#one day i wanna be in one of these background shots so bad. but i havent been to the rift in a while i missed my chance :(

[idiopath-fic-smile]

[more leverage ot3, as a way of saying thank you for supporting my audio drama pilot Kickstarter, which is at like 98%(?!?) thank you!]

They had a busy morning laying the foundation for some future capers, and Elliott's headache evaporated in the face of several hours' good, hard work—and okay, maybe there was a possibility the painkillers had helped too. What was this, an interrogation?

Elliott was posing as a tech bro asshole for a big operation next week against a billionaire with an above-average vetting process, and that meant laying down a convincing online presence—not just a LinkedIn page but a personal website, full socials, and even a Yelp account. Most of that shit Hardison could do in his sleep, but for reasons surpassing fucking understanding, Hardison was insisting on taking new photos.

"What does it matter," said Elliott through gritted teeth. "You've already got what you need to photoshop me building the goddamn rocket myself if you want."

"Yeah, but these days, everyone's pics are messed with," Hardison shot back. "Filters, bogus backgrounds, the haunted fever dream of Frankensteining other peoples' stolen IP we call AI—"

"Not a single evil robot in sight," Parker confirmed. "I was promised evil robots."

"By who?" said Elliott. "And why?"

"The same reason Kasparov played Deep Blue," said Hardison with a shrug. "Anyway, verisimilitude is the word of the day. How do we make your fake profile stand out? Easy, we don't fake it." He held up his camera. "Now. Show me your good side."

Instinctively, Elliott turned to the right.

"No, this is his good side," said Parker, who surely had better things to do than hanging out to Elliott's left, munching on snack mix and occasionally glancing at the building's schematics.

Hardison swooped back and forth with the camera. Click click click. "Man," he muttered, "it is just not fair that someone as grumpy as you has two good sides. Think I need to speak with God's manager."

Elliott smiled with his eyes, just to be obnoxious.

.

"What do you wanna do for lunch?" Parker asked around noon. They were on the couch—Hardison on one end, Elliott on the other, Parker stretched out between them with her feet almost in Elliott's lap. She was still eyeing the schematics, but her eyebrows had returned to their standard position, suggesting she had found several ways in and just needed to pick one.

Her toes were a little gnarled, like a dancer's toes were gnarled. Elliott had once dated a prima ballerina; foot rubs had been the currency of their relationship. He did not have a thing for feet but the arch of Parker's instep was right there, and it looked tense. He imagined coaxing away the tightness, her involuntary little sigh as the muscles relaxed under his hands.

Elliott looked away. Looked back at Hardison, who was smiling as if he'd managed to hack Elliott's mind, too, and didn't at all mind what he saw there.

"What makes you think I'm free?" said Elliott, with more bite than he intended. "It's been hours. Could've made plans."

"But did you?" said Hardison annoyingly.

"We could cook omelettes again," Parker offered, which took a lot of nerve given that her whole damn involvement last time had been retrieving and then juggling the eggshells. Elliott had rarely seen her so light-hearted.

Hardison smiled again, slow and genuine. "Wouldn't mind revisiting that morning," he said, which made Parker sit up and grin, and it was so—it was—Elliott might as well have stared directly at the sun. Heat and brightness and the promise of never seeing clearly again.

Elliott stood and dug in his jacket for his keys. "Back in an hour," he said. "Eat without me."

All the way down to the ground floor, he reminded himself why it was a bad idea to sleep with Parker and Hardison. Of course, it was a bad idea to have already done it, but Elliott was too goddamn late on that count.

Because one night a month ago, when Elliott had been about to leave, Parker had laid a hand on his arm, light as a pickpocket, and Hardison had said, "You don't have to. Go, I mean," without a trace of smugness—without any proximity to a punch line—and Elliott had thought: okay. Apparently, Parker and Hardison's bedroom life was in an experimental phase, and the upshot was that Elliott would finally have a chance to get it out of his system.

All of it, and there was a lot of "all" by that point.

Elliott had been doing just fine not knowing how either of them looked or sounded when they came, not knowing that Parker was exactly that athletic and determined in bed, not knowing that Hardison was surprisingly generous, not knowing that both of them were capable of looking at him like they'd won some kind of damn prize—

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Obviously, he needed to rise above the needling bullshit, the we know you don't have anything else going on that was apparently hilarious to them both. What the fuck else did they want from him, at this point? Couldn't it be enough that he was willing to take a hit for both of them? Did anyone really need to ask why?

The door swung open. Elliott stepped out into the sunshine, keys in hand. He'd parked two blocks away. He was just looking over at his car when, with no warning at all, it exploded.

For the wnip meme if you're still taking them - no idea if you've seen Leverage (and no worries if not, of course), but I'd live for your Ready For Love / IDOAG-style take on the Leverage OT3, no matter the plot. The snark! The noodle incidents! The yearning potential always inherent in established-het-couple-plus-life-partner! It would be great.

oh my gosh, this is an amazing prompt and i love leverage!!! my first thought was that it would actually be very funny to put Elliott in a close-to-identical spot as Cosmo in Ready For Love, and then, uh. this happened:

The irritating thing about Hardison and Parker—

Well, there were plenty of irritating things about Hardison, too many to name, and at least two about Parker. Hers were the way she ate when she was feeding herself (Elliott still wasn’t over the time he’d walked in on her sprinkling Frosted Flakes onto a piece of pizza. “What?” she’d said. “It’s fortified with vitamins and minerals”) and the way she threw herself into danger even when Elliott was right there to take the hit. But the most annoying thing about them as a couple was that they had no shame, about anything.

“Anniversary cruise next month,” Hardison announced when Elliott slunk into headquarters on Monday morning, nursing a headache he’d been assured was not a concussion. “You coming?”

“I—am I coming,” Elliott repeated. “To your anniversary cruise?”

“Of course he is,” said Parker, dropping upside down out of the ceiling. “We already hacked into his calendar, he’s free.”

Elliott pinched the bridge of his nose, temples pounding. There were many, many things he could’ve said just then, chief among them “Seriously, again?” or “What is your goddamn addiction to having a third wheel around?” or “Do you two get off on being fucking pined at?” or even just a classic “Dammit, Hardison.” For reasons that surpassed his own goddamn understanding, what he said was,

“Next month’s not your anniversary.”

Parker flipped and landed soundlessly on her feet. “Yes it is,” she said. “September 16.”

“No,” said Elliott, with way more patience than they deserved, “y’all got together in August. August 28th.”

Hardison blinked. “Dude, you memorized our anniversary?”

Shit. Elliott could’ve hit himself. He had no cover, for knowing something like that. No real explanation, except for how closely he watched them.

“Well, you weren’t gonna do it!” Elliott blustered.

“Hey now,” said Hardison, “I think—I think I resent that. How could you believe I’d forget one of the most important days of my life?”

“Because you just did!” snapped Elliott.

Parker appeared at Elliott’s side (literally appeared; he hadn’t tracked the approach at all) with a bottle of painkillers, which she shook meaningfully.

“What?” said Elliott.

“I think she means ‘for the headache you’re suffering through for no good damn reason,’” Hardison suggested.

“Taking too many isn’t good for you,” said Elliott.

“Pain also isn’t good for you,” said Parker, and wasn’t that the truth?

“Oh, for god’s sake, gimme that,” said Elliott, pouring out two pills and swallowing them dry.

Hardison shook his head. “Why do you even have to be macho about how you take your Tylenol?”

“At any rate, we’re booking tickets for September,” Parker reported. “Three tickets, unless you’re busy. Which you’re not.”

“Because I’m coming on your anniversary cruise,” said Elliott disbelievingly.

“There, I think he’s catching on!” said Hardison. He and Parker high-fived.

See? Fucking irritating.

[risingsunresistance]

"but maybe we'll cover [dungeon lore] in another video" PLEASE PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE OH MY GOD PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE

[wol-fica]

sabrina cockwarming g!p reader pls and ty

-👽

Put On A Show

summary - ^

warnings - dom!sub, p in v, g!p reader, g!n reader, a teeny bit of crying, riding(sab)

an - i’m enjoying these little drabbles (hello 👽!)

——————————

Sabrina whined softly in your ear, her warm breath fanning out over your bruised shoulder that she was previously biting. She was seated in your lap, her cunt stretched around your cock while you ran your hands along her almost naked body.

Earlier, she had expressed her sexual frustrations to you, saying she had been horny all day and wanted to ride your dick till the day she dies, but you had other plans for her. Once you were back in your apartment, you had made sure to give her no time to think before ruining her; bending her over your couch and giving her the best back shots of her life before ending up where you were now.

Soon she was all fucked out, dumb and drooling against your shoulder while she was stuffed with your cock. Your favorite movie was playing in the background, a few chuckles leaving you here and there when something amusing happened, but other than that you were both still.

“Still doing okay, love?” You asked, gently running your fingers through her thick locks.

The blonde nodded, pressing her face into your shirt to suppress her pants. You patted her lower back to soothe her, kissing the shell of her ear as you carefully readjusted. She gasped erotically, scratching her nails along your back from the movement.

“Fuck baby…it’s like you’re trying to tease me.” Sabrina groaned, clutching you a little tighter as you pushed her hips down.

“Wasn’t my intention, gorgeous.” You replied, running your fingertips up her spine.

She placed her hands on your shoulders, shakily pushing herself upright until she was face to face with you. Her blue eyes were hazy and tear filled, threatening to spill out and ruin her pristine makeup. There were teeth marks on her lips, probably from when you were nailing her against the couch, and her cheeks were flushed a dark blush that oddly made her look a little flustered.

She met your gaze, a small smile appearing on her features before she sat back fully onto you. The air was pushed out of her throat, a breathy exhale that had your heart throbbing aggressively.

“Oh my god…” She breathed , subtly rolling her hips, “You feel so good baby…”

You moaned softly, running your thumbs along her hip bone. Her skin was warm under your touch, radiating heat from her pent up pleasure. You pushed the oversized t-shirt she had on up her torso, revealing her toned abdomen glistening in the lamp light. The muscles in her stomach flexed with each rock of her hips, and a noticeable bulge appeared every time she rolled backwards. Your eyes widened slightly from the view, especially when Sabrina took the hem of her shirt from you, pulling it up even more to expose her breasts.

“Like what you see?” She purred, one hand reaching up to fondle her own nipple, “All yours to look at, baby.”

“Hm, yeah?” You quipped back, settling back into the pillows of the couch, “Wanna give me a show beautiful?”

She responded with a small “hmm” before raising her hips slightly and dropping back down. She fell into an easy rhythm, expertly moving her body in such a way that was almost artistic to her own. Her head fell back, giving you full access to her body in front of you. You moved to reach for her chest, but she quickly grabbed your wrist and replaced it at her hip.

“Look, don’t touch.” She growled, meeting your surprised gaze, “You had your control, now I get mine.”

You nodded, returning to your relaxed posture. Sabrina smiled, leaning down and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. She grinded her hips against yours, humming in satisfaction when you groaned from the pleasure. Her velvety walls were tight around you, squeezing in all the right places and at all the right times.

“Couldn’t make it any harder for me, Sab.” You grunted, now panting along side her, “You have no idea how bad I want to touch you.”

“Oh fuck…just like that baby…” She moaned, letting her composure crack slightly when you accidentally bucked your hips up.

You gasped when she started to roll in a peculiar way, her lips moving as if she was mouthing words. You soon realized she was spelling with her hips, different words and phrases that made your eyes roll from the stimulation.

“That good, babe?” She questioned, her hands now squeezing her breasts with each movement, “Jesus H Christ…you’re so bIG!”

She cut herself off with a squeal, her eyes rolling when she turned her hips slightly to the side. She froze on that position, gently rocking her hips around with pitiful whimpers. You watched in pure awe, smiling in an almost drunk-like state while she worked.

“Found the good spot, huh.” You sighed, squeezing the fat of her ass when she moaned in response, “Doing such a good job, baby.”

“Mmph~.” Sabrina mewled, and you felt a gush of wetness cover your length.

“Oh, love.” You cooed, letting her fall into your chest, “I’ve got you.”

She moaned softly as you laid back full against the cushions, settling into your warmth when you ran your hands along her legs. You pressed a few kisses to her hair, nuzzling your nose into her with a gentle hum. She smelled like home, her pheromones invading your senses quite quickly as her body relaxed.

“Do you want me out?” You asked, reaching down to pat her lower back, “Or stay in?”

“In.” Sabrina mumbled, locking her knees on both sides of your waist.

You chuckled, replying with a quiet “Okay” before pulling a blanket off of the side of the couch and over both of your spent bodies. The movie was still playing on the tv, and with how exhausted she was, Sabrina fell right asleep in your arms.

How perfect.

—————————

delicious

[dckweed]

tiktok made me do it! gf vs tf141 bf..(vacation edition)

recap of my week: passed the 911 dispatchers exam with a 92.50% AND got the interview with the PD i wanted to interview for..im currently on day four of a migraine and had to call out of work because I need to go to the dr because my rescue pills haven’t even touched it..how was your guys’ week so far?

Vacations were supposed to be relaxing.

Sunshine. Crystal-clear water. Not being shot at for once.

That’s why you and your boyfriend—along with the rest of Task Force 141—were currently enjoying a well-deserved getaway at a tropical resort.

It was perfect.

Until you walked outside and saw your battle-hardened, highly-trained, special forces soldier of a boyfriend absolutely sloshed in the hot tub, belting out "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid at the top of his lungs.

Captain Price – "M’also in love."

Price was deep into his cups.

Whiskey bottle resting on the side of the hot tub. Shirtless. Chest hair glistening.

And absolutely slumped, letting the bubbling water carry him like a goddamn prince of the sea.

The second you step onto the patio, you hear it—

"I wanna be where the people are—"

You freeze.

Price lifts his arms, sloshing water as he gestures toward the sky.

"I wanna see—wanna see ‘em dancin’—"

Your jaw drops.

"John—"

He slowly turns his head.

Blink, blink.

"Sweetheart." His words are slurred, cheeks flushed from the booze.

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

The whiskey bottle tips over.

You stare at it.

You stare at him.

"John."

"M’a grown man, love. I can handle a bit of—" He gestures wildly and sloshes a tidal wave of hot tub water onto the patio.

"You absolute menace—"

Price just smiles lazily, reaching for you. "C’mere, love. Lemme hold ya. I’m floatin’—"

You sigh, shaking your head. "You’re sloshed."

"M’also in love," he declares, grinning up at you. "Come float w’ me."

You do.

(And get soaked in the process.)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "That’s your tequila, baby.."

Gaz is fully stretched out, floating like a goddamn starfish.

"Look at this stuff…" His voice is soft, dramatic, as he raises his hand, water dripping between his fingers.

"Isn’t it neat?"

You peek out from behind your phone, already recording.

Soap and Ghost are dying in the background.

"Mate," Soap wheezes, "he’s gone."

"Aye," Ghost mutters, shaking his head, "fuckin’ tragic, innit?"

You finally step forward. "Kyle?"

He blinks, grinning lazily. "Baby!"

You cross your arms. "What are you doing?"

"I just—" He sloshes forward dramatically, grabbing your hands. "—wanna be where the people are, babe. The sea is callin’ me—"

"You are in a chlorinated hot tub."*

Gaz squints. "…Aye, but it’s a salty hot tub."

"That’s your tequila, baby."

Gaz stares at the drink in his hand.

Blink, blink.

"…Oh."

You laugh, dragging him out before he actually starts believing he’s a mermaid.

Simon "Ghost" Riley – "See ‘em dancing.."

Ghost doesn’t get drunk often.

But when he does?

He feels the music.

You step onto the patio just in time to witness your big, bad, terrifying boyfriend gripping the edge of the hot tub like he’s about to belt his soul out on Broadway.

And then—

"I wanna see—wanna see ‘em dancin’—"

Your brain blue screens.

Ghost pauses, blinking up at you.

Blink, blink.

Silence.

Then, very quietly—

"…Shit."

You just grin. "Simon Riley. Are you drunk and singing The Little Mermaid right now?"

"No."

You point at Soap, who is recording from the shadows.

Ghost’s jaw clenches. "MacTavish."

Soap, grinning: "Aye?"

Ghost stands up.

Soap runs.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "wanna be where you are."

Soap has had one too many mojitos.

You step onto the patio just in time to hear—

"What’s a fire, and why does it—what’s the word BURN?!"

He clutches his chest, staring dramatically into the distance.

…He’s fucking crying.

"Johnny—"

"BABE." He whirls, water splashing everywhere. "She just wants more—"

"Are you crying?"

"IT’S SAD!"

You wheeze, grabbing a towel. "Alright, Sebastian, let’s get you to bed—"

"NO."

He pouts, reaching for you. "Come w’ me, lass. Be part of me world—"

"Johnny, you are soggy—"

"I WANNA BE WHERE YOU ARE—"

Ghost, from the shadows: "She should’ve fuckin’ left you there."

Moral of the Story:

Your tactical soldier of a boyfriend?

Yeah. He’s an absolute mess.

And now?

You have video proof.

[dearlenore]

BAMBI. / S.REID / SUMMARY - Spencer meets a young criminal law student

PAIRING: allison!grey x spencer reid / w/c: 2.0K / fluff

a/n: I wanna make this a series so bad, also credit to @cheriesbucky for inspiring me to share my oc!!<3 not proofread I fear…

The moment Spencer Reid stepped onto the Princeton campus, a familiar chill ran through him—not from the weather, though early April still bit through his coat—but from memory. These kinds of places never changed. The stone buildings. The tightly-trimmed lawns. The buzz of students too smart for their own good and not nearly as smart as they’d one day believe.

He wasn’t sure why he said yes when Rossi asked him to come along. It wasn’t like his presence was necessary—David Rossi could give a criminology seminar in his sleep, probably had before. But when the invitation came from the university, and Rossi offered a guest seat beside him on the panel, Spencer heard himself agree before he could figure out why.

Maybe it was nostalgia. Or maybe it was the ache—something deep and slow that settled in his chest more often these days, like a ghost of something he couldn’t name.

The lecture hall was warm, filled with the scent of dusty books, coffee cups, and a kind of hunger that only academic places carried. Spencer followed Rossi inside and took the side seat near the stage, where he could fade into the background. His eyes flicked around, scanning students who leaned over notebooks and laptops, whispering to one another in anticipation. Most didn’t recognize him. A few stared a moment too long, perhaps uncertain where they’d seen his face before.

Then he saw her.

Front row, dead center. Small. Maybe five-foot-five. Pale blue cardigan slipping off one shoulder, an open notebook resting delicately on her lap, even though she hadn’t written a single word yet. She was staring at Rossi like he was reading a poem. Not with infatuation—no—but fascination. Her eyes were wide, lit from inside with something he couldn’t place.

Curiosity. Eagerness. Maybe both.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her pen in thought. The motion was small, almost automatic. And yet, it stuck in Spencer’s mind longer than it should have.

He forced himself to look away.

Rossi launched into his introduction, commanding the room with the ease of a seasoned profiler. “Who here knows the difference between an M.O. and a signature?” he asked.

A few hands shot up, and then—hers.

Spencer watched her from the corner of his vision. Noticed the way she hesitated for a second before raising her hand all the way, like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to speak.

“You,” Rossi called.

Her voice was soft. Musical. “M.O. is the method an offender uses to commit the crime—practical things. Signature is the psychological need they fulfill through specific acts. It’s not necessary to commit the crime, but it satisfies something deeper.”

Rossi nodded, clearly (at least mildly) impressed. “Textbook answer.”

Spencer found himself leaning forward.

Later, after the seminar ended and students began packing up their bags, she lingered. Most of the audience swarmed Rossi, shoving copies of his books at him for autographs or asking questions they could’ve Googled. But she stood a few feet away, notebook in hand, staring at the crowd intensely, as if deep in thought.

He should’ve left it alone.

But something about her kept pulling at him—an invisible string he couldn’t stop tugging.

“You asked a question earlier,” he said, calling out to her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “About signature behavior.”

She blinked up at him, startled at first, then visibly relaxing. “I did.” Her eyes flicked across his face. “You’re Dr. Reid, right?”

He nodded. “That’s me.”

“I’ve read a few of your papers,” she admitted, cheeks flushing pink as she smiled. “Especially the one on spatial-temporal patterning and ritualistic homicides. It’s… a little terrifying….But brilliant of course! Really brilliant!”

The panicked praise made something flutter in his chest, a reaction he didn’t quite expect. “Thank you. Most people don’t make it past the abstract.”

“I liked your footnotes,” she said, laughing a bit. “They read like side conversations. Almost like you’re thinking out loud.”

He smiled back before he realized he was doing it. “That’s… probably because I was.”

She laughed again—a small, bright sound that curled around his ribs and stayed there, placing itself as if he’d been missing it all along.

“I’m Allison,” she said.

“Allison,” he repeated. Her name fit her. Gentle. Old-fashioned in a soft way. “Are you majoring in criminology?”

“Psych and criminal justice,” she said. “Double major. I want to work with children who’ve experienced trauma. Maybe help them testify in court…. Or maybe just help them survive it. I’m only human.”

That stopped him for a moment.

So young. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-three or twenty-four. And yet, her voice didn’t waver when she said it. She meant every word. She’d sounded like him at that age.

“That’s… admirable,” he said, quieter now. “And difficult.”

“I know.” She laughed awkwardly again. “But I’ve seen what happens when no one helps them.” Allison flashed a small awkward tight lipped smile.

Spencer studied her. She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t ask.

“I’m surprised you’re not one of Rossi’s groupies,” he offered lightly.

She shook her head. “He’s brilliant, but a little… intimidating. You’re a lot less scary and official looking… plus you’re not selling yourself so I just assumed I could relate to you more than him.”

Spencer laughed. “You’d be surprised. I’m just bad at it.”

She tilted her head. “I think that’s why I like your writing. You don’t try to convince anyone—you just share what you know. Like a polite invitation into your brain.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

There was a pause—brief, but thick. Students filtered out around them, filing toward the doors, laughing and shouting about midterms. But Spencer stood still. And so did she.

“I’m headed to the arts building,” she said, finally breaking the quiet. “They’re holding a mini recital in the quad. I’m playing violin with some of the kids from the local elementary school. It’s kind of chaotic, but… cute.”

He almost said goodbye.

Almost.

But instead—“Do you mind if I come?”

She blinked. “You want to?”

“I like violin.”

That made her smile again. Something sparkled in her eyes. “Sure. But only if you’re okay with tambourines and maracas interrupting every other note.”

“I’ve worked crime scenes next to train tracks and screaming neighbors,” he said. “I think I’ll manage.”

After Spencer had excused himself, they walked side by side through campus. The wind tugged at her cardigan again, and she didn’t bother fixing it. Her hair blew into her face, and when she laughed, it was as if the whole quad leaned in to listen.

They didn’t talk much as they walked across the quad.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt easy—like they’d done this before in some other life. Spencer glanced at her from time to time, watching how she tucked loose hair behind her ears, how her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her violin case. She was nervous, maybe. But not because of him.

“Do you perform often?” he asked, his voice breaking the hush of spring wind.

“Only for things like this,” she replied. “The kids are part of a music therapy program downtown. Some are neurodivergent, some have anxiety, and a few are dealing with grief. Music helps….Even if it’s messy and loud.” Allison chuckled to herself, a small smile playing at her lips.

Spencer nodded. “There’s research to support that. Auditory rhythm can activate the limbic system and regulate emotional response.”

She glanced up at him, smiling. “You’d love our practice room. Pure chaos.” Allison made a cut air motion. “But their smiles make it worth it.”

When they reached the grass clearing near the art building, there were folding chairs set up in uneven rows, half-filled with local parents and students bundled against the breeze. Children buzzed around like bumblebees, laughing and crashing tambourines together, each sound a wild burst of joy.

Spencer hesitated at the edge of the group. His coat felt too formal, his shoes too polished. He never quite knew how to be casual, especially around people who moved so easily through the world.

“Want to sit?” she asked, gesturing toward an empty bench near the front.

“I’ll watch from here,” he said. “Better view.”

Allison gave him a quick smile, then moved to join the kids. One little boy immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, and she bent to hug him, laughing softly as he clung. Another girl handed her a bright red plastic maraca.

“She’s gonna play the pretty song again,” the girl told her.

“Only if you help me with rhythm,” Allison replied, crouching down to their level.

Spencer watched, unable to look away.

The violin came out of its case like something sacred. She tuned it quickly—gently—before resting it on her shoulder. The first note drifted out into the air like breath, soft and golden. Not perfect, not polished. But real.

The children chimed in soon after, their percussion wild and unsynchronized, but she never corrected them. She let them play. She let them be. And somehow, the mismatched rhythm and sharp off-beat clapping wove itself into something whole. Something alive.

Spencer sat still, arms folded, heart unexpectedly full.

She was luminous like this—wrapped in music, surrounded by joy, completely unaware of how radiant she looked. Not in an untouchable way, but in a quiet, reverent one. Like she was full of light and trying desperately not to spill it.

After a few songs—mostly lullabies and one wobbly rendition of You Are My Sunshine—the concert ended. The crowd clapped. The kids laughed. And Allison bowed deeply with exaggerated flair that made all the children giggle.

Spencer stood when she approached, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright from the cold.

“I warned you it’d be chaotic,” she said.

“It was,” he agreed. “But it was… good. Really good.”

She beamed at him, tucking the violin back in its case. “They’ve been practicing for weeks. I’m glad they didn’t freeze up.”

“You’re really good with them,” he said, watching the last few kids run back toward their parents.

“I just try to listen.” She shrugged. “Most of them don’t get that very often.”

They fell quiet again, the kind of silence that meant more than words. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light across the quad. Allison stood there with her case at her side, the wind catching the edge of her cardigan again.

Spencer wanted to tell her she reminded him of spring. The kind of person who made things grow. But it felt too much, too soon, and he didn’t know how to say it without sounding foolish.

Instead, he asked, “Would you want to get coffee sometime?”

She blinked, looking surprised—but not displeased.

“With you?”

“With…me I’d hope,” he confirmed, nerves curling around his ribs. “If you want.”

Her smile was soft and slow. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers awkwardly—Allison fumbling with her phone, Spencer typing with the kind of caution he usually reserved for crime scene reports. Then she glanced at the time and winced.

“I promised I’d help clean up the art room,” she said. “But… thank you. For coming.” She made an awkward gesture before hitting her fist into her palm and swaying nervously.

“I’m glad I did,” he said truthfully.

And he meant it.

Because even as he walked away—coat buttoned against the evening chill, the sounds of laughter still echoing behind him—Spencer knew something had shifted. Maybe it was the way she played. Maybe the way she listened.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he felt a little warmer now.

Like she’d lit something in him he didn’t know was still capable of catching fire.

[medullamindset]

STEB HEADCANONS :>

Uhhhm YEAH a few headcanons ive collected since act 3 came out in november 😸 enjoy Stebnation, or dont idk

This is very short and boring but its easier to write him in an actual scenario so TRUST IN ME MY UPCOMING STUFF WILL BE BETTER 😿

Content warnings: Established relationship w Reader, miiiild mention of knifeplay but its easily looked past. My opinion on his race.

NSFW marked this pink!

• He cannot be any older than 30. I'd bet hes like 23-27. Idk how old u have to be to be a field medic/enforcer??

• Hes around 6'4.. Tall guy. ♥︎‿♥︎

• His frill thingies seem to lie flat to his face with "down" emotions, such as shame/guilt and sadness. But they point straight out with more intense emotions, like suspense, anger, exitement, worry. I love the way they flutter sometimes, as a subtle reaction. Like when they saw the Zaunites walking over the bridge to aid in the war, his frills were like "oh, wow.."

But also how they shot straight out with suspense when Ambessa wanted Caitlyn to b commander and everyone was banging their chests and stuff.

• I'd like to imagine his frills flutter a few times in a row when he orgasms, like the shockwaves of pleasure, but also post-orgasm. Maybe they go hand in hand with his nervous system kinda?

• His tip is the same color as his eyelids. His nails seem to be beige too.

• He CAN talk he just chooses not to if he feels he doesnt need to. Short sentences if he has to, small nods and shakes of his head, LOOKS. his face is VERY expressive, but thats more of a fact than a hc. body language is a key communication of his.

• Hes def always been the quiet type, ever since he was six he hasn't been big on speaking.

But sometimes you cheat the system.. Having your back turned to him when you ask him a question just so you can hear his voice, even just to get a little "mhm" from him <3

• On the rare occasion that he does speak his voice is kinda hoarse and gravelly from lack of use UGHHHH *squirts everywhere*

• hes a bit of a "bland" person, hes not boring.. Just a very simple man. He reads practically anything, carries your bags when you're out shopping, he literally just goes wherever you wanna go. He hangs over your shoulders when you do ur makeup, cooks breakfast most mornings, cleans when he feels its needed cuz he doesn't like messes, he'll have music on in the background tho and it's usually one of your vinyls that's playing, makes him feel closer to you <3

Simple things man. deeply emotional and caring too. Hes so kind and eager to help ugh MY SHAYLAA.

• hes a bit socially awkward, he doesnt have social anxiety, hes just kinda stiff and quiet around people.

• what the fuck does he do all day, really?

• I feel like he'd like dancing with his lover but he thinks hes bad at it so hes a bit awkward <333 put his hands around ur waist for him tho and he'd turn into even more speechless mush, everytime.

• Has a gummy smile thats really evident when he laughs so he tries not too, might let a grin slip in private tho c: and close mouthed chuckling/snickers.

• Loves being carressed, hold his face in your hands and trace his cheekbones with ur thumbs? FOLDS. Running your fingers up and down the fins at the back of his head when his face is in your neck? PUTTY.

• Speaking of fins, they continue down to to his lower back, shorter at the bottom but longest between his shoulderblades. He also has darker spots(scales?) Like the other fishfolk in Arcane on his outer arms and thighs. See this post of mine for a ref :)

• he drinks alot of water, like ALOT. his throat get dry easily cuz hes.. Yk, fish.. Atleast half-fish. He'll remind his partner to do the same, no matter your race cuz its good for u, he'll nudge u with a glass in hand and a small tug at his lips, or simply just leave it beside u as a silent reminder.

• Loves holding hands. like, he just LOVES it. He'll act nonchalant abt it but on the inside his heart is just blossoming 💗

Like imagine you're at a café or a bar or a diner WHATEVER and ur just sitting infront of him yapping abt ur day or smth ur planning while holding his hand over the table, and he'll just be buzzing with love, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb, feeling lucky his blush doesnt show (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

• ABSOLUTELY ADORES kisses. He just finds them so sweet and intimate (cuz they are. But i mean like, he doesn't ever NOT think about it after kissing you, hes always locked on target y'know, he only sees you. He only feels you when kissing your lips, he'll kiss u like its the end of the world.. even if hes just getting up to go to the bathroom or something.)

• he just loves you so much, please kiss him, everywhere. Theres not a single spot of him you could kiss that wouldn't make him shiver (the good way).

• Steb is not much for hardcore kinks in bed. He doesnt "fuck", he makes love. In his eyes there truly isnt any purer form of intimacy than sharing something like that, giving away a piece of yourself to this person, your souls spiritually intertwined and yadiyadayada (it's true tho)

• He will go harder if you ask him to, hes not afraid to make you scream with pleasure. Also, bite him and hes a goner. Omg if hes like treating u so nicely in the sack you gotta bite down on something to contain yourself, pls let it be his shoulder, please leave pretty imprints of you canines all over his neck and chest. And hickeys too HNNGHH

Makes him groan so deliciously. Hips snapping into yours just a liiiittle more harshly than intended.

He'll bite you back carnally if you'll let him, Steb gets so lost in it sometimes..

• Hes open to experimentation tho, like if theres something you reallyreallyreally wanna try he'll be like 'euuughgghggggrhggh okay yk what fine', as long as he doesn't have to hurt you, not too much anyway. The idea of inflicting pain-pain on the person he loves makes him queasy.

• But if hes really fucking horny at some point, watching you take the front seat and play around w his gills, scratch at his chest, put a hand around his neck or.. Idk drag a knife gently across his skin while topping he'll literally whine, digging his dull nails into your sides, holding on for dear life.

• He loves being called petnames. Serious and silly ones. His favorites have gotta be Love, Darling, Baby and pretty boy.. All the sappy stuff. One time you called him 'Gorgeous' and his frills shot straight out for a solid three seconds.. If he already didn't speak, he'd be speechless then. CUZ HES A GORGEOUS MAN.

Or that one time you called him 'fishface' and he just slumped in defeat when he heard you giggle, knowing that one was gonna stick around.

You'll enter the kitchen where hes making something to eat and just go "Hey, Fishface! So--!" Continuing to yap and he just rolls his eyes with a lopsided, lovesick grin u cant see from behind him. From anybody else it'd piss him off, but it's you, So he lets it slide.

• he has the warmest and weirdly softest fuckin hands ever. They're never clammy or sticky, just nice and toasty, perfect.

• is the type to grab your hands in the winter and rub them if theyre cold, trying to transfer his warmth over, even if hes also freezing. breathing hotly onto them.

• speaking of winter he probably HATES IT. He gets SO cold SO easy, hes shaking in his boots fr. A frozen fishstick fr. Like jesus. But the palms of his hands stay warm for some reason..

adding to that hes def a sweater fiend.. He LOVES knitted sweaters and hoodies and TURTLENECKS. HE'D LOOK SO GOOD IN A TURTLENECK. TELL ME IM WRONG. LIKE A BIG, FAT, KNITTED ONE THAT GOES UP TO HIS JAW. Even better if you knit/crocheted them for him <33

• I headcanon that his dad is a human and his mom is a fish person cuz he has hair and rounded teeth which other fishfolk we see don't. We don't see any other fishfolk from piltover tho.. So maybe hes just slapped on a wig, peel-off eyebrows and filed his teeth down (which is INSANELY painful btw) to look "socially acceptable". I HEAVILY doubt that, when i rascism like that ever shown in Arcane, Piltover specifically? 🤔 Im not even gonna get into that whole Vastaya thing cuz i dont know enough.. I heard they can decide how many animal features they show as they please and that they're like deeply connected to magic and live really long.. But that isn't mentioned or even nodded to in Arcane so im just gonna pretend that doesnt exist lol sorry

• but ya he adopted alot of his moms fishy features but also human-ish hair and teeth from his dad.

•speaking of his parents, i do feel like Steb was raised kinda strictly? Idk i just feel like his parents would be very uptight and that stuck with him all the way into adulthood, he stands super upright and is well proper while on the job because thats just what hes been taught.

hes alot more relaxed at home tho, where he knows he doesn't have to be or look presentable for anyone, especially not you. he knows you'll love him even while standing by the fridge in pj's, with a fist full of grated cheese ready to be devoured at circa 2 AM.

• He was raised in a small village on the outskirts, right beside the ocean. Hence he still adores it and loves to go swimming with you, reminds him of his childhood yk c:

• He kinda gives only child vibes to me? Idk the thought of him with an older sibling is kinda cute tho,, i imagine they'd be like complete opposites. They hardly see eachother,, I don't feel like his family lives in Piltover. He had a "Mom, Dad.. I'm 18 now..! I'm moving to the big city. And there is nothing you can do to stop me." Moment, exept in a less verbal way maybe, moving to the city of progress and begining medical and tactical training, to help people. On both sides.

• Hes really good at origami, sometimes when hes at work and droning at his desk with nothing better to do he'll just grab a random paper and fold a little swan together. You've found multiple critters like that scattered around the house, some with faces drawn on, just two inky dots and a derpy smile like this : )

Once he made one of your favorite animal and left it on your nightstand before heading to work, you picked it up and examined it, smile growing even wider when you found the hidden lovenote that was written on it <3

It's now glued neatly into your shared scrapbook/journal along with many more, surrounded by dried flowers and red hearts <33

Uhhhhhhhhhhhrghhhhhhhhhh yeah ❗️🚮 i just debated wether or not this is even worth posting for like twenty minutes.

Pls dont bash me for my opinions now *gulp*

Also heres a lil reminder that im taking requests 💗💗 i love writing i just never have good or original ideas :'o(

[fairlyang]

Missing You 🕷️

w/c: 944

tags: 18+ smut. mig's turn, masturbating, realization, teasing, down horrendous, phone sex, mutual masturbation,

part one

imagine going on about your day but unlike miguel you don’t let him get a word in because you need to say every single detail or else you’ll forget things. so you don’t even question why he isn’t responding just assuming he’s politely listening like always.

but in reality he's stroking himself, listening to you ramble. 

he couldn't help it. he was just like you in the sense that he loved, loved your voice.

he couldn't help if he got turned on just by hearing your pretty voice. it was so soft and sweet in his ear, how could he possibly be blamed when he gets hard just hearing it? 

you were oblivious to the fact that he wasn't really listening, keeping your story going while he stroked himself over his sweats. he was already so hard and leaking precum through his boxers. 

he laid his head back against his headboard and closed his eyes, imagining it was your hand slowly stroking him and not his own. he bit his lip to keep quiet and slid his hand under his sweats, starting to stroke himself over his boxers. 

he's missed you so fucking bad, his own hand was practically useless but for the time being, he genuinely had no other choice but to use it. if it were up to him, he'd have you jerking him off while he sucked on your tits. or he'd be between your legs and eating you out for hours because he's missed being there desperately. 

what he's missed the most is being inside you. it's been too long he swore he forgot how you felt. how you squeezed him to perfection. how you let out those beautiful moans and cries for him. 

his hand finally went under his boxers and he didn't wait a singular second to jerk himself off fast. he nearly let out a moan but he disguised it for a cough. his eyes shot open when you stopped talking for a second, not catching the moan but instead hearing the sounds of him masturbating. it was identical to how it was just a few days ago so it was hard to miss.

you stifle a laugh and grin, "aww did someone miss me?" you teased, making him roll his eyes and groan. 

"so happy to hear it baby." you say with a little giggle. 

he couldn't help but grin, he didn't think he'd be the one who'd get so turned on just from a normal conversation, now he didn't have anything to have other over your head. "been missing you so much nena.. couldn't help it." 

you swore under your breath and quickly got into a comfortable position so you could join him. "ahora somos iguales huh?" you tease earning yourself a chuckle from him. (now we're the same huh?"

"pues ya que…" he joked, making you roll your eyes. (i guess…)

somehow having the upperhand wasn't enough to help your case but help his. 

after a few seconds you both started to touch yourselves, trying to hear the noises the other would make but you were both too quiet. finally he sighed and just admitted defeat because he wanted to hear you already. "si somos iguales y te necesito aquí ahora mismo." he murmured, it coming out nearly as a desperate plead. (yes we are the same and I need you here, right this moment) 

"fuck-" you moaned and he was somehow already able to hear your wetness in the background.

"estoy contando los días…" he murmured and started stroking himself faster. (I'm counting down the days.)

"I am too baby.. wish you were in our bed." you whimpered, making him groan. 

"yeah? where would you want me?" he asks breathlessly, feeling himself getting closer to the edge just from hearing everything from your side of the line.

everything was practically crystal clear and it drove him insane. 

"on top of me." you cried and the noises only got louder. 

and before he could ask you to be more specific, you kept going, "wanna hold you close while you fuck me."

the moan that came out of him sent shivers down your spine and to your core. spending so much time apart was driving you both insane and all you needed was each other but you still had to wait a few days. 

it was torture.

luckily this was the next best thing and you both had strong voice kinks so these calls were able to help your urge to not just beg for him to come home. he'd do it in a heartbeat which was the problem, he needed to finish his job.

so you'd both torture yourselves by just getting off together. making each other moan and praying the days would go by faster.

continuing the back and forth of dirty exchanges just to make your need for one another even worse.

"doing so good for me baby." he purred, closing his eyes once again and envisioning you on top of him. 

he needed you in every position as soon as he could get to you, he's missed it all. 

his hand went even faster and your moans were becoming louder, just the motivation he needed. 

his orgasm quickly came when you whimpered out his name and let out the most needy moans he's ever heard. that coil in his stomach erupted and he spilled his load over his stomach, and the last bit of it on his thighs. 

he tried to calm his breathing as he heard you also having an orgasm. loud moans and desperate pleas to come home filled his ears and he nearly came for a second time.

[quinnysnursery]

can you do reader being besties with tara yummy and one day while they are hanging out reader gets upset/stressed over something and starts slipping into little space immediately, in which tara knows about but hasn’t seen yet so she calls reader’s caregiver(maybe chris as readers’s main cg?) to see how to comfort and make the reader feel better?

[❤️] it takes a village | tara yummy one-shot

paring : babysitter!tara yummy x little!fem!reader x background!cg!chris sturniolo

summary : after seeing a particuallry hateful tweets you unexpectedly slip while at taras house...no worries though! she's got ya.

warning/extra tid-bits : use of y/n, explicit language, crying, that's all i think!!

word count : 1,108

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (trees from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : for all you can eat pasta HOUSE💜 anon!! also, i finally didn't make the title apart of the final sentence everyone cheer (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

You and Tara let out a shriek as you saw a moth fly past your eyes, desperately looking for an escape out of the house.

“Did Chris leave the door open?” You asked, looking towards the front door- it was shut. The little stowaway must’ve snuck in whilst the triplets were dropping you off. You and Tara leapt off the couch, determined to save the small winged creature.

It took you two about twenty minutes to get the moth into a cup and outside. 

Once you two were finished with your sidequest, you both flopped onto the couch- letting out sighs of relief. “I’m so tweeting about that.” You chuckled softly, grabbing your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants and opening up the app. Tara gave you a few ideas of how to word the post- laughing about how both of you shrieked at the first sight of the small creature.

You mindlessly scrolled up as Twitter opened- allowing your eyes to land on a tweet you wish you hadn’t.

Your eyes immediately glossed over, a feeling of sadness washing over your body as you processed what you’d read. Were you too childish? Sure, you were known on the internet for being bubbly but childish? Did people really see you as childish? 

“Y/n? You good?” Tara asked, setting down her phone and sitting up straight- a look of concern plastering her face. You let out a shaky breath, closing your phone and trying to blink away your tears.

“Hey…what’s going on?” She asked, scooting over and pulling you into a hug. “Just- Just a stupid comment.” You sighed, trying to brush off the hurtful words. Your mind was beckoning for regression but you did your best to push it away- you’d just gotten upset over being called childish, was regression really gonna help with that?

Tara frowned, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry hon, I hate people like that.” She expressed. You knew that Tara suffered from copious amounts of hate comments, ranging from calling her a “desperate pick-me” to slut-shaming her beyond belief.

You sniffled, leaning against Tara’s shoulder. “Are you okay? D’you wanna talk about it?” She asked, earning a soft nod from you. “They called ‘e childish…” You murmured, fidgeting with your sweatpant strings. Tara hummed- understanding that it’d struck a nerve.

“M’ not childish though-even…even if ‘m little sometimes.” You explained, Tara was one of the few friends who knew of your regression. The persian woman nodded, “You aren’t childish at all, being childish isn’t even a bad thing.” She commented.

That was true. It wasn’t necessarily bad to be childish, it just hurt since you knew the user behind the account meant it malicefully. 

“D’you want me to call Chris to come get you? I understand if you wanna cut our sleepover short.” She smiled warmly, you smiled back at your best friend's compassion. You thought it over, eventually coming to the conclusion that you wouldn’t be able to push your regression off for much longer.

“Yeah,” You sighed, “Sorry I just- I think ‘m gonna slip.” You said sheepishly. Tara nodded, pulling out her phone and scrolling to find Chris’ contact. You peaked over Tara’s shoulder, fuzziness growing in your mind as Tara clicked the call button on your caregiver’s contact.

You kicked your legs idly, letting out a soft yawn. Tara couldn’t help but coo, snuggling you closer. “Chris’ll be here soon, promise.” She reassured, bringing the phone to her ear. 

Tara waited for a few moments, it only took three rings for Chris to pick up. “Hey C-” The persian woman’s words were spoken over, “Is Y/n okay? What happened?” Chris immediately asked, worry evident in his voice.

Tara couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s worry- it was obvious to anyone that he cared about you deeply. The perfect caregiver. 

“Y/n’s alright, she’s on the verge of slipping though. Could you three come back and get her?” The black haired woman asked, “Shit-” The muffled sounds of Chris telling Matt and Nick the situation emitted through the speakers of the device. “Yeah, of course.” He finally answered. “We’ll be there in like fifteen, you got her ‘til then?” Chris asked, prepared to stay on the phone. 

Tara glanced at the little who was squished against her shoulder- now mostly regressed. “Yeah, I got her.” Tara smiled, tapping your nose playfully. You wrinkled up your nose, sticking your tongue out at the babysitter.

Chris thanked Tara before hanging up, leaving just you two- and Sugar, of course.

“I think someone’s sleepy.” Tara laughed softly, you shook your head no- but your body betrayed you by forcing you to let out a big yawn. “Oh really?” She teased playfully, helping you scoot down so you could be laid out on the couch- your head now resting on her lap.

“You can take a nap y/n, I’ve gotcha.” Tara promised, earning a sleepy nod from you. You rubbed your tired eyes with balled up fists, letting Tara rub circles into your back. “Mmm…” You whined, “Hm? What’s wrong?” She asked, leaning down slightly.

“M’ wanna story…” You drew out, giving Tara your signature puppy-dog eyes and well, how could she say no to those?

Tara didn’t have any childrens books but she had a plethora of real life stories she could tell. “Well, last week when I was filming with Jake he thought it’d be funny to-” Tara continued on, explaining how Jake had somehow managed to drop an entire box of Crumbl Cookies onto Tara’s lap.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You woke to your hair being moved away from your face, a familiar voice murmuring to you. “I’ve got you baby, c’mere.” Chris’ voice cooed, scooping you into his arms and allowing you to latch onto his torso. You whined at the bright lights in Tara’s living room being too harsh on your sleep-ridden eyes.

Once you realized that Chris was making his way towards the front door, you quickly sprung your head up- eyes finding Tara. “Tar…” You whined, causing Chris to stop. “What is it, princess?” He asked as Tara approached you two. “Bye bye Ta’wa…” You smile, stretching your hand out to wave.

Tara’s heart melted, standing on her tippy toes to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Bye bye sweet girl. You can come over and play another day, yeah?” She hummed, earning an excited nod from you.

Just before Chris walked out the door, he turned ever so slightly in Tara’s direction. “Thank you, Tara.” He thanked, earning a nod from Tara. 

“Of course, anytime.”

taglist !! :

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[littlelamy]

reader wins an award at the country club maybe something with tennis but rafe gets so busy and ends up missing it

a/n: thank you sending a request 🤍 i hope you like it! 🐑

the day should have been perfect—a culmination of your hard work and dedication. you’d spent weeks preparing for the tennis tournament at the country club, and you’d been so excited to have rafe there, watching from the stands, cheering you on. he had promised he wouldn’t miss it.

but, of course, rafe was nowhere to be found.

you stood there on the podium, accepting the first-place trophy with a hollow smile plastered on your face, scanning the crowd one last time. nothing. no familiar face, no smirk, no quick thumbs-up from him. the excitement of your victory felt overshadowed by the emptiness gnawing in your chest.

back in the locker room, you stared at your phone, willing it to buzz with an explanation, a half-assed apology—anything. but nothing came through until you were already back at the after-party, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment every time someone asked where rafe was.

finally, your phone buzzed.

rafey💗: sorry. got tied up. i’ll make it up to you. let’s talk when you’re home.

you read the text, feeling the familiar frustration boil up inside you. he was always “tied up,” always “busy.” he’d promised he would be there today—he had sworn he’d make it.

you: you promised you’d be here. you missed it.

the reply came through quickly.

rafey💗: i said i’ll make it up to you. just come home.

you scoffed, locking your phone and deciding you’d finish your drink before leaving. maybe this time you wouldn’t let him off so easy.

when you got home, the house was dimly lit, and the smell of food hit you immediately. candles flickered around the room, and soft music played in the background. he was trying, you could see that. but as sweet as the setup was, it wasn’t enough to completely erase the frustration bubbling under your skin.

rafe appeared in the doorway, watching you with that familiar cocky glint in his eye. "you made it," he said, his voice low as he approached.

you crossed your arms, leaning back against the door. "yeah. i made it. too bad you couldn’t say the same for the tournament."

rafe sighed, his hands slipping into his pockets. "i told you—i got caught up. work shit. you know how it is."

"yeah, i know how it is. you’re always ‘caught up.’ it’s always the same excuse, rafe," you shot back, your voice sharper than usual. you couldn’t help it. you’d been holding it in all day.

he frowned, his expression shifting from apologetic to defensive. "jesus, are you really going to make this a big thing? i already said i was sorry. what more do you want?"

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "i wanted you to be there, rafe. just once, to actually keep your word. is that too much to ask?"

his jaw clenched, his hands falling to his sides as he took a step closer, towering over you. "i do a lot for you, you know that? don’t act like i don’t try. i’m here now, aren’t i?"

you glared up at him, refusing to back down. "yeah, now that it’s convenient for you."

rafe’s eyes flashed with irritation as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "watch it."

the tension hung in the air between you for a moment, both of you silently daring the other to say more. then, just as quickly as his anger had flared up, it seemed to cool. he stepped back, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "look, i messed up. i know. but i’m here now, and i’m trying to fix it. do you wanna keep arguing, or do you want me to make it up to you?"

his words were sharp, but you could see the frustration in his eyes—the way he was trying to pull himself back from snapping completely. he always did this, always danced on that line between anger and remorse.

you exhaled heavily, shaking your head. "fine. but this doesn’t just go away, rafe. you can’t keep missing things like this."

rafe’s lips twitched into a half-smirk, the edge of arrogance still lingering as he closed the distance between you again. his fingers grazed your waist, pulling you closer. "you’ll forgive me," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still laced with that confidence that always made your stomach flip. "you always do."

you hated how right he was.

he pressed his lips to your neck, trailing kisses slowly upward until his breath was hot against your ear. "let me make it up to you tonight," he whispered, his hands tightening around your waist, grounding you in that familiar pull he always had over you.

you sighed, the frustration still simmering, but already slipping away as you leaned into his touch. "you’ve got a lot of making up to do," you muttered, not wanting to give in too easily.

rafe chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "i plan on it."

he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom as the tension between you shifted from frustration to something far more intoxicating. and even though you were still mad at him, even though you knew this didn’t fix everything, it was hard to resist him when he looked at you like that.

he set you down gently on the bed, leaning over you with a grin that was half apology, half arrogance. "let me make you forget all about that stupid tournament, baby," he murmured, his lips hovering over yours.

for now, you let him. you’d deal with everything else later.

[theemporium]

since its winter season lets say bsf!reader gets sick how is quinn reacting?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

series masterlist

.

“Quinn—”

“No.”

“I feel fine—”

“No.”

“I can just—”

“You’re not going and that is final,” Quinn stated bluntly, shooting you a look from across the kitchen. You had spent the last fifteen minutes arguing with the boy and it just felt like you were going around in circles. 

After the last of your winter semester assignments had been handed in, you had booked a flight out to Vancouver to spend the few weeks you had off with Quinn before you headed home for the holidays. What you failed to take into consideration was that the cold weather and stress of college would wear you down so much. 

Now, you were finally in Vancouver, feeling congested and feverish and, overall, just like utter shit. 

And the last place Quinn wanted you was in the arena to watch his game.

“I hardly get to watch you,” you argued as you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ll be in the suite with the others, as well. I’ll be fine, Quinn. I can just—”

“You should be resting.” Quinn retorted, his brows furrowed together in concern. You knew he was worried but god, it just reminded you of when he was overbearingly protective of Jack and Luke growing up. “The arena will be loud and cold and—”

You shot him a look. “I’ve been to a hockey game, Quinn.” 

The boy let out a sigh, staring right back at you. Neither one of you said anything for a few moments before Quinn broke, making his way towards you and hesitantly opening his arms to you. You didn’t waste much time in wrapping your arms around his waist, settling your head against his chest as he hugged you close.

“I know you wanna be there to support me but I want you to take care of yourself first,” Quinn murmured, his lips brushing against the crown of your head before he placed a kiss there. “The last thing I want is you pushing yourself too hard and you get worse.”

“You’re such a captain,” you mumbled into his chest but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I just feel bad for missing the game when I’m literally here.”

“I know,” he muttered before he pulled back enough to look down at you. “But there will be plenty of games while you’re here than you can come to, when you’re better.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you grumbled with a pout.

His lips twitched upwards. “C’mon, you can watch the game on the couch. I’ll even order your favourite soup from the deli down the road.” 

Your face softened. “I know you’re just softening me up so I agree but you’re a real softie when you want to be.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, get that pretty ass moving now.”

And he did as he said. He got you settled on the couch with an array of pillows and blankets and one of his spare jerseys so you could support him fully. He waited until the food arrived and plated it up, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he left.

Despite your best efforts, you did fall asleep during the game. That was how Quinn found you, fast asleep on the couch with the game highlights playing in the background. And something in his chest tightened at the sight, at the hope that maybe one day this would be a sight he could come home to every day rather than the few weeks you were visiting him for.

.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 19 - Careless Whisper by George Michael

Eddie had been gone a week.

They'd never been apart this long. Eddie had asked Steve if he'd wanted to come but he couldn't, he had work and he knew Eddie would be busy on the trip anyway.

"I'll be back before you know it, baby."

Eddie and the band were in Chicago, recording what was hopefully going to be the proper demo of a possible real and released album. Steve was excited for them but it didn't stop him from missing his boyfriend.

He tried to keep busy, picking up extra shifts on top of his scheduled ones, reorganising their apartment, movie nights with Robin and dinner at the Henderson's. The apartment felt empty without Eddie in it though.

They moved there almost a year ago, happy to have their own space away from Steve's parents and giving Wayne back a bedroom. It was perfect, it was theirs.

Eddie had called a couple times but both times were late at night, both the boys tired from their long days. It helped to fall asleep hearing Eddie's voice, he missed his warmth in their bed.

He hoped Eddie was having fun, he sounded like he was, talking about the sights and the sounds and the people. He sounded happy. They'd talked about it when they were first looking for an apartment if they should move away from Hawkins. Steve wasn't ready yet, Eddie had understood.

He lay in the middle of their bed, Eddie's pillow cuddled close, George Michael crooned in the background. Would Eddie be happier in Chicago? Was he happier there already? Would he be happier without Steve? He hugged the pillow closer.

"Careless Whisper, Stevie? You must have really missed me."

Steve's head shot up to see Eddie smiling in their bedroom doorway. He jumped up and ran to him, hugging him close.

"You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow!"

"We finished earlier than expected, and I missed you baby, the boys are enjoying a night on the town but I needed you."

Steve's chest filled with warmth, "I missed you too, Eds.

Eddie fidgeted, "Let's lay down, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Steve tried not to let the words panic him, after all Eddie had just said how much he missed him so surely this wasn't a bad talk coming. He curled into Eddie's side in the bed? "What's up?" he said resting his chin on Eddie's chest looking up at him.

Eddie trailed a hand down Steve's back soothingly, "Our lease runs out at the end of next month, and if things go well in Chicago they'd want the band to move there."

Steve nodded as Eddie continued, "And I know last year you said you couldn't but it's been three years since Vecna and everyone's still ok. The kids will be graduating soon and leaving and Robin has been looking at places to work now that her degree is almost done." Steve smiled hearing that Eddie had already incorporated Robin and the kids into this plan.

"I'm ready."

Eddie looked at him surprised, "Really?"

"I wanna dance this dance with you forever, Eds."

Eddie kissed him, "You're such a dork, but I love you so much."

"I love you too."

[themeraldee]

Fun thought i’d like to share: homelander rarely uses his phone because if someone needs him they can find him somewhere in the tower and if he’s not there then they don’t need to reach him. So when he randomly gets a notification that his storage is full he’s confused…until he opens up his camera roll and realizes you have taken hundreds of photos whenever his phone has been sitting around. Some cute, flirty, and a lot of stupid ones all blurriness and bad angles plus a good bunch of him when he’s not looking…can’t tell if he’d hate it or love it 😂

hate it??? If you don't think he's already printing and framing them all you're wrong 😂 I think that's so fun tho, I always adore the BTS scenes of Antony in costume so all the candid shots of him sound so fun 🩷 I feel like he'd enjoy having someone take photos of him just because. They don't expect him to pose, they just wanna capture the moment because they love him or they like the way he looks, etc... but it's not a staged photoshoot! He doesn't really have anyone close to him to take silly selfies with!

I feel like it'd be like a whole days mission for him to go through all the photos of you and pick which one he likes the most so he can make it his background 🫶 (there's a whole day booked out in his calendar and if anyone asks he's on a super important mission the outcome of which will save the world, i.e. he's butt naked on the couch scrolling though his gallery. speaking of, it's gotta be really uncomfortable to be naked on that couch, why is that his preference?? throw on some joggers my guy, why are you okay with your ass, thighs and back sticking to the leather 😭😭😭)

Idk I feel like he's such a sap. If you gave him a scrapbook with some of the photos printed out with some sweet words etc he'd be even more insane about you lol.

[vetitiscripta]

i wanna see ren grow horrified when he realizes mc only follows instruction because theyre literally being controlled by strade. i want to see him question it all and maybe even lose it a bit when he realizes mc hadn't acted alone. and most of the violence had been the same man he'd let bleed out that day on the ground. i want to see how bad that takes a toll on his mind.

anon your mind. mentally kissing you on the mouth anon

for those who missed it- this is regarding my ghost strade au

for this au, i like to think that strade can really only interact/“control” mc in certain moments, probably something like due to strong emotions (take that as you will 😏) or whatever

but god!! ren thinking that mc genuinely wants to do this type of stuff or hang out with him of their own free will only to find out its all because of strade. he would start thinking about everything that has happened and would wonder if any of it was genuine

he’d think about the time he found you late at night on the couch, watching one of strade’s old snuff films. he thought that you had finally understood, had come to appreciate the beauty of it all like he had. he cuddled with you on the couch as you put on another one on. (you had woken up that night in a cold sweat, an intense urge to watch one. strade stood in the corner of your room just watching you, smile on his face every time you looked at him. you tried to ignore the urge, ignore him, but it eventually wore you down. you trudged down the stairs and stood in front of the dvds, letting strade pick the one he wanted. you watched 3 films before ren found you, your tears already dried)

he’d remember the time you willingly slept in the same bed with him for the first time. it was late at night and he was trying to find an anime to watch when you softly knocked on his door. when he opened the door you were basically shaking, eyes darting around. “can i sleep with you tonight?” ren was over the moon when you asked, basically had hearts in his eyes (he’s down bad don’t make fun of him). he thinks you’ve come around, you finally see that you love him like he loves you. he happily welcomes you in his bed, arms wrapped around you so tight you fear he may snap you in half, anime playing in the background as you both fall asleep. (strade wouldn’t leave you alone that day. he was constantly around you, pestering you. sometimes he would just hover over your shoulder, watching your every movement, other times he would be telling you stories, the things he did and how he did them. every waking moment was spent with strade, you were so tired. you were happy when it was finally night and you could sleep. but then you felt the bed dip and felt hands on your legs, slowing inching their way up. you shot out of bed faster than ever and made your way to ren’s room. swallowing your pride for the night would be better than dealing with strade for another 5 minutes)

the encounter with lawrence was a staple in your relationship, you two were brought together since then (he believed) and he was so happy with you, he knows that he you were meant to be his

the day you tell him everything, he seems to crumble. he’s frozen as you tell him everything, fear on his face. he wanted to believe it was a joke, a bad joke that he could punish you for but you knew too much for it to be a coincidental joke. you were crying at the end of it, overwhelmed by everything that had been going on, and ren felt close to tears himself

he thought he was done with strade. sure his body is in the basement freezer, but he was no longer controlled by him, strade had no power over him anymore. (he might be lying to himself on that, he tries to be what strade was, tries to fill the empty feeling he got when he watched strade die)

and now you’re telling him that strade is still here just as a ghost? that strade was watching everything? that strade still had control?

i think that ren would try to regain control, would try to show that strade might still be around, but he is in charge now. he’d shock you before you can comprehend what he’s doing and you would wake up in the basement, tied to the pole. ren stood over you, knife in hand. strade stood just behind him, biggest smile you have ever seen on his face. you focused back on ren as he crouched down, “is he here?” you looked back up at strade before nodding. “good” a glint of metal caught your eye as ren brought the knife to your skin

[luvyeni]

SEX FASHION AND GUITARS — chapter 6. fitting day 📍!

𐙚 pairings. rockstar!jaemin x stylist!reader

synopsis. l/n y/n fashion major and photographer on the side who says what she wants, na jaemin music major and lead guitar player for underground band DREAM. After yn forgets her to change her account and says something that catches the eye of jaemin she tries to ignore him — expect thanks to chenle she now works for them.

word count. 1438 words

SMUT WARNING !!!

"ouch , that shit hurts." the boy complained for the thirtieth time , you were starting to think he was doing it on purpose. "yah! it's not even that bad , you're just being a pussy." you took down the measurements , closing the book. "done , now get out my studio." he scoffed. "so mean." he muttered. "let's go , i wanna go home and drink."

"can i come with you." you rolled your eyes. "all of you are just the same." you deadpanned, putting your coat on. "who else are you talking about , jaemin?" he questioned , you grabbed all your belongings , pushing him out the door of the place. "doesn't matter , no you can't come." you said. "awe why?!" he whined. "it's just drinks." he said. "you say that now , and then drink will somehow lead to you in my bed." he dramatically gasped , it made you smile. "do you think of me as some common whore?"

"yes , yes i do." you walked to the bus stop. "let me take you home." he said. "you won't quit will you?" he smiled shrugging. "fine you can only drive me home." he pouted , you would never believe this was the same guy that was notorious for being hard ass vocalist , who would hook up with a cactus if he could. "2 drinks?"

"one drink." you caved, what harm could one drink do? "one drink , okay , let's go!" he dragged you to his car. "jesus this car has seen it all." you teased , getting into the car. "hey , you were about to get on the bus , who are you to judge?" you nodded. "touche."

you guys made it safely back to your shared apartment with sieun , throwing your keys into the bowl near the door , taking off your shoes , making your way into the kitchen. "you have a roommate." you hummed , reaching up , grabbing to glasses and a bottle of soju. "she's out for the night , so you won't see her." you sat the glasses down , pouring the liquid in them. "here."

turns out haechan was good at conversation , because one shot , turned into 2 empty bottles of soju , and you both sitting on your couch , his arm wrapped around your should as you conversed about random things , a movie playing in the background. "what happened to one drink only?" you slapped his chest, making him groan. "you hold a nice conversation."

"and im incredible sexy?" he wiggled his eyesbrows. "you're lucky im tipsy , or i would've definitely gotten the ick and kicked you out for saying that." you got up to grab another bottle , he followed close behind you. "it's okay to admit it." he said. "that im sexy." you reached down to grab the bottle , not unaware to his burning stares at the ass. "i think you're sexy."

"you want another drink?" you said , trying to ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach. "nah , im good." you nodded , pouring yourself one. "you want to finish the movie?" you tried to walk back into the living room — only to be stopped by the man. "you know you don't give a fuck about that movie." he backed you against the counter , you sat the drink down as his hand traveled to your waist , caressing it. "you're sly." you tried to maintain composure , but that slowly slipped away as he hand came to the back of neck , pulling your bodies close , you could feel his hard on your stomach , he smirked. "yeah , i know." his lips were almost on yours ,you could feel his ghosting yours , when you stopped him. "what's wrong?"

"im not looking for something serious." he nodded. "good neither am i , just trying to fuck a pretty girl." you rolled your eyes. "you are not a dirty talker." he shrugged. "you say that now , wait until we get into bed." he finally closed the gap , holding the back of your neck as he tongued down in your kitchen , your hands coming up to his , tugging on it.

you manuvered your body , pushing him towards your bedroom , both of your clothes slowly coming off before you made it to your door — you opened your door , letting him in , closing the door , locking it just in case seiun came in and completely ignored the trail of clothes leading to your bedroom. haechan sat on your bed , in his underwear , beckoning you over , with his fingers.

"so eager." you smirked , slowly sinking to your knees , his cock hard and twitching against the confinements. "hurry." his arms keeping him up , as you pulled down his underwear his cock slapping against his stomach , tip red and dripping with pre-cum. "jesus , how long have you been hard." you grabbed the base , he hissed. "fuck." he cursed as he felt your glossed lips kiss the tip of his cock. "shit , such a tease."

you smirked , bringing your lips around his tip , sucking on it. "oh fuck , take it all the way." he let out a loud moan as you took him all the way. "shit." you bobbed your head up and down , your tongue working around the base as you stroked what you couldn't fit. "oh shit , your-you're so fucking good at this." he groaned. "fuck im gonna fucking cum." his hands balled the sheets , his hips bucking up — cock twitching as he came , shooting his seed into the back of your throat.

he sighed as you pulled him off , with a pop— your lips red and swollen. "fuck , you're so good." he grabbed your face , kissing you. "get up here." he climbed up on the bed , his cock still stan tall as you discarded your panties , straddling his waist. "come on sit on my cock." you grabb the base , holding your body above him , sinking down on his cock. "oh fuck!" he loudly groaned. "so-so noisy."

you rocked your hips back and forth , his hips occasionally bucking up , struggling to stay still as your pussy squeezed him so tightly. "shit." he groaned. "your pussy is amazing." he groaned , his head back against your headboard. "so fucking wet." his hands came up to your boobs , pulling your bra down , your tits spilling out , bouncing at your motions. "yeah , keep bouncing on my dick." he teased your nipples. "fuck , hyuck im about to cum."

both of you moving your hips , eagerly chasing your orgasms. "fuck , me too." he groaned. "fuck , i want you cum first." he rubbed your clit. "cum all over my cock, make a mess." your sore legs tensed up, twitching as you came. "oh fuck!" you sighed , he groaned thrusting up. "fuck im gonna cum."

you climbed off of him , grabbed the base of his cock , stroking his cock , until his cum covered your hand , squeezing lightly as his thighs shook from over sensitivity. "sh-shit that's enough." he stuttered , you let his cock fall against his stomach. "shit you're crazy." you smiled , licking the cum off your fingers. "shit you're nasty."

he flipped your body over , pulling you into a deep kiss. "fuck." you pulled away. "if you get hard again you'll have to go jerk off , im tired." he laughed. "trust me ,im gonna go home a jerk off anyway." he got up , putting his under off , you grabb a tissue off your nightstand. "you okay ,cause im gonna go." he said. "wow you are gonna stay , even to cuddle." you said sarcastically. "don't want you to fall in love." he teased back. "please , more like you falling in love with me."

"im gonna shower ,let yourself out." you got out of bed. "if you ever wanna do this again, you have my number." he said. "we both know you'll call me first." you spoke one last time before making your way into the bathroom.

after showering, you went into the kitchen go get some real food. "oh hey." you said to sieun who was sitting at the table , eating. "thought you worked late." you sat down. "i was going to , until i see who was on closing shift and faked that my roommate was in the hospital." she slid over the extra container of food. "thanks."

"chenle is gonna kill you , jisung too." she spoke up. "what are you talking about?" you shoveled food into your mouth. "haechan was still putting on his shirt as i was walking into the apartment , i hope it wasn't on the couch." her face grimaced in disgust. "nope , you're good , and chenle doesn't have to know , plus it was just a a hook up , im not looking to bare his children." you explained. "it better be , i can not bare to see you all pregnant and married to lee haechan." you rolled your eyes. "that's scary."

"girl not just scary , that's horrifying."

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TAGLIST (CLOSED). @nominsgirl @haechansbbg @axo-l0tl @darlingz99 @hollxe1 @lostinneocity @lovebuglissas @stars4yulia @syzavxy @kgyam4 @trashx678 @jarrofkookie @fae-renjun @thisisnotjancita@irinayobitch@cloudmrk @chenlesfeetpic

©️LUVYENI

[dorotheataylor]

Lover

Pairing- Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Summary- Listen to Lover by Taylor Swift

Warnings- FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFF, established relationship, really really small adult talk, this is really cliché, no curses!au, modern!au, my poor english, reader and satoru are so in love :( (i wanna cry) Based on Lover by Taylor Swift <3

Word Count- 2.7k words (excluding lyrics)

A/N- The amount of love I have for this man is insane. Gege when I catch you Gege!! Anyways this is something I imagine everyday with this man and decided why not share this with y’all? Hope y’all like this!

"Good morning Toru," you said in a sleepy voice as you rubbed your eyes.

Satoru smiled and said, "Good morning, my love," placing the coffee mugs on the nightstand nearby and leaning down to kiss you. You kissed him back for a moment but then immediately pulled away.

He looked at you with a frown and you spoke, "you know I have a very bad breath in the morning."

His frown suddenly turned into the grin you adored so much. "And you know that I don't care," he said before leaning down once more and kissing you. And this time you didn't resist.

You snuggled up into him to cuddle. He wrapped his hands around you as he laid beside you.

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘till January

This is our place, we make the rules

"Happy new year," you beamed before moving even closer (if possible) to him. His body was warm- the body heat you’d always miss when you woke up in bed without him engulfing you.

"Well there's still some couple of hours left," he chuckled before kissing your forehead, "but happy new year."

Although the Christmas tree was gone by now- from the holiday a week ago- multiple strings of Christmas lights remained hung up on the living room walls. Turned off, the fluorescent lights were more gloomy than cheerful due to the festivities being over.

It being the first Christmas with Satoru in the new apartment, the one you both collectively bought together just over six months ago, the holiday was a milestone for your relationship. Decorating the small apartment was fun, placing ornaments carefully on the tree with Satoru while he broke over half of them; accidentally of course.

And now the lights remained, hung up on the walls of the open living room. While you took the first sip of the coffee- the caffeine sliding down your throat and almost scorching your tongue- it was as if Satoru read your mind.

“The Christmas lights are still up, we forgot about them.” There had always been a mysterious way about him, always seeming to know what you were thinking or feeling at any given time.

You'd heard of him in your university days. The uni heartthrob, star basketball player and the guy of every girl's dreams studying with you. Your friend would go on about him every now and then until she found her 'the one' as she called it.

You had to admit that you'd grown a crush on him too but you were too scared. He was the popular guy every girl swooned over, and then there was you, just managing to get through the uni. You doubted if he even knew about your existence. So you never worked on your feelings and just continued the way you lived.

The first time you officially met and talked with him was on the annual prom night. You were sitting alone, trying to get a shot as you watched everyone, including your best friend, dance on the slow song playing in the background.

You'd come there without a date as no one had asked you. You were slightly upset but your friend cheered you up, ditching her own boyfriend to go with you. But after a few hours of having fun, she wanted to spend time with him and of course you didn't mind.

So here you were, deep in thoughts and didn't notice someone coming up to you until the person spoke.

"Hey."

You immediately knew who's voice it was. You turned your head to look at them. And there he stood, dressed up in a black tuxedo, his white hair perfectly styled and faint blush on his cheeks as he showed his smile. Your heart started to pick up its pace as your cheeks heated up. Why would they not? Satoru Gojo, the popular guy of the whole campus and your long time crush, was talking to you.

"Hey," you replied, surprised and internally relieved you didn't stutter.

"Mind if I join you?" he said gesturing over the empty seat besides you.

"Not at all." You said and handed him a drink as he took the seat.

You were surprised, that 'The Gojo Satoru' would be so sweet and awkward at the same time. Still you two talked and got to know each other. Apparently, his date ditched him when he refused for PDA, and he claimed to enjoy your company more.

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

He almost got shy when he asked you for a dance. But you still accepted nevertheless. And let's just say it was the best time of your life. Neither of you two knew how to dance and all the time you were just stepping on each other's foot or just laughing your asses off. You knew you'd just met him but it felt like you'd known him for years.

The night ended with him asking you out. You gladly accepted. And with that, started a beautiful love story one could only ask for.

“I think we should leave them up,” a quizzing look you gave him with your eyebrows prompted him to explain, “you know, ‘cause why not? We’re adults, we don’t have to listen to any rules anymore, right?”

You laughed. “I guess I see your point... but it’s already New Year’s Day, and Christmas was a week ago. If others come around, what will they say?”

"Who cares, this is our place. Meaning," he held you tighter and continued, "we make the rules here. We could live it 'til the next January."

"You're crazy, Gojo." You said playfully and he rolled his eyes.

"Well sorry to break it to you sweetheart but you're stuck with me," he said with a little smirk.

"Wouldn't have it another way." You said giggling and giving him a quick peck on lips before getting out of the bed. As you were about to leave, he held your wrist and pulled you back. You landed back on the bed as he held you tightly once again.

"Let's just stay like this for the whole day." He said as he closed his eyes.

You giggled, "’Toru, if you don't let me go then we won't be getting any breakfast today."

"I don't care." He said as he buried his face in your chest, "you're warm and I want cuddles." You laughed at his childish behaviour and cuddled back with him. You slowly ran your fingers in his hair just the way he liked. He groaned at the feeling and hugged you even tighter.

There was a comfortable and peaceful silence until he said, "by the way I already made us breakfast."

You widened your eyes when you heard him. "Really? I'm surprised the house is not on fire yet."

He sat up and rolled his eyes. "You know I'm a better cook than you."

You hit him playfully on his chest as he laughed. He got out of the bed and went into the kitchen and you went to the bathroom and quickly brushed your teeth, excited to see what he had prepared for both of you.

He came back with two plates of honey-drizzled pancakes. You were sitting on the bed by then and your mouth immediately started watering after seeing the pancakes.

"Tell me how it is." He said after putting down the plates. You took a bite before widening your eyes and looking at him proudly.

"I see you've gotten my recipe perfectly." You said wiggling your eyebrows making him chuckle.

He chuckled, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "I wanted to do something different this time. You're always the one making breakfast, so I thought I'd give it a try and show you that I can make your recipes too. Consider it my New Year's resolution. Plus I know how much you hate to get out of the bed in the morning, so breakfast is now my duty."

Your heart melted at his thoughtful gesture. He had gone out of his way to make you happy, to bring a change to their routine. It was a small act, but it spoke volumes about his love and dedication. You couldn't help but fall in love with him even more if possible.

Moved by his sincerity, you leaned in and kissed him passionately, feeling the warmth of his embrace. In that moment, your connection deepened, your love reaffirmed. Your lips gently parted, and your foreheads touched as you locked eyes, sharing an unspoken language of love and understanding.

You’re my my my my Lover.

"You don't have to do anything special to make me happy." You whispered, "as long as you're with me, I'm content."

A smile graced his lips, and he spoke softly, "I love you."

"I love you too. More than words can express." You said before attaching your lips with his once again.

-

"Cheers to the New Year!" echoed throughout the room as everyone joyously raised their glasses and took hearty sips of their drinks. The lively party was in full swing, with conversations overlapping and laughter filling the air. To your right, was a group engaged in a spirited drinking game, while in a quieter corner, a few couples were making out while Satoru and Suguru shared jokes and laughter near the balcony, relishing their drinks.

I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

You tried to focus on the conversation you were having with your friends but failed miserably. All you could see was the unfamiliar girl who was now flirting with Satoru. He looked like he had no clue about it. Beside him, was his friend Suguru. Unlike your boyfriend, he noticed the dirty glances you were throwing at the girl.

You see him nudge Satoru with his elbow and point your way. Your eyes met his blue ones for a moment when you instantly looked away. You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous but god you couldn’t help it.

I’ve loved you three summer now honey but I want ‘em all

He was so gorgeous with his soft white hair and cold blue eyes that any girl would fall for him. But those cold eyes only showed warmth and love when they looked at you. You were the only one Satoru loved and will continue to do so till the end of time.

You looked at him again only to see him smirk. Can’t able to bear the sight of it, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You excused yourself from your friends and walked over to where Satoru was standing. “Darling, It’s getting late. We should head home.” You said in a saccharine voice with a forced smile. Not waiting for his reply, you pulled him by his arm. The last thing you heard before exiting the venue was some words of 'good luck' directed towards Satoru by Suguru.

When you got into the car, you immediately turned towards the windows, not in the mood to talk. Satoru got inside and smiled at your behaviour.

When you got home, you both had to run inside because it had started raining. You immediately went to the bathroom to get dressed for bed, without sparing Satoru a look. After you were done, you laid on your bed and pretended to fall asleep.

Satoru, very well knowing that you were awake, gave your shoulder a nudge. “Y/N?”

"Go away, I'm trying to sleep."

“I highly doubt that. Is it something I said?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who was totally oblivious to a girl hitting on me when my girlfriend stood just a few steps away.” You scoffed as you sat up.

“You can’t be serious.” He chuckled.

“Of course, I am.”

“Baby, look at me.” He said. When you didn’t listen to him, he cupped your face and made you look at him. He looked straight into your eyes and said, “You know you’re the only one for me, right? You’re the one who I’m deeply in love with.”

When you didn't say anything, he sighed and stood up. "Come with me." He said giving you his hand.

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my Loverr

You looked at him confused but took it nevertheless. "Why are we going outside? It's raining." You said when you noticed you were being led outside the house.

Satoru knew how much you loved the rain. That’s why if he was going to do this, he’ll do this with the things you loved.

You were still trying to comprehend as to why you were in the rain but you didn’t complain. You loved rain. It helped you calm down and helped relaxing your mind.

Satoru led you in your small house garden. You had already started getting soaked from the rain as you asked, “Why are we here?”

And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

“Why? Getting wet already?” he said as you rolled your eyes and laughed. He smiled at you. He swore his heart swells every time he hears you laugh or sees you smile, especially when he is the reason behind it.

“Let’s dance.” He said and spun you around. You laughed when he pulled you towards him and tried to waltz.

“You’re still a terrible dancer.” You said jokingly.

“Well you’re the only one who gets to dance with me so I suggest you get used to it.” He said, trying his best not to mess up the steps.

“Did you learn the basics of waltzing?” you asked when you saw him doing correct steps.

“Well, I know you love to dance and I’m a terrible dancer. So I tried learning just so you can have, not excellent but at least an average dance partner.” He said, scratching his neck sheepishly.

And at every table, I’ll save you a seat Loverr

You didn’t know that you could fall for him even more. He learned to dance, just for you. He knew you loved to dance so he tried to become better at it, just for you. You knew how hectic his schedule can get but still he took some time off it to learn how to dance, just for you. You loved this man so much and you’ll never get tired of admitting this.

Can I go where you go?

“There’s still something I need to do.” He said, now sounding somewhat nervous.

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him in suspicion, “what is it?”

You didn’t want to think the worse but with the way he was behaving, you couldn’t help it. Is this it? Is he going to break things off? You didn’t know how you will survive if your thoughts came true.

Can we always be this close?

He took a deep breath before reaching for his pocket and taking out a small box. He bent down on his knees and held open the box in front of you. You widened your eyes at sight before you and gasped when you realised what was happening.

“Y/N, I never knew I could love someone as much as I love you. You’re the ride and die for me, the one who is everything to me, the one who’s laugh and smiles makes my day, the one who’s tears break my heart, the one who will always own my heart. And I can’t believe that you love an idiot like me. I want you to be the first and only love for me. I want you to be the one who lights up my day with just a smile, who makes my nights beautiful with just a touch.”

Forever and ever and Ah

“I want to be the one for you who you’ll spend forever with just like you have always dreamed of. I don’t want to spend another minute without you being by my side.”

You’re my my my my

“So Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” he finished, tears falling from his eyes. You didn’t know when you started crying but this moment was the best moment of your entire life. You practically jumped on Satoru as you hugged him.

Oh you’re my my my my

“Yes, yes a million times yes!” you said in between your tears as Satoru hugged you back. When you pulled away, he slowly slipped the ring onto your ring finger.

You immediately leaned in and kissed him, pouring all your unsaid love into this kiss. He kissed you back with the same passion as you. You felt like you fell for him all over again. The love story that started long back when you were in university, when you never thought he even knew your existence, when you never thought he’ll notice you, when you never thought he would even speak yet alone dance with you. And you definitely didn’t think that out of everyone, Gojo Satoru was ‘The One’ for you. But even after everything, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy new year, Gojo.”

“Happy new year to you too, soon-to-be Mrs Gojo.”

Darling you’re my my my my

Loverrr <3

________________________________________

ever blushed while reading your own writing? I just did lmao. Hope y’all liked this!

[toxicanonymity]

steady as she goes.

3.5k, Clement Mansell x f!reader | spotify playlist CHARACTER BACKGROUND: He does a lot of crimes but car theft is the only thing referenced. He loves Jack White 🎶. He's sexy and has swagger. Hot clips with audio 🥵 🥵 SUMMARY: He takes you out on his idea of a date. WARNINGS: I8+, unsafe p in v (car), creampie. Praise. Mild hybristophilia (craving that criminal cock). Canon-typical destruction of property. Reader can straddle him. Jack (White) gets cucked (by Clem's vocals). ONE SHOT. A/N: Dedicated to @milla-frenchy: happy 500 followers! 🎉 well-deserved (masterlist). I'm so glad we share an interest in this man. And THANK YOU, gifmakers!! Always inspired by gifs from @boydholbrook-fan, @ilovewhiteroses, and more. Co-written with my partner, "Jordi" 🖤.

A car cruises down your street blasting music, but you don't think it's Clement. It's too early. The sun is just starting to set, and you're fresh out of the shower. It's still an hour before he’s supposed to pick you up. But sure enough, the loud rock music gets close enough to make out the White Stripes. You look out the window, and his classic car is rolling into your driveway with the top down. Shoot. You're not ready. But goddamn, he looks good. Too good to worry much about the time. 

You grab the closest item of clothing - a black slip dress – and throw a silk robe on over it. As you rush down the stairs, the car door opens outside. You wait a minute for him to ring the doorbell, but he doesn't. You stick your head outside and he's reclining with his butt against the passenger door and his arms crossed. You slip on a pair of shoes and go out to the driveway. 

********************************

This man is wild. You can tell already, and you met him just last night.

He came into your bar. You took his order and he said, “Whatever you’re drinkin’.”  You were only drinking coke with grenadine, but to your surprise, he nodded without hesitation. You made the drink and watched him take his first sip. “Man, this shit ain't bad,” he said. He had big energy, and his presence really commanded the room despite how casual and carefree he acted. He put the Raconteurs on the jukebox.

Throughout the night, you felt his eyes on you and had a few tense moments. His hand grazed your hip as you passed each other. When you came to give him a refill, he introduced himself before going to play pool. At one point, when he was leaning forward to line up his shot, you noticed a gun sticking out of the back of his pants. You discreetly warned him that the manager would kick him out if she saw it. 

“Keepin’ me outta trouble. That sure is nice of ya, sugar.”

You smile shyly. “Just hide it,” you tell him 

“Why don’tcha come on out and watch me put it away?.” 

His charm was irresistible. 

You quickly found yourself out in the parking lot, pressed up against his car with his nose dragging up your neck.  “Mmm,” he hummed into your skin. “Not every day a lady sees my gun.” You felt something against your hip, looked down, and were startled to see him holding the gun. “It's okay baby,” he reassured you, then opened the passenger door to the car. “Wanna touch it?” 

“That's okay,” you shook your head, still flustered. “It looks nice though.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout I let ya shoot it tomorrow?” he asked as he leaned over to open the glovebox.

“Really?” You asked, heart fluttering. 

He acted like he was mentally debating it, then laid his weight into you against the car again. He rested his hands loosely on your sides. “Really,” he murmured, then leaned in for a slow kiss -- no tongue, but it felt pornographic nonetheless. “Pick you up at eight.” 

Instead of going back inside, he got in his car and peeled off, blasting the White Stripes.

********************************

You take in the view of Clement leaning against his car in your driveway. He's wearing a dark, button-up shirt and a chain. His shapely arms stretch the material. 

“You're really early,” you smile, almost breaking into a laugh. “Wanna come in while I finish getting ready?” 

“I dunno about that,” he drops his hands to his sides, then stands upright and slowly steps forward. He looks you up and down and his voice becomes sultry as he gets closer. “Look ready to me.” 

You assure him it'll only take fifteen minutes. 

“I dunno if I can wait that long,” he murmurs as he comes within arm’s reach. He runs his hands down your sides, his expansive palms gliding over the silky robe. 

You suppress a giggle. “You can wait fifteen minutes.”  

“Course I can,” he murmurs, getting right up against you. He brings his mouth to your ear and lowers his pitch.  “But I ain't gonna.” He grabs your ass. “Mmm.” 

Your cheeks heat up. Has he noticed you're not wearing panties? “Look perfect,” he insists. He goes to open the passenger door. All the thoughts are gone from your brain.

You get in the car, no bra, no panties, no jacket. And somehow you feel completely comfortable. 

-

Clement rests a broad, veiny hand on your thigh as he drives. His touch is light, and he occasionally takes his hand away to make a turn. When he passes the shooting range and keeps going, you ask, “I thought we were gonna shoot.” 

“Oh we are, darlin'. You're gonna be my gorgeous gunslinger.” He smiles and turns up the music.

He drives to the outskirts of the city, pulls into an industrial area, and parks behind a big abandoned building. There's one flood light and it’s buzzing, casting a flickering white light on the gravel. 

Clement parks and turns off the car, then gets out. He pulls a six pack out of the back seat. You get out and join him at the back fender.

He opens a bottle of PBR beer and takes a swig, then offers you your own bottle from the six pack. 

“I'm good,” you decline.

“You sure?” He asks, holding the new bottle up. It's a Mexican Coke.

“Oh, wow,” your face lights up.

He opens the bottle with a wink and mentions, “didn't have cherry.” 

Your heart flutters and your ears get hot as you accept the drink.   

You sit on the back of his car talking and enjoying your drinks for a while. You shiver and he asks, “you alright?”

“Well, I'm not really dressed,” you laugh. 

“Lucky for you, this car came with a jacket.” He hops off the trunk of the car and reaches behind the driver’s seat. When he returns a few moments later, he’s wearing a vintage brown leather jacket and holding a jacket for you. 

“Looks about right, whatcha think?”  

“Yeah.” You carefully step down off the car. 

"Hold on,” he says and drapes the jacket over one arm. Then he steps in closer and nudges his fingers under your robe, hitting your bare shoulders and giving you goosebumps. He nudges the robe off, and it falls down to your elbows. You take it off. His eyes glue to your chest. You rub your arms. He holds out the jacket for you and you let him put it on. 

He looks you up and down and gives a low whistle. “Perfect,” he nods. Then he steps closer and slips his hands inside your jacket, sliding them along your silk dress, then resting warmly on your lower back. He pulls you into him for a hug. Your erect nipples are poking him through the fabric. He lets out a low growl and pulls you in tighter. A warm, mostly soft bulge presses into you and makes you throb. He noses your hair and inhales as he grabs a handful of ass. 

“Ready?” He asks in a low growl, and you've forgotten what he's referring to. 

“Hm?” You respond. 

“Ready to shoot?”

“Uh, yeah.” It doesn't seem like the safest environment, but there's something sexy about it, too. Your gut tells you he's dangerous, but you like it because he makes you feel safe at the same time. Like you’re not the one in danger. 

“One second.” He grabs something from under the driver’s seat and puts it in his pocket. It looks vaguely flask shaped but taller. It barely fits. Lastly, he gets his gun out of the glovebox and puts it in the back of his pants. 

—

Clement lights a cigarette, then you walk with him toward the floodlight. He puts his arm around you and offers you the cigarette, but you decline.

“Mmm good girl,” he murmurs with the cigarette still in his mouth. “I can tell ya ain't *too* good though.” 

“Hey. I turned down beer and cigarettes. How do you know I'm not good?”

“Just got that vibe, baby.” He squeezes your arm. “And I sure am glad.” 

There are multiple wide garage doors along the side of the building. You arrive at a door that's lifted up two or three feet.  He holds it at the bottom and slides it up another foot or so. You still have to crouch down, and you hold your dress and the jacket against your bare thighs as you do it. It's spooky inside. Way too dark, and the space is derelict. 

Once Clement's inside the building with you, he pulls a string hanging from the above. Then he drops his cigarette and the sparks bounce over a dirty concrete floor before he stops it out. Several bulbs buzz awake along the high ceiling, evenly spaced but far apart. The furthest one is against a half painted brick wall. There are crates stacked up along some of the walls and a few in the middle of the space. As you get closer, the light clearly illuminates a host of bullet holes in the back wall. There are also casings on the floor. On the wall to your right, some of the windows are busted out. 

He takes his jacket off and lays it on a crate against the wall. He removes his gun from his pants and puts his leg arm around you as he shows it to you. It’s a silver gun with two swallows engraved on the handle. The birds have their wings spread and are facing each other. 

“It was my daddy’s,” he says. “Only thing Mama saved for me.”

His face hardens and he turns and aims toward the back wall, triceps bulging under his shirt. He pulls the trigger. The gunshot is loud, but not as terrible as it could be. Debris bounces off the wall.

He hands you the gun, and. you accept it apprehensively.

“Are you sure this is okay? Here?” You have to wonder about people hearing the gunshots, and plus how you're destroying the wall.

“Don't you worry, darlin’. Place won't be around much longer anyway.” 

“Okay.”

“Ever shot a gun?”

“Yeah but I'm rusty.” 

“You'll be fine, darlin’. Go ahead.” You aim it hesitantly, half expecting the entire wall to crumble. Clement gets behind you and braces his hands on your arms. “Steady now,” he murmurs. His body is so close to yours, you get butterflies. Then he puts his arms around you. He doesn’t help you aim right away. He noses your temple and inhales your scent. “Mmm,” he hums. You relax your arms, holding the gun with your elbows bent. Then he plans a wet kiss on your neck. “Can’t help myself, sugar.” He kisses and sucks at your neck and you moan. He lightly bites you and you take your right hand off the gun to reach back for his head. You're gushing, and wonder if it's going to run down your legs at this rate.

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head. “Wanna see ya shoot first.”

You let out a disappointed sigh, and he rests his hands on your hips. He presses his pelvis forward, and a hard shape in his pants gives you a rush of need. He murmurs, “You feel that? Oooh.” His hands on your hips pull you back on his bulge. “You can have it when you're done.” 

You compose yourself and aim the gun again. He slightly adjusts your arms and directs you toward an unblemished patch of paint straight ahead, just above the exposed brick. “Hit that, and we’re done.”

It only takes you one shot.

“Well hot damn!” He celebrates. “Look at you.” You hand the gun back to him. He slinks around you, hugs you from behind again, and murmurs “don't even need my help, do ya,” then kisses your neck again. “Let's go,” he says into your skin, then retrieves his jacket from the crate. As you're walking back toward the garage door, he turns around and starts walking backwards and whistling. You glance back and he's pulled a bottle of lighter fluid out of his pocket. He's trailing the liquid as he walks. 

Your heart jumps to your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Ohh, don't worry, darlin’. It'll burn slow at first. Plenty’a time to get outta here.” He holds the garage door up for you to duck under. He flips the lid of the lighter fluid closed and crams it back in his pocket. 

You back away as he takes out a matchbook. He lights a match and drops it into the lighter fluid. The fire races under the garage door and Clement’s eyes are beaming darkly in the glow of it. After a moment, he says, “Woo! Lets go, baby.” You're speechless, and very turned on. He takes your hand in his and charges toward the car. His stride is so long, you're nearly jogging to keep up.

“Hahaaa,” he laughs to himself as he gets in the car. He revs the engine and turns on the music. He pops a breath mint. He sings along with Blue Orchid, and his voice really isn't half bad. 

“Where are we going?” You ask.

He looks at you fondly for a moment. “Love a woman who's up for adventure.” He puts his hand behind you to reverse.

As he drives by the building, you crane your neck to see. The fire is only a flickering glow through the busted out windows so far.

He turns down the music only slightly. “Stars are out tonight,” he observes. “Know a spot with a great view,” he offers as you exit the property. 

“Ok,” you try to suppress a smile. 

“Yeah!” He yells and peels off on the main road. You look up at the stars with the wind in your hair. Soon, he turns onto another dark road, somewhat winding, uphill.

-

He parks in a dark corner of an abandoned office park. It's littered with empty bottles and faded cans. The chainlink fence has half fallen down, and there are a couple of steel drums. Clement gets out of the car.   With most of this part of town abandoned, the light pollution isn't very close. You're up on a hill now, too. 

He takes the lighter fluid out of his pocket, squirts it in the barrel, and drops the plastic container in with it. Then he lights the matchbook on fire, drops it. And a blaze quickly grows in the barrel.

Then he gets back in the car and moves the seat back. He leans over and pulls you in for a heated kiss. Then he pulls back and murmurs, “Now get over here” as he takes off his jacket. 

—-

Thankfully, the car is roomy and so are the seats. You take off your jacket and put the robe back on. The air is cool and crisp and feels fine. As you climb over to straddle Clement, he greets you with his hands on your thighs. He slides his palms all the way up the backs of your thighs and reaches your bare ass. Then he lifts your little slip dress and says “God *damn*,” at the sight of your bare cunt.  “If I knew this. . .”

“You didn't let me get ready,” you lightly punch his chest with a hint of laughter, cheeks burning. He chuckles.

“Well good. Guess I'm *never* gonna let ya get ready.” Your heart flutters at the implied future. He sticks his left hand between your legs and cups your bare cunt. “Oh, baby.” You hover above his thighs while he leans back and unbuttons his pants, then unzips and pulls them down to expose a massive bulge in his white briefs. Your breath hitches at the sight. 

He grabs your ass and pulls you forward so your crotch meets his cotton-clad bulge, and a shock of desire spreads through your body like fire. He thrusts upward and you moan at the contact of his warm, hard, package. He kisses you and uses his hands on your hips to rub you against him with your mouths connected. He breaks the kiss with a sigh and says, “Fuck, let's go.” He shoves his hand down his briefs and you allow him the space to take out his commanding cock and balls. Your mouth falls open. 

“Not as huge as it looks,” he reassures you. “Gonna love every inch of it.” You nod. It's the girth that has you wide-eyed.

“Oh you're drippin’ on me, sugar.” He lets his thick manhood rest against his lower belly and pulls you in so your clit presses against his warm, smooth shaft and you’re aching to have him inside you. “Let’s feed this hungry pussy already.” 

He holds his cock as you hover over it then begin to slowly lower yourself, getting closer to entry. You pause, and he runs his tip through your dripping folds and helps spread the slick down his shaft. Then he nestles his tip at your entrance and you twitch. 

You begin to sink down on him, with his tip spreading you wide open. “Mmm,” you whine. 

“Yeah, good girl. . . you can take it, baby.” It's every bit as big as it looks. You sink down, feeling taken apart in the best way, and he pulls you down flush. 

Speared on his engorged cock, pleasure races through your chest and thighs, out to every inch of your body. 

“You good?” He asks, chest heaving. 

You rise up then sink back down.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs. “want ya to hear somethin’.” He reaches for the tape deck and changes the cassette. He presses play and it's Ball and Biscuit by the White Stripes. 

“I know this one,” you smile. It's a sexy, languid alt blues song. 

“Just wait for the next one,” he murmurs, looking at you with a raging lust in his eyes. His cock twitches inside you. He pulls your face into his again and lifts his hips, pushing farther into you. You've never felt so full. “Oh baby,” he breaks the kiss. “You feel so good.” His face is so handsome in the flickering fire light. His blue eyes look almost black. The slice of bare flesh in his eyebrow is too sexy. You run your hands through his hair and he groans at the light rake of your fingers against his scalp.

He lifts into you to the beat of the song. You begin to roll your hips in sync with him. 

“Ohhh, yeah,” he breathes. Part of you wants him to lose control and ravish you, but this slow fuck is perfect for the intense stretch of your cunt around his cock.

You kiss and moan as your bodies move together, and the pleasure swells deep inside you, all around his cock. He nudges the silk robe off your shoulders and pulls down the straps of your dress. He groans at the sight of your breasts. He covers one with a hand and one with his mouth and his whole body is moving in time with the music. Your chest feels light. For the rest of the song, your body is wrapped around his, and his hips are slightly lifting you with each thrust.  

The same song starts over, but it's not the same singer. The voice is smoother, deeper than Jack White’s. You pull your head back to listen. Clement studies your face, and it takes you a few seconds to recognize the vocals. It’s him, Clement. 

“Holy shit,” you mutter, and his face comes to life. “Your voice is–God.” It's hard piecing sentences together impaled on him.

“You really like it,” he marvels. 

“Of course I do, it's . . . perfect.” 

His eyes soften with affection and he kisses you deeper, smoothly thrusting. He seems to take up all the space in your body. 

The passion between you intensifies until it might burst. You need all of his body. You break away from a messy kiss to undo one of his shirt buttons, then another, and he unbuttons the rest in a hurry, and leans back against the chair as you spread his shirt. His chain sparkles in the firelight. It's hanging slightly above a chest tattoo that has the same birds as the gun. His tan skin glistens in the flickering glow.

You plant your hands on his hard pecs to ride him. The movement of his hips becomes more pronounced, and soon he's taken over. He thrusts upward sharply but smoothly and starts fucking you from the bottom, grunting and sighing. He pulls you down on him each time he thrusts. You moan, feeling like you're on the brink. 

He pulls you close again and kisses you sloppily while your bodies move as one. “Clem, I'm gonna–”

“Mmm,” he cuts you off. He grunts and moans against your mouth. He's close too. 

“I'm gonna fill ya up, baby. . .You want that?” he pants. 

You nod.

“You want big Clement dribbling’ down your thighs?” 

You nod urgently.  

“That's my girl.” His massive hands move you on his cock, and you whimper as you begin to unravel. You clench around him, and he fucks you through it. Then he grunts as he thrusts upward “nngg—ohhhh, uugggh.” He pulses into you, warmth spreading in your core as you finish choking his cock. 

You collapse into his arms and twitch with aftershocks as he cradles your head. After a minute, you're still impaled on him and he says your name. You pull your head back. 

He looks back and forth between your eyes. A firetruck siren interrupts you. There are more sirens in the distance. Clement shifts his head to look past you, through the windshield, through the broken chain-link fence. His eyes illuminate warmly and he breaks into a small smile. You look behind yourself to see a building on fire in the distance. It's now half engulfed in flames. 

What a view. This man is wild, and you can't get enough of him. 

-------- -------- Thank you so much for reading!! If you want, you can subscribe to notifications on @toxicfics for all my fics. If you want to be on a Boyd Holbrook character tag list lmk but fyi I sometimes write dark. I have a dark fic rn called The Raid with Steve and Javi. Javi captures reader to make her get clean (off drugs) and she's very horny for them. Steve shows up in part 2, then he has his own PWP one shot, Javi isn't home. Series ongoing.