#pillow x ice cube

[pixeldoodles]

Chat what do we think about Pillowcube

[ikilledtvguy]

random bfdi doodles :p

sorry the colour pallete for this is a bit weird i was messing around w/ colours :P

[silverstyff]

i like shipping leafy alot

dont judge me i love rairpairs and i love leafy fight me if you dare

[circusclowne]

happy (late) lesbian visibility week!!

AND THEN PROCREATE CRASHED RAAAAHHHHHHH

[pricetaglover]

Song: We the Kings - Sad Song ft. Elana Coats

[seattlesellie]

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

“Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling�� she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

[twilghtkoo]

pairings. jungkook x bookworm!reader (f)

genres/aus. fluff, established relationship

warnings. jk loves calling reader ‘sweetheart’, mentions of reader’s anxiety, and a short kiss(makeout?) scene, not proofread!

notes. i actually loved writing the first drabble of jungkook x bookworm!reader and i can’t sleep and currently rewatching the twilight movies as im writing this so here’s this :D likes and reblogs are appreciated <33

[ masterlist ]

—

you can’t remember when you had told yourself, one more chapter. but apparently it’s been long considering it’s almost three in the morning. the ice in your coffee has melted into a smaller ice cube, so you take a big sip. not wanting the ice to water down the sweet, creamy taste.

coffee late at this hour doesn’t affect you no more. you drink it now for the taste more than anything. you can thank school and those tiring days of studying hunched over a table. the amount of energy drinks and coffee you’ve consumed should be concerning but you gotta do what you gotta do.

if jungkook was here, he would’ve had a fit and told you drinking caffeine at this hour is bad for you.

but he’s not. he’s at a late night practice and he told you he’s not sure he’ll be able to come over.

you have your two pillows propped up against your headboard, your book nuzzled against your thighs and your stuffed animal under your arm. your bedside lamp creating the perfect lighting for you to see and the perfect atmosphere.

you’re deep into your book, too engrossed in the plot between the love interests that you don’t hear keys jingle and a door softly shut and echo in the quiet night of your home.

you still don’t hear the soft feet padding towards your bedroom until your door opens, revealing your boyfriend.

he looks as if he’s freshly showered, the ends of his hair are damp and stringy, and his face is bare and cheeks a soft red. that’s how it looks after he finishes his skincare routine, he must have rushed over here.

he grins when he sees you’re awake and so do you when you see him, placing your bookmark inside and setting it down next to you. you sit up on your knees, eager to touch him and kiss him, realizing again how much you miss him despite seeing him this morning. that was almost 24 hours ago.

but his eyes maneuver to the coffee that’s condensing, making a puddle on the coaster.

he squints his eyes at you. and it feels almost as if you’ve been caught as a child. you lower yourself to sit on the back of your shins.

“hi kookie,” you smile, acting innocent.

“don’t kookie me. how many times have i told you to stop drinking coffee so late, it’s almost three. you’re not gonna sleep.” he tells you again, sternly. reaching behind his neck to take off his crewneck in one swift movement, the shirt underneath scrunches up with the sweater, revealing his abs. and you can’t help but ogle while you’re being scolded. you can’t blame me.

you frown, “i know, i know. but you know reading and drinking coffee goes hand in hand. i wanted to enjoy reading my book and–“

he moves towards you, placing his knee on the foot of the bed, crawling shortly til he reaches you. his nose brushing yours and his eyes half-lidded. the soft scent of his shampoo and brief smell of mint swallows you, bringing that familiar comfort.

“sweetheart, i know. but caffeine also doesn’t mesh well with your anxiety. you know that. it’s fine to drink it once or twice during the day but late at night is a no.” he softly warns, tilting his chin upwards to catch your lips with his.

it was meant to be a quick kiss but your fingers reach to hold his face, tugging him closer to you until you’re lying on your back and he’s on top. his hands placed on both sides of your head, caging you in, straddling you. both your hands trail its way down from his neck down to his chest, stomach and then they find its home at his waist. pulling him down til his front weighs pressure on your sensitive spot.

both of you moan into the kiss, and your sweet sound sends an alert to jungkook. before you both get carried away, he pulls back, kissing you once more before pulling away.

he hums, deliciously. “though coffee does taste best coming from you.” he gazed at you, eyes shining and lips slightly red. no doubt, you look the same.

“i thought you weren’t coming tonight.” you say questioningly, watching him move your book next to your coffee so he can lie underneath the covers with you. once he’s settled in, he has an arm resting behind his head and the other resting around you.

“i wasn’t, but i really wanted to sleep with you and i wanna make you breakfast in the morning. i saw a recipe i wanna try.” you hum in response, trying to nuzzle your head deeper into his warmth but his t-shirt is blocking what you want.

you tug at his shirt without saying anything and he understands. he sits up quickly to shrug off the fabric, tossing it across the room to land beside his bag before lying back down, holding you.

he lets out a dramatic sigh, “ahh, this is my favorite thing in the world.” turning on his side, you following so you’re both facing each other, legs tangled together.

“i missed you too.” you whispered. he didn’t say it but he didn’t have to, his answer was enough.

your head nestled underneath his chin and against his chest, you kiss the skin.

“what chapter are you on?” he asks, his voice deeper than it was, slumber almost taking over him.

“twenty-eight, i’m almost done with it.”

he hums. “did you start the book today?”

he feels you nod. “my little bookworm.” he coos, scratching your back softly with the tips of his fingers. “go to sleep, sweetheart.”

and you do.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part two | r.c

summary:

"Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

OR; Rafe makes an outrageous suggestion and you? You give in.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs, talk about sex (nothing graphic yet) but the later parts will have smut, so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2k

author's note: pt. two out so soon?? there's gotta be smth fishy going on 🤭we finally get into the PLOT! i hope you enjoy my lovelies, don't forget to leave a comment/like/reblog or share your thoughts with me in the inbox.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. two: "it's born from just one single glance"

A week after the party, it was the first Friday in a while where the four of you didn’t go to a party. After spending a day out of the sea to test out Topper’s new boat, you got picked up some pizza and settled down in Rafe’s living room, where you were still in the same spot several hours later. The empty pizza cartons were stacked on the floor and the four of you strewn out on the couch and various seats.

“You want another drink?”

Rafe was waving his empty glass in front of you, a lonely ice cube clinking in it, an expected eyebrow raised.

You squinted at him, nodding. “Can you get me a coke please?”

“Sure.”

Kelce perked up in his seat at the prospect of another drink. “Hey, can you get me another beer?”

“No,” Rafe answered, without even looking back as he left for the kitchen. “You know where the fridge is.”

“What?” Kelce muttered with a frown, looking over to you as he slumped back down. “You know where the fridge is, why is he getting you a coke?”

You only shrugged with a grin, making yourself comfortable on the couch now that you had more space, while Topper clapped Kelce on the back in consolation.

“Come on man, you know she’s his favorite.”

“Hey!”

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you shucked it at Topper, making him yelp when it hit him square in the face.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right next to you,” you scowled. “And I’m not Rafe’s favorite.”

“You’re a clown if you actually believe that.”

“Fuck you, you’re a clown.”

Topper tossed the pillow back at you, narrowly missing your head by an inch and the pillow fell to the floor behind the couch, landing just in front of Rafe’s feet as he returned.

“I was gone for five minutes, what are you guys fighting about now?”

“Precious over here thinks she’s not your favorite.”

You glowered at the other two boys, while Rafe settled back on the couch next to you, pressing a can of coke into your hands. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing you briefly and shrugged, pursing his lips in agreement.

“Nah, you’re definitely my favorite.”

You stuck your tongue out at Topper when he gave you a knowing look, instead focusing on opening your coke. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything, you two shitheads don’t make it hard for me to be anyone’s favorite.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kelce grunted with a frown and you raised a brow at him.

“You literally had sex in Rafe’s bed last year,” you said, before turning your attention to Topper. “And you’re still obsessed with Sarah.”

Rafe let out a noise, making clear that he was fully agreeing with you. “What she said.”

Topper, while satisfied he had proven his point, still rolled his eyes and Kelce crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I hate it when they team up like this.”

“Shut up and get your beer.”

The next couple of hours passed easily, just as it always did when the four of you came together to talk shit. While you did enjoy going to parties every now and then, you really appreciated just hanging out with your friends and talking about everything and nothing in the safety of the four walls of Rafe’s home.

Only you and your boys. Just the way you liked it.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to go,” Topper said, breaking up the group with a yawn, shaking his head to stay awake as he sat up. “I’m beat.”

“Can you give me a ride?” Kelce asked, standing up and Topper nodded, turning to you.

“Do you need me to drop you off too?”

You stretched your arms, legs long draped over Rafe’s lap as you laid lengthwise on the couch. It was nearing one am and you really should make your way home, but you were far too comfortable to move, having spent most of the day in the sun, which was catching up to you now.

“I think I might stay for a while longer, thanks though.”

Topper clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair, messing it up for good measure as he and Kelce said their good byes, their voices getting quieter as they strolled to the front, the door shutting in its hinges. It wasn’t long after until you could heard Topper’s truck start, and then pull off the estate grounds.

Finally, it was quiet enough for you to hear the music, which was drowned out by Kelce’s constant yapping. You loved him but he was such a chatter box when he drank beer.

“Isn’t Sarah coming home tonight?” you asked into the sudden quietness, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed since you’d laid on the couch for the whole night. The estate had been quiet apart from the four of you causing raucous in the living room.

“Please,” Rafe scoffed. “She’s staying with John B more nights than not, I’m this close to kicking her out for real.”

“Oh come on,” you laughed, leaning up to shove his arm a little. “She’s in love. Leave her alone. And don’t act like you don’t enjoy being the man of the house and having it all to yourself.”

Rafe grinned to himself, shrugging his shoulders a bit like you weren’t absolutely right. Like you said, you knew him. “Eh. Maybe. House tends to get a little quiet sometimes... Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

“Give me a break,” Rafe huffed. “You know damn well you’re not one of my hook ups. They don’t get to stay till the morning,” he paused, turning his head to look at you inquisitively, and you knew that look all too well. He was about to be nosy. “What about yours, anyways?”

“My what?”

“Your hook ups, precious. Haven’t seen anyone around since Jack.”

You shrugged. “Cuz there wasn’t anyone else since Jack, you know that. And he wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend.”

He was quiet, but you could basically hear the gears in his head turning. “I know you’re not into hook ups and shit, but don’t you need to get off sometimes?”

“And risk hooking up with weirdos like Moany? No thank you. I don’t need anyone else to get off.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I know, jesus. I’m just saying… Sex by yourself isn’t as good as sex with another person. If you know what they like. Not everyone has freaky requests like Monique. And if you’re compatible, you know the sex can be insane.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not sure if you liked which direction this was going. He wasn’t about to suggest the two of you having sex…. Right? Because that would be just crazy.

“… jus’ getting sick of having to get to know a new girl every time, ‘s exhausting.”

“You know you can have sex with a person more than once right?”

Rafe scoffed, leaning his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but then they start getting comfortable. I don’t need that right now.”

You waved your hands around, trying to stop Rafe’s train of thought before it could get any further.

“Rafe, stop beating around the bush. The fuck are you on right now?”

He swirled his drink around, downing the last of it before shoving the glass on the table, looking at you.

“What if… We fucked?”

“What?” you stared at him incredulously, like he had just grown a second head.

“I mean, not relationship wise. Casual. Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with benefits,” you echoed, dryly. “Are you insane?”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head at you, not bothering with a reply. You thought that was the end of it, trying to calm your heart down, as it was nearly jumping out of your throat, when you felt Rafe’s hand splaying across your bare legs. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, making you tense and you glared up at him.

“Seriously Rafe?”

“Seriously Rafe?” Rafe mocked you, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, the other hand starting to trace circles into the skin of your thigh, like it was the most normal thing for him to do. “We both know that if you didn’t want me touching you, you’d have kicked me half ways across the room already.”

You wanted to protest, but your words died halfway down your tongue, knowing it was no use with the way Rafe was looking at you. Also, he was a 100% right. Turning away, you stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how his finger tips left your skin tingling, thinking of the most random things to calm yourself down.

There was no use of lying to yourself, a part of you wanted to say yes.

You knew Rafe didn’t do relationships, has never had a girlfriend in all the years you’d been friends. What if being friends with benefits was the closest thing you could be for Rafe? Not only his best friend, but a step further? What if this was all you could get with him?

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. You’re my best friend, I don’t have to tell you anything because you know exactly what I like and what I don’t.”

“Not when it comes to sex!”

“Okay okay, calm down, I was just making a suggestion.”

Rafe trailed off, dropping the topic, his fucking hand still on your thigh. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell that he was biting back a grin, and you hated to think that you were going to give in.

“We’re not telling anyone, you hear me? Not a single soul. Especially not Top and Kelce, they would never let us live this down.”

He turned his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up knowingly. He was your best friend after all, he knew what to say to convince you of his argument. “Those two knuckleheads don’t need to know everything we do,” Rafe said as he leaned in, but you stopped him halfway, your hand on his chest.

“If this affects our friendship in any way, or or…. If it gets awkward or someone… Just, we stop, okay? No lying to get your dick wet.”

“Have I ever lied to you, precious?”

“Uh, yes. Remember when you, Top and Kelce snuck into my gard- oomph.”

Your sentence was cut short when Rafe pressed his lips against you in a soft kiss, his hand cupping the back of the neck. He pulled away, his breath hot on your face. Your lips parted a bit, shock coursing through your veins. You had wondered how it would feel to kiss Rafe for so long, and you had to admit, that the real deal was so much better than anything you could’ve imagined.

“You talk too much,” he mumbled against your lips and you rolled your eyes, brought out of your haze. This was still Rafe. Your best friend.

“Shut up.”

Fisting his shirt, you pulled him closer to you, lips hot as they interlocked. He leaned forward, both of his knees bracketing your waist, one hand moving from the back of your neck to the front, so he could cup your face. Suddenly, you were surrounded by him and if you weren’t so distracted by Rafe’s tongue slipping into your mouth, you’d be freaking out right now. This felt like a fever dream; your hands moving automatically down his torso, sneaking under his shirt, nails grazing his chiseled abs and when Rafe let out a honest to god whimper, you knew you were done for.

There was no going on back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: am i sorry about the cliffhanger? ask me later👀

[rafesheaven]

okay so rafe / drew / Trevor ( anyone would fo the job) is playing with yn's cunt using ice cubes??

pairing: drew starkey x reader warnings: temperature play, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), praising, 18+ mdni wc: 590

goosebumps rose as he trailed the piece of ice down your neck to your tits, your nipples hardening when they came in contact with the frozen substance and a small gasp leaves your parted lips as the searing warmth of his mouth closes around one of your nipples.

“drew…please” you whined, one hand tangling in his hair as he hummed against your flesh, his teeth grazing your nipple before sucking. the coolness and the heat of his mouth had your skin burning, aching for more.

it was embarrassing how wet you were when he was nowhere near your cunt. 

his deft fingers slid the ice down your hips to your inner thighs, your legs trying to close on instinct with each drop that landed on your skin.

drew made his way down your body, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread open as his warm tongue chased after the melted trail of ice, nearing where you needed him the most. 

his hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, leaving an imprint as he sunk his teeth into your skin.

he kissed along your inner thigh, dragging the cube up and down the lips of your puffy cunt, “please daddy…need your mouth”. 

“yeah? you need my mouth on this sweet cunt?” drew murmured.

your hips bucked, a startled gasp erupting from your throat as you weren’t expecting him to put the half-melted cube into his mouth, his tongue sweeping along your cunt. drew wrapped his arms over your hips, holding you down as he buried his face further. he gave long, slow licks against your clit, moving to dip his tongue down to your slit. 

your eyes rolled back into your skull when his tongue prodded at your hole before pushing deep into you, rutting his hips down onto the mattress, groaning at how sweet you taste. your hands clawed at the sheets at the sharp coldness of the ice mixed with his burning, hot tongue.

you cried out when drew worked the ice into your cunt, your body writhing under him at the cold intrusion as his nose grinds against your clit. he pushed his tongue deeper and deeper, working you open, his grip on you tightening to keep you still. 

“so fuckin’ sweet” he grunted, sending vibrations up your spine. your hips bucked against his mouth, feeling the heat of his tongue melting the cool solid further. you choked out a moan as the ice melted, his tongue following, lazily lapping at the water that trickled down your folds. 

he ground his hips more, the friction he gained from the mattress causing him to moan into your cunt, eyes flickering up to stare into yours. “f-fuck daddy…’m gonna cum” you gasped, the coil in your stomach tightening, your head starting to feel dizzy and go blank as he slurped and sucked.

you choke out a moan, your head lolling back onto the pillow, legs trembling and threatening to close around his head. your body tingles with waves of pleasure, your orgasm washing over you as you cry out his name. 

“mmm…good girl” drew hummed, eagerly lapping at your release, pulling a whimper from you as he flicked his heavy tongue against your clit, drawing out your orgasm. 

he kissed his way up your body until he reached your lips, “did so fuckin’ good f’me, baby” he muttered and you moaned into his mouth when his tongue dipped into yours, allowing you to taste yourself on him.

thank you @oceandriveab for beta-reading <3

[xoxochb]

— ice cube of a girlfriend ꣑ৎ‧₊˚. warnings: other than swearing, just tooth rotting fluff, percabeth reference pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades a/n: it’s been cold ‘round these parts recently… and I run naturally cold so I thought of this hope you enjoy 🫶🏼🫶🏼

cabin thirteen was fucking freezing. it was a well known fact that your father was the god of the dead so your cabin was bound to be cold— but on the other hand of things, and additionally what made the situation worse was that you and your brother were cursed with running naturally cold too. so every winter you face the hardships of being already cold in a frigid environment. lucky enough for you, your son of poseidon boyfriend was happy to help you during these times

such as now, in your cabin underneath piles of blankets (you’re pretty sure there’s at least three, but you could debate about a fourth), percy has his arms wrapped tightly around your freezing frame, your head resting underneath his chin. and despite all the warmth radiating onto you your body still felt cold! after complaining to percy about this he had left you and started a fire inside… well, your fireplace (you thanked your father for this, he might have sucked with the whole “always cold” thing but you were lucky his cabin got a fireplace). you nuzzled your face into the pillow as a substitute for your currently absent boyfriend. soon after the fire started he quickly ran over to place a peck to your forehead with a quiet ‘I’ll be right back’ before rushing out of the cabin

he came back five minutes later with a huge bag of marshmallows and ushered for you and your blankets to join him on the rug just in front of the fireplace. and to present time, you agreed and sat down. he hands you a stick with a marshmallow attached to the end before sitting down himself and re-wrapping himself in all of your blankets

“I know how you love burnt marshmallows. I found a bag of them in the kitchen the other day when I was… uh- looking around for cookies but that’s not the point. I knew they would come in handy” percy rambles

you smile at the incredibly generous action and remembrance for your love of marshmallows burnt to the core. “you’re sweet”

“I try my best” percy shrugs, pulling you onto his lap, placing a kiss atop your sweatshirt (his to be exact) clad shoulder, and wrapping his arms back around your waist

when your marshmallow turns a stygian color you remove it from the fire and turn it towards your face, however, before you’re able to blow on it percy beats you to it. you roll your eyes and allow him to do this, then taking a bite out of it— just as delicious as you remember! when you finish up the first you take a second and then a third. after this, though, you place down the stick and at last turn your attention back to your boyfriend who happily smiles at this

“hey, pretty girl”

“perseus” you nod at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders “I like you”

“shit,” he laughs “I was afraid of that. I like you too”

you can’t help mimicking his demeanor. “you’re so stupid” you giggle before, finally, pressing your lips against his

[pearlzier]

⇅﹕🍳.ᐟ﹕⪩ carmen berzatto x fem!reader ⪨﹒%

pairing : carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary : when he doesn't want to use his words, he finds his hands can do the talking for him.

word count : 1,211

tags: the bear, jeremy allen white, fluff, tad suggestive, carmen berzatto, carmy berzatto,

a/n: this is my first time posting any writing on here so uhm tiny bit afraid but i've been in carmy brainrot after binging the bear again and i jus wanted to write something for my manz 😭 likes, reblogs etc appreciate lolz.

carmen didn't miss the way you flinched as the cold metal of his ring pressed against the soft flesh of your tummy, a small, faint smile playing on his lips. he placed his palm flat onto your skin, his large hand cupping it gently whilst he leant on his side against the bed. the mattress dipped a tad from his weight being imposed onto it, however his eyes remained on you all the same.

and vice versa, your eyes meeting with his as you lay back on the bed. it was quiet, the soft sounds of both of your breathing being the only sound occupying the space. in any other circumstance, your silence would be awkward. uncomfortable. however, for the two of you, it's comfortable.

carmen traces his finger down your navel, his index gently prodding the soft skin. his cerulean eyes lift back to yours when he sees the little shift in your weight, and how you grip the bedding a little tighter instinctively. “i've got you,” he says quietly, tone full of warmth, but low with reassurance. his thumb traces over your belly button and he sighs softly, just admiring you.

the man isn't one for words, no, and what he doesn't say, he usually conveys within his touches. he holds you so gently, touches you so lightly. you are precious. he could never dream of hurting you.

it was actually a tiny bit overwhelming for you to have someone who adored you so much. like, how can one person have that much attention? you didn't know how to process it sometimes but by god, did carmen want to prove it to you. with every little swoop of his fingers across your delicate skin, a little flurry of butterflies pranced around in your tummy.

“what're you doin’?” you finally asked, gaze fixed onto the curly haired man nuzzling into your body, his nose pressed into your thigh. you, thought you wouldn't actually get a response from how he was very comfortably lying against you, hands tracing over your body.

“enjoying you,” carmen said very simply, shifting his weight onto his stomach. he noted how warm you were compared to his cold hands, and how you didn't even flinch as he placed his hands over you. “how're you so warm, baby?” he sighed, revelling in the fact you were his own personal heater.

in your case, your boyfriend was a literal ice cube. like freakishly cold. he had plenty of sweaters and stuff, sure, but you were putting better use to them than he was. “why are you so cold, carm?” your indignant voice came, a little muffled by your little yawn, eyes flickering back to your phone. “like, please, wear a fuckin’ hoodie.”

“not when i got you,” carmen retorted as he slid his hands over your thighs, squeezing the flesh gently. you liked how touchy he was, in an intimate way. he was just so enamoured with you and your body, and he wanted to feel it on him at all times. he was a man posessed.

you couldn't deny it was so endearing, this bear of a man latching on like you were a tree in the forest. his large hands grabbing at the meat of your thigh and him nuzzling into it. “like a pillow,” he muttered, planting his head into your thighs. “best fuckin’ pillow, i swear.” his hands latched onto you, squeezing and fondling as best as he could. you were pretty used to his touches, to be totally honest. and he adored giving them.

especially when you threaded your fingers into your hair like you were now, a low grunt slipping past his lips as he lifted his eyes up to yours, looking at you through his lashes. a faint blush dusted his cheeks and you couldn't help but smile, a bashful, boyish smile gracing your boyfriend's lips.

“someone a little shy?” you teased, gently tugging his pretty curls as his plump lips parted, and he gently shook his head with a chuckle.

“says you,” he mumbled quietly, brows quirking upwards. he saw the cheeky expression on your face, you looking pretty self-satisfied, and he decided you needed to be knocked down a peg.

“carm!” you exclaimed softly, a giggle slipping past your lips when you feel a slow bite onto your thigh. he pulls back a little, a little smirk on his lips. “i'm not a chew toy,” carmen would say otherwise, but he decided to let you protest for a little. he traced his tongue over the little mark on your thigh, eyes locked onto yours as he did so. he was like a little puppy, very content in nibbling on you.

he nuzzled his head into your thighs again, biting at the meat of your thigh and leaving various marks, kissing and sucking at the exposed skin he had available whilst you wore your shorts. it was a weird sensation for you, you realised, but a welcome one all the same. the little self-satisfied smirk on his face when he poked his head back up from your legs was pretty worth it though. “how,” he began, propping himself up above you. his weight pressed into you a little, him slotting his thigh between yours so he was comfortable. “are you so soft? what fuckin’ moisturiser are you usin’?”

he was such a dork, you thought. he was your dork, however, and he nuzzled his head into your neck carefully, sighing softly as he slid his hands down your body again. you'd never been taken care of so well by someone in your life, and carmen was more than happy to fulfill that role for you. the man's hands settled onto your hips, tugging you closer to him as he inadvertently pinned you to the bed. “you moisturise, honey?” he teased, pressing kisses down your collarbone as he smiled, fingertips ghosting your sides, causing you to burst out laughing. “what'd you use? wanna tell your secrets, angel?”

you couldn't help the cackles that slipped past your lips as he tickled you. “carm, get off!” he definitely refused, continuing to tickle you mercilessly. he giggled, smiling up at you.

“i wanna know!” carmen insisted, rolling his eyes. he smiled at how defenseless you were, before a grunt slipped past his lips and his eyes widened the moment he felt your weight suddenly come onto him, and he was the one pressed against the bed. “oh,” he breathed out, eyes meeting yours.

“ha!” the smirk on your lips had him grinning from ear to ear, and he resisted the urge to continue tickling you, like he really could've. but you were so happy with your victory that he really couldn't have taken it away from you.

so he simply leant back, folding his arms behind his head so he could look up at you, content with the feeling of you ontop of him. and you liked it too, having managed to pin him down like he'd done previously. a little smile played on your lips, and you barely resisted the urge to bury your head into his chest to hide yourself. but when you were about to cave, shifting your weight, he spoke:

“so, what do you use to moisturise?” the little shit.

[deathliestc]

Shower Me With Your Kisses

summary: You're going out to hang with Nella and Adeola but before going out, Sharky wants cheek kisses.

warning: none

Sharky x f!reader

𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ —<3— ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩—<3—✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩—<3—✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

On this delightful day, bathed in sunshine, you, Nella, and Adeola decided to go shopping.

You were at your house, in your room, waiting for Nella since she offered to pick you up along with Adeola. You were facing the mirror, putting on your light pink lipstick as the last touch, and smiled at yourself with confidence.

(Sound of phone ringing)

Your phone rang, and you immediately answered it. “Get your ass out, I’m outside.” Nella’s direct voice came through. With a chuckle escaping your lips, you grabbed your belongings and were ready to go out.

Stepping out of your room, you found your boyfriend Sharky, lounging on the couch, petting your cat with an air of boredom. You approach him with your hands on your hips. “Nella’s outside already, you will be okay on your own right?” You ask him,

Sharky shifted his gaze to you, his mouth fell open at the sight of you. He was utterly speechless at your jaw-dropping beauty until he forgot to respond to your question. You snap your finger and bring him back to reality, “Babe!”

“Oh what— What were you saying again?” He stuttered, his eyes scanning you up and down, still admiring you. In response, you crossed your arms and let out a sigh.

From his laidback position, Sharky sits up and holds your hands. “Sorry baby, you’re just so beautiful…” he persuades, kissing your hand.

A warm smile graced your face. “Alright, it’s okay,” you said, forgiving him. “Nella is outside already, I’m going out right now okay?” You stated,

With a playful tone, he teased, “No kiss?” while tapping his right cheek with one finger, silently requesting a sweet gesture. You chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes with a smirk on your face. Leaning in, you gave him a small peck on his right cheek, receiving a chuckle of satisfaction from him. “Alright, I’m going now.” You were just about to walk away but are immediately stopped by Sharky grasping your wrist. “One more kiss pleaaasee,” he begged,

You once again playfully roll your eyes and give him a small peck on his left cheek. “Nella is going to get mad at me,” You said, chuckling.

“More moree,” He begged once more,

Biting your lower lip, you hesitated for a moment. However, Sharky’s sad face and clingy demeanor melted your resistance and you gave in, planting two kisses on both of his cheeks in the hope that would be enough.

But no, it was never enough for him. “Y/n more, please.” With annoyance, you decided to indulge him further, planting kisses all over his face. His heartwarming laugh that he lets out whilst you’re kissing him melts you like a cube of ice. As a finishing touch, you kiss him on the lips.

Pulling apart, you sprinted towards the door, “No more!” you yelled before he could protest. In a rush, you hastily put on your heels and burst out of the house, shouting, “Bye babe!” before leaving.

Sharky laughed at your playful behavior, he grabbed a pillow and hid his face. Blushing and chuckling to himself, he couldn’t help but think about how adorable you were.

—

𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ —<3— ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩—<3—✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩—<3—✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

HEYYY WADDUPPP HOW IS ITTT??? So hey anyways I decided to write Sharky ff today, I was supposed to write for Kenniko but honestly if I didn’t write for the others it would make my masterlist looks empty so I was like “okayy, sharky ff then” 😶‍🌫️ SO ANYWAYS YEAHH UHM THATS ALL?? BYE BYE DONT FORGET TO REQUEST MORE MWAH BYEE!

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Interloper [Part 4]

Beetlejuice x Reader

Summary: Beetlejuice decides to handle things with the boy who sent you home crying.

CW: use of bugs, guy being a complete creep, sex fantasies,

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 <-

~~~

You were asleep on the couch. Beetlejuice had covered you in your favorite blanket and put a pillow under your head. Admiring how peaceful you looked. Unable to believe some skeezebag would ever disrespect you.

“I’ll make sure that boy never hurts you again, babes,” he whispered as he petted your hair. Softly planting a kiss on top of your head.

He could not believe you had made him this soft. He was never one for domestic life. Never one to fully dedicate himself to one woman. He had never felt the kind of things you made him feel. And when you came home crying, that awoke something inside him. Never before had he felt his chest tug and stomach sink.

Normally, he would not leave your house. Keeping inside made your deal sealed. But this was different. He had to do something.

The boy was still out in these wee hours of the morning. No telling how many drinks deep as he hit on every girl in the bar. Inappropriate hands cupped and groped at every passing chick.

Beetlejuice took a seat beside him at the bar. Your ex-friend eyeballed him. Staring up and down at the pale man in the striped suit. Laughing when he saw his greenish blonde hair. “Isn’t it a little late for Halloween, bub?”

Beetlejuice swirled his glass. Ice cube clinking against the sides. Eyes shooting like daggers into the man beside him. Not even giving him a pity smile. Normally, he was the kind to joke around and have fun. But when it came to you, this was serious.

Watching as the boy swirled around in his chair to cat-call another new girl in the bar. Disgust written on her face. Annoying Beetlejuice further.

“So, you thinking of taking any of these chicks home?” Beetlejuice sipped at his drink.

“Nah. None of these chicks are good enough for me. To tell you the truth, I got blown off by this banging chick earlier. Fucking A-grade. Just trying to prove to myself that I still got game since fucking sluts like her can’t handle a guy like me,” he hiccuped.

Beetlejuice’s stomach did a flip. Fury igniting inside his body. Slut? His girl? Who did this asshole think he is? Hard fingers gripped his glass. Shattering it with his frustration.

“Woah, dude,” the boy’s eyes widened.

Shards of glass fell across the bar and onto the floor. His fist shook with anger. He had to calm himself down. Smoothing his hair down as he took a deep breath.

“You’re the type of guy to harass women until they give you what you want, eh? Even going as far as to send a girl you’ve known for years home crying,” Beetlejuice gritted his teeth.

The boy was perplexed. Sipping his drink as the man next to him rattled on. Suddenly feeling something swirl around in his mouth. Pressing his fingers between his lips and pulling the long object from his mouth. A centipede, alive and wiggling. Feet kicking and antennas rotating. He gagged. Spitting his drink across the bar. “WHAT THE FU—“

Beetlejuice snickered. Shutting him up with a zipper over his mouth. Feeling several eight legged sensations under his shirt and down his pants. Giant, black and white striped tarantulas roamed his body. Feeling the cold metal of his stool wrap around him, holding him in place while the creepy crawlies explored his skin. He wiggled and fought against the hold. Muffled screams came through the zipper. Eyes bulging out of his head as if they would explode. And Beej could always make them.

Beetlejuice threaded his fingers through the boy’s hair, pulling his head to make eye contact with him. “Next time you want to send a babe like Y/N home crying because you won’t stop yourself, remember this face. I won’t go easy on you. I’ll make you suffer in this life and the next,” his snake like tongue hissed.

Tears welled up in his eyes. Nodding over and over at Beetlejuice. Body shaking with fear. Begging him to release him.

Beetlejuice slapped him on the back of the head with a fake smile. Beginning to walk off before turning on his heel, snapping to spin the stool around to face him. “One more thing,” Beetlejuice’s face pried open revealing one of the most grotesque and horrifying faces you could imagine. Snarling and hissing at the boy who cried out in fear in front of him.

Laughing to himself as he exited the bar. Deciding to leave the boy detained. A problem he could deal with on his own.

Teach him to mess with his girl.

…

You woke up when the sunlight beamed in through your blinds. Squinting awake. Noticing that you had been tucked in, confused on who could have done such a sweet gesture.

No, he wouldn’t.

You pulled the blanket off you, still in your dress from the night before. Tears ridden with mascara stained the top of it. No sign of Beetlejuice anywhere. Deciding to go and wash away the night of mistakes.

Steaming hot water trickled along your skin. Hands caressed your skin, taking the soft loofah along them. Sighing as you dipped your head under the water. Mind running rampant with thoughts of Beetlejuice. Imagining how his cold hands would feel roaming your body now. Strong contrast to the hot water. The way your body would meet perfectly to the curve of his. Imagining his deep, raspy voice whispering things in your ear as his lips trailed your neck. The feeling of his cock curved against your ass.

What was going on with you?

~

[END//Part 4]

// Thank you so much for reading! I am very excited for the next spicy chapter. //

{tags}

@the--blackdahlia ~ @summonthewinchesters ~ @jewqueer ~ @vanessaedp ~ @catfoundfics ~ @llois-lane ~ @teo-tem ~ @s-lock-doctordonna ~ @jessicafangirl ~

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part four

art by the amazing @piaart!!

author’s note: HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY @angellayercake!! GO TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

so sorry for the delay on this haha. i've been wrestling with this for a while but i'm pretty happy with it now! it is about 4.4k words. part one/two/three. ao3 linky.

Terzo’s house is different at night. The lights are dim and the shadows are long, every long, creaking corridor seemingly ending in a black void. You’ve never been here this late. In fact, you can’t remember what you were just doing… why are you working late? The hardwood floor rasps beneath your shoes as you turn a corner and see him inside the room at the end of the hallway, sprawled out across a plush purple couch. Terzo immediately perks up at the sight of you, propping himself on his elbows, the usual lop-sided grin sitting handsomely on his face. You feel like you float to him and you’re suddenly standing next to the couch, hovering over him. One of his hands crawls up your waist and then loops his arm around you to pull you down on top of him. It’s much more forward than the careful dance the two of you have been doing since the couch incident. You struggle to breathe in his lap, his hands firmly planted on your waist as he leans up to level his eyes with yours.

“This is what you want, si?” He purrs, his hands snaking up your back to hold you close to him, his face an inch away from you. His paint is sharp, more sharp than usual, and he feels hot to the touch, his fingers nearly burning through your shirt. Your heart flutters and you gasp, your mouth dropping open as his stuttered breath hits your lips. “You like me. You want me. You’ve wanted me from the start, haven’t you, puffetta?” You’ve heard him growl before but not like this, not in a low hum that sends a shiver down your spine. Words fail you but you manage to nod. And nod. And nod again before his large hand grabs the back of your head, his fingers knotting in your hair. You nearly moan in anticipation, wanting and needing this so badly, his lips just about to touch yours — so close to finally tasting him.

Instead, you wake up in a cold sweat, your fingers dug into the sheets and drool on your pillow. Your panting and your cheeks are flushed but you slowly start to cool off once you rip the comforter off of you, throwing it to the ground in frustration. Mostly frustration at yourself for continuing to watch videos of your boss performing. You can’t help it. Terzo let you in. He invited you to sit beside him and take a peak into his world. The memorabilia makes sense now, the posters, the photographs, the everything.

And you want to know more.

“Ah, it is really… coming along, eh?” Terzo sounds so sleepy, brushing the hair out of his eyes and gazing out of the kitchen window while his hip rests against the counter. You take a moment to look up from your laptop and out the window as well, silently taking in the improvements that have been made under your care. The grass is a lush green, a hammock underneath the only tree in the yard, now trimmed and shaped to actually resemble one. A patio with a stylish dark grey conversation set beneath a hardtop gazebo is just to the left of the window, nestled in a corner of the yard. The garden still needs some work but there are two small raised beds in the back corner, where the sun shines the most, and a few spots already reserved for jalapeno peppers at Terzo’s insistence. You turn back to look at him, unable to fight off the blush that rises to your cheeks.

“Do you like it?” There’s a lilt in your voice, lips pulling into a small smile. It makes him melt a little bit.

“Si, yes. It is much nicer than it was before…” He trails off as he slinks closer to you only to keep his gaze settled on the yard. “We must have spritz’s outside one of these nights.”

“Spritz?”

“Ehhh, it’s like rosso arancio — orangey **drink with ice cubes and, uhhhh, ah! Served in a wine glass.” His mannerisms make you smile even more. You feel like a fool and you’re sure you look like one but you can’t help it. Your dream intensified your feelings, making it nearly impossible to hide them at this point. Is it so bad? To have a crush on your weird, retired-rockstar boss?

“Oh, like in White Lotus?” You rest your chin on your hands and flutter your eyes at him. Terzo flashes a bright smile but you can see in his eyes that he has no idea what you’re talking about. Silence lingers with him hovering just above you, your eyes locked. The moment is interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. “Oh shit, the landscaper!” You grab your phone and hurry out of the kitchen and toward the backyard.

Terzo keeps his eyes on the yard, slipping his hands in his robe pockets as he waits for you to appear. You caught him off guard this morning, your dreamlike gaze and easy smile making it impossible for him to be anything other than endeared to you. He’s almost relieved for the interruption because of how close he was to breaking the tension, wanting nothing more than to shove his fingers down your throat and watch those bright eyes widen with shock. You come into view with the landscaper trailing behind you, looking over your shoulder with a smile as you use your hand to sweep across the landscape with your finger ending up pointing to some brush that needs to be cleared. Terzo has spent so much time just watching you operate and he hasn’t tired of it, which is a feat due to his relatively short attention span. In fact, he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it.

You’re a natural with people. You always have a cheery smile, a nice greeting and some banter to lighten things up. He’s been so shut-in, his only company either you or his own voice, that watching genuine human interaction makes him swoon hard for you. His mind drifts to the times when he used to be social and how it used to fuel him, how it used to keep him going even after his Papacy fell apart.

What fuels him now? His gaze falls to where you had been sitting and his attention is immediately captured. You left you laptop open.

Terzo has always been nosy, even during his days at the Abbey. He can’t help but allow his eyes to focus on your email inbox that you foolishly left open. How many secrets could be in your inbox? What could he find out about you through what’s there? Terzo resists. He truly does for a split second. But he just cannot help himself. He slinks into the wooden kitchen chair you are set up at and pulls his glasses out from his robe pocket. He clicks on the first thing he sees: Banana Republic and is disappointed that it is only clothes. One of the male models catches his attention, though.

His outfit, specifically. A henley and a cardigan, matched tastefully with a pair of sweatpants. Terzo wonders if this is the kind of style you like. He pulls out his phone and opens the Banana Republic website but freezes when he hears faint footsteps. Terzo scrambles out of your chair, only to settle close by, leaning against a nearby wall and pretending to be hopelessly distracted by his phone (aka, staring at cardigans).

You enter the kitchen and can’t help by eye him suspiciously, the look on his face perhaps just a bit too aloof. He keeps scrolling lazily and starts to lean backward, all too aware of your gaze. It lingers for a moment before you sit back down, knitting your brows together at the email open on your screen. Then, you see that it’s up to 50% off all items which could be combined with clearance items and you’re clicking the link, getting lost in the undeniable pull of online shopping. Terzo gives a dramatic huff and leaves the room, desperately trying to hide how tickled he is.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, unable to hide a grimace. This is silly. Today is date day. You ended up texting Dylan. How could you not? Something you’ve longed for since you were a girl was offered up to you on a silver platter. So — why aren’t you more excited? Instead, Terzo is on the mind. It feels like he’s consumed your whole life as of late, spending your days in his home working for him and now he’s seeped into your home time. You haven’t allowed yourself to fully go down the rabbit hole, sticking only with the videos he had shown you in his home despite your YouTube recommendations now being full of him but also… other videos of different singers and musicians under the same band name. Of course, you couldn’t ask despite your curiosity — it’s obviously something of a sore subject and he’s only just started opening up to you more about that time of his life. The last thing you want to do is press him on something so personal and painful to him.

But now you have to live with this knowledge.

You try to push the thought from the forefront of you mind, instead focusing on yourself in the mirror again. A black shift dress hugs your figure and you have your red scarf, your favorite scarf, loose around your neck. How are you supposed to dress for this occasion? A date after work? It’s impossible to put together an appropriate outfit for both. But also — who are you kidding? The idea of Terzo seeing you in a dress has you anxious in more ways than one. No one needs an excuse to wear a dress but for some reason you feel guilty. Guilty that this dress isn’t for him. Maybe… a little bit disappointed, too. But you should give Dylan a shot, right?

“Right?” Oh, you are anxious.

Something catches your eye in your mirror, your gaze slowly trailing toward it. Your red scarf. You hum in thought for a moment and then turn to snatch it off your dresser, quickly looping it around your neck. Immediate relief washes over you, something about the scarf soothing your nerves. Could be because it makes you think of the way warm knuckles brushed along your cool neck. A shiver runs down your spine and your cheeks flush from the thought. Fuck. You have to pull yourself together. Time to focus on work, on getting shit done to distract yourself from… well everything.

Meanwhile, Terzo is having a similar time looking at himself in disbelief. It’s the most put together he’s tried to be since his days as Papa. He sits on the edge of his bed, one hand on each knee, his toes tapping on the ground in front of him. The amount of thought that has gone into this outfit is silly, even though he basically bought exactly what the model was wearing. Now his thoughts have turned to how should he be sitting when you arrive? See? It’s silly*.* He almost ashamed of how **you’ve wormed your way into his cold, broken heart **when **that was not his plan. You’re supposed to be obsessed with him, waiting on him hand and foot while kissing the ground he walks on. Instead he’s fallen for you. How embarrassing. But how could it have been avoided?

Terzo rests his palms on either side of his bed as he leans back and spreads his legs, sharp eyes examining his position for a beat. Too forward? An amused grin flickers across his face at the thought of you reacting to him like this. Definitely too forward. He tilts his head and adjusts himself with care, back straightening out and he crosses his legs. Closer but not quite. Terzo stares at his own reflection, admiring his paint for the day. Every time he sees himself he wonders why he still applies it everyday. Perhaps it’s a comfort thing, makes him feel like he’s important again. Like he’s Papa.

He wonders if he’ll ever hear you call him that.

Terzo takes a deep breath and exhales with a rumble, his eyes falling shut. You would do anything he asked, wouldn’t you? His mouth splits into a grin as he runs his slender fingers through his hair. Eyes open slowly, gaze focusing on his reflection. Strands of hair had fallen into his face and his head overall looking stylishly unkempt. More giggles.

Perfect.

Some mornings it’s like you blink and you’re at Terzo’s home. Not this morning. You are hyper aware of every stoplight, every Dunkin Donuts as your commute drags out to the second. Too much alone time with your overactive brain plotting out kind of every situation where something could go wrong with the date or work today and coming up with attack plan after attack plan to fix the issue. Not fun. After what feels like an eternity, you pull through the eerie wrought iron gate and travel down the long, tree lined driveway. Tension fills your chest as you come to a slow stop. It’s just one weird day that you have to get through.

You got this.

Terzo is already in the foyer by the time you walk through the door which is unlike him, usually spending most mornings in bed or somewhere else dark and comfy until he can no longer tolerate his caffeine withdrawal headache. He’s balancing his coffee cup on his thigh, one hand resting behind his head while the other scrolls through his phone. Your feet come to a stop, blinking a few times to ensure what you’re seeing is real, having never seen him this clothed before*.* He’s still in sweatpants but they taper down to his ankles and he’s wearing a pair of moccasins, his hair expertly tousled and reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a white henley that is artfully unbuttoned to expose his thick chest hair and a cozy navy blue cardigan draped over his slinky shoulders. Only his eyes are painted — giving you the chance to finally see his bare face, smooth olive skin wrinkled with age. You stare at him silently. He looks like he’s come directly out of a magazine. Terzo head tilts to face you, his eyes still focused on his phone until they unhurriedly drag away from the screen to settle on you.

“Ammazza…” The word is an impassioned whisper. He’s stunned, eyes wide as he looks over your figure with such a deliberate slowness it makes your cheeks burn. Dark eyes settle on your scarf, a smirk tugging on his lips, then his gaze flickers to meet yours. He rises from his seat, one hand clumsily snatching his coffee from his lap to stop himself from spilling, trying to hide his clumsiness with a cough. “Buongiorno mio toppolino… eh, you are wearing a dress?”

“I am. You’re wearing a cardigan.”

“I am.” Terzo purrs and slinks closer to you as he slips his phone into his cardigan pocket. His clumsiness is now replaced by that irresistible lazy swagger you are so familiar with. He lets his eyes wander again, tilting his head while regarding you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest but it’s impossible to hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks. “I do not think I can let you start work without a dance, not when you are wearing such a beautiful dress, puffetta.” There’s an undeniable heat in his words. It’s too early for this.

“It’s too early for this, Terzo.” You huff as you avert his eyes, a desperate attempt to not fall under his spell.

“Come now… I don’t want to pull the “boss” card but, eh…?” He sets his coffee down on the table as his other arm brazenly snakes around your waist. Your face is fully red now and your brain is in a deep state of fart but you manage to move with him. This is the exact opposite of what you wanted for today but you find your stress slipping away to focus on the warmth of his fingers from having held his mug of coffee. He guides your hand to his chest then slips his bare hand along your other arm until he laces his fingers in yours and raises them to lead the way. Terzo is taller than you, not by much but he still looms over you, those piercing eyes never leaving yours. He starts to slowly sway to imaginary music as your cheeks burn, your chest impossibly warm but you start to loosen up, especially as his movements grow more fluid. “There is always time for a little dance, eh?” Terzo leans in close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your lips then rests his cheek against your temple with a hum.

And you thought cuddling on the couch was intimate. You feel every inhale and exhale, his humming gradually growing stronger in your ear. His cool lips and warm breath giving you goosebumps. Cirice. You recognize it from your be various videos you’ve watched but bite your tongue and enjoy him. This may not be a stage in front of thousands of people but it definitely feels like a demonstration of some kind. Or he could just be pushing the boundary like the creeper he is and you’re eating. it. up. The last time you slow danced was at your senior prom with your date who was on probation — unbeknownst to you at the time he asked you. Somehow this is far less awkward than that. His arm around your waist starts to shift upward, his large hand pressing up your back. He lifts his head but is still only a breath away, his smile lines deep as his gaze meets yours. Your heart stirs in your chest, air caught in your lungs but before you get swept up in the moment he changes the tone.

Terzo starts singing, more energetic and loud as he leads you from the foyer into the den. You nearly trip over yourself when he twirls you, picking up the pace to be more jaunty, more goofy. But even with the fun movements you are extremely aware of his hand on the small of your back, fingertips pressing against you every so often. He’s smiling so wide that it makes it hard for you to hold it together. All of your worries about the day are gone, though — replaced by being completely entranced by him. You know just how special this song is to him, the moments he had on stage with fans, holding their hands and kissing their knuckles. And now he has you in his arms.

“I am going to dip you now.”

“You’re going to wha--?!” You squeal as he dips you, your hand frantically gripping onto his shoulder. He doesn’t drop you though, instead pulling you back to your feet with his toned arms curling around your back. You stop breathing, your chests touching and a strand of his hair brushing against your forehead from how close the two of you are.

“Mm… you are a good dance partner, you know? Easy to lead.” Is he trying to kill you today? Terzo gives you some space but still sways with you, the dance feeling more like… more like standing very close to one another waiting for something to happen. “You spoiled me today with wearing this dress.”

And a punch to your gut. Extreme guilt builds inside you and you can’t stop the distress from being all over your face.

“Oh…oh, puffetta, I am sorry, am I making you uncomfortable or—?” You cut him off with a sigh and take a step away from him, your eyes closing to give yourself time to collect your feelings while his arms fall from around you.

“No, I’m sorry. Ugh, this is so weird. I’m… I have a date after work today. So that’s what the dress is for.” There is no air in your lungs. Everything is so strained. “But you… this…” A flutter in your chest. “I like it. I’m… sorry this dress isn’t for you.” Do you even need to be apologizing? The answer would be no if it was anyone else other than him.

His face is stone cold, so different than the joy that had radiated from him just moments ago. The smile is gone and his brows are furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. You think you’re going to, ummm, die? All you can do is stare back at him, eyes incredibly wide and worry etched across your face. What is he thinking? Why is he taking so long?

One of Terzo’s hands lunges forward and grabs you by the back of your neck, his thumb pressed hard right below your ear. A surprised yelp, grasping for his sleeve and his shirt as his grip on you only tightens. His lips crush against your mouth, tongue forcing it’s way inside. He tastes like spiced coffee. The kiss is ferocious, you feel like you’re disappearing into it, mind blank but fingers digging into the fabric of his cardigan. Terzo’s teeth graze your bottom lip as he pulls away, a fiery look in his eyes.

“Do not forget who you belong too.” A low, vicious growl with bared teeth, pointed fangs glistening in the morning light. He uses his strength to push you down to your knees by your neck, your legs now trembling beneath. Speechless, you can’t look away from him now. Silence stretches between you. And then… he leaves and doesn’t spare you another glance.

You think you are broken. There’s an ache, a primal ache between your legs that burns hotter than you’ve ever felt before. Your skin is on fire, your cheeks burning and numb. What the fuck? He kissed you. Your boss kissed you and then spoke to you as if you are his possession. And it makes you want him more than ever before.

How are you going to be able to think about anything else?

Lucky for you, Terzo is MIA for the rest of the day.

You work as if he is standing over you, watching your every move. You don’t want to disappoint him, not now. Not after he kissed you. But the date. Dylan. Oh, Dylan. Caught in the middle of something there is no way he will ever understand. You hover in your text chat with him a few times with intent to cancel on him… but you can’t. He’s the one who got away, the one who you pined for like an idiot throughout half your life. This date could close that book. Or it could be the prologue. You won’t know unless you follow through.

The end of the day rolls around and you can’t help but pause in the foyer on your way out. Your chest tightens. Such a pleasant start to the day only to spiral out of control. You’re almost happy he kissed you before you were able to tell him that your date was picking you up from his house. The front porch creaks beneath your feet, the rotting wood the focus of your work today. Dylan is already there, leaning against his car and he gives you a big wave. You smile and wave back, light on your feet as you head toward him.

“Ma che cazzo…?” Terzo stares in disbelief, watching from his bedroom window as your date opens the passenger side door for you. Rage boils up within him, his hands clutching at the hem of his cardigan. A ceiling light POPS! behind him, green electricity illuminates the room but only for a second. Flames light up the bottom of the curtains, slowly eating away at them until they are completely engulfed. He’s too angry to care. The shy smile you gave your date eats him up inside, churning his stomach and making his nerves spark. The car fades from view and he unleashes an anguished scream as his hands seemingly grow claws, tearing and ripping the cardigan he had so carefully styled that morning. He doesn’t stop until he’s shirtless and surrounded by shreds of fabric. A sloppy wave of his hand somehow extinguishes the flames, leaving him in his room in the dark.

The nerve of you. To flirt, to giggle, to flutter your beautiful, delicate eyelashes at him while entertaining the idea of another man in your mind. A whore for attention, aren’t you? Pain in his chest. He shouldn’t call you a whore. You don’t deserve that. But it hurts, puffetta. Is it because he slacked off? Or that he had gone soft on you? Terzo groans as he sits on his bed, lasting less than a second before he flops onto the mattress and sinks into the mess of covers. He has been too soft, fucking twirling you around the foyer like a lovesick puppy. A romantic at heart always, eh? It was worth it — seeing you smile and blush gives him life, a reason to wake up the next morning because he has nothing else to do. You’ve made this shithole the Ministry saddled him with into a place that actually makes him feel at home. So… maybe he could be somewhat lenient with your punishment.

Electricity crackles in his bones. He is going to spend the rest of the night here, he thinks, casting a glance at his ancient alarm clock. 5:30pm. What else could possibly get him out of bed at this point? Terzo huffs and swings one of his legs over his body to lazily roll over, dragging the covers along with him to successfully burrito himself with a scoff. Another instance in which someone stole the spotlight from him. At least this time it isn’t his decrepit father. He breaks into a wild chuckle.

That would be fucked.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Godemiché (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: Do you know it’s him that’s fucking you?

Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader

Rating: 🌶️ Explicit 🌶️

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: Dubcon elements, improper use of Devil Fruit powers.

A/N: i do not know what possessed me to write this.

———

It started as a joke. You, a sprightly young thing with twinkling eyes and a dirty sense of humor, unused to the close quarters that came with crewing on a ship. Him, a dirty old bastard with a detachable cock. He presented it to you in a soft cloth bag, grinning mischievously.

“Use it in the dark,” he said with a wink.

He didn't think you would. He thought he'd hear a scream in the middle of the night followed by you slapping him with it the next morning. He may have grown older, but he never really grew up.

But no.

What he feels that night, just as he's drifting off to sleep, is a delicate hand around his shaft. He jerks upright, head whipping around to catch the intruder and hand going to his crotch.

But there's nothing there, neither tackle nor intruder. He panics a moment, only to remember what he’d done and where it is.

It’s currently in your possession. And you’re using it.

The gentle prickle of hair tickles his shaft. You must be sliding it between your pussy lips. How’d you know he was weak for that? For a woman in her natural, unkempt state?

And then it grows warm and smooth and wet. He’s inside you. He feels your muscles shift as you take all of him, easing him in and out, getting him good and lubricated.

He almost chokes.

You’re already quite wet, and it slips and slides in and out with ease. Hot cunt, cool air. He grinds into the air, gasping with each distant thrust.

You grow slicker with each pump. Finally, you take him to the hilt, his entire cock sheathed inside your warmth. You clench him tight.

The air isn't enough. He groans and flips onto his belly. Grabbing a pillow, he mounts it like a dog in heat.

He squeezes his eyes shut. If he pretends, if he thinks real hard, it can be you. He is fucking you, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been dreaming of this since you climbed aboard — hell, even before that, when he first saw you milling about the docks.

Do you know? he wonders as his hips grind. Do you know it's him that’s fucking you?

Your walls flutter, pulling him deeper. You’re coming. And coming. And coming. Must have been a long one. He wishes he could see you fold and buck and your eyes screw shut and your breath hitch and—

He tries not to come. He tries so, so hard. But he fails.

Burying his face in the mattress, he whines your name, high and sweet as a cotton candy cloud. He grinds his hips into the pillow, praying that he’s dreaming and that he’ll open his eyes to see you underneath him.

But alas.

He empties fast and plummets back to Earth. Falling to the side, he reflects on what a pathetic, dirty old man he is.

He can't look you in the eye the next morning. Avoids you at breakfast. Dodges you all afternoon. But you corner him in the evening. Quite literally. He's in the aft hold when you get between him and the door.

Your hands darts out. In a few quick movements, you've undone his trousers and jerked them open. He's too stunned to even cover himself.

Pulling his waistband away from his body, you withdraw something from your pocket and drop it inside. He expects an ice cube. Or a firecracker. He braces himself for pain...

... But it doesn't come. Instead, his equipment returns to its rightful spot, a red silk ribbon tied in a bow adorning his shaft.

“You can have it back, but I’m gonna need that again soon,” you say. You give him a saucy wink and slip out the door.

Well. Seems like you did know.

———

To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar

[zerobaseonefics]

ZB1 : falling asleep on them ㅡ hyung line version

ZB1!hyung line x gn!reader

genre : fluff

warnings : maybe some suggestives sentences for hao's part??? one bed trope for hao's. mention of quitting school to become a stripper in hanbin's... yeah that's pretty much it

note : I'VE NEVER WROTE FOR JIWOONG BEFORE CAN YOU BELIEVE IT????? i'm anxious i hope i did it right 🫡 if you guys liked the hyung line version i might do it for the rest of the members... peace 👅‼️

• Jiwoong

"and... cut! good job guys, we're all getting a break. come back in 15 minutes!"

after the announcement of the producer, it seems like everyone on the set started breathing again. it was your debut movie. you used to act before, mostly in web dramas, but this was your first role ever in such a big project and the movie was already very anticipated by the public. your co-star, jiwoong, was used to those long days of just filming, but you were absolutly not. you, and the whole production crew as well, was now filming for 12 hours, and acting for so long was actually more tiring than it seems to be.

the scene you were filming before the break was outdoors, at night, in a park that the production crew privatized so no one could disturb the filming. the night temperature started to bite the tip of your fingers and made you shiver. you were sitting alone on a bench when jiwoong came to you with a smile. he went to take your coat from the staff, and also thought of taking a blanket for you. without a word, he helped you wearing your coat before wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. you smiled back to him.

you guys were working together on this movie for months now, and you were confortable enough to let your head rest on his shoulder when he sat next to you.

"thank you for the blanket" you mumbled.

"you looked like you were about to turn into an ice cube'' he joked. he couldn't help but keep a smile on his face when you softly laughed to his remark, a sweet melody to his ears. little by little, a calming silence fell over the two of you. jiwoong lips were still curved upwards to the feeling of you curled up to him, and he couldn't help but look to your face after a few minutes. your eyes were closed and your breathing was calmer than it was previously. when he realized you fell asleep on him, a pinkish color appeared on his cheeks, and no one could tell if it was because of you or because of the cold.

gently, his hand went to take yours as he tried not to wake you up.

this moment, caught on camera by the staff who was filming the behind the scene, quickly made you and jiwoong the talk of town and brought more hype to the upcoming movie...

• Zhang hao

"well, i'm gonna have to warn you, i naturally cuddle things when i sleep. if it ever happens, don't think i have a crush on you or anything. okay? it's my nature, it's just how i work, so please-"

"oh my god, hao could you please just shut up!"

you shoved your face under your pillow to let him know he was pissing you off. hao sighed.

"i'm simply warning you..."

"okay and i'm also warning you, if you ever cuddle me i'll probably strangle you. that's my nature, it's just how i work." you said, using his own words.

"that's some weird and agressive way of working but okay..."

for as long as you could remember, hao and you were rivals. don't ask me in what field you guys are competing, because at this point, y'all are turning everything into a competition. and this is literally how you ended up that night, in the same bed.

you both took music as your major in college, and a school trip was organized for the best students. when you arrived to the hotel, the teachers simply gave you the keys to the room that were reserved for you, and let you choose the ones you wanted. they warned you that there was one that have to be shared, but zhang hao and you were not listening at this point. why? you wanted the third room, but he wanted it as well. it started a fight between you two, while the rest of your classmates simply chose the room they wanted. that's how you ended up having to share a room with him. with one bed.

now, you were both lying down on the back, looking at the ceiling. an awkward silence settled in the room, as you were too tensed to sleep properly. zhang hao, on the other half, didn't care. he decided to lay comfortably to sleep.

"are you not going to sleep?" he asked.

"i don't trust you enough to close my eyes."

"don't worry about it, i'm not doing anything without your consent."

"..."

"n-not that i'm willing to do anything with you even if you wanted to! i don't have a crush on you or anything..."

"you probably said you don't have a crush on me five times this evening, that's suspicious.."

"shut up."

surpringly, you listened to him and didn't fight back. the silence came back again, and zhang hao's were closed as he started to doze off. surprisingly, you called his name, and he could sense that you hesitated before doing so. he simply hummed, letting you know he was listening to you.

"don't you think the room is cold?" you said in a small voice he was not used to hear.

"do you?" he asked back, thinking the temperature of the room was good enough.

"yeah..."

he looked at you, inspecting your face despite the darkness in the room. you didn't seem to be lying. hao frowned his eyebrows.

"are you really cold?"

"why would i lie about being cold?? look" you put your hand on his neck, making him jump back.

"take your icy hands off me??" he said, offended.

"see?? i'm cold!"

an idea crossed zhang hao's mind. he coughed to clear his voice, not looking at you.

"well, people usually say my body is warm..."

"and...?"

"if you're really cold, i can let you use my body... okay, no, this sounds really weird, what i wanted to say was-"

"i get it! don't freak out like this."

once again, zhang hao sighed. but this time, you did it with him. with hesitation, you went closer to him. your arm held his waist as he was laying on his back, and you rested your head on his chest. he didn't even realize that he stopped breathing when your body became so close to his own. zhang hao doesn't have a crush on you. but there was no other way he could explain the feeling he felt in his chest when you snuggled up to him after you fell asleep on his chest.

• Hanbin

"maybe i should quit school and become a stripper..."

"i wouldn't shame you for that to be honest."

your best friend, hanbin, put down your order on the table. you immediatly took a sip from the drink, a sigh of relief leaving your lips.

"if it wasn't for your coffee, i think i would've die studying."

"i'm glad if it helps."

hanbin looked around. today, his mother's cafe was emptier than usual. you were the only customer here, actually. he took the occasion and sat next to you.

"maybe you should take a break now? you've been working on this for hours now. drink this at least, and go back to studying after."

"you're right. plus, it sucks that you're here but i don't get to hang out with you."

hanbin shyly smiled at the last sentence. you were totally oblivious to the heart eyes your friend was sending to you, focused on drinking your coffee. stray strands of hair were falling before your eyes and hanbin couldn't help but find you cute.

"should i tie your hair for you?"

"i wish, but i didn't take hair ties with me..."

hanbin simply showed you his wrist, with a hair tie around. he always carry one with him in case you needed it. "you're amazing", you said as you turned back to let him tie your hair. gently, he made sure to tie every strands that were disturbing you, and made sure he could see your pretty face properly.

"all done" he grinned. you locked your arm with him, snuggling closer to him and letting your head on his shoulder.

"thank you. for everything."

"i know you would have done the same for me", hanbin mumbled, a bit shy despite being used to this kind of the skinship. with his free hand, he took yours to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it. "is it okay if we stay like this for a bit? since there is no customers..."

"hm, don't worry. i'm focused on you anyways."

you whispered another 'thank you' to your friend, not aware of the racing heart you caused inside his chest. the sight of you slowly falling asleep on you was so endearing, that when a new customer finally came in, he simply apologized to them and said they were closed.