal as the leader of Death Watch. He commits himself to it. He has gaggles of lackeys behind him putting him up on a pedestal, enabling him.

But Satine's always the villain, and always to blame; nevermind the fact that she has proven herself to be a resilient leader who put her people above all else, including her own desires, and she fights to keep them out of the fray between the Republic and the Separatists. More than anything else, their stability and their independence is her top priority.

And I guess, for me, I see strength in Satine's diplomacy, strength in her kindness, strength in her restraint; so when I see people who only acknowledge strength in name calling, in divisiveness, in threats of violence, like Pre Vizsla and Death Watch, I'm instantly reminded of the crowd of American politics who believe that we must bully our way around the world.

The bar for women, especially women of color, is set so high that it's unattainable; but the bar for men is so low it's in hell.

And as an American who voted for Vice President Kamala Harris, and who was genuinely thrilled to imagine a Harris/Walz administration, I've found myself annoyed by the remarks about her that I've read. The claims that she's not tough. That she couldn't hold her own with a room of world leaders. Because I don't see that. And I'm heartbroken to see that the popular vote wanted brute force and displays of bully behavior instead of a steady, calm hand to bring us together as a nation.

Worst of all, I fear the very possible outcome that, much like Mandalore, Americans are sacrificing their liberties for what they believe is security (ie. the xenophobic hate and the border talking points, lower grocery prices, etc.), but like Ben Franklin said, they'll lose both and deserve neither.

And in Mandalore's case, the people were scammed into believing that Satine failed them, when really, the attack on Sundari was an inside job - and when the flames of fear were stoked, the people turned on Satine, on peace, for the safety they believed Death Watch was going to bring them.

And then their asses got glassed by the Empire.

I look at what's going on around me, and I'm disappointed because I'm a dumb optimistic bitch who believed Americans were better than this. And there's a lot of blame to go around, but the vibe is off and things do not feel right. My gut tells me that the game was rigged - that Madam VP Harris was meant to fail from the word go, because the right aligned themselves to win at all costs, even at the costs of their own nation.

But Jyn Erso said it best: Rebellions are built on hope.

So, hopefully we don't get glassed..?

Jesus, how do I even end this post?

I'm sorry. I know you're wishing you'd never asked. <3