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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

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Papaya (c.b one-shot)

Part one here

Blurb (More BTC!) : He knew you were that out of your mind, when he pushed his way through the house, shouting “Squish? SQUISH!” Over the music as well as he could and he found you being basically fucking molested by some meathead that had a good 6 inches and 75 pounds on him. The sight made him so enraged, it made him see red so quickly, it made him black out in anger. He came to again a few moments later after he uppercut the guy so hard he fell back on his ass, and then punched him in the face so hard that his nose started bleeding. “Bear?” You said confused

“See the fucking cup, asshole?” He seethed, everyone was watching now as he dumped the remainder of your icy drink on him and crushed it before throwing it at his shocked face “ the blue cup means she’s taken”

♡ One-shot inspo: Papaya is associated with femininity & strengthening love connections. Hang twigs of papaya wood over a door to keep out evil. Eat papaya with a loved one to intensify your love. Mix papaya leaves with mandrake and burn or use in the bath to reverse hexes and jinxes. ♡ Summary: You & Carmys first time, F/U to 'Very First Time'♡ W/C: 4.7k ♡ A/N: EEEE It's here! The first was recieved so well, & my sweet @carmenberzattosgf requested a part 2 as well as this sweet anon, so I had to indulge! I hope it is everything you wanted <3 Who's ready for some sexy sexy Carmy tomorrow!? I know I am!!! I can't believe this is my last piece before the drought is over...It has gone so freaking fast!!! I can't wait to meet all the new fans that this season brings <3 :) (P.S. If you were tagged, it's BC you asked for a part 2 or are my moot!! <3) P.S - Tumblr was really trying to get me to commit murder while formatting this JFC ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUT SMUT SMUT, College relationship, childhood best friend trope, virgin!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N (r goes by childhood nickname 'squish' ), Drunk men being pervy, Physical violence, Angry Carmy

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You stumbled into the nearest vacant bathroom (with your drink in hand of course) as Miley Cyrus’ We Can’t Stop bumps through the speakers of the frat house so loudly that the floors shook.

The amount of stinky sweaty bodies and drunk people making out in various corners of the hallway would usually get to you if you weren’t so out of your mind. You weren’t exactly sure which drink you were on yet, but you did know that when your best friend Paisley had challenged you to a keg standoff and you weren’t a quitter, so you couldn’t count just how many beers you had chugged.

You tried to count on your fingers as you hovered above the nasty toilet seat to pee just exactly how many red solo cups of mostly liquor with a bit of mixer you had consumed. You were distracted by that nasty toilet seat, wondering how the boys that live here don’t gag whenever they come to pee. You were happy that Carmy wasn’t in a frat. You were really happy that Carmy wasn’t in a frat, the guys here were assholes. Most of them, anyway.

You grabbed your blue cup, that insinuated you were taken or dating someone steady, out with you back into the hot sticky living room, to hear someone (probably paisley, it had to have been paisley or one of your other sorority sisters) had requested they play Girls by The 1975, you tried finding her but got distracted by hands on your waist and “I love your shirt” in your ear. It was a voice you didn’t recognize, you could tell the man towered over you by the way he had to hunch over to talk to you.

Carmy was bigger then you, but not that much bigger, this guy would probably have a head on Carmy. He had grown just like Mike said he would, and it looked amazing on him. Funnily enough though, even though you had been dating since the week you graduated high school - and you were now juniors in college, he still hadn’t slept with you yet. You often after you left his house to head back to your sorority house since they had a curfew, would cry to your sorority about how he still only wants to do oral.

He didn’t often want blowjobs unless it was a special occasion, he would tell you your hand is fine and you don’t have to do ‘all that’ even though you wanted to- you figured since he was saying that he didn’t want you to. You weren’t aware - but Carmy was kicking himself in the ass every single day that he hasn’t fucked you the way you deserve yet. He was honestly getting worried he was going to lose you to some guy who would. You had asked him, he had told you that he wasn’t ready to go that far with you yet, that he wanted to wait and make it special.

But in all reality he was terrified out of his mind. He knew he could make you cum with his mouth, but his dick?! He had to dig his nails into his palms until they near drew blood whenever you put your fucking mouth on him, so if you let him fuck your cunt?! He was worried he was going to cum in 3 strokes and you would laugh and break up with him and tell him you were better off best friends and there goes his only friend and the love of his life and the person he wants to marry. But he found himself asking as he fantasized about marrying you how he was supposed to do that if he can’t even find the balls to fuck you right.

His anxiety was what led him to calling you 3 times tonight, because you were late - and you were never late - because the two of you wanted to spend as much time as possible together since his schedule was so packed between working at the beef and going to classes part time. He was nowhere near graduating, that was because he was stacking his money away in a savings account that gained interest like Uncle Jimmy taught him, so that his graduation present to you could be the Chicago brownstone you both had talked about having together since high school.

He found it so incredibly sexy and endearing that you put school first in your life, he wanted to reward you for it. He felt you deserved the world and more, since you were his world. Which is why, after the third nervous stuttering voicemail which is how you could tell he was really nervous, had gone unanswered? He opened the find my friends app and grabbed his brothers keys.

“Mike I’m going…out!” He called and shut the front door before he could get questions about why the hell he of all people would be leaving the house past 10:00 on a Friday night. He anxiously mapped the location on his phone and hopped in the car. When he got there, though- he couldn’t even park near the house. He had to park a block over and walk because it was so packed with cars. He made sure to lock the car in case any drunkards were to try and sleep in it or think it was there’s, and put on the walking directions.

Carmen had to deal with drunk behavior well - every night, so being with a bunch of drunk people wasn’t his favorite place to be - but for you he persevered, because what the hell were you doing here.

You, currently, were inside, grinding on the same guy that had come up to you to Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. You had finished another drink, and forgotten completely it wasn’t your boyfriend behind you - and didn’t even have the mind to ask yourself what he would be doing there. Said boyfriend was currently pushing his way through the kitchen, and rolling his eyes and the ‘single, taken, DTF’ different colored cups on the counter as he tried to find you.

He knew you were that out of your mind, when he pushed his way through the house, shouting “Squish? SQUISH!” Over the music as well as he could and he found you being basically fucking molested by some meathead that had a good 6 inches and 75 pounds on him. The sight made him so enraged, it made him see red so quickly, it made him black out in anger. He came to again a few moments later after he uppercut the guy so hard he fell back on his ass, and then punched him in the face so hard that his nose started bleeding.

“Bear?” You said confused

He grabbed your arm gently “squish y’wasted. We're going home” he said firmly but not mean, and you stumbled next to him as people move out of the way since the entire room was privy to what just happened. You weren’t sure what happened all you knew was the man was behind you and then he wasn’t and then carmy was punching him and now you were in the car and Carmy was lecturing you about how worried he was.

“He could have hurt you, angel. Please- I know it’s college and you can do what you want but I love you and those guys are all assholes, they’ll take advantage of nice girls the second they get a chance. And you’re so sweet squish, you’re too sweet. They don’t deserve to have you over” he squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips for what he knew was probably the hundredth time in the 35 minute car ride back to his house.

You didn’t say much of anything that could make sense, but he agreed with you anyway. “And theee um. The the- what was I saying?” You look over at him at a red light with a drunk smile, your eyes glazed over from all the alcohol and cheeks hot with the rush of it in your system.

“I dunno baby but you look cute” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead gently

“Your knuckles are bleeding, did you hurt them?” You asked, the events from less than an hour prior already having been wiped from your mind. He chuckled a bit, shaking his head

“M’fine squish, you need some water” he helped you out of the car, supporting most of your weight as you stumbled up the stairs of the Berzatto house, and he unlocked the door.

“Ooooo you know what I want?” You asked and he smiled as he locked the door behind him and lead you to the kitchen

“What’s that honey?” He helps you sit down at the table and grabs a glass, filling it with ice water

“I want a bear special beef sandwich. Pretty please?” He came over and handed you the glass

“Drink that and we’ll talk about it” he said and you obediently chugged down the glass as he went back to the fridge and got out the beef they didn’t use today at the restaurant and a pan to heat it in

“This is good” you said, finishing it off and crunching on a piece of ice to which he cringed

“Ugh y’teeth babe don’t do that!” He scolded as he always did when you munched on ice, taking it from you and filling it again, adding a straw before giving it back so you were less tempted to repeat your actions

He was cutting up a bell pepper for your sandwich when you asked “why won’t you have sex with me?” Which almost made him slice his finger but thankfully he missed it by a centimeter.

“Who said I won’t” he looked back at you, his cheeks a pretty shade of pink as he flushed with embarrassment.

“I dunno. You say you’re waiting but I want to and paisley says maybe you’re shy and if m’drunk maybe you’ll wanna do it more but the problem-“ you’re interrupted with a drunk hiccup “with that is, paisley said you have to be drunk too, and you aren’t.” You slurred, struggling to find your straw again to chug down the other half of your second glass of water.

He stared at you, unsure of what to say and Mikey comes pounding down the stairs per usual and into the kitchen. A bull in a fucking China shop, just like Richie. “Yooo it’s squishy! Sup girl” he came over, giving you a brotherly push to the back of the head and doing the same to Carmy as he walks by to the fridge

“Hey! You could have killed me I’m drinking!” You slurred, “but I’m asking Carmy why he won’t h-“

“Heyyyy!!! Hey hey squish no we’re not sharing those things” Carmy cuts you off quickly and looks over, shaking his head

“She’s fuckin gone” Mike said to himself as he grabbed a can of soda

“Yeah why do you think I’m fuckin having her eat and drink water?” Carmy quips, putting the beef into the bun he’d toasted and adding extra cheese for you on top how he liked it.

“Mm. Make sure you have a few vomit bags ready I think the last time she was this wasted was her birthday” he headed back up to his room and Carmy sighed to himself, knowing he was right.

“Who’s vomiting?” You asked, sipping the last few dribbles of water and he set your sandwich in front of you, taking the cup to fill again and you gasp, having forgotten you even wanted the sandwich “I was just gonna ask you to make me one too!” You said excitedly and took a big bite.

He came back to the table, setting the filled glass down and sitting in the chair next to you, gently rubbing your back “chew it baby Jesus it’s not goin anywhere” he teased and pushed your hair back over your shoulders.

“I know- it’s just so good” you mumble with your mouth full and he chuckled, shaking his head and wiping some grease that had dribbled down your chin off with the pad of his thumb, wiping it on a napkin. He didn’t know what came over him, maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t remember - maybe selfishly it was because he knew you’d be brutally honest, but he asked

“If we did have sex, and I didn’t last very long- would you be upset that you had to finish with my mouth or fingers instead?” His voice was laced with nervous curiosity, but he had to know this to be able to properly navigate having sex since you had been bringing it up more and more often as of late.

“What?! Upset? I think I’ll cry with joy that I actually can have your dick in me it doesn’t matter how long” you said casually. He wasn’t sure what it was about it, maybe it was the tone of your voice - like it’s an every day thought for you, like you were aching to have him inside of you. Yeah, that was it. The coolness mixed with desperation, it made his cock stiffen a little more than he figured it should have.

“Mm.” Was all he said, covering himself with his hand, it wasn’t like you would notice, anyway, but he was still ever so shy about you making him aroused - like he was doing something wrong. Even though you were his girlfriend of 3 years and you said I love you multiple times a day to each other.

While he was helping you shower, and then helping you dress for bed, that was when it hit him. This weekend, his mom would be out of town for some work thing he didn’t care to know the details of, and Mike goes to the casino every Friday and stays out practically until 5 am. He would have the house to himself, and it would be the perfect time to finally have sex.

He was mapping out in his mind the most romantic way to do it, flowers, candles, music? He told himself he had to do it right and make it a night to remember for the both of you. He had to cook for you - he figured he would make your favorite penne à la vodka, and he wouldn’t tell you about doing it just in case he bitches out. But the amount of thought he was putting into this, if he bitched out he was gonna be extraordinarily angry with himself.

Your voice pulled him out of his head as if always did “bear” you said sleepily

“Sup bug” he kissed your head tenderly and rubbed your arm as you nuzzled into his side.

“Can you turn the tv down m’tired” you mumble into his shirt and he took the remote, turning it off.

“Love you baby, g’night” he resumed rubbing over your hip as he got lost in his thoughts once again.

When the day came, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t bitch out. He thought about it 5 times that day and convinced himself not to, but now, now that you were sat at the table with him, a candle between you, giggling about how ‘romantic’ he had been acting tonight - he felt like a total fucking idiot.

“I’m sorry, fuck- do you not like it? I read one of sugars magazines she left behind before she moved - they said girls like candles and music” he pushed it to the side and you shook your head, moving it back

“I love it, bear. I’m just wondering why you’re treating me so special tonight is all, I’d have been a lot more dressed up and pretty if you’d have-“ he cuts you off

“You’re fuckin- y’perfect, squish. I love you, that’s why I’m doin it. I just wanna show you how much” he held your hand and squeezed it gently “you mean everything t’me. Really” he said and kissed your knuckles gently.

When you made it to his bedroom, you realized he’d hung romantic little white string lights along his headboard to provide more ambient lighting, and that’s when it clicked what was happening. Your heart raced in your chest like a hummingbird trapped in a cage as his hands roam your body.

You were sprawled out beneath him, both of you down to your underwear, the feeling of his lips nipping, and licking, and biting yours was enough to make you wet, but when his broad hands started palming your tits, his thumbs and forefingers massaging your nipples, you had to squeeze your thighs together to provide your throbbing clit some pressure. You were mewling and whining beneath him, he was panting and grunting into your mouth, your noses bumping with each unexpected kiss.

“Carmy” you whine into his mouth, reaching to pull one of your hands off of your breast and he pulled away just enough to speak, lapis eyes boring into yours that were no doubt lust blown.

“Y’good?” He asked gently, kissing the corner of your mouth chastely and eased his grip on your breasts. You moved the hand you were holding down, down, down, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your panties

“I want you to touch me here…please” you said softly and hook your arm around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his sandy blond curls as you pull him back for a kiss his breath hitched slightly at the action, his cock twitching at your words which you felt against your thigh, causing you to smile a bit. He cupped your heat with his hand for a moment, causing you to grind onto it needily and he sucked on your bottom lip as he spread your lips to slip his middle finger over your sticky soaked hole, teasing it gently before trailing it up to find the throbbing erect bud.

You gasped lightly at the contact, back arching a bit and moaning shamelessly, your voice coming out high pitched and whiny “oh yes” you said as he rubbed the pad of his finger back and forth and in circles, alternating between the two in such a way that was making your stomach tighten and thighs shiver.

“Yeah?” He kissed your jaw “feels good mm? Sound so pretty, princess” he said hotly in your ear, gently nipping at your neck in the way that drove you wild.

“So good you make me feel so good” you mewl as he moved his finger down again, thrusting it in and out as he does that beckoning motion with the finger and he gently rubbed your clit with his other hand. You sob in pleasure, fisting the sheets with one hand and tugging Carmys hair with the other.

“Good girl tha’s a good girl” his husky voice and hot breath made you shiver even though with how close your orgasm was- you felt oh so hot. You felt him lick your sternum where he had watched a bead of sweat trailing down and that caused your eyes to open once more, to see his staring back like a round eyed cat.

“M’gonna cum” you choke out, pulling the sheets harder to avoid hurting him by pulling his hair too hard. This brought a grin to his face, finding your nipple with his lips and sucking on the sensitive bud, just as he adds another finger, speeding up his beckoning motion. Your eyes nearly roll back when you felt his lips on your ear, encouraging you

“Yeah? Yeah pretty girl? Are you gonna cum f’me? Feels sooo good huh. Go ahead princess let me feel you cum on my hand I love it when y’pussy sucks in my fingers it’s so fuckin hot. Y’re so fuckin hot” your jaw fell slack in a silent scream, brows knitted together as he praised you while your orgasm came over you full force. You swore you saw stars behind your lids.

“Please please please pleaaase bear” you found yourself begging, pulling him up for a kiss and he chuckled into your lips, pulling away enough to ask,

“Please what, what baby what d’you want?” He cooed sweetly before ravishing your face with kisses which made your thumping, racing heart turn to goo

“Please fuck me. Please- oh god please I fucking need you inside your fingers aren’t enough I need to feel you.” You begged, your voice was raspy, needy, he never heard anything hotter in his life.

“Yeah?” He asked sweetly, resting his forehead on yours, nuzzling your nose in a eskimo kiss gently. “Open your eyes” he said softly and dried his hand on the sheets, pushing your sticky, sweat slick hair from your face and cupping your cheeks. Your eyes flickered open to meet his honest blue ones, blown with lust, glazed over with love. “Tell me again, I want to see you when you say it baby, so I know you want this.” He rubbed your jaw tenderly with his thumbs.

“I want you to show me how much you love me, Bear, please” you said softly and he smiled in the way that showed off his little dimples, to which you kissed it gently before he told you

“I don’t think there’s a way to show you just how much I love you, because it can’t even be described in words - but I’ll try anything f’you, squish” he kissed your forehead lovingly, lingering for a moment. Your eyes fluttered shut as you soaked in the moment, gently rubbing his back.

“I love you too, more than words” you said honestly when he pulled away, grabbing a condom from his nightstand drawer and ripping it open with his teeth, an action that had you clenching around nothing, but hopefully that would be resolved in just a moment.

“Now, if you want to stop just say the word, if you can’t find your words just like…bite me I guess” he teased and you giggled, shaking your head

“Will do” you watch as he slipped off his boxers, rolling the rubber all the way to the base, he tugged off your panties that had been soaked through, tossing them in his laundry basket since you’d need new ones after which lived in his top drawer, and got between your legs. You watch as he strokes himself a few times with his hand and you felt your throat go a bit dry. What if you were the one to ruin it all because it wouldn’t fit or something?

“You ok?” He asked gently as he caught you staring and you met his eyes again, putting on a smile and nodding, spreading your legs wider in hopes that might make more room.

“Amazing. Excited” you said, it wasn’t exactly a lie, but you left off your biggest and most present emotion nervous.

“Okay…that look says I’m worried so what’s up?” He held your hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb and looking into your eyes. It was impossible to lie when he looked at you like that, even more impossible when you were both butt naked and his dick was in his hand.

“What if it doesn’t fit?” You asked nervously. He chuckled as if he didn’t believe you, shaking his head

“I’m not that hung, babe. It’ll be fine. Do you care if I touch you?” He asked and you shook your head, swallowing thickly. He knelt on the bed with his left knee, leaning over you and nestling the tip of his cock between your folds and rubbing your wetness up and over your clit, causing a small gasp to leave your lips. He watched you carefully, for any signs of discomfort or that you were having second thoughts.

Your lips were parted and little puffs of air fan his chin, eyes hooded in pleasure and little squeaks coming out of your throat each time his tip bumped your clit firmly and the ridge of it rubbed back down to swipe over your hole and back up to repeat the assault. You could cum just like this if he did it long enough. “Feels good?” He checked, intertwining your fingers and squeezing your hand lovingly.

“Uh-huh” was all you could manage to get out and he smiled a bit, kissing your chin gently

“Want me to try being inside Angel?”

In response, a needier, whinier “uh-huh”

He looks down for a moment, grabbing his cock and lining the tip up with your entrance. “Remember what to do?” He triple checked, this time- just a quick nod. He ever so gently eased his way in, his jaw tightening at the way it made his balls feel 10 pounds heavy, his cock twitching at the foreign sensation. He grunted to cover a whine instead, and you squeezed his hand tight, looking down and watching as he slowly pushed his shaft in about a fourth of the way and stopped, looking up at you. Once more.

“How do you feel baby?” He gently rubbed your clit with his other hand, causing you to clench around him and in turn a unconscious moan tears from his throat “jeeesus fuck” he grunts, hips sinking in further in instinct and you squeak, shifting uncomfortably which made him look down and quickly pull back out to just the tip “sorry- fuck I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened are you ok?” He kissed your wrist.

“Burning. Kinda. Not a bad, it feels…kinda good? It like…it feels like a good stretch when it almost hurts. And like…full. So full, but like a good full. A fulfilled kinda full, is that weird?” You rambled on all the thoughts swimming in your brain other than ‘cock feels good’ which was the main one.

“Yeah? Feels good f’me too baby” he leaned in, kissing your lips and sinking in further, half way now. He kept kissing you, gently sucking on your tongue as you got used to the uncomfort of the stretch. “Can I try moving Angel?” He asked , almost into your mouth, you just respond with a huffy hum of agreement before pulling your lips back up to his. He very slowly at first started to thrust and had to let go of your hand to fist the pillow so he didn’t bust right then.

“Holy fuck” he pants, nuzzling his face in your neck and continuing to rub your clit as he thrusted in and out. The feeling left you breathless, wordless, thoughtless. You were on cloud nine, you could die like this. You felt that sensation of an orgasm coming in your belly again, this was the quickest he’d ever brought you to another.

“Bear-bear- I’m-“ you whine out, back arching and jaw dropping as his tip brushes your g spot and you nearly cry, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes at the intense pleasure it brought. “Cumming, cumming im cumming” you babbled, as your orgasm took over, clenching and unclenching around his cock in such a way that he literally couldn’t stop himself from spilling into the condom if he tried.

The whiny grunt he made when he came was the hottest noise you had heard to date and was nothing short of beautiful. He bit down on your neck, sucking a pretty purple bruise into the skin before burying himself to the hilt as he shoots rope after rope of seed into the condom. Your thighs tightened around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders so hard they’d leave moon shaped bruises come morning that he’d proudly walk around the house with at breakfast so Mike could finally believe that he’s not just lying about doing sexual shit with you.

You wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him there and relishing in the feeling. You felt like he was made for you, you fit together like 2 puzzle pieces. You knew he was your forever, but this solidified it even more. After he fucked you through both of your highs, he pulled out and laid next to you in a heap, panting for a few moments before he finally spoke

“Biggest mistake of my life was waiting so long to do that”

@carmenberzattosgf @daysofyellowroses @aestheticaltcow @l4long-winded @thehouseofevangelista @w31rdash @caramelberzatto @wtfsteveharrington

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urfavoritegirlkisser · 1 year ago

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"Someone Gets Hurt" - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fem!reader, jealous!reader, you and abby are like on again off again, manipulative!reader, reader is gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girl bossing, implied abby x Ellie, nothing happens with that it's mainly for the plot, girls kissing YIPEE!, pet names like baby and honey, lightly proof read

a/n: in honor of one of my favorite musicals being released in theaters, you all get a mean girls au where the reader is basically regina, abby is aaron, and ellie is cady. Highly recommend you listen to "Someone Gets Hurt" from the cast album to get the vibe.

It’s Halloween and you’re at a house party hosted by your ex, Abby Anderson.

You watch the new girl, Ellie, who you’ve taken under your wing, mainly to make sure she doesn’t stomp on the work you’ve put in to become the reigning power over the student body of your high school.

She is currently checking out Abby who is in a chugging contest with the other softball players. It makes you roll your eyes and scoff to yourself in disgust. Still, the lingering stare Ellie gives her makes you fume, so you put on your most convincing smile and walk over.

“I heard you have a crush on Abby Anderson” You say, seemingly coming from nowhere as Ellie jumps a little in fright, eyes skimming over your skimpy bunny costume.

Ellie registers what you said and curses under her breath, “Uh…yeah, I do” she stammers a little under your gaze, which boosts your ego even more.

You’ll be honest, the fact that Ellie was going after your ex girlfriend twisted the jealousy in your stomach, a deep fear of this new girl taking your place as queen bee of the school.

You decided to have some fun

“I think you guys would make the cutest couple” you say sweetly, lying through your teeth

Ellie blushes even harder as she looks over at Abby who is sitting on the couch, “Really, I mean I heard you two were a thing so if you aren’t comfortable-”

You interrupt her, “Oh it’s fine, I could even talk to her for you if you’d like?” you say as innocently as possible

“You’d do that?” she says in surprise, which makes you laugh at how gullible she is

“It’s what friends are for…right?” You say with a smile before making your way over to Abby.

You stand in front of her, “I have to talk to you” you say which finally gets her attention as she slowly trails her eyes up your body before looking into your eyes, she smirks and leans back into the couch while putting her hands behind her head.

You take a moment to appreciate her muscular arms before listening to her response.

“I thought we were done talking after you dumped me this past summer” she says with an annoyed voice which you simply chuckle at.

You sit yourself in her lap and while she seems annoyed at first, you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist, “So, I heard that the new girl Ellie has a major crush on you”

You expect her to scoff, or roll her eyes, or something to that effect. What you don’t expect is Abby smiling softly to herself as a blush spreads across her cheeks, “Really? She does?” Abby says in an almost timid voice while keeping her gaze on Ellie.

Oh hell no

Your smirk drops for a moment before you recover and decide to pull out the big guns, you make yourself tear up and sniffle a little while looking away so you can pull some convincing crocodile tears to your eyes.

Abby pulls her attention away from Ellie immediately and lifts your chin gently, “Whoa, what’s wrong?” she asks in a concerned voice

You look up at her through your lashes, really milking this, “I just didn’t think this would be so hard for me” you say through fake sobs, “Just…promise me you won’t break her heart the way you did mine” you say as you get up and start to walk away

“Wait, baby, come here” Abby says and you feel her grab your wrist gently to turn you around.

Bingo

You smirk wickedly for a moment before putting your hurt facade back up as you face her again, “I just feel like you only dated me to make yourself look good” you say while placing a hand on her chest near her heart, “I truly love you Abby, but I was so afraid you’d find someone better than me and leave”

Abby sighs and places one of her hands over yours, intertwining your fingers, “I loved you too, and still do, I could neverfind anyone that could even come close to you” she says in a soft voice that makes you smile as your plan works.

You smile coyly and brush your hand down her arm, taking in her costume before looking up at her again, “You know…I think you have got to be the hottest zombie softball player I have ever seen.”

Abby smirks down at you, “Well considering I’m the only one, I’d say I have an unfair advantage” she says while wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close

She looks over your costume and speaks in a low voice as her face gets closer to yours, her breath fanning softly over your face, “I’ve seen about five girls wearing the same as you, but none of them can even compare honey” she says and you can feel her lips almost brush against yours.

You smile and pull her in fully, your lips pressing together in a heated exchange from months worth of tension since the summer.

When you pull away and look past Abby’s shoulder, you manage to catch the smallest glimpse of Ellie running out the door, and you smile to yourself.

an: I hope you enjoyed!! This is my first time writing for Abby so hopefully it isn't terrible lol, now go drink some water you girl kissers

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #wlw fanfic #abby anderson fanfic

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toji-fushiguro-is-broke · 9 months ago

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How you met Toji

Meeting Toji

When you met Toji, you were shocked to see him being so tall and unwavering.

He had this cold aura around him as he got in the bar looking around the place, as he saw you. You looked like a person who was lost.

As you felt his cold stare you moved your head to find it and you looked at him.

When he saw you he said 'Bingo'

He approached you and asked.

"Is this seat taken?" as you shook your head he sat down beside you as he ordered something to drink.

You were dragged by your 'friends' to drink since you normally shut yourself inside your house, And you agreed because they were right, It was time to loosen up a bit even if it's just once a month.

Your 'friends' had told you they were coming in a bit late but they were going in to be there.

They weren't really your friends, they were more like colleagues at work.

You weren't the one who likes to socialize so you don't really have much that friends.

Toji started drinking while you minded your own business waiting for you friends whil scrolling through your phone.

As a message popped out of your screen that was sent by your friends.

'Hey girlie, something important came up we have to go, can we reschedule our little outing? We're really sorry.'

You sighed as you replied.

'No worries, Take care.'

You were already in the bar, waiting for them and they just cancelled.

'I knew I shouldn't have left home.'

You still sat in the bar as you tried to order something that doesn't get you drunk.

As you sighing to yourself Toji was on his 8th drink still minding his own business.

Your ordered had arrived and you proceeded to drink it slowly as you just scrolled through social media in your phone.

Time passes and you were almost done with your drink.

As you looked at the time.

"Sir, you can't order anything else without paying, giving me a credit card or sending me a wire, you haven't paid since you came in." The bartender said angrily.

You looked to them as you were interested in the conversation that was happening. The tall man beside you, only inches away reached out to his pocket, and he doesn't seem to have it.

You sighed and took your wallet out and paid for his drinks.

"It's on me." You said as he looks to you and smirks. "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome." the bartender took the money and left you two alone.

Toji had done this many times already it helps him get by.

"What ever can I do to repay you?" He jokingly says as he raises his drink as he chugs it down his throat.

You giggled, "it's totally fine."

"The name's Y/N" You introduced yourself.

"Toji." He replied as you also raised your drink as you drank your glass empty.

"Well Toji it was nice meeting you, I'll be going now." You smiled as you walked out of the bar.

Toji sat down in place. He was stunned at the fact that you didn't notice him trying to hit on you.

He sighed as his plan failed. And tried to look for another target.

#Toji #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk toji #jjk toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen toji fushiguro

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leakyweep · 11 months ago

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@quinloki says; Oh D1 please ^_^ And many congratulations \o/ 🌟🌟🌟

A/N; Thank you for the love and the request! You've always inspired me to write, so I'm happy to have you join Leaky's Bingo! I hope you enjoy this College Smoker because gods I can see it now.... ehehe

D1 - Smoker / College AU

Words; 0.5k

A bit suggestive, but as it does have themes of drinking and college partying, minors dni. You will be blocked.

You chugged, and chugged, and chugged.

Yet when you pulled the heavy glass from your view, slamming it on the table, Smoker's glass was already drained to the dregs. His cocky smile and teasing brown eyes only bothered you a little bit.

After about two more rounds of this, you were leaning against Smoker's beefy bicep and waving an invisible white flag.

"You really thought you were gonna outdrink me?" Smoker laughed, belching loudly before grabbing himself one more mug of beer, for the victory, he would argue.

"I-ouu- I need some water." Your voice was wavering, followed by your body. You could barely sit still, your head bobbing up and down from the large amount of alcohol in such a small amount of time. The room was spinning now, so you held onto Smoker's forearm to steady yourself. "Come with?"

Smoker only rolled his eyes playfully and helped you to your feet, helping you through the crowd of frat guys and sorority girls to the kitchen. Luckily, it was empty, besides some kid digging through the fridge. He was wearing an odd straw hat, but you were a bit too dizzy to focus on that right now.

The larger man propped you against the nearest sink before grabbing you a bottle of water and bringing it to your shiny, wet lips. They enticed him so. Once you were done with your water, he quickly replaced the mouth of the bottle with his own, pressing his beer-ridden lips to your own.

You were caught off guard, only for a moment, before leaning into him, pressing a hand flat to his muscled chest for stability. The way his large hand cradled your hip, pressing you closer into him with every breath and dance of your lips, it excited you and intoxicated your brain more so than the beer.

When he pulled back, a trail of drool connected the two of you as he whispered, "I think I need something stronger than this. Why don't we head back to your dorm?"

And moving ever closer, his heavy breath tickling your nose, he leaned into your ear and murmured, "I know this body of yours is more sinful than any liquor man could own."

Suddenly, his hips were pinning yours to the counter, and your breath hitched in your throat. "You don't seem like the flattering type, Smoke." A laugh escaped your chest, but it was quickly silenced by the silver-haired boy's lips on your neck. It was his turn to chuckle.

"I know exactly how to shut you right up, though." His lips moved up, up, upwards back to your lips, where they felt most at home. For months, they always preferred the embrace of a pint glass, finding solace in the golden ale; you had quickly changed those habits, pushing him to depend less on the drink to live.

Although some weekends you two would let loose and enjoy yourselves at a party, he now knew his limits, and always had you by his side when he needed a distraction- a reminder of why he did this. For himself, most of all. And for you.

#smoker x reader #smoker x you #smoker one piece #x reader #smoker #leaky's bingo #liv writes #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader

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raaorqtpbpdy · 2 years ago

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Running on Spite and Fumes by Amber McLain

Written for the Phic Phight Prompt: Wes decides to investigate one of Danny's rogues (from @bookhoard)

AO3 Link

[Warnings from past character death (Ember) and fire]

Wes was just about ready to throw in the towel. No matter how many times he said it, no matter how much evidence he provided, no one was ever going to believe that Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same. He'd been trying to show people for almost two years now with nothing at all to show for it. Maybe the time had finally come to give up the ghost and direct his efforts toward something else.

He sat behind and to the left of Danny in physics class. That half-ghost bastard was chugging ectoplasm out of a clear water bottle without a care in the world and nobody but Wes thought there was anything suspicious about that. Not long ago, Wes would have practically thrown a fit over it. Shouted, and pointed, and demanded, "Are none of you seeing this!?" but he didn't today.

Even when Danny turned around to make direct eye-contact with Wes, specifically to antagonize him, he didn't take the bait. "You know what, Fenton?" he said. "You win."

Danny blinked in surprise and put down his water bottle. "What?"

"I said, you win," Wes repeated. "Fuck you, obviously, but I give up. I'm not wasting any more of my time. My reputation has taken enough of a hit already. I'm moving on to newer, better things."

Danny scoffed and leaned on his hand, shooting Wes a mildly amused and thoroughly unconvinced look. "Like what?"

"Like, you know," Wes hadn't really thought about it yet, but he'd be damned if he was about to admit it to Danny. "Ghosts that are actually cool!" he spat. "Like Ember! Phantom is old news. I'm gonna figure out who she is, or—was."

"Right, sure you are," Danny rolled his eyes and turned to face the front of the classroom again, grumbling, "Good luck with that," under his breath.

Wes scowled. He'd just made that up on the spot because he hadn't wanted to admit to Danny, of all people, that he didn't actually have a plan, but now he really was gonna do it. How hard could it be to figure out who a ghost was before they died, anyway?

As it turned out, the answer to that question was 'really fucking hard.' Wes had basically nothing to go on except her song. He ran his personal recording—yes he had a copy of it. Mind control aside, it was a good song!—through every music identification app and program he could find and came up with zip. Either she'd written that song after she died, or she was one of those ghosts that formed in the Ghost Zone and only seemed like a normal ghost, or she was such an obscure indie artist when she was alive that no one... remembered her.... Oh.

That would explain her obsession. Ghosts often became obsessed in death with things they wanted or fantasized about when they were alive, but never got. Finally, Wes had a thread to pull on. He went online, surfing indie music forums, the more obscure the better. He posted the same message in tons of different places.

Does anyone recognize this artist? Her name is Ember McLain, but I can't can't find anything about her anywhere! <remember_ember.mp3>

Usually it was buried right away. No one recognized the song, or no one cared. Several times he got made fun of for having to ask who an artist was, even though no one else on the forums knew her either. It was a few days before he got an actual worthwhile response, but he did get one, which broke the case wide open.

Could you mean *Amber* McLain? The music sounds similar to hers, but I guess she's pronouncing her name weird to make the rhyme work.

She's from my hometown, and I saw her perform a couple small gigs at local clubs and stuff, but don't expect her to drop any new singles any time soon. She died like eight years ago.

Bingo. That was definitely something Wes could work with.

It might be. What town? Do you happen to have any more of her music?

The response came several minutes later.

Milton, Washington. And it took me a while to find the songs, but yeah. She only had the one album, 5 songs on it, and she wasn't bad, so I bought it at one of her shows. <running_on_spite_and_fumes.mp3> <homegrown_arson.mp3> <the_curse_of_adolescence.mp3> <feather_heavy.mp3> <daddy_never_loved_you.mp3>

Wes started downloading the files before he responded.

How'd she die?

This time the answer came right away.

Mid-show, the venue caught fire.

One of the amps blew and everything went up in flames. The back door was blocked, I guess, and she was trapped on stage, never made it out. Like six or seven people died in that fire, it was a big deal for a while.

Burned to death in a concert venue, huh? Wes considered Ember, her flaming hair, the way she was dressed, the spectral guitar she could summon and dismiss at will. That would totally make sense.

Once the music downloaded, he listened to the first song. The lyrics weren't nearly as self-absorbed as "Remember Ember", but the sound was the same. It was distinctly her music, her voice, her playing guitar. It was her sound, from before she'd died. Wes could hear her inhaling at the end of a lyric, could hear her voice catch the way a ghost's voice couldn't.

This is her! Thanks so much for helping me find her! Sucks to hear she died, but at least I could hear a little more of her music.

This had been the breakthrough Wes needed.

Yeah, no problem man! Thanks for reminding me about her. The new song is a bop!

Grinning triumphantly, he printed out that forum exchange for his evidence folder. He knew who she was now. All he had to do was find some more evidence of her life. It wouldn't be all that easy to do when all of that evidence was in a small town in Washington state she'd never made it out of, but Wes was never one to shy away from a challenge.

Ember would probably be happy to hear that she did have at least one fan when she was alive. Not to mention, Wes would make an absolute killing burning CDs with all of Ember's songs from before she died and selling them at school. He finished downloading the files and burned one CD for his folder right away.

The next order of business would be scouring newspapers for articles about her. No matter how obscure the musician was, dying in the middle of a performance when the venue burned down was all but guaranteed to make the news, at least regionally. It took weeks to find even a single article, but eventually he tracked one down.

Six die in tragic bar fire in Milton.

The article contained details about the fire, the bar, the cause, and the victims, including photos of them. One of them, the performing musician, Amber McLain was the spitting image of Ember, stage makeup and all, even the guitar she was pictured with was exactly the same as Ember's.

He'd found her.

He'd really, truly found her.

Wes printed out the article. After a little more digging on the bar that had burned down, he also found a scan of a promotional poster for Ember's show that night, and he printed that out too. He slipped those, along with the CD he'd burned, and the printed out forum exchange, into a folder to bring to school.

"Guess what, Fenton, you asshole? I fucking did it!" Wes hollered when Danny walked into physics class.

"Did what?" Danny asked with a scoff. "If this is about proving I'm Phantom, I thought you said you gave that up."

"We both know you're Phantom, and I did give up proving it, but this isn't about that." Wes slapped the folder down on top of Danny's desk and dug his portable CD player out of his backpack. "Read it and weep, fucker. Not only did I figure out who Ember was before she died, I also got my hands on all five tracks of the only album she released while she was still alive." He put the CD into the player and turned it on.

The opening riff of "Running on Spite and Fumes" started playing from the portable player's single, shitty speaker, but the moment she started to sing, Ember's voice, or rather, Amber's voice was unmistakable.

"Holy shit, you actually did it," Danny said under his breath, looking down at the contents of the folder, his expression a mix of awe and horror.

"Is that a new Ember song?" asked Star from the front row.

"Actually, it's an old Ember song," Wes responded smugly. "I tracked down her real identity and got my hands on everything she released before she died. I'm gonna burn more copies later and sell 'em around school."

"Wes, can I talk to you?" Danny said. Snapping the folder closed, he grabbed the basketball player by the shirt and dragged him out of the classroom by force. "You can't do this."

"What? What do you mean?" Wes demanded, shoving Danny's hands off him.

"If Ember finds out you learned who she was in life and exposed her, she'll kill you," he said, waving the folder emphatically in front of him. "Bringing up a ghost's life or death is one of the biggest taboos in ghost culture. She won't just haunt you, she'll straight up murder you. Until you die."

"Oh, please." Wes crossed his arms. In all the time he'd spent trying to expose Danny as Phantom, Wes had studied up on ghosts and ghost culture quite intensely. He hardly considered himself an expert, but quite frankly, his knowledge was on par with some of the leaders in the field of ectology. "Her popularity will skyrocket once her old songs start circulating. Personal obsession trumps cultural taboo every time, we both know that."

"Not during the Truce," Danny refuted.

"Well, yes, obviously the Truce is an exception; it's the Truce," Wes said. "And I'm not so insensitive that I'm gonna tell everyone in school how she died, I just wanted to rub it in specifically your face that I figured it out, seeing as how you doubted me a few weeks ago." Danny narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Wes.

"You'd better not tell everyone," he said, but he took a step back. "And if you do, you don't get to implicate me in any of this, got it? I won't have her after me again now that we're not at each other's throats anymore." He shoved the folder to Wes' chest.

"Yeah, whatever." With that the two of them went back into the classroom, where pretty much everyone was listening intently to the tinny music still playing. Wes discreetly slipped his evidence folder into his backpack before anyone else could ask about it, and wrote down the names of people who came by his desk to tell him they wanted to buy a CD once he had them.

The next day, Wes started selling copies of the CD for ten bucks a pop. Within a week, he had enough money to buy himself a brand new camera to replace the one Danny had destroyed a few months back. He turned out to be right about Ember being cool with him selling her old songs, though she demanded he give her a copy. She was even a little nostalgic listening to them, and she almost cried when Wes told her he'd gotten them from an old fan of hers.

It got Wes thinking about what other ghosts might feel if he reminded them of their past. The next on his list, he decided, was the Box Ghost. Why him? Frankly, Wes just wanted to know what that guy's deal was.

#phic phight #phic phight 2023 #fic #things i wrote #ember mclain #wes weston #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp

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cyarsk52-20 · 1 year ago

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Rollingstone LogoClick to expand the Mega Menu

MUSIC

The 50 Best Weeknd Songs

From dark alt-R&B jams to sleek summer hits to synth-pop revelations, and beyond

TOMÁS MIER, WAISS ARAMESH, JULYSSA LOPEZ, CHARLES AARON, ANGIE MARTOCCIO, ELIAS LEIGHT, JON FREEMAN, MOSI REEVES, JON BLISTEIN, SARAH GRANT, JOE GROSS, SIMON VOZICK-LEVINSON, JON DOLAN, KORY GROW

FEBRUARY 14, 2022

IF YOU HAD “Siouxsie and the Banshees fan from Canada remakes R&B in his own image” on your Pop Music in the 2010s bingo card, congratulations! Abel Tesfaye came out of Toronto in 2011 with a stunning series of spacey, sepulchral EPs that proved the start of a landmark run. Pretty soon he was lacing summer hits, sharing tracks with Ariana and Lana, creating epic albums like After Hoursand this year’s excellent Dawn FM, and even playing the Super Bowl. To coincide with the release of his new Amazon special, The Weeknd x The Dawn FM Experience (available this Saturday), we’ve decided to honor the Weeknd’s decade of moody pop dominance, with our list of his 50 greatest songs. You’ve earned it!

‘Less Than Zero’ (2022)

KEVIN C. COX/GETTY IMAGES

‘Can we meet in the middle,” the Weeknd offers over the elegant romanticism of “Less Than Zero.” His despair has rarely sounded so vulnerable, and his need to connect has rarely seemed so genuine, as he reaches out further and further with each new ascending keyboard bloop. The result might be his greatest slow-dance entreaty. —J.D.

‘The Party & the After Party’ (2011)

FRAZER HARRISON/GETTY IMAGES

“The Party and the After Party” not only has a chipmunk sample of dream-pop duo Beach House’s “Master of None” at its center, but also a waltz-like rhythm reminiscent of the Velvet Underground’s “All Tomorrow’s Parties.” The Weeknd’s lyrics betray an impressive attention to detail. “Louis V bag, tats on your arms, high heel shoes make you six feet tall,” he croons. “But I’ve got what you need.” Midway through, the track switches to a highly sexual volley of vocal thrusts and flickering guitar, as he tries to illustrate “the feeling that I’ll give to you.” —M.R.

‘Save Your Tears,’ feat. Ariana Grande (2021)

YOUTUBE

Just when you think the Weeknd has finally released a vacuous little earworm of a pop song, he twists the knife. “I saw you dancing in a crowded room/You look so happy when I’m not with you,” he sings. It would be like if you took “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” and replaced Mickey Thomas with Sade. This love-forsaken-at-the-club song wouldn’t be anything without Grande. Together, their voices are indestructible, which makes this particular song all the more harrowing. —S.G.

‘Life of the Party’ (2011)

GUS STEWART/REDFERNS/GETTY IMAGES

Coming on like Smokey Robinson at a black mass, Tesfaye crooks a finger, howls into the death-rock void, and cues the riding-crop percussion. Is this just another dubiously consensual orgy between a rich, coked-out female fan and some fame-adjacent, coked-out music bros? Or does the woman actually represent Tesfaye’s conflicted feelings about his own career choices? Regardless, be careful out there, kids. —C.A.

‘Tears in the Rain’ (2013)

JEFF LOMBARDO/GETTY IMAGES

The Weeknd’s R&B plot twist is that his falsetto croon, cunning production, and vulnerable charisma offer a tender caress until you find out that love is really a serial killer hiding in the closet. Inspired by the replicant Roy Batta’s dying monologue in Blade Runner, this gorgeous ballad is a spectacular bell tower of distorted guitar and rippling synths that gives you goose bumps. Too bad you’re lying next to the toilet. —C.A.

‘The Fall’ (2011)

VINCE TALOTTA/TORONTO STAR/GETTY IMAGES

The foggy darkness of “The Fall” is a vintage remnant of the Weeknd’s bleakest, most sedated soundscapes. A chugging beat and ominous, choir-like vocals nearly drown him out, but his slightly moribund voice continues with the steely resolve of someone who intimately knows rock bottom. And though the production comes from his early-aughts mixtape era, it’s also ahead of its time, feeling like something that could easily soundtrack a depressing episode of Euphoria. —J.L.

‘Privilege’ (2018)

IRVIN OLIVARES/RCC/AGENCIA EL UNIVERSAL/GDA/AP

On this theatrical text to an ex, the Weeknd tries acceptance! Co-producer Frank Dukes suspends the mournful inamorato amid a swell of supportively filtered keys, and Tesfaye counsels himself to move on. But a fingersnap beat enters and he instinctively reaches for his old woes. Synths encase everything, his multitracked wail fades to vocoded static, and it’s clear: litigating sin is his one forever love. —C.A.

‘I Was Never There,’ feat. Gesaffelstein (2018)

KEVIN WINTER/GETTY IMAGES

It’s appropriate that the Weeknd at his most publicly distraught — after breakups with tabloid damsels Selena Gomez and Bella Hadid — would be soundtracked by elegant techno brutalist Mike “Gesaffelstein” Lévy. Hello, stylish dystopia. A piercing synth siren swoons and keens above clacking desolation; when the beat later brightens to a warped gurgle, Tesfaye turns spiteful, suicidal. Call it his safe space. —C.A.

‘La Fama,’ Rosalía feat. the Weeknd (2022)

YOUTUBE

Call him “El Fin de Semana.” The singer takes a complete turn from his typical R&B style as he joins Rosalía on the electro-bachata track about the downsides of fame. The Weeknd sings in perfect Spanish as his vocals channel the likes of bachata legend Romeo Santos. —T.M.

‘Heartless’ (2020)

YOUTUBE

This first single from the 2020 album After Hours finds our hero self-consciously returning to his baller ways, grabbing some of his pals (co-writers Metro Boomin, Illangelo, and Dre Moon), loading up on subdermal bass and trappin’ hi-hats and heading out for a night of licking toads, getting ladies high, and spilling whiskey on himself. Once again, he’s in full players-playing mode and he doesn’t make it sound very fun at all. —J.G.

The Best Compact Sound Bars to Upgrade Your Home Theater System

Presented By RS Recommends

Upgrading from your TV speakers to a sound bar doesn't have to take up a lot of space. We review three of the best ones to pick up.

‘In Your Eyes’ (2020)

KEVIN MAZUR/MTV VMAS 2020/GETTY IMAGES

“I know it hurts to smile, but you try to,” Tesfaye croons to his dirty Diana through the smoky air. Can’t you feel the weight of his stare? “In Your Eyes” has such a suave Eighties groove, it takes real concentration to appreciate its manifold layers. Tesfaye mined late New Wave bands like Roxy Music, A-Ha, and Cocteau Twins for the song’s backbone, let Max Martin do his pop wizardry, and let the sax rip. —S.G.

RS Recommends: The Best Bluetooth Speakers is Under $200

Presented By RS Recommends

We review the best portable speakers under $200, from Marshall to Bose, that wirelessly pair with Bluetooth to stream music and more.

‘Adaptation’ (2013)

JOHNNY NUNEZ/WIREIMAGE

“Adaptation” is Kiss Land‘s most direct tour-life lament, essentially Massive Attack featuring the Weeknd, slightly pitch-shifted. Over a breakbeat loop, an eerie echo chamber, and a gnarled, ghostly sample of the Police’s “Bring on the Night,” Tesfaye explores his vocal range and imagines tipsy young models as vessels of pure, uncut love. It all sounds exquisite, but his regret is a false confession. —C.A.

What's the Difference Between N95 Masks and KN95 Masks?

Presented By RS Recommends

We review N95 and KN95 masks, which doctors say are the best face masks for Covid. But which is better? And where can you find them in stock?

‘The Birds Pt. 2’ (2011)

GUS STEWART/REDFERNS/GETTY IMAGES

On the Weeknd’s most intense recorded reckoning, our unreliable narrator delivers a harrowing moral: Don’t fall for self-obsessed, predatory fiends (like me) or somebody will suffer. Forever. Producers Illangelo and Doc McKinney underscore the point — sobs and a gunshot bleed into reverbed whirlpools of decaying surf guitar, an unforgiving snare thud, and Marina Topley-Bird croaking “sandpaper kisses, paper-cut bliss” like Madame Lamort. Then the crows caw a bitter adieu. —C.A.

‘Pretty’ (2013)

YOUTUBE

One of the Weeknd’s cooler, earlier tricks is the goth level of melodrama with which he infused his work. “Pretty,” from his debut full-length, Kiss Land, takes an industrial level of synth dread and drum clatter and sets it to the time-honored tale of the road dog coming home to his partner, who may or may not have cheated. Conclusion: He’ll make you feel beautiful if only because it helps him keep the demons at bay. —J.G.

‘In the Night’ (2015)

THOMAS CONCORDIA/FILMMAGIC

The first song co-written with pop magus Max Martin, “In the Night” conjures an Eighties neon raincloud with a whoosh of drum pads, pulsing synths, clattering effects, and Visionquest pathos. Principally, it coaxes Tesfaye’s most openhearted vocal to date. His taut yet fluid phrasing (a nod to Thriller-era Michael Jackson) delivers the story of an abused sex worker with an unusually sincere ache. —C.A.

The Best Wireless Headphones for Audiophiles

Presented By RS Recommends

We review the best wireless headphones based on sound quality, connectivity, battery life and comfort. Here are four to buy online.

‘Prisoner,’ feat. Lana Del Rey (2015)

CHELSEA LAUREN/WIREIMAGE

This criminally underrated duet is a true relic of the fleeting 50 Shades of Grey-era of 2010s gloom pop, sung and co-written by the genre’s foremost falsettos: the Weeknd and Lana Del Rey. “I’ve inspired her, she’s inspired me,” Tesfaye said at the time. “I feel like we’ve always been talking to each other through our music.” Together for the first time, they sing “I’m addicted to a life that’s empty and cold,” like two dark souls twisting in the wind. —S.G.

‘Crew Love,’ Drake feat. the Weeknd (2012)

IAN WEST/PA WIRE/AP

The remarkable opening of “Crew Love” is a true test for the Weeknd, pitting the singer’s siren call against a callous, punishing opponent — a mash of crashing cymbals that seems intent on crushing the life out of anything in its path. But the Weeknd’s sweet croon partially camouflages his own militance. His opening line is every bit as cruel and cutting as those cymbals: “Take your nose off my keyboard/What you bothering me for?” And once the Weeknd puts his enemies on their heels, he presses his attack. “This ain’t no fuckin’ singalong,” he snarls prettily. “So, girl, what you singing for?” —E.L.

‘Coming Down’ (2011)

TIMOTHY HIATT/WIREIMAGE

Emerging from the dusted carnage of “The Party & the Afterparty,” this might be Tesfaye’s most emotionally resonant performance. A cold wind blows past a twinkly, taunting mini-motif as various intoxicating agents exit his system. Racked with regret, he convincingly plays the fallen prince; his ah-ahs, la-la-las, and refrain of “I always want you when I’m coming down” are acutely relatable. —C.A.

‘Often’ (2015)

YOUTUBE

Over a tear-jerking sample of “Ben Sana Vurgunum,” by Turkish singer Nükhet Duru, the Weeknd boasts about the sexual freedom he gets by being a “young god” in his hometown of Toronto. “She asked me if I do this every day, I said often,” he sings on the chorus. The alt-R&B song gave fans their first taste of the leap forward he was making with Beauty Behind the Madness. —T.M.

‘Acquainted’ (2015)

PETER DEJONG/AP

Oh, the humanity? ? On this neoclassic Weeknd tale of compulsive wanderlust, boosted by Illangelo’s crisply cavernous, dubstep-tinged production, Tesfaye coos (and even cries out) with new vulnerability about whether a commitment to “real” love/life might be a risk worth taking. Answer: No, “but, girl, I’m so glad we’re acquainted.” —C.A.

‘Wanderlust’ (2013)

OWEN SWEENEY/INVISION/AP

“Wanderlust” hinted at the brightly uptempo, Eighties-inspired pop that eventually launched the Weeknd to superstardom. Produced with help from DannyBoyStyles and DaHeala, it makes fanciful use of Dutch group Fox the Fox’s 1984 synth-pop hit “Precious Little Diamond,” as the Weeknd depicts a La Dolce Vita life that’s full of thrills and short on love and commitment. It’s a metaphor for the first rush of success, and a predictor of bigger fame to come. —M.R.

‘Love Me Harder,’ Ariana Grande feat. the Weeknd (2014)

When Republic Records introduced its hot new R&B act to the world, it used an old-fashioned tactic (Trojan Horse) the new-fashioned way: an Ariana Grande song. Produced by Max Martin, “Love Me Harder” is a coy, synth-driven jam about the joys of rough sex. What takes it to that next level is the indelible way Grande’s sumptuous vocals ricochet off of the Weeknd’s icy falsetto. Two great artists in their own right. But like Pat and Neil, these two just belong together. —S.G.

‘Loft Music’ (2011)

CHRISTIE GOODWIN/REDFERNS/GETTY IMAGES

“Loft Music” is one of Abel Tesfaye’s quintessential baby-making moments and a standout from his debut mixtape, House of Balloons. During the chorusless first half of the track, the Weeknd convinces a woman that “baby, it’s OK” for them to hook up, while the second half features a haunting, three-minute outro. —T.M.

‘Kiss Land’ (2013)

ARTHUR MOLA/INVISION/AP

Perhaps the Weeknd was worried his major-label debut wouldn’t be perceived as authentically malevolent. The title track settles that — a disorienting din of post-industrial drone and moan, plus oral-sex quips and a witchy brew of booze, blow, and pills. Cloudrap producer Silky Johnson sustains a K-hole of suspense so when Tesfaye cries, “Goddamn, I’m high,” it’s actually startling. —C.A.

‘King of the Fall’ (2014)

YOUTUBE

Released as a Soundcloud track and a YouTube video in commemoration of his 2014 “King of the Fall” Tour, this is a fan favorite that didn’t get added to streaming services until nearly six years later. It finds the Weeknd at his most insouciantly boastful: “’Bout to leave the crib with a couple of my pirates/Driving by the streets we used to walk through like a triumph,” he sings. Produced with help from Jason “DaHeala” Quenneville, “King of the Fall” has a thrilling, uncompromising edge. When he says, “If you ain’t with me, motherfucker, you against me,” you can feel the tension in his words. “Ain’t nobody can stop me.” —M.R.

‘What You Need’ (2011)

JOHNNY LOUIS/GETTY IMAGES

The Weeknd has said that “What You Need” is nothing more than a “sexy R&B song,” but that explanation underplays the kind of emotional power he conjures here. It opens with a loop from Aaliyah’s “Rock the Boat,” and centers on a raw and direct entreaty shorn of contemporary R&B gloss. When critics and fans refer to the Weeknd as a generational artist, particularly in his early years, it’s due to seductive performances like this. —M.R.

‘Try Me’ (2018)

MAHMOUD KHALED/AP

The Weeknd sounds alluring on “Try Me,” a highlight from 2018’s My Dear Melancholy. The EP swirls with romantic anguish and the singer’s high-profile breakups; “Try Me,” where he pleads for an ex-girlfriend to come back to him in haunting, gauzy tones, is no different. Some listeners speculated that this was his attempt to recapture his House of Balloons-era bona fides after the world conquering Starboy. But when he sings lyrics like “Once you put your pride aside, you know where to find me,” he sounds sincere. —M.R.

‘Moth to a Flame,’ Swedish House Mafia and the Weeknd (2022)

YOUTUBE

“Moth to a Flame” is a petty anthem, masking the bitterness with synth, and marks the Weeknd’s first (of hopefully many) collaboration with Swedish House Mafia. Abel’s vocals shine through a biting chorus that effectively ruins the current relationship of his ex. It should come as no surprise that a list of the Weeknd’s best songs doubles as a masterclass in toxicity. —W.A.

‘Snowchild’ (2020)

YOUTUBE

On a trap-chic stroll through the Weeknd’s hipster rags-to-branded-riches story (Morayama, Coachella, and Mercedes are name-checked), Starboy relies on the lovely lilt of his voice to redeem pop-rap groaners like “futuristic sex, give her Philip K. Dick.” And it does, buoyed by a suave whoosh here and chilly wobble there. —C.A.

‘The Morning’ (2011)

ROBB D. COHEN/INVISION/AP

Though the first drowsy lines of “The Morning” masquerade as expected Weeknd club sleaze, the song is a surprisingly radiant hustler’s anthem, catching him at an upbeat moment before the blowback from his late-night debauchery sets in. The electric squeals of a guitar follow him as he builds toward a bursting chorus — and once the peak hits, he sings with the carefree indulgence of someone throwing confetti made of dollar bills into the air. —J.L.

‘Shameless’ (2015)

JOHN SALANGSANG/INVISION/AP

Compared to the slick dance pop found elsewhere on Beauty Behind the Madness,“Shameless” is an outlier. A stripped-down acoustic ballad that has shades of peak-period Seal, “Shameless” is a triumph of cringe for the Weeknd. “I’ll always be there for you girl, I have no shame,” he swears to a sometime lover who doesn’t want anything from him except the oblivion of a good lay. It’s icky, and the slippery, pornographic guitar solo at the end only adds to the feeling of self-loathing sleaze. —J.F.

‘After Hours’ (2020)

YOUTUBE

If there’s a song that captures the Weeknd’s determined progression from brooding club lurker to incandescent pop king, it’s “After Hours,” which starts with echoey synth acrobatics from his early releases. A dance beat trickles in slowly — just hints of it at first — and eventually takes over, thrusting the Weeknd closer to the melodic maximalism that swept him up and blasted him to superstardom. —J.L.

‘How Do I Make You Love Me?’ (2022)

RICH FURY/GETTY IMAGES

It takes a lot of skill to make desperation sound catchy, but the Weeknd barely bats an eye as he combines iridescent synth-pop with his urgent, pleading falsetto on “How Do I Make You Love Me.” Just when it seems like he’s reached a breaking point, the song becomes a freeform experiment in electro blips and bleeps that seamlessly transitions into “Take My Breath,” highlighting the tightknit sonic universe of Dawn FM. —J.L.

‘Hardest to Love’ (2020)

CHRIS O'MEARA/AP

There’s something singular about “Hardest to Love,” its drum and bass break beat setting it apart from nearly everything else in the Weeknd’s catalog, to say nothing of the North American pop charts (it would obviously feel less out of place in the U.K.). Yet the song doesn’t feel like some tossed off genre experiment or blatant play for a new audience. It remains a quintessential Weeknd tune, that distinct drum and bass groove paired perfectly with woozy, weeping-willow synths and Tesfaye’s heart-melting, self-flagellating vocals. —J.B.

…

‘Reminder’ (2016)

YOUTUBE

A response to those criticizing his pivot to a mainstream sound after Beauty Behind the Madness, The Weeknd returns to his vibey, R&B origins, promising he’ll reinvent himself as many times as he wants to. And boy, has he succeeded at it. T.M.

‘Call Out My Name’ (2018)

YOUTUBE

After “Earned It” became a massive commercial success, it’s no surprise that the Weeknd returned to the same well a few years later — “Call Out My Name” is another slow-drip ballad set in 6/8 time. But where “Earned It” had those peppy strings and uplifting message (“Girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it”), “Call Out My Name” is desolate and hollowed out, a parched tale of dependency and despair shot through with the Weeknd’s piercing, anguished wails. “I said I didn’t feel nothing baby,” he sings. “But I lied.” —E.L.

‘Sidewalks,’ feat. Kendrick Lamar (2016)

YOUTUBE

“Sidewalks” finds the Weeknd wryly recounting his ascent from growing up without a father and experiencing homelessness to the pop mainstream. “My flow too sick, Kevin Costner couldn’t touch me,” he trills in an Auto-Tuned voice over a guitar-inflected Doc McKinney beat. Meanwhile, Kendrick Lamar responds with a bouncy verse that flips Starboy’s theme about prodigious appetites. “It wasn’t just a random Kendrick Lamar verse,” the Weeknd told Beats 1’s Zane Lowe in 2016. “It was something special.” —M.R.

‘Tell Your Friends’ (2015)

YOUTUBE

This track was originally co-produced by Mike Dean and intended for Kanye West, who co-produces and raps on the bridge here. Framed by a coolly twilit soul sample, Tesfaye croons a list of basic starboy gripes. but quickly the lyrics grow belligerent, as stabbing piano chords propel an antihero eruption. “Don’t believe the rumors, bitch, I’m still a user,” he smirks, as if he’s pimp-strutting on the ledge. —C.A.

‘House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls’ (2011)

FILMMAGIC

The second half of this track is one of the most viscerally affecting entries in the Weeknd’s whole catalog, as icy and thunderous as an avalanche. He throws himself into the world beyond blotto: Faces are blurring, the drunks are getting mean, and the threat of violence fills the air. The Weeknd’s voice has always drawn comparisons to Michael Jackson’s, but “Glass Table Girls” draws its lineage back to Prince at his most paranoidly perfect. —E.L.

‘I Feel It Coming,’ feat. Daft Punk (2016)

YOUTUBE

The stunning closer from Starboy, the Weeknd’s Michael Jacksonesque voice flows freely over Daft Punk’s retro-futuristic, Eighties-inspired disco-pop production. Lyrically, the Weeknd sheds his lustful approach to sex as he assures the object of his desire that she shouldn’t be so afraid of falling in love. —T.M.

‘Starboy,’ feat. Daft Punk (2016)

YOUTUBE

After the world-conquering success of Beauty Behind the Madness, the Weeknd could have worked with anyone. He chose Daft Punk’s Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo, who lent an attractive electro gloss to his next chart-topping smash, French-filtering his vocals on the hook as he literally laughed his way to the bank. With its winking lyrics about old Star Trek movies and ivory lines on ebony tables, “Starboy” was also the Weeknd’s chance to show that pop stardom hadn’t changed him — it just made him even cockier. —S.V.L.

‘Take My Breath’ (2022)

YOUTUBE

It figures that one of the Weeknd’s most straightforwardly danceable songs would be about a kink so intense that it can literally cause death. Propelled by the titanic melody of Max Martin and collaborators Belly, Andrea Di Ceglie, Luigi Tutolo, and Oscar Holter, “Take My Breath” throbs with the insistent kick drum, funky guitar, and arpeggiated synths of classic Giorgio Moroder. Tesfaye coos soulfully, deploying his upper register while describing a woman who asks to indulge a fantasy that sounds a lot like erotic asphyxiation. “Bring me close to heaven, babe,” she tells him. The extended version on Dawn FM features an instrumental breakdown that shreds Tesfaye’s voice into a guttural wail, further blurring the line between ecstasy and horror. —J.F.

‘Earned It (Fifty Shades of Grey)’ (2015)

YOUTUBE

Wherein the most sexually explicit songwriter of the PornHub era makes the lead single for the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack. “Earned It” (and a very-NSFW video) introduced perfectly Tesfaye’s silk-sheets vibe to mainstream ears. Written in D-minor, which, as Spinal Tap taught us, is the “saddest key,” “Earned It” is a Grammy-winning chart-topper full of strings severe and seductive, that falsetto and, of course, a love too weird to last. —J.G.

‘High for This’ (2011)

JOHN SALANGSANG/INVISION/AP

“You want to be high for this,” trills the Weeknd on the opening track of his first, career-launching House of Balloons mixtape. It’s a perfect introduction to the Weeknd’s groundbreaking aesthetic: an opiate atmosphere, a sound that hovers between darkwave and bedroom R&B, and endless sensorial delights. Cirkut’s beat is a synthesized whirl of throbbing, stop-start percussion and eerie, organ-like keys, all fodder for the Weeknd to red-pill his listeners: “Open your hand/Take a glass/Don’t be scared/I’m right here.” —M.R.

‘Can’t Feel My Face’ (2015)

YOUTUBE

One of the Weeknd’s biggest hits was a dashed-off afterthought. Tesfaye was hanging out with some of his songwriting collaborators, listening to “some modern, disco-y influenced tracks,” as he once said, when they all felt the urge the jam. The whole song — three and a half minutes of R&B-inflected pop with a bouncy, beautifully numbing chorus that may or may not be about cocaine — came together in 40 minutes at the end of Tesfaye’s Beauty Behind the Madness sessions and almost didn’t make the cut. But Tesfaye believed in the song, which became a Number One hit and has since been certified eight-times platinum. —K.G.

‘Blinding Lights’ (2019)

YOUTUBE

No pop sound is too dated for the Weeknd to have some fun with: As long as it’s got a little sparkle, he’ll find a way to use it. “Blinding Lights” broke chart records by leaning all the way into a synth-pop jingle that sounds like a Eurovision contender or a mid-2000s ringtone, singing the hell out of each hook in a vaguely Goth accent and daring you to call him cheugy. It’s so spectacularly catchy, you’ll never get the chance. —S.V.L.

‘Wicked Games’ (2011)

YOUTUBE

The Weeknd’s first single is a sensual, slow-grooving meditation on coming of age — feeling comfortable in your own skin and grappling with differences between love and lust, but “only for tonight.” In the space of five and a half minutes, Tesfaye tells a movie-length story: He’s just broken up with his girl, he took out all his cash and spent it on coke and his date, and he just wants to feel like a human being. “Bring your love, baby, I could bring my shame,” he sings. “Bring the drugs, baby, I could bring my pain, I got my heart right here.” It’s heavy stuff for a pop song, and it established him as an artist who could tackle Big Problems in a way that makes you want to sing along with him. —K.G.

‘Escape From LA’ (2020)

KEVIN MAZUR/MTV VMAS 2020/GETTY IMAGES

Nine years after the Weeknd declared “Cali is the mission” on “The Morning,” he backtracks on this cautionary tale, revisiting a theme that’s prevalent throughout his discography: an obsession over the Hollywood lifestyle that’s just as strong as his contempt for it. Four minutes in, the vibe switches (getting somehow darker) and the Weeknd tells the tale of a Chrome Hearts-clad woman who waits for him to cut his verse before moving on to … other activities. Considering how good this song turned out, we appreciate her patience. —W.A.

‘Gasoline’ (2022)

YOUTUBE

Tesfaye has always been great at packaging pop thrills in deep despair (and vice versa). The nihilistic despair of this Dawn FM gem is neatly tucked away in the song’s gasoline-soaked sheen. Even its darkest lines — from “I know you won’t let me OD” to “In this game called life/We are not free” — are barely detectable in the midst of all that New Wave euphoria, like the Weeknd had too much fun getting high to the Cars. Please cover “Drive” next. —A.M.

‘The Hills’ (2015)

YOUTUBE

A sound-design masterpiece and the quintessential Weeknd hit, with all the pop instincts of his crossover blockbuster era and all the sleaze and self-loathing of his avant-R&B early years. “The Hills” mesmerizes and rebukes like a MIDI-enabled version of Francisco Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son.Tesfaye limps through fame’s panopticon before launching into a falsetto war of the spirit (“When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me,” he wails). Somehow, this meticulous smear of muted screams, tolling bells, growly sub-bass, and filtered-to-hell synths reached No. 1 and was eventually certified diamond (10 million copies sold). —C.A.

IN THIS ARTICLE:

The Weeknd,

Weeknd

MUSIC

MUSIC LISTS

Sent from my iPhone

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epigstolary · 2 years ago

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The Makings of a Glutton

They say that you are what you eat. And since there’s obviously a lot of you… it’s pretty clear what you eat. But I’m the lucky one who knows just what went into all the meals that made you this way.

Those smotheringly chubby cheeks and those triple chins were barbecue. The piles of pulled pork drowned in sugary sauce, the globs of steakhouse macaroni and cheese, the mountains of creamy potato salad, the tubs of greasy baked beans — you choked them all down voraciously, going back for seconds, thirds, fourths, more. You gorged yourself on pig, and it returned the favor by making you resemble the meals you loved so much. Now your fat pushes your cheeks and jowls out, pinches your nose and eyes, and gives you a porcine look to all the world.

Your love of dessert and sugary confections made those arms. You’ve never hesitated to eat an entire cheesecake slice by slice, eschewing plate and fork in favor of holding each thick wedge in your pudgy grasp and going in like a normal person would eat an apple. You’ll shovel in chocolate mousse cake, fat arms jiggling as you chase every last drop of saccharine, syrupy chocolate around your plate. Your love of all things sweet has left you with arms as velvety as ice cream and as jiggly as custard — your luscious bingo wings cascading down your side rolls, your forearms growing thick enough to wobble with every movement and grasp for your next bite.

Years of chugging sugary soda gave you those massive sacks of flab on your chest. You down thousands of calories of the stuff every day like you’re drinking water, making it your beverage of choice at every meal. Between using it for a caffeine boost from the exhausting effort of just existing under your tremendous bulk, or cooling down from your most recent trip to the kitchen, it’s rare not to see a bottle in your hand. And once you got a machine to make your own soda — letting you overload it with syrup to the point that it could still be called soda only out of courtesy — you’d basically set up an uninterrupted flow of pure sugar. Your tits bulged in proportion, swelling and sagging as you guzzled those empty calories to keep them growing, coming to resemble the industrial bags of drink mix you were finishing at an alarming rate and leaving your lungs underneath feeling like they, too, were drowning in syrup.

Your legs, I bet, we could blame entirely on pizza. Calling them thunder thighs would be a gross understatement. They look every bit like the calories from the thousands — tens of thousands — of slices of pizza you’ve gobbled up have gone straight there. You’ve enjoyed dumping gobs and gobs of pizza — those cheesy, greasy, doughy piles of saturated fat on a plate — into your body; and they’ve transformed into piles of jiggling grease, hanging off your legs in pendulous, shapeless blobs having to be hauled around, step by labored step, on those infrequent occasions when you can be bothered to stand.

Your couch-sized ass is a monument to all the years spent sitting on it and choking down junk food. You just can’t stop stuffing your face with empty calories, as if you don’t have so much junk in your trunk already that you can barely fit through doorways. You like the kitchen well-stocked with chips, pretzels, crackers, cheese puffs, cookies, candy bars — everything that’s been strategically designed to taste good, leave you completely unsatisfied, and make you crave more. All those calories flowing into you between meals has left you with two enormous, wobbling globes of fat on your rear, which either rise and fall behind you with every pitiful waddling step, or else spread out underneath you like huge lumps of dough when you sit. They’re the last thing to leave any seat you take, and their combined couple hundred pounds usually make sure you don’t leave wherever you’ve plopped down for as long as possible. All the better to sit back, gobble up more junk food, and feed them even bigger.

But the biggest, most obvious part of you, has to be that unbelievable belly of yours, though; and nothing could be responsible for that but good, old fashioned fast food. The thousands of bags of fatty burgers you’ve put away, loaded with grease and cheese and bacon; the countless french fries, those carb-laden grease sponges that are the closest thing to a vegetable you get; and the fried chicken nuggets covered in some sugary sauce or other — those have basically been the base of your personal food pyramid since either of us can remember. Add to that the occasional family-size fried chicken meal smothered in sausage gravy, or the pile of takeout burritos loaded with sour cream and cheese, and it’s no surprise where that belly came from. It’s no surprise either that it takes up your entire lap and waterfalls over your knees, burying your body under the weight of its shapeless, blobby mass. A constant reminder, hanging out of your shirt in plain sight, of just how much fattening drive-thru garbage you’ve stuffed down your throat and let turn to fat. An un-hideable, unapologetic, inexcusable sign of your willingness to put your cravings for food ahead of anything else.

And the rest of you — by which I mean, all the hundreds of pounds I’m going to grow on your already pathetically blubbery body — that’s all going to be what’s in this barrel. Mostly cooking lard and corn syrup, but if you’re good I’ll add some flavoring now and again. I’m sure you can imagine some of the ways that could manifest on your body — and that panicked look on your face tells me you don’t have any trouble envisioning where this is going. After we start draining these into your fat gut on the regular, well…

Like I said, you are what you eat. Very soon, you’re going to be eating much more — and I bet there’ll be much, MUCH more of you to feed.

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #weight gain story #gainer stories

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years ago

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Life Is Miserable

Summary: The reader has a bad day at work and her roommate Dean is concerned...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Square: Quote H “You’re just a softie”

Warnings: language, angst, negative talk about self/work

A/N: Wrote this as a bit of personal stress relief after some stuff happened. Remember y’all, life may have rough and miserable moments but there are just moments and they’ll pass too. Also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo!

_________

Just when you’d gotten your head above water again, something had dragged you back under the surface. It was always the same. Claw your way out only to be smacked back down. Over and over and over. Every time pushed a little more though. Every time you kept some of that stress. Over and over and over.

“What did you just say?” You were stood in front of the open fridge, gulping down half a can of whatever beer Dean had bought. You licked your lips, his face scrunched up as he ditched the spatula in his hand on the counter.

“I said...” you sighed, shutting the fridge and running a hand through your hair. “I had a long day is all Dean.”

“I’d say so. I ask how your day was and you tell me ‘life is miserable’ like that’s a completely normal thing to say.”

You rolled your eyes and he frowned. “Y/N. Why’d you say that?”

“Maybe cause my life is shit?” You gulped down the rest of the can before tossing it in the bin under the sink. He was slack jawed but you didn’t have it in you to put on your fake happy face today. To pretend everything was hunky dory.

The bottle inside had popped and the cap was not going back on.

You skirted past him out of the kitchen, your roommate jogging down to your bedroom, blocking your path to it.

“What is going on? What do you mean your life is shit? You have a great life,” he said. You laughed, Dean pouting.

“I know I do which is why I keep my damn mouth shut about how much it actually sucks!” you shouted. He didn’t deserve you going off on him but you desperately wanted to be left alone. Dean crossed his arms and you growled. “Dean. Move.”

“No. Not until you tell me all about your shitty life. I want the truth. What’s so fucking shitty?”

“Everything!” you shouted. “My reward for doing well at my stressful job? Here’s even harder stressful work we won’t pay you to do! My reward for choosing a supposedly safe career path? A job I fucking hate. My reward for always being the yes man? Oh, so and so quit because she has a rich husband. Y/N can take her work of course because she’s single! She doesn’t have a husband or kids. We don’t consider her to have a ‘real’ family or goals or anything but a cog in the machine. She doesn’t even have a house because she’ll never be able to afford one on her own! She can put in the overtime and we’ll work her to the bone! My reward for hard work is being alone and stressed and hating almost every waking hour of my damn life. I’m exhausted all day. I can’t decompress on the weekends. I’m so fucking tired Dean. I’m so tired and what do I have to complain about? I have more than so many other people so why the fuck would I ever complain about any of it? Why would I ever do anything other than keep on chugging along when everyone tells me how great my life is? You’ve said it yourself. I have an amazing career and opportunities and people would kill to be in my position. Well Dean. I never wanted any of that. All I wanted was to be happy and I’m not. I don’t remember the last time I was genuinely happy and didn’t force it for other people. I don’t remember the last time I had a hug. I don’t remember anything other than feeling like life is miserable. Now please, get out of my way. I want to be left alone.”

Dean stepped aside and you slipped into the bedroom, quickly locking the door behind you before any tears could fall.

A knock at the door an hour later made you jump, the distinct scent of spicy queso in the air.

“Y/N? I ordered your favorite takeout to bribe you to come out here and talk to me,” said Dean. I rolled over in bed, staring at the white door. “I got way too much so you’re actually obligated by roommate code to come out here immediately.”

“The takeout budget already ran out for the month.”

“Fuck the fucking budget. Get your ass out here before I tear that door down.”

You sighed and got up, unlocking the door to find a smiling Dean staring back.

“You’re right. Life is miserable.”

“What?” I blinked at him and he smiled.

“When you put it the way you did, life does seem miserable,” he said. He pulled you into a hug, holding on tight. “Let’s try to make it a little less tonight, hm?”

“Dean-”

“I have a foolproof plan. I went through several drafts,” he said. He picked you up and carried you over to the couch, plopping you down in front of nearly a dozen containers on the coffee table.

“Dean! This is way over budg-” He pressed a finger to your lips and shushed you.

“That’s so cute. You really think you’re going to win this one,” he laughed. He sat beside you, curling his arm around your waist, keeping you close. He reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, holding it out to you. “These are our new roommate rules. Non-negotiable.”

You gave him a side eye and he tapped the page. “Rule one. Work only your required hours. If you’re stressed trying to do your work, bring it up to your boss. If they don’t help, say fuck ‘em and work at a normal pace.”

“I particularly like that one,” he said.

“You realize that doesn’t work right? I-”

“Actually it does. Either they have too much work or too tight of a deadline and that’s not your problem. Show up, do you job, clock out. What’s done is done and the rest comes the next day. Rule number two is tied to that one actually.”

“Rule two. Work stays at work. Home is for food, fun and hugs.” You made a face and he shrugged. “Rule three. Mandatory daily hugs. Rule four. Mandatory weekly fun night with Dean. Rule five. Let’s get out of this apartment and rent a house together.”

“I’m quite partial to those as well,” said Dean, smirking as your eyes caught the last rule to be read. “My favorite is the last one though.”

“Rule six. No more pretending to each other. Bad days. Life shit. My crush on you. We lay it all on the table.” Dean pecked a kiss on your cheek before dipping his head low and pressing a light one to your lips. He pulled back with a soft smile and hummed. “Dean.”

“You don’t have to feel the same, sweetheart. But we’re friends and roomies no matter what. I told you the rules weren’t up for debate and they aren’t. So let’s enjoy dinner, hm?”

You opened your mouth to speak but the words were caught in your throat. Instead, something more brutally honest came out. “Dean I like you but I have to like me again before I start dating someone. I need my head on straight.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need me to.” He opened a food container and handed it to you. “Oh. By the way, just because you don’t have a husband or kids doesn’t mean you’re less important than people that do. Work gets you 9 to 5. The rest of that is your very important quality Netflix binging time with your wonderful roommate. I’d be glad to inform your boss of how people have these things called lives and that you have one. Maybe I can even teach him he has one too!”

You rolled your eyes, resting your head on his shoulder. “Maybe I should quit too. Or just say it’s too much and that I can’t do it all.”

“At a minimum you have to say that. It’s your life and I’m damn sure going to make it a happier one for you again.” You nuzzled closer to him, Dean humming. “See? You’re just a softie. Aren’t you? Rule three is a winner already. We’re definitely keeping that one around.”

“You’ve not won the best roommate ever award unless you got-”

“Carne asda quesadillas? Please. I’m not an amateur.” You set the container in your lap and wrapped your arms around him. “So. Life still miserable?”

“Maybe more like annoying at the moment,” you said. You inhaled deeply, picking up your head to kiss Dean’s cheek, deciding from now on you were definitely going to try harder to not kill yourself at work. “But I’ll get through.”

“That’s my girl.”

__________

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean x #dean winchester x #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years ago

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Honest mistake [Ron Weasley x Reader]

Title: Honest mistake Pairing: Ron Weasley x Reader Word count: 2.5k Published: 13 April 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warning: Alcohol, drunk teenagers Summary: [x] Winning a quidditch game means one thing and one thing only, drunken teenagers stumbling across the corridors of Hogwarts. Ron Weasley isn’t any different, he is anything but sober by the time you catch up with the trio and for once you don’t mind drunk people. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Band–psychos 1.5k Followers Bingo Card by @band--psycho

Square filled: Drunken Confession

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Band–psychos 1.5k Followers Bingo Masterlist

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Winning a quidditch match meant one thing and one thing only. Teenagers drunkenly stumbling around the castle trying not to be caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris. It was a hard task, one that many failed to achieve. But you seemed to be on the right path as you hid in empty classrooms, behind statues and hidden passages. You were on your way to the Gryffindor common room to continue the party, you simply slipped out to help your friend going back to the Ravenclaw common room after she had decided that clumsily undressing herself on a table would be the best way to entertain the rest of the school. Although she was somewhat comical, you couldn’t let her go through with it, so there you were, trying to sneak back in.

Luckily the corridor leading to the Gryffindor tower was empty, no sign of Filch or his cat, but you still kept the noise of your shoes as faint as you could possibly manage. You quickly whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who opened the door for you, although murmuring something under her breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Finally, where were you?” George slurred as he threw his arm around your shoulder, his scent of alcohol immediately hitting your nostrils.

“You smell like fire-whiskey, George,” you grimaced as you removed his arm from your shoulder.

“It’s the smell of adulthood,” he shouted after you, but you didn’t even acknowledge that you heard his drunken rumbling. You looked around searching for your cousin, Angelina, who previously tried to get you as drunk as she was, unsuccessfully. Drinking wasn’t something you enjoyed, and it wasn’t because of the taste of alcohol, but because it felt like you lost control over yourself and that wasn’t something you enjoyed. You liked to be in control one way or another.

As you tried to push past the sea of people, you caught sight of Angelina, but she seemed to be rather occupied by Fred Weasley’s lips. Rolling your eyes, you turned around, searching for some better company. There was one particular ginger boy you were interested in finding, but you couldn’t see him anywhere nor did you see his friends. Hermione, Harry and Ron were glued by the hips as far as you saw and when one was gone so were the others.

Giving up on your search you flopped down on an empty armchair, not far from Fred and Angelina, who seemed to have better things to do than realise your presence. The sound of their saliva exchange seemed to bother you the longer you sat in your spot and by the time Angelina slipped into Fred’s lap, you couldn’t handle it anymore. The definition of control was something you just wanted to forget as the whole Gryffindor common room was a mess of drunkenly stumbling kids with no self-control. You couldn’t handle the sight, the noises, the crowd, you reached for the lonely bottle of fire-whiskey on the table and chugged a good shot down your throat.

Inevitably you started coughing, your body’s reaction to the unusual substance was obvious rejection, making you feel like you were about the throw up. Taking slow, deep breaths however seemed to have worked as the alcohol stayed down and after taking a second and third round, your body got used to the feeling. The room started heating up and you felt your cheeks flush, your ears burn as though someone changed the temperature in the room. But you weren’t naive, you knew it was simply the effects of the alcohol.

“Someone changed her mind about alcohol,” Angelina quipped as she finally parted from Fred. You didn’t even realise when the smooching sound has stopped, but it felt calm and somewhat pure again, regardless of all the drunk, dumb teenagers crowding the room.

“I couldn’t handle the atmosphere anymore,” you replied in a dry tone.

“Or?” she raised a questioning brow, a rather suspicious smile spread across her face.

“Or what?” you squinted with a deep frown across your brows, trying to understand her indications.

“You know, liquid courage,” she winked playfully, but her words meant nothing to you.

“I have no idea what you are on about. What would I need courage for?” You grimaced, scrunching your nose in the process.

“Obviously to ask Ron out,” she deadpanned you as if her statement was natural.

“Hold on a minute, you have a crush on my brother?” Fred quipped in with a wide grin on his face, one that didn’t indicate you were about to get out of this uncomfortable situation any time soon.

“Oh, she is head over heels for him,” Angelina laughed, slightly tilting her head back, holding onto her stomach. You didn’t find the situation quite as funny as she did, but it might have been because of the difference in the amount of alcohol you both consumed.

“So, when are you going to confess?” Fred asked with a humorous tone to his voice. Although you expected to be made fun of, it felt wrong that they found your feelings for the youngest Weasley brother comical. Watching him for years, yearning to be close to him and being swept aside to be stuck in only a friendship with him was beyond hard for you to handle and now that two people who were close to you made fun of you certainly didn’t help your unfortunate case.

“I’m glad you are enjoying the situation,” you huffed, trying to divert your attention from the couple, indicating that you didn’t find their presence interesting any longer.

“Oh, come on, we were just joking around,” Fred added upon seeing how uncomfortable he’d made you. But there was no reply, you didn’t even spare a glance at him. Fred heaved a heavy sigh and stood up, stumbling over to you and taking a seat on the arm of your chair. “Listen to me, my brother is a complete idiot for not realising your feelings, and I’m an idiot for making fun of you too, but it’s in our blood, maybe he just needs a little nudge,” he grinned proudly as if his idea was some sort of newfound solution. But in reality, you have tried to nudge the boy so many times, giving him hints, staying close to him as much as you could, but he remained blind to your feelings.

“If I nudge him anymore, I might as well push him down a hill,” you added bitterly, making Fred snort.

“I think our mother would have a say in that, but whatever you feel comfortable with,” he kept chuckling as he walked back to Angelina and captured her lips again. You never meant to be bitter about other couples, you didn’t want to be jealous, but watching them embracing each other made you feel useless for once. You stood up from the couch, securing your firm grip around the bottle of fire-whiskey as you stumbled around the room, not even trying to control your own body’s reaction to the alcohol. At that moment you just didn’t care anymore.

“Hey, we were looking for you,” you heard Hermione’s voice from across the room faintly. It took you a good few seconds to find her as you glanced around the room in anticipation, hoping the ginger boy was close by. As you caught a glimpse of Hermione’s bushy hair with Ron and Harry on each of her sides, you cut through the crowd, halting in front of the trio.

“So was I. Where were you?” You questioned as you tried to catch Ron’s eyes, but he found his shoes more interesting than your presence. You heaved a heavy sigh, one that has been an hourly occurrence around the boy, each time destroying just a little more of the hope you still harboured for the slightest of chance that you might just have a tiny chance with the boy.

“Ron got a bit too drunk,” Harry huffed in an annoyed tone.

“As if,” Ron quipped in, his cheeks crimson red, his words slurred. You found his pouting adorable, and you could barely contain the small smile threatening to grow wider.

“He confessed his undying love to me,” Harry added with a deadpan expression.

“I didn’t see that it was you,” Ron added in haste, trying to save himself from further embarrassment.

“You were looking straight into my eyes whilst you did so. So, whether you really are in love with me, or you have had way too much to drink. Your choice,” Harry raised a questioning brow, waiting for his friend to reply.

“Well, I’m certainly not in love with you,” he huffed.

“Then I guess you are drunk, what a surprise,” Harry retorted, making you giggle.

“Whatever,” Ron shrugged, heading towards an empty sofa and dropping down on it.

“Can you pay attention to him until I get some food and water for him from the kitchen?” Hermione asked with an exhausted expression and you could just imagine the amount of effort it took her not to strangle her drunk friend.

“Of course, but hurry back. He needs to just sleep it off,” you told her as she nodded and walked past you with Harry in her steps.

You walked over to the couch, looking at the boy, his limbs spread all over the cushions, his eyes closed, clearly in need of a good sleep. “Don’t worry, Hermione and Harry will be back soon and then you can go upstairs,” you tried to reassure him as you sat down beside him.

His eyes opened and effortlessly stared at you, making you feel as though you were tiny under his intense gaze. You attempted to turn away, but his blue eyes completely captured you and as much as you tried, you couldn’t get yourself to take your eyes off him. Gulping loudly, you shifted deeper into your spot, feeling as though it would be better to disappear.

“You’re fairly pretty, you know?” He asked with a lopsided grin, his confidence surprising you.

“Excuse me?” You asked, fearing you have heard him wrong.

“You’re quite pretty,” he repeated himself as he leaned closer, this time making sure you heard him well. His cheeks were slightly blushed, his freckles scattered all over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Qu—quiet? What does that even mean? Am I supposed to feel happy and take it as a compliment or were you trying to insult me?” You chuckled awkwardly, although you were rather happy both as a result of the bottle of fire-whiskey you were still holding on to and the compliment or so that you have received from Ron for the first time.

“Well, I mean— I can’t just walk up to you and confess my love for you, can I?” He snorted, laughing at himself, but you didn’t find his words funny. You were stunned, your smile disappeared and there was only one thing going through your mind. How sincere he was. “You would kill me if you realised how much I loved you,” he added, surprising you even more. Trying to control your heartbeat, you took deep breaths, but it didn’t seem to help. His words affected you both physically and emotionally. Your cheeks felt as though they were burning, your breathing was irregular, and you could physically feel your blood pulsing through your veins whilst your brain didn’t seem to process his words.

“What did you just say?” You asked, needing reassurance.

“I said you would murder me if I told you how much I loved you and I can’t risk that,” he slurred, his eyes closed once again, feeling tired from the amount of alcohol he has consumed throughout the night.

“Ronald, you just have,” you tried to reason with him, a small smile hiding in the corner of your lips, his confession making you feel content. It did run across your mind that it was the alcohol talking, but in the end, you just ignored the voices, because alcohol or not, no sane person would make such a silly mistake.

“No, I haven’t. You might have a hearing problem,” he replied cluelessly, shrugging his shoulder. You found his state rather funny, so you decided to push him.

“So, you don’t like me?” You asked, raising your brows curiously.

“Wait what?” he asked as though he finally realised something was wrong. His adam’s apple bopped firmly as he swallowed, his palms sweating in his nervous state. “I—you are my friend, of course, I like you,” he tried to save the situation.

“Then you won’t mind if I leave you here and go and dance with other people. You wouldn’t mind a bit,” you questioned with a rather proud smile.

“Erm— I’m your friend and I don’t feel well,” he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, trying to keep his hands occupied. “As a friend it wouldn’t be nice of you if you left me like this,” he added, nodding along to his clever thinking.

“Okay, but after you have gone to sleep, it would be perfectly fine if I danced with others, right? You wouldn’t be jealous,” you asked with an innocent smile. Ron was clearly searching for the right words, but they just didn’t come.

“If— if that makes you happy, sure, go ahead,” he nodded along awkwardly, confused about his own words. You couldn’t stop the silent giggle from leaving your lips as you leaned closer and kissed the corner of his lips.

“I like you too, Ronald,” you chuckled at his cheeks taking on an even darker shade of pink and the surprise sitting across his face.

“Hey, we are back, let’s get you up,” Harry added as he appeared in the crowd with Hermione following him behind. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, looking at his friend who still looked at you as though he had seen a ghost.

“He is just tired,” you replied instead of him with a proud smile.

“Come on,” Harry stepped closer, hooking his arm around Ron’s body, placing his arm around his own shoulder.

“I meant it,” you quickly said causing Hermione and Harry to frown, but Ron understood. A wide grin spread across his face as he tried to balance himself.

“So did I,” he chuckled and leaned closer, hinting a small kiss on your forehead. “Hopefully I won’t be dead tomorrow and we can actually sit down and talk without me feeling like a rag doll,” he laughed, and you couldn’t stop yourself from returning his expression.

“I’d certainly love that,” you offered him a sweet smile as he nodded and stumbled across the common room with Harry’s help.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked with a deep frown, for the first time feeling completely clueless.

“I guess you will just have to wait to find out,” you giggled as you headed towards the dormitory, shoving the bottle of whiskey into George’s hand. You left the loud crowd and walked up the stairs to your room, with a wide grin across your face, impatiently waiting to wake up even though you weren’t even asleep just yet.

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ubemango · 4 years ago

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delicacies of the season (m)

part 3: days apart

note: hey!! What’s up!! first, I officially have named this series!! it’s right up there for ur viewing glory! ok anyway here’s something before I disappear for the next four weeks because I am drowning in school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also just a side thingie for this story: I’ve already established that oc isn’t on birth control but here I’m implying that they’re doing natural planning (i.e. fertility awareness where the person who menstruates keeps up with their cycle and thus only has sex when their cycles allows for it). PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS UNLESS YOU KNOW THE RISKS!!!!!!!! Oh Lord putting your impregnation chances up to God?! I couldn’t do it. But also this is fanfiction and nothing bad will happen to this couple so let’s all just... suspend disbelief for a second ok

PAIRING. taehyung/reader GENRE. romance, farmer au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 2.5k WARNINGS. kitchen sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, a good ol’ creampie bc wot is the ubemango experience without one :/ SUMMARY. Taehyung missed you.

Auntie Gaeul comes over when the rooster crows to tell you to check out the passion fruits today. They’re ripe not because she’s seen them but because she just knows. Call it the Elder Instinct for Ripened Foods. You tell her you’ll give her half the harvest, and she swats at you before she leaves.

“Stop being so polite, I’m not that old,” she spits in jest. “And make some of that honey iced tea your grandma makes. If there’s extra, then I’ll have some.”

Taehyung would probably like some, too; he chugs down anything with passion fruit like he’s about to go into hibernation. And when you come back home from the fields with a basket-full perched heavy on your back, you resolve to make some tea right away to bring over to his house to see if he’s there. You haven’t seen him in five days—his cousin had the stomach flu, and his aunt needed the extra help with tending to the livestock. Being the eldest nephew (and the only one who can drive a motorcycle) had him obligated right from the get-go.

“Grandma! Can you show me where you put the honey jars, I can’t remember where they are. And can you help me peel these—um. You’re not Grandma,” you stop.

Taehyung looks up from where he’s perched on the stairs of your awning, flicking bits of strawberries to the ground for Danbi to eat. Your little puppy scrounges it up so fast she nearly falls over on her fluffy bum.

“I told her to go play bingo with the rest of the granny crew, someone’s betting chicken feet,” he says. You smile wide when he trods over to you for a short kiss, slipping the strap of the basket off your shoulder to put on his. The hand he keeps low on your back is as warm as the ten AM sun. “Hi. I missed you.”

“I was just gonna go see if you were home,” you say. He smells like the wind. Something you’d scrunch your nose at but he makes it work. “When d’you come back? How’s Daeshim now?”

“An hour ago. And he’s better. He ate up all your ice cream, only thing he could keep down.”

You frown. “Poor baby.”

“I know. You gonna clean these now?” He nods his head toward the water basin, carved rock he’d installed for you on your third anniversary.

“Yeah. Can you start? I’ll just wash up quick,” you offer. Suddenly you’re aware you’ve got an ugly shirt with oil stains and holes in random places—nothing Taehyung minds, but the occasion probably deserves better.

“Got it, boss,” Taehyung says. He slaps your ass before you run to the bathroom. A familiar signal of his intentions but he’s too polite to bring it up so quickly.

“Hey!”

“Hurry up,” he calls. As if you’re going to take another five days to get back to him but you get it. You missed him, too; a little more than you’d like to let on. Your grandma is great company but she watches her TV too loud and she hates when you’re not there to sit with her because she might need your help switching channels. It’s a miracle you didn’t jump Taehyung the second your eyes landed on him.

You change into whatever shirt you’ve tossed on the floor that looks semi-presentable. It’s too early for your sweat to reek like it does under the afternoon heat, but you spritz some perfume on your neck anyway. Just for upkeep, because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t anticipating sex, a sloppy makeout session at the least. Danbi’s too hyper to be left alone, plus your grandma likes making surprise visits at your house because she’s a forgetful woman.

By the time you’ve come back from scrubbing the dirt and dead ant bits caked under your nails, Taehyung’s a third of the way through the basket, tossing the clean passion fruit into a bucket Danbi is trying so hard to climb into. She yelps when her fat paws slip at the edges.

“Danbi! Mama’s gonna be mad if you get hurt. I’ll give you some later.”

“Go play with your toy,” you call out to her. “Danbi! Go!”

Her ears perk up at your command, and she pants and pants till she decides to go in the complete opposite direction of the ball and into the patch where all the potatoes are. She hasn’t hit her teething phase so you’re safe from her snuffing anything out with her mouth. It’s her fur you worry about. She’s such a nice shade of white amongst the semi-wet dirt, it almost hurts seeing her get soiled.

“Like a little cotton ball,” Taehyung says. He points to the bucket. “This good?”

You nod—it’s enough to have extra for Auntie Gaeul. “Yeah. Wanna carry it to the kitchen like a good man?”

“As if I’m not one already,” he snorts, grabbing the handle. “Danbi, come!”

This is how it always goes. Taehyung ogles from over your shoulder (usually he’s off to the side but he’s a lot clingier, not that you mind) while you do your business because you don’t trust him with a knife. Not since the time you’d tasked him with chopping garlic and he’d nearly sliced his palm open when he tried crushing them first.

And now you’ve got a new addition to the routine: Danbi sniffs around the dried leaves for the fire, sneezing when she breathes the ash in too hard. You hear her collar jiggle as she explores the earthenware stacked on the side. You made sure Taehyung left the door open because she gets antsy fast.

“Can I just say that I have a thing for seeing you use a knife,” Taehyung says, hands stroking your tummy because he’s got nothing better to do.

“You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are.”

“Who said I was trying to hide?”

You laugh. “What are you trying to get at, mister?”

“I’m saying I missed you,” he says simply.

“So that’s why you kicked Grandma out the house,” you tease. Taehyung splutters in your ear.

“No! They really are betting chicken feet. What do you think I am?”

“Horny.”

“Ugh.”

You turn your focus back to the chopping board. Taehyung lets the sound of the knife smooth down the goop of the insides fill the space.

“...Are you mad if I am?” He whispers tentatively.

“Oh my god. It’s ten in the morning.”

“You think my dick cares?”

“You think I care?” you joke.

Taehyung gasps. Like his heart just shattered from your vitriol, but all you want is to finish cutting up these damn fruits before you’ll allow his hands to touch you. “Wow. You—? Okay, fine.”

“Wha—”

“I appreciate your hard work,” he coos. He wraps himself around you even tighter, traces a slow kiss on your neck. “Really. But don’t pretend you didn’t miss me too.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you.”

And that gets you to shut up. Taehyung only swears when he wants you to stop talking. Not for the sake of real anger but to show you he’s got something brewing, and you’re here to take whatever it is he’s about to give you.

“I just wanted to be a good fiance and visit the one I love the most after five days because I missed them so much.”

His teeth catch the lobe of your ear. Biting down softly because he’s still aware you’ve got the knife in your hand, but you’ve lost all motor skills the second he started his little bit. You drop the handle slowly. At the last second you push all the shit you’ve laid out on the counter to the farthest corner. Something tells you this space is being defiled this morning.

“Good. Are you wet?”

“N-No.”

“Then we’ll have to do something about that, huh.”

You watch his hands glide up, and you’re half-expecting him to fondle you gently, the way he teases you when you think he’s taking it slow. But instead he goes right for the kill: using those long fingers to pinch right at your tits just to get you to gasp into the feeling. You roll your eyes shut, let your head fall back on his shoulder.

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whine.

“Take your shirt off for me.”

You’ve never exposed yourself to kitchen utensils and rice wine on the pantry shelves before but Taehyung makes you want it. He shows his appreciation for your compliance with another hard grope of his hands, this time with his mouth sucking on your neck too. Craving your skin like he’s been absolutely deprived. The calluses on his fingertips rub your nipples raw.

“You smell good,” he croons. “Come here.”

You nearly tip over from how fast he spins you around, but he catches you easy, tongue on yours in the next second. The desperate tug of his lips on yours, the smack of your spit when he pulls you in deeper, all the intricacies of needing someone else to save your own sanity—it culminates here, and now your ass is up on the cold of the counter, Taehyung pulling back from one last kiss to drag that same heat down your body.

“Please let me eat you out here, holy shit.” He tugs at your pants, slides your underwear down with it. Mouthing hungry at your mound because you haven’t answered him yet, so you just groan a quick please, yes and he doesn’t even look at you before he presses his tongue inside you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the guilt of ruining this space with your (embarrassingly) uncontrolled libido is raging. But you could care less with the way Taehyung swipes his tongue around your clit, gets you clawing at his hair for brief respite. You’ve most definitely exceeded wet boundaries. His chin practically shines.

And he knows it’s because of him. Not just from his mouth but the knowledge that he wants you trembling towards a heady orgasm, the kind that consumes you whole. His laving gets bolder with every stroke, every moan you try to keep stifled but it’s useless. “Taehyung. Oh my g-od, fuck—no d-don’t use your fingers, I’ll come.”

He laughs, adjusts your thighs so you’re not cramping. “Think you’ll tap out?”

“I wanna come on your dick,” you pants.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “You’re perfect. Oh my god. I’m so fucking hard. Can I come inside you?”

“Yes yes yes yes, just get inside me already.”

Taehyung’s foot gets caught on his pants when he shoves them off, nearly crashing face first into your pussy again. And he laughs and you snort and when he’s naked waist-down he kisses you again, a little slower this time, a breather for just a moment.

“I know it’s only been five days but I missed you. A lot.”

You trap his hips with locked ankles on his back. “I know.”

“It’s just—I had to shovel so much horse shit—”

“Oh don’t say that!” You bat at his chest.

Taehyung snickers. “Sorry. Ahh, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You can stick your dick inside me and we can go from there,” you suggest.

“I like the way you think, missus.”

It’s almost laughable when he sinks right in. No resistance, just the slick of your arousal and his spit, an unholy mixture for this thick sacrilege. Taehyung’s eyes stay locked on the sight.

“Fuck yeah. Oh baby…”

If it’s got him uttering curses this early in the round then you’re definitely worse off. You’ve got one profanity for every inch he’s claimed inside you, all lined up behind your teeth but you don’t have the brain capacity to get them out. He fucks you straight to incoherence.

Your delirium keeps you mum. Taehyung will make up for it. He slots his hand up the back of your thighs, hits deeper when you arch through the pleasure. “Holy fuck that’s so good,” you whine. “Taehyung—oh god.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just pants hard with every moan you’ll give him, and you watch the sweat glow on his collarbone, the thick of his neck. Places you claim with your mouth when you lean forward because it’s too hard to keep balance without his gravity.

Taehyung breaks when you bite. “Sh-it. Oh fuck you’re so hot. ‘M not gonna last, shit.”

“You’ll fuck me when you come?” you plead, hold his gaze. He’s just as gone as you are. “You’ll fuck your cum inside me?”

“Yeah baby. I’ll give it to you. So fuckin’ good.”

He never lets up. Just keeps that steady fucking, stiff with every drive into your slick till he adjusts your knees with one push. Pussy open to the angle that gets you begging for his thumb on your clit because it’s right there. You fall back on your hands, no steady grip because Taehyung’s faltering too.

“Oh—!” You flutter your eyes shut to pending ecstasy. “Tae—please—harder—right there right there don’t stop!”

“You gonna come for me?”

It’s a rhetorical question. You know he sees the way your chest collapses, the rub of your clit in quick gestures for your high. He’s got you right in his hand.

“Fuck—ohhh yes!”

“Ugh,” he whines. It’s nearly lost to the ringing in your ears, the clench of your pussy from his pounding. You cream him so good when the orgasm’s strong enough, pulsing hot, the rough intensity. And that’s not lost on him when he cries: “God your pussy’s so wet. Holy shit.”

Usually you’re spent by the time your vision’s cleared to the sight of Taehyung fucking you through it. But he’s promised you something, and you’re greedy for it.

“Come inside me,” you urge, guiding a hand through his hair, pulling hard at his nape. He keeps his eyes on his dick priming you for those final strokes.

“I’ll fucking come,” he snaps. “You ready? I’ll come so good for you baby. Come so fucking—good—!”

He stiffens with a shout, grinds his teeth, lets his orgasm splash inside with so much heat you mewl. And he keeps minimal movement, thrust for soft thrust because it’s too much with the squeezing you tease him with.

“I.” Taehyung clears his throat, panting to a stop. “I… wow.”

Your ass is rubbed raw against the counter. But you’ll risk it again to see the glint in his eye when he pulls out and watches his cum drip down your hole, onto the floor for you to clean when your legs aren’t jelly.

“Wow,” you repeat.

“Do… Am I… Am I ovulating?” He looks genuinely confused. “I don’t… I’ve never been that horny before.”

You snort. “Five days felt like forever, huh.”

Taehyung kisses you slow. “If it means we get to fuck like that again then I’m going to the city for a month.”

“Hey!” You pinch his arm, using his bicep to stand up, tiptoeing around the mess on the floor. “God. Help me clean up here, please. And where’s the dog?”

(Danbi sleeps peacefully in the wicker basket, head lolled on one of the passion fruits. You make sure to bring her over to Auntie Gaeul’s for extra snacks.)

#bts smut #taehyung smut #v smut #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #v scenarios #ubemango fic #f: farmer!tae series #f: delicacies of the season

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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

Text

Peach (c.b. one-shot)

Blurb (More BTC!) : You could tell Carmy had a bad day from the sound of the door slamming, and then a called “sorry! Didn’t mean it babe” and by the looks of his cheeks that were a flushed red that matched his chest when he’d taken his hoodie off, he’d had a really long run. It felt a bit wrong, but sexy that it felt so, as you watched him tug off his shorts, then his boxers, revealing his soft cock, and his adorable really even though he got all blushy and shy when you pointed it out bare lily white ass.

♡ One Shot Inspo: Based on ♡this♡ ask from a sweet anon, thank you for your request! Peaches symbolize many things, including longevity, love, and immortality. Peach blossoms are also said to put men into a trance of love. Before the 17th century, peaches were considered a subgenus of the apple, so European cultural representations of apples, such as in paintings and poems, were sometimes transferred onto peaches. This included connotations of fertility and immortality. ♡ Summary: Carmy has a bad day at work, and comes home with an attitude that needs a little assistance adjusting. ♡ W/C: 1.7k ♡ A/N: EEEEEE I can't believe season 3 comes out today yall!!! I am shakin in my boots and so freaking excited!!! I'm going to be binging the whole series likely tonight!!! OMG our boy is finally gonna get out of the freezer! I hope you like this one shot, I may be able to get another out today before the new season but its already 3 and it comes out at 9 so maybe but anywho, I hope you all like!! The drought is almost overrr!!! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Smut!! Fem!Reader, No use of Y/N, swearing, Black!Fem!Reader friendly

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡ ➵ My 300 Follower Celebration Bingo!

It was a sticky, hot, balmy Chicago summer day. To top it off, it had been raining all day long which meant people had been ducking into The Beef in refuge of somewhere dry and cool, so Carmy had been absolutely slammed with orders all day long. He was feeling antsy, too full of energy.

So it was only normal for him to go on a run straight after work. He put on his black shorts, and white hoodie after changing out of his work clothes and drove to his favorite park. He wouldn’t have known how many miles he’d ran since the parks trail was just one big loop unless he had his phone in his pocket, which it told him 5.

The only other way he’d known he would have ran that much was his hoodie was drenched in sweat, and so was his hair. Like, dripping. Each lap around the trail he had chugged a few large sips from his gallon full of water that was now warm from sitting on the bench on the side of the trail. He had only stopped because he was genuinely exhausted and his water was pretty much gone. But thankfully, his mind had been mostly cleared.

He had to do this before he came home to you. Carmy knew he had…issues, managing his anger. The only way he knew he wouldn’t explode from overstimulation by giving the physical affection he knew you deserved after he was away from you all day long. So if he blew off all of his steam, he could give you what was left of him which was the exhausted, run down version that didn’t have the emotional wearwithall to shut you out or snap at you.

When he came through the door, he came to the bedroom to see you curled up in bed. He sighed softly in relief both at the feeling of the air conditioner and at the realization his day was finally over, and he could relax. “Hey baby” he mumbled, tugging his hoodie off and pushing his sweat slick hair off of his forehead as to not drip on you before leaning over and kissing your forehead. “Gonna shower n’ I’ll make dinner sorry m’late went running. Bad day” he said as he headed off to the bathroom, the door slightly ajar just enough you could see him in the large bathroom mirror.

You could tell he had a bad day from the sound of the door slamming, and then a called “sorry! Didn’t mean it babe” and by the looks of his cheeks that were a flushed red that matched his chest when he’d taken his hoodie off, he’d had a really long run. It felt a bit wrong, but sexy that it felt so, as you watched him tug off his shorts, then his boxers, revealing his soft cock, and his adorable really even though he got all blushy and shy when you pointed it out bare lily white ass.

He ran shirtless most of the time, and his Italian really came through in the summer - because his skin absorbed so much sun in just the time he went on his runs, turning it more freckled and golden bronzed tan of what his winter color was. His hair demonstrated it too, the ends that was and the parts that peek out of his hat. He had tiny noticeable bleach blonde streaks from the sun in some of his curls, Natalie teased that was his color when he was a baby and he should let it come out more.

His stark tan line across his ass cutting just before the dimples on his spine made you smile to yourself, which turned to a pout as he stepped in the shower and you could no longer see him. You sigh softly to yourself at your now lack of eye candy and turned your attention back to the tv when you hear a little groan. “Fuckin Jesus it’s hot out today” he muttered to himself that you could barely hear over the water. But it piqued your interest.

You got up, padding over to the wall next to the bathroom door and listened. Nothing. Damn, you had a sexy little fantasy going on in your head of catching him jacking off or something and offering to join him all sexy, but it sounds like he’s just…showering. You can smell the faint scent of his herby body wash mixed with dove soap, the faint splashing of water every so often as he cleans himself. Found yourself asking if you should just leave him alone, but then again this is something you hadn’t tried together before.

Carefully you nudge open the door and Carmy looks over “oh- hey babe I’m almost done did you need the- woah, okay- hi- gettin in? All dressed?” He teased, a bit confused and surprised when you had just slid open the shower door casually. He looked adorable, hair full of soap, cheeks slightly less pink due to the cool water, it felt a bit like corruption to offer getting him off.

“No uh…” you swallow thickly, eyes flickering to his soapy chest and…yeah, you remembered why you wanted in here in the first place. “Can I…help you- like, relax?” You question and his brows raise in surprise, mouth dropping for a moment before closing again, as if he was trying to find what to say.

This proved true a few moments later when he just said “s-sure- yeah how do you wanna help me?” The heat in his cheeks was coming back.

“C’mere” you wrap your manicured hand around the back of his neck, gently angling him down to kiss you and he gratefully accepts. He nervously keeps his hands behind his back since he didn’t wanna get you wet, allowing you to touch and kiss him however you wanted. “Carmy” you mumble between kisses and he responds with a ‘mmm’ of acknowledgment “why” kiss “aren’t you” kiss “touching me?”

You pulled away a bit so he could answer and he wiped soap off his forehead before it dribbled in his eyes “uh I don’t wanna get you wet, I guess?” He said and you shrug

“Don’t care, you can touch me” you continued ravishing him in kisses and he wraps his arms around you, wet hands finding your back and roaming over the soft skin. It went on like this for a few minutes, biting and kissing and sucking on eachothers lips- when you grabbed his half hard cock at the base and gently stroked it, all the way up to the tip- brushing your thumb over it and going back down, he gasped, forehead falling to your shoulder.

“Fuckin hell” he breathed, his cock getting fully erect after just a few gentle strokes of your soft, pretty hand. He kept his arms wrapped around you, one hand on each hip, squeezing to ground himself as you found a rhythm pumping him with your hand. His moans went all whiny the way they did when he needed more, and you tighten your grip earning a hot,breathy “yes, thank you baby” out of him that made you smirk proudly and turn your face just barely in order to kiss his temple.

“Of course Bear, m’sorry you had such a bad day lovey. But I’m here for you, I’m so happy you let me take care of you. I love making you feel good, do you feel good, Carmy?” You ask in a sultry tone in the shell of his ear. His cock stiffened in your hand, along with a pretty ruined whimper letting you know he was close “can you lean on the wall for me pretty boy?” His stomach clenched as he tried holding himself back, his breath coming more ragged like pants

“So close” he warned “so so close” he repeats.

“I know baby can you sit up” you giggle “I promise you’ll like it” you said and he huffs, leaning against the wall and looking at you with the cat-like ‘I was comfortable and you made me move’ look, until you got on your knees right in front of where he was now leaned against the shower wall near the door, and continued to stroke him with your tongue stuck out down your chin while you watch him with big doe eyes.

His attention returns, mouth dropping hotly and pants resuming as you sped up your hand, using your other to massage his balls. The action had his eyes nearly rolling back and head falling against the wall but he remained all of his focus on you, his girl - his beautiful, amazing girl, on her knees, jerking his cock and eagerly waiting for him to shoot a load down your throat so you can swallow it gratefully, and even lick the tip clean after. God he loved when you did that.

The reminder of your affinity for the taste of his cum had him grunting to cover up his long drawn out moan that tore from deep in his chest as he came harder then he thought he would, needing to lean his shoulder on the wall further as his knees actually shook while he shot rope after rope of white cream into your eagerly awaiting pretty pink mouth. You hum, satisfied at the taste as you continued quickly jerking his cock to milk out every last drop. After you did so, you made sure to allow him to tilt your face up, and admire the cum covering your lips, tongue, and chin, as well as dripping down the back of your throat.

You shut your eyes, swallowing the mouthful with a satisfied grin licking your lips and wiping the remaining cum off your chin and neck with your finger, and then sucking that while you looked him in the eyes. He stared down at you in awe, cock twitching at your movements. Poor thing couldn’t even get soft with the sight of you around. You furthered that torture by gently grabbing the base of his cock and giving the sensitive tip kitten licks to clean off any missed dribbles.

“You are gonna be the fucking death of me” he told you as you got up, and go to the sink to brush your teeth

“Feel better?” You asked and he looked at you in the reflection of the mirror like a confused puppy for a moment before he realized oh, right. He came home in a shit mood after a shit day, and you essentially sucked the attitude out of him.

“Mmhmm” he mumbled and shut the shower door.

You sucked the attitude out of him, not the ego after all.

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keravnous · 3 years ago

Text

- agent 14/agent haines; the heart wants what it wants

Somewhere sirens are going off, howling with the steady, racing heartbeat of the city. They sweep to Steve's ears but they do not manage to reach his brain - currently oddly occupied with keeping his eyes locked on a figure a few meters away.

The man sits alone, smoking his third cigarette in under seven and a half minutes. Dark circles under his eyes, framing his face delightfully, only adding to his typical Los Santos appearance: stressed face, five o'clock shadow, chain smoking and the shakes of visible caffeine abuse.

Steve had never seen him before.

"Boss?"

"Yeah?", he just can't bring himself to look away. The man takes his phone out, seemingly picking up a call, his face immediately crunching up in annoyance.

"We're heading back in, are you coming with us?"

He lits another cigarette. Steve wants to lick the smoke from his lips, wants to know if he tastes like it too, wants to taste the fire of his lighter, to bury his hands in his dark locks and never let go of him again -

"Yeah, fuck. Sure."

Steve gets up, chair screeching loudly over the concrete, getting his hopes up that the stranger would look up at the noise, react to it in any way. But the loud screeeech is like any other noise in this goddamn city really, one that citizens get used to over time and eventually grow to ignore it completely. Thus he doesn't look up at all, continues to hiss into his phone and Steve retreats, like a beaten dog, back into his office.

It takes him thirty minutes to realize - a government offical and a highly decorated one, too - that his office's windows head towards the terrace. But when he peeks through the blinds the plaza's already deserted.

It takes a whole week full of nerve-wrecking lunch breaks and one or two bombings somewhere in Europe, before he sees him again. He doesn't wear a suit this time and Steve is convinced that he has to be a banker, taking his break here instead of his office's cantine.

He feels like he's struck by lightning. He wants to walk over there and introduce himself, but he also just wants to sit, admire from afar, to never move again. The man lights a cigarette and that also ignites a fluttering feeling in Steve's stomach and his chest, sending tingles straight to his fingers. The small butterflies leave a burning sensation and he wants to tear his chest apart, grab them by their wings and riiiip them out, until blood spills everywhere. Dave and Sanchez are arguing, but he can't hear them anymore, the pounding of his heart too loud, a static noise filling his ears. His body is releasing all the build-up tension worth the week's wait, and his hands grab the armrests of his chair.

This is crazy. He's crazy. This man is a complete stranger and here he is, highly decorated Special Agent Steve Haines, national hero and model employee of the FIB, and its his own body that's suddendly betraying him.

The man looks up and Steve's world stops. The noises fade, maybe his heart even stops pounding - he really can't be sure.

The man has pretty eyes, all blue and green like the atlantic ocean far out on the sea, in the shimmering sunlight. He's pretty. Very much so. He's maybe around his own age, maybe a little younger, high cheekbones that probably (Steve's uncannily sure about that) deliver quite a show once the man laughs. He looks good in his clothes. A little too good.

Steve wants to get up and leave. Steve wants to sit and continue to stare. Steve wants to rip his clothes of his body - wants to disappear, because he can't stand the other man's eyes on him. Checking him out. Judging him.

It's quite the stare, really. One that could send him to his knees or make his blood boil.

Steve's phone rings on the table, the take-away cups vibrate with it and he nearly jumps in his chair. He picks his phone up hastily and the stranger throws him an arrogant smile, one brow cocked up and looks down at his laptop again. Steve gets up and leaves the table.

It's Friday and it's been a week since he felt like his body was completely failing him. Since then the stranger had spent every lunch break at the plaza and Steve had locked eyes with him multiple times, had bathed in the soaring tingles of his body.

Today, he's finally alone, with Norton on a trip to Liberty City and Sanchez having called in sick yesterday. He takes the elevator down to the ground floor and checks his hair in its mirror one last time, until the doors swing open with a loud diiing. He steps out, passing through the entry hall like a conqueror and then he's outside, the air all warm and mushy around him. His gaze falls upon the terrace.

The man is not there. His table is empty and so is his chair. Steve's shoulders slump.

He sits down and chugs down a cup of coffee and then another one and suddendly someone behind him clear's their throat.

"Got some fire?"

He turns around and his heart skips a beat. It's him.

He does taste like smoke. And a little sweet, a little spicy. It makes his lips tingle and burn, his groin growing hot.

He breaks their lips apart, as he presses the smaller man against the tiles of the bathroom.

"What's your name, huh?"

"Warren", his cheeks are red. He's so hot, his hands are hot against Steve's scalp and he presses himself against the other man, rolls his name around with his tongue.

"Warren. I'm Steve." The answer is another heated kiss and a hand that rushes to the fly of his trousers.

He doesn't see him again after this, not during his lunch break nor anywhere else in the city. The weeks turn into months and sometime inbetween Steve stops to care.

He's at a bar with some guys he still knows from college. They bore him but one of them pays for the drinks so he decides he could survive a few more hours. They talk and talk and talk and Steve can't bring himself to care and then he sees it.

A familiar leather jacket and suddendly their gazes lock. Warren smiles and Steve can't stop himself from smiling back.

They are in a bathroom again, hungrier this time. "I am sorry", Warren breaks the kiss, only for Steve to dive back in, "I had to leave. Work-related."

"Where'you working?", Steve's lips nibble at his throat, taking in is taste and his scent. He feels high with it.

"Maze Bank. I-I'm a banker", bingo.

"Looked the part", Steve grabs his hips and they stumble backwards against the stall's door and Warren presses himself between Steve's opened legs.

" 'n you?", he's slurring as Steve's hands wander underneath his shirt, up up up his back. He doesn't feel like lying, trying to would be uselss anyway. Steve knows what he and his colleagues look like.

"Government." Warren looks at him, a second too long, and Steve isn't quite sure what to make of it. But then their lips lock again and he choses not to think about it too much.

A week and three hook-ups later and Steve's locked in in his office. He feels horrible, but some things about Warren just don't add up and his paranoia is slowly kicking in. And so is his curiosity. He types the name into the blinking field, letter by letter. Slowly, so he won't make a mistake.

No data found.

Steve runs another program. And another.

He does not exist. Warren simply doesn't exist.

Steve leans back and rubs his eyes. He's so fucked.

Steve doesn't remember how he ended up on the living room of Warren's appartment, button-down torn and nose bleeding heavily. The cut above Warren's eyebrow bleeds as well, warm blood tickling down his cheeks and onto Steves neck.

Warren's hard and pressing against him as he raises his fist for another blow. Steve can't stop himself and laughter bubbles out of him, his ribs aching and hurt shooting, spiraling through his body. Warren, one ocean eye blue and lilac and a nasty scratch on his forearm, looks at him baffled.

"What is it, Haines?"

"The fuck", he's gasping for air, Warren's hard dick still poking his hip, "Do I know."

They look at each other while Steve's laugh is slowly ebbing away and Warren clenches his teeth. "I hate you, you fucking FIB-maggot."

"No, you don't", Steve rolls his hips up and Warrens eyelids flutter, "Not as much as I hate you, you fucking spy."

Warren rolls his hips against Steve's and his body falls forward, one hand lazily holding his weight, right next to Steve's head. He tilts his chin towards it and places soft kisses on the warm, thin skin that's between his teeth and Warren's veins. They both moan. He should kill him on the spot, getting rid of a potential threat and the competition all in one, but he can't bring himself to stop.

"Fuck me like you mean it", Warrens lips are pressed against his ear and his fingers claw hungrily at his chest, as he sighs needily into Steve's ear. He's ready to oblige.

The next time he sees Warren the sun's up again and the air is crisp and cold. He's wearing his leather jacket again and Steve wants to get up, head over to his table and tear it from his shoulders. Sanchez lights a cigarette and Dave says something stupid again, but Steve can't bring himself to care.

He looks at Warren, Fourteen, and his white shirt. The opened collar exposes his neck and the dark-red bitemarks. He inhales the smoke of his cigarette and as his lips wrap around it again he locks his gaze with Steve. His stomach tingles and 14 raises a brow. Cocky, arrogant, inviting and challenging. Steve feels one corner of his mouth tilting upwards as he leans back into his chair, legs spread wide.

Oh, this would be one fine game.

#i am liTERALLY LOSING CONTROL #my writing #steve haines/agent 14 #agent steve haines #agent 14 #gtao #gta online #gta v

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btsmosphere · 4 years ago

Text

Sparkle | JJK

~summary:

Jungkook may have been planning a little something... a powercut is only a small barrier

Jungkook x female!reader

~word count: 2.5k

~roommates au, friends to lovers, getting together, fluff

Rating: g

Warnings: irresponsible milk drinking(?), tons of fluff

~a/n: so I am taking part in a bingo writing challenge with @btsholidaybingo and this is the first of my bingo squares: ‘xmas lights’!! It’s a really fun challenge and I am working on a lot more to come!

At this time of night, when it’s not really night but it’s too dark to still be day, you can enjoy the Christmas lights. From your window, it feels as if you can see the whole city – your house is right at the top of the hill.

Right now, when you can turn your own light off and admire the multicoloured constellations sprawled across the valley, it’s nice. However, when you go to bed it’s a different story. In the darkness of your room at night, it’s all too easy for the festive glow to sneak around your curtains and keep you awake.

Jungkook’s cooking at the moment, so you don’t want to go out and see what kind of horrors are going on in your kitchen.

At least it means he’s taken his music with him. That’s the thing about Jungkook: he’s always surrounded by music. And really, you don’t mind it. In fact, it’s something you’ve come to love. It’s reassuring, knowing another living person is just next door even if you’re snowed under with work and haven’t seen him all day.

And if you haven’t seen Jungkook, it is a bad day indeed.

But at this time of night, when it’s not really night but it’s too dark to still be day, you will take the peace and enjoy the Christmas lights.

Blinking, you realise you zoned out. The lights were floating in your unfocussed vision, but you soon pulled your attention back in. Sweeping your eyes once more over the cityscape, you noticed a darker section.

Then another patch of lights blinked off.

Vaguely, your memory reminded you that was what had jerked you to attention a moment ago. Lights cutting out. It felt like they should merely flicker, and you watched, feeling as if you were in mid-air, waiting for the inevitable moment of meeting the ground again.

But instead, a whole new square of the city fell into darkness.

And then, suddenly, you were blinking, eyes protesting at the newfound dark you had been submerged in. You were frozen, for a second.

Then you whipped around, as if you would find something coming up behind you. Nonsense, really. Your room had already been in darkness to let you watch the lights.

Walking across the space with nothing but muscle memory, your hand stretched out, hesitantly groping for the light switch. When your fingers stumbled across it, you flicked it.

Nothing.

With a sigh, you flipped the switch back off and stuck your head from your bedroom door.

“Kook?”

Your voice came softer than you expected, probably not reaching down the hall. Just as you cleared your throat, the concerning sound of something clattering to the floor interrupted you.

Eyebrows shooting up, you went straight to investigate.

“Kook!” you called into the dark kitchen. As you squinted, you could make out a human-sized shape on the floor, “Are you okay?”

“I think the power went out,” his voice returned.

Though you rolled your eyes, a smile sprung irresistibly to your face.

“Yeah, I had noticed,” you chuckled, “do you need some help-?”

Stepping into the space, it seems your calculations were off. Jungkook was a lot closer than you had expected and your leg hit him, tripping you up. But before you could topple over, Kook’s hands materialised at your hips, pushing you upright again.

“Woah, hey,” he laughed breathlessly, “careful.”

Clambering up from his knees to stand in front of you, you could hear the charming smile he was flashing at you rather than see it. Flustered, you stepped back and away from his hold. For a moment longer, he seemed to forget himself before he dived back down to retrieve the bowl he had dropped.

“Right, well, er,” you struggled to collect your thoughts, “don’t open the fridge until the power comes back. Do we have any candles, or anything-“

“Wait, Y/N, I just started cooking! I need to put everything back in the fridge. What if I open it really fast?”

“I don’t know…” you admitted.

Standing side by side in the dark, staring at the fridge for some sort of answer, you never felt more like a student. Which, of course, you were, but you hadn’t felt this clueless about something since the first time you did your own washing in first year.

“Well, I already cooked the bacon,” Jungkook said, “so it’s really just the milk and cheese.”

“I suppose you could risk opening the fridge,” you shrugged.

“Maybe…” he was chewing his lip. You knew he was.

Sighing, you spun on your heel and headed towards the door again.

“I’m going to go and see if we have any candles, or something.”

Back in your room, you rummaged blindly in your drawer for your phone. Often, as today, you stored it in there to avoid getting distracted by it when you had work to do.

Thankfully, it lit up, but boasted pitifully low charge. You just had to hope it would last long enough for you to find an alternative light source.

Pressing the button for the torch, you started at your wardrobe, wondering if you had any candles left over from birthday presents tucked away. None there, or in your desk or underneath your bed. Resurfacing from between the dusty boxes you kept under there, you slumped back against your bed.

Casting your eye fruitlessly around your room once more, you heaved yourself to your feet.

“Kook, can I go look in your room?” you called, walking back down to the kitchen.

Instead of a response, though, you were met with a spluttering sound. Entering the room, your torch illuminated Kook, hunched over with a milk bottle in one hand. His other was covering his mouth.

“What are you doing now?” you asked, incredulous.

Lifting his head, he coughed once more, sending a single drop of milk down his chin. His shirt was also spattered with it. Tilting you head, you raised your eyebrows.

“Please tell me you’re not chugging our milk.”

“You said not to open the fridge,” he mumbled weakly.

“Oh my god…” you sighed. Unfortunately, you couldn’t help the sudden burst of laughter that overtook you when he gave you full puppy-dog eyes.

“You’re a mess, Jeon Jungkook,” you smiled, “go and get another sweater.”

“This is the only one you haven’t stolen!” he protested.

Biting your lip, you looked bashfully down at the large black jumper you currently had on. Maybe he was right.

A second afterwards, your phone light drastically dimmed. There it stayed for a moment longer as you met Kook’s eyes, before you were both sent back into darkness.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “okay. You can have this jumper, but you need to take that one off. And then we need to find some lights.”

Knowing you were under the cover of darkness, you lifted Jungkook’s sweater over your head and held it out for him. Standing in only your bra and jeans, you noticed the effects of the heating being down.

“Kook,” you shook the jumper in what you hoped was his direction, “take it, come on. I’m cooold.”

“S-sorry,” he stammered, fabric soon leaving your hand.

Trekking back through the hallway, Kook following you this time, you parted ways to go into your respective rooms. You made your way to your wardrobe again with arms outstretched and felt around, picking the first jumper you came into contact with.

“Tada!”

The shout came as you had just put one arm into the sweater. Jumping around, you were met with a bundle of lights and a beaming Jungkook lit up behind them.

“Oh- sorry,” his eyes suddenly grew very round and he turned his back before you could blink.

Tugging the jumper on with haste, you cleared your throat.

“You found lights, then?”

“Yeah, um,” he looked tentatively over his shoulder to confirm it was safe before turning to face you again, “my mum sent up Christmas decorations, remember?”

“Oh! I didn’t realise,” you said, beaming nonetheless, “how come we haven’t put them up yet?”

“Uh, just didn’t have the time, I guess,” he replied as you scooped up a battery pack and began untangling the fairy lights attached to it.

While you worked, a cute frown making its way onto your face as you fought against the knotted wires, Jungkook just watched you through the mass of glowing lights. At last, you got the end free, your victory dance shaking him from his stupor.

“Do you know any card games?” you asked, draping the string of lights around your neck as you did so.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“That’s what people do in power cuts, right?” you brushed past him.

“Um… I guess it is,” Jungkook followed you through to the living room.

Making a start by placing your string of lights along the back of the big sofa, you waited for Jungkook to join in. He was being awfully quiet. After a few moments, he did get the idea and placed the whole luminescent bunch onto the middle sofa cushion, beginning work on your vision.

“God, how many of these are there?” you laughed dryly when you pulled out the third battery pack.

“No idea,” he grimaced, “I thought you liked Christmas lights anyway?”

“I do,” you conceded, “I think they’re working better than candles would have, too.”

Eventually, the two of you had cocooned your living space in the lights. The nest of space between your sofa, rug and chairs was bathed in the warm white light. Stepping back, you couldn’t help but smile.

It was still too quiet, though.

“Are you alright?” you asked quietly.

“Hmm? Yeah,” Jungkook spoke, standing to join you observing your hard work.

“You just seem quiet,” you mumbled.

As if to prove your point, Jungkook let silence elapse between you. But, like always with you two, it was comfortable.

“Cards?” he prompted after a while.

“Oh, yes,” you remembered, tearing your eyes from the scene in front of you to the boy at your side, “do we… own a pack of cards?”

Lips parting in thought, he tilted his head to one side.

“We don’t, do we?”

At the same time, you both grinned, laughing softly. The sight of his smile only served to make yours wider.

“Blankets?” he proposed instead.

You quickly agreed. On your return to the living room, you laughed out loud, finding Jungkook holding out a wine glass full of milk for you.

“I could grate some cheese for dinner but that’s just depressing,” he gave a small smile.

Laughing loudly, you made a show of swirling the milk around your cup and sniffing at it like the tasters on tv, before sipping it.

However, Jungkook’s laughter cut off as he sunk down beside you, his fingers fidgeting around the stalk of his own glass.

“Kook, what’s going on?” you gently elbowed him, “you’re so quiet.”

“I, er,” he freed a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, “how about some music?”

“Yeah, okay,” you frowned, “but, Kook, the power’s out-“

“Just wait here, okay?”

And then he was gone before you could protest, practically running from the room.

Was something seriously wrong? You knew you had been busy lately, but you always tried to make time to see your flatmate. In all honesty, he was the highlight of your day, and you had to stop yourself from fantasising about being more than friends…

But right now, you were worried. Right now, it seemed like he needed a friend, but since when had he started acting like this?

Before you could get up and follow him, though, you heard his footsteps returning. Not a moment later, he rounded the corner with a guitar in his hand. Definitely not what you had been expecting.

“I didn’t know you played guitar,” you said. It surprised you; for all that you could hear his music from your room, you would have thought you’d have heard if he had been playing the guitar.

“I’ve been learning,” he didn’t quite meet your eyes, shuffling his feet.

“Okay,” you spoke slowly.

While you waited, he walked forwards and sat on one of the chairs facing you.

Just before he began, he looked up. Somehow your heart melted at his big eyes, heart already in your mouth for some reason.

And then his face was lit up in profile again, soft glow highlighting his features. As you gazed at him, unable to look away, his fingers began to pick out a soft tune. For someone so modest, he was incredibly skilled. Watching and listening in awe, your heart nearly burst when he started singing too.

His voice, though he sang softly, clearly a little nervous, floored you. And the words… he was singing about love, about a beautiful girl that made him happy, a girl he wanted to stay happy.

In your head, you had the privilege of imagining that girl was you.

All too soon, the song came to a close.

Staring at him, you held your breath to the last second before he relaxed, lowering his hand and putting his guitar to one side.

“That was beautiful, Kook,” you breathed.

But instead of responding, he stood, taking your gaze with him as he crossed to sit beside you on the sofa. A small smile curved his lips, a ghost of a laugh falling between them.

“I had a whole night planned out,” he waved his hand, “I was making carbonara, and-and I had all these decorations waiting in my room, I know you love them…”

While he took a deep breath, yours was completely stuck in your throat.

“I’m sorry about the, uh, the milk,” he chuckled, “it’s not exactly romantic, but… I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend?”

Finally having forced the words out, he looked nervously up at you with glistening eyes, no doubt thanks to your magical setup. He watched with that unwavering gaze as you tried desperately to form words in your head, simultaneously trying to process if you were in the real world at all.

“Please answer,” he whispered.

Until then you hadn’t noticed how impossibly close to each other you were. Until his words brushed against your lips.

Suddenly your brain caught up with itself, deciding this was real after all.

“O-of course,” you rushed out, tongue momentarily darting to your lips, “yes, yes!”

“Yes?” he repeated, eyes widening more, if that was possible, seeming in total disbelief.

With sudden bravery, you surged forwards, pressing your lips to his. Melting into the kiss, you felt his hands float up to your waist, hesitant at first until you kissed him harder, pulling him forwards with your hands fisted in the sweater you had recently given up.

Now he was kissing back with equal measures of hunger and tenderness, hands holding you firmly.

When you broke apart, exhilarated and reluctant to let each other go, you let your forehead fall against his.

“Yes.”

The grin he awarded you was brighter than all the lights around you. And later that night when the city burst into light again, barging past your curtains to interrupt your darkness, neither of you paid it any mind.

Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog if you did💜xx

@aianloveseven @preciouschimine

Contact me to be tagged in new work!

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thatesqcrush · 4 years ago

Text

Ivy & the Ink

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. For VDay bingo, using “Yayo” by Lana del Rey. The wonderful @beccabarba requested: Helloooo! When you have a moment to indulge me, and if you want to, I would love you to write Nevada x Reader in lingerie, with aim of seducing/impressing him (maybe they're a couple and they had a fight, or he's not noticed her before and she's determined he will? And he gives her everything he's got. "Let me put on a show for you daddy Let me put on a show Let me put on a show for you tiger, Let me put on a show... " Please and thank you.

CW: Smut - rough sex (hair pulling, some light smacking, spanking, etc.). There is some degradation talk, destruction of property, name calling, language.

WC: 4.3K

****

You frowned as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand; it was late and your boyfriend still hadn't arrived at your apartment. It was normal for Nevada to work late, even disappear for a stretch of time. But something about tonight felt different - felt off.

You reached for the phone and hit the redial number. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail and you sighed as you left yet another message. "Hey papi, it's me; I was just wondering where you were … it's lonely without you here. Just call me when you get this. I love you."

Your guts began to churn as your imagination raced; thoughts of Nevada hurt, or even worse, were the most prevalent. You opened your iPad and pinged his location. He was at the club, but earlier he had been at the airport. You furrowed your brows in confusion. ‘What the…?’ you wondered.

You grabbed a sweater off the back of the chair with one hand, and your keys with the other.

You were going to Nevada’s club.

Any other time, you would not have been so dramatic, but recently things had become more tense; you argued over the smallest of things. Nevada swore that all was fine between the two of you, but your paranoid side kept itching that something else was amiss.

As you drove through the dark streets of The Heights, a thought hit you. 'What if Nevada didn't want to come home?'

Despite the recent hiccups, you vowed to make things work, to make your lives together better because for you, Nevada was worth the sacrifice. He was the great love of your life that was never supposed to have happened in the first place – he was the one.

You met him while celebrating a friend’s bachelorette party - you had a one night stand with him and then on the ride home, you found yourself propositioned by him to be the Queen, to his King. To maintain appearances, you kept your place in Kew Gardens. Nevada had tried to convince you to live with him and let him be the provider for your life, but you refused. You enjoyed earning your own money and having a place of your own. You were loyal to him, but you wanted to keep your own independence.

The drive from Queens did not take as long as you had anticipated. Traffic was fairly light for a Friday evening. You arrived at the club and spotted his black Escalade parked underneath the streetlight. In your jeans and cardigan, you appeared out of place amongst the other club goers who were dressed to the nines. The line wrapped around the block, but you knew you would not have to wait.

You greeted one of the bouncers, while the rest of the club goers jeered at you and your innocent appearance. “Is Vada here?”

Miguel the bouncer, was burly and intimidating - but he didn’t frighten you one bit. He looked at you and didn’t greet you as he would have usually had.

“Vada’s here.” He replied after a beat, as he waved some people through.

“Last time I checked you weren’t made out of air. Can you move so I can get in?”

“I know for a fact he’s busy. Some personal stuff. You should go home.”

You furrowed your brows, fear lacing through you. Placing your hands on your hips, you jutted your chin at him. “You don’t tell Vada’s woman what to do.”

Miguel turned to you. He dipped his head to your ear, his voice menacing. “You don’t, but Nevada sure as hell does.”

You scoffed. “I am going in.” You pushed past him and he grabbed a hold of the back of your sweater. Instead you allowed for him to rip it off you, as you shoved the sleeves off. You gave him the finger before making your way inside.

Everything at the club was seemingly normal. The music was loud, you could feel it vibrating in your bones. You pushed your way through the mass of bodies to the staircase which led to Nevada’s private office on the second floor.

The door was opened just a crack and you could see Nevada leaning against his desk, smoking a cigar while in a heated discussion with someone else. This was all normal to you - with the work he was involved in.

A brunette woman approached Nevada and pulled him into a hug causing you to freeze. You expected him to push away, but instead, he returned the hug to this mystery woman. Nevada dipped his head to whisper something in her ear and when he pulled away, you saw him smile and brush her dark hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

Your heart pounded against your chest and you wanted to puke. Chewing on your bottom lip, you continued to watch, unable to turn away. The woman reached for a glass of amber liquid that you realized Nevada had poured her.

At that moment Nevada pulled away and looked at his watch before reaching for his cell phone. He raised a finger to her and the woman nodded watching him as he moved, probably to sit at his desk. Sure enough, your cell phone began to vibrate but you chose to ignore it.

You turned back to the stairs and made your way back down and pushed through to the bar. You grabbed a seat and ordered a beer. You did not recognize the bartender and you realized they must have been a new hire. You were grateful for not being recognized.

As you took a drag of your beer, the upstairs woman was standing beside you. She offered a friendly smile at you before signaling the barkeep. She ordered a shot of whiskey and handed a five dollar bill with the understanding that he could keep the change.

"You lost?"

You turned to her, eyeing the shot she had in her hand. "Excuse me?"

"Your outfit.” She laughed. “You don’t exactly fit in here."

You arched her brow at her comment. Chuckling, you nodded. "Not lost." With the tilt of your head, you chugged the beer and you tried hard not to grimace as the cheap, likely skunked beer made its way down your throat.

“So, man trouble?” She guessed.

“Something like that.” You commented as you ordered a shot of tequila.

You downed the shot, grimacing once more. You wiped your hand on the back of your hand and took in the woman fully. You could see what Nevada saw in her; the mere fact that she too had dark hair, like yours, was eating at you something terrible. Putting the glass down, you forced a sweet smile to the surface as you quickly scanned the bar for any instances of him returning. With no sign of him, you re-centered your focus, your eyes becoming sharp and steadying on her. "Do you have a boyfriend?”

"I do. He’s on his way. And something's got him in the mood tonight, if you get my meaning - he’s on his way actually. He’s like a drug; I can’t get enough.” she winked as she turned her head quickly, her shoulder length curls following her. You scowled as you gripped the glass tighter, your mind running.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the too-warm bar, but your hearing began to ring and your vision was white-hot. Ideas formulated and raced, seeking the perfect retribution. You were hurting, and the only way you could alleviate it would be to inflict that same pain on Nevada. And you knew just how to do it.

Now standing, you spotted Nevada as he approached the bar, the mystery woman waving to him emphatically. Your gaze was fixed on his line of sight, and you postulated that he didn't even see you. The excitement that the mystery woman held served as a knife burrowing deep into your heart, and the intense feeling of getting away increased.

"Hey, where are you going?" the mystery woman asked, turning back to you. You smiled once more and shook your head.

“Like you said, I’m lost. Nice talking to you."

Outside, you walked towards your car, the squeak of your sneakers being the only constant sound on the asphalt. Your intentions were clear now, and popping the trunk, you reached in to grab the aluminum baseball bat that you had been meaning to give as a gift for your nephew. Holding it in your hands, you gazed at the bat and felt the weight, swinging it to its full potential. With one hand, you closed the trunk and scanned the street, a devious smile crossing your lips. Your gait became easier as you approached, one thought being dominant as the gleaming Escalade that he so loved stood bathed in the street light.

For a split second, you paused. 'Come off it Y/N. You are better than this. This isn't you at all – you are putting everything on the line.' However, the thought left as quickly as it arrived. You could hear the woman’s comments echo in your mind and you couldn't help but think about what she said, about her and Nevada potentially sharing a bed – the bed you shared with him.

Rage filled you and at that moment, as your heart shattered into a million pieces, you swung the bat down, aiming for the headlights. The sound of glass shattering filled the night and clear crystals decorated the ground. Blood boiling,you swung once more, this time aiming for the side view mirrors. It took a few swings, but you were victorious in denting the metal and cracking the mirrors. Glass crunched underneath your feet as you continued your assault. The line of people still waiting to get in, gasped and shouted, lifting their phones to record you. You didn’t see it happen, but Miguel ran into the bar to get Nevada.

Moments later, you reached for keys that were dug deep in your pocket. You dug your key into the side of the door, scraping it. Figuring the damage you had inflicted still was not enough; you bent down and jammed the key into the back tire, puncturing it. Air hissed out of the tire and you moved to the front of the car, doing the same to the front tire.

You smiled in satisfaction as you took a step back to assess the damage you had done.

Nevada ran over to where you were standing, taking in the damage you had inflicted on his car. His eyes were wide and his face was beet red.

"Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?" Nevada yelled. You looked up and muttered an expletive as you dropped the bat, it clanking to the ground.

"What am I doing? I should be asking you the same thing! Actually, I don't have to since your whore told me what you two have been, and would be, doing!"

The mystery woman stepped out of the club and her eyes also widened as she recalled you from the bar.

"Puta!” You screamed as you grabbed the bat and swung at the car once more.

Nevada wrestled the bat out of your hands. Instead you chose to start punching and hitting him instead. He looked over his shoulder at Miguel. “Get Marisol out of here.”

“Oh that bitch has a name?” You shrieked once more. Nevada wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you easily off the ground.

"Let me go!" you furiously replied as Nevada dragged you back into the bar. "You cheated on me!"

Nevada was quiet as he dragged you up to the office. His blood was boiling and as he kicked the door in. He dropped you unceremoniously on the couch.

Nevada slammed the door behind him. “What the fuck Y/N!”

You looked at him incredulously, your eyes were red and swollen. “You cheated on me!”

Nevada sighed. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I saw you with my own eyes! I am not stupid!” You shouted. “When you didn’t come home, didn’t answer my texts, I tracked your phone. You were at the airport and then you came to the club. What is that all about? God, I can’t believe I let myself fall for you. I must be stupid after all!”

You were now openly sobbing on his couch. “I thought you loved me.”

Nevada raised his hands to the back of his head, his eyes wide; he shook in anger, his face was beet red. "I do love you, you fucking loca. She’s my cousin.”

You stared at him, hiccupping. “What?”

“She’s my cousin - she flew in to visit. She needed a ride from the airport since her boyfriend was put on a double. He’s a cop. I went to pick her up and then brought her here.”

“Your cousin.” You whispered. Everything suddenly made sense.

“I was not, nor would I ever, cheat on you. I want you, you crazy bitch.” Nevada grumbled.

“Then why was Miguel acting so shady?” You demanded. “He made it seem like I couldn’t be there.”

“Fuck if I know.” Nevada snorted. He poured himself a drink and then one for you. As he handed it to you, you eyed the blue inked snake tattoo on his forearm. You tilted the glass all the way back, drinking it in a single gulp. “You know your beer lines are skunked.” You replied quietly, still hiccupping.

“Noted.” Nevada replied quietly. He made a call, speaking in Spanish, which you didn’t understand. As he put his phone away, he sighed. “Let me take you back to Queens. They’re bringing up another car.”

Another black Escalade rolled up, identical to its predecessor - except not damaged. The ride was quiet and sufficiently awkward. Now in your apartment, Nevada shrugged off his clothes, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs. You washed your face and then shrugged off your clothes. Nevada climbed into the bed after you, and you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, exhausted.

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of eggs frying and strong coffee. You got out of the bed and followed the smell to the kitchen where Nevada was cooking.

You stood on your tip toes and peered around his shoulder. “Smells good.”

Nevada let out a grunt. You frowned and wrapped your arms around him from behind. “I’m sorry for last night.”

Nevada turned to you, and turned off the stove. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you.”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your eyes were lost in the green pool of his eyes.

“You hungry?” Nevada asked.

“In a little bit - I want to go shower.” You replied. “Start without me.”

Nevada nodded and plated some food before going to sit on your couch.

After you showered, you took your time trying to figure out what to wear. You pulled open your delicate drawer and began to leaf through the various garments. Your fingers traced over a lingerie set you hadn’t yet worn and you smiled.

Nevada was still puttering around the kitchen when you joined him once more.

“Hungry yet?” He called out from behind his shoulder, not looking over fully as he dumped the frying pan into the sink. You saw that he had a plate of food set for you but you weren’t hungry for that - not at least in that moment.

“Something like that.” You cooed. Nevada turned around and as he drank you in, the corners of his mouth twitched.

You wore a mauve babydoll chemise set with silver lace trim and rhinestones embellishments. There was a sheer wrapped skirt and a matching panty with a thick lace band and thong cut out. You hadn’t washed your hair, just freshened it up with dry shampoo and you left it loose, the way he liked it. Your face was bare, except for a sheer plum lip tint. For what you wanted to do, lipstick would have just gotten in the way.

“Is this for me mami?” Nevada asked. His eyes were darkened with lust and through his briefs, you could tell that his cock had come to life, already straining against the fabric.

“Yes papi.” You cooed. “I wanted to show how sorry I was for everything. Let me put on a show for you daddy.” You trailed a hand across your decolletage and then down to the swells of your breasts that were already pushed up to an obscene limit thanks to the underwire and padding of the bra.

“I should punish you.” Nevada growled. He didn’t miss how your eyes lit up at the suggestion. He took three wide strides to meet you. He ran a sole finger down your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed in response. That was short-lived as a sharp jolt of pain caused your eyes to fly open. Your head was bent to the side, your hair wound in Nevada’s fist.

“Yes.” You breathed out, a shot of arousal shooting through you. “I need you. Take me right now.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would cheat on you. Why would I do that, when I have these nalgas right here?” Nevada growled, using his other hand to pull you close by grabbing the flesh of your ass. He let loose his grip in your hair and his other hand joined in rolling the fat of your cheeks.

You could feel his hardened member press against the softness of your belly. The feeling caused your cunt to kick and your panties to dampen.

Nevada’s mouth dropped to the slope of your neck, the stubble of his beard grazing your skin. He sucked a dark mark into your skin. You let out a soft moan at the sensation as he continued to rub his beard against your skin, leaving rash marks in its wake.

He spun you around roughly, so your back was to his chest. You could feel the soft curls of his chest hair against your back. He cupped your tits roughly together, before pulling the cups down so your tits spilled out. He grabbed them roughly again, rolling and pinching your nipples until they were hardened buds.

You pushed back against his cock, gyrating in small circles. Nevada held you against him, his heavy, muscled arm wrapped around your chest. He used his foot to nudge your legs apart and his other hand went to your pussy. He gripped it hard and you let out a small squeak.

“This is my pussy, me entiendes?” Nevada growled in your ear.

You let out a gasp as he pushed your underwear to the side and sunk his fingers up and into you. The strokes were initially languid, but then they increased in speed. You lolled your head back and his mouth found your neck once more, sucking a bruise into your flesh.

Nevada removed his fingers from you and you whimpered. He brought his hand to your face and you could see the evidence of your arousal on his long digits. He released his other arm and brought his hand to your throat, gently tightening. He rubbed his fingers on your lips before pushing them roughly in your mouth. You let out a muffled moan as you cleaned his fingers.

“Muy bien.” Nevada growled. He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom. He wasted no time removing his briefs. His cock stood proud. The crown glistened with pre cum and you instinctively licked your lips, needing to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you down so that you were on your knees and eye level with his cock. “Open your mouth.” He dragged his cock across your lips and instinctively they parted, ready to take his length into your mouth.

“Open wide mama. Gonna make you choke on this cock.”

You let out a squeak as he smacked his cock against your cheek. You opened your mouth wider and Nevada fed you his cock. He wrapped his hands around the back of your head and he pushed into your mouth further until your nose was nestled against the soft curls of his pubic hair. Your tongue lavished every vein and ridge. You used one hand to stroke him as you bobbed along his length. Spit was dribbling from the corners of your mouth and down your lingerie

His hands gripped your head more tightly, holding you in place. Thrusting his hips forward, Nevada fucked into the back of your throat rough and fast, the sound of you choking and spluttering around him was drowned out by his grunts and groans. Spit covered your chin and your eyes watered, with tears running down your face. All you could do was close your eyes and take it. He took a step back and you gasped as air filled your lungs again. Nevada gave you a lascivious grin and he stroked your cheek, wiping a tear away.

“Such a good girl taking my cock like that.” He praised and you keened in response. He offered his hand and he helped you stand.

Nevada claimed your mouth his. It was rough, all teeth and tongue. He nibbled on your lower lip before sucking on it. When he released your mouth, he gripped your cheeks with his forefinger and thumb and squeezed.

“I am going to fuck you now and you’re going to thank me for it.” He released your face and then gave you a small tapping smack on your cheek.

You jutted your face at him and he did it again. “Get on the bed, loca.”

“How do you want me?” You asked as you scooted back on the bed.

“Por detrás. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You did so and got on all fours, anticipating Nevada’s next move. You felt the bed dip with his weight and felt his cock rub against your ass. You heard the cap of a bottle open, followed by the sound of him slathering his cock. Two fingers then pressed against you and in you, massaging your walls. You dropped your head forward, moaning slightly.

“Is that what my puta likes? Getting fucked?” Nevada hissed. His mouth was on your ass, biting your flesh, marking you once more.

“I need you.” You whined. “Give it to me.”

Nevada acquiesced and slid into your hot, wet cunt without warning, until he was fully seated. His hips nestled against the curve of your asscheeks and he gripped your hips hard. He set a pace, hard and fast as he wrapped a hand around your waist to pull you down onto his cock so it was nudging at your cervix with every thrust. He was deep and the stretch his girth gave you was glorious. A dreamy smile came across your face and you gripped the mattress below tightly. No one fucked you as well as Nevada did.

“Next time you think I would cheat on you, remember this.” Nevada growled as he drove his cock in and out of you. A sharp smack landed on your ass and then he repeated it on the other cheek, over and over again. The spanks that followed were delivered just as harshly, maybe even more so. He purposely hit your skin in the same areas as before. Your ass was red, hot and stinging.

“Fuck, oh yes, papi!” you whined. Nevada chuckled darkly. He had a knowing smile on his face.

“You want to cum, huh, mama?”

“Please.” You begged. A hand slipped from your hips and found your clitoris, rubbing roughly.

“You wanna cum on papi’s cock?” he asked once more, his breathing staggered.“Alright ma’, you can cum.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond as your walls clenched violently around his cock, gripping as your orgasm washed over you.

As you came down from your high, Nevada had pushed you all the way down onto the bed, his weight completely on top of you. The changed position meant his thrusts were more shallow. You relished the feel of him on you. Primal, animalistic grunts were in your ear as he chased his own release.

You felt his hips still and with a roar, he pushed into you once more, spilling his hot load into you.

Nevada leaned up on his arms, so his weight wasn’t fully on you. He pressed a kiss along your sweaty back before flopping over onto his back. You felt him pull you into his arms and you just allowed yourself to curl into him.

“Vada?” You murmured, as you stroked his chest hair.

“Yeah, mama?”

You looked up at him. “I’m sorry for everything, but especially for fucking up the car. Is it completely damaged out?”

Nevada shook his head as he sat up and grabbed a cigar from the stand next to you. He blew out a puff of smoke. “Nah, I got someone fixing it up already. By tomorrow it’ll be good as new.”

“I owe your cousin an apology.”

Nevada grunted. “You make one hell of an impression Y/N.” He pulled you tightly against him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

FIN

*****

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @dreamlover31 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @qvid-pro-qvo @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @wanniiieeee @tintinxtintin

#nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez imagine #nevada ramirez and you #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada ramirez smut #thatesqcrushvdaybingo

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chrismho · 4 years ago

Text

IR Week: Don’t Get Caught

Summary: Ichigo sneaks into the Kuchiki Manor to be with his girlfriend. A quick one-shot for Ichiruki week. Sheer and utter nonsense, I hope you enjoy it lmao

All was quiet at the Kuchiki Manor, save for the gentle, steady chirping of crickets. The night was a cool and clear one.

Suddenly, a tall, spiky-haired figure emerged out of flash-step, silhouetted in the moonlight. He landed noiselessly on the porch, slinking up to the door to knock as quietly as he could.

“Hey,” he whispered slyly to the petite, raven-haired woman who answered.

“Hey, yourself,” Rukia replied in a voice just as hushed, pulling him into a quick kiss before putting a finger to her lips and sneaking him back to her room.

_____

Ichigo gently kissed the sleeping woman cradled in his arms and heaved out a content sigh. They had been doing this for a while, now; with Rukia busy with the many responsibilities of being a Lieutenant, and he himself bogged down with the workload of a freshman college student, it was getting hard to find time to be together. It was usually Rukia making the trip to the Human World to see him, and it dawned on Ichigo that that probably wasn’t fair. And so began these usually spontaneous nightly excursions to Soul Society. Rukia was apprehensive at first, but Ichigo proved to be stealthy; sneaking past the guards and servants was cakewalk, and he had recently started getting better at learning to control and lower his reiatsu so Byakuya didn’t catch on. Besides...it was fun sneaking around. The clandestine nature of their meetings made them all the more romantic and exciting. They didn’t always make love when he came to the Manor. Sometimes all they wanted was each other’s company. They’d lay side by side in her bed and talk in hushed voices about anything and everything until the sun rose.

Tonight, however, was not that kind of night, the rumpled sheets and scattered clothing serving as pointed evidence.

Ichigo recalled all that went down in her room tonight, unable to stop the devilish grin that spread across his face. Yeah, tonight was pretty perfect.

Well...almost perfect.

It was just that...Ichigo Kurosaki was thirsty.

It was his thirst that had woken him up, probably. He tried to ignore it, but his lips were dry and chapped and it was getting hard to swallow. Sweet, cool, water sounded more amazing than anything in the world at the moment. He tried to draw out a map of the Kuchiki Manor in his head. He vaguely remembered a kitchen down the hall to the left, there had to be something to drink there.

I’ll be careful, he thought. In and out.

The first grave mistake of the night committed.

Slowly, as to not wake her, he untangled himself from Rukia and slipped his yukata on. She was a heavy sleeper, and only stirred slightly. He kissed her forehead before quietly padding out of her room and into the hall.

He sighed in relief when he correctly located the kitchen and spotted a pitcher of cucumber water, cool and inviting. Quietly taking a clay cup from a cabinet, he filled it to the brim and chugged.

Satiated and pleased that his mission was successful, Ichigo turned back to the hallway-

FUCK.

There were three hallways facing him, each identical to the other, and each with a row of identical doors along the wall.

Which one...which one did I come out of again?

He cursed Byakuya for choosing to live in such a large and Byzantine estate.

After some time recalling his various visits here, Ichigo correctly determined that it was the center hallway he had come from. He walked through the hallway, a vague feeling of dread and unease washing over him.

So many doors…

Which one was Rukia’s?

Bingo! A door looked familiar, and the uneasiness vanished.

“This one’s...definitely it!” Ichigo thought to himself, opening it a crack.

The second grave mistake of the night committed.

The bedroom was almost identical to Rukia’s. Almost. It’s a shame Ichigo didn’t notice the portrait of Hisana hanging on the left wall.

In the bed, a head of soft, raven hair peeked out from under the covers. Already hazy with sleep, Ichigo stripped his yukata off and climbed into the bed, slinging an arm over the sleeping body next to him and pulling it close.

Ichigo’s eyes flashed wide open. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

This...Ichigo experimentally patted and squeezed the taught, muscular arms he was snuggled up against, his heart racing with horrific realization….this doesn’t feel like Rukia…

Oh my God.

“OH, SHIT-” Ichigo barely finished his scream before Byakuya shot straight up and flung the boy out of his bed and onto the floor, zanpakuto somehow already in his hand and pointed at Ichigo’s throat.

“KU….,” Byakuya tried to muster out, wide-eyed and seething with rage and confusion. In all of the time he had seen and known Rukia’s adopted brother, Ichigo had never seen Byakuya so violently perturbed.

“KUROSAKI.”

“BYAKUYA, BYAKUYA, OH GOD, PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN!” Ichigo screamed in a panicked rush, shooting both hands up appeasingly. “PLEASE BYAKUYA, there’s a perfect explanation for all of this, I SWEAR to you, PLEASE, BYAKUYA, J-JUST HEAR ME OUT. ”

The noble’s eyes remained wide and horror-stricken but he moved his zanpaktou away from Ichigo and instead held it against his chest so that the blade pointed against the floor.

They stared at each other.

Ichigo took a breath and began, “Y’see, I thought you were Rukia-”

Byakuya dropped his sword. “Bankai.”

A chaotic flurry of deadly pink chased the naked Ichigo out of the manor. “WHY,” he bellowed to himself as he sprinted under the moonlight, the sakura petals not far behind. “WHY, DID I THINK THAT WAS A GOOD EXPLANATION?!?!!?”

End.

#ichiruki #ichiruki week #ir week #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #bleach au #ichiruki fanfic #ichiruki fanfiction #lmao this is such a load of nonsense #I ENJOYED WRITING IT SO MUCH

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