#maybe give solo play a shot

[rollforthings]

DnD players be like, "I don't get the point of solo ttrpgs" and then spend an entire afternoon crafting their ideal Loxodon Barbarian grappler complete with a fully fleshed-out backstory and NPC connections, who will never see an actual table because there is no plan in their rpg circle for a new DnD game and this like their 10th character they're adding to a library of unplayed PCs.

[fastandcarlos]

Biggest Fan : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: lando had never expected to fall in love when he was invited to visit psg…that was until he met you

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liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 849,302 others

landonorris: pretending to know what I’m doing 😂 thank you psg for inviting me to watch a game tonight - I loved it ⚽️

73,940 comments

username1: new signing when???

username2: I love that he went to watch the women, I heard he even stayed around to meet the players after too

danielricciardo: not you pretending to be good at another sport

landonorris: @/danielricciardo idk what you’re talking about, ronaldo is quaking in his boots 😂

username3: nobody show this photo to manchester united

oscarpiastri: so this is why you refused to have dinner with me tonight 🙄

username4: footballer lando was an aesthetic I did not prepare myself for

georgerussell63: personally very offended you didn’t invite me to come and enjoy this with you

logansargeant: I thought I taught you better than this…this is what we call soccer 🤦🏼‍♂️

landonorris: @/logansargeant get in the bin 🗑️

username5: I play football too, come and see me play instead 😂

ynusername: thank you for stopping by and seeing us, we had a great time meeting you and learning a bit more about formula 1 ☺️

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liked by ybffusername, jackie_groenen_14 and 482,050 others

ynusername: quick getaway during the winter break ⛷️❤️

39,583 comments

username6: wait what whose the guy

username7: since when has y/n been in the dating game wtf

ybffusername: excuse me missus, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do

grace_geyoro: you said you were going on a solo ski holiday 🙄

ynusername: @/grace_geyoro whoops 💁🏻‍♀️

landonorris: the question is…are you as good a skier as you are footballer?

ynusername: @/landonorris I’m a woman of many talents 😂

username8: are we watching lando norris shoot his shot with the y/n y/l/n right now

username9: peep how y/n was the only player he followed after visiting psg

username10: can’t be the only thinking they’d make a pretty hot couple 🔥

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liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 382,493 others

ynusername: thought I’d repay the favour and see what f1 is really about, thank you for a great day mclaren!! ps am i a papaya girl now?? 🏎️🧡

48,596 comments

mclaren: you’re welcome back anytime y/n 🧡🏎️

username11: how do you look better in papaya than in red and blue 😭

username12: the photo of lando’s garage too 🤔

oscarpiastri: it was lovely to meet you, make sure you come back and visit us soon!!

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri give me a date and time and I’ll be there…I had a blast!!

username13: has lando managed to turn y/n into an f1 girlie?? 😂

landonorris: definitely think you should stick to kicking a football around 😂

ynusername: @/landonorris I’d have been able to drive the car if I didn’t have such a rubbish teacher 👀

username14: something is brewing…trust me

georgerussell63: the mercedes garage is always open fyi 😂

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 lando told me to tell you I’m a mclaren girl now

username15: omg lando told y/n what to say

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liked by username16, f1source101 and 3,593 others

f1wags: rumour has it around the paddock that y/n and lando aren’t just winning on the pitch and in the car but off them two. our sources have told us that the duo have been spotted throughout the weekend looking very close with each other. maybe not so much friends after all?

695 comments

username17: my heart won’t ha able to take it if these two start dating

username18: officially now my only otp

username19: lando has seemed to be a lot happier recently ☺️

username20: pls don’t break my heart like this lando

username21: they both deserve happiness!! we need confirmation asap

username22: I’ve never shipped two people harder

username23: apparently they were all over each other most of the weekend 🥰

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liked by psg_feminines, oscarpiastri and 439,103 others

ynusername: huge win in lyon tonight, so proud to be part of this time ❤️💙

38,594 comments

psg_feminines: two goals and an assist…you’re our superstar y/n!

username24: yay y/n!! man of the match for sure tonight!

landonorris: huge win!! smashed it legend 💙❤️

ynusername: @/landonorris I didn’t realise you were watching 🥺

landonorris: @/ynusername ofc I never miss a match ⚽️

username25: it’s not fair how one person can look so good on the football field

oscarpiastri: can confirm that lando was glued to the screen for the entire match 😂

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri I’m so sorry you had to sit through it 😬

username26: lando’s so busy and yet he made time to cheer for y/n

username27: can you two just date…forever??

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liked by landonorris, ybffusername and 593,054 others

ynusername: a well deserved weekend off, with some pretty cool company too 🌊🤍

73,842 comments

username28: LANDO LANDO LANDO AODLDQML

username29: damn I knew it

ybffusername: you’ve got to be kidding me right now omg

username30: my heart has never beated so fast in my life

landonorris: look at you all sunkissed and relaxed 🔥

ynusername: @/landonorris it’s amazing what a holiday - and pretty fun company - can do 🥺

username31: this is everything!!

danielricciardo: I’m guessing my invite just got lost in the post 😔

alex_albon: look at you two 😘☺️

username32: my two favourite people in the world

username33: oh to be on a beach with lando norris

oscarpiastri: make sure you bring him back in one piece y/n

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri 🫡🫡🫡

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liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and 583,506 others

ynusername: always an honour to wear the badge of my country, a great weekend of internationals before heading back to paris! merci ⚽️🏆

69,293 comments

landonorris: so glad I could be there to watch 🥺🥰

username34: lando was there that’s so sweet

username35: notice all of lando’s friends in the likes, they adore y/n too

username36: people on social media are saying how loud lando was all night long

username37: @/username36 I was there…he didn’t stop cheering every time y/n touched the ball ☺️

alex_albon: who knew watching football could be so fun 😂

oscarpiastri: even without lando I tuned in…what have you done to me y/n??

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri you’re so sweet, thank you 🥺

username38: y/n has been playing out of this world since she started talking to lando

username39: world cup incoming surely!!

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liked by ynusername, maxverstappen1 and 904,843 others

landonorris: adventuring with my favourite person ❤️💙

104,382 comments

georgerussell63: we get it okay, you’re not single anymore 😂

landonorris: @/georgerussell63 now you know how I’ve felt for all these years

ynusername: I had the best time with you!! thank you for being the best taxi driver 💕

landonorris: @/ynusername it’s an easy job with you as passenger princess

username40: you cannot convince me that these two aren’t just the cutest couple in the world

username41: being driven by lando is the dream, y/n is so lucky damn

danielricciardo: looks like a great adventure!! 🤩

maxverstappen1: love seeing you so happy brother ❤️

username42: wherever they are, I want to go

username43: still managing to get the papaya in too 😂🧡

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liked by psg_feminines, oscarpiastri and 1,392,906 others

landonorris: champions league final ⚽️ so proud of you and the team my love for getting this far - you’re amazing!! 💙❤️

104,593 comments

alex_albon: good luck y/n, we’re rooting for you!!

oscarpiastri: lily is disapproving but I’m watching too, go y/n go!

georgerussell63: cannot wait to see you at the next race with that winners medal round your neck!

danielricciardo: ik nothing about football but hoping you win y/n ❤️

maxverstappen1: just remember to do what I don’t, aim at the goal 😂 you can do it y/n!

lewishamilton: no doubt in you y/n…victory is yours!!

mclaren: everyone at the mtc is rooting for you y/n 🧡🧡🧡

logansargeant: good luck on the soccer field y/n 🏆

lance_stroll: idk what the champions league is, but judging from your suit I’m guessing it’s serious - good luck y/n

carlossainz55: seeing as madrid aren’t playing I guess I can cheer for psg just for tonight 😂

charles_leclerc: allez y/n allez psg

ynusername: thank you for always supporting me - and everyone else too ❤️💙⚽️

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liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 593,604 others

ynusername: winning on the field and off the field these days - ily lando 🩷💕

58,704 others

landonorris: if anyone is winning, it’s definitely me 😂 thank you for choosing me 🧡❤️💙

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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[fumiscripts]

✦ DEDICATED TO YOU

✦ one shot ,, rin itoshi x gn!reader

content:: you're a famous idol. and you're dating a professional player. of course you'll be making headlines when your relationship was made public.

for @yui2aku ,, fluff ,, 822 words

additional:: swearing, they're both whipped for eachother, might be ooc

Itoshi Rin is a rising star in the football industry. And you were in the peak of your idol career.

Obviously, the media would freak if they find out that the two of you were dating.

So you kept the relationship a secret, doing your best to not give out any hints. From making sure not to mention each other too much in interviews, to carefully crafting social media posts to ensure that fans won't be able to tell that you were going to a place together. Both of you and your management carefully concealed it from the public view.

But, of course, not everything goes to plan.

PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE ITOSHI RIN AND SOLO IDOL [L/N] [NAME] SEEN HOLDING HANDS AT HANEDA AIRPORT.

This was the headline of one of the many, many articles that flooded all across the internet. Your heart stopped, then slammed back at full force. You stood up straighter, brows furrowing together. The first time you opened your phone for the day, and you find posts about this everywhere.

Oh fuck. You fucked up, didn't you?

“Shit. What the hell,” you curse under your breath, reading more into the article.

Meanwhile, Rin looks up from your lap, opening an eye, disturbed from resting on your thighs when you suddenly stopped running your hands through his black locks. Your eyes flicked towards his,and he gave you a look, as if to ask what suddenly bothered you to halt playing with his hair.

You blink at him, before sheepishly turning your phone around, showing him what's been blowing up all over the media. “So… maybe we weren't discreet enough with the clothes I wore to greet you.”

His face instantly dropped, turning into something more serious as his teal eyes skimmed through the overview of the post. Rin sighed, grumbling something under his breath before burying his face onto your stomach. “...I told you to just stay at home and wait for me,” he murmured after a while, draping his arms around your waist.

“C’mon… you know I had to greet you right away. It was after a big overseas game I couldn't come to— it was the same time I had a concert,” you scoffed, reasoning with him. “The least I could do was pick you up at the airport.”

Rin didn't look up. He was touched by your little gesture to try and make up for not attending a vital match, so he didn't use that argument further. “Tch. Should've at least covered up more of your features,” he lightheartedly remarked. Though he really liked the uniqueness you had with the way you dressed up, so he can't hate on that. “Well, what do we do now?” he asked, moving the topic along from the problem to finding a solution.

You stared down your phone, anxiousness coming back to loom over you. “I should contact my manager,” you remark, watching as he finally lets go of you and sits up properly. “We could schedule a meeting with our PR teams?”

He nodded. “Right. So go do that,” he replied, though he already had a vague idea what they might propose for you two to do. It was a guess.

That guess was right.

The day after those rumors about the two of you having a secret blew up, you hard launched your relationship to the public.

They decided that coming out clean about this would be the most logical way to proceed— way better than the media speculating that the two of you were just a fling and start tarnishing both of you’s reputation. A proper relationship sounded way better than a one-night stand to the public.

After confirming on each official account, the masses began to be a little more welcoming to it. Hell, the ship tag between you and Rin seemed to blow up with positive posts, even. So that fix was successful.

Once the news calmed down through weeks, everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with being an idol with a soccer player for a boyfriend. Majority of fans seemed to love the two of you, often making fan media dedicated to your relationship. And in all honesty, it was cute. Plus, you had more material to tease Rin with.

Now, you couldn't help it. You personally asked for your next album to be something special, convincing management it's for the sake of the publication of your relationship. Though, it was dedication for someone special.

An album dedicated to him.

Rin knew those songs were dedicated to him. If those vibrant eyes of yours while you performed on stage— looking straight at him who sat by the vip seats— said anything, it was all about how much you loved him.

Oh, and with the way he looked at you with pure adoration, it was obvious he loved you, too.

Rin was utterly, hopelessly dedicated to you.

(a/n):: Grrrhsjua not my proudest work since I barely write nonchalant asf characters

taglist:: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku

@lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 15

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension

Matt finishes up his shots, handing the jacket off to Chris before running a hand through his hair.

I take that as my cue, slipping my own jacket on. Just as I’m adjusting the sleeves, Matt starts walking toward me. My pulse skips slightly, but I force myself to act normal.

"Nice jacket" I say, my voice light, playful. I tug at the sleeve for emphasis. "We’re twinning."

He follows my motion, then looks back at his own. For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his expression, something almost unreadable, before he smirks. "Yeah, guess so."

I tilt my head, raising a brow. "Trying to be me now?"

Matt huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, this was all Chris. Maybe he wanted to show it was unisex or something, I don’t know." His tone is easygoing, dismissive, like the whole thing didn’t really matter.

Something in me sinks slightly. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe some kind of confirmation that there was a meaning behind it. That it wasn’t just a coincidence. That he had chosen it intentionally. But I nod, forcing myself to brush it off, not wanting to read too much into it.

Before I can say anything else, Nick, who had clearly been listening, steps in. "Okay, well, since you two are basically in matching outfits, you should get some pictures together."

I blink, glancing at Matt, who looks just as thrown off by the suggestion. He hesitates for a split second, then shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

Chris, already looking back at photos, gives an approving nod. "Yeah, that could be cool. Matt stand behind Y/n."

I swallow, suddenly more aware of the way my jacket feels against my skin, the way Matt's standing just close enough for our sleeves to almost touch. I nod, stepping forward, trying to ignore the way my heart is beating.

We start taking photos, the fading sun casting a golden hour glow over everything. We take turns, everyone gets their solo shots, duo shots in turns between the boys then some of just Chris, Matt and Nick together. There’s small moments, genuine laughter caught between shots.

At one point, Chris calls me over, gesturing for me to stand beside him. "Let’s get some together" he says, adjusting his hoodie. It would be nice for both of us to have photos together, considering how hard we've worked on this.

By the time we’re done, the sky is a deep navy blue. We huddle around, flicking through the photos. The excitement is evident, everyone’s happy with how they turned out.

Chris straightens up, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright" he announces, a grin stretching across his face. "I say we celebrate."

Nick smirks. "You just want an excuse to go drinking."

Chris shrugs. "Yeah, and?"

We all laugh, the energy still buzzing in the air as we gather our things. The beach is still calm and quiet with the sounds of distant music playing from the bars lining the shore. We make our way up to the strip and walk into a lively sports bar.

Chris makes his way over to the bar and orders a round of drinks, effortlessly charming the bartender as he waits. Meanwhile, the rest of us find a table near the open air area, where there's a light breeze.

I decide to make my way to the bar, stepping up beside Chris. “I’ll help you carry them” I offer, reaching for a couple of glasses.

He flashes me a grateful smile. “Thanks” he says, passing two drinks to me. “Man, I’m so happy with how everything turned out. The photos, the jackets, everything.”

I smirk, nudging him playfully. “Even Matt’s jacket?”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, don’t act clueless. His is basically identical to mine, my initial, my favorite number. You trying to make us twins or something?” I tease, though there’s an edge of curiosity in my tone.

Chris looks at me for a moment, confused. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he says, “I didn’t do that.”

My head snaps towards Chris. “What?”

“I didn’t pick Matt’s design” Chris explains, grabbing the last drink. “He sat with me when I was placing the order back in Vegas. I had already filled in everyone else’s details, but he got to choose his own.”

The words hit me like a slow motion realization, the pieces falling into place one by one.

Matt chose it himself.

The same initial. The same number. On purpose. And he played it off.

I swallow, my fingers tightening slightly around the glasses in my hand. My heart thumping in my chest. Chris is still talking, but his voice fades into the background as my mind races. I don’t even know how to feel, shocked? Conflicted? Something deeper?

Chris finally glances over at me, noticing the shift in my expression. “You good?”

I snap back to reality, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” I lie. “Just.. taking the whole night in.”

Chris doesn’t question it, just shrugs before nodding toward the table. “Come on, let’s bring these over.”

I follow, but my mind is elsewhere.

Matt did it on purpose.

And I have no idea what that means.

As we set the drinks down on our table, I sneak a glance across at Matt. He’s leaned back in his chair, talking to Nate about something. My His jacket rests against the chair beside him, the initial and number staring back at me like some kind of silent confession.

I try my best to brush it off and we fall into easy conversation within the group. Chris and Nate get another round of drinks, sliding them across the table. The energy between us is nice, everyone is buzzing after a successful shoot and the anticipation of whatever the night might bring.

Chris grins as he leans back in his chair. “I mean, tell me that wasn’t one of the cleanest shoots we’ve ever done. No arguments, no disasters.. kinda feels wrong.”

Nate laughs. “It’s because I was there. Everything runs smoother when I’m around.”

Matt snorts, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, okay, let’s not rewrite history. Weren’t you the one who knocked over a whole light stand last time and blamed it on the wind?”

Nate places a hand on his chest, replying in defense. “It was the wind. A strong gust. Nature conspired against me.”

Chris shakes his head. “The only thing working against you is your own coordination.”

I laugh, settling back in my chair as the teasing continues. It’s easy like this, the kind of comfort that only comes from knowing each other for so long.

Nick pulled up some of the photos on his phone. He slides it across the table, and everyone leans in to look.

“Oh, this one’s sick” Matt says, tapping the screen. “But I feel like Y/n should’ve gotten the solo shot standing on the rocks instead of me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting I would’ve done it better?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Mmm, not exactly. Just saying your balance is probably better, considering I nearly fell to my death up there.”

“You tripped once.”

“And it was a near death experience.”

Nick laughs. “Guy swayed a little and saw his life flash before his eyes.”

“I felt myself falling, kid” Matt insists, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t expect you guys to understand.”

I roll my eyes, reaching over to take the phone from him. “Anyway, let’s look at other pictures before this turns into the Matt Survival Story.”

The night continues like that, joking and teasing. The drinks kept coming, round after round, and at some point, I stopped keeping track. The buzz in my head was fun, my limbs loose, and the laughter around the table made me feel nice.

Chris, clearly feeling it too, leaned forward suddenly, eyes wide with a drunken revelation. “You know what sounds unreal right now?”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten us.”

“Churro’s.” Chris declared, as if he’d just discovered the meaning of life. “Like, really good, proper churros. There’s gotta be a spot somewhere on this strip.”

Nick laughed, swirling the last bit of his drink in his glass before setting it down with a clink. “That actually doesn’t sound like the worst idea. Wanna walk and see what’s around?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah.”

Nate stretched, already pushing himself up from his chair. “Might as well. I could go for something sweet.”

I expected Matt to get up too, but he stayed seated, nursing his drink with an unreadable expression.

Nick glanced between us before shrugging. “You guys staying?”

Matt barely looked up. “Yeah, we’re good here.”

Chris wiggled his eyebrows at us like he knew something we didn’t before nudging Nate to move. “Alright, suit yourselves. Don’t get too bored without us.”

With that, the three of them wandered off, their voices carrying over the music and street noise before fading into the night.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling as I swirled my straw in my drink. The silence between Matt and I stretched, but for once, it wasn’t awkward. It was.. easy.

“You’re holding up well” he commented, nodding toward my glass. “Thought you’d be slurring by now.”

I smirked, tilting my head. “So you underestimated me?”

“Never” he said smoothly, a small grin forming on his lips. “I just figured you’d be the responsible one tonight.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m on vacation. Responsibility is not in my vocabulary right now.”

Matt raised his glass slightly, as if to toast to that. “Fair enough.”

We both took a sip, the air between us charged with this weird tension, a different tension to normal, something neither of us seemed in a rush to address. 

Matt set his drink down, leaning forward slightly, his elbow resting on the table. His eyes, a little lazy from the alcohol, flickered with something unreadable.

“So, if responsibility isn’t in your vocabulary right now” he smirked, “what is?”

I smirked, continuing to swirl my straw in my glass. “Recklessness, maybe. Spontaneity.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Spontaneity, huh? That’s a dangerous game.”

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I like a little danger.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Yeah?” He leaned in slightly. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

I took a sip of my drink, letting the ice clink together. “And here I was, thinking I was predictable.”

He shook his head, studying me like he was trying to figure me out. “Not even close.”

Before I could respond, Nick’s voice cut through the moment, his energy a stark contrast to our quiet exchange.

“Guys!” he said, slightly breathless, plopping down into a chair, “we just found something way better than this place.”

Chris and Nate sat down beside him, both grinning.

“Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Better how?”

Nick leaned forward, excitement clear in his face. “There’s a bar at the end of the street with a full on drag show happening. It looks insane.”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “We’re talking full performances, outfits, the whole thing. You guys down?”

I glanced at Matt, whose lips twitched into an amused smirk.

“Well” he said, looking at me, “since you’re in your spontaneity era…”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t even like using the term era”

Nick grinned, slapping the table. “That’s the spirit. Let’s get out of here.”

Matt lingered at my side, as we stumbled down the strip and into bar. The place is alive, bright neon lights, a shimmering backdrop behind the stage, and a drag queen in a sequined bodysuit commanding the crowd. She’s scanning the room, mic in hand, looking for her next victims to drag onstage.

Before I even have a chance to process what’s happening, Nick’s hand clasps around mine.

“Oh no” I start, shaking my head, but it’s too late.

“You know we have to do this.” he grins, practically dragging me toward the stage.

Chris, Nate, and Matt cheer from the table, egging us on like we have a choice in the matter. I laugh, half in protest, but I already know what’s about to happen.

Nick’s been dying to perform Alter Ego ever since we watched Crystal Envy and Lexi Love lip sync to it on Drag Race. And now, here we are, center stage, spotlights on us.

The beat drops, and suddenly, Nick transforms. He throws himself into the performance, rapping along flawlessly, hyping up the crowd, while I do my best to keep up, dancing and laughing through the whole thing. The drag queen is eating it up, hyping us both as if we were seasoned performers.

By the time the song ends, we’re completely breathless, and for once I’m not embarrassed by all of the attention. The drag queen dramatically bows to us, then gestures to the bartender.

“Now that is how you commit to the bit” she says into the mic. “Drinks are on the house for these two.”

We walk back to our table, joining back with the others when a tray of free shots is handed to us.

Chris whistles from the table. “I mean, if free drinks are involved, I might have to hit the stage next.”

Matt shakes his head, chuckling as I sit down.

“You really went for it” he says, impressed.

I grab a shot from the tray, still catching my breath. “What can I say? Spontaneity, remember?”

He raises his glass, smirking. “Guess you weren’t lying.”

I clink my glass against his before throwing back the shot, the burn of alcohol mixing with the rush of the night so far.

The warmth of the alcohol spreads through my body all at once, a delayed hit that makes my head spin slightly. The mix of adrenaline from the performance and the lingering buzz leaves me feeling lightheaded. My skin is still damp with sweat, a mix from dancing under the lights and the Hawaiian heat. 

I set my empty shot glass down and push back from the table. “I need some air” I mumble, mostly to myself, but Matt’s eyes flick toward me for a second before I turn away.

Stepping outside, the slight breeze feels cool against my overheated skin. I exhale, running a hand through my hair, trying to steady the rush in my head. So much has happened in just the past 24 hours. Getting my locket back, the jacket, the way he looked at me earlier, the teasing, the tension. 

It was a very different side of Matt that I wasn’t used to. 

I lean against the side of the building, staring down at my heels, my thoughts spinning faster than they should. Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe Matt isn’t just Matt, the frustrating, teasing, sometimes unbearable guy in our group.

Maybe he’s the guy who went out of his way to do something meaningful for me. The guy who gets jealous when I give someone else my attention. The guy who’s been watching me just as much as I’ve been watching him.

And maybe he likes me. And maybe I like him too.

I heard the sound of the side door to the bar swinging open behind me, catching my attention. I turn to see Matt walking toward me.

“You good?” His voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

I glance at him standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching me. The concern in his eyes is subtle, but it’s there.

“Yeah” I say, offering a small smile. “Just a bit warm. And very drunk.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. “Yeah, no shit. You and Nick just put on a whole damn concert in there.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s been waiting for that moment.”

Matt smirks but then tilts his head slightly, considering me. “You wanna go for a walk on the beach or something? Might make you feel better.”

I hesitate for a second, but something about the way he’s looking at me makes it impossible to say no.

“Yeah” I say. “That sounds nice.”

We head down toward the sand, the noise from the strip fading as the waves take over and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Matt walks beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, but there’s an ease to his posture. “So” he starts, a teasing lilt creeping back into his voice, “you gonna add karaoke connoisseur to your resume after that performance?”

I roll my eyes but laugh. “Oh, absolutely. Gonna start touring next week.”

He grins. “I’d buy tickets.”

I nudge him playfully. “You’d probably take the piss out of me the whole time.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, biting back a smirk. “Or maybe I’d just sit front row and admire the view.”

I feel my stomach flip at his words, and suddenly the air between us feels differen again. Even more intense. My steps slow just slightly, and he matches my pace.

“You’re such a flirt” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

Matt smirks. “And yet, you’re still walking with me.”

I shake my head, trying not to smile, but I know he sees right through me. The alcohol has made me bold, but maybe it’s not just the drinks. Maybe it’s him.

We keep walking, the conversation flowing like we never hated each other. Playful. Teasing.

I laugh at something he says, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins, nudging me lightly with his shoulder. “And yet, you love it.”

I roll my eyes but don’t deny it. Before I can think of a comeback, my heel suddenly sinks too deep into the sand, throwing me off balance. I stumble to the side, my hands instinctively reaching out.

Matt reacts fast, catching me before I fall to the ground. One arm wraps firmly around my waist, steadying me, while the other grips my hand. The warmth of his touch against me sends a jolt through me, and I realize just how close we are, his face only inches from mine, his breath grazing over my cheek.

“Damn” he laughs, holding me upright. “You good?”

I grip his forearm, steadying myself. “Yeah, just, heels and sand? Not a great mix" I say, trying to play it cool. "And to think you were suggesting that I should’ve been up on the rocks earlier.”

Matt smirks, but instead of saying anything witty back, he suddenly crouches down in front of me.

I blink. “What are you-”

“Relax” he murmurs, fingers already working at the straps of my heels. “You’re gonna break an ankle trying to walk in these out here We don't need any more ankle problems.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the way he carefully unbuckles each strap, sliding the shoes off my feet like it’s the most natural thing in the world, has my brain rewiring itself.

Once he’s done, he stands, holding my heels in one hand. “There. Now you won’t have an excuse to fall into my arms again.”

I cross my arms, scoffing at him. “I didn’t mean to fall into your arms.”

Matt tilts his head, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He grins. “And yet, you’re still walking with me.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too much, but I know he sees it. He always does. I bump my shoulder against his playfully. “You know, you don’t have to carry my shoes. I am capable of holding things.”

He smirks. “Yeah, but then what excuse would I have to be a gentleman?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, so you’re a gentleman now?”

Matt raises an eyebrow, stopping in his tracks.

“I mean” he says, looking down at me, “I did just save you from eating sand. That’s got to count for something.”

I glance up at him, my heart racing, but I play it cool. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe I let myself fall on purpose.” I say sarcastically.

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. “Oh yeah? You wanted me to catch you?”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sturniolo.”

“Oh, so we’re using last names now?” He steps closer to me. “Careful, that’s dangerously close to flirting.”

 “Please, if I was flirting, you’d know it.”

“Would I?”

I exhale, feeling my stomach flip. He’s so damn cocky, but I can’t even pretend I don’t love it.

I tilt my chin up defiantly, a slow grin spreading across my lips. “Mhm.”

My heart is racing. I can feel the alcohol in my veins, but this, this moment, is all me. No liquid courage, no overthinking. Just me and him.

I step closer, tilting my head slightly, my body moving on instinct. My mind is made up. I want to close the distance. I want him.

I lean in.

But just as my lips are about to brush his, Matt turns his head.

“We should head back.” His voice is quiet, almost strained.

I freeze.

The rejection slaps me across the face. I pull back quickly, my face heating in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

I swallow hard, forcing a nod. “Yeah.. yeah, okay.”

Matt shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something I can’t quite read. Guilt? Hesitation?

I don’t wait to figure it out. I turn on my heel and start walking back toward the bar, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. How did I get it so wrong? The way he looked at me, the way he held my waist, the way he played into everything, was it just in my head?

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that I just made a move.. and Matt Sturniolo didn’t want me back.

a/n : i would run into the ocean and never return if i got rejected like that

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[revive-the-fandom]

You didn't have to go that hard in the tags of the jack post

this one ?

I will stand by my belief that Jack is a civilian, not a fighter. I mean, aside from the fact that he looks shit scared and completely out of his element whenever theres a threat,

(some exceptions notwithstanding) there's also his total lack of fighting technique.

He has maybe 3 moves, total:

standing in defence (staff raised in front of him, usually tight to his body with both hands gripping it)

2. using momentum or distraction to carry a hit (see how he's gripping the staff towards the base so he can give it a wider swing - generating more momentum which makes the hit harder)

3. sparkles attack

and sparkles attack is a very new thing for him, it's the only reason he has any confidence in a fight, because he thinks he's discovered the atom bomb of attacks.

but it's not actually that effective, it caught Pitch off-guard sure, it revealed Jack's potential, sure, but once Pitch knew what he was up against he countered it easy-peasy.

what the sparkles attack actually does is give Jack a ranged attack, which is where he's most comfortable.

(side note: rotg does have a continuity issue with the sparkles attack. It's supposed to be a new thing, as previously he was limited to using touch to summon frost/ice onto a surface,

even in the sled scene, he's still using touch by dragging his staff on the ground, summoning the ice and then directing it after the fact.

but there's two instances prior to the sparkles being discovered where he uses that ranged ability,

he shouldn't have that ability yet, hence, continuity issue).

so having that ranged attack allowed him a foothold in a fight, but he's still inexperienced, so you end up with those moments in the final fight where he's caught off guard,

and while I'm arguing here that it's because he's a civilian and is not trained to deal with these situations, there's also his overarching development coming into play here.

He's spent the rest of the movie relying on others, dodging responsibility, and the antartica/memory scene really signals a change for him where he accepts that he needs to hold his own weight a little more. Him charging into this fight solo?

to me, that's the warning signs that Jack's taken that lesson too far. He's aware that he needs to hold his own in a fight, but he lacks the experience to understand that he needs to do so in moderation.

but that's a problem for future Jack (and fics) to deal with.

I want to circle back for one last point,

the comfort staff. Jack is constantly holding his staff up like this - close to his body, both hands gripping it. But this isn't a good defensive stance, he's not ready for an attack here.

Jack's attacks have him holding the staff in one hand,

there are some exceptions, but in general, he's attacking one handed. Again, using the momentum of the swing to carry his shots.

A much better defensive stance for Jack would probably be, funnily enough, a more open one. But that's where confidence is needed, and confidence comes with experience, which Jack doesn't have.

Jack behaves like a scared civilian, because he is one as far as I'm concerned lmao.

anyway, I apologise for the tangent, I'll take any excuse to yap about my boy.

[killerlookz]

Olive Green Couch | Spencer Reid

description: when your best friend drags you to a party to meet a boy she's been fawning over, you find yourself completely bored and unimpressed- good thing you've stumbled upon a strikingly handsome (yet awkward) young graduate student named Spencer who seems equally as unhappy to be there to share your misery with.

pairing: grad school! spencer reid x f! reader

content: uhh mostly fluff, drinking, reader is described as wearing a mini skirt and wearing high heels.

word count: 4,242

If I have to hear one more Weezer song I'm going to be sick. You think as the slow drums of Undone pour out over an all too expensive speaker system for a frat house.

The MIT frats were nothing like you experienced before, they were- for lack of a better term- a complete and utter sausage party. You can't remember the last time you'd seen this many men in a single room. If you weren't so bored maybe you would appreciate this as a reprieve from the usual maintaining "ratio" of the state school frat parties you'd been to. But even now you'd prefer that if it meant you wouldn't have to deal with another sloppily drunk man explaining the plot of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to you. Rich, pretentious, too smart for his own good MIT frat guy or dude-bro, alpha male, business major state school frat guy- it didn't matter; they were the same side of the same misogynistic coin.

You look down at the shot-glass sized solo cup in your hand, staring at the clear liquid inside. Maybe just one more shot and you'd finally start to enjoy the state you were in. You hoped maybe six shots would be the perfect number of drunk to enjoy yourself. You screw your eyes shut and throw back your head as you lift the cup to your mouth. The cheap vodka burns the second it touches your tongue, and you wince as you feel it travel down your throat and to your stomach. Your body shivers involuntarily as the warmth in your belly grows.

You face forward again, looking across the living room for your best friend- the one who dragged you here in the first place. You had suggested bar hopping or trying to get into a club, you didn't buy her a fake ID for no reason. But she insisted on coming here instead. Here- to this sweaty house filled with... well... dorks. She came here looking for some guy- Michael... Matthew... Miles.... shit, you couldn't remember. It didn't matter, you were here now, and she had ditched you to fend for yourself.

You take a step forward and all the alcohol you had drank prior seems to hit you a once, "Woah" You can't help but say out-loud as you catch your balance and wait for the room to stop spinning.

You take a few more wobbly steps forward before acclimating to your new, tipsy state. You make your way through the dimly lit house, trying to find your friend amongst the crowd and rowdy conversations. Observing the bodies that populated the house you suddenly felt insecure, and insanely overdressed- why was everyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Maybe a mini skirt was the wrong choice for tonight.

You make your way to a back room of the house, occupied by maybe only 10 people by your inebriated brain's estimate. There's an ugly looking olive green couch in the middle of the room- it' had obviously been through a lot but and you hated to imagine what had happened on that couch over the years, but right now it looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. You walk over and plop yourself over onto the couch, the cushions having a lot less give than you expected.

The beginning riff of Someday by The Strokes plays just outside of the room, and you groan- turning to the guy who you had just realized was sitting next to you.

"Do you know who's Dj-ing this fucking thing- can you tell them to play some Britney or something?" The words fall off your tongue, sloppily.

The boy sitting next to you turns to look at you, a confused look drawn upon his face, "Huh- me?"

Shit. He's kind of cute- In a dorky sort of way. His brown hair is perfectly unkempt, and small curls form at the back of his neck. His jawline is sharp, and his hollow cheeks accentuate his prominent cheek bones. His eyes are dark, and he looks a like he hasn't slept in years- you figured with the workload MIT students probably have- it would make sense if he actually hadn't slept since getting there. Truth be told, all things combined he looked a little sickly- he was obviously lanky maybe scrawny was a better word- his button up shirt seemed a little ill-fitted for his body, and his tie poorly tied. Still- you couldn't help but notice he was hot. The first hot guy you'd seen all night.

"Yes, you, pretty boy." You smirk.

His face reads as even more confused upon your clarification.

"Oh um," He looks down at the half-drunken beer that sits between his legs, shakes his head before looking back up at you, "I-uh I don't know the DJ, and I- um, also don't know who Britney is." He responds, a small nervous tremble in his voice.

"Spears?" You let out a small laugh, "You know like- Hit Me Baby One More Time." You half sing.

"Oh-" He looks off to the side, "No" he faces you again.

"Go figure," You scoff, still, keeping a smile on your face. "Say- are you in this frat?"

He shakes his head, "Oh- no, I'm a grad student."

"A grad student?" You respond, your eyes widen in shock no shot the man you were looking at right now was any older than you. "How old are you?"

"21" He responds, almost nonchalantly- like it wasn't some insane feat. "Well," He clarifies, "I'm actually in my third graduate program, I already have a PhD in mathematics and chemistry, from Cal Tech. I'm working on my engineering one now."

"Jesus," You smile, "So what, you're like some sort of genius, huh?"

"Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified- but I do have an IQ of 187, and an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per-minute."

You stare at him in awe for a moment, "So, a you are a genius?"

He gives you a small smile in response, "Yeah- I guess." He nods.

You're suddenly intrigued, only twenty-one years old and already a doctor twice over.

"So what brings you here Doctor...uh..."

"Reid," He nods and presses his lips into a line. "Oh! But, don't call me doctor you can call me Spencer."

"Well then, what brings you here, Spencer?" You correct yourself with a smile.

"My friend- uh he wanted me to come with him, he's meeting some girl here and he didn't want to go alone. I kind of got dragged along."

"Well," You grin, "It must be fate that we're here together on this ugly green couch, because if you could believe it- I'm here for the exact same reason except my friend- she's uh, meeting a guy here."

Spencer takes a small sip of the beer he had been holding, wincing as the liquid touched his lips. You figured he probably wasn't much of a drinker, he probably had things much more important on his plate than getting drunk and partying.

"Not much of a partier?" You ask to confirm your suspicions.

"Mhh," Spencer hums, mouth still full of beer, he shuts his eyes tight as he swallows thickly. "No." He shakes his head violently. "What gave it away?"

"Oh!" You bite your lip... "Nothing!" You say, innocently, voice steeped in sarcasm.

"It's okay," He laughs, "I know I look like a dork."

His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but smile in response. And Damn- he's really cute.

"Oh! Don't say that," You swat your hand at him, "I'm sure you get tons of ladies."

Spencer tilts his head to one side, in obvious disbelief of what you just said,

"I don't really appreciate the sarcasm," He says, his eyes narrowing at you.

"Sarcasm?" You pout, "No- I mean it Spencer, what you're like a genius. And I mean- you're not bad to look at," You bite your lip, "Not at all."

Spencer shook his head, "I was a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school, and until now, I've always been way younger than everyone in college- my experience with girls is practically in the negatives."

"Oooh!" You smirk, "Vegas," You raise an eyebrow.

"Mhm," He takes another sip of his beer, his face more relaxed this time.

"You think I'd make a good showgirl?" You wink

"Oh- um," Spencer is suddenly blinking rapidly as his head scans you up and down. You can't help but feel a little bad at the way you have him flustered,

"I'm kidding! You don't have to answer that." You reassure. "Negative experience with girls, hm?"

"Yeah- I-uh, I haven't even had my first kiss yet." He says, looking down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"No?" You say, still shocked, even given his prior explanations of his experiences with women, "Well..." You start, pausing for a moment, "If you ever want that to change let me know." Maybe that last part was meant to be a joke, but truth is you kind of really hoped he said yes, right there, right now.

"What?" He looks back up at you, eyebrows furrowed, "No- I don't need a pity kiss. I don't even know who you are."

"It is not a pity kiss, and I'm y/n, I go to UMASS, the Boston campus- like 15 minutes away. I'm 20, and uhhh... Well, the rest you can find out later." You wink, "Now you know me!" You smile, perking up from your spot on the couch.

"Well- uh. Nice to meet you y/n" He gives you an awkward tight lipped smile. "Are you- um- enjoying your night."

"God no," You scoff. "Does that make two of us?"

Spencer nods, side moving his eyes to look around the room. It had gotten significantly more crowded since you'd came in here, you hadn't noticed, you'd been too focused on getting to know Spencer that you kind of forgot you were at a party to begin with. It didn't seem to matter now anyway, you were intrigued beyond belief and wanted to know more about Dr. Reid.

"So, why'd you leave Caltech? The weather is certainly a lot nicer than it is here," Your body physically recoils at the thought of having to go back outside to the brisk New England fall after the party was over.

Spencer shrugged, "You can only get so many degrees at one place before you need a change of scenery. I've been at CalTech since I was like- fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Your eyes widen, thinking about what you were like at fourteen. You certainly weren't CalTech material, that's for sure. "When did you graduate high school?"

"1993," He smiles and nods, "Twelve years old"

Spencer had a charming humility about him, he was the smartest person you'd ever met but he spoke in a way that made it feel like it was every day that someone could graduate high school at 12 and have two PhDs by 21.

"What do you plan on doing after college with that pretty head of yours?" You ask, your slightly intoxicated brain unable to stop you from instinctively reaching out and fluffing his hair. Spencer's eyes flick up towards your hand and he gives you an awkward smile paired with a small laugh.

"Well- I uhh... I've been in contact with this guy- well from the FBI, the BAU... Behavioral Analysis Unit. We came into contact after my second dissertation, he was shocked at how young I was, having done so much- he suggested I come to the academy when I was done with this one." Spencer explained, he talked in a way that made him seem unsure of himself, like he, himself didn't fully understand how it happened.

"God," You muse, "The fucking FBI? Could you get any cooler?"

"You know," Spencer remarks, "I think that's the first time anyone has ever used to word "cool" to describe me." The tone in his voice is light, it's clear he's happy about that fact, but you can't help but feel your heart break at the statement.

"Cool even sounds like a little bit of an understatement to me. But you know... I think I'm a little too intoxicated right now to think of a synonym, so cool it is!"

"Do you have any plans for after college?" Spencer asks, nervously running a finger around the rim of the glass in his lap.

"Nothing as cool as the FBI," You shrug, "Actually, nothing concrete, really. Has me feeling a little inadequate in a room full of geniuses."

"Oh trust me," Spencer scans his head around the room, "Not all of these guys are geniuses."

"Well- they're complete nerds at the very least." You giggle.

"I think I qualify as a nerd too." Spencer smiles back.

"Oh you definitely do," You say, scooting closer to him, taking the beer glass out of his hand, "But you haven't tried to talk down to me about some movie everyone's seen, or some album everyone's heard like I'm some dumb idiot bimbo yet." You huff, finishing what was left of the liquid in the glass with a single gulp. You slam the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, "And even if I was a dumb idiot bimbo- what makes them think I'd care about whatever they'd have to say about OK Computer. We've all listened to Karma Police, big deal!" You realize you're getting a little heated over this and cut yourself off, "Anyways," You smile, "What I mean is you don't seem like some self important loser."

"Oh," Spencer furrows his eyebrows, "Thank...you?"

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Y-Yeah, Yeah we can go." Spencer nods.

You stand up from the couch, wobbling a little bit as your legs lift you up. The room, is blurry, for a moment all you can see are vague blobs of color instead of people. You shut your eyes tight, blinking them open to fix your blurry vision. You glance over toward Spencer, who's grabbing a tan suit jacket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He slinks the jacket on over his thin frame.

"You alright?" He asks, concern in his eyes. He must have been able to read the drunk all over your face.

"Y-Yeah I'm fine, lets go," You nod, reassuringly. You could handle your liquor, besides you hadn't drank that much tonight.

The two of you head for the door, wherever it is. Spencer was leading the way, and you hoped he had a better sense of direction than you did. The music is suddenly a lot louder as you exit the room you were in, and you suddenly feel a lot drunker. The sudden change in feeling causes you to stumble a little, bumping Spencer in the back. High heels and alcohol were never a good mix.

"Oh- hey," Spencer stops suddenly, turning around to smile at you, "Are you sure you're alright?"

You look around the room, at the hoard of people, the room thick with a combination of weed and cigarette smoke. You've never felt so lost in your life when did it get so crowded in here? The obnoxious yelling of frat guys mixed with the music turned to a volume you were sure would get the cops to show up is absolutely ear-splitting.

"Can you hold my hand?" You ask Spencer, needing his guidance more than you realized.

"Uh, yeah, yeah." He nods. You reach your hand out for Spencer to grab, and it takes him a few times to correctly slot his fingers between yours. You smile a little, watching him try to figure out the perfect hand-holding position. He couldn't be more pathetic if he tried- it was kind of adorable.

Spencer's hand is warm, a little sweaty against your palm. But his grip is tight and reassuring as the two of you walk the rest of the way out of the house.

As soon as the front door opens a brisk wind hits you, nipping at your exposed flesh. Goosebumps already dot up and down your skin, the only warmth you feel is Spencer's hand wrapped around yours, and you knew that warm sensation would end as soon as his hand got cold too.

With a little hesitance, you step outside to brave the cold. Your heels click as you carefully make your way down the concrete steps in front of the house. You stare down at your feat as you make each movement, fearing accidentally rolling your ankle or falling. You'd probably take end up Spencer down with you.

"Hmm," Spencer hums, noticing your trepidation, "Here," Spencer untwines his hand from yours and places an arm around your back, reaching to your other side, but barely touches your other arm, just holds firm enough for you not to fall.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, thankful for Spencer's help,

"You don't have to hold me so far away you know, you can pull me a little closer." You turn your head to look at him, "I mean it is kind of chilly out."

"Oh-uh," Spencer's arm pulls to hold you just a little bit closer, "Better?" His grip is still pretty weak around you, and you sigh.

"You know, Spence, I'm still pretty cold." You frown, staring down the suit jacket he was wearing.

"Do you want to go back inside? I didn't even have a full beer the entire time I was there- I can go get my car real quick and drive you home if you want. It's only a block or so away." Spencer responds, his voice quick, and nervous- it was obvious he was eager to solve the problem of you being so cold.

"No," You laugh, shaking your head, "I'm cold is kind of girl-code for, you should give me your jacket."

"Oh!" Spencer laughs, "Oh- I'm sorry, yeah- here, here have it." Spencer speaks earnestly as he slips the jacket off of his shoulders. He shivers as the loss of the fabric leaves him in only a thin button up and you can't help but feel a little bad for asking him to give it to you. But he hands you the jacket with a smile on his face, which lingers even after you put it on. It provides a marginal amount more of warmth than what you felt prior.

"Better?" Spencer asks.

"Mhm," You nod, "Thank you."

Spencer only gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod in response.

"So," Spencer starts as the two of you begin walking, his hand slipping into yours almost instinctually, it catches you a little off guard, and you feel your cheeks run hot at the gesture. "Where are you headed?"

"Oh- uh, back to Boston I guess," You squint your eyes, thinking, "I usually take the bus, the stop is up that way." You point up ahead in front of you.

"Let me go with you," Spencer says quickly, "I mean- not to your place, but let me ride the bus with you, I don't want you going by yourself."

"Why not? I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." You retort, trying to hide the fact that secretly, butterflies are growing in your stomach at his eagerness to take care of you.

"I just want to make sure you get home okay." His hand grips yours tighter.

"Okay," A small smile draws at your lips, you don't want to fight him on it anymore, truth was you'd love nothing more than to spend a little bit more time with him, even if it was a short bus ride.

The streets of the city are utterly dead, not a sound to be heard except the whistling of the wind and collision of your high heels and the pavement. You wonder what time it even is, how long had you even spent at that stupid party?

The bus is just as empty as the rest of the city. When it arrives, nobody but you and Spencer are on, the two of you sitting patiently under the bright fluorescent lights for the bus to move. The lights are straining on your eyes, and the horrendously carpet-patterned seats might hurt your eyes even worse.

"What stop do you get off at?" Spencer asks, being the one sitting the closest to the button to let the driver know when it's your stop.

"University Drive."

The lights dim as the bus driver pulls away from the stop you'd been picked up at, and you're able to relax your eyes once more. You let your eyes relax until all of a sudden they're closed and then-

"Hey," You feel your head being jerked, "We're here."

"Hmm?" You grumble, slowly opening your eyes.

Your stomach drops, and you're absolutely mortified to see your head is rested on Spencer's shoulder. You whip your head off from where it laid and quickly stand up from the seat.

The bus ride was fifteen minutes, you couldn't believe you fell asleep. Much less fell asleep on some guy you barely knew. You're a mess of worry as you exit the bus, thinking about how awkward you probably made Spencer feel. You're so caught up in your thoughts you barely notice how cold it is as you step outside.

"Hey, look, I'm right over there." You say, pointing to the large dorm building behind you.

"I'll walk you to the door." He smiles, and your panic immediately slides away.

You walk with your head down, looking intently at the sidewalk under you as you head forward to your building, trying your best to keep in a straight line. You had to admit, you were pretty upset your time with Spencer would be ending in just a few short minutes from now. You tried to scheme up a plan to get Spencer to stay longer, but no ideas would stick to your brain. You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest as you approach the front door.

You whip around to look at Spencer who's trailing just a few inches behind you.

"Well," You sigh, "I guess this is it." You pull your mouth to one side in a small pout.

"Yeah- I-uh, I guess so," He shrugs, "I had a nice time tonight, thanks for, making my first party experience a lot better than i was expecting." Spencer's hands are shoved into his pocket, and he rocks back and forth while he talks, unsure of himself as his eyes dart all around you.

"Of course," You grin, letting your hands drop down at your sides, "Say," You cut yourself off, and shove your hands into the pocket of Spencer's coat, fishing, until you find what you were hoping for. You pull out a pen from one of the coat pockets, and grab Spencer's hand. "I want to see you again before you become some big tough FBI agent." You smile, scrawling the digits of your phone number on the back of his hand. "Call me sometime?" You hold his hand up for an extra moment, before letting it drop back down.

"Mmmhm, yeah," Spencer bobs his head up and down vigorously.

"Okay, good. Goodnight Spencer," You smile, giving him a small wave.

"Goodnight y/n" He smiles back, as the two of you turn around to go your separate ways.

You notice as you turn back around that you're still wearing Spencer's jacket, part of you has the urge to call out to him to give it back, the other part of you wants to keep it- if he wants to get it back, he'll have to come see you again.

"Wait! Y/n!" You hear Spencer from just behind you. You frown a little, thinking your plan to keep Spencer's jacket had been foiled and he was calling to get it back from you.

"Yeah?" You whip your head back around.

"Did you mean it when you said to let you know if I wanted to have my first kiss- and that you'd change that I've never um-"

"Uhh..huh," You responded, a little to eager as an uncontrollable smile began to tug at the ends of your lips, "Are you asking me to kiss you Spencer?"

"Maybe," His voice breaks, unable to look you directly in the eyes.

You raise one eyebrow, "Maybe?"

"Ahem. Uh- I mean- yes."

Before you know it, you're tugging at his tie, pulling him close to you. Your lips are on his, just a peck at first, Spencer is hesitant. He is unsure of what to do with any part of his body, his lips move carefully, his hands unsure of just where they should be, they rest on your hips- before they move right under your shoulders. You make the decision to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. Spencer's lips are soft with inexperience, he has absolutely no clue what he's doing, yet you can't get enough.

The two of you pull away slowly, neither one of you wanting to give up the kiss- but you eventually have to surrender to the night and to the cold. You place one final peck on Spencer's lips.

"Now you have to call me." You giggle, unable to hide your excitement.

"Yeah-yeah," Spencer nods, eyes wide, his lips are shiny and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "Absolutely."

"Goodnight Spencer." You say once more, before turning around to head inside.

A/N: whew! when I tell you I spent all day writing this i mean all day! that's okay though... im obsessed with grad school! reid. anyways..... thinking about making a (potentially smutty) part two to this ;-)

[kikiyoomis]

when you first met suna, the first thing you thought was that “yea he definitely smokes, drinks and fucks around.” and every time you saw him that impression only cemented itself.

your university program had this famed student run party. it was the only highlight of the new school year. people got so incredibly wasted, lost their virginity, got high as fuck… it was a party that encaptured the student body.

you were excited to go to the party, it was a chance to dress up, look sexy and maybe flirt with a couple of guys way out of your league using liquid courage. and besides you had your trustworthy friends with you, so at least you have someone watching your back… at least when they’re sober.

entering the party, the loud music pounded into your ears. people were dancing, drinking, playing games. you scanned the room looking for any familiar faces to go and talk to.

unsurprisingly, you saw suna standing around the patio with a couple of his friends and some girls. he had a red solo cup in hand while his friends smoked. the girls were all giggling and the boys’ body language seemed to give off a flirty intention.

a girl touches suna’s arm and he turns to face her, her hand slipping back to herself. he smiles and laughs and you think to yourself that if he does that more often he could easily be the most popular person on campus. he has the looks and the body it would easily attract a vast majority of people. and it already has for the most part.

‘but it’s none of my business’ you think before heading off towards your friends for a round of shots to start off the night.

drink after drink, dancing with your friends, talking with people you know you’ll never see again, it was really a fun night. so fun in fact, that you’ve ran away from your friends to hide in a dark corner kissing a man you don’t have a single clue about. no seriously. one moment you were dancing, and then the next moment you were no longer on the dance floor with your friends and instead with this man. not that you really care that much consider you’re having the best moment you’ve ever had in your entire life.

he was such a damn good kisser. after every breath you pull him back because you didn’t have enough. tongues fighting for dominance and lips bruising themselves purple with the intensity of the kiss.

“god, fuck, you’re really not gonna let me go huh,” he teases and you leave a hickey on his neck. he places a hand around your ass and leans back, bringing you down with him.

“mmm shut up and kiss me some more” you say locking your lips with his again. it was addicting and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“hey suna where are you?!” a voice calls out suddenly, startling the both of you. the two of you sat in silence, waiting for the guy to pass. you can hear him walking around the little corner you were in, making your heart beat in anxiousness. it would be so embarrassing if someone spots you two…

only when another friend tells him to forget about suna and to just go to the second party that the first guy leaves.

“i thought they’d never leave. that friend has some sense to just leave suna. he’s probably getting high somewhere…” you mumble, a little grumpy at the interruption. the guy you’re with laughs and pulls you closer to the point you’re straddling his lap.

“why? don’t want to share me?” the comment almost cures your drunken mind. despite literally locking lips with him for who knows how long you finally take a look at his face.

suna smiles smugly at you, amused at the fact that the person he’s been kissing simply never bothered to see who it was.

you sat there stunned, at a loss for words. suna leans forward and places a couple of kissing on your exposed nape, travelling upwards until he reaches the corner of your mouth.

“i’ve never been a stoner or done any drugs but i think what you’ve done to me is getting me higher than any drugs could” he teases.

“… you’ve never done drugs?” you say surprised as you mindlessly wrap your arms around his shoulders. though there wasn’t any proof that he did do them, it was just an assumption considering the crowd he involves himself with.

“the worst i do is drink since i am a professional athlete and need to care about diets and shit like that. but im such a lightweight that two drinks is all it takes to have me drunk.”

the reality was so far off of your impression of him. but then again it makes sense.

“do you do this often then? considering what we’re doing now?” you ask, purposefully leaning closer to him to the point you can feel each others breath.

“jealous are we?” he teases, pulling your hips closer to his.

“do you want the whole truth or should i just lie to get this over with so we can book a hotel room and have some fun” he asks, his hand reaching under your shirt, his finger lifting the underwire of your bra ever so slightly.

“if i ask for the whole truth is the hotel room offer still gonna be up?” you ask.

“of course, i’ll make you feel so good that even if you got blackout drunk your body will still remember everything when your mind doesn’t”

it wasn’t that you’ve never liked him, but you’ve also never hated him. he was someone you thought you would never be entangled with so you were indifferent. both of your lives were so different that there wasn’t going to be any reason the two of you would even speak. maybe it was the alcohol in your system but there’s something attracting you to him. something that makes you want to know him more and a little something that would make you sad to see him go.

“i want to know” you tell him.

“i don’t do these things with other people” he says.

“huh? but your frien-“

“my friends do, but i didn’t want to seem like the type of guy to flirt around and seem like an unfaithful partner around my crush. though i seem to have failed according to you”

you raise an eyebrow at suna who seemed to accuse you of ruining his character.

“did your crush reject you? considering you’re even willing to go to a hotel room with me” you act boldly, kissing his cheek while your hand caresses his body lower and lower. suna catches on quickly and grabs your naughty hand and presses to his mouth.

“i don’t think so but i don’t think they’re rejecting me since they’re so excited to go to the hotel room that they can’t keep their hands off of me”

[dumbikawa]

Drunkenly Confessing to Suna

GN!Reader | Fluff | Warnings: Alcohol Consumption

Characters: Suna

A/n: I haven't written in so long so I hope this is good, still a Suna simp for life

Jealousy is one hell of a drug, you think as you watch the girl laugh at whatever Suna just said, jokingly smacking him on the arm with a coy smile. The whole thing made your stomach lurch, yet you didn’t look away. He doesn’t try to move away as she continues to find excuses to lean further into him until she’s essentially using him as a support pole. It’s not like the two of you are together or anything seeing as he’s still as clueless as ever. Regardless, the feelings swirling around in your gut just won’t let up.

“This is your time to march up to him and tell him how you feel,” Atsumu muses, following your spiteful gaze to the cuddly pair. Suna and the girl wandered into the crowd and began dancing to whatever pop song was currently playing. “If you’re not gonna do that then may I suggest, at least, stop torturing yourself and come dance with me. Our moves will be exceedingly better than whatever that is.” Despite the hollow feeling in your chest, you manage a genuine laugh at his attempt to cheer you up. Taking his advice, you shift your gaze to the blonde boy standing next to you.

“You make it sound so easy,” you huff, resting your head against Atsumu’s shoulder. He hangs an arm around your shoulders, giving it an encouraging squeeze. It’s been a bit since he called you out on your little crush, allowing you to either do something about it as he was suggesting or get over it. Now, you were all in university together and that little crush was still going surprisingly strong. It had been so long that now you had to wonder whether it was worth risking your friendship? Not to mention, potentially messing up the entire group's dynamic if he turned you down. Plus, let’s be honest, how could you compete with these other girls?

“Aye, they’re heading over,” Atsumu warns, dropping his arm back against his side as you shoot up to scan the crowd for Suna. Dread begins to pool in your gut as you do indeed see the pair walking towards you and instead scan the table of alcohol you’d been leaning against for something to dull your senses. You only agreed to go to this stupid party because you deserved a break from the constant studying and to “let loose for a couple of hours” as Atsumu put it. Yet, here you were, sulking over your unattainable crush.

Maybe Atsumu was right, you think as you grab a bottle of clear booze off the table and pour a generous amount into a red solo cup.

“Y/n,” Atsumu warns, wanting to stop you from taking the shot that would surely push you past being just a little tipsy. The alcohol stings as it travels down your throat, becoming borderline unbearable as you force yourself to choke down the last sip remaining drops. Atsumu can only help but watch with a combination of fear and admiration as you grab his hand and saunter to the dance floor, hoping a new found liquid confidence will take over from there.

Suna watches you go, worry overtaking his normally indifferent features. He moves to follow you, but stops himself.  Maybe you were trying to spend some time with Atsumu and it would be weird if he interrupted. Although, the thought of you and Atsumu getting together is more painful than he’d like to admit. The girl he had been talking to drifts away, not getting the reaction she’d hoped for from Suna. He'd tried to be interested, yet his eyes always drifted towards you.

This is going to be a long night, he thinks as watches with envy.

And, oh, what a long night it was. Suna recalls his previous prediction as he rubs soothing circles against your back a few hours later while you position your head in between your knees on the bathroom floor.

“Rinnn, you can’t ever let me drink again. Promise?” you slur in-between deep breaths as you try to soothe the constant spinning of the world around you. All Suna could do was laugh at your babblings of regret and agree to whatever you asked of him under the condition that you take a couple sips of water first.

“Why did you drink so much anyways?” he counters, knowing you’re usually far more reserved when it comes to drinking and partying, in general. Although he isn’t looking for a coherent answer, the question seems to strike a chord with you. You lift your head up with a scoff to shoot him a surprisingly sober as if he was supposed to know.

“You were dancing!” you start, “and she was pretty so I wanted to dance and feel pretty.” He’s only able to make out about half of your slurred words, especially when you grow embarrassed and begin to mumble, but it’s enough to piece together a general idea.

“You could’ve asked me to dance, you know. I would’ve said yes,” Suna murmurs, relieved that you can’t see the bit of blush that was beginning to warm his face. The silence that settles after the statement makes his heart race as he realizes his words were a little too close to that of a confession. Although, maybe you were just too intoxicated to hear what he was saying. “Here, take my jacket,” he offers, noticing the wave of goosebumps racing up your skin, and jumping at the chance to change the topic.

He strips the soft material off his body and gently guides you into it. You bury your face in the fabric as soon as the scent of his cologne hits you, relishing in the warmth and smell that’s become a comfort for you. A smile splits through Suna’s face as you nuzzle into the fabric. He might not even care if you got sick on it. It would be so easy to reach out and--

“What if I make it smell bad?” you gasp suddenly, clumsily pushing the fabric off as if you’d taint it with the strong smell of booze and sweat that engulfed your body. Suna moves towards you quickly, placing his hands on your arms in order to pull the jacket back around you. “No...you go give it to that other girl.” You pull away from him with a huff.

Your quick change in demeanor is like whiplash as he tries to keep up. Although, he can’t deny jealousy was adorable on you.

“You’re the only girl I’d let wear my jacket,” he assures you. “Even if you do reek.” You seem to appreciate his words, despite the small insult you barely catch, and relax back into the fabric.

“That’s why I like you,” you hum, feeling content. “So cute, so nice to me.” If Suna couldn't currently feel the way his heart pounded in his chest then he'd swear it had stopped. He tries not to read too much into your drunken words, but the phrase ‘that’s why I like you’ plays on a loop in his head as he begins coaxing you off the floor to get ready for bed.

By the time he’s convinced you to take some Advil and wash a majority of your makeup off, he feels more than exhausted himself. It's well past four by the time you curl up on to the side of the bed and he lays down opposite you, planning to only close his eyes for a moment. However, as soon as his head hits the pillow he's suddenly surrounded by the smell of that lotion you love and, combined with the alcohol he also indulged in, he's out.

---

“Oh my god,” you groan, waking up to the sunlight streaming into your room being too bright, even behind closed eyes. You move to roll over to the otherside of the bed so that you can lay facing away from the window, but before you can make it that far your outstretched hand comes into contact with a hard, warm object that lets out a soft grunt upon impact.

You force your eyes open just enough for you to realize that drunk you somehow got your crush into bed, which might’ve been impressive if you could remember anything more than a few snippets of what happened the night before.

“Oh my god,” you groan again, this time from mental anguish opposed to physical. Though your body aches all over, you push yourself into a sitting position that sends the world spinning. You bury your face in your hands to hide the rising heat as the possibilities of what conspired last night. Some memories feel just within reach, but the more you focus on them the further they get.

“There’s a bottle of painkillers and a cup of water on the table next to you,” Suna murmurs, his voice husky from sleep, as if you couldn’t feel more flustered right now. You quickly turn further away from him, eagerly throwing back the medicine and entire glass of water. “How do you feel?”

The bed shifts beneath you as he pushes himself up to sit against the back of the bed. The embarrassment you feel continues to skyrocket. There was no telling what you might’ve looked like right now, not to mention you desperately needed a long, contemplative shower.

“I’m sorry, but, uh, did...did we…?” You don’t have to finish the awkward question because Suna has already burst out into a fit of laughter. 

“No, no,” he almost laughs, which somehow makes you feel more embarrassed. “Nothing like that happened. Sorry, I honestly meant to crash on the floor--”

“Thank God,” you sigh, too relieved to care that you cut him off. “That’s fine, I just...ugh.” You drag your hands down your grimey face. You need a shower, to brush your teeth, maybe take about ten more pain killers, and drink three gallons of water to begin flushing out your system. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like you were on death’s door.

“Okay,” you begin, wanting to quickly sort out what happened last night. “I remember dancing with Atsumu and a couple other people. I remember you and some girl dancing. What happened to her?” Only once it's past your lips do you realize how bitter it sounds.

“I spent the night in your bed and you’re still jealous?” Suna teases.

“Jealous. Still.” You emphasize the words, hoping some memory might pop up that explains it. “Nope, I don’t remember being jealous.”

“Of course,” he counters with a grin.

“What else?” He raises his eyebrow questioningly as you roll your eyes. “What else did I say?” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

“Nothing much, just that you liked me because I’m, apparently, cute and nice to you.” He watches for your reaction, hoping to answer some of the questions he was too afraid to ask.

“That’s not as bad as it could have been, I guess,” you respond a moment later, trying to keep your emotions in check under Suna’s intense stare.

“Did you...mean it?” His eyes are no longer teasing as he leans back to put distance between the two of you.

“Of course I like you, Rinnie,” you laugh. He sighs, exasperated. His heart and brain continue to pull in opposite directions at your vague answers. This back and forth wasn’t going anywhere because he didn’t know what to ask and you didn’t know what to say.

You were avoiding his gaze, so he moved closer until the space between the two of you was nearly nonexistent. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes are automatically drawn to his lips. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him, but you were frozen in place. He places his hand on your hip before quickly pulling it back.

“I’m sorry,” His eyes are so full of longing that you’re sure mirror your own. This scenario has played through your head so many times, imagining the different ways he might whisk you off your feet with a kiss.

“Don’t be,” you venture. To prove it, you bring your hand to the back of his neck and pull him in closer. His hair is soft as you run your fingers through it, attempting to distract yourself from your overwhelming emotions. Could this really be happening?

You had your answer as soon as his lips connected with yours. They're soft and warm. The anxious feeling in your stomach quickly uncoils as he deepens the kiss, moving your body forward to press against his. You run your hand up his toned arm before coming to rest against his collarbone.

His lips curl into a smile against yours as the kiss comes to an end. Neither of you say anything for a moment afterwards, choosing to bask in the quiet before the painful reminder of how much you’d indulged the night before comes pounding back.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you, I need to brush my teeth.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Suna laughs before stealing one last kiss.

[slut4celebs]

Diss Me

Billie Eilish x Reader

Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI. The smut is literally so quick guys, but cunnilingus warning.

Word Count: 1,348

Request/Synopsis: "a fanfic where Billie and reader have a feud in the music industry, readerbeing the only artist who sells as much as billie does and is about billie's age, reader one day writes a diss song which is clearly about billie (but doesnt say her name) but people start to realize that diss says a lot of things which come across as really flirty. When they meet at the VMA's billie goes up to reader to demand some answers about this and reader straight up flirts with her? It can become smut or fluff from there, up to you." In which Billie and the reader have a love-hate relationship.

Please request here. :)

There was a scoff heard around the room as Billie took her headphones off. (Y/n) was at it again, trying to start bullshit drama with her. Her fingers tapped on the table in front of her in thought. For two people never meeting, there was a strong tension between the two of them. Maybe it was because they started their career at the same age, became hits at the same time, and often have their successes compared rather than mutually celebrated. Billie looked at her brother, who had a raised brow, trying to figure out exactly what her sister had been watching.

"Have you heard this new diss track about me?" She questioned, not even sure if she wanted her brother to hear it. After all, the lyrics at one point went 'I might hate her but man I wish those blue eyes stared down at me while I give her cunnilingus.' Finneas rolled his chair over to her, holding a hand out to his sister to listen to the song, and he adorned a smirk as he shook his head at (Y/n)'s antics, obviously trying to bait Billie. "I don't even know what to think of it. Is she hating on me or is she flirting with me?"

Finneas leaned back in his chair, turning back to his soundboard. This was supposed to be a writing session, but Billie was too busy obsessing over (Y/n)'s new song. "Your name isn't even in the song, Billie. What if she isn't even talking about you in it?" Oh, she definitely was talking about Billie. What gave it away was 'Your peak was at your green hair, babe.' Which wasn't at all true if HIT ME HARD AND SOFT was anything to go by. Which it was. Billie felt annoyance rumble in the pit of her stomach as she tapped her shoe. "Listen, why not just ask her about it Saturday? You two are going to see each other." Finneas reminded her with a knowing look before putting a beat together.

Billie rolled her eyes over her brother's nonchalance over this. Scooting in, she began writing some lyrics, backlash to the song. In that moment, Billie decided she needed to get her frustrations out as she wrote angrily on her paper. Her brother couldn't help but be amused over this long feud going on between the two. After all, Finneas could see that the two were very talented artists who were turned into enemies due to the media. But honestly, they would be such a force to be reckoned with if they just set aside whatever animosity they had for each other. They could probably even write a duet that would stun the world. However, people might not get that chance if they didn't get over themselves. If they would stop playing into the media's games.

Billie walked down the VMAs red carpet in a suit jacket and the currently infamous and trending bubble skirt. Her hair was pulled out of her face with gold pins. She couldn't help but feel irked when a figure got ushered behind her on the carpet. It was (Y/n), she knew by the yelling. Anyone else, she would love to share the carpet with. (Y/n), though. She'd rather be dead than there at this moment. Billie turned her head to meet (Y/n)'s gaze, a look of mirth in her eyes. "Come on, let's get a picture of you two!" People kept cheering. They couldn't just decline the photos so they posed along the carper, getting some solo shots as well.

Once inside, Billie glowered at her. The look made (Y/n) want to laugh as she kept walking forward, ignoring the thick tension. "What the fuck was that song?" She asked, growling. (Y/n) tilted her head, feigning confusion and innocence. "Oh, fuck off. Don't give me that. I reached my peak in my green hair era? You want to give me cunnilingus?" She crossed her arms, obviously not as amused as (Y/n) and Finneas were over the lyrics. There was a palpable silence that passed through them. Billie was obviously waiting on an answer. A real answer, not some bullshit (Y/n) might manufacture in the moment.

(Y/n) was about to answer when Billie pulled her into the restrooms. "If you really want to give me cunnilingus, do it. Right here, right now. Get on your knees and I'll show you who has reached their goddamn peak." She growled, the demand making (Y/n) look at her in shock. There was no one in hell that Billie was serious right now, right? But by the look in her eyes, (Y/n) could tell she was joking as her hand moved, no eye contact breaking, locking the door. "Look at you, now. You had so much to say on your diss track, but now that we're face to face, you're short on words?" She questioned, a brow raising.

Her mouth went dry as she licked her lips, looking up at Billie. "No, not lost on words, just surprised. I meant my lyrics, I do want to give you cunnilingus as you stare at me with those blue eyes." She stated, placing her purse on the counter and dropping so hard on her knees, they'd probably bruise. Billie couldn't help but feel powerful at that moment, making her musical arch-nemesis fall to her knees so easily. Billie fingers couldn't help but slide through the girl's hair in admiration, unaware she was even doing it.

(Y/n) slid down Billie's panties and immediately got to work, sliding her tongue through Billie's folds. She moaned at the taste of the girl's dripping cunt before her tongue circled around her clit. The action made Billie weak in her knees as (Y/n) began to suck on her sensitive nub. She gripped the bar that was to hold hangars as (Y/n)'s tongue made its way to her entrance. It started as kitten licks then progressed to (Y/n) eating Billie out nosily like she was her first meal in years. The sound of squelching and the mixing of their moans filled the bathroom, and Billie couldn't help the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head. (Y/n) pushed her face in deeper to her cunt, her nose hitting Billie's clit as she worked.

Embarrassment hit her with how quickly (Y/n) made her cum. The girl pulled away, both of their chests heaving. One from cumming, the other from slight suffocation of her own doing. Slick coated (Y/n)'s chin and she went to clean it as Billie's racing heart started to finally calm. "I don't hate you," (Y/n) said, shocking the black haired girl as she fixed herself. (Y/n) was applying her make-up, looking at her from the mirror. "I wrote the song because I always thought you hated me." She admitted, retouching her red lipstick, going over it with clear gloss.

Billie's brows furrowed. Making her way over, her hands fell to her hips. "I don't hate you either." She said softly. A small smile danced on (Y/n)'s lips as she turned around. The two kissed, messing up the freshly done lipstick, but neither of them particularly cared at the moment. Right now, they were just lost in each other.

"Well, how about this… We go out there together, we have fun, and then… We can go on a date or something." (Y/n) offered, holding out her hand to take Billie out of the restroom. Billie agreed and the two walked out as if (Y/n) didn't just single-handedly deliver Billie's best orgasm to her. For the rest of the night, they just spent time getting to know each other, dropping the hate that the media had forced them to have for each other. Hate that neither one of them actually had for each other. It was evident, though, that this was a case of the media putting two brilliant women artists against each other, but they were breaking the cycle.

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pulling out), alcohol, dick (being a slut), frats (?)

dick grayson had a questionable reputation on campus. playboy, daddy’s money, beer pong champ, finance bro, and the king of hookups and god does everybody he’s been with know. there’s a reason all of his previous partners shoot him 2am texts asking what he’s doing.

but tonight he has his eyes on you.

loud music blasts in the frat house that feels awfully tiny with the mass of half naked people who are standing and grinding inside of it, random strobe lights are placed in all corners and the theme of "save a horse, ride a cowboy" is obnoxiously obvious with random cowboy hats hanging on walls and flannels being worn by everyone.

you were dragged by your friends to attend this party, one of which you’d never attend, knowing the man-whore personality of the house you’re standing in right now.

you’re leaned against a counter, solo cup of jungle juice in your hand as you’re buzzed, but still aware enough to know you still don’t want to be here.

the only thing giving it away is your bored expression—because your shorts that are uncomfortably too short, the tied flannel, and cowboy hat on your head tell a different story.

people watching was fun at parties, the outfits, the who’s talking to who, and the who’s dragging who upstairs was entertaining to your tipsy self.

your eyes didn’t spot the ravennette who was familiar with everybody coming towards your way till he was beside you, his body heat radiating onto yours and his breath against your neck as he tries to talk to you.

and the appeal of the man wasn’t hard to understand. he’s wearing a white crop top that his abs are peaking out of, an open flannel and jean shorts that show his quads beautifully.

everyone thought the man was hot, but to be attracted to him was another thing.

"can’t tell if you look lost or don’t wanna be here anymore," the smell of liquor too apparent in his breath that touches your neck, making you slowly meet his blue eyes and obnoxious smirk.

you only raise a brow, scoffing and leaning into his ear now. "don’t wanna be here," you say, leaning back on the counter.

and if anybody knows dick, you know he gets what he wants, and tonight his eyes are on you and your pretty tits that are held up by a push-up bra that you obviously wore for him, he just knows it.

he leans over again, this time snaking an arm around your back and moving his fingers along the exposed skin. "c’mon, i gotta room upstairs that’s practically sound proof." and honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him. the man has money to spend, and maybe he did soundproof his single in his frat house, just because he can. or, maybe he says that so that you can scream and his brothers can fist bump him in the morning. who knows?

but your mind is a little hazy and your speech a little slurred and dick’s arm doesn’t feel awful around you, so you lean in again, this time with a grin playing on your lips. "what’s in it for me?"

dick’s eyebrow arched, his smirk upturned and his hand tightening around your back at the question.

"wanna find out?"

and a few more teasing words of banter were said, a shot thrown down both of your throats, and a few inappropriate gropes placed on your body before he had your hand in his, leading you up stairs shamelessly while smiling at his friends on the way.

dick’s door closes with a kick of his foot, not locking it because… why would he? he doesn’t care if somebody walks in on the two of you.

when he turns around and you’re sitting on the bed for him, he’s grateful you’re wearing skimpy clothes, less hassle and easier access. he can only smirk, asking himself how dumb you are, you obviously dressed like this for him.

the man walks over, kicking his shoes somewhere in the dark room and slipping his flannel off, his biceps seem bigger than they did in your finance class you had with him last semester. his hands are big, veiny and long and fuck they feel good when he cups your face, looking down at you and moving his knee to spread open your thighs.

his thumb moves to your bottom lip, pressing the soft skin until you open your lips all pretty for him, taking his thumb in your mouth and sucking.

"good girl," he says, the hand that’s not cupping your cheek going down to unbutton his jean shorts.

then, dick takes a step back, slipping his thumb from between your lips and moving to the other side of the bed, sitting down and looking at you expectantly. "c’mon, show me more of your pretty self," he leans back on the heel of his hands, his broad chest sticking out and his lap looking like the perfect seat right now.

and all you can do is nod with wide eyes and listen to the man who was slowly but surely talking his way into your pants.

his dark blue eyes watch as you rid yourself of the cowgirl boots you were wearing. he licks his lips when you take your flannel off, eyes darting down to your hands that fumble to take your shorts off. you stand there with your cowboy hat sitting on your head and dick chuckles, "you’re doing real good with the theme, y’know?" he slurs.

you roll your eyes, "not proud of it," you slur right back, stepping forward while placing your knees on either side of his hips, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in.

"i’ll make you proud," dick says, his big hands resting on your hips, fingers playing underneath your thong that should just be considered a string at this point.

he leans forward, biting your bottom lip enough to make you whimper before he attacks your lips, forcing his tongue in and kissing you sloppily. saliva coating both your lips, threatening to spill out by how feverish his force is, his hand pushing you against his cock that’s already hard. and jesus you’re glad you wore the stringy panties you decided on because the feeling of him—even through the shorts he’s still wearing is painfully delicious.

you pull back, eyes half lidded and view not as straight as a sober persons, "gonna make me wait?" and maybe if you were sober the quickness of dick’s moves would seem normally paced, but he was quick to push you off of him to the side of his bed and throw his shorts to the side, followed by his boxers. all he’s wearing is a little white crop top and fuck he looks real good.

he’s toned and defined beautifully. not jacked like some guys are, letting it know that they’re juiced up. no, dick was the most naturally beautiful man to exist. (unfortunately, you weren’t the first to realize that… and definitely won’t be the last).

you lean back on your palms this time, watching him walk over to you painfully slow, his cock hardened all for you. "take a picture, it’ll last longer," he smirks, climbing on top of you while pushing you down and letting your legs wrap around his waist that feels so small in comparison to his broad shoulders. he takes your cowboy hat off, setting it to the side because that will definitely come back up.

you roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, arms wrapping around him and lips reconnecting again. the man is quick to arch your back off the bed, one finger sliding behind you to unclip your bra—which almost feels sickening how fast he was to do so—but your brain doesn’t let that register with the alcohol in your bloodstream.

dick remembers your words from earlier, gonna make me wait? and next thing you notice when you look down is your bra thrown on the ground and dick’s lips on your stomach, kissing down with hands on either side of you on the mattress until he’s sat at your pussy that’s embarrassingly wet for him.

"next party’s on thursday, you should come out," he starts while tugging your panties to the side with a curl of his index finger. "dress real pretty for me again."

and dick says that to every girl, sometimes giving a hint on what he wants them to wear, knowing once he hits, he will always quit and find the next person untouched by him.

"i’ll think about it," you say, broken into a whimper as his lips are quick to suck on your clit and his index and middle finger plunge into your wetness. if the music wasn’t booming from downstairs, maybe the sounds of your wetness would be more embarrassing, but dick just thought it was hot and your moans were real pretty.

and again, if you were sober, you’d probably arch a brow at the minimal time dick stayed down there, but you weren’t and were real hungry for him to fill you up.

"show me what the hype’s about," you say as he climbs up to you, one arm beside your head and one groping one of your breasts enough to illicit small whines from your throat. "i’ll see if you can handle it," he says cockily, voice dripping in ego as the hand that’s groping your breasts goes down to line his cock up with your hole.

in one quick motion he’s filling you up, your back arching off the bed and a loud pitched moan leaving your lips with eyes squeezed shut. dark blue eyes watch your face, cocky smirk not leaving his lips for a minute until he’s sucking on your neck. dick is shameless, he’s purposely leaving marks wherever he wants on your body, knowing he won’t let you do the same even if you tried.

the man above you is going to make sure you remember him fucking you, even if it’s just by you waking up with blotches on your neck and chest in the morning.

"too much?" he asks teasingly, showing no remorse with the deep groans he spills out with every time he fills you up. and dick is girthier than you thought he’d be, everytime he pushes into you feels like the first no matter how wet you are. it feels like he’s ripping you open with the hard and fast pace he’s maintaining.

an answer to his question is impossible, the only sounds are moans and whimpers, more so when his lips are on yours. your sounds mixed together are delicious to your ears and you pull him closer, sweaty body’s and breath tasting like liquor feels intoxicating.

he flips you both over with ease, his toned back resting on his mattress and pillow with you on top now. a loud groan escapes your lips, his full length filling you up but from another position was brutal at first. dick gave you a few more seconds to adjust before his big hands guided your hips up.

"you got it baby," his voice is low and full of desire, blue eyes taking over your frame that feels made for him. one hand comes off your skin to grab the cheesy cowboy hat and he motions for you to put it on with a shit eating grin.

coming to realization, you roll your eyes, "really?" you ask, rolling your eyes with a small laugh. but you put it on, and then fall back onto dick, riding him slowly and at an angle that makes him hit the spot deep inside of you repetitively. "fuck, fuck, fuck," you moan, your eyes closing and neck thrown back from the delicious feeling.

while dick is groaning, he can only smirk up at you, knowing he’s getting exactly what he wanted when he chose the theme for the party that night. "you look so fuckin’ good, riding me so good, yeah?" he’s verbally and physically fucking you at this point.

"takin’ this cock so good, baby," he groans, feeling himself twitching and turning you back over again, so he’s on top when he finishes.

in no time dick’s pulling out to spill his cum all over your lower abdomen, chuckling to himself as he pulls off of you and looking down. it’s his favorite view, flushed red cheeks, chest heaving up and down (making your breasts look even more delicious), and his cum painting your sweaty body.

if he was feeling more like an asshole, he’d ask to take a picture. but he knew you were a nice girl from one of his past semesters and decided not to be a total dick.

"you look good," he says it like it’s a reminder, like you’re already supposed to know—because why else would you be in dick grayson’s bed if you weren’t hot? and he walks away, going to the bathroom that’s connected to his room and returning with a wash cloth, cleaning you up with a laugh. "i’m leaving after this," you say, wiping your lips with the backside of your arm.

and dick let’s out an internal sigh of relief at that, he hates when girls are insistent on spending the night or staying for more of the party, latched to him. "fine by me, want me to get an uber?" he asks, throwing the rag to the side and sitting there for another second, looking at your fucked out state—the one he put you into.

you nod your head, sitting up in the bed, knowing if you stay with spread legs that dick will attempt a round two before the car he’s called you gets here. "wanna hand me my clothes?" you ask, not as slurred of words as before, the fucking sobering you up slightly.

"y’don’t wanna borrow a shirt?" because dick has a drawer full of old shirts from varying events on campus that he gives to his hookups, another reminder to everyone else that he’s the one who fucked you good tonight.

"fuck no," you roll your eyes, moving to get your clothes yourself and slipping them on as dick slips his boxers and shorts on, staring at you as you get dressed from the ledge of his bed.

the clothes weren’t as comfortable as what could’ve been a comfortable and baggy shirt, but you were trying to move as quick and invisible as possible out of the party and to the uber that just rang its arrival on dick’s phone. "it’s here," he says, standing up beside you and wrapping a hand around your waist. "sure you don’t wanna spend the night?"

"positive," the exact answer he knew he was going to get.

"this was fun," he says, leaning into you slightly. "you have my number, i’m always available," if it wasn’t dick, that sentence would’ve been cringey and gross, but his voice sounded too good right now and you nodded. "i’ll keep that in mind."

his hand moves to your cheek, tilting it to press a kiss to your face. "i’ll follow you out," which was code for you to leave and close the door behind you as dick freshens up.

and now you understand. dick knew how to fuck.

[oopsnewaccount]

Drunk Text/Raphael Pt. 1

Summary: You, the boys, Casey, and April all have a cocktail night together that ends in you sending a VERY brave text. April x Y/N if you squint.

Warnings: Sexual themes, alcohol

...

You weren't really sure who found the video, but you and April had decided to have a cocktail night with the boys after falling down a tiktok rabbit hole. You knew they had had beer before, they were all twenty one and Casey often brought down six packs for game nights. You doubted anyone had ever brought hard liquor or even canned cocktails to them before, and April and you had decided they had some they had to try.

"Vodka cran?" April picked up a bottle of vodka from the liquor store shelf.

"Hm... nah, let's do a martini. Vodka cran is too boring for a cocktail night." You shifted the now heavy basket you held on your hip and looked through the bottles. "Okay so vodka for a martini, whiskey for whiskey sour, tequila for a margarita, red wine for sangria, and..."

You squeaked in surprise as April dropped another bottle into your basket and you struggled to maintain your grip.

"And rum for a piña colada!" She grinned.

You laughed, nodding. "That ought to get us all buzzed, and then the boys finally get to try something other than Bud Lite."

"Buzzed? Girl we are getting trashed. It's a good thing we can walk home." April looked through her basket, making one last check through all of her juices and mixers to make sure she had everything. "Let's call Casey to meet us so he can help us carry all this down."

...

"I can't believe you got this much shit." Casey shook his head, watching you and April in the kitchen mixing up drinks.

You laughed as you poured out a sweet smelling drink from the shaker into a solo cup. "What is it, Casey? Feeling like a light weight tonight?"

"You're making each of us like five drinks!"

Mikey grinned, flexing his bicep. "Bet we won't even get lit since we're so BIG."

"That's definitely a possibility." You handed off the first drinks to April and Casey.

"I guess it'll be shots next, then."

Raph's gravelly voice made your stomach do a little flip. You hoped your face didn't give anything away as you smiled and handed him his cup. "Shots, huh? You guys are going to have to carry me back home."

April leaned in close so the boys didn't hear, "Raph wouldn't mind."

You smacked her as she giggled, face flushing. You had had a crush on Raphael since you met him. He was the largest of the turtles, all muscle. He had the most gorgeous, piercing eyes - and his voice had you feeling all sorts of ways with his gravelly tone and slight accent. He was funny and hot headed and endearingly gentle. April knew about your crush, and she always called you out on your subtle efforts to get his attention. Red thongs you tried to let just slightly ride up above your jeans, red bras with off the shoulder tops, red lipstick you reapplied until the moment you ended up at the lair, his music playing in your earbuds loud enough to hear without them... you were just too shy to actually say anything. You knew Master Splinter was aware, Leo and Donnie too, Mikey - well, let's be real he probably had no clue. Raph just never seemed to notice any of it, or maybe he didn't care.

You always fantasized about ways you could be brave and get his attention. Pickup lines, propositions... all ideas that never left your mind. However, as you sat beside him on the couch, your fifth drink beginning to warm your chest and loosen your tongue, those ideas began runningrampant.

Rachael crushed his cup in his hand, tossing it to the table. "I don't feel nothin."

Leo rolled his eyes, grabbing the crumpled cup and dropping it in the trash as he walked by. "Well I do, and I think it's a good time for me to stop. Thank you, April and Y/N."

You smiled. "You're welcome, Leo. Anytime."

"Yeah, I think I'm tapping out too. Will you two be okay getting home tonight?" Donnie stood up from the couch, "Casey is probably going to have to stay here. He can sleep in Mikey's room." He kicked Casey's foot. He was slumped over on the arm of the couch, asleep. Mikey was leaning on his shoulder, snoring.

April giggled, snapping a picture. "Yeah, we'll be all good."

"You sure? I can walk you," Raph offered.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, "You could probably carry me just to be on the safe side."

Raph raised an eyebrow and Donnie, Leo, and April shared an amused look. Heat flooded your cheeks. You stood up quickly, wobbling a bit. "I'm kidding, I can hold my booze just fine. Didn't you mention shots earlier?"

You hurried to the kitchen before anyone could answer, bringing back a bottle of who knows what and plopping right back down on the couch between Raph and April. You handed April the bottle, heart still beating fast and face still feeling hot. April hesitated, but then shrugged and pulled out the cork, taking several large swallows. You did the same, wincing as the liquor burned your throat. You handed it off the Raph next, who took probably three times as much as either of you, finishing off the bottle.

You stayed for a bit longer, watching TV you were too far gone to pay attention to before eventually deciding it was time to head out. After your embarrassing statement earlier you declined Raph's request to walk you home, and so you and April stumbled back home arm in arm. As you got into your apartment building, stifling giggles so as not to disturb the other tenants. All of your giggled erupted one you got inside, both of you flopping down on your couch.

"I cannot believe you asked Raph to carry you," April wheezed.

"OH God," You covered your face. "It was a Freudian slip! I just want him to pick me up so bad," You whined. "Can you blame me? I mean April he's massive, he could pick me up no problem and just fuck me against the wall!"

April cackled at your boldness. "I bet he could. You should let him."

"Oh please. I wish. I'd let him do whatever he wants to me."

"He would."

"He would not." You rolled your eyes, standing up and beginning to undress. You grabbed your pajama shirt from the back of the couch where you'd thrown it earlier motioning to your body. You had on a lacy red bra and thong set. "I wash this shit constantly because I wear it so often trying to get his attention. I even try to pull the straps up and give myself a wedgy so they're visible. There's no way he doesn't ever see it!"

April scoffed. "Y/N he's a BOY. He doesn't get your little hints. He just stares at your ass like a normal guy,"

"I wish," you groaned. "He could have my ass. I'd make it fit I don't even care."

You started to put on the shirt, but April suddenly lunged at you, grabbing your arms. "Wait! Take it back off." She bit her lip mischievously, "Give me your phone."

Now, sober Y/N would know better. Sober Y/N would have said no - but drunk Y/N, whether it be willful ignorance or a genuine lack of comprehension at the moment, drunk Y/N gave it to her.

April gleefully took your phone, then your hand, and yanked you into your room. She posed you, kneeling on the bed and arching your back. She pushed down one of your bra straps and had you reach back and spread your ass cheeks.

"April this is so uncomfortable I feel like I'm going to lose my balance!" You whined.

"Shh! Look back at me over your shoulder." You heard your phone camera snap, "It doesn't matter you look hot as fuck."

As soon as you heard the shutter you crumpled down face first on the bed. The alcohol all came crashing down on you and you suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion. You were so sleepy you didn't even notice that April had flopped in your bed beside you, still staring at your phone and smiling. She shook you awake, shoving your phone in your face. You squinted at the bright screen.

You did look hot. The lighting was dim but the flash made for a sexy low lit vibe. You could just barely see your pussy through the sheer thong with you spread out the way you were, and somehow your drunken stare over your shoulder looked seductive with your half lidded eyes. Your bra was falling off of your shoulder and your back was arched very nicely.

"Damn," You mumbled.

"Uh huh," April leaned on your shoulder, "Send it to him."

"Huh?"

"Raph. Send it to him."

At first you felt chills at the idea of sending a picture like that to Raphael, but then you felt a wave of confidence. You shifted onto your elbows and took your phone. You hit send, and typed out a message.

'Come get me, Red❤️.'

April squealed, hugging you. "You are so getting dick."

You laughed, tossing your phone onto your bedside table and laying back down. You let sleep over take you, your face red but feeling proud. You definitely wouldn't regret that.

...

When you woke up the first thing you noticed was your throbbing headache. The second thing was that you were still in your matching red set. The third was April fully clothed beside you. At first you just stared down at yourself and then at her in confusion - I mean, there's worse people to have drunkenly hooked up with. It wasn't until you reached for your phone that it all came crashing down on you and you remembered what had really happened.

You leapt out of bed, fumbling for your phone and shaking as you opened your text thread with Raph.

There it was, your racy picture (admittedly still very sexy but now wasn't the time) and your scandalous text. Right below it, the notification that drained the color from your face.

Read.

[okkotsuus]

"WE HUG NOW" ー taro sakamoto 🪽

features: taro sakamoto (sakamoto days)

contents: assassin!reader, one-sided pining, angst, heartbreak, implied trauma, injuries, depictions of wounds, mentions of blood, very mild gore warning, kind of implied self-harm/self-destructive behavior, tailing, insecurity, songfic, 1.9k words.

notes: this actually came to me in a dream and then i had a batshit crazy one after, oh and i'm still reading the manga so no spoilers pls... blaming @17020 because mimi got me into sakadays and now i'm a little hooked.

taro sakamoto was the world's legendary assassin, he was the best at everything there was: like some sort of god amongst men. everyone loved him, and if they didn't love him: they feared him.

no one was ever fully able to reach him, or even keep up with him. no one except nagumo, rion, and you.

if sakamoto was placed on a mission, even if it was solo, somehow you were always 'in the area.' whether it be okinawa or shibuya: you just happened to be there.

at first, taro thought nothing of it. you were his friend, and you always managed to make any hit run smoother with that sharp wit you were requested for. it was mutualism, scratch sakamoto's back and he'll scract yours.

eventually, it began to grow into something more.

neither of you noticed it; and if you did, you kept quiet about it.

little things began to happen, things like sakamoto keeping a change of clothes for you in his go-bag. or having your preferred mm of ammunition to go with your favorite gun.

the two of you existed in this weird sort-of in between space.

you weren't lovers; but you were certainly more than friends.

only you knew the code to get into his gun safe, and only he knew how to get past the security system outside your apartment.

assassins don't let people in.

it's an unspoken rule of the job.

one you broke.

it all happened one night, when you and taro were both scraped up from a rough mission to assassinate the head of the yamaguchi family.

wordlessly, you were both splayed over a motel bed, not even under the sheets as both of your eyes remained locked onto the swirling ceiling fan.

"why did you let that one grunt get a shot on you, y/n? you're better than that." his voice rumbled, tone non-commitant despite the obvious lacing of worry in his words.

sakamoto has always cared about those dear to him, maybe more than he should.

he always had let rion talk about anything that interested her, played along with nagumo's tricks. he was a good man, assassin or not.

so, when you don't answer, his head lolls to the side to see if you had even heard him in the first place. and brown eyes widen, just barely perceptibly at the hollow stare e/c irises give him.

"i always let myself get hurt on a hit. it's how i atone for the lives i take."

the words echo between the two of you, they make silver brows furrow and thin lips draw flat.

he doesn't speak, so you look away, head turning to make interest of the chipping paint on the smoke-stained walls.

a grazing of fingertips over the torn fabric of your jeans sends your body moving before you can even think. cheap lobby pen pressed against sakamoto's carotid as your weight pins his hips down to the shitty matress below.

taro doesn't even move, not trying to shove you away. he just lays there, limp boned and pliant.

lithe fingers find themselves in the skin on the side of your thigh with an audible squelch. it hurts, feeling him root around in your flesh: but any assassin could take a little pain. his intrusion into your wound is gone as he pulls a 9mm luger from you and tosses it haphazardly onto the carpet.

you don't know what to think, what to do. so you remain atop his form, ballpoint still just barely poking at the skin beneath his jaw. you can see the way his pulse makes the pen dig deeper before it falls once more.

and he's just letting you do all this.

not a single muscle in his body has made any move to resist you.

when he so easily could.

it has your brows raising back to normal, e/c eyes rounding in curiosity.

sakamoto wipes his bloodied fingers on his shirt before tearing the hem of it to wrap it around your thigh, tying it off in a messy knot.

your makeshift weapon fall from your fingers, "why are you doing this, taro?" he hums, fingers drumming against the shitty box spring you have him against.

"you shouldn't hurt yourself, it's not good." he drawls, eyes finally finding your own as he stared up at you in a way that sends your stomach twisting. "can't let the world think my partner's getting weak."

god, you know he doesn't mean it that way.

he means it because you two work together, because he lets you tag along on his missions.

but some selfish, foolish part of you eats it up: the definition you want it to have, that the two of you are really something more.

dumbly, you nod, sitting back and rolling off of him.

"okay, i won't." he's satisfied, turning onto his side with a grunt, broad back facing you.

within a few minutes, he's softly snoring, as if he hadn't just sent your carefully constructed world toppling asunder.

you don't sleep that night.

or many others, for that matter.

all you want is to think he meant that the way you thought he did, even though you know it is the furthest thing from the truth.

assassins don't fall in love.

it seems like you're a pretty shitty one, then.

nothing ever changes, a part of you so deeply repressed is too scared to be the one jumping into the unknown.

that awkward space you had always been in with sakamoto remains. too far to be just friends, but just too far from being lovers.

he makes it hard. unbearably so.

taro is a kind man: he remembers anything you tell him, he keeps his apartment stocked with your snacks, he doesn't let you leave on a mission without saying goodbye (once you forgot and he showed up on the roof of your car).

then, one day, he goes on a mission while you were stuck in a stealth operative on the northern coast. normally, he finishes a hit quick and comes by your apartment after with some shitty takeout and MREs: which he seems to prefer, for whatever unknowable reason.

but, this time, you have to find him.

he's not at his place, not at the JAA, not with nagumo.

you worry about him, for possibly the first time in the years you had known each other. sakamoto is japan's best, everyone had some sort of interest in having him gone. no one had succeeded; hell, no one had gotten close.

what if today they did?

the thought has an indescribable ache burning under your ribs.

it punch in his code and lock the door behind yourself, sat on his couch, and felt tears burn at your eyes for the first time in god knows how long.

he comes home at around 1:32am, doesn't even acknowledge your presence as he shrugs off his coat; even though you know he can see you. his hands are empty, except for a convenience store bag.

sakamoto doesn't eat anything other than MREs, unless it's the fancy dinner provided at order meetings. he certainly doesn't eat junk food and snacks.

"you hungry, taro?" the words come out more fragile than you intend, but he doesn't speak on it. the man shakes his head, holding up his bag as he comes to sit on the couch next to you, tearing into a wafer bar and crunching at it.

it's upsetting, how he won't even look at you, how he doesn't even dignify answering you with words.

"i thought you hated pre-packaged foods..," you mumble, brows furrowing. he pauses for the briefest moment, mid-bite. "the girl at the register said they were good," he speaks.

oh.

that's a weird feeling. one you don't think you've ever quite felt from something sakamoto has said to you.

it goes away when he hands you a pack of your favorite chips from the bag. 'probably why he went in, in the first place,' you think, as if to soothe yourself.

even as you tear into them, there's a lingering sting in your nose, almost like burning.

it never quite fully goes away.

taro sakamoto rarely goes out for the sake of it, much less alone.

so why is he leaving in the middle of the day?

you catch him as you're coming back from a mission, his favorite MRE from the association and some chinese takeaway for yourself. he doesn't look at you, standing on a nearby rooftop and watching in a baffled curiosity.

in a selfish moment, you follow, out of sight.

and you see him meet a girl.

a girl who looked so normal, so soft. not a single bone in her body was dangerous, her gaze never hardened past annoyance. she was so utterly everything that you weren't.

because she wasn't an assassin.

at first, you're angry: furious, even.

you think he's so stupid, choosing a weak woman knowing exactly what happens to people in his line of work. how could he, when you had been standing there waiting for so long?

but when you see the gentleness in the way he touches her arm, like he knows he can break her and it's the last thing he would ever want: it's hard to stay angry.

because she's beautiful and kind and so gloriously normal.

you lose your food on some random roof as you leave. the wind friction from how fast you're moving has tears forming in your eyes, or maybe they were from something else.

sakamoto doesn't seek you out. he doesn't hunt you down when you go on a mission without saying goodbye first. he doesn't show up on your doorstep with food after his hits. he doesn't bandage your wounds when the guilt gets to you and you let your target land a blow.

it doesn't surprise you when he retires.

since he met her, it had only been a matter of time.

you don't plead with him like nagumo does, you don't accept all the offers people make you for his head, you don't ever try to find him: even though he makes it so painfully easy to.

how could you?

he was happy, surely. and you weren't selfish enough to risk ruining it.

sakamoto always got everything he wanted, whether it be fame, money, power, or even his eventual family life. while you got stuck with the weight of what could've been, of everything that you let slip between your fingers because you were just too damn scared.

to him, your friendship was just a small thing that happened in his past as a hitman. to you, when it ended: so did the world with it.

⚜️ ㅤ okkotsuus ㅤ 25

[ginsengkitten]

☆ Hint by ginsengkitten ☆

☆ Slash One - Shot

☆ A/N: giggling and kicking my legs

☆ Synopsis

Current Slash starts taking favor of his young new assistant.

☆ Tags: heavy smut, age gap, daddy k!nk, size k!nk, fluff, praise

☆

At some point, the agency had contracted you out as an assistant for Slash. It was rumored that he had selected you specifically by his own request. It was a big job for you, but you admit you were such a fan of GNR, so you accepted graciously at the opportunity. You were young and new to the industry, but committed to doing your best! It ended up not being too difficult really. His primary Manager had delegated to you some basic duties like scheduling, errands and random loose ends type of things, and the rest of the time was usually free to hang around. You’d met Slash briefly when you were hired, but for the most part he remained a hidden figure behind the curtain with a few brief meetings.

He was preparing to release a new solo album, so things were a bit crazy recently. Maybe that’s why he had requested your assistance more and more. He’d specifically ask you for things that his primary manager could have done. Small things but in a closer vicinity to him. Getting coffee, organizing, etc. Rumors began to spill of favoritism. Soon, wherever slash was, you also followed behind. Paparazzi also began to take notice. Due to the large age gap, rumors spanned from you being his “daughter from secret affair?” Or even londons girlfriend. It was no secret that Slash had taken favor of you. You didn’t mind one bit. Plus, you always had found older men attractive, and he was no exception. It definitely made the job easier. However, conversations and interactions remained a professional surface level. Well, except for the time he accidentally brushed up behind you in the tour bus. Simple mistake. Or the time you caught him staring at your legs when you wore a skirt to work for the first time. Also a simple mistake. No need to make a fuss. Any attention from him was preferable honestly. You became addicted to it. -

The conference room was stuffy and full of the usual music heads and managers. Briefing Slash on certain agenda items for his album release, metrics, things of that boring nature. You sat in your usual seat, the seat that one day, suddenly had your name written on a place card on it. And everyone knew it to be your spot. Coincidentally the spot was directly across from Slash’s usual seat as well. Giving each-other a perfectly clear view of one another. Your seat was a high sitting directors chair in the corner of the room. It lifted you high up off the floor, almost like a pedestal. You’d sit every meeting there and take your notes as instructed. Almost like a trophy he was showing off. One time- a guest had mistakenly sat there before you, and Slash, with his rockstar power, declined to begin the meeting until you had your seat back, and made the guest switch with you. And then he’d watch you. The entire meeting. Glances and gazes over at you. He’d appear so concentrated on the meeting but you could always see him looking at you in between words. You secretly loved feeling his eyes on you. Watching you like a Hawk.

-

It was a busy week, and finally the weekend. You’d wrap up items around the house and prepare for Slash to come home and then normally, you’d take off before he got there. When it would be a few days before you’d see him again, you began playing a little game. You would leave small hints of yourself around his bedroom for him to find. One time it was your necklace on his dresser, then another was a spritz of your perfume on his pillow. Your lipstick on his bathroom countertop. He had caught on but never addressed it or asked you to stop. So you didn’t. A continuing tension between the two of you would rise. Each conversation still seemingly so surface level. Never very long or un work related really.

You were just finishing up things and decided to leave your hint in his closet. You loved this playful game you’d invented and he did too. You couldn’t think of anything to leave as the hint this time. Shoot. Then a wild idea struck you and you grinned devilishly at the thought. Would it be too far? Too risky? It could cost you your job. But fuck it would be so good! You knew it would be. You decided to risk it.

-

The next day on your day off, your manager called you and asked if you could run into work. Said it was an emergency, and Slash had requested you. Shit Shit Shit. You second guess everything. Fuck- okay well, this is it then. End of your career.

You dolled yourself up as you always did. You did your typical Barrettes in your hair. And the usual skirt and blouse. Nothing crazy.

You entered slashes house. Closing the large door behind you as you slipped in. It was quiet. You could smell the cigarette smoke from upstairs. You took your usual route around and then made your way to his office in the den.

“Knock Knock.” You nervously poked your head into the office. Slash was sitting at his large desk, that he himself made seem tiny from his own stocky and built up stature. “Hi Y/N” He greeted you politely enough. “You wanted to see me….?” You continue nervously. “Yeah, I did. Why don’t you come in here doll.” He requested. The nickname gave your heart a little flutter. You obeyed and stepped in fully. His eyes instantly scanning your body up and down. Glued to you. So unapologetically gazing at you like a piece of meat. “W-what’s up?” You ask. “Come over here sweetheart.” He commands with the beckon of his large, ringed fingers. You obey and join him behind his desk. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out your hint.

The black lace panties you had worn yesterday, you had hid them in his jacket pocket. The jacket you knew he would be wearing to a meeting earlier this morning. “I believe you left something of yours.” He says. Your stomach drops. “I-I oh my god I’m so sorry I -“ you start to scramble but he suddenly reaches out and pulls you closer to him with his large hand around your waist. You stood in between his spread legs. “Shhh doll. You can be loud later.” He says. Wait what? You start to blush. He traces your face and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear gently. “My pretty girl….” He whispers in a trance as he eyes you. Your heart thumping wildly.

Your legs weak with desire and adrenaline as you stare back at him with Bambi eyes. He patted his lap, ushering you up. You pause for just a moment. “Come here baby. Come to Daddy.” He coos and pulls you up onto his lap in a straddle. Instantly you feel his hardness pressing up onto your panties under your skirt. His large hands cup your ass under your skirt and start toying with your hemline from behind. “Am I…in trouble?” You ask earnestly. He chuckles low and heavy. “Well, there has to be some repercussion doll..” he says as suddenly he lifts up your skirt and lays a hard smack on your ass cheek. The metal rings increasing the impact. You let out a gasp of pain and feel him bulge under you. He smiles devilishly at your pain. You’re too stunned to speak but really don’t have much to say except that you don’t want this to stop. He cradles your neck in his hand and pulls you to his land plants his lips on yours. You immediately reciprocate.

Things get sloppy and heavy quickly. You connect with wet passionate kisses. Months of tension and craving unleashed. You grind your hips into him and rub yourself on his hardened bulge. He lets out a pleasured grunt and you a series of soft moans. It feels so good you just want more but he stops you. “Be a good girl for daddy and get on your knees.” He commands. You happily comply and slip down to the floor in between his open legs. He unzips his jeans and releases his thick hard cock. He gives it a few pumps as he looks at you. “Such a pretty girl down on her knees for me huh?” He coos. He smacks your face lightly with his reddened bulging dick and you open your mouth for him to enter. He slips inside your mouth and fills it completely to the throat as he lets out a long groan. “Fuck sweetie.” He instantly grabs a fistful of your hair and starts face fucking you to the point that tears well in the corners of your eyes but you don’t wish to stop. He watches you through repeated loud scratchy moans. “That’s a good girl, that’s my pretty girl.” He huffs.

After choking, he drags your head off of him in strings of spit. “You’re my pretty girl aren’t you? You’re just for me.” He coos down at your disheveled state as you pant for air. He helps you up onto your feet, only briefly before pick you up effortlessly and place you on the desk. He leans in and kisses you again, forcing your legs to open with him standing between. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you doll.” He whispers in between wet sloppy kisses. Goosebumps run throughout your body like wildfire. “Really?” You ask in disbelief. “I knew it from the moment I chose you. My doll. My perfect doll.” He cooed again cradling your face roughly in his big hands.

His stature towered over you. He traced his fingers up your skirt along your thighs. You felt the cold metal of his rings along your skin. He thumbed your clit through your panties. “This is mine too.” He whispered, as you feel a finger slide into you. A moan escaped your mouth. “So wet for me already sweetness?” He held the back of your neck as he pumped two fingers into your pussy. He let out of soft groans of pleasure and satisfaction just from pleasing you. “I think its time to make you mine little doll.” He pulls out of you.

The two of you make your way - one clothing item falling to the floor with each step, onto the large pillowy sofa by the fireplace in the den. He throws you down onto the sofa. He towers over you, his eyes eat up your naked body as he gives his cock a few strokes. “Open those legs for me.” He travels his big calloused hands up your chest as he pushes into you. You both moan in unison. “Fuck you’re a tight little minx aren’t you?” He groans huskily. He swiftly starts pumping into you mercilessly. His size filling up your entire abdomen. You let out yelps of pain mixed with utter pleasure with each thrust. He smirks at each noise you make. “That’s my good girl, taking it all in that tight pussy. You’re doing so good doll.” He coos out.

Sweat beading on his brow as his dark gorgeous curls bounced around his face into yours. “You’re mine now. Mine.” Sweat beading down his happy trail and up his muscular, thick body. His grip on you was tight as he pounded stars into you. “That pretty body. You’re mine sweetness.” He said as he bit into your neck greedily sucking on your skin. More pain with more pleasure. His massive stature overpowered you and you felt like you might break in two if he wasn’t careful. Knots were tying in your tummy as the pleasure increased. “Oh fuck Slash-feels so-fucking good.” You moan. “P-please don’t stop.” You whimper out.

Your desperate whimpers leave him smirking, sending him to the edge as you came to it as well. “I-I’m gonna-“ “Cum for me sweet girl, my little minx, cum for daddy.” He encouraged. He had you seeing stars as you rode out your orgasm on his cock. Your walls tighten around his cock which sends him over.” Oh that’s it, that’s daddy’s good girl. I’m gonna fill you with my cum now doll.” With quick hastened thrusts you feel his warm cum flood your walls. The two of you panting as he leaves you. He kisses you and pats your hair tenderly. “You did so good. My perfect pretty doll.” His obsession with you was so magnetic and addicting. “I didn’t know you liked older men so much Y/N.” Slash smirked teasingly. You blush incessantly.

“I’m going to take such good care of you doll. You just wait. You’re mine now, all mine.”

[daydreamgoddess14]

This one is my Ficmas gift to myself 🥰

Somewhat a continuation of Sweat

From the prompt: an unexpected meeting at a carol service.

Declan O'Hara x F!Reader - warnings inc age gap (reader is presumed over 21), semi-public oral sex... in a church. Yep. If that's likely to offend, maybe steer clear 😅

the soul felt its worth

Things had cooled off as summer had rolled into autumn. Maud had returned from London, her play had received poor reviews and she'd marched back to the Priory as if she'd never been gone.

The mood had changed for the worse. Your Venturer meetings had gone from bristling with excitement to quiet and tense.

Declan had put his efforts into salvaging their marriage and you'd had to carry on with your job as if he hadn't broken your heart.

For weeks, you'd left the room as he entered, you sat on the outskirts of meetings and didn't speak to him unless it was necessary.

You'd made sure your work hadn't suffered in the aftermath. You met every deadline, every request was catered for.

And then Maud had left again. After a blazing row, Declan had been the one to tell her to leave. Brought to the brink, his children neglected, and on the receiving end of every criticism Maud raised, he had enough.

She'd snapped at Taggie for signing a consent form for Caitlin's school - something she'd been doing in her mother's absence, something Declan had no issue with.

“You've no wish to be a mother, Maud. Or a wife. You never have. You came back out of convenience.” He'd said sadly.

She was gone before lunch.

Declan had turned to the bottle - again - drinking more than ever.

A week before Christmas, Taggie had tearfully demanded that he come back to them.

She hosted a Venturer Christmas party, proving to him how much they all loved him, how much they needed him.

Rupert had pulled out his Santa costume and literally dragged Declan onto his lap, giving him a full lecture on being a good boy.

By Christmas eve, Taggie was proudly reporting that her dad was back.

You stood alongside the rest of the Venturer team, the carol sheet gripped in your hands. You saw him sneak in late, right behind Taggie and Caitlin.

Your voice faltered briefly at the sight of him, hovering behind his children, but you quickly regained your composure and continued singing with the group. The coldness between you two was palpable, and yet, there was an undeniable tension in the air, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together once more.

He slid into the pew behind you, Taggie, ever the observant one, reached out to squeeze your elbow in greeting. You nodded back at her, unable to hide the slight shiver that ran down your spine, feeling the proximity of his presence.

The distance between you seemed both vast and dangerously close all at once.

Your body betrayed you, as a wave of desire coiled deep in your belly, despite your mind stubbornly clinging to the hurt and anger from the breakup and his behaviour afterwards. The sight of him, so close yet so far, stirred a conflicting torrent of emotions within you.

From your position halfway down the aisle, you could see Lizzie. Across the other side, Tony shot daggers at Rupert who stood alongside Bas.

Monica gave you a little wave from the front row, beckoning you forward. Your big solo. you slipped past Seb and the others, making your way to the front of the church.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have our first soloist of the evening." Fear took a cold grip of you, you could just about hear Taggie wolf whistling over the sound of your blood roaring in your ears.

As you approached the front of the church, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you.

The pianist turned their sheet music to the tune of "O Holy Night," and the hauntingly beautiful melody filled the church, setting the stage for your solo. Your mind raced, as the music echoed through the church.

"O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;

It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth."

Your voice wavered slightly as you sang the opening lines, finding solace in keeping your gaze steadily on Taggie's right shoulder, just a tiny shift away from gazing directly at Declan.

With a small shift, you allowed yourself a brief glance around the church. You saw Freddie beaming at you, Caitlin open mouthed in shock and nudging her brother.

You paused briefly as you reached Declan. To your surprise, you found him watching you with an expression of wonder written all over his face. His gaze was intense, almost reverential, and the sight made something flutter in your chest.

You hit the final high note with relative comfort and finish the carol. The village cheers you enthusiastically and as you return to your pew, Lizzie is there with welcoming arms. Freddie claps you on the back so heartily you almost fall forwards, his enthusiasm bubbling over. You accept their congratulations with a warm smile, but a part of you remains aware of the weight of Declan's gaze still lingering on you.

From their row behind yours, Taggie pulls you against her chest, her slim arms wrapped around your middle and her chin resting on your shoulders.

She whispers into your ear, "That was beautiful..." Her words hung in the air, sincere and heartfelt, further adding to the mixture of emotions churning within you.

Finally, unable to bear the weight of Declan's constant gaze, you make your way past Seb once more, who playfully teases, "Another solo?"

You flash a smile and murmur, "I just need some air," as you slip away from the group. You find a spot near the far wall, away from the crowded pews, seeking relief from the tension in the air.

You focus your attention on the bulletin board, reading the church announcements, hoping it will help calm the rapid drumming of your heart. The words blur together as your mind struggles to find respite from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

"I'd no idea you could sing," he murmured quietly from behind you.

His soft voice, suddenly so close, sent a jolt through your body, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Turning to face him, you reply, "And I had no idea you were such a sneak.”

Catching a glimpse of the unsuspecting guests engrossed in their own conversations, you can't help but notice how natural it looks for the two of you to be engaged in a conversation.

No one seems to be paying attention, allowing a moment of relative privacy in the midst of the festivities.

Declan's intense gaze pierces through you as he utters, "Can I talk to you?"

Your initial response is laced with uncertainty as you ask, "here?"

Your surroundings, still filled with the hum of the carolling and the chatter of the guests, seem both intimate and risky at the same time.

Understanding your hesitation, Declan gestures towards the two narrow confessional booth doors behind you.

His gaze remains fixed on your face, silently pleading for you to follow him inside.

The weight of his request hangs in the air, and the idea of sequestering yourselves together in such a confined space sends a shiver down your spine.

With a bit of maneuvering, you both manage to squeeze yourselves into the tight booth. The space is so narrow that you're barely separated by the width of a hymn book.

The proximity is overwhelming, and your every breath is a reminder of how close you are to one another, your bodies gently brushing against one another with each inhale and exhale.

You're close enough to him to pick up the scent of menthol cigarettes and whiskey mixed with the warmth of his breath as it gently drifts over your face. It's an intoxicating mixture that makes your senses spin and your pulse quicken even further. Being this close to him, breathing in his scent, you find yourself torn between wanting to pull away and lean in closer.

Caught in the moment, you notice Declan’s gaze dropping to the deep V-neckline of your dress, as if drawn to the exposed skin. The look in his eyes holds a mixture of desire and uncertainty, mirroring the maelstrom of emotions you're feeling yourself. The tension in the confessional booth is palpable, and you can practically feel the electric energy flowing between you two.

In the hushed atmosphere of the confessional booth, you find the courage to speak up, your voice breaking the silence.

"What do you want, Declan?" Your words hang in the air, and you wonder if he can see the frantic beat of your heart or the quickening rhythm of your breath. The intensity of the moment seems to stretch time itself.

He doesn't say anything in response, but he leans down, cupping your cheek in his large hand.

Caught off guard by his sudden movement, the gesture is both tender and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine at the feel of his palm against your skin.

The silence that follows is deafening, and you can just about hear your own heart stuttering in anticipation.

Your traitorous body arches up towards him, your breathing ragged and needy.

The heat between you two is almost unbearable, and you find yourself struggling to keep control of your rising emotions.

His gaze flicks down to your lips and then back up to lock with your eyes, the intensity in his stare making your breath hitch in your throat. Every nerve ending in your body seems to tingle, as if electricity is crackling through your veins, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, watching him.

In the heat of the moment, it's hard to tell who gives in first. Your arms snake around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as his lips crash down onto yours. The taste of him is a heady, intoxicating mix of mint and alcohol that sends your senses spiralling. His mouth claims yours with a desperate hunger, as if he's been starving for the taste of you.

His arms tighten around you in a possessive grip, his large hands bunching the material of your dress against your thighs as you instinctively angle your hips towards him.

The thin fabric feels almost non-existent under his touch, and the heat radiating from him is overwhelming.

You can feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sets every nerve ending in your body ablaze.

His tongue teases the seam of your lips, seeking entry to your mouth, as his hands drift lower, discovering the split in your dress and tracing the edge of your lacy underwear. The touch of his calloused fingers against your skin leaves a trail of fire in their path, sending a shiver of desire through you.

Amidst the heat of the moment, he murmurs with a chuckle, "God forgive me. My mother would turn in her grave," as his hand cups your breast over the fabric of your dress.

The combination of his words and the touch of his hand adds a layer of forbidden pleasure to the already intense situation, making your head spin and your body ache for more.

With a decisive turn, he guides you to sit on the rickety wooden chair, the hardness of the wood digging into your thighs.

He kneels before you, his gaze fixed on your face as he asks with a hint of boldness, "Any sins to confess, love?"

The sudden change in position leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable, yet at the same time, unbelievably excited.

The feel of his hand slowly trailing up your leg and through the split in your dress is nearly enough to make you gasp aloud. "Any impure thoughts?" he asks, his fingers gently grazing the damp lace between your legs, causing a shudder to run through your body.

The sensations coursing through you are almost too much to bear, and the room seems to be getting hotter by the second.

Despite the fact that your ears can hear the faint singing of the village, your body betrays you, your hips involuntarily bucking towards his hand, seeking more of his touch.

The conflicting sounds create a strange dichotomy; the purity of the church hymn outside compared to the sin of this intimate exchange within the booth.

Under your dress, he hooks his fingers into your underwear and slides them down your legs.

With dexterous ease, he gathers them up and pockets them, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

He then spreads your knees apart, the gesture exposing you to him, vulnerable and ready.

He guides your leg over his shoulder, opening you up widely to him while you position your other for

foot against the woven window of the confessional. The change in angle provides him with a better view and access to you, making your breath catch in your throat.

"I've missed this view," he mutters in a low, almost guttural tone, his eyes locked on your exposed body.

He licks his lips, relishing the sight before him, and there's an undertone of dark need in his voice that makes your skin prickle with heat.

Your words come out as a strained whisper, "Declan… we don't have time for this -" Your mind is reeling, your body aching with need, but the harsh reality of the situation sinks in.

There's no time, no place, for this kind of reckless abandon, and yet the primal lust between the two of you seems almost impossible to resist.

His response is barely above a growl, "I'm gonna make time, love. They'll be singing and chatting for a while yet, plenty of time for me to taste your sweet cunt."

His words send a thrill of anticipation through you, as if the very air between you is crackling with electricity.

With a sense of purpose, he gets to work, his mind set on making the most of the limited time you have together.

Your fingers twist into the thick curls of his hair, instinctively pulling him closer, as your other hand blindly searches for purchase on the smooth wooden wall next to you.

You're practically shaking with anticipation, every muscle in your body taut and on edge, waiting for the feel of his mouth on you.

The moment his tongue makes contact with your sensitive skin, a gasp escapes your lips, your body instantly responding to the gentle touch.

The sensations flood through you like a wave, and your fingers instinctively tighten in his hair as if pleading for more.

He groans into the wet heat of your cunt, the sound of his moan against your sensitive flesh sends ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, the vibration of his voice creating a new kind of sensation that sets your nerves on fire.

Your hand involuntarily tightens in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp in an attempt to anchor yourself to reality.

He works the point of his tongue around your clit, teasing the swollen bundle of nerves.

With his head buried between your thighs, the sound of his breathing is almost as intoxicating as the feel of his tongue against your sensitive core. Your thighs clench involuntarily around his ears, not with the intent to pull him away, but rather to hold him closer, to feel every tiny movement, every breathless gasp.

He uses the flat of his tongue to spread your pussy open, delving it as deeply into you as he can.

The whispered words escape your lips, "God, Declan," as you struggle to hold back the moans threatening to spill from your mouth.

His touch is everywhere, his fingertips holding you against him with an almost possessive grip, grazing across your thighs, your ass, adding to the overwhelming barrage of sensations coursing through your body.

With a trembling hand, you press your fist to your mouth, desperate to stifle the moans that escape you as he continues to drive you out of your mind. The sound of the hymns being sung outside is like a distant, mocking reminder of where you are, adding an element of sin and guilt to the pleasure he's bringing you.

The feel of his long fingers joining the assault on your cunt is almost too much to bear, the dual attack sending you spiralling out of control. You're trembling, on the edge of something monumental, your voice strangled as you try to keep quiet, to not let your gasps spill out into the open church.

His fingers fill you to his knuckles, stretching you, making you desperate to be filled by his cock. He curls them inside you, pumping them in and out while his tongue flicks over your clit.

It's dark in the confessional, the only light filtering through the cutouts in the wood.

You look down to see him gazing up at you, his eyes almost black in the darkness.

It feels like a confession of sorts. A confession that your love for Declan never went away even when he left you to go back to Maud. A confession that you'd been on his mind throughout their torrid reconciliation.

With every breath, every gasp, his name leaves your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea. There's no denying your devotion to him, the way your body responds to his touch, the way your heart beats for him. You're his completely and utterly.

Despite the obstacles that lie ahead - his children, the differences in age - you find yourself caring less and less.

When you're tangled up in his embrace like this, the world outside doesn't matter. All that matters is the overwhelming love you feel for him and the realization that you'd do anything for him.

His tongue delves deep, coaxing more sounds from you, his fingers working in tandem to drive you to the brink.

The intensity of it all is almost unbearable, the pleasure so overwhelming that your legs tremble under him, a visible sign of how he's affecting you. Even through the haze of sensation, you realize that this moment is just the beginning of something much bigger than either of you.

The faint mutterings of the entire village outside the confessional reach your ears, the music beginning to fade, and the sound of talking becoming more prominent.

It's a stark reminder that this stolen moment of bliss has to come to an end. The service is over, and it's only a matter of time before you're discovered.

The danger of being caught somehow makes your approaching orgasm even more intense.

Declan refuses to give up until he's brought you to release. He works your body with his tongue, circling your bundle of nerves until you feel your gut tighten and the walls of your cunt contract around his fingers. You disguise the wail of his name by clamping your hand over your mouth as you climax under his touch.

You try to steady yourself by gently stroking his hair. Your breaths come in deep and shuddering gasps, trying to calm your racing heart. You know that you need to collect yourself quickly before someone discovers you.

With a cheeky smile, he wipes his mouth on your thigh, his moustache scraping against your sensitive skin and leaving a trail of your cum.

With trembling legs and a racing heart, you mutter, "It's finished, we need to move." You breathe, referring to the service. Yet, despite the situation, he responds with a sincere smile, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

He gets to his feet and offers you a hand, his eyes locked on yours. "We're far from finished, love." The determination in his voice is undeniable, the heat in his eyes telling you that he's not done with you yet.

You hold out your palm, a silent demand for your stolen underwear. With a mischievous grin, he innocently shrugs, pretending ignorance. "I don't know what you mean." His eyes are full of playful twinkle, clearly amused by his own little prank.

You adjust your dress, trying to regain some semblance of decency, and roll your eyes at his antics.

You peer through the narrow gap in the door, observing the village filtering out through the main doors.

Your mind racing, you turn to him and give a firm instruction, "Wait for a second before you leave. I'm going to join the crowd."

He nods in agreement, silently acknowledging the plan and waiting patiently for you to make your move.

As you move to open the door, his hand on your hip pulls you back and he dips his head to kiss you.

The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, marking your territory.

You lean into him just slightly, your palm covering his racing heart, then you step out into the open and join your friends.

After a few seconds,his presence behind you becomes a steadying force, as he engages jovially in conversation with the unsuspecting vicar.

Lizzie sweeps you into her ongoing conversation with Rupert, who gives you a subtle, knowing look, as if he's aware of what had just transpired in the confessional booth.

"Darling, your hair!" Lizzie chuckles, her observation drawing your attention to your disheveled appearance. "You must have been yanking at it with nerves for your solo. It's all come loose.”

You remove the simple hair clip that barely held your locks in place and set them free, shaking your hair out.

"I was very nervous,” you admit.

Rupert's lascivious grin widens.

"However did you calm down afterwards?" His implication is clear.

"I just stepped away for some air," you tell him firmly, maintaining a neutral expression.

Rupert's grin remains in place as he muses, "I'm sure it was nice to find a... release."

As Declan steps forward, Rupert offers a warm greeting, "Ahh, Mr. O'Hara. Late arrival?" The way he says it seems almost challenging, as if testing Declan's response.

"A little late. Then I helped our soloist here settle her nerves afterwards, we just had a little catch up on work. Back to the Priory for a nightcap?"

He looks around the group, casually inviting you under the pretense of inviting everyone.

Rupert turns to Taggie, his own intentions clear. "Yes, sounds good to me. Tag, angel, do you have any leftovers for us to tuck into?"

Taggie blushes under his gaze.

"I have," she assures him. "Got a bottle of champagne as well?" She turns to you with a grin.

“Well, I'd better come with you, then." You beam at her, appreciative of her invitation.

Walking towards the Priory with the group, Declan falls into step alongside you, his little finger gently brushing against yours. It's a subtle touch, meant to be unnoticed, but sending a thrill through your body nonetheless.

The anticipation builds, the thought of having Declan back in your life, and your bed, exciting you beyond belief. You find yourself unable to keep the grin off your face, your mind filled with thoughts of all the things you want to do with him once you're alone.

“Come on, you,” Lizzie coos, “gosh, you look done in! No more solos for you!”

Behind her, Declan's smirk is unmissable.

[piratefishmama]

Angel | Steddie Oneshot

Eddie Munson never believed that he’d go to Heaven. Sure he’d been raised in a catholic household, his uncle was religious, he’d been raised to give thanks for the food they ate, to pray before bed that should he not wake, his soul the lord take an all that jazz.

Wouldn’t believe it to look at him, to hear the songs he sang, the music he played. Wouldn’t believe how he’d been raised if one were to go by covers instead of contents.

But despite his upbringing in the very catholic Munson Trailer of Forest Hills Trailer Park, he never believed he’d go to heaven. Something about queers and submitting to sin and blah blah blah it’d been a long-ass time since his last confession, but Uncle Wayne stopped reminding him a few years back, so he had an excuse to keep ‘forgetting’ to do it.

Turns out, one did not need to go to confession to make it to heaven!

Angels would just. Turn up, apparently.

Maybe he’d done something good that he wasn’t aware of, he did go to that Make A Wish thing a few weeks back, DM’d a whole one shot for the kids, he’d spent hours there, a whole dang day just… hanging out with sick kids.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what brought this heavenly creature to his side.

To cut a long story short, he was on stage one minute, belting out the lyrics from the final verse of the last song in their set ‘Into the Underdark’, Jeff was slipping into the ending guitar solo, Eddie was gearing up for an end of gig crowd surf and the next.

The next he was looking into a bright, blinding light that kept moving between his eyes.

He’d always been told not to go to the light. If you see it? Don’t go to it, going to it would make whatever trip you were going on a one way ticket, there was no going back when you reached that light. Just hang back, wait for the resuscitation, it’d happen, someone would breathe life back into you, or whack you with enough voltage to get that heart kickin again, just don’t go into that light.

That light was way too close to his eyes, and he couldn’t swat it away. His arms felt tied down. Rude.

And then the light was gone, had he reached it? Was that it? One way ticket stub punched, sorry Earth, Munson out. “Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” Oh what heavenly chorus, the light had momentarily blinded him but shit… when his sight came back, at least enough to make out the vague shape of a very square jaw, of angular features, of warm hazel eyes, and a luscious head of hair surrounded by a halo of brilliant white light.

Angel. He had an audience with an Angel. It could only be an Angel. Neat.

He’d enjoy the ‘I Told You So’ he got from his uncle whenever the old goat made it up there he hoped it wouldn’t be soon though, he’d prefer a longer wait than a short one, thanks.

“Mnn… I hear you big boy, are you sure I’m in the right place though? I’ve been told Heaven wouldn’t want me” it sounded smooth in his head, but he was pretty sure he slurred half the words.

How could he have a slurred voice in Heaven? That didn’t seem fair.

Oh he’d forgive the slurred speech bit if the angel kept making that wonderful music with his vocal chords, that little giggle of a laugh, so bubbly and sweet, yep. Somehow he’d weaselled his way into Heaven. Suck it soccer moms. “Well, at least you can summon the strength to be charming.”

He was charming? An angel thought he was charming? Hell yeah, he’d rock this heaven shit, he already had an in with the big, winged boys!

“I can summon the strength for other stuff too, worship ain’t ever really been my thing but, baby I think I can learn for a literal Angel” he’d subject himself to an afterlife on his knees gladly if it meant he’d have his hands curled around this creature’s thighs, his mouth on—

“Oh wow…” Eddie couldn’t really see it properly thanks to the lovely blinding spots in his eyes that was no doubt his eyes adjusting to heavenly light, but he was sure his angel was blushing, he sounded a little breathless. Good. “You’re uh… wow”

Eddie hadn’t had much charm before becoming world famous but, he’d gained a little experience. Women and men alike throwing themselves at him, knowing he wasn’t all that fussed, babes were babes. All genders welcome to hop on and take a ride. He knew it was mostly the fame, he was still the same nerd he’d been back in high school, but… if fame got him laid then fame got him laid.

At the very least it gave him the experience to flirt with one of Gods pretty little birds. Maybe even score if the reaction he got was any indication.

So much for lust being a punishable sin, huzzah.

Steve was having a day. Okay no, Steve was having a whole week. The only upside to his overtime riddled ass, was that Robin had been on the majority of his shifts with him, so they could at least talk in the ambulance while they roamed the streets waiting for chaos to drop.

Monday, it’d been a seven car pileup on the highway, a few lost limbs, no fatalities but one hell of a close call on two accounts.

Tuesday, it’d been a tumble at a care home resulting in a popped hip and some heavy flirting from a few old ladies. Poor Robin suffering it from a few old men trying to shoot a shot they didn’t have.

Wednesday it’d been crisis after crisis resulting in him not finishing his shift until six hours after he was meant to finish his shift.

Thursday he had one blessed night off, thankfully his on-call status hadn’t dragged him in, and he got a decent six hour nap in.

Friday, another car wreck, he didn’t want to think about that one.

And now Saturday.

Dispatch sent them to the sold out arena, some idiot had leapt off the stage likely for a crowd surf, his foot tangled in an amp chord, it reduced his air time dramatically and he brained himself on one of the guard rails.

Excellent. At least he wasn’t dead.

Which given how easily one could wind up six feet under from such a whack to the head, he was lucky.

They parked by the side exit, shuffled in by security, and right through into the arena. The patient hadn’t been moved as per dispatchers instructions to the person who’d called. No moving the idiot until the professionals arrived and determined it safe.

Cameras, flashing lights, big beefy security guards standing in front of them blocking the majority of what was happening from view, there was… quite a bit of blood there. It didn’t look pretty in that lighting. “The crowd’s too much, let’s get him to the ambulance.” Robin’s patience didn’t exist when it came to large crowds.

Too many people. Plus she’d been on shift five hours longer than he had.

“Alright, you two, c’mere” Steve singled out two of the big security guys “we’re gonna need you to help us get him onto the gurney, we’ll look him over in the back of the ambulance.” There were no broken bones, nothing stopping them from moving him just enough to get him to the ambulance unscathed.

And then, somewhere between writing out paperwork, checking vitals, and Robin googling who this guy was, said guy… woke up.

Steve, being closer, was quick to check responsiveness, pupils reacted well to light although a concussion did look likely, they’d cleaned up the blood and found the cause to be a cut just above his left eyebrow that’d probably make a kickass scar and oh.

Without the blood. Oh. Oh he was pretty. Pretty plump lips, long lashes, deep brown eyes, faint freckles across his nose. All that hair. He was pretty.

“Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” He’d asked, while shining that little torch into those pretty brown eyes, left to right to check the responsiveness. And then he spoke and Steve— well. Robin was eyeballing him judgementally pretty damn hard given how fast his face flamed red.

Her head in her hands, her fingers plugged into her ears as Munson rattled off promises of worship and good lord— Steve didn’t know what to say, what to do, what does one do when a hot yet slightly delirious rockstar offers to worship your ‘angelic body’?

What does one do with that?

One awkwardly stutters through thanks while bright red and toasty until they can part with the guy at the ER wishing he’d met him under better circumstances cause it’d been a long ass time since anyone even touched him let alone worshipped him but accepting that he’d probably never see the guy again, so it didn’t really matter.

Until a few days later when the official Corroded Coffin account slid into his DM’s on Instagram, apologised profusely, and requested very sweetly to make it up to him with dinner the next time he was free.

Signed Eddie. With a little angel emoji. How on earth could he say no to that?

[halowishes]

haikyuu players in other sports

this has been sitting in my drafts for months but here’s my random headcannons i have after seeing suncelia_art on tiktok & haazuli’s kuroo

featuring: karasuno, fukurodani, inarizaki, nekoma, shiratorizawa, seijoh (+ sakusa, my love)

hinata shoyo

swim (breaststroke). sport climbing (speed climbing). it’s hard imagining him not playing vb but i did my best.

kageyama tobio

you cannot tell me this mf does not look like a pole vaulter. sport climbing (bouldering). these are technique/ practice driven sports that i just KNOW he would eat up.

sawamura daichi

he’s giving cheerleader because he has a loud voice and is supportive. also cycling because… well. he’s caked.

sugawara koushi

ice skating. he’s graceful and would look pretty ok? BADMINTON. it just makes sense.

tsukishima kei

ROWING. with long limbs like that he barely has to try. fencing also because he’s tall and maybe alpine skiing?

yamaguchi tadashi

skateboarding. he has the face of someone who’s willing to scrape his knees. or diving. you spend a lot of time on one skill/ technique.

bokuto koutarou

cheerleader. he’s loud, strong, and gets along with most people if he’s in a good mood. WATER POLO. he’s beefy. that is my only reason.

akaashi keiji

track and field. i could see him being a medium distance runner. baseball. he seems like he has the brain for it (i do not). ballroom dancing. that one was random but i think it works. and he’d look good in a suit.

miya atsumu

AMERICAN FOOTBALL, rugby, wrestling. literally any contact sport because you can tell he spent his whole life wrestling around with samu and his friends. & if anyone has fic recs of football or rugby player atsumu… you know where to find me.

miya osamu

yes all the sports i said for atsumu but ALSO snowboarding. i need snowboarder osamu biblically.

kita shinsuke

kyudo/ long bow archery. there’s a strict routine, it’s traditional, and he has sharp eyes idk.

suna rintaro

soccer. majority of a soccer game is defense. or swim (butterfly) since he has a flexible torso.

kuroo tetsuro

lacrosse. something about kuroo is so lax bro to me. or hip hop. he has the aura of a really chill and loose guy which, apparently, to me means they’d be good at dancing.

kozume kenna

esports (obviously).

ushijima wakatoshi

shooting. he has sharp eyes. shot put bc he has the body for it. KARATE (specifically kata). he’s built like a wall i just know he would have nice angles. (also bc he’s too proper to be a boxer.)

tendou satori

f1/ racing. according to my boyfriend it’s the one that requires the best instinct! i had no idea what to put for him!

sakusa kiyoomi

shooting since it’s a solo sport. TENNIS. you barely have to touch anything, you don’t even need a team, and he already looks like a tennis ball. and fencing because it’s a rich sport and no contact!

oikawa tooru

equestrian. if he can tame any team, then he can tame a horse. DANCE SPORT! he is so charismatic and flashy it would be perfect.

iwaizumi hajime

he also really exudes volleyball to me but i could also see him playing american football or rugby.