#saw it and couldn’t stop until I finished this

[hanibalistic]

HIT DOG HOLLER, HIT DOG'S COLLAR | JAKE SIM.

genre | fluff, angst / hurt comfort au

synopsis | when a dog was surrendered to the shelter you worked it, you had no other choice but to call your ex-boyfriend for help.  

word count | 4.2k+

warning | mention of abandoned pets, pet urine / dog is referred to as 'it' in narration / mention of insecurities

note | i kept telling myself i am allowed to finish this even though i can't find any point in the story.

Jake bolted out of his dorm room when you texted him for the first time after six months.

The annoyed complaints of his half-asleep roommate were fleeting. Strings of curses bounced off his hurried figure as he scrambled to put on a pair of sweatpants. When he snatched the keys off his desk, he knocked over the water bottle on the edge and earned another earful before he slammed the door shut.

The roads were empty and dark so late at night, allowing him to speed without potential repercussions. He checked his phone repeatedly during the drive for new messages, but the only text you sent after finally unblocking him was ‘help. shelter.’ It was radio silence after, like it had been the past six months.

It had been a mistake.

Jake knew he wasn't the type of man to take a bet. During his university years, nonetheless! But the effect of alcohol, his aversion to confrontation, and his friends' rowdiness pushed him to keep at the lie.

One year ago, he drunkenly confessed to you at a party, and you gave him a chance. Twelve months into dating each other, his friends drunkenly told you the truth, and you cut him out of your life without so much as a tear.

Tonight was the first time you've voluntarily spoken to him. He didn't care that you only did it because you needed his help. He would have learned every skill under the sun if it meant you'd talk to him again—plumbing, repairing, installing, modifying, you name it.

Tires screeched over the white line and stopped. He turned off the engine and got out of the car, unfazed as the cold air hit him until he reached the door of the animal shelter you worked at.

The lights were on inside.

He breathed through his mouth because that was the only way to accommodate how much air he needed.

You were inside, waiting for him.

A moment passed after he knocked. You opened the door carefully, peeking over the door frame not because you were cautious of the visitor but because you weren’t ready to face Jake yet.

His hair was disheveled, and his small eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. He did not wear enough for the cold weather, but the shelter was warm enough, so you tried to stop worrying about him.

Veins ran softly along his hands and arms, parts you’ve let touch you all over, inside and out. His limbs used to be confident and bashful, playfully reaching for your waist and shyly searching for your face.

Jake wouldn't dare to touch you now, not even to shake hands, not without your permission. He pulled at his fingers and watched you intently. His gaze traced your face, and his downturned eyes mimicked a dog on its death bed—timid, wishful, pleading.

"Hey," he greeted. "Is everything okay?"

You stared at him, subconsciously reminded of the first time you invited him to accompany you during a day shift at the shelter. Biting back a sob at the question, you shook your head and opened the door wider for him to enter.

“He’s back," you said. "Pluto is back."

Pluto was the golden retriever you and Jake fostered over the summer last year. He was adopted, returned, and adopted again after almost making it to his euthanasia day. It has been months since you last saw him so you thought he had found his forever home.

But, this afternoon, he surrendered again because the parents couldn’t handle having him and more than three children in the home.

You kept him company for most of your shift to ease his anxiety, but when it came time for you to close up and leave, he refused to enter the cage.

You attempted to lure him with toys and treats to no avail. It was as if he knew it would be over once he was locked up behind the metal bars.

“That’s...” Jake swallowed the frustration. He stopped hearing news about Pluto after you broke up. He had no idea it was given up once already. “That’s horrible.”

“I know. My coworker said she tried to convince the mother to bring Pluto home, but...” You trailed off in exhaustion. You rubbed your eyes and sunk your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you for help if I hadn’t run into a dead end. I don’t know what to do.”

"No, don't even–" he waved his hand dismissively with a soft chuckle– "don't even apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

You smiled. He always told you that. You couldn't remember a time when he was mad at you and demanded an apology, even when some of your decisions had been questionable.

If he was ever upset, you remembered all it ever took were hugs and kisses to make him feel better, the things you give your pet dog to brighten your day and theirs.

Sometimes, you wondered if he was easy or if it only worked for you because he was in love with you.

He told you otherwise, though. After dumping him, he spent two months pestering you however possible with a variety of apologies and only ever one confession: I love you. I love you more than anything.

He stopped after you snapped at him in public, practically humiliating him for your subconscious fulfillment.

You had given him everything—all of your firsts, all of your mind, and all of your body. He had deserved it. He stopped bothering you afterward, which was understandable.

A dog beaten and bruised enough would never return.

“Let's see what I can do," Jake said.

You pursed your lips and gestured for him to follow you.

The shelter remained the way it had been since the last time he visited. White ceiling lights, disorganized papers on the reception table, stacked metal cages, dirty food trays, narrow spaces, a dirty whiff of air, and abandoned pets everywhere.

He didn’t expect otherwise. There were never enough donations or government funds to make it a better place. People wouldn’t even do that for other people, let alone animals.

Jake spoke to the animals along the way, ignoring the ones asleep and cooing at the ones who jumped to greet him. As you led him to the back of the shelter, a sullen mass of fur curled up in the corner came into view.

"Pluto!" he exclaimed with considerate joy as he crouched with open arms. "Do you remember me, sweet boy?"

Pluto remembered. It got up from the corner and pounced on Jake, scraping its paws on his shoulders for a hug and licking his face. He laughed and rubbed its back, letting the affection attacks continue as Pluto pleased.

It got distracted when you also neared. Barking once for good measure, it bounced between your feet and Jake’s embrace, reliving how it used to be when he was still living with you both.

“He looks healthy," Jake said.

“He wasn't abused, just abandoned," you clarified.

"Same difference."

You peered at him like a hit dog about to holler.

In the depths of your conscience, you admitted that you were the one who gave up. Maybe you were well within your right to, or maybe you didn't believe in clarification and second chances.

You tried not to think about it too much. It made you feel bad.

"Where is his cage?" Jake asked offhandedly.

You motioned your chin toward the corner without thinking. You’ve already placed a cartoon blanket inside as a makeshift bed, and the dog bowl was filled half way with dry food.

“Alright, buddy,” Jake said, hopping onto his feet. “Let’s get you inside so we can go home.”

Pluto jumped up to meet Jake’s knees. He played with the dog, swinging his hands around its peripheral vision and playing bitey. You discreetly reached for the cage to open it. When he noticed, he stopped to hold Pluto’s face in his hands before lifting it up by its paws.

Jake was always the good cop. You made Pluto wait for dinner, didn't let it jump on your bed, and never fed it food under the table. Jake was easier. He took it on morning jogs, ran with it when it had zoomies, and sometimes cooked it a small plate of steak.

A little affection and a wide-eyed gaze could go a long way for Jake, but not so much for you.

You always knew the dog liked him better than you. You didn’t realize it would be easy for Jake to pick it up. However, just as you thought your ex-boyfriend would succeed, Pluto dropped its whole weight onto the floor and refused to budge.

Jake yelped at the sudden pull. His feet stuttered to balance himself, forcing him to release Pluto onto the floor. Not giving up, he shook his hands and reached down to try and pull it up again. The dog still wouldn’t budge.

Deciding to try another approach, instead of pulling Pluto up by its torso, Jake thought he could begin with its front legs. Once he gets them through, the rest should follow.

"Come on, buddy," he encouraged. “I know it's scary, but you gotta sleep somewhere warmer than the shelter hallway."

Pluto began to whimper when its front legs reached inside the cage. It used them to support itself, weighing itself down onto them to avoid being pushed inside wholly.

You furrowed your brows as you listened to Jake’s fading encouragement. He was a mirror of who you were a few hours ago when your shift began. He wasn’t growing impatient, only frustrated that this was how it had to be for a beloved pet.

Your shoulders sunk in defeat when you noticed droplets on the floor. Jake paused when you curled a hand around his arm and gently pulled him away.

“Let’s stop. He’s scared,” you said. “He peed on the floor. I’ll go get the mop.”

He glanced at the floor, but he was trying to see if you touched him again. And then he looked up at you, nodding in grim agreement. When you released his arm to clean the floor, he rubbed the spot with invisible desperation, trying his best to somehow keep your hold

"What do we do?" he asked, pressing a firm hold over where you touched him. "Shit, I feel horrible."

"You and me both." you sighed as you watched Pluto shrink into a corner. “I'll stay over with him."

"At the shelter?"

“It's not any worse than my apartment," you said. “Actually, I might be safer here with all the animals around. They’ll look out for me."

He wanted to protest. This was less about safety and more about comfort.

You looked exhausted, and he knew why. Midterms were happening left and right before the winter break, so you must be burning the midnight oil already. You’ve also got a difficult job to juggle with your classes.

He used to have to pull you away from your desk and trap you in his arms to get you to sleep.

Regardless, you needed to sleep somewhere soft and warm, and the animal shelter didn't have anything remotely similar to that besides the furry babies.

The furry babies and him, he supposed.

“I'll stay with you," Jake said.

You shook your head. This would ruin your plan to get over him, which has been going on for over half a year yet has garnered no real progress.

You still thought about him day and night, seeing him in the shadows of your once-shared apartment and whispering his name into your pillow. You blocked and avoided him because you knew he could lure you back so quickly because you had unfortunately been in love with him the entire time.

“It’s fine. You should go home,” you said. “I’m sorry I called you up so late.”

"No, I don't mind," he protested. “It’s not like I was sleeping anyway."

He visibly gulped, swallowing any sentiment because you’ve rescinded his right to love you. And you bit your tongue to keep the fight and the cries in because it wasn’t easy to look at him and not do something.

You couldn't kiss him, you couldn't fight him, and you didn't want to hurt him.

"Do whatever you want," you muttered.

Jake watched you leave the room. He heard cabinet doors opening, and he moved against the wall to sit down. He reached a hand out, his palm facing skyward, and he gently lured Pluto onto his lap. When you returned, it was with two thin blankets, one for yourself and one for them.

You reached for the cage to take the food bowl out and closed the door, locking it. You sat next to Jake, across from his side, and wrapped the blanket around you.

"What are we going to do now?” You eyed the dog.

"What are the protocols?" he asked.

"We hold and look for housing," you said. "But–" you reached out to rub Pluto’s head–"he's getting old. It took long enough to find a family who's willing to adopt him, so there's no guarantee we will be able to find anything before he's put on the euthanasia list."

As Jake ran over what you said in his head, you took a small handful of dry food to feed Pluto, who released itself from pressing on Jake’s chest to eat. You smiled at its eagerness, but your brows were furrowed with unspoken sorrow.

It seemed you could already predict Pluto’s fate, but you needed to device a course of action for good measure. Anything to make sure you didn't give up immediately, even when there was nothing you could do.

There was nothing worse than being at the bottom. Knowing that after taking so many turns, you ended up at the dead end you were meant to reach anyway. Looking at you was almost like looking at himself—both of you have exhausted all your resources.

But Jake was known for going above and beyond. At least for you, he would.

“I can adopt him."

You perked up slowly in bewilderment. The reason why you two decided to foster Pluto back then was because of a dual income. If it was so affordable to own an old dog, you would have done it already.

"You live on campus. The dorms don't allow pets," you said. "You also don't have money. What are you gonna do if he gets sick?"

“I’ll move out. I’ll get a second job and pick up more shifts at the current one,” he said with a shrug. “There are cheap places to live, and I’m sure Jay will be willing to help me if it comes down to it.”

"Jake–"

“If push comes to shove, I’ll move back home,” he said, his voice slightly louder to drown out your worries with his optimism. “Let this be the last disappointing thing I do to my mom!”

You wanted to hold his face and talk him out of it. His optimism was both a friend and a foe. Sometimes, it pushes him to do amazing things, but mostly, he ends up embarrassing himself.

No, your coworker wouldn’t want to talk to you after being denied their vacation time over yours. No, your mother already thinks you buy enough unnecessary things; she won’t appreciate this. No, that won’t help anyone like you think it would.

You’ve often had to be his voice of reason for the most trivial things. It usually worked. His brain fries and he turns all putty when he’s being held, but he’s extra impressionable in your hands. He’d agree to anything just to keep you talking.

“You’re going to struggle," you warned.

“I'd rather that than have you feel guilty that you couldn't do more for our dog."

“You don’t know that I will,” you scoffed with a brief glare.

His eyes were on you. It has been on your since the moment you saw each other.

“I know you will. I know you," he retorted.

He was right. No matter how much you played up the role of a bad cop, or the nonchalant pet owner, ultimately, you cared. Maybe not as much as he did, maybe not as much as he could, and definitely not as openly as he could. But you loved the dog. 

It was your dog. It was you and Jake’s dog.

Pluto stayed with you for a few of the happiest months of your life. The months when you woke up seeing Jake and went to sleep talking to him. Losing the dog is a significant progression to an end.

"This isn't about me." You shook your head. “Don't do this for me.”

“I can’t not,” he said. “I want to."

“Why?" It came out before you knew it. It was a trap.

The room went quiet, accompanied only by the sound of chewing and the impossible thoughts of escaping such silence. You focused on the food disappearing from the metal bowl, doing your best to keep away the tremors from knowing his eyes were on you, from already knowing his answer to your question. 

Something has to happen when the food is gone. 

A distraction, an apology, a reconciliation, a blackout.

"Because I love you."

A confession.

You dropped the bowl and rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. Heat released from all corners of your body, traveling to the base of your neck where it pulled at your nerves, souring all the way up to your tear ducts. He kept saying that; it was the last thing you wanted to hear from him. 

His breathing quickened at your dismay, and the corners of his lips arched down in shame. He looked away from you at Pluto’s head, wondering what about his affection was so genuinely sickening that you had to reject it with so much force.

If it was about his bet with his friends, he had already attempted to explain that multiple times.

“I'm sorry I kept the bet from you. I really am. I will never deny that it was a terrible decision, that I was drunk when I first confessed to you," he said defensively, a whimper catching in his voice. 

“Won’t you just–“ you rolled your eyes– “just stop. Stop explaining it to me.”

“No! I need you to understand that I never lied about how I felt after!” he exclaimed.

It never changed. His story wouldn’t have a contradiction even if he tried to rip it apart on purpose. He lied to you because he was drunk, he pretended to be your boyfriend, and then he ended up becoming it. His friends told the same story, and he repeated it multiple times. You’ve heard it all.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it with intention. When he realized his eyes had begun to cry, his voice and movement followed. Looking down at the floor helplessly, his shoulders hunched up as if to shrink small. 

You blew air into your cheeks and bit the inside of your lip. Seeing him cry made you cry. You never wanted to hurt him again. You didn't think that you could, and oh, how you were proven wrong. 

“How come you don’t believe me?” he asked, his voice timid as a child wronged by his parents. “I fell in love with you. You have no right to take that from me.”

Feeling a sob come up, you dropped your head and stared at the floor. Goosebumps lined around your heart, suppressing its beating with unease. That was the problem. He told the truth, which was the problem because you couldn’t handle it.

"Do you know how I felt when I found out?" you asked. "I wasn't angry, or frustrated, or even sad. I was just disappointed that it made sense."

Jake wasn’t a man of your caliber. Even when he first confessed to you, you mistook it as an act of aggression. Hence, you double-checked with him the next day through text; surprisingly, he didn’t deny it.

He was a great boyfriend. He was kind and supportive, handsome and strong, charming and considerate. The whole nine yards. He stumbled once in a while, but he never did anything wrong.

It was both agony and relief when you discovered that he initially stayed for a bet. While it was hurtful to know you and him would have never happened otherwise, it fulfilled your growing itch that needed a reason to feel bad. While you lost the love of your life, the loss helped you make sense of a greatness you didn’t think you deserved, all by forcing you to let go of it.

Jake didn’t do anything wrong. He couldn’t if he tried. It was just easier when he didn’t love you back. Because then you wouldn’t feel like you were taking up too much space, and your inferiority has a reason to exist. 

“It was hell to hate myself,” you said. “If I made it seem like you never loved me at all, then all the pain wouldn’t be for nothing.”

“I don’t understand.” His voice was tearful, and he played with Pluto’s fur so his hands wouldn’t claw at his skin to peel himself to death, knowing that you felt like hell when you were with him. “Did you always feel like that?”

You went around the answer but remained truthful. Yes, you felt like that all the time. No, it had nothing to do with him. 

You told him how great he was, how you appreciated everything about him. The fact that he remembers every little thing, how his voice is soft, and his willingness to always be the bigger person. 

Self-hate was an accumulated skill that can never be unlearned and only worsens. He was in the wrong position when it decided to show itself. 

You simply didn't love yourself enough to have him. That was it. 

Irregular drops of tears rolled down his face. He began to hiccup away the knots of air stuck in his throat that were supposed to be violent sobs. He looked everywhere but at you, and his hands curled and uncurled to catch pressure in the air.

He suffocated with every word you said. It didn’t matter that you admitted he wasn’t the reason; he was horrified that you thought his love would be better stored anywhere else than with you, his keeper.

For six months, he stayed cooped up inside himself, uncomfortable but unwilling to burst just in case you would come back to drain his soul out of him. He would return to where he belonged, through your mouth into your skin.

The dog on his lap had become a nuisance, but he kept it there. 

Jake pushes nothing away. He stretches and pulls until someone snaps him in half to stop him.

"Please don't be upset," you whispered after cutting yourself short. “I'm sorry for everything. It wasn't your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either,” he said. “The mind is–is a weird thing. It’s a weird thing. Sometimes you can’t help it. I understand. It’s not your fault, either. I don’t want–“ he pursed his lips, his hair shaking with his head– “I don’t want you to blame yourself. It hurts knowing you did something–something bad. I don’t want you to–uh,” his voice became smaller, “I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

Scooting to sit next to him, you took off his glasses and set them on the floor next to you. You pulled at the hem of your sweater to wipe the tears around his tired eyes. You cleaned him and yourself, wetting your sleeve with mutual suffering.

“What do I do?” he asked, leaning his head against the wall with a faint shake. “I miss you.”

“I'm sorry," you said, disarming your mind. 

“I won’t say anything. You don’t have to believe I love you. We can just be friends,” he bargained. “I just want to be around. Please let me.”

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you pressed closer against his side and smiled bitterly at the notion that you’ll never find someone like him again. That was why you gave him a chance a year ago, but instead of his dashing looks and fit physique, it was his extraordinary affection this time. 

Who else would love you enough to pretend he doesn’t love you at all? It’s just him.

“I should probably go see a doctor, huh?” you joked, wiping under his eye with your thumb. “They can help me come around.”

Jake raised his hand. It shakily hovered around your wrist, waiting for permission.

You pushed the back of your palm toward it, allowing him to engulf your hand with his, and then you brought it to his face, holding him gently. He smiled a little; he couldn’t help it upon the familiar, long-awaited touch.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

You glanced at his lips. Stained with tears, like it was rained on. You nudged his nose with yours, and you kissed him. He shuddered. His mouth was metallic and sour; you realized there was a canker sore in his mouth. It must be painful. He kissed you anyway, resting his whole life on your lips. 

Pulling away, he bumped his forehead against yours, his features softening in relief. 

It was always the same confession. He never deviated from it.

I love you. I love you more than anything. I love you more than me.

“Do you want to take care of Pluto together?”

And that was your version of it.

[jackiepackiee]

Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter Five

Masterlist

Prince Telemachus who is favored by Athena with a reader who's favored by Apollo. Both under the guidance of the god and goddess of wisdom and knowledge respectively. One a fierce warrior and the other a lovely musician. Yet complete opposites of their role when it comes to a peaceful artist and intimidating opponent.

Previously…

Looking embarrassed, he shrugged and his shoulders turned inwards a little.

Until you laughed. First, a small huff before a full giggle at his antics. Shocked and amused by his actions, you laughed.

And he thought it was the best sound ever, even better than the music from your lyre.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where are you going?” You asked, your laughter dying down as you took in a breath and watched him.

His head tilted to the side and his hair fell over his forehead, his body was turning to go inside. “Your lessons?” He referenced, pointing to the hallway.

“We don’t have to do it inside.” You offered, leaning against the wall while sitting on the balcony's stone railing.

“My mother will be accepting us to be…” He started, until he saw the way the sun was glowing on your face so beautifully. Wind taking your clothing and making it flow like water around your body.

He stopped, clearing his throat and looking away to the sky in thought. “Well, the weather is lovely.”

You nodded, unaware of his type of gaze. Looking at the view yourself. “I’ve never seen this part of the island.”

What could be seen was a part of the beach that only the palace could see, placed in a way that was down far in the island like a cove. Letting the rest of the view be mountains, ocean, and sky.

And against it, Telemachus thought you looked like a goddess in front of such a view when he looked back at you.

Clearing his throat, he spoke again. “Then we should stay outside… so you can see the new view! Of course.”

Trying to get a better look below, past his training grounds to the rest of the nature, you tilted forward. As you leaned, he gently took your upper arm and shoulder into his hands and stabled you. Strong body keeping you from going too far over the railing. His face was flush, but he didn’t mind it while he acted.

“This is very high up, my lady.” Despite his nervousness that was obvious from the touch, he refused to let you get too close to the ledge.

In reaction, you laughed again. Not minding his touch as he guided you to stand on the balcony. Feet meeting the ground as you joked. “That is silly coming from the prince who just climbed all the way up.” Smiling, your eyes couldn’t help but close at his behavior.

Not being able to see him, you couldn’t see the way his face softened entirely as he took in your expression. Feeling his heart in his chest, aware of every beat that it made in its haste. He took his hands away from you when you stood balanced on the floor.

When you finally stopped laughing, you picked up your lyre into the proper position. Not seeing the way he quickly shook his head and got focused.

“Have you ever played an instrument?” You inquired, making sure all the strings were in tune.

“…no.” He admitted, adjusting the brackets of gold on his forearms nervously. Twisting them so he didn’t look too interested in talking with you.

As you listened for his answer, you nodded. “That’s okay. We all start somewhere.” You spoke absentmindedly, finishing your check of your lyre.

Continuing on, you looked up at him. “What do you know about music?”

“That you’re good at making pretty songs.” He responded quickly, not putting much thought into his answer. As he realized his compliment however, he tensed up. Shoulders tightening as he stood straight up and put his hands up defensively. Flush returned to his cheeks, which the close proximity didn’t hide. “I didn’t mean to be so bold. Apologies.” His voice sounded higher than before.

Seeing his panic at the apparent fear of making you uncomfortable in his forward comments, you felt something strange in your chest.

A pulling at your heart which seemed to grow faster. So much so that you could feel it, even hear it in your ears and get caught in your breath.

“You’ve heard me play enough to know that?” You asked, trying to spin the conversation away from either of your reactions.

“Well… I heard you the day you arrived here. And yesterday when we were introduced. As well as today when you played during my training.” He admitted, recounting all the times he’s heard you.

Unbeknownst to him, you’d only ever played simple tunes off the top of your head while he was around. Not enough to impress anyone, at least not in your mind.

Before you could argue, he continued. “I know it’s not much, and it’s not like I’ve asked you to play for me. But I enjoy how it sounds.” He leans against the wall, looking at your lyre as if trying to understand its structure.

“I’ve never been very good at art… My mother is the artist of the palace.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he smiled gently at his admission.

Hearing this, you shook your head at his words. “I’m sure you could be wonderful, so you mustn’t be so doubtful.”

The confidence you had in him was surprising, though it soothed his mind of his worries.

“Thank you.” He looked back up at your eyes as he thanked you, letting his face relax as he took in your calm expression.

For a while the two of you stood in silence, only being able to hear the ocean crashing against the cove below and birds occasionally swoosh by the balcony.

After a minute or two, he started to speak. Voice not shaky, but not entirely stable and confident as he tried to present himself as a prince. “Hey, um. Do you think you could play me a real song?” He looked out to the sky, watching a cloud, before continuing his request. “I’ve only heard you for short periods.”

Confused at his desire, you made it known. “That doesn’t sound like much of a lesson.” Your voice was calm as it was before, but you didn’t look away. In fact you seemed to be in thought while gazing at your lyre in your hands. Fingers ghosting over the strings.

“Well, I guess not.” He shrugged, mentally hitting his head at his mistake for what seemed like a silly request. It was only your second time meeting, and he couldn’t help but be so forward and awkward!

After a few more bouts of silence, you spoke. Gaze moving from your lyre to his expectant face. “…I’ll play something.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Hearing music play, the queen paced down the corridor slowly towards the sound. Her nurse and most trusted maid, Eurycleia, at her side.

“Is that your son playing, my queen?” Eurycleia questioned, following a few steps behind the queen as she walked towards the noise.

“I doubt it.” Her level voice said honestly. “It must be the girl, as I’ve heard she’s one of the best musicians in all of Greece.” Slowing down, she stopped her quick pace when she neared the balcony.

The two women did not dare peek past the stone pillars of the wall. Not wishing to be caught or interrupt the lesson.

Eurycleia whispered, “We can get a better view from the window down the hall.”

And with that, the two walked a few meters down and turned so they could spot the two of you on the balcony.

You were both the picture of content.

You, strumming your lyre as you gently draped yourself against the railing. Sun gleaming onto you as it lit up on your golden instrument. It was obvious you were in a position of comfort. Doing something you know and love.

And the prince, Telemachus, was watching attentively. Eyes flickering around from your face to your hands. Letting his guard down, and looking absolutely entranced. Almost like he heard a siren song.

Both of you adorning smiles as the beautiful melody, looking almost childlike.

A state Penelope hadn’t seen her son in for years since the suitors roamed the halls and spiked his pressure to become a man.

The queen and nurse smiled at the boy, never seeing him allow himself to be in such a natural state of self.

“I know music lessons would be a good idea.” The queen said, smiling at Eurycleia.

“All it took was finding the perfect teacher.”

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[mr-hopkins]

Weekend Distractions with Sunghoon 🌶️✨

Synopsis: While you're working on the weekend, a needy Sunghoon returns from the gym. Having the energy to do much more than to distract you from your work.

The soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated the dimly lit living room as you typed away, trying to finish some last-minute work before Monday. It was the weekend, but your mind was already occupied with deadlines. You barely noticed the front door unlocking until the sound of footsteps echoed through the apartment.

Sunghoon had just come back from the gym, his black hoodie unzipped, revealing a sweat-slicked tank top clinging to his toned body. His hair was slightly damp, sticking to his forehead, and there was a restless energy about him as he dropped his bag by the door.

Read the rest below 👇🏻

"You’re still working?" His deep voice broke the silence, laced with something you couldn’t quite place—something dark, needy.

"Yeah," you murmured, barely sparing him a glance as you continued typing. "I’ve got a long day tomorrow, so I just want to get ahead."

You felt him before you saw him. The heat of his body radiated behind you as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear. "You always say that. When’s the last time you took a break?"

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard when his hands slid down to your shoulders, kneading them lightly. His touch was warm, firm, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Sunghoon—"

"You smell too good," he interrupted, his voice a low growl. His lips brushed against your neck, and suddenly, work was the last thing on your mind.

"Did the gym make you this needy, or is it just me?" you teased, tilting your head slightly to give him more access.

He chuckled, dark and low. "A little bit of both. I couldn't stop thinking about touching you the entire time I was working out." His hands trailed down your arms, resting on your wrists before gently closing your laptop. "You're done for the night."

Before you could protest, he was pulling you to your feet, his eyes dark with desire. You barely had a second to react before he crashed his lips against yours, deep and hungry. His hands gripped your waist, pressing you flush against his body. You could feel every ridge of his muscles, the way his breath hitched as you slid your hands under his hoodie, tracing his abdomen.

"Bed," he murmured between kisses, his fingers already tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Now."

You gasped as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss. The moment you hit the mattress, he was on you—desperate, needy, yet so incredibly careful with the way he touched you.

It was rough, passionate, and filled with whispered praises and deep, breathless laughter. His hands claimed every inch of you, his lips never straying too far from your skin. He took his time, despite the urgency, making sure you felt every bit of him. Such nights were a bliss to be with him.

When it was over, you lay in his arms, your chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath. He brushed damp strands of hair from your face, his touch now featherlight.

"You okay?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You hummed in contentment, snuggling closer. "You’re such a menace. But yeah… more than okay."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Menace, huh? You weren’t complaining earlier."

You swatted his chest playfully, making him laugh as he pulled you closer, draping the blanket over both of you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

"You’re staying here all night," he said, voice firm but affectionate.

"As if I’d want to move," you mumbled against his skin, pressing a lingering kiss to his collarbone. "But just so you know, I still have work tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes and pinched your waist lightly. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll just have to make sure you sleep well so you’re ready for it."

His grin was pure mischief, but the way he kissed your temple was nothing but sweet.

[jclolz22]

multi bot release

i thought i’d release some bots while i’m still finishing up my next big release, so here are some randoms that i’ve worked on lately. i hope you guys enjoy, and thank you again for all the support and love!!

note: yes i am aware that for the kate sharma bot, it is a combination of two different scenes, that did not happen at the same time, nor did they even happen consecutively. i was mistaken when i first made the bot and just kept it the way i did it. also, whoever requested the professor!tashi bot, i love you because this one is a new fave of mine.

aubrey posen and chloe beale — recruitment

ever since aubrey’s mishap at last year’s icca finals, things went downhill for the barden bellas. now, it’s a new school year, and they’re looking for new members. seeing them at the activity fair, neither chloe nor aubrey can stop themselves from trying to recruit you and rebuild the bellas’ image.

cece parekh — in love (gn!user)

you’ve tried so hard to deny your lasting feelings for cece, knowing that it’s the best thing for both of you, especially considering the fact that she doesn’t feel the same way. at least, that’s what you’ve thought for the longest time now. hearing jess’ confession of cece’s feelings for you has you ready to find her on that mountain and tell her the truth. that is, until you have an unexpected visitor at the loft.

kate sharma — bee fright

your pall-mall ball, along with kate’s, got lost in the forestry surrounding your home, so you and her go to search for them. after spotting the balls, you notice that they’re near an area you’d prefer to avoid. kate went over to her ball, ready to hit it when you saw a bee land on her, sending you into a deep panic. the memories of your father flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t stop yourself from being overcome with anxiety.

quinn fabray — real you

quinn is discouraged by lauren exposing her past, yet you want to make sure that she knows you don’t care about who she used to be— you love her anyway and want her to know that she shouldn’t be ashamed of her younger self.

quinn fabray — reuniting (req./gn!user)

dating quinn was more than wonderful, but going to different colleges and trying to do long distance just didn’t work out. four years later, you’re both college graduates, and she’s more than excited to see you again. but when she shows up at your apartment and comes inside, the sight that surrounds her is one that shocks her all at the same time. she’s left with many questions, and wants the answers.

santana lopez — rumours

ever since you said that santana “plays for the other team,” it’s been the newest piece of hot gossip in the muckraker, mckinley’s student-run paper. it’s safe to say that seeing that in the latest edition did not make her happy; not at all.

tashi duncan — office hours (req.)

you love going to stanford, and you always enjoy going to class as you’re truly interested in what you’re studying. having tashi as one of your professors may or may not be your sole motivation when it comes to going to office hours consistently. well, every single day, actually. she’s even offered to provide you assistance on the weekends.

[heartsforvin]

single dad!vinnie and readers first date !

after the coffee shop incident, vinnie found himself thinking about you a lot, more than he’d like to admit. the two of you ended up running into each other again a few days after that.

vinnie wasn’t one to think much about fate, he honestly never really believed in it. when he saw you again though, he knew it wasn’t just a coincidence.

the two of you talked for a bit before vinnie finally got the courage to ask for your number. once you gave it to him, he had mentioned something about a date.

you thought he was just joking around with you, you had gotten the idea he didn’t really want anything serious anyways.

once vinnie had put his son to bed, however, he was up until late hours of the night texting you. getting to know you, what hobbies you’re interested in, what you do for a living, any question he could ask.

he finally brought up the date again, asking if you were free on the upcoming friday night. you were, and even if you weren’t, you’d find a way to go out.

vinnie couldn’t help but smile ear to ear when you had said you were available. he was ecstatic, practically counting down the days until it was time for the date.

once saturday rolled around, he texted you right after he got jj ready for the day. he asked if you were still up for it, which of course you said yes.

he let you know he’d pick you up around seven, not wanting to be too early, but also not wanting to be too late either.

all throughout the day both of you could only think about the night ahead. never had you thought you’d agree to a date with some guy you just met at a coffee shop.

seven pm finally came and vinnie was right outside your house. he texted you saying he was there and you quickly made your way out to his car.

“hey.” you smile as you get in the car. buckling your seatbelt, you put your purse on the floor beside your feet.

vinnie glanced at you for a moment, taking in your appearance. you wore a long black dress that he thought looked absolutely beautiful on you.

“hey,” he says, giving you a smile in return. “you look beautiful.”

blushing, you reply, “thank you.” shyly. vinnie thought it was the cutest thing.

after making sure you were ready to go, vinnie put the car in drive and the two of you were off to the restaurant.

on the way, he made small conversation — or tried to. he couldn’t help the fact he was nervous. he hadn’t been on a date since before jj was even born, so it’s definitely been a minute.

once the two of you made it to the restaurant, vinnie put the car in park and got out. he rounded the car and opened your door for you, smiling as he held out his hand for you to take.

with a thank you, you took his hand and the two of you walked into the restaurant.

once seated, the two of you talked for a minute before ordering drinks and then food. you noticed vinnie eyeing you every time you’d look away. you almost caught him a couple times as he did.

“so,” you say after taking a sip of your drink. “how long have you lived in LA?” you ask.

vinnie finishes sipping his drink before he says, “since i was eighteen.”

you nod, vinnie can tell you were probably doing math in your head about how long he was in a new city before becoming a father.

but in reality, that wasn’t what you were thinking at all. you watch vinnie sigh, he opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“i’m not thinking what you think i am,” you tell him. “stop judging yourself, vinnie.” your tone isn’t stern, he knows you’re not upset, just giving him the self esteem he needs.

he nods his head, sipping his drink. this date isn’t to talk about his son, it’s to get to you and for him to get to know you.

the night continues with smiles and laughs, getting to know each other more and more as the night goes on.

vinnie learned you were into drawing and dabbling in some creative writing. while as you learned that when vinnie has down time, he loves to play video games and practice guitar.

you watch him talk, watch how his hands move and mouth twitches up into a smile when he talks about interests he loves.

“you in college or anything?” vinnie then asks, making you smile and nod.

you put your drink down before answering. “UCLA, coincidentally for creative writing. but i got a few other electives and classes to branch out on.” you explain.

vinnie nods with a smile. “that’s cool, you like it?” he asks.

you hum. “love it,” you smile. “in my last year, just have to figure out a career now.”

vinnie chuckles softly. he takes a sip of his drink again. the two of you continue talking, learning more and more about each other and your lifestyles, along with interests and hobbies.

before the two of you know it, it’s nearing ten pm. vinnie checks his phone and sees a few missed texts from his mom and dad.

“it’s already ten?” you chuckle with a smile. “shit, time does fly when you’re having fun.”

vinnie smiles, feeling relieved at the fact you had fun with him tonight. the two of you pack up your things and he pays the bill before you heard back to his car.

he drives you back to your place, walking you up to your door to say goodnight. as he stands there, the urge to kiss you grows, but he doesn’t want to overstep not only your boundaries, but his own too.

so, he settles on kissing your cheek, caressing the spot he had planted his lips on for a moment. you lean into his touch and smile.

“thank you for tonight, vinnie,” you tell him. “i had a lot of fun, we should do this again.” you smile.

vinnie let’s go of your cheek, putting his arm to the side. “yeah, i had fun. definitely should do it again.” he tells you.

the two of you say goodnight and he gets back in his car and drives home. once he’s settled in bed, he tells you he got home safe and talks to you just a little bit longer before deciding to really call it a night.

as he closes his eyes and starts to drift off to sleep, that’s when he realizes that maybe dating isn’t all that bad.

[thatgirlthatwritessmut]

weird rq but likeeee? oh well here we go ! so basically rafe and yn are dating but then she finds out about the sheriff peterkin thing from ju and when rafe comes home she is PACING. she and rafe have a conversation and she goes to call the police but then rafe doesn't want to go to jail and tries to say it's because JJ doesn't like him and she obviously doesn't believe it so he like thinks about killing her but then ends up locking her in the thingy majigy I forgot what it's called til she changes her mind

idea honestly came from this song so !

calm down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rafe cameron x female reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ~ your boyfriend rafe locks you in a room until you calm down after finding out about him killing sheriff peterkin.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ~ dark!rafe, violence, toxic behaviors, unhealthy relationship, emotional outbursts, kisses, crying.

—————

your friends and lover never got along. there was always something coming up. your pogue friends would always tell you that you should break up with rafe but you simply wouldn’t. even though you were pretty sure he was a psychopath you couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.

rafe didn't make it easy though. he was short tempered and ill mannered. sometimes you wanted to smack him across the face for the words that spilled from it. at times you did let your feelings get the best of you and the shape of your handprint would take over the pale flesh of his cheek. he would soon grab a hold of you and the two of you would tussle around but it wouldn't be long till your lips crashed on his inhaling his toxicity.

you knew this relationship was bad for you but you were blinded by love and desire which made the recent information that you were given hard to swallow.

you're taking your family boat out enjoying the air from the sea before you get a text from your friend jj.

jj: y/n I need you to meet me at my place. we need to talk. now.

confusion corses through your body as you quickly reply back.

y/n: jj what's going on?

jj: just hurry and get here fast.

you immediately put your phone aside as you grab a hold of the steering wheel on the boat and head for the dock. once you arrive you tie it up. as you finish you dash towards your car, hitting the gas. its not long till you're on jj front porch knocking on the door filled with worry. jj quickly opens the door and pulls you in without a word. "jj...whats going on?!" you say breaking the silence. he stares at you calculating his words. "you won't believe me.". "how could you know that?" you say slightly annoyed. "because its involving your boy toy...". your body freezes suddenly becoming breathless. "r-....rafe?- what the fuck did he do now?". "something bad. something he's not going to come back from...well he might because he's blaming everything he did on john b.". "what?!...why the hell is he doing that?". jj goes silent again. 'WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO JJ?!" you finally shout.

“HE SHOT SHERIFF PETERKIN!”

as you hear those words you step back not believing what's been said. "no....NO! that can't be true. he's done his fair share of fucked up things but he would never go as far as....as far as...murder.". 'oh yeah? that's funny because I saw him with my own eyes. me, kie, pope, john b, and even sarah. she'll tell you what he did and that's her own blood!".

you shake your head, tears beginning to blur your vision. you try to speak through your tightened throat. "whe-...when did this happen?". "recently....I wanted to let you know sooner but a LOT as been going on. I wasn't sure if you were at his place or not so i texted you as soon as i could. you're not safe around him y/n!". you stare at the wall choked up before making your way to the door.

"hey! where are you going?". jj quickly foots behind you not letting you out of his sight. as you walk outside you run to your car not looking back. "y/n don't do this! you hear me? don't!". you ignore jj's commands entering your car and slamming the door behind you. "I'm getting to the bottom of this! don't follow me!". with that said you put your car in reverse and make your way to the cameron house.

~~~~

you’re pacing at the front door as rafe arrives home. he glances at you surprised by your presence. as he locks the door he greets you. “hey baby. you didn’t tell me you were stopping by-”. “did you kill sheriff peterkin?”. he face stiffens as he looks up from the lock and stares at the door back facing you. silence takes over the house as your movements stop as well, eyes burning a hole into his neck. you repeat your question. “DID YOU KILL-”. “who told you that?” he snaps, turning around now stepping towards you with speed. “don’t worry about who. answer my damn question rafe!”. his jaw clenches as he stares at you then looks away trying to come up with a lie. “no. john b did.”. you immediately strike back. “liar….i know you’re not telling the truth i can see it in your face!”. you point your finger at him disgusted that he has put you in this position.

rafe begins to shake his head. “not here. not while wheezy and rose is at home okay? lets-”. “NO! no! you will not push me away rafe! why not tell the truth why not tell them that you KILLED SHERIFF PETE-”. rafe grabs you and takes his hand to your mouth silencing your words. “i really wish you wouldn’t do that.” he says, his strength besting you. “get off of me!” you say muffled as you push him away only being able to break free because he allowed you. the two of you stare at each other silently before you speak once again. “rafe…i’m going to ask you one last time. did. you. kill. sheriff. peterkin?”.

he narrows his eyes at you before shaking his head once again. you force a smile as you nod. “…okay…well i guess i’ll find out once the police hears about this won’t i?”. you make your way to the door and he blocks your path. “what does that mean?”. “oh you know what it means.”. his icey glare slightly scares you but you don’t let it show. you inch closer to him. “what now rafe?…are you going to shoot me too?”. you see the gears start to turn in his head, like he was actually considering the idea.

you try to push past him again but now you’re met with his hand to your neck. “r- rafe?” you stutter gripping his wrist. he starts backing you to a door glaring at you with every step. when your back hits the door you yell. “let me go!”. he doesn’t listen pulling you to the side by your neck as he opens the room and throws you inside of it. you fall to the ground wincing in pain. as you look back you watch him swiftly close the door. as you lay on the ground you start to hear a locking sound. you eyes widen and you panick. “no..NO! RAFE!”. you get up from the floor, pacing to the door and begin pounding it. “LET ME OUT!” you scream, beginning to kick. “i’m not letting you out, y/n. not until you calm down, okay?”. “screw you!” you shout through the door. “i’m trying to be civil here, and you’re freaking out right now.”. as your face turns with anger you suddenly hear a familiar voice coming down the stairs.

“rafe what the hell is going on? who is that?”. “r- rose?” you say thankful that she was here. “is- is that y/n?” rose says confused. “yeah.” rafe admits. “why is she locked in there?”. you immediately answer. “rafe locked me in!”. “she’s locked in there because sometimes you have to make the hard choice, right? she just didn’t get that.”. he then turns to the door so he can make sure you hear him. “you fail to understand that constantly, don’t you? huh? DONT YOU?”. he brings his fist up to punch the door. “shut the hell up!” you scream as you push your shoulder into the wood standing between you two hoping to break the lock. “you need to CALM DOWN!” he yells back at you. “what do you mean calm down?!” you reply. but then the other side of the door goes quiet. as a little time goes by you hear something again.

“y/n…what is it going to be?”. your pounding stops as you hear rafe’s voice again. “where is rose?”. “she went upstairs okay? i told her you’re fine which you are.”. “RAFE! stop it now! let me out!”. “i’ll only let you out once you promise me that you won’t go to the cops. so i’ll say it again...what is it going to be?”. you stop responding. soon rafe presses his ear to the door confused but quickly hears a glass shattering against the door. “LET ME OUT ASSHOLE!”. “okay. I’ll give you some time to come to your senses.”. as you hear his steps grow distant you punch harder. “let me out!” you insist. “i really wanna help you, but i need you to help me too okay?” rafe says as he walks up the stairs. you begin to repeat the word “no” over and over again not wanting to stay in the room another minute. “rafe? rafe?…please don’t leave!” you say softly as you give up on breaking the door. you slowly fall to the floor backing up into a corner bringing your knees to your chest. you cover your face as tears fill your eyes. you couldn’t believe what was happening.

after a while you hear the lock turning. you lift yourself from the floor watching as rafe opens the door. “y/n? have you calmed down?”. you nod your head repeatedly slowly walking towards him. as you walk out the door he grabs a hold of your waist. “i hope you can forgive me. i never want you to have to see me like that but you gave me no choice.” he says wiping your tears away with his thumb. your head nods as you sniffle. he then plants a kiss on your cheek then temple as he pull you into a hug. as he locks you into his warm embrace your mind fills with one thought.

should you protect your friends or your lover?

writers note ~ sorry if this feels rushed. lots have been going on in my life. i hope you still enjoyed !! :)

[starsanatomy]

What if instead of Overwatch it was called FREAKwatch and this was the Lucio lifeguard skin

OG design by other window here on tumblr! Please shoot them a follow, their designs and models are beautiful

And of course the OG design for your viewing pleasure

[makkie-is-screaming]

my dads mad at me bc I said I want a tattoo when I turn 18 n said some shit n said it would be ruining my body,, sir I’ve been cvtting since I was 12 that ship sailed. A tattoo would not be ruining my body, especially compared to some of the shit I’ve already been doing to it.

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x neighbour!reader: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach! (Or in your case, the way to four men’s heart is through their stomach))

It started with cookies.

You’d been in the middle of baking a double batch- oatmeal chocolate chip, your personal favorite- and realized halfway through scooping them onto the tray that you’d made far too many for one person. It wasn’t unusual. Baking was how you coped with stress, and ever since you’d moved into this apartment building, stress had been in no short supply.

The guy in 4A had blared music all night. Your hot water barely lasted five minutes. And your smoke detector had developed a habit of chirping at odd hours.

But there was one bright spot- your neighbors in 4C.

You’d seen them coming and going. Tall, broad, and always carrying duffel bags that looked far too heavy to be legal. They kept odd hours, too, but never caused trouble. One of them- Johnny, you’d learned later- had even held the door open for you when your arms were full of groceries.

Which was why you’d stood outside their door that evening, balancing a plate of cookies and feeling like an idiot as you knocked.

Not-Johnny had answered first, blinking down at you in surprise, though his smile was warm and he was beautiful. You couldn’t blame him; you had barely spoken to them more than a few short words.

“Uh… hi?”

“Hi.” You forced a smile. “I’m your neighbor from 4B. I, uh… made too many cookies?”

His eyes dropped to the plate immediately, and you swore you saw something primal flicker behind them. Still, you worried.

“I mean, if you don’t want-”

“No! No, we want. Come in- Johnny! Get over here!”

And that was how it started.

The second time had been lasagna.

You’d just finished assembling it when you realized- again- that you’d made too much. So, after psyching yourself up for ten minutes, you’d knocked on their door for the second time in as many weeks.

Price, who had introduced himself along wuth Simon the day you dropped off the cookies, had answered that time, his expression guarded until he saw the foil-covered pan in your hands.

“You’re joking,” he’d said, but when you started to retreat, he’d stopped you with a firm, but gentle hand on your back. He had such a nice, big hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, lovie. Get in here.”

That night, you’d sat at their table, sharing stories and laughter while they cleaned the dish down to the last crumb.

After that, it became routine.

You started “testing recipes,” and they became your eager guinea pigs.

And they never seemed to mind.

And now…

The smell hit first- roasted garlic, browned butter, and something rich simmering low and slow. It snuck out from the slightly cracked kitchen window and spilled into the shared hallway of the apartment building. For men used to MREs and takeout, it was practically siren song.

Gaz was the first to notice, lingering just outside the door labeled 4B- your door- with an almost predatory focus. He wasn’t proud of it, but his stomach growled so loud that Soap- rounding the corner with a gym bag slung over his shoulder- laughed outright.

“You stalking the neighbor again?”

“Shut up. You smell that?”

Soap inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat before snapping open.

“Jesus wept- what is that?!”

“I don’t know, but I’m this close to knocking.” Kyle held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

“She already fed us last week, mate. Dinna push it.”

“But what if she’s testing another recipe?”

Gaz wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of showing up at their door with dishes too good to refuse.

They hadn’t stood a chance.

After the cookies and the lasagna, it wasn’t long before other dishes followed: casseroles, soups, pies, and even homemade bread. And the worst part? You bow always prefaced it by saying you needed an opinion- like they were doing you the favor.

It wasn’t until Price called you a “bloody saint” over a pan of enchiladas that Ghost finally put it together.

“You’re using us as taste testers,” he’d said flatly.

You’d grinned- too cute and too smug for your own good. “Is that a problem?”

Not a single one of them had said no, just as stated before.

Which led them here, hovering outside your door and pretending they weren’t waiting for another offering.

“… Fine.” Soap muttered, raising his hand to knock.

But the door swung open before he could, and there you were- apron on, hair pulled back, and flour dusted across your cheek.

“Hi!” You chirped, eyes bright. “Perfect timing!”

Gaz’s grin was pure relief. “Tell me you need opinions. Please, love.”

You laughed, stepping aside to let them in. “I always need opinions. Come in!”

Inside, the kitchen was chaos. Cutting boards and mixing bowls were scattered across the counters. A Dutch oven bubbled on the stove, releasing clouds of savory steam. Plates of food- half-assembled sandwiches, stuffed peppers, and what looked like chocolate tarts- sat waiting.

“I… might’ve gone overboard.” You admitted, and if you hadn’t spent all day in the kitchen, your cheeks would’ve gone warmer.

Soap whistled low, eyes raking over every dish. “Not complainin’.”

Price arrived just then, texted by Kyle, trailed closely by Simon, who took one look at the spread and froze. His eyes swept from the roasted chicken resting under a blanket of fresh herbs to the still-warm biscuits stacked beside a bowl of honey butter.

“What’s the occasion?” John asked, smile amused, but you just waved him off.

“Practicing.”

Gaz was already halfway to the table, trying to decide what to start with, but Simon lingered, watching you carefully. He had his balaclava on, though you haven’t yet dared to ask why he wears it.

“Practicing for what, exactly?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your apron. “There’s this… thing next week. A community bake-off. And I thought it might be fun to enter.”

Soap arched a brow. “You’re entering this in a bake-off?”

“Well, not all of it. I’m still deciding which dishes to use.”

“You’re winning.” Kyle said immediately, filling his plate.

“Definitely.” Johnny added, already reaching for a sandwich.

Simon, still lingering, crossed his arms and stared down at you. His height will never, ever not make your breath hitch. “You’re testing all of this on us?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, pouting just a little. “You don’t mind, do you, Simon?”

His gaze darkened- not in anger, but something softer, heavier. It made your stomach flip.

“No,” he said simply. “We don’t mind.”

You swallowed and turned quickly to the oven to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks.

The next hour passed in a blur of taste testing, arguments over which dish was best, and repeated assurances that you were going to “blow the competition out of the water.” But beneath the laughter and teasing, you failed to catch the way they looked at you- how Price lingered by the stove just to steal extra bites, or how Johnny kept offering to help, hovering close enough that you brushed elbows more than once.

And Simon? He was the worst of all. He didn’t say much, but his eyes tracked your every move, following the way your hands worked the dough or wiped flour off the counter. He was the last to leave, hanging back as the others helped clear plates.

“You’re serious about this bake-off?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Thought it might be fun.”

“You don’t need it.”

“… What?”

He gestured at the now-empty plates. “To prove anything, I mean. You’re already…” He trailed off for a few seconds, and though you were left blinking at him, you didn’t rush him. “Good enough.” he murmured at last.

The compliment hit harder than you expected, and for once, you didn’t have a clever response.

“Thank you, Simon. That… means a lot to me.” you said softly.

And just like that, the others reappeared, breaking the moment. Johnny patted Simon’s shoulder with a knowing smirk, and Kyle slung an arm around your shoulders, while Price merely watched. Your kitchen was now spotless, cleaned by them.

“When’s the next test run?” Gaz asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, let us know. We’re free anytime.”

“Yeah,” Soap added. “Anytime.”

You laughed but this time, you didn’t miss the way Price was looking at you- thoughtful, like he’d already made up his mind about something.

The door clicked shut behind them after that, leaving your apartment quieter but no less warm. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs still lingered, and you found yourself smiling as you surveyed the spotless kitchen. They’d made quick work of the mess, trading jokes and lighthearted jabs as they wiped down counters and stacked dishes in quite the uniform style.

You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve neighbors like them, but you weren’t about to question it.

You caught yourself humming as you tucked away the last plate, the sound of their laughter still echoing faintly in your ears. It was easy with them- comfortable in a way that felt rare and almost too good to be true.

And maybe it was.

Because what you didn’t know- what you would probably never know, such a sweet and trusting thing- was that your apartment had been wired within days of your first visit to their door.

To them, it had started with a conversation.

“She’s alone,” Price had said after the second time you’d brought them food, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative frown. “No sign of anyone else coming or going.”

“Security’s shite.” Gaz had added, gesturing vaguely toward the shared hallway where your lock barely functioned half the time.

Soap had shrugged, easygoing as ever, but his eyes had been sharp. “Better us keep an eye on her than let some arsehole get the chance.”

And that was that.

Price had ordered the equipment, Ghost had handled the installation, and none of them had lost sleep over it. Not when it meant keeping you safe.

It wasn’t just the cameras, either.

Simon had reinforced your locks under the guise of “fixing” them after you mentioned a struggle with your key. Johnny had talked you into letting him check your windows “just to be sure they latched properly.” Gaz had set up an app on your phone to “monitor deliveries,” though it also let them track your location if needed.

And Price? He always lingered at the door just long enough to ask if you needed anything else- subtle, but enough to make sure you knew they were there.

You never questioned it. Never noticed the way they moved like a unit around you, anticipating problems before they could arise. Never caught the glances they exchanged when you mentioned a repairman or the way Simon hovered near the window any time a car idled too long outside.

You just kept feeding them, trusting them in ways that only made their resolve deepen.

Price was the worst.

He’d leaned against the counter tonight, watching you laugh at Johnny’s jokes and swat at Kyle when he tried to sneak extra bites, and the thought had hit him harder than he expected, while Simon watched on in amusement and was the only to successfully swipe a few more bites.

They could’ve had this already.

If life had gone differently- if timing had been better- you could’ve been his. Theirs. Someone to come home to instead of just someone they visited between deployments.

He hadn’t said anything, of course. None of them had.

But as they left, he’d lingered in the doorway, letting his hand rest lightly against the frame.

“Don’t let ‘em eat it all before the bake-off,” he’d teased, lips curling into a smile. “They’ll start begging if you do.”

You’d laughed, and God, it was dangerous how much he liked the sound.

“I’ll make sure to keep them in line.”

His smile softened. “Good girl.”

You didn’t notice the way Simon shot him a sharp look at that- or the way Johnny and Kyle exchanged knowing grins.

And later, when Price sat down in front of the monitors to check the feeds, he didn’t let himself feel guilty.

Because you were safe.

And as far as they were concerned, that was all that mattered.

[scorpiosbite]

the first time drew saw actress!reader.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── when drew was forced by madelyn to come watch this new show with her and the rest of the cast he didn’t expect to have his heart captured by the mesmerising woman on the screen.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 which is when game of thrones started airing in my timeline also actress!reader is anywhere between 19-22 years old.

drew was sprawled across the couch in his hotel room, aimlessly scrolling. after a long day of filming under the hot and heavy sun of morocco, he had no intention of doing anything that required effort. his plan was to simply scroll until his eyes got heavy and he knocked out, but knowing his insomnia that wouldn’t be until the early hours of the morning.

glancing at the time displayed on his phone ten pm it read, he let out a heavy sigh, though his body ached with exhaustion, his mind would not shut off. but before he could put down his phone and try to force himself to sleep, a knock sounded on the door “yeah?”

“drew! its maddie.”

“maddie?” he spoke softly, what’s she doing up at this time. usually she was asleep the moment she got back to the hotel. “come in, its open.”

she came tumbling through the door, coming to a stop in front of the couch where he laid. drew couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her. “what’s up?”

“drew! you gotta come watch this new show with us!” her hands were placed on her hips as she looked down at him.

drew sighed, a noise of exhaustion. “i can’t be fucked getting up, cline.” her face scrunched up, ready to dispute him.

“drew you have to! the last episode of season one just came out and i watched the first episode when it aired and it was so good that i stopped watching so that we could binge it all when the season finished!”

recognition sparked on his face. “wait is this game of thrones? i remember you saying how good the first episode was, like two months ago.”

madelyn’s face grew excited at the fact that he remembered. “yeah! please please, you have to come watch it, jd, bailey, chase, laci, rudy and austin are already in my room waiting.”

drew mulled over the idea for a moment. either he could rot in his room until his call time tomorrow or hang out with his friends and possibly watch a good show, if maddie’s high praise was anything to go by.

“yeah, alright let’s go.” he stood up from the couch, stretching his arms and grabbing his phone to follow maddie, who was already halfway out the door, unable to wait any longer.

when they arrived at her room, the first episode was already lined up on the screen, the hbo logo blaring in the dark room. drew greeted everyone and then took a seat on the spare love seat by the window. “you guys get forced too?” he questioned.

“yup.” jd breathed out. “nah i’ve been wanting to watch this, i remember hearing about it when they started filming, it’s supposed to be like super graphic and vulgar.” madison commented. “shit, really? i know nothing about this show, other than the fact that cline can’t shut up about it.” austin added. chuckles sounded across the room, and madelyn yelled from the kitchen where the popcorn she was making turned in the microwave. “y’all are about to thank me!”

drew simply sat in silence, with the amount maddie was praising this show, his skepticism grew, no way this show was that good. someone pressed play as soon as madelyn was seated, he didn’t see who. the intro song of the show blasted through the room and drew settled back into his seat.

“yo, pass me the popcorn?” chase rolled up the bag and chucked it across the room from where he was sat, drew caught it with ease.

he couldn’t lie, the show was good, fifteen minutes in and he was hooked. and just when he thought that it couldn’t get better, you came on the screen.

“holy fuck who is that?” jd’s voice rang out, but drew felt as though his voice came from somewhere far away. he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. “she’s beautiful right?” madelyn sighed out. mummers of agreement sounded from the people sitting in the room. “her name’s y/n y/l/n.”

“y/n” drew repeated to himself softly, almost as he was testing the feel of your name in his mouth. rolling the syllables on his tongue, in that moment he decided that no other word would ever compare to the way your name felt on his lips.

dressed in a flowing dress with daring cuts exposing your seemingly soft skin, he wondered what would it feel like if he ran his palms along the smooth expansion. your hair sliver, long and loose to play visenya targaryen, the last targaryen, the daughter of rhaegar targaryen and elia martell. drew felt as though no one had ever looked more stunning in the history of the world.

“drew? you all good man?” someone asked, he didn’t know who, he couldn’t hear or think of anything beyond you and the performance you were giving. “i think starkey’s got a crush.” rudy sang out, and the rest laughed. but drew couldn’t care less, too busy watching you.

they watched two more episodes and as the third episode came to an end drew finally broke out of his trance. while the rest occasionally made comments during the show drew could not tear himself away from the screen, afraid that if he looked away he would miss you.

“i gotta hand it to you, cline, i’m hooked. that shit was amazing!” carlacia grinned. “i fucking told you guys!” she retorted back. “but aside from that, starkey? what did you think?” she smirked at him.

“yeah, that was good.” drew’s body tingling “that’s it? just good? you don’t wanna talk about the moon eyes you were making every time visenya came on screen?” drew cheeks tinged pink. “yeah, she’s pretty.” “aye, shot your shot man, she’s so fine.” madison teased.

as drew made his way back to his room he looked at the time, two am, damn he didn’t even realise time had passed that quick. sliding into his bed after taking a quick shower, he couldn’t help himself but run a quick search of you on google. “fuck.” the soft curse slipping from his lips, just when he thought you couldn’t get hotter, he saw pictures of you, not in costume, naturally a brunette, he was so fucked. fuck it, he quickly searched up your name on instagram.

you were laying in bed scrolling through instagram when a notification popped up.

drewstarkey started following you. follow back?

first one, do you like it? if you do i’ll keep writing. reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated.

[foldingfittedsheets]

My paternal grandmother was a librarian. I only got to see that set of grandparents once a year as they lived out of state. I fondly remember summers spent at their house watching That Darn Cat and The King and I on loop, hunting for water skippers in the back creek, and reading the entirety of the Peanuts comics.

Because my grandma was a librarian she was delighted to foster my love of reading. We made trips to the library every week. One summer when I was seven or so I got really into this kids series about princesses all named after gemstones, each had a unique magic power.

At the end of each book was a puzzle or some extra bit of lore to decode. All of them were easily copied down in some way. Until I got to Sapphire’s book. At the end of the story Princess Sapphire was in peril! She needed a hero to come save her from a terrible fate. And there, on the last page, was a decoder device. It needed to be cut out and assembled.

I had to help save the Princess!!! In the iron grip of a fever of imagination I immediately found scissors and started carefully cutting the page. The page warned only to use scissors with an adult present and I scoffed to think I needed supervision just for scissors! I was a hero!Her plight called to me from the pages, imaginings of how I would daringly rescue the beautiful sweet Princess Sapphire ran through my little brain-

And about halfway up the page toward my goal I froze. This was a library book. I couldn’t cut a library book! What was I doing?! Even now in my memory it stands as a glaring example of the first time I mastered impulse control. Tragically, too late.

I was distraught. My grandma had a sacred duty to books and I, villain that I was, had defiled a precious tome! I wallowed for some time in abject misery, experiencing the greatest amount of guilt my tiny body had ever previously held. I’d probably go to jail. For a crime as monumental as wielding scissors against a book I wouldn’t even get dessert in jail.

Gradually, I processed my way through the grief of my vile deeds. I couldn’t have the decoder, I slowly accepted. That might be punishment enough. And I had only cut the page halfway. So it was only half a crime... It wasn’t illegal to lie when you’d aborted an evil act, right?

I didn’t know but I didn’t want to face my grandma’s potential wrath. I have no memory of my grandma ever yelling at me. I waited until the next day to approach her.

“Grandma? I finished my book and when I got to the end I saw someone had cut the page! They probably wanted the decoder because I also want that but it was very bad to cut a book, wasn’t it?”

My grandma regarded me benignly. She carefully took the book to observe it and nodded. “It’s good to see that they stopped before they cut it all the way out. Let’s go tape this together, and then I can photocopy the page and we can make you a decoder.”

I was ecstatic. Rewarded for my honesty! I created and cracked codes for the rest of summer with the flimsy paper creation we’d made. I genuinely doubt my grandma believed that I wasn’t the perpetrator, but I loved that she acknowledged that the person responsible stopped.

[luv-lock]

... # ☆ SUNSHINE .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ⠀

☆⁠ 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : Robin Jason Todd x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯).

☆⁠ NOTES : 𝘛𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Jason first noticed you during an English Lit discussion when you were debating the themes in Wuthering Heights. Most of the class was half-asleep, but you were animated, speaking with such passion that Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away. He didn’t even care about Heathcliff or Catherine, but if you were this invested, then he’d read the whole damn book twice just to have something to talk to you about. At first, he kept his distance, watching you from afar. You were too kind, too radiant, too good for someone like him. But Jason wasn’t known for his self-restraint. The more he watched you, the more he realized he couldn’t stay away.

Jason started sitting closer to you in class. He’d lean back in his chair, tapping his pen against his desk, waiting for the perfect moment to chime in when you spoke. He wanted your attention, even if it was just a quick glance his way. When you’d drop your pen, Jason would be the first to pick it up, handing it back with a lopsided grin. “Gotta be more careful, sunshine.” The nickname stuck, much to his delight. He quickly learned your schedule. Not in a creepy way (he tells himself), but because he just happened to notice you always stopped by your locker before lunch. He’d time it so he was walking by at the same moment, giving him an excuse to strike up a conversation. Jason’s protective instincts kicked in almost immediately. If anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, Jason was there, glaring at them until they backed off. He didn’t care if it was some senior jock twice his size—no one messed with you.

One day, you stayed late at school to finish a group project, and Jason nearly lost his mind when he saw you walking home alone after dark. He followed you in the shadows, making sure you got home safely. The next morning, he casually handed you a pocket-sized pepper spray. “For emergencies,” he said, trying to play it cool. He started leaving little things in your locker. A book you mentioned wanting to read, your favorite candy, or a handwritten note that simply said, "Don’t forget to smile today, sunshine."

Jason had a habit of “accidentally” showing up at places he knew you’d be. Whether it was the library, the coffee shop down the street, or even the park where you liked to read, Jason was always “just passing by.” He’d flash you a sheepish grin and sit down, secretly thrilled at the chance to spend more time with you. He hated seeing you talk to other guys, especially when they made you laugh. Jason knew he didn’t have the polished charm of some of the rich kids at Gotham High, but he cared about you in a way no one else could. He’d clench his fists and bite his tongue, reminding himself that you deserved someone better—someone who wouldn’t scare you away with how much they needed you. But then you’d turn to him, smiling so sweetly, and Jason would forget everything else. He’d do anything to keep that smile on your face.

One evening, you stayed late at school again, and this time, someone actually tried to mess with you. Jason, of course, had been waiting nearby, as he always did when you stayed late. He didn’t hesitate to step in, taking down the guy with practiced ease. “Jason?!” you gasped when you saw him. He froze, realizing you’d caught him. “You—you were following me?” you asked, a mix of confusion and something softer in your voice. Jason rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping away. “I just... wanted to make sure you were safe,” he muttered. “You don’t know how dangerous this city is. I couldn’t—I can’t let anything happen to you.” Instead of being scared, you surprised him by throwing your arms around him. “Thank you, Jason,” you whispered, and he swore his heart stopped.

From that day on, Jason was even more protective of you. He’d walk you home without an excuse, carry your books without asking, and sit with you at lunch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jason wasn’t the type to ask for permission, not when it came to you. He’d always been bold in everything he did—whether it was picking a fight with someone twice his size or throwing himself into danger without a second thought. But when it came to you, he hesitated. How could he ask you out without coming off as desperate? Without you realizing just how much space you occupied in his mind, how your laugh replayed in his head on a loop every night, and how he couldn’t sleep unless he knew you were safe?

It started like any other day. Jason was walking you to class, his bag slung carelessly over his shoulder as he matched your pace. His usual smirk was in place, but inside, his mind was racing. He’d practiced the words over and over in his head. Just ask her. It’s not a big deal. She likes you, right? She has to. You didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil, chatting about your favorite movie and how you’d been wanting to watch it again. Jason latched onto that.

“Hey, uh... you doing anything this weekend?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his usual cockiness slipping into nervousness. You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Not really. Why?” “Well, I was thinking... maybe we could catch that movie you like? Or, you know, grab some food after. Just us.” Your eyebrows shot up. “Jason Todd, are you asking me out?” His ears turned red. “Maybe. Depends on your answer.” You laughed—a sweet, melodious sound that made his chest tighten. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, you know that?” Jason huffed, trying to regain his composure. “So, is that a yes, or...?” “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, nudging his shoulder playfully. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, you know.”

Jason was a bundle of nerves the entire day leading up to your date. He didn’t want to mess this up—not with you. He even went so far as to ask Alfred (secretly, of course) for advice, which earned him a lecture about being respectful and treating you like a lady. When he picked you up that evening, Jason was... different. He’d ditched his usual leather jacket for a nicer shirt, and his hands were tucked nervously into his pockets. But the moment he saw you step out of your house, his nerves vanished. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look... amazing.” You smiled, blushing slightly. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Todd.” He couldn’t stop grinning as he walked you to his bike. “Hold on tight, sunshine,” he teased as he handed you a helmet. “I’ve got you.”

Jason surprised you by actually being a perfect gentleman. He took you to your favorite little diner, the one you’d mentioned in passing weeks ago. He remembered everything you liked—the exact way you liked your burger, your favorite drink, even the little details about how you always added extra ketchup. During the movie, he couldn’t focus on the screen. Not when you were sitting so close, your shoulder brushing his. He was hyper-aware of every little movement you made—the way you laughed at the funny scenes, the way your eyes lit up during your favorite parts. And when you leaned your head against his shoulder halfway through, Jason thought he might actually die from happiness.

As the weeks went on, you started noticing things about Jason. How he always seemed to know where you were, how he’d intercept anyone who tried to bother you before they even got close, how he’d show up with your favorite snacks when you didn’t mention being hungry. It didn’t take long to piece it together. One evening, as you both sat on a rooftop (because Jason insisted the city looked better from up high), you decided to bring it up. “Jason,” you started, looking at him with a soft smile, “you’re really... protective, you know that?” He stiffened. “Is that... bad?” You shook your head, resting your hand on his arm. “No. It’s sweet. I know you just want to keep me safe.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re the best thing in my life, and the thought of anything happening to you—” “Jason,” you interrupted, squeezing his arm, “you don’t have to worry so much. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with a vulnerability you didn’t expect. “You mean that?” You nodded. “I like having you around. Even if you’re a little... intense sometimes.” His lips twitched into a grin. “You think I’m intense now? You should see what I’d do if anyone actually hurt you.” You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think I’ll take your word for it.” Jason wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. In that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you happy and safe. You were his sunshine, his everything. And now that he had you, he wasn’t letting go. Not ever.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[alaia777]

jacked and kind?

ೃ༄ barou;

you giggled while you set your phone on the drawer in your room, you don’t know how you managed to convince your boyfriend to do this trend with you, but you did.

“alright, all you just have to do is pick me up and put me on your shoulder.”

“whatever.”

a boy who’s jacked and kind. can’t find his ass to save my life.

suddenly, you’re lifted off the ground and put on his shoulder. you start to laugh, not because of the situation, but because he’s flexing his muscles in front of the camera. you put your hands on his hair and tug a little. “you’re so corny. stop flexing, who are you trying to impress?”

the next second, you’re thrown onto the bed, and he’s leaving the room, mumbling something about how a king never tries to impress anyone.

ೃ༄ bachira;

“pleaseeeee. i promise i won’t drop you.”

“bachira, no. you’re 5’9. i know for sure you’re going to drop me.”

your boyfriend was trying to convince you to do this tiktok trend he saw. you trusted him, but the last time you tried one of his ideas, you found out he’d been using your toothbrush. you didn’t speak to him for days after that.

“i’m going to stay in front of the bed so, in case something happens, you’ll fall on something soft.”

you sigh, already regretting this, and move in front of him so he can do this stupid thing.

a boy who’s jacked and kind. can’t find his ass to save my life.

you feel his hands grab your hips as he slowly lifts you onto his shoulder. you cling to him tightly, silently promising that if you’re going down, he’s coming with you. when you catch his reflection in his phone, you can’t help but smile—his expression is so adorable, so focused.

until you feel him slowly backing away.

you squint in confusion as you see him shift his weight.

“what are y—”

before you can finish your sentence, you realize exactly what he’s about to do.

ೃ༄ shidou;

you watch as your boyfriend struggles to prop his phone up, grumbling under his breath. “stupid piece of—”

“no cursing, ryusei.”

he mumbles something about not telling him what to do, and honestly, you’d snap back at him, but considering he just woke you up to do some random trend he saw on his phone, you let it slide.

“alright, stop making faces and look at the camera.”

a boy who’s jacked and kind. can’t find his ass to save my life.

before you have time to process that thought, he hoists you up onto his shoulder like you weigh nothing. grinning like an idiot, he spins around, showing off different angles to the camera.

when the video finally ends, you wait for him to put you down. but, of course, he has other plans.

“ryusei, what are you doing now?”

he strides toward the kitchen, still carrying you effortlessly. “you’re going to watch me make a sandwich. ratatouille style.”

ೃ༄ rin;

“this is stupid.”

“you are stupid. shut up and do what i just told you.”

rin couldn’t believe he agreed to do some brainless trend like this. one second, he was watching a football match on tv, and the next, he was standing in front of your phone’s camera, looking unimpressed.

“what if i decide to just drop you?”

“then you’ll be sleeping outside in your car.”

a boy who’s jacked and kind. can’t find his ass to save my life.

for a moment, he didn’t move at all, like he was genuinely refusing to take part in your trend. but just as you turned around to give him a piece of your mind, he scooped you off the ground and threw you over his shoulder. he was so stiff you almost felt bad for making him do it, but when the video ended, he surprised you—his hand gently caressed your knee, and he leaned into you.

“don’t post it.”

ೃ༄ isagi;

you were laughing so hard your sides were hurting. isagi looked like he was on the verge of tears, all because, during this trend, you accidentally hit him in the crotch with your sole, making him lose his balance.

“stop laughing, i could’ve hurt you.”

“isagi, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to.”

“you know, this apology would’ve been better if you weren’t laughing like that.”

you wanted to go and hug him, but he seemed more focused on restarting the video. it was clear he really wanted to get this one right.

a boy who’s jacked and kind. can’t find his ass to save my life.

you sat up straight, waiting for him to pick you up again. and that’s exactly what he did. this time, he made sure your legs were far from his crotch as he lifted you onto his shoulder. when the video ended, he gently lowered you into his arms, holding you close and murmuring how much he appreciated you.

ೃ༄ i hope you guys like this one :’)

ೃ༄ also, my requests are open so please let me know if you guys have any suggestions !

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?” 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful spinning, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shake through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I liked the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t had run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, liked when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always liked you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your lips isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly caresses up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and caress his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer. 

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

[starryjake]

thinking about toxic situationship!heeseung :(

you’re by far his favorite out of all the girls he fucks but he’s too cocky to let you know that. in the back of your mind, though, you know. you can’t imagine that he takes his other girls out for late night ramen or lets them sit on his lap and watch him play video games.

you can’t imagine he’s as gentle and sweet during aftercare with anyone else. in fact, you really hope he isn’t. you hope he kicks out all the other girls he sleeps with as soon as he’s done with them. you hope that he doesn’t let them spend the night like he does with you, even going as far as to make you breakfast or take you out the next day.

every time he’s with another girl, he can’t stop thinking about fucking annoying they are and can’t help himself from comparing them to you. he knows you would be so much better: better at sucking his dick, better at riding him, just your pussy in general was better.

he’d text you when he was hanging out with other girls, not even waiting for them to leave the room but doing it right next to them. he didn’t care if they could see, even when he was texting you about how bad they were and how he wished he were with you instead.

heeseung: this blows

y/n: whys that?

heeseung: bc she isn’t you baby

y/n: you could always leave and come over :)

heeseung: aww my girl wants me to ditch this chick and come fuck her instead? is that what you want, little princess?

y/n: fuck hee…please :(

he could not say no to you. 10 minutes later and he’s ditched the random girl he was with and was instead pounding you into your mattress, grunting loudly as you clenched around him.

“fuck yeah, baby,” he moaned, hips drilling into you. “you’re such a good girl. so much fucking better than anyone else.”

and you took it so well, eating up every last word.

he also loved that you didn’t talk to any other guys. you just wanted him and only him so, so badly, and maybe if he did relationships, he would choose you to be his girlfriend. but, he didn’t date and he made sure you were aware of that from the start your situationship. but the point was, he loved that you were still loyal to him, not even wanting to talk to another guy because they just weren’t heeseung. no one did it like him.

no one ate you out until you were squirting everywhere and shaking like he did. no one fucked you until your eyes were rolling into the back of your head and drooling onto his sheets like he did. no one made you feel like passing out from intense pleasure like heeseung.

you liked him. you were probably in love with him. you hated knowing he saw other girls and he loved knowing it made you upset. he loved knowing that you liked him enough to get so jealous of other girls.

again, he would never tell you that he couldn’t give less of a shit about the other girls. in fact, he would purposely use them just to make you jealous, fucking them for the sole reason of knowing you would hate it. your jealousy was what got him off because it showed that you cared about him, that you wanted him all to yourself.

he thought about you every time he thrusted his cock inside another girl’s pussy. he thought about how much tighter you were than them. how much warmer, wetter, and more delicious you were.

heeseung liked you a lot too. he was also probably in love with you and he realized that when he was finishing on the tits of someone else and moaned out your name instead of theirs.

-

like sorry i just needed to get this off my chest bc heeseung is FUCKING WITH ME TODAY!!

anyway how are y’all? :3

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader shoot an intense scene

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based on this ask. for the sake of the story, actress!reader’s character’s name is caroline <3

The day had finally come. The day the two of them had been dreading for months: it was finally time to shoot Caroline’s death. It wasn’t like she wasn’t expecting it, having known that this season would be her last for a while, but the finality of actually shooting it was beginning to weigh on her as they finished wrapping her abdomen with the faux blood packs.

“Alright, you’re all set.” The assistant said, patting y/n’s shoulder before reaching into a bag and handing her Rafe’s mother’s ring. Y/n put it into her pocket, Rafe having grabbed it while the two of them had torn through Tanneyhill grabbing anything of value before they made their departure. Rafe and Caroline were hoping to escape Kildare with the gold they had acquired, some former business partner of Ward’s hot on their tail and hoping to get the gold that was “rightfully his”... and revenge.

They were set up to shoot on a dock, the sun setting behind the numerous boats that floated in the bay. Drew leaned against the railing, chatting with one of the actors who would be playing their adversaries in the following scene. He looked good on the outside, his usual stoic demeanor presenting itself as he waited for shooting to begin, but y/n could tell by the way he kept running his hands along his jaw and fiddling with the hem of his shirt that he was nervous.

“Okay, places please!” One of the directors shouted as y/n made her way towards where Drew stood on the dock. He straightened, flashing a small smile at her.

“Love you.” Drew whispered, kissing the top of y/n’s head quickly before getting into his position.

“Love you.” Y/n said quietly, taking her mark next to him, grabbing his hand.

“And… action!” The director shouted. At his signal, Drew stalked down the dock, looking around sporadically as he drug y/n behind him.

“C’mon, we’re almost there.” Drew said gruffly, sparing a glance behind them as they neared the spot where their boat was parked. Drew dropped into the boat, his grip on y/n’s hand loosening just enough so that when she was suddenly yanked backwards, he couldn’t stop it. Y/n let out a shriek, flailing in the arms of her attacker until she suddenly saw a glint of metal nearing her throat. Drew’s eyes widened as he clamored back onto the dock, his breathing ragged.

“Where did you think you were going, Cameron?” The attacker pressed the blade against Y/n’s neck harder, causing her to let out a cry.

“Let go of her, Grant! This is between you and me.” Drew shouted, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Caroline’s attacker, Grant, chuckled darkly. Tears began to stream down y/n’s cheeks as she struggled against Grant’s grip.

“Just give me what I deserve and you can have her… that is, if you think she’s worth it.” Grant hissed, his hands clawing at y/n’s stomach.

“It’s all on the boat, take it! Just let her go—” Drew began to dig into his pocket for the key to Rafe’s boat.

“Hey!” Grant shouted at him, the blade digging into y/n’s skin even deeper. “Slowly! And you better not be messing around with me Cameron or I swear the girl’s dead!”

Y/n let out a whimper, Drew swallowing harshly as he slowly dipped his trembling hands into his pocket. He took the key out before tossing it down on the dock a few feet away from them before raising his hands. Grant snarled, removing the knife from y/n’s throat before shoving her forward into Drew’s arms. Y/n collapsed into him, Drew pulling her against his chest tightly.

“I got you, I got you.” Drew said into the crook of y/n’s neck, holding her shaking body.

“See, Cameron, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Grant chuckled, spinning the keys on his fingers as he paced forwards. Drew held y/n against him impossibly tighter, his eyes meeting Grant over y/n’s shoulder.

“You got what you wanted, go.” Drew snarled, y/n still crying against his body.

“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong…” Grant said lowly. “There’s still one more thing that I want.”

Grant gestured to his ring finger with the blade of his knife, a devilish grin spreading across his face. Drew swallowed harshly, glancing down at the gold Cameron ring that adorned his thumb, one of Rafe’s most prized possessions and the definitive mark of his connection to his father. With a deep breath, Drew looked at y/n once more before twisting the ring off of his finger and offering it out. Grant came forward, his grin still wide as he reached for the ring.

“I want revenge.” Grant sneered, stepping forward slicing his knife at Drew. Y/n screamed as Drew reached out, grabbing Grant’s forearm before slamming his fist into his face. Grant stumbled backwards, Drew punching him again as the two grappled over the knife. Drew finally pried the knife from his grip, sending it clattering onto the dock, before sending Grant into the water with a shove, his head hitting the boat with a harsh crack. Drew grabbed for the knife, his eyes watching as Grant sunk into the bay.

“Rafe.” Y/n said quietly, tearing Drew’s grip away from the water. Y/n stood in front of him, grasping her stomach tightly as blood seeped through her shirt. Drew inhaled sharply, looking down at the knife in his grasp… and the blade covered in blood.

“No, no, no, no.” Drew dropped the blade, running over to y/n as she fell to her knees, her breathing strained. Drew grabbed y/n, watching as the blood continued to seep from the gaping wound on her front.

“Rafe… Rafe.” Y/n said with a gasp, her mouth filled with blood. Drew’s hands shook as he brushed the hair from her face, his lips trembling as she peered up at him.

“Hey, you’re ok. You’re ok.” Drew choked out, his eyes welling with tears. “I’m gonna get help, you’re going to be ok, a’ight? You’re going to be ok.”

Y/n chuckled, wincing at the pain as Drew fumbled for his phone. Drew swore, both Rafe and Caroline having left their phones to avoid any possible sort of detection, his head whipping around quickly as he screamed for help.

“Here.” Y/n whispered, her breath labored as she offered one of her hands out. In her blood soaked palm sat Rafe’s mother’s ring, glittering in the moonlight. Drew’s eyes widened, the site in front of him causing his stomach to churn as y/n’s eyes fluttered weakly.

“Hey, hey, you’re going to be ok, you’re going to be ok.” Drew closed y/n’s hand around the ring… the ring Rafe had always hoped to give to Caroline one day. Drew’s body shook as he screamed desperately, sobs raking through his body.

“I love you, Rafe.” Y/n whispered, a small smile spreading across her lips as Caroline let out a soft, final breath. Drew froze for a second, his eyes darting across y/n’s limp body.

“No! No! No!” Drew screamed, shaking y/n’s shoulders.

“I love you, I love you, please— no!” Drew sobbed, his head hanging down in front of him…

“Cut!” The director shouted, cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Great job, guys!”

Y/n eyes fluttered open, looking up at Drew above her. Despite the end of the scene, however, Drew was still holding onto her tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Drew, hey, it’s over.” Y/n straightened, moving to rest her faux blood soaked hand against the side of Drew’s face. He let out a ragged breath, pulling her into his chest as he dug his face into her neck. Y/n could feel her heart break as she held onto him, the pain making her sick to her stomach.

“It’s ok, I’m ok.” Y/n whispered against jaw, her hands soothing down his back. Once they finally pulled away, Drew looked over y/n’s faux bloody body, his lip still trembling slightly. He hadn’t intended for any of this to happen, but when he saw her “dying” in his arms, it all became too much. Too scary. Too real.

“I love you.” Y/n said, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Fuck, I love you.” Drew wiped his cheek, pressing a kiss to y/n’s forehead before pulling her into his chest again. The two of them sat on the dock, embracing each other as they slowly came down from the emotional intensity of the scene, the death being fake, but the love between them very much real.