#paris writes!

[sleepyhutcherson]

please write for peeta!! <3

18+, smut, minors dni, gn!reader, teasing, begging.

it’s my birthday! here’s this short thing i wrote for peeta…haven’t wrote in a bit so bare with me. also im back :D

On a boiling hot summer day, Peeta has his cheek pressed up against the counter, his head to a side as he hunches over his seat. There had been barely any customers today, but luckily you came by to give him some company for a bit until you had to head out to run a quick errand, leaving Peeta waiting for you like a puppy.

You weren’t gone for too long so you’re surprised when you walk into the bakery to see your poor boy suddenly so drained. His face is flush, beads of sweat evident, strands of his blond hair sticking slightly to his forehead. He was obviously just looking forward to going home, clearly tired and overwhelmed by the heat.

“Hey,” you greet, approaching him by the counter. He doesn’t sit up, glued down to the cool counter as he hums a simple response. “Tired?”

“Hot.” He mumbles, a soft whiney sound following. You run your hand through his blond hair, softly petting him, wishing you could do something to get him to feel at least a little better—he still had a few more hours until he could close up. “I Want to go home.”

You frown a little, his tone desperate. “I know, I know,” you soothe, continuing to pet his hair. All you wanted was for Peeta to feel good. “You can go home in a few hours…” that doesn’t make him feel much better, you notice that immediately.

With a soft sigh, you simply make your way over to the other side of the counter where Peeta was at. This causes him to sit back up, perking up with confusion. “What are you…?” He simply watches you, brows knitted.

You knew your boyfriend well.

You stand behind him, your hands beginning to message his shoulders carefully. He’s surprised by this but immediately relaxes, not even questioning you. He lets out a soft sound of pleasure, his muscles relaxing at your touch.

“You’ve been working so hard,” you praise, your hands continuing to work with his shoulders. Peeta melts against your touch, feeling himself ease up at your words and touch, eyes slowly closing. “You deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Peeta’s eyes blink open, his body reacting with excitement, having some idea at what you were hinting at with that tone you used. He clears his throat that suddenly went dry, trying not to be obvious about how much he desired you right now but he was always terrible at hiding it.

“Yeah,” he replies, turning around to face you now. You’re standing up while he’s still sitting in his chair which only makes you tower over him, something that oddly enough made him hard.

Your hands cup his face, holding his gaze as he stares up at you with those puppy eyes that always made your heart warm. “Mm, yeah you do,” you softly caress one of his cheeks with your thumb, staring down at him. “Too bad we’re still here.”

Peeta’s eyes soften, brows furrowing together at the thought of you making him wait. You were only teasing, you loved seeing him beg desperately. “No, no, we can…” he trails off shyly, still looking up at you but now much more flustered.

“What was that?” You ask, one of your hands travelling to the back of his head, tangling your fingers between his hair. He swallows, words failing him as he tries to speak but he’s so fucking lost when you have him like this. “Hm?” You yank his hair back a little, his head lolling back slightly, a soft whimper leaving his lips involuntarily.

“We can just…” he stammers again, heavily panting now as you tug on his hair. He can’t bring himself to say it, and the only thing that falls from his lips is a pathetic plea, “please.”

You smile, somewhat content with his response. “Aw, my poor boy,” you coo, letting his hair go now. He looks back up at you now, eyes soft and full of lust.

You settle yourself between his legs, kneeling down in front of him. Now he’s looking down at you but the roles haven’t changed. You run your hands over his thighs, looking up at him with a slight grin as he tries his best not to make a sound. Sure, there had been basically no customers all day but it was still a possibility for someone to walk in.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” Your hands inch closer up as you speak, holding his gaze. You can see how hard he’s trying to hold back any sound. “Okay?” You sternly ask and he nods immediately. You smile, “good boy.”

Peeta lets out a soft groan when he hears your praise, your hands making their way up to his clothed crotch making him buck his hips up. “Shh, it’s okay.” You softly say, moving past to start to unbuckle his pants for him.

Before you know it, you have him in your hands, stroking his length at such a slow pace that it practically has him crying.

“Please, please…just—just…” he sighs, face flush. His beautiful skin was glistening in sweat, more than before, cheeks pink.

“What, hm? What do you want?” You tease, your hand stopping fully. He’s trying not to buck up into your hand but you’re making it so difficult for him.

“I want you,” he mumbles, gripping the armrests to the point where his knuckles turn white. “I do, I do. Please, please just…I want you.”

[lilislegacy]

*percy seen from a far, wearing a suit*

piper: do my eyes deceive me or is percy jackson wearing formal clothes? since when does he have the ability to look like a domesticated human being?

frank: how come HE, percy of all people, king of untidiness, can wear a cream linen suit and look like a celebrity, but when i tried one on i looked like a man-child going to a high school dance?

hazel: sweetie it’s just because it’s such a casual suit, and you’re much more elegant than percy is!

annabeth, turning to them: um okay, hi percy’s best friends? can you guys compliment him without insulting him?

leo: his ass looks incredible.

grover: has he been working out?

annabeth, side eyeing them:

annabeth: okay, you have all now either insulted him or hit on him. how about from now on, you do neither?

rachel: how about we do both? because i’ve actually just perfected doing them at the same time

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[creelarke]

He turned “babe I lost my ring” to a whole love poem 😭

[mischievous-thunder]

[paingoes]

whumper pushing whumpee to the ground, ordering them to get back up, and kicking them back down each time they try. repeat as many times as you like. especially w whumper getting more snippy each time.

“i said get up” while they’re making it physically impossible

physically and mentally exhausting them in addition to hurting them. forcing whumpee to participate in their own abuse.

[parkerflix]

—cielo en la mente

miles morales x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst

wc: 4.5k

synopsis: miles morales had you seeing double. but what if it wasn’t your eyes playing tricks?

warnings: atsv spoilers! canon divergence

taglist: CLOSED as of 6/19!

part of my 1k celebration! & part two to this fic!

You had been ignoring Miles lately. It wasn’t that you wanted to see him, but you were confused. Nothing seemed to make sense, or add up.

You sighed, sweeping up the last of the hair on the ground. You mom had already packed up and gone home, telling you to finish the last of the cleaning while she got dinner ready. You went over to the wash bowls, rinsing the hair brushes from the barbicide.

The front door had been locked, and music was playing from the speakers. A bang came from the front door, and you turned around to see Miles standing there.

His hair was out of braids again, and he seemed to be wearing the baggiest jeans and sweater you’d ever seen. He waved at you awkwardly, and you walked over, standing in front of the lock. His eyes were pleading with you to open the door, and you sighed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to leave him outside.

You unlocked the door & opened it so he could come inside. The silence between the two of you was awkward, but neither one of you knew what to say.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

You fiddled with the keys, and went to lock the door, stopping when he asked you a question.

“Could you do my hair? Please?”

It was such a simple question, but it still caught you off guard. Miles normally never asked you to do his hair, he’d just show up during regular hours or text you in the middle of the night and you’d do his hair in your room.

You steeled yourself, and nodded.

“Yeah. Follow me.”

Miles quietly followed you to the washbowls, and sat down at a clean one.

“Do you want me to use a different shampoo & conditioner?”

He was quiet for a moment,

“Can you use the ones you like the most?”

You hummed in agreement and pulled the mint scented shampoo and conditioner. You eyed the deep conditioning treatment, and grabbed that off the shelf.

Returning back to Miles, you leaned his head back into the wash bowl before starting the water.

“Let me know if it’s too hot or cold, okay?”

“Ah!”

You quickly turned off the water and panicked before you heard Miles let out a laugh.

“I was joking. The water is fine.”

You started up the water again and flicked some towards his face.

“Ack!”

“That’s what you get for scaring me like that!”

You both laughed, and soon it turned into a comfortable silence. Grabbing the shampoo, you made sure to lather his hair & rise it out. Miles was secretly a cry baby when he got shampoo in his eyes, so you covered his eyes with your hand.

Grabbing the deep conditioning treatment, you placed it in his hair, making sure to really get his roots. His hair had definitely seen better days, and you were confused how it got to this state when you were the last one to do his hair.

You finished with the deep conditioning treatment and went on with the regular conditioner, the minty scent hitting your nose as the cap opened.

“Smells good.”

Miles had been quiet up until now, and you genuinely thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yeah. Mint.”

He hummed.

“I like it, it seems to be very you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, and nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you nodding.

You rinsed the last of the conditioner out of his hair, and wrapped it in a towel, tapping his shoulder to let him know you were done.

He opened his eyes and stretched out, reminding you of a cat.

“That was nice. You should do this as a profession, I think it would suit you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Har har. You act like I haven’t been doing your hair and the neighbor’s hair since I could walk.”

Miles gave you a small smile and walked over to your station.

You got your tray ready with all your supplies, not noticing Miles was watching you.

You were different from Miles. He wasn’t sure if you existed in his universe, but he hoped that there was a version of you, hopefully near him. He had seen how you treated him, so gentle but had an edge with your words. He wondered what his counterpart in this universe meant to you.

“You know,” he started, catching your attention when he paused.

“You’re pretty special. You have a cool heart.” Miles inwardly cringed at that, wondering what the hell a cool heart could be.

“Mmm. Thanks.”

“Also, thanks for doing my hair.”

You nodded, ignoring the way something in your stomach flipped.

Miles was never one to outwardly express his gratitude, he was always the type to just show his gratitude and appreciation in smaller ways. He was more reserved with his words in that sense, and this change was different to you.

The rest of time you were doing his hair was relatively quiet, Miles asking you small questions here and there. You enjoyed the atmosphere, happy that you got to spend some quiet time with him.

You finally finished the braids after a little while, showing him the end result. It was the same style that you had done before, but you just thought he looked good in them.

Miles got up from the chair, and got closer to the mirror to inspect them.

He looked at himself in the mirror, unable to shake off a feeling of happiness that swam through him. His hair had never really been in braids before, it was something that he just assumed didn’t suit him, but here he was. He could tell that you put so much effort and love into them, it made his heart swell with joy.

He turned to you, and engulfed you in a hug. He wasn’t one to be affectionate with people he just met, but there was something about you that drew him in, and made him comfortable.

You froze for a second, before hugging him back, ignoring the nudging questions at the back of your mind.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You had asked Miles that day if he wanted to come over for dinner, but had declined and said he had a few things to do. You understood, but felt a little sad that he wasn’t going to come over.

The rest of the night had gone by pretty unceremoniously, giving you time to think about Miles and his weird behavior.

You sighed and texted him, seeing if he was willing to meet you for breakfast in the morning at your spot. He quickly responded with a yes, and a small pit of anxiety formed in your stomach, nervous for the morning.

The next morning your alarm went off and you groaned, not wanting to get up. Turning your alarm off, you closed your eyes for a moment, before remembering you were meeting Miles for breakfast.

Swearing under your breath, you quickly got up and threw on a sweater and jeans, not even bothering to worry about anything else.

Your mom seemed to still be asleep, so you slipped out of the front door, quickly switching your slippers for shoes at the door.

Your spot wasn’t far from either of your houses, and the walk was always nice in the mornings.

Yosi’s diner was the place that you’d been going to even since you were little kids, back when there were 5 of you coming. Even after your parents stopped coming, you and Miles made it a tradition to only have breakfast there. It held memories of you guys sharing good news, and bad.

Miles had seen you cry because a date had stood you up the night before, and you had been his support when his dad passed. Yosi’s diner meant everything to you both.

You finally made your way to the entrance, the flickering sign feeling like a signal that you were home. Opening the door, the soft tinkling of the bell along with the smell of pie placed a smile on your face.

Yosi was standing behind the counter, telling one of the servers some instructions. She was slightly older than you & Miles, with an aura that made everyone comfortable around her. Her parents had opened the diner, naming it after her when they found the place, hoping for her to inherit it.

She glanced at you and smiled. Shooing away the server, she rounded the corner of the counter and came to give you a hug.

“It’s so good to see you! Donde estabas escondida? It feels like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

You chuckled, embracing her.

“I’m sorry. El salón está tan ocupado, toda la gente quiere su pelo arreglado. I’m sure quiñce season is right around the corner.”

She laughed a parted from you, turning her head to the booth at the end of the right side of the diner.

“He’s been waiting for you.”

You hummed.

“He’s in a mood, good luck.” She walked away after that, going back into the kitchen.

You took a deep breath and walked over to the booth. Miles had been watching you since you walked in, eyes never leaving you until you sat down.

“You’re late.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We never agreed on a time.”

“We always meet at the same time.”

Before he could respond, food came to your table, your usual and his usual.

He always got the same chocolate chip pancakes with some whipped cream and a few cherries on them. He never mentioned it, but you knew he got it because his dad used to get them and share with him. You assumed it helped him feel closer to his dad, and understood it was his way.

Both of you tucked into your food, not saying anything until he broke the ice.

“So, que quieres?”

“Damn, what’s with the attitude?”

“There’s no attitude here mamí, just asking a question.” He said, taking a big bite of his pancakes.

You dropped your cutlery, glaring at him.

“Seriously, qué te pasa? What the hell did I do to deserve this weird ass mood?”

Miles didn’t want to say what he was thinking, but he was jealous. He hadn’t seen you in forever, and he had passed by the salon the night before, seeing you doing someone else’s hair when you were closed. He could tell that you seemed comfortable with whoever the guy was, your smile the same you normally only gave him. He hated feeling this way, especially because you weren’t huge on jealousy. Previous partners of yours always were jealous of Miles, and you’d go to him and tell him how annoying it was, not knowing they had reason to feel jealous. He knew you better than anyone, and he wasn’t shy to show it.

“Nothing.”

You raised a brow, not buying his words.

He glanced up at you, seeing your eyes already trained on his face.

“What?”

“Seriously, what’s with you?”

“Nothing, mamí. How was your night last night?” He had hoped that switching up the topic would divert your attention.

“Well, mi mama hizo pupusas, she left some for you. She missed you at dinner, you know.”

“I miss your mom too. Tell her I’ll try to come over one of these days for dinner. Did you miss me at dinner?”

Your face heated up slightly, and you cleared your throat.

“I-no.”

Miles’ face had a huge grin on it, and you knew you were in trouble for it.

“Oh so you did miss me? Mamí, if you miss me that much, you always know where my house is, we could remedy that.” He winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“First of all, you know I hate when you call me mamí. Makes me feel like those groupies Jaime has. Secondly, you wish I missed you. I haven’t climbed up your window since you decided you'd rather spend everyday with me, papi.”

He laughed at that, he knew you knew he hated being called papi by anyone but his mom. Somehow, whatever tension that had grown between you two had dispersed and left you both pushing away any budding feelings. The rest of breakfast had gone without addressing it anymore, and Miles was thankful.

When it was time for the bill to come, Miles stopped you before you could even pull your card out. You thanked him, and he waved you off, not too worried about it.

“Well, thanks for breakfast.” You said, grabbing your things and getting ready to leave.

“Can I walk you home?”

You nodded and you both got out of the booth, waving bye to Yosi when you left the building.

“So, what’s with the gentleman act?”

Miles clutched his chest like he was wounded and gave you the saddest look he could muster.

“Amor, cómo puedes decir eso? I’m always a gentleman.”

You pushed him slightly, making him burst out into a fit of laughter.

“The only time I’ve seen you be a gentleman was when you were dating that cute enby.”

“Which one?”

“The one with glasses??? God, I can’t remember their name but they really were like your polar opposite, I have no clue how you managed to date them.”

Miles thought about it, and nodded his head.

“Ah, I know who you’re talking about. They were cool. Liked science, and wanted to major in it. We still talk now and then.”

“Mírate, keeping friends who aren’t just me! Rio should be proud.”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Yet you still hang out with me. Admit it, me amas.”

You were too busy looking around the neighborhood to notice Miles’ face get flustered, and he shrugged it off, knowing you didn’t have any hidden meaning behind it.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m stuck with you.”

You glanced at him and smiled, before realizing you guys had already made it to your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Te veo mañana?”

He nodded and you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking into your building.

Once you had disappeared into the building, Miles groaned and ran his hand down his face. His feelings for you were going to be the death of him.

The next day you regrettably had school.

Both you and Miles went to different schools, him getting into Visions and you going to the local highschool.

You slipped into your uniform, never quite getting used to how annoying the polo shirt looked on you. Fixing your hair a bit, you ran to grab your shoes from the doorway before Miles showed up.

Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, sipping a cup of coffee watching you frantically grab all of your stuff for the day.

“Llevaste comida?”

You grabbed an apple from the counter & a couple bucks off your piggy bank in your room.

“Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t be lying to me. No puedes ir sin comer, te vas a enfermar.”

“I’m not! I’ll see you when I come home?”

She nodded and you gave her a peck on the cheek, running over to your window and making your way down the fire escape.

Miles was already waiting for you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Don’t-”

“Two days in a row, I’m starting to think you’re hiding a boyfriend up there.”

“Oh shut up.”

The walk to your school was fairly the same except today he bought you a breakfast sandwich. You gave him a questioning look, and he just ignored it.

Making it to your school first, you both stopped at the entrance, shuffling to the side to not block the doors.

“So, any big plans for today at school?”

Miles shook his head.

“Nah, there’s a bunch of lectures and maybe a lab or two. The school’s not that much different than yours.”

“Mmmm, well. Don’t forget to make friends!”

Before he could respond, someone behind you called your name and wiggled their brows.

“Nice boyfriend! Maybe that’s where you sneak off to all the time!”

You flipped them off & took a deep breath, turning back to Miles.

“Maybe you should be worried about making friends.”

“Nah, they just know you and I are close.”

“What’s that about though?”

“What?”

“You sneaking off?” Miles tried to hide the jealousy that was creeping into his voice.

“Oh that.” You scratched your neck and gave him a bashful smile.

“Everyone thinks I’m seeing someone but I go out and grab lunch nearby and then come back. We’re technically not supposed to leave campus so…”

Miles laughed and you felt some pride in your chest.

“That does make more sense.”

You both idly chatted for a little longer before the first bell rang, and you knew he had to go.

“I’ll see you after school?” You said, hopefully.

Miles shook his head and gave you a sad smile.

“Sorry amor, I gotta help my mom and my uncle with some stuff at home.”

You nodded, understanding.

He ruffled your hair and you swatted his hand away, annoyed.

“I’ll see you around then!”

He saw you walk into his school and checked his phone, seeing he was late for school. He didn’t really care though, knowing he would rather spend time with you than be on time.

On your way home from school, you decided to stop in at a bookstore.

You were strolling the aisles, trying to find something that you were interested in. You had found a book, and someone accidentally knocked into you.

“Sorry!”

You turned around and saw Miles there, in a completely different outfit from when you saw him leave for school.

“Oh hey! I thought you were helping your mom with something at home?”

Miles scratched his neck awkwardly and nodded.

“Yeah, turns out she didn’t really need my help.”

“Oh did Aaron have it under control?”

“Yes!” He coughed and glanced around the store.

“Yeah, she had him helping so there wasn’t that much for me to do.”

“So you decided to come to a bookstore?”

“Yes?”

You hummed and turned around again, looking for the book again.

You could tell that Miles was still hovering behind you, hearing the shuffling of his Jordan’s.

“Miles,qué quieres?”

“Uhh… I was wondering if that book was good? I’ve been trying to find something new to read that isn’t an action type of book.”

You whipped around, stumbling into him not realizing how close he had been behind you.

“Are you asking me for a book recommendation? Because if so, we should do a book swap!”

“Book swap?” He tilted his head and gave you a confused look.

“Yeah! We can find books from our favorite genres for each other! I know they have a little cafe area and we can read them there!”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great! Do you wanna meet up front in like 15 minutes?”

He nodded and you clapped and walked off to a different section of the store.

15 minutes later you both met up at the front, both with books in your hands.

Getting to the register, you plucked Miles’ book out of his hands and paid for both of them. He gave you a look and you just shrugged.

“Think of it as payment from breakfast yesterday.”

You thanked the cashier and both of you had made your way to the cafe.

Miles watched you order a drink, and declined your offer for anything. Both of you sat down at a couch, and you put the bag with the books in the middle.

Pulling out both, you handed him the one you picked out for him.

“Six of crows?”

“Yeah! It follows like a group of thieves and you get to see all the different perspectives, I really enjoy it.”

“Oh, sounds cool.”

You smiled and looked down at the book you held.

“Oh hey, Lord of the flies!”

“You’ve read it before?”

You shook your head, a small frown tugging at your lips.

“No, you and I used sparknotes to write my essay on it?”

Miles’ eyes widened.

“Right. Right.” He cleared his throat.

“Well, after that, I decided to read it and I think you’d enjoy it.”

You hummed and nodded, opening the book and beginning to read.

Miles opened his book as well, and was reading, until he felt your head on his lap. He looked down and you and you smiled, seemingly not thinking anything of it.

Miles on the other hand, his heart was racing and he was hoping you couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t uncomfortable per say, he just didn’t know if it was normal between you and his counterpart. You didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and were fixated on the book.

A little while had passed, and Miles had seemingly got more comfortable, mindlessly playing with a strand of your hair. You were halfway done with the book when your phone had gone off. You sat up, Miles’ hand dropping down to his side.

Picking up the phone, you saw your mother had texted you to come home, she needed you to run an errand for her.

Packing up your stuff, Miles stood up when you did.

“I gotta head home, my mom needs me to run a few errands for her.”

“Want me to help?”

You looked at him and smiled.

“Sure. I know mom would love to see you anyways.We can talk about the books on the way there.”

You both quickened your pace, and you grabbed Miles’ hand dragging him along with you.

Neither of you had realized the whole way to your house that you were still holding hands, fingers intertwined.

Miles had told you what he thought about the book so far, and he was interested in it. You explained some things he wasn’t sure about, and gave him some fun facts about the characters and the author.

In turn,he told you about the book he had recommended and about the movie that they had made based on the book. He hated the movie.

Finally getting to your apartment building, you climbed up the stairs to your apartment, dropping his hand to look for your keys.

You opened the front door and the smells of cinnamon permeated your senses.

“Ya llegué! Traje a Miles también!”

You kicked off your shoes and Miles followed suit, staring at the photos on the walls. The walls were covered in pictures of you and your mother, of you and him, and your families together. He pulled his attention away, following you into the kitchen.

You gave your mother a hug from behind, kissing the top of her head. She let out a laugh and shook her head. She would always say you’re her favorite child (you were her only child).

“Dónde estabas? Necesito que lleves esto para mi.”

“Estábamos en la tienda, quería otro libro para leer.”

Your mother turned to Miles, giving him a big hug. He hugged her back awkwardly and you snickered at his eyes pleading for your help.

She parted from him and pointed to the fridge.

“Te dejé algunas pupusas, llévalos a tu mamá también.”

“Uh gracias, I’ll make sure to take them to her.”

Both you and your mom shared a glance and she shrugged, before walking over to hand you a package.

“Just this?”

“Yes, and then no getting sidetracked, you have to come home straight after. I trust you will be with them, right Miles?”

“Si!”

He didn’t miss the way you bit your lip, trying to hold in a laugh. You both bid your mother farewell, and went to deliver the package.

The walk to the place was quiet, Miles had no clue where you were going. You cleared your throat, eyes still forward.

“What was that back there?”

“What was what?”

You stopped walking and Miles stopped a moment after, turning to look at you.

“That accent, Miles!”

“Huh?”

“My mom literally side eyed you, she was definitely confused as to why you were trying to pull a joke on her…”

“Oh, right.”

“I found it funny though, mainly because I do that to her all the time.”

“Right.”

Miles started walking again, and you followed behind him, grabbing his hand that was just swinging.

“Estás enojado conmigo?”

Miles stopped and looked down at your hands that were intertwined. He had a strange feeling in his stomach, he wasn’t sure if he could pinpoint it. He was trying to get home, to figure out how to even get back there, but he didn’t even know how long it had been. Time was relative and he wasn’t sure if he was too late.

He also didn’t know why he felt attached to you, a sense of comfort while being around you. He secretly hoped, that even at home, you would be there.

“I’m not mad.”

“Good. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

He squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile.

“Nah. You’re good. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm, okay. But let me know if I do okay?”

“Got it.”

The rest of the walk to the place was filled with you two talking about different things, laughter from the both of you, once again never letting go of the other’s hand.

Miles realized that the area you guys were going to seemed familiar. It was his uncle’s place. His hands started to get sweaty, and he was panicking. He had actively avoided his family, watching from afar.

You, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. You hadn’t seen Aaron in a while, and you always wondered if he was doing okay. Miles always seemed on edge when you asked what he and Aaron did, which made you suspicious but you also knew he didn’t have to tell you everything.

You both made it to the hallway, and Miles squeezed your hand once more. You assumed it was an unconscious thing, but Miles did it to reassure himself.

“Why don’t I wait here for you?”

“Come on, I’m just gonna knock on the door and if he’s not there, we’ll leave it on his doorstep.”

He nodded and took a deep breath following you.

You knocked on the door, fully assuming no one would be home. Miles told you beforehand that he was helping Rio, so you just did it to reassure Miles. You weren’t sure if they had fought beforehand, but you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

You knocked once more, hearing a voice on the other end yell for someone else to open the door. You straightened yourself up, plastering a smile on your face. Miles rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, taking another deep breath.

The door creaked open, and when you made eye contact with the person at the door, your heart fell to the floor. Miles Morales stood in front of you, still wearing his uniform, his smile slowly dropping as he looked at your hand, being intertwined with someone. He looked at the person, eyes growing wide and jaw clenched.

Miles next to you felt his heart stop for a second, unsure what to do. He was staring at himself, who if looks could kill, would have him 6 feet under.

You dropped your hand from Miles’, thoughts going a million miles a minute. The main thought though was:

What the hell is going on?

taglist! @nameless-beanie @carmendanny2 @kukigirli @rayendrop @lovefks @anuncalledbridge @immortal-t @riki-gf @shuriri4life @starboychanyeol @sakura-onesan @the-smut-plug

if your name is in bold i was unable to tag you!

[bunny-jpeg]

goin' for gold! (simon edition)

simon "ghost" riley

cw: smut/pwp, olympics fic, jealousy/possessive behaviour, simon hates the french (not really, but kinda), couch sex, cowgirl, big dick!simon, breast worship/play, hickies, naked!reader/clothed!simon

bunny says! reblogs, tags & comments feed the rabbit!

the summer olympics didn't matter until they did. while simon didn't care if the united kingdom won gold in things like track or fencing. he cared if they won in rugby or volleyball. but regardless, this was an england household. so why were you standing there in an oversized team france shirt.

"love." he said, not wanting to make accusations. he leaned forward in his spot on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his fingers interlocked. he raised his eyebrows, "what's that?"

you turned to look at him, you were standing nearby the couch. the word 'france' across your pretty tiddies. your pretty tiddies shouldn't say france. you asked, "what's what?"

he pointed towards your chest, "that... why is it team france, love? did you buy the wrong one. i know the colours are the same but, c'mon."

you pointed to the front of the shirt and smiled, "well, i'm cheering for france this year. since they're hosting! i always cheer for the team hosting the event." your smile was so pretty with your explanation for what you were doing.

he leaned back a little and placed a hand on his strong thigh, "lovie." he gave a small nod, "you know we're in england right? ya can't go around in that."

you nodded, "i know, si. that's why i'm wearing it in here." in reference to the home you both shared. you really weren't getting it. he watched you come over to him and sit down on his open lap. you cupped his face and smiled, "you don't mind do you?"

he chuckled and cupped your face. his eyes met yours, but his attention kept getting pulled to the garish shirt you wore. he sighed and replied, "of course i don't mind, but." he leaned in closer, his voice hot in your ear, "i think you'd look better without a shirt."

he couldn't help it, he felt a little jealous. france had you as a supporter for this years games? you should be cheering with simon on the couch. he'd even let you have some of his beer or even make you one of those sweet cocktails you loved so much. you should be in a different red, white and blue. the lines should criss-cross to make the flag of the united kingdom.

not france.

you poked your lover in the cheek, "you want to fuck while the opening ceremony is happening?" you giggled.

he reached for your soft hip and gave it a gentle squeeze, in reality he wanted to get you out of that shirt. he wanted it burned if he got his way. but he wouldn't say no to sex with you. he wasn't blind.

his pretty girl all snuggled in his lap as the opening ceremony was about to start. so he smiled and then took the bottom of that horrible t-shirt and yanked up.

you were in a flurry of giggles as you got up from his lap to give you a better ability to take your shorts off and then your underwear. you were soon naked, and simon had tossed your shirt somewhere on the floor. you smiled at the sight of him laid back in the couch and his hand around his leaky cock.

"excited for the games?" you asked as you got back onto his lap. you straddled his waist with your hands in the fabric of his shirt. your cunt painfully close to his erection.

taking simon's cock was a bit of a challenge. his cock was fat and his balls were heavy. when you first saw it, you couldn't fit it in your mouth. but years of dating have earned you enough courage to take it all.

you rubbed your slick pussy up against the tip before he took hold of your hips and sank you down on it. you moaned loudly from the stretch and gripped onto him tighter. you stomach leapt from the intrusion and you started to ride him.

the opening ceremony for the 2024 paris olympics has begun as you rocked your hips against simon. his cock snug in your tight pussy. you felt excitement race through you as you moved.

simon's attention were on your breasts now that they weren't advertising that stupid country. the french. ugh, he would've accepted almost any other country! why not ireland! or america? there were so many other countries! why france.

his hands then went to your pretty breasts once you established your pace. he grabbed at them and panted heavily. but soon touching with his hands wasn't enough and eventually he was kissing at them. which led to bite marks across the skin.

he wanted to see your nipples nice and bruised by the time he finished inside of you. he loved your breasts, doesn't matter if you were in a lace bra or a sports bra or no bra at all! he wanted to touch them, play with them, no matter the size!

the hickies grew darker the more his focused his attention onto the sweet flesh. he could feel your heartbeat under his teeth when he snuck bites further up your chest.

your hands were on his shoulders as you moved. "you feel so good, simon. ah!" you sounded so sweet. a sweet girl like you shouldn't be wearing the french flag! you were too pretty for that!

simon could feel the heat in his cheeks as he felt you rut against him with vigor. the heat reached to his ears and turned them pink as you rolled against him. simon continued to kiss and bite your breasts.

he loved marking you, he loved his hickies on your skin. he groaned against you and felt his cock twitch inside of you.

you kept up the pace, as the pleasure coursed through your body. you pushed the hair out of your face as you continued to move against him.

he praised you, murmurs against your warm breasts. he cupped them in his hands to give him a better angle to cover you in pretty pink and red marks. you were so beautiful.

the television kept playing as you humped against him. your cheeks felt hot all the way to your neck. you clawed at the back of his shirt as you bounced on him.

"my girl." he groaned.

"si!"

"i got ya, love. i got ya, forever." his eyes remained glued on your bouncing tits. he was mesmerized.

"si!" you whimpered as you really worked his cock. it all felt so good inside of you. you whined loudly when you orgasmed and held onto your lover's shoulders.

simon continued to sucked on your breasts. his teeth grazed across your nipples as he felt your cunt clench around his cock. as you slowed down, simon picked up the pace to reach his own orgasm.

his buried his face between your breasts and thrusted up into you rapidly. he felt them jiggle against his cheeks and soon he finished as well. you whimpered once more while he let out a low groan.

"that's it. that's it, love. so good for me." he panted as he slowed his pace.

soon after, you got off his lap and laid out on the couch, your head rested against his shoulder as you felt the lingering feeling of post orgasmic bliss. simon then wrapped an arm around you, keeping you close to him.

he showered you in kiss and love. you did look better without that horrible shirt on. plus, he loved the sight of your pretty breasts. no need to ruin it with a horrid country across 'em.

when he got you into bed to relax after the fucking you two had. simon went back to the living room and found your shirt on the floor. the bold letters of france glared at him. he turned off the television and grabbed the shirt before he tossed it in bottom of the trash in the kitchen.

you didn't need that, it was only right you'd be cheering for england. after all, they were going to blow those frenchies out of the water. the olympics didn't matter, until it did. <3

[ladyofthenoodle]

fic idea from 2020 that the paris special unearthed from the archives of my brain:

So far, there wasn’t a single thing about this new reality that wasn’t terrible. She was grounded, for some reason, which she didn’t know about, and was therefore double grounded for breaking the rules of the grounding. Which she hadn’t known about!

To make matters worse, when she’d gone to text Alya to complain about the unfairness of it all, she realized she didn’t have Alya’s number. In fact, she didn’t have anyone’s number except her parents, Nadja Chamack, her grandmother, and someone called The Supreme.

She next turned to Tikki to vent, but when she checked her (admittedly cool) purse, she found her kwami wide-eyed, terrified, and most horrifiyingly, muzzled—which Marinette couldn’t figure out a way to undo. 

So she was stuck in the bakery on a Saturday morning with angry parents and no one to talk to and no ideas on how to get out of the worst version of Paris possible.

Which is when Adrien Agreste’s bodyguard walked in. Brief hope flared in her heart before extinguishing just as quickly when she saw he was alone.

Which she should’ve expected. With how awful this world was, she wouldn’t be surprised if Adrien didn’t even exist here. She couldn’t imagine a world this awful with him in it.

She bagged up the Gorilla’s order with a heavy heart and sent him on his way before looking out the bakery display window with a sigh.

Only to spot Adrien Agreste himself, with an asymmetrical haircut and thick kohl around his eyes, staring back at her. He was different than her Adrien—and she couldn’t say she was a fan of the hair—but he was just as handsome, and his eyes even more striking with the eyeliner.

When he noticed her looking, his eyes widened and his cheeks started to turn pink.

Was he blushing?

Marinette could feel her own cheeks heating up as he stared. She ventured a small, embarrassed wave, and he—he!—

He lifted his own hand, brought it to his lips, and blew her a kiss.

Crash!

Marinette, along with about 300 macarons, toppled to the floor.

“Good morning, Marinette!” said Adrien Agreste, during a time that was decidedly morning but far too early to be described as ‘good.’ 

She scowled at him.

“Girl, you okay?” said Alya Césaire, who was—who was speaking to her.

Right.

Alya Césaire was speaking to her. Because Alya Césaire, Hesperia’s favorite lackey, was apparently Marinette’s best friend.

And Adrien Agreste was the boy Marinette was in love with.

She plastered a smile on her face. “I’m great, Alya! Super dee duper. Absolutely swell. What a beautiful morning with all the sunshine and the…. morning.”

Alya looked unconvinced.

“And the Adriens!” Marinette added hastily. “I mean, the Adrien. Because there’s only one Adrien and he sure is… here. Hello Adrien! Your face is looking very attractive this morning, because you are an attractive person. And that’s… something positive I can say about you.”

“Thanks, Marinette!” said Adrien with a dopey little smile. She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or just deeply stupid. If her diary entries were to be believed, it was probably the latter. “Your face is looking attractive this morning as well. Did you do something new with your makeup?”

Marinette had done her makeup the same way she did every day, but she supposed his Marinette opted for a boring girl next door ‘no makeup makeup’ look.

Alya squealed next to her before giving her shoulder an excited squeeze.

Marinette took several deep breaths.

“Yes, I thought I’d try something new.”

Adrien smiled and nodded.

Alya shoved her forward.

Marinette barely managed to restrain herself from sending Alya a patented Toxinelle Death Glare. Instead, she smiled wider at Adrien.

Her cheeks hurt.

“Thank you soooooo much for noticing my makeup. That is a thing I am excited about. I love putting on makeup to impress cute boys, tee hee!”

Adrien’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—I know you always dress for you, Marinette! That’s something I really admire about you.”

His eyes were so earnest, so sincere, and for a second, she almost—

Marinette cleared her throat. “That’s so nice! You can leave now.”

Adrien blinked. 

“Bye!” She shooed him.

“Oh, um, bye Marinette,” he said with a sheepish wave, and then he left.

Nailed it.

“Girl, what the actual fuck?”

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

No but the wild thing about TTPD and how HUGE the set was is how it totally subverts the expectations of the woman scorned. It IS female rage and she's leaning into it full stop.

After everything that's detailed on the album -- the slow and agonizing death of a relationship, the blurry lines of infidelity, the gaslighting of a new lover, the mind games, the trauma of living in the public eye and of being a woman with power that threatens the patriarchy -- it would be easy to guess she'd lean into the sadness. Hell, before TTPD came out I thought so too, because I thought this was going to be a heavy, painful album she might want to roll out quietly on stage!

And it is painful, but she has galvanized it into the most theatrical production of her career. She is not going gently into the night with this. She's not letting past slights against her roll off her back and act like they didn't affect her or like it rolled off her back. She's not sitting in the "shame" of being conned by a man who used her. She's not hiding away the fact that she fell for his lies and blew up her life in the process. She's owning it and she's making A GODDAMN SPECTACLE out of it. She's channeling this very private hurt into the loudest woman the WORLD has ever seen, and show the performance of the idea of love for what it really was -- an act of the highest order.

You think you can break me? You think you can play with me as inspiration for your own art? You think you can use me for your content? THINK AGAIN. I'm going to put on the biggest goddamn show of my life and everyone will know it.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you.

They (all the theys) may have kicked out the stage lights, but SHE is going to be the last one performing.

[literallyjusttoa]

"Sunny!" you cry, "Why did you draw the entire Trojan royal family from oldest to youngest in two days? That seems wildly unhealthy!"

"hurghhhhhhhh" I reply.

Anyways here's the full family portrait

(Only four of these people survive the Trojan war btw :D)

[sleepyhutcherson]

derek fucking reader and making sure they feel every ridge of him 🤭

derek danforth size kink x gn!reader

18+, smut, minors dni, size kink, derek being a little mean, spanking, degradation, super short, name callling ( slut, whore ) !

keep these requests goinggg!!!

��Feel that?” Derek teases, gliding his cock in and out of your hole. You were practically drooling, bent over his desk— where he should be working, to be fair— feeling every vein of his massive length.

You nod, unable to answer with words.

Derek smacks your ass, causing you to let out a rather loud whine. “Speak up.” He instructs through gritted teeth. He was panting heavily as he continued filling you up with his cock.

“I- I do,” you hurried to speak, gripping the edges of his desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re so big.”

He grins at that, shoving deeper inside of you. He loves to hear that and you knew it. “Such a good slut,” he praised, gripping your hips.

“Derek, ‘m so close!” He could feel you clench around him but he wasn’t going to let you cum that easily. You should know better.

He smacked your ass again— this time just a little harder than the last— before leaning down to whisper in your ear; “who said you could cum yet, whore?”

[nikswonderland]

[thecuriousbeauty]

One-Love! (Harry Styles Oneshot- Tennis player! Harry x Tennis Player y/n)

Synopsis:- This is a one shot inspired by Paris Olympics Gold medalists Katerina Siniakova and Tomas Machac, a beautiful couple who broke up before the olympics to focus on their game, and teamed up in the mixed doubles event to win the gold for their country. They shared a sweet kiss after their victory.

Word Count: 4,219

Warnings: Smut. Some sweet sex, a little bit of angst, and lots of fluff.

_______________________________________________

The sun was bright, warm, and not harsh, falling over y/n’s face through the small gaps of her window blinds. The alarm goes off and she wakes up with a soft groan, expertly reaching out a hand to silence it, without having to look. 

“Wakey wakey, it’s a beautiful morning!”She hears her boyfriend, Harry, and curls up on her side, hiding further under her blankets and acting like she’s still sleeping as she hears his footsteps coming towards her.

She feels the bed dip down with Harry’s weight as he climbs on, and leans over her, his breath fanning her face. “Aw, look at you, my sleepy head.”

y/n has to trap in her smile as she feels his gentle fingers stroke over her hair, moving the strands away from her face. “What am I gonna do to wake her up?”Harry wonders, smiling as he knows she’s playing with him. “Maybe I should go with a tickle attack.”

y/n gasps as his arms wrap around her waist, and hands sneak up to his oversized shirt she was wearing. “You can’t wake people up with tickle attacks!”, she says.

He laughs, pulling her so her back is to his chest. “You’re awake then?”

“No.”, she grumbles, turning around in his arms, and resting her forehead on his shoulder blade.”Why is it morning so fast?”

“Well, we did stay up till late. You wanted to go another round and then-”

“-Oh shut up.”, she cuts him off, and opens her eyes, meeting the forest green ones staring back at her. Harry’s face splits into a big smile as he rubs his nose with hers, something they always do. “There’s my girl.”

y/n has known Harry since years. They grew up in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends. y/n and Harry didn’t get off to a great start though. Harry and his friends were playing football when y/n and her friend were walking by, and one of them kicked the ball towards them, making it splash onto a puddle right in front of them. The murky brown water fell on y/n’s friend’s new white top. Of course the boys didn’t mean to and they apologized, but since then, her friends wouldn’t look eye to eye with those boys. It seemed like a good grudge to keep at their young age.

y/n had a love for tennis. She loved watching the matches with her dad, and her dad even set up a net for her in the backyard so they could play. He enrolled her in the nearest coaching academy, where she didn’t know that Harry was training as well. 

“Oh Harry! It’s her first day today. Good that you have a friend already, eh?”Her dad smiles as he pats little Harry’s shoulder. The older curly haired boy smiled at y/n, a little smile playing on his lips. y/n tells her dad that she would be okay, and he leaves, promising to come pick her up after two hours. 

“So, you like tennis?”Harry asks, looking sideways at her as they walk inside. 

“Yes. You too?”, she asks, and he nods, putting out a hand. “Friends then?”

y/n smiles, shaking his hand. “Friends.”

“Someone once told me that mornings are the best time to train.”, Harry tells her as he brings his hands up to cup her face. 

“Must be a crazy person.”, she smiles, admiring how some of his brown curls fell over his face. “Yes, she is quite crazy. But I love her.”, he smiles back, dimples popping as his thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “Let’s go, sunshine. Made our smoothies ready.”

“Kiss?”, y/n puckers her lips. Harry looks at her fondly, before pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I love you too.”, she says, ruffling his hair when they pull away and sits up, stretching her arms above her head. 

Harry and y/n get into their training clothes, after y/n freshens up and they get going to the court where they practice. They did their warm ups, and ran some rounds around the court first. Harry and y/n had different coaches, but they train together a lot of times.

“You’re going down, Styles.”, y/n says, pushing her hair back with her head band before picking up her racket.

“You can try, y/n.”, Harry grins, who was jumping on his toes on the opposite side. 

Harry was easily the best player she had played with, and played against. He was quick on his toes, his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, and he moved on the court like a panther. He was something you would call a mastermind, he had moves saved until the last moment and surprised his opponent when they least expected it. Harry had the saddest time of his life when he failed to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics. He got injured during the qualifying match, and he couldn’t be at his best.

“One- Love!", Harry smirks, as he gets a point. 

y/n’s coach thought she wasn’t ready yet during Tokyo, so she was now looking at the Paris Olympics. Winning a medal for her country was her dream and she would do anything to get that. 

“Yess!”, y/n cheers as she gets the match winning point to beat Harry. They always get so close, and playing against y/n sends the gears in Harry’s head turning, and he has to be at the top of his game. y/n walks to the bench, sitting down tiredly and Harry walks to her, giving her a fist bump. “Nice one, babe.”

“Thanks.”, she smiles, taking her water bottle out of her bag and pouring some over her face before chugging it down. “Wanna go again?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve got a session with the coach in the evening, don’t wanna over work myself.”, Harry tells her and she nods. “Shall we go grab breakfast?”, he asks her.

“Sure.”

Harry and y/n get some breakfast, then spend the day with each other before they part for training with their coaches in the evening. 

“y/n, you have six months from now for the qualification rounds.”, her coach tells her. “We have to make a game plan for that soon.”

“I’m at the top of my game right now coach, I just have to keep doing what I’m doing, right?”, she asks. She had won silvers, and golds in the previous tournaments. She was one of the country’s best at the moment. 

“This is the Olympics, y/n, it’s not going to be easy.”, he tells her. “You have to work double as hard.”

“I will. I’m gonna go to Paris this time.”

He smiles at her, keeping his hands together over his knees as he leans to talk to her. She was sitting on the court, arms around her knees. “You know you have to let go of all distractions, right?”

“My social media and stuff? Yeah, I can do that.”

“I’m talking about Styles.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What about him? He isn’t a distraction coach, we make each other better. Besides, we’re competing in different categories, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I want your focus to be on Tennis completely, y/n.”, he stresses. “You can’t do that if you’ve got a love life. And you know as well I do, that Harry will do anything to get this win. He needs it. He’s getting older, and he’s under a lot of pressure. It’s good for both of you to stop dating for a while, at least until this gets over.”

y/n opens her mouth and closes it. “You’ve got what it takes y/n, you are so talented. Isn’t this your dream?”

“Yes..”, she whispers. 

“Then you have to let go of everything and give me your best in these next few months.”

Harry was fed the same things from his coach, and they both stopped seeing each other so frequently. They stayed over less, and there was this air of tension around them as the days grew closer. 

“Babe..”, Harry says. He pauses the show they were watching, making y/n turn to look at him. “Hm?”

“W-We, um, we need to talk.”

y/n nods, sitting up, and Harry takes her hand. He didn’t want to tell her this, but he had to. Tennis was important to him. This could be his last chance to finally make it. He had to make sacrifices. 

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”, he murmurs. “They’re right, we have to focus on the sport. It’s our dream.”

y/n’s heart squeezes in her chest. “Y-You’re just as important to me, Harry.”

Harry quickly looks up to her eyes, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you mean the world to me. You’re my person, and my everything. Trust me, I thought about this a lot.”

“Me too.”, she agrees quietly. “This is it, then?”

“No. No, please, don’t say that.”, he shakes his head, leaving her hand to scoop her into his lap. One of his hands cups her cheek, while the other lays at her hip. “We can get back together..when things are not so hectic.”

“So..we break up for a few months to focus on Tennis?”, she asks, tears springing in her eyes, and Harry’s heart breaks as he sees that. He nodded. “M-My dad..he wanted me to win in the Olympics, it was his dream. He even told me about it before he d-died. I-I have to do this, y/n.”

She nods, understanding. She had the same love for the sport. An Olympic medal is the best achievement for any sports person.

“I love you.”, she whispers, her forehead touching his. 

“I love you too.”, he whispers back, kissing her. His tongue strokes over her bottom lip and she opens up, to let his tongue explore her mouth. Her fingers play with the curls at the back of his head, as his hands run up and down her sides. “One last time?”, he whispers against her lips, eyes looking at hers. 

“One last time.”, she agrees, joining their lips again. Harry’s lips trail down her neck, and her jawline, leaving his marks. “N-No seeing anyone else, right?”, she asks.

“Do you want to?”, he asks, slipping his hand under her shirt to grope at her breast. She moans, pressing closer to him as she feels his boner through her shorts. “No..n-no one’s as good as you, Harry.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”, he smirks, rubbing her nipple between his fingers. “Let me see you, baby.”, he whispers, tugging her shirt off her body. y/n does the same to him, and continues to straddle his lap as he marks her up.

She runs her hands over his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and over his inked chest. “Just like that baby, go down on me, just like that.”, he murmurs, hands moving to her hip to get her into a rhythm. He plays with her breasts and showers her in kisses, groaning against her skin. 

“H-Harry I need you.”, she moans softly. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Harry picks her up, hands under her ass as he takes them to the bedroom, their lips connecting again. He lets her back hit the bed softly, before hovering over her. “You are so beautiful.”, he punctuates each word with a kiss down to her stomach, while his hand moves to her core, feeling the sleekness of her wet folds. 

“Right back at ya, Styles.”, she says, pulling him closer as she runs her hands down his back. Harry groans, not able to hold on any longer. “Let me get inside you, darling.”

She spreads her legs, and he pushes his dick inside her. She moans at the feeling of being full. Harry fills her up so well. He starts moving in and out of her, his eyes looking at hers. “You feel so g-good, y/n.”, he moans. “So perfect for me.”

y/n looks at the love of her life, her chest bursting with emotions. She wished they could be here like this, with only the two of them in their own world forever.

“H-Harry?”, she asks, opening her palm, wanting him to hold her hand while he fucked her. Harry looks at her, also brimming with emotions. He tangles his hand with hers immediately, squeezing it tight. “I-I love you y/n. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too.”, she smiles, her body starting to shake as she feels her orgasm coming. She clenched around his dick, and he brought his other hand to rub her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head as she whispers his name, again and again, as she reaches her high. Harry cums after she does, and he lays on top of her, exhausted.

“We’ll be fine, love.”, y/n whispers, running her hand through her favorite head of curls. 

Harry smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We will.”

_____________________________________________

y/n and Harry hadn’t seen each other, or talked to each other for months. Harry missed y/n so much that he felt a constant tugging in his heart. He trained alone with his coach, and he missed the times when they would mess around with each other. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, he missed her scent in his room, on his clothes, he missed everything about her. The only thing that kept him going was his game.

y/n wasn’t any better. She was alright for the first few weeks, but then the empty space next to her on the bed, the lack of warmth when she woke up in the mornings, and the lack of cheesy jokes made her think about Harry. She was on a strict diet, and her coach put her on a different workout regime. It was so extreme that after a while, the only thing on her mind was Tennis. Her mind was trained. 

Over the months, y/n’s agility improved along with other aspects, and she became great at reading the game. She was beating everyone she played against. Finally, it was time for the qualification rounds. 

Harry had finished his match, and he had won, so he had booked his spot in Paris, representing Britain. 

“Back to the hotel now?”, his friend, who’s also under the training of his coach asks him. 

“Next match in court number five! y/n y/l/n versus Yasmin Reinardo!”, Harry hears the announcement and his eyes widen. He wanted to go see her.

“Um, you go ahead.”, he told his friend, before rushing off to court five. He joined the audience, making it just in time.

He felt so many emotions when he saw her. It had been six months. His sunshine, his baby, his love. She looked incredible. Gorgeous as always, and she had gained some muscle around her arms. Her hair was tied into a high pony, and she wore her favorite white head band which she thinks is her lucky charm. 

Harry was so proud as he watched his girl on the court, she was on fire. Her opponent was good, but not good enough. 

y/n won the game, and the other girl broke into tears. After all, she also had the dream for representing her country at the Olympics. y/n pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back as she mumbled something Harry couldn’t hear, but he smiled. He quickly went down to meet her, as she wiped the sweat off her body with a towel.

“Congratulations, love.”

She spins around so quickly when she hears his voice, and her eyes melt. She was overjoyed with emotion because of the win. She was going to compete in the Olympics for the first time! And the first person that she wanted to see was Harry, who was right in front of her.

“Harry.”, she gushes, before throwing her arms around him. Harry didn’t mind the sweat, he needed the hug just as much as she did. He squeezed her to her chest, holding her close. “O-Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”, she shakes in his arms.

“You made it love, you’re going to Paris!”, he rubs her back, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He heard the camera click, and knew their photos were being taken. Oh well. He couldn’t worry about that now.

“Y-You?”, y/n pulls back to look at him. Harry grinned at her, dipping his head down to rub his nose with hers. “I’m coming along too.”

She grins back and squeezes him. “I would have been so mad if we broke up for no reason. We get a free ticket to Paris!”

________________________________________

The Olympics will be held in another four months.. They caught up that day during the qualifications, grabbed a dinner together to celebrate, and then they were back to training. 

They would see each other more often now, because all the British representatives trained together. Harry and y/n were both in better spirits now that they could see each other frequently, even if it was strictly during practice. 

They would exchange subtle glances, touch hands when they exchanged things, and talk when they got time, but it was mostly about the game. One month before the Olympics, their team was yet to decide who would play for the mixed doubles. 

“You both have played together before, right?”, one of the coaches asked Harry. “y/n and I? Yeah, in the commonwealth, we won bronze.”

“I think they’re our best shot.”, the guy says, looking at the other coaches and the players. 

“What do you guys think?”

Harry looks at y/n, from across the room, like I’m okay if you’re okay.

Yes, there was their break up thing, they hadn’t kissed in months, there would be sexual tension having to play right next to him as his team member, and she couldn’t let that affect the event she was competing for. But it was an amazing opportunity, she had two chances to get a medal.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ve played together the most, and we make a good team.”, y/n said, and Harry smiled. 

So that’s how they started preparing together, for the mixed doubles along with their own events. 

“Are you nervous?”, y/n asks one night, as she sits on the floor stretching. “We’re flying to Paris tomorrow, Harry.”

“I’m excited about going to Paris, but am I nervous about the actual reason we’re going? Yes.”, he says, making her chuckle. They were the only ones there, and Harry was putting his racket into its case. “It’s gonna be unreal. I mean, we’re getting a step closer to our dreams.”

y/n nods, stretching her legs out. “Any tips from your experience? About the whole adjusting to playing in the world’s biggest tournament thing.”

Harry laughs lightly, turning to her. “Babe, this is my first time too.” He crouches down so he’s looking at her. “But I’d say just focus on your game. You are the best, believe only that. Tune out everything else. You might feel like listening to the crowd who’s cheering for you, but tune that out too. You focus on doing what you’re good at. You’ve sacrificed so much for this, and you deserve to win. Play with that feeling.”

y/n looks into his eyes, and nods as his words seep into her brain. Her eyes moved to his lips, he was so close. Just one kiss. 

Harry leaned closer, but it was to grab her leg. “Let me stretch you out.”

“Y-Yeah..”, she looks away from him. Harry had only gotten more attractive, and she loved seeing him in his short tennis shorts and a loose shirt. His tattoo covered muscular arms made her go weak in the knees.

“Lay back.”, Harry says and she does. Harry’s hands slowly lift up her leg, one of his hands on the back of her thigh and the other on her foot as he applies some pressure to it. She can’t stretch herself out so well. 

“Other leg.”, Harry smiles, keeping that leg down and his hands reaching for her other leg. She lifts it up, and he stretches it out like he did with the other. He was on his knees in front of her. Then he folds her leg, making her knee touch her chin.

“Hold it for another second..”, he hums, counting down. He did the same for the other leg, and she feels like her muscles are dissolving under her touch. 

“Pancake time.”, Harry pats her thigh, and she sits up, leaning over with her hands on the floor, going into something called the pancake stretch. Harry goes behind her, and applies pressure to her back. “Head down..that’s it, hold it there.”

She groans, feeling the stretch. Harry can’t help but smile, she can’t see his face anyway. “Alright, arms up.”

He stretches her arms, holding them above her head, and when he’s done, he kisses the top of her head. “All done.”

“Thanks, H.”, she smiles. “I’m gonna get going, make sure I’ve packed everything.”

“Mhm.” He wishes he could go with her. 

“Soon.”, she promises, like she read his mind, and he smiles as she kisses his cheek before walking away with her bag.

_____________________________________________________

It was crazy. Harry and y/n were in the Olympic Village, competing in the Paris Olympics. It was unbelievable. y/n had to pinch herself when she got there. It was every sports lover’s dream. They got a little tour when they arrived, and she was awed by all the different areas for the numerous sports competitions. 

She stood beside Harry for the opening ceremony, along with their other team members as they were welcomed. She was overwhelmed, thinking about how hard she had worked to get there. 

Her own event was going to be after a few days, the first event was her mixed doubles with Harry. They knew very well each other’s strengths and weaknesses, who should cover what, and everything else. They were well prepared and planned.

They won every game they played, and made it to the finals. 

y/n wanted to win this for Harry. She was going to give it her best. 

“We got this.”, Harry squeezes her hand as she jumps around, minutes before the match. “y/n, we got this.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and looking at him. A medal was sure. If not gold, silver. But their eyes were on the gold. Everyone wants to win.

She walks to Harry, and hugs him. “We’ve gotten this far love, this is the final stretch.”, Harry whispers against her hair. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

“I-I’m proud of you too.”, she pulls back to hold his face. “A-And I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t live without you, Harry.”

“Neither can I, baby. I need you in my life, I can’t fucking breathe if I think about losing you, ever.”, Harry squeezes her tight. “Now, it’s time to win a medal. What do you say?”

“I say yes.”, she grins. 

Everyone cheers as Harry and y/n enter the court, shaking hands with their opponents. The fans loved to cook up theories about Harry and y/n, being seen out a lot of times with each other and their chemistry on the court is just magical to watch. Harry and y/n give cheeky responses when they're asked about it during interviews. They never confirmed their relationship, but their fans think it's obvious.

“One- Love!”

They score a point, and grin at each other before their hands meet for a fist bump. It was a tight game, keeping the people watching at the edge of her seats. They won the first set.

y/n and Harry are seen whispering to each other and their coaches as they drink their water and electrolytes during the break. They knew where their opponents were weak and just how to win the second set just like they had won the first.

And they do.

y/n screams in joy and astonishment. The fact that she just won an Olympic Gold Medal for her country felt so unreal! Harry was going through the same emotions. He made his father proud, he achieved what he had been working towards for years. 

The whole world was looking at them, but Harry could only see one person. His partner and the love of his life. 

“We won Harry! We won!”, she jumps high into the air, before wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him. Harry laughs as he lifts his girl up, spinning her around. They were laughing and crying at the same time. When Harry lets her feet touch the ground, she grins at him through her tears, and he cups her face. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Harry.”, she chokes back, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed her. He kissed her like he didn’t for 10 months, he kissed her like he couldn’t breathe, and he kissed her like they just became World Champions.

Kateřina Siniaková and Tomáš Macháč- Gold medlists, Mixed Doubles. Paris Olympics, 2024.

[the-c41n-instinct]

Danny can't go through ghost shields

In a last-ditch effort to protect the town, the local government and the GIW commission the Fenton parents to make two shields, one that will go up around their lab, to hopefully keep the ghosts in, and let them continue their studies.

And one around the town. To keep any rouge ghosts from attacking the town to get back to the ghost zone, and to keep out any of the Usual Culprits from making their way back after getting through a natural portal.

Danny finds out the day before they're scheduled to be set up, and spends all day and night getting any rouges, shades, or blob ghosts into the Zone. When they do finally go up, Danny, exhausted and in pain from having to wrangle so many ghosts in such a short period of time, gets pushed out of the town without getting the chance to warn his friends or figure out how to not get essentially banished

After getting forced out of Amity, he has to find somewhere new to stay. He can't pick just any small town, there isn't enough ectoplasm there to sustain him, so he goes for a big city, specificallyone with a hero hanging around (reader's choice) After all, the casualties and emotions from those big fights produce just enough ectoplasm to keep a teenage half-ghost half alive.

Sorry about the terrible formatting, I wrote this on mobile, copy pasted it from discord, and wrote it out while actively hiding my phone from my teacher :P

Anyway, vaguely inspired by this post by @suretkerim

[mybuginette]

i have more of this