#sock bands are a lie!

[redwinelew]

KNEE SOCKS

type written fic (one shot)

pairing lewis hamilton x singer!reader

summary you released a song which exposes lewis' lack of attention toward you in your relationship and he isn't too pleased with it.

warnings 18+. smut. oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, vaginal sex, dirty talk, lewis being a little mean, english is not my first language, pls lmk what else i missed

author's note i have nothing to post rn and this has been sitting in my drafts so weeks so here you go. lmk if u guys enjoy this and if u want me to write more written fics.

lewis is a private man, he made that clear all throughout his life, since the first world championship trophy was handed to him, the moments everybody's eyes in the world started to set on him, following his every move, to this day. he doesn't like channeling his personal matters to the public. sure there are a lot of people who'd be interested to know, journalists who would sell their souls for an exclusive interview with him, but nothing can make him give up his peace anymore. he had his moments when he was younger. everything was open to interpretation for the media and fans. but as he gets older, things changed. private life should stay private.

you are a musician. and it's risky, dating a musician. he's seen it. he's been with one, and he is one. he thought he already knew, he thought he understood what he was getting himself back into. you are different from his ex. you make your own music, write your own songs, not afraid to be vulnerable through your art, never care however fans and media are going to interpret them. they'll never know the truth. it's none of their business anyway. he doesn't regret dating you, though. nothing could make him regret being with you. he wouldn't trade it even for his 8th championship.

but deep down, lewis knows this day will come. where a little inconvenience happens in your relationship was enough to set you off completely. the day where you stopped listening to the logical part of your brain and follow your heart instead. the day you pissed off enough to finally say fuck it.

in your defense, you were so caught up in your feelings. part of you also honestly didn't care. you are a singer, a musician, as much as he is. this is how you express yourself. he should have known that by now. if he didn't want the whole world to know how fucking busy he is with the race season to the point where he never spent time with you anymore, he should have pay more attention to you.

you would have argued with that if only you could form a single coherent sentence right now. but all you could say was—

"please...."

do not ask how long has this been going on. he could lie and say hours and you'll believe it. he could ask you to do anything and you'll obey. it's not like you have a choice. if it pleases him, if it will somehow get you the release you have been desperately craving, fucking hell, you'll do it. that's how it is right now. you, half naked on the bed. pants discarded somewhere on the carpeted bedroom floor. panties gone to fuck knows where. his old band t-shirt that you're wearing is pushed up, exposing your belly and almost your chest.

him? in between your legs. inked hands holding your thighs open for his tongue to explore your folds in every way he knows, drawing all kinds of sounds out of you, pushing you to the edge again and again but not quite giving you the release you've been desperately needing. not after what you said about him in the song, no.

a whine escapes your lips yet again when he pulls himself off of you just as you're about to reach another peak. he looks up, a smirk decorating his face as his tongue licks your arousal from his thick lips.

bastard.

"i didn't ask you to beg." he replies calmly, caressing your inner thigh all the way up to your knee, making you almost jerk up at the slightest of his touch.

of course he is calm. he's enjoying this. torturing you. driving you insane. god how you wish the tables are turn right now. how you wish that you have the energy to flip the two of you and get your revenge on him, showing him how it feels to be in your shoes. he'd be worse than you are right now. you can say that confidently because you've seen it. some rare moments where he handed over the control to you, letting you take charge in bed and do whatever you wanted to him. easiest way to say, he was a mess.

"you're not being fair—" was instead all you could say in such a pathetic tone that even you did not recognize yourself.

"i wasn't planning to be."

your pussy clenches around nothing at the casualness of his reply. your mind is pissed at him for ruining your orgasms but your body couldn't help but craving for his touch. you've seen the dominance side of him almost every night and yet the calmness that he's radiating right now even though you know how angry he is at you and your song is enough to send shivers down your spine.

there's something about lewis being angry and yet not completely showing it.

it turns you on even more.

"tell me what i want to hear first." he demands, his thick digits rubbing your bundle of nerves. your back arches into his touch. your eyelids flutter, broken moans fall from your lips.

the pleasure didn't last long. a soft, frustrated sigh leaves you as do his fingers from your clit. just when you were going to try catching your breath, he plunges two fingers inside without warning.

"fuck— oh my god—"

he hovers above you, eyes never leaving your face, watching your every reaction, the way your jaw hangs low. the thickness of his digits makes you feel so full already, you couldn't form neither words nor sounds.

"fuck, fuck—" and when he moves his fingers, you already saw heaven. the wet squelching sound from your arousal is so sinful it almost made you feel embarrassed at how wet you still are even after having your pleasure punished by him. your hand reaches up to his free arm near your head, clinging to him for support. your nails dig deep into his inked skin, drawing a silent hiss from him.

"come on," he says again. "tell me what i want to hear."

this might be it. he's fingering you with passion, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making your legs tremble. he never half-assed anything in his life, especially when it comes to your pleasure but something tells you that maybe this is when he thinks that you have had your lesson and it's time you give you that release. he just loves you that much. and you always get what you want.

"n-no." you stutter in defiance.

he smirks again. your denial only makes this more fun for him, which is apparent in the way his fingers move rougher and faster right now. and you notice how his other digits are avoiding your clit, making it a little harder for you to reach another peak.

"four orgasms denied and you still wanna be stubborn?"

only four? it felt like hundreds, you manage to think to yourself despite how hazy your mind feels right now.

"please...." you croak out, and that's how far you'll beg for his forgiveness.

but he's not satisfied. he pulls out his fingers, and you would have groaned if you could even speak right now.

"no...."

"don't worry, sweetie," he cuts you off surprisingly, sitting up straight again. you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he lines up the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing your folds slightly. you feel as if air has been knocked out of your lungs. you didn't even think that this was a possibility tonight, to be fucked by him. to feel his thick cock inside you. genuinely you thought he would leave you high and dry, though it's very unlikely for him. but still. he could truly be that cruel when he wants to.

"i'll make you come if that's what you wanted so badly. but only on my cock. and i'll make you come again and again until i finally get my apology."

you swallow thickly.

that is certainly a promise.

[nica-my-beloved]

Villains Reaction to Kate's Cringy Pick-up lines

William

Kate: "Ayy, are you a mosquito? Because I wanna smash the shit out of you."

William: *pauses in midst of drinking his tea and stares at her*

William: *takes exactly 10 seconds to process the meaning*

William: "Hahahahahaha!!!!" *almost drops his cup on the table*

Liam

Kate: "Life without you is like a broken pencil. Totally pointless."

Liam: "Really!!!? You too!? I feel the same way too!" *hugs her from behind*

Harry

Kate: "Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile."

Harrison: *blushes slightly*

Harrison: *coughs*

Harrison: "That ain't a lie, though."

Elbie

Kate: "Sorry, can you help me? I think something's wrong with my eyes. I can't take them off you."

Elbie: "Nothing is wrong with your eyes. They are great....they should be only looking at me..."

Alfons

Kate: "Excuse me, do you have a Band-Aid? I scraped my knee falling for you."

Alfons: "I can be your band-aid." *licks her 'scraped' knee*

Roger

Kate: "Did you just come out of the oven? Because you're hot."

Roger: "Hahaha...If the oven is yours, then yes."

Ellis

Kate: "I'm good at algebra; I can replace your X and you wouldn't need to figure out Y."

Ellis: *looks genuinely confused*

*Roger whispers to him the meaning*

Ellis: "Ohh...sorry Kate. I didn't get it at first. Let's try it one more time, I'll laugh for sure this time."

Jude

Kate: "Do you have the time? I want to remember the exact minute I fell for you----Ah!"

*trips Kate by putting his feet in her way*

Jude: "Oh princess? Did you scrap your knee falling for me?"

Victor

Kate: "If you were a chicken, you'd be absolutely impeccable."

Victor: "If you were a vegetable, you would be a cute-cumber!"

Kate: "Are you a time traveler? Because I see you in my future!"

Victor: "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?"

Victor: "If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?"

Victor: "If you and I were socks, we'd make a great pair!"

[yanderenightmare]

incel Shiggy roofying his big-titted cheerleader crush at a party!!! she’s sound asleep while he’s fucking her little cunny raaawwwww 😭😭😭pleeeeeeeeeez

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x f!darling

TW: yandere, noncon/dubcon, NSFW, incel, roofying, sex while darling's unconscious, somnophilia, Shiggy is very naughty in this, darling has big breasts

CHEERS

He’s coolheaded but nervous as hell, locking the door behind him quietly – eyes shifty, heart pounding, hands sweaty, pants heavy.

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the condom he’d been saving for you… but after turning around and seeing you lie there, oh-so-very still – soft body sound asleep on the bed - he thought it would be a waste and dropped the rubber on the floor instead. 

Swallowing thickly, his cock made a jump, perking up even more at the thought of fucking your unprepped little cunny raw – tip leaking pre just thinking about it – straining in an almost painful bulge against his clothes while his head burned with the vile thoughts of what he planned on doing to you.

He stepped out of his sneaks and nearly tripped shuffling off his cargos, slipping his fingers beneath the band to his boxers and sliding those down his thighs as well – his thickness springing free with an eager kick as he left it all in a heap on the floor before getting onto the bed.

His drugs had you knocked out good – so good, only a teensy soft croon escaped your parted lips as he clambered on top of you. 

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, staring down at your resting face – breaths short and heavy as he rubbed over his cockhead with his fingers, catching the sticky slick that had formed there before motioning the digits toward your mouth – stuffing them past your plump lips. He made sure to wipe the cum on your tongue – watching you moan with gleeful eyes as you unconsciously sucked the skin clean.

He shuddered at the sight, playing with the wet muscle with another fist wrapped tight around his shaft – breaths getting tighter – red eyes big while scanning your body, helplessly spread open under him. High gym socks squeezed into the chub of your midthighs while he hiked your short cheer skirt up around your tummy, leaving only a thin panty separating him from your smooth-shaven cunt.

He didn’t waste much time. Swallowing the drool pooling beneath his tongue while clammy hands reached out to grip the lace, clumsy in his haste when tugging it down your thighs and legs and off at your feet. He put the tiny article to his face and indulged in a shamelessly perverted sniff – feeling his abdomen roar in return.   

Eyes, steamy and dulled as more pearls pilled from his reddened tip when looking at your sweet little exposed slit. He wrapped his shaft with your panties and put his weeping cock-head right where he’d taken them off – in a soft kiss to those puffy pussylips – splitting them apart to smear his spillage over your clit and entrance – almost immediately beginning to push. 

“Come on- let me in.” He groaned, frustration already lacing his voice, turning it into something desperate – almost resembling a whine as he continued nudging against your taut opening, trying to press his plush bulging head inside with little kindness – except for a fat blob of spit he let drip off his tongue – landing in a splat right on your clit and slowly sliding down to where he tried to fit.

It wasn’t much, but it proved to be just enough – making you jerk with a tiny sound of discomfort as your hole finally gave and received the first inch. 

“There you go~” He choked out in relief, hands gripping the swell of your hips, eagerly glaring down at the lewd sight – where lubed with a mix of saliva and precum, he kept sinking inside the tight space one fat inch at a time. 

Your thighs strained at the intrusion, trying to wind shut to protect yourself even in your sleep – but it achieved little less than making Shiggy smile. 

He sighed in awe, offering a low and amused hum while effortlessly pushing them back in their place – his red eyes dazed, misty while looking at your little hole swallow him up, so tight and so tense at the stretch where his big cock bullied its way forth until he was all the way inside – balls-deep, nestled tight against your womb. 

“Touchdown~” He cheered in a drawl, mocking the way you squeal for football players after scoring, pumping your silly pompoms in the air with a high kick and bright smile – jumping up and down with pudgy tits bouncing in your tiny cheer outfit. 

He feared you would change out of the skimpy articles after the game. But lucky him, you hadn’t even showered. You were all ribboned pigtails and glitter makeup still, dewy and sweet-smelling from dried sweat and perfume. Dirty with greenery from the field and booze from the pep rally and soon to be made absolutely trashed and filthy with his spunk in your cunt.

He groaned, still remaining buried in all the way, liking how you snatched him tight, clinging to his length like a virgin – but soon pulled out. Rocking back from the deepest part of you, he watched you hang onto and writhe at every ridge and vein before his bulging head popped out with a wet shlick. 

You’d glossed him nicely with pussyjuice, made his cock warm and wet. 

He smiled, fingers pinching your hole open – watching it flutter from the absence of his meat – body sagging forward at the pretty sight as he got down low until his mouth was on your muff with dewy huffs – tongue sticking out and sliding through your slit with a breathy shudder.

Hands grabbed fistfuls of the chunk of your ass, pulling you snug around his face while he munched – sucking your bud into his mouth and in between his teeth – hearing you give the softest little moan in regard.

His heart drummed a rushed beat in his chest at your taste, so sweet and so naughty, driving him crazy – but he was going to take it nice and slow. He planned on having a good long time with you – wanted to leave traces of himself all along your body for you to find once waking up.

He got back up in position. No mind to bother wiping his chin except with his tongue out and gliding across his lips for any excess as he sunk back inside you with a content sigh. 

Even wetter after his lathering, you took him in with ease – accepting it only with a pretty moan.

His hands left the squeeze of your thighs and reached for the straps on your shoulders, pulling them down until your heavy breasts flopped out. They were fatty and firm little things – big handfuls of plush down, soft and honkable in his grip. 

He couldn’t count how many times he’d fisted his cock at the thought of sliding between them. “Mmh~ I’mma do that later- right now ’m gonna make these cheer titties bounce ‘n’ jump up and down for me~” He moaned in a frenzied giggle. “You’re gonna root for me as I drive a goal right into your teensy tiny hole~ give you a nice warm creampie to help you dream sweet~”

He placed one hand on each tit, pinching your sweet stiff nips between his thumb and index finger, and then he picked up the pace – cock driving in deep, ramming your cervix, lingering there in that plush warmth for a brief but full second, before swiftly pulling out – pounding you good and hard enough to elicit moans despite you still being out-cold.

Your cunt started to squelch, and he couldn't believe it – he think he might have just made you cum in your sleep – the way your hips softly lolled and gummy walls started milking him tight, fluttering around the size of him – lovingly enough to make him buckle over – his face panting against the pillow next to your head, drowning in it while your cunt cuddled him tight in your orgasm.

He made a pathetic sound, and soon he was spurting too – unable to hold back any longer – hips stuttering, dick deep while shooting rope after thick warm rope inside you – his mouth gaping against your cheek, grunting as he stormed your cunt to drive his cum in deeper. Emptying himself inside your heat for a good minute and fucking the leakage back into you for an even better minute, and then, just to keep his cock warm while his breath evened, he kept you propped for yet another one.

He sloshed his cock out after a while – still bone-hard and standing although numb post-nut, yet so sensitivehe made himself hiss when touching it. 

He lazed off of you, feet prickling against the cool floor as he rose up – looking at you and your poor sore cunt he’d just pounded into climax. You were still pulsing from it, hole spasming – drooling with his thick white load, spilling out and onto the sheets beneath.

“Bet that felt nice~” He grinned warmly, reaching a hand down to squish your lips apart as he bowed to lick the insides of your mouth with a hungry moan, tasting the sweet mix of your spit and the fruity drink he’d slipped the pills in earlier – before pulling back with a slurp and motioning his cock to your face. 

It was messy with slick and cream and cum, and just aching to get inside the sweet welcoming warmth of your mouth.

He bit his lip, sucking his teeth while playing with the blubber of your lips with the glossy tip of his cockhead – making you kiss it so sweetly. He nearly lost balance from the sight – fever pounding in his head, making sweat pill beneath his bangs, which now clung to his skin in wet meanders. His sounds wavered, feeling the pressure and pulse of arousal surging in his loins, heavy in his gut and burning with desperation in his length as he pushed into the softness of your mouth, sliding along the wet runway of your tongue and getting sucked down the choke of your tight little throat.

“Yes- yes- yess-” Poured from him in strings of drool he no longer had the mind to swallow. Cupping your cheek in his palm as he pumped in and out of your mouth – his jaw hanging open with unfiltered sounds, watching with awe how you suckled him clean and seemed to beg for a warm mouthful of his jizz.

He had to throw his head back so as not to lose his semblance, grabbing your tit as an additional anchor – feeling your soft tongue lick the spine and your pillowlips pucker on his girth – being such a sweet slut in your sleep – worshipping his cock like that.

He pulled and pinched your nipple, and you seemed to like it – moaning around his member with eyes closed in bliss like a little whore, gagging once he got a little too eager and fucked a little too deep. “Oh, it’s coming, little cheer-slut~ don’t worry your sleepy little head ~” He crooned, a hand tangled in your hair while fucking the pocket of your cheek in slow strokes – smiling at the cute sight of it bulging.

He found your undies again, raising them to his nose once more to breathe in the sweet, rich tones of your scent – sighing out in pleasure – but no, he couldn't cum yet. He still hadn't fucked your tits like he promised.

Leaving your mouth, he swung a leg over you and seated himself on your stomach. And pinned beneath him like that, it wouldn’t even have mattered if you’d suddenly woken up. But you didn’t stir – still lying there peacefully with a smile of slick on your face. He chuckled softly and bunched up your tits, pressing his spit-slicked rod between them – watching himself poke out the other end of your cleavage with a gleam in his eyes – mouth parting with a happy smile.

And they were so soft – plush like cotton and velvety smooth, taking his cock so good where he slid through them like butter. He groaned, gripping them tighter in his fists, giving them greedy squeezes as he plowed between them.

Swollen nipples he’d tugged one too many times were big and throbbing, making you whine and whimper small drowsy sounds as he kept on messaging them – pinched tight between his finger and thumb.

You made a greater sound once he pulled on them – mouth apart in a cry which immediately made the knot in his gut tug – balls clenching, wanting to capsize – the need for release strumming along his veins.

He leaned back on his calves, cock aimed up into the air, planning on showering you with the next batch. Fapping the long shaft in quick desperate jerks until he exploded for the second time – shooting it all over your tits and face.

Leaning forward again, breaths dramatic – he pumped and dumped the rest of the load out into your mouth. Carefully now, with lazy movement, he kept leisurely stroking his length like a pet – soothing and congratulating him on a good job as he watched his fine work. Splotches of creamy white splattered on your pretty skin, now melting down your curves and drying in place. 

It was a peaceful thing to watch… but his cock was hard and hungry still.

He looked at his watch, earning his smile. He had a lot more time left. 

The party downstairs was only barely getting started and would continue for several hours until morning. People always go crazy after winning a game – and for once, he was just as thrilled as everyone else.

Maybe next, he’d make a cumdump of your little cheer-butt too.

tip-jar: Kofi

[cellophanejpeg]

messy.

Kento Nanami can’t understand why he’s so infatuated with you. You're his complete opposite. You're not neat or organized with your things at the office. Your clothes are never put together: you always have a mismatched sock, or a wrinkle on your skirt, or dirt on your shoes. You talk loudly, can’t keep quiet on your seat, always a leg bouncing, always something to say. And yet, he can’t understand why he feels so attracted to you.

w.c.: 2k

inspired by this post

warnings: smut, explicit smut!!! fucking in an alley smut!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kento Nanami can’t understand why he’s so infatuated with you. You're his complete opposite. You're not neat or organized with your things at the office. Your clothes are never put together: you always have a mismatched sock, or a wrinkle on your skirt, or dirt on your shoes. You talk loudly, can’t keep quiet on your seat, always a leg bouncing, always something to say.  

And yet, he can’t understand why he feels so attracted to you. Maybe it’s the way you don’t care about what other people think of you, the way you’re free. He just can’t help the way you make him feel, like you’re a magnetic force, pulling him in.  

Which is why he approaches you at the bar. You were already there when he arrived, having an exciting conversation with the young bartender girl who was just trying to do her job. Nanami takes a seat beside you and swallows hard, trying to think of what to say to get your attention. He didn’t have to make much effort, for you noticed him first. You watched as he ordered a whiskey on ice, and he suddenly felt self-conscious.  

“Mr. Nanami,” you say, your speech a little slurred, eyes glassy and a smile on your lips. His chest almost implodes at the sight, “You come here often?”  

It's clear that your question is joke, a flirtatious joke, but still. Still Nanami finds it hard to breathe.  

“Sometimes,” he answers, trying to sound casual. You eye him down, from his neat hair to his formal work clothes. He doesn’t belong here. He overheard you asking some of your coworkers out, to the bar nearby, and decided to show up. He didn’t expect to find you by yourself, though.  

Smiling at him, you turn your body to face him, brushing away a strand of hair from your face.  

"Never thought I'd find someone like you in this bar,” you state, taking another sip from your beer.  

“What do you mean?”  

“I mean this place is a bit messy for you, isn't it?” You shrug.  

He pauses as the bartender hands him his whiskey. Your hooded eyes and body language make him unsure if you mean the bar or something else. Only then, he notices your skirt hiked up to your upper thighs and your stocking has a lace band on the hem. Under it, an intricate tattoo adorns your thigh, something he didn't know you had. His breath catches in his throat, and he takes a sip from his drink.  

You’re right. This bar is a bit messy for him, with loud shitty music playing, drunk people dancing, lone men and women on the bar, slurring their words, sobbing in their hands. Not a place for someone like him to go after hard day at work.  

“Yeah.” He manages to say, clearing his throat, “But I couldn’t help but feel attracted to it.”  

Your eyes sparkle, and a smile tugs the corner of your lips, “Yeah? What makes you feel this way?”  

Nanami swallows hard. You look so sexy like this, legs crossed, face hot from the beer, a few strands of hair coming out of the once neat bun in the back of your neck.  

He doesn’t know you noticed. The looks he gives you when you’re distracted at work, staring lustily, almost longing for your presence when you get up from your cubicle to go somewhere else. Once you caught him staring and he looked away quickly, embarrassed. You found it adorable the way he flushed and tried to act like nothing had happened. You can’t lie and say you’ve never thought about it, him and you, kissing in a secret supply closet, or fucking in the unused restroom on the 12 th floor of the office building, or even tangled in sheets after a rough pounding session.  

But those are just fantasies. Thoughts that come and go when you realize he’s near you or looking over the walls of his cubicle at you. In your head, he’d never go for someone like you. He always looks so neat and organized, going to work with pressed white shirts under blazer jackets and fancy shoes. And you’re just... you.  

Nanami clears his throat again, snapping you back to reality.  

“I guess the...” He seems to hesitate a little, “its freedom.”  

A frown grows between your brows, “Freedom?”  

He takes another sip from his drink. “The way it’s... carefree.”  

Then, you know he isn’t talking about the bar.  

“Oh.”  

“I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”  

Looking directly in his eyes, you sober up a little, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze.  

“You...” now, you hesitate, “You seem like a precise guy. Do you always take such risks?”  

His eyes darken as they look down at you, “No. But when I want something, I can’t get it out of my head.”  

A silent pause follows, just mere seconds before you lean in and presses your lips against his. Nanami doesn’t have time to kiss you back as you spill your bottle all over him.  

“Shit!” you exclaim grabbing napkins from the bar and trying to dry him off, “Fuck, I’m so sorry! God, I’m so clumsy, I’m so sorry!”  

He sees the desperate look on your face, a hint of tears welling up, and he gently grabs your wrists, making you pause and look at him. Then, he cups your cheek and leans in to kiss you properly. You return the kiss, more gently this time. He sighs when you trying to deepen the kiss, allowing you to pass your tongue through his lips. He does the same and a fire ignites inside him, he knows he must have you.  

Nanami pulls apart, a string of saliva connecting you both, and breathes hard.  

“Let me take you home.” He whispers and, despite the loud music muffling his request, you laugh softly.  

“What for?”  

He takes a deep breath, cupping your cheeks with both hands and pressing his forehead on yours.  

“I need to...” He closes his eyes. A feeling blooms in his chest traveling to his stomach and going straight to his cock. Fuck it, he’s gonna say it. “I need to fuck you.”  

The sincerity of it all makes your core pulsate between your legs. Is this real? Is one of your fantasies about to become true? Your breath hitches and your cheeks warm at the statement he gives you.  

“Then what’s-” you breathe, “what’s stopping you from fucking me right here?”  

Next thing you know, you’re being dragged outside of the bar and being pressed against a stone wall. It all happens so fast you almost don’t register Nanami dragged you to the backdoor of the establishment and kissing you behind the building. It's where employers come to take the trash out, or to have a smoke break, and you don’t know why, but the possibility of being caught just turns you on.  

Nanami turns you around, making your chest press on the cold brick wall, and lifting your skirt hastily. He grabs your ass firmly, earning a grunt from you. You feel his hand move down to the middle of your cheeks, cupping your core hungrily. A moan escapes your lips as he starts massaging your cunt over your underwear. It might have been a little too loud and if people were passing through, they’d hear the both of you, but, right now, you don’t give a shit. It’s not like you’ve never done this before, you’ve had your adventures in public once or twice, but the idea of being seen with him makes you wet.  

Kento Nanami, the one who never has a strand of hair out of place, who is always well-kept and tidy, is about to fuck you. You, who’s always careless, sloppy and untidy.  

“Fuck, Nanami.” You breathe as you reach to your underwear. He helps, pulling it down until your ass is exposed to the cold air. His fingers find their way to your cunt, already wet for him. He rubs your clit, and you moan loudly, your voice echoing in the alley.  

 “ Shh .” He puts a hand over your mouth as he inserts a finger inside you. You whimper and close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the wall. “Fuck, you’re so warm.” His voice is trembling with desire as he adds another finger starts pumping them inside you.  

You open your mouth to suck on his fingers, letting out a quiet breath. “Nanami, please.”  

You barely register his cock before he slides it inside you. He grunts, leaving you no time to adjust to him and start moving right away. Whimpering, grunting, and moaning, you try your best to keep it down, but it just feels so good to have him inside you that you want to make every sound possible to everyone to hear, to everyone to know Kento Nanami is fucking you. You can hear his rough breath, head pressed against your shoulder, a hand on your ass, the other on your shoulder.  

“F-fuck!” He breathes, slamming hard in you and groaning your name, “I’ve wanted this for so long!”  

“Oh, yeah?” You say, between breaths, feeling his grip on your ass tighten, “You mean this pussy? You’ve been wanting this pussy?”  

“God, yes!”  

Nanami wraps an arm around your waist and the other across your chest, speeding this pace and slamming hips on your ass harder than before. You grab his arm and guides his hand to your clit, wanting him to touch you there again. He immediately starts circling the bundle of nerves and you start to see stars with your orgasm coming, a quiet moan leaving your lips.  

“Do you like it, baby?” He whispers in your ear.   

“Kento,” You purr, throwing you head back and leaning on his shoulder. “Fuck– I love it.”  

At the sound of his first name, he thrusts inside you hard, and you suddenly feel the fire in your lower stomach, your toes curling inside your shoes as you try to grab the wall for support. The orgasm hits you hard and your knees almost give in, if it weren’t for the strong pair of arms holding you. Nanami feels your walls squeezing him and follows right after, cumming just seconds after you. Both of your breaths are uneven, a thin layer of sweat is on both of your skins, and he holds you like this for a moment before he pulls you to his chest. You feel his quick heartbeat slamming inside his chest as he cups your cheek, making you lean into his touch.  

Swallowing hard, you allow yourself to enjoy his embrace as the pace of your heartbeats is normal again and your breaths aren’t uneven anymore. The cold wind that hits you makes you shiver again, the sweat on your skin making it colder. It surprises you how gentle he is, as Kento pulls out of you slowly, watching your reaction to his absence. Sighing, you smile to yourself, feeling the slick substance run down your inner thighs. You don’t mind when he gently pulls your underwear up again, helping you pull your skirt down. It’s an intimate act, something you’ve never experienced before, and it makes you blush for a moment.  

“You okay?” He asks.  

 You nod, then shrug, turning around to face him. “Kinda cold, but… I’m okay.”  

He shrugs his blazer off and wraps it around you, rubbing your upper arms in the hope the friction will warm you up.  

Why is being so gentle you with you? It's not like you both have a relationship besides the shared looks in the office.  

“Thanks,” you whisper, fighting the urge to bury your nose on the fabric and inhale his scent.  

Nanami nods, “I meant it before. Let me take you home.”  

You look at him, sweat across his forehead, hair sticking to it. All you want to do is brush it away, wipe the moist from his skin and kiss him slowly until you can’t feel your lips. Maybe this is more than just sex, you think. You don’t know why he looks so captivated by you, but you like it. You like the way he’s gentle.  

So you nod, smiling.  

“Okay.”

[seattlesellie]

hi angel i saw u say you wanted more fluffy ellie requests and i thought about maybe something along the lines of the cute pics she has of you two in her phone idk it’s just something i thought of u don’t have to write it if u don’t want to i just love ur blog and everything u write 💗💗💗💗🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

not about love ♡

pre-dating slightly loser college!ellie 🦕 incoming !! basically u go through ellies phone and find… something. part 1 of… maybe?

warnings: slightly mean ellie for a second, sexual tension, mentions of weed and alcohol.

part 2

Tic-Toc, the gentle sounds of the ancient clock in Ellie’s room filled the thick air. a gift from Joel. It was a warm, lazy afternoon. You almost fell asleep, almost. Her bed smelled like her, so did the ruffled, Nirvana t-shirt you were laying on. Everything in this room practically screamed Ellie. The scent, the sketches on the wall — of Dina, and Jesse, and you. Why did she have more sketches of you than anyone else? A dinosaur lego, a miniature solar system, obscure band posters, Oh! here’s the pin you gifted her once!, two pairs of mismatched socks, a random rock (“It’s from like, the moon” she said. It was from the local science museum.)

“El” you whined, receiving a gentle hum in response.

“I’m bored” you exclaimed with a heavy sigh. It's not as if she owed you any attention, she told you she had to study. For some reason, some odd reason nor you or her could put your finger on, you had to be there with her. “Well” you excused. “It’s not like I have anything better to do, right?” A lie. What about your project due Monday? Nevermind.

“Catch this” she exclaimed, tossing a serene light blue stress ball directly at your face.

“Ow!” you whined, yet again. If only you knew what those whines did to her.

“Sorry bro, gotta finish this fucking question. She said, flexing her sore hand. “Fuck this fucking Prof, seriously” She mumbled, clearly annoyed, clearly frustrated. Ellie had this thing, well, if you could even call something that she only had specifically with you a “Thing” — where she had to call you by those stupid names. “Dude” “Bro” “Jeez man!” just to see you squirm. Youd flinch ever so slightly, a fleeting reaction that betrayed a hint of offense flickering in your eyes. Every time you couldn’t help but pout, couldn’t help but look a little bit hurt, it did something to her. It wasn’t because she liked hurting you, God knows she didn’t. It would give her a glimmer of hope, of light. Shed journal about it, too;

“I called her Bro again. She looked really sad. Why does she get sad? I’m so fucking stupid. It’s probably because no one else calls her fucking bro, I’m literally delusional. Also had expired fucking Pizza. Worst day ever. Shit. Not that bad because she smiled at batted her eyelashes. God Ellie you need therapy.” YOURE A DUMBASS!!!!”

Half an hour had elapsed, brimming with Ellie muttering to herself under her breath. lighting a blunt, burning the blunt, passing it to you, begging you to give it back after 3 seconds.

You were pretty sure you had gone through every single app on your phone five times already. Stalking rando’s on Instagram, watching ASMR tiktoks, talking shit with Dina in the groupchat. How much more of this boredom could you take? My god, you were humming a stupid melody to yourself.

“Griiiind boy you know I grind when I pull-“

“Shh”

Did Ellie just shush you?!

“Excuse me?” You said.

“I’m trying to concentrate. Also what the fuck is a Fartulum?” Ellie retorted, withdrawing slightly and punctuating her frustration with stomps on the floor. God, she was too fucking cute.

“Can I play on your phone?” You questioned innocently. One more opening and closing the same App and you’d have lost your damn mind. You could practically see the Candy Crush candies popping inside of your brain every time you closed your eyes.

“No” she answered bluntly.

“Why? you scared I’ll find your nudes? Not gonna look- Swear on my li-“

You could hear her eye rolling, somehow.

“I dont have fucking nudes” she affirmed with a touch of exasperation.

“Someone else’s?” you said quietly. Your tone almost exposed you. Almost.

“Psh… no” Ellie said in return, just as quiet. Her tone almost exposed her, too.

Wish I had yours. Shut it, Ellie.

“Then let me go on your phone” You whined, got off the bed and almost slipped on one of her belts that laid on the floor. So messy, so, so Ellie.

She cast a sidelong glance at you, her eyes darting from the corner of her vision. Her grip on the pen was incredibly tight. It happened every time you got near, got too close to her. Whether it was clutching the strings of her hoodie, her knuckles turning white with tension, or her toes curling in a clenched stance. Shed never ever admit it to herself, cool, calm & collected, but fuck did you make her nervous.

You settled yourself on the chair beside her, causing her to divert every ounce of her attention back to her assignment, shifting it solely onto you. You. You. You.

She gazed directly into your eyes, and a peculiar warmth flooded your face. Its funny how even after being friends for all this time, making eye contact with her managed to stir something within you. She asked you about it once, mid fight. “You never even look at me when we talk!” she huffed. “Yes I do!” no you dont. “No you don’t!” and when your lips quivered, turning you in, she left it at that.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck, her arms flexing subtly with the motion. You gave her that look, the look that made her cheeks go bright pink, her hands clam up. She bit her lip. “Fine”. You won, flashing her a toothy smile she couldn’t help but grin at.

And there you were, with Ellie’s iPhone 5C (Yeah, she never got that buying a new iPhone every 2 years phenomenon) laying on Ellie’s bed, in Ellie’s room.

“Ew - Ellie what the fuck? why is your screen greasy?!” You squirmed, fingertips grazing over her slightly sticky screen. Is that fucking chicken nuggets residue?

“Shut up, dude. You asked me for my phone so deal with the consequences”

Dude.

You rolled your eyes, proceeded to wipe the screen of her phone with the corner of her cozy flannel bedsheet. Her phone was really warm. One more month and it would probably set on fire.

“Password?” You questioned, and shifted to lay on your stomach, your cheek caressing the pillow. It had a little auburn colored hair laying on top of it.

Ellie huffed and waited a second before she responded, contemplating again. It’s harmless, fuck it.

“2222”

“Okay, seriously - you could get hacked with that dumbass password”

“Pffft” Ellie huffed. “I’d fucking beat them up if they tried robbing me” she said, ever the brave.

“I’m not… talking about robbers, Ellie. Like, hackers?”

“Same thing”

“You cant beat up hackers they’re- Nevermind” you sighed.

2222.

If the room was classic Ellie, god, so was her phone. Default Apple background, because she truly couldn’t be bothered. iMessage, Instagram with four pictures on her feed; One of her arm slightly flexing her tat (who the fuck was the bitch who commented “damn” under there?), one of a stray cat wearing her grey beanie, a meme that says “Fuck sex. Let’s do something romantic like play Fireboy and Watergirl on CoolMathGames.Com” (God, she thought she was so funny for that one. 6 Likes, one from you, one from Jesse, the fake Instagram account you and Dina created for Joel, her ex Cat, and one from Dina and a spam bot). Next to the Instagram laid the NASA app (of course), Call Of Duty for iPhone (Made her sleep for only fifteen minutes one night), calculator, 9GAG (People still use that?!), and… her gallery.

You pursed your lips, contemplating the situation. Should you?after all, Ellie said; No nudes. So what could possibly be on there?

Of course.

You couldn't contain a soft giggle that escaped your lips, earning an inquisitive whine from Ellie. "What's so funny?" she grumbled, unable to resist her curiosity.

“Said you were studying, so study” You said, while scrolling through her gallery.

As you readjusted your position on the bed, you unintentionally swiped to the left, revealing her albums. Just harmless browsing, right?

“Screenshots”

“Funny memes”

“Pics to send Jesse when he’s being stupid”

“Dhhdjsjsou”

“Stink ❤️”

A picture of you, laying on the grass, a bright, toothy smile spread across your face. It was from your Instagram, the one you deleted because you thought you looked dumb. The one Ellie commented a for once unsarcastic “Woah” on.

The album was locked.

You felt your throat go dry, heartbeat speeding up. Your leg started shaking, and God, you hoped she would come and snatch the phone off of your hand.

But she didn’t. She just shifted in her sit, cleared her throat and resumed her studies.

You shouldn’t have. But you did.

2222

Unlocked. Success!

You felt like screaming at the top of your lungs. Was it even hotter in here now? Extra humid today? you bit your lip, it almost hurt.

A picture of you and Dina. A selfie you sent to the groupchat two weeks ago. Ellie doodled a green heart on it. You were sweating. A picture of you on Christmas last year. That same day you had your stupid fight on. You were wearing a Santa hat, mug of hot Coco and tiny white marshmallows in your hand.

Your stomach felt as if it were infested by a swarm of Ellie looking butterfly’s.

A picture of you sound asleep, in Ellie’s bed. She was mid-moving a hair strand away from your face. It was blurry. You recognized that top.

You were wasted that day. Blabbering uncontrollably about how you had to crash on her bed, because you were scared your new roommate would think you’re stupid, and dumb, and an idiot, for getting drunk at a frat party.

You couldn’t understand why Ellie didn’t want to help you. You almost kicked her when she said she couldn’t, that you’d be better off in your bed. “I snore. And I kick in my sleep - Seriously” You almost cried. You called her a bad friend, a fake one, because — isn’t that what friends are for? Shouldn’t they have your back when you’re a babbling mess? Hold your hair for you, put you to sleep, take care of you?

Ellie couldn’t sleep that night.

When you laid there, right on her bed, her face went so red and hot you could fry something on it. She almost hit herself in the face when her chest grazed your back. When your leg caressed her’s, and ended up on top of her thigh, she almost screamed. When you shifted to face her, an angelic, sound asleep expression on your face, she swore she almost died. The string of your top came off, revealing more of your shoulder, and the strap of your bra, Ellie turned around so fast she almost woke you up.

She slept for 20 minutes.

When she woke up, she had to make herself remember it. Remember you, laying with her.

So she took a picture. An innocent one.

You almost jumped when the pen fell slipped from her hand and she turned around to face you.

“What are you doing?”

Whats in her notes app?

♡

part two

[imissnanami]

desperate 4 u | pathetic!choso x f!reader

Choso masturbates to a polaroid of u using a pocketpuss 

���Content | MDNI, male masturbation, masturbating to photos, sex toys/pocket pussy, swearing, pet name baby/baby girl, multiple orgasm & overstim, not proofread oops

Choso couldn’t help but feel giddy as he prepared his bed for his jerk of session. He usually found himself half way to cumming before the thought popped into his head, crashing on whatever surface was the closest. Trembling hands pull dirty clothes and blankets off his bed, in his excitement he misses his sock twice before flinging it behind himself. 

As he moved the pillows to the head of the bed, he could feel just how hard he was in his pants. The loose fabric of his shorts did nothing to provide pressure on his sensitive cock. What it did do, however, was drag teasing featherlight touches across his bulbous head. If he focused hard on his sense of touch as his length bobbed, he could feel the cool edges of the wet material, his precum having left an ever-expanding patch. 

His brows furrowed as he whined, getting impatient, eyes searching for anything he missed before he sits down. Having already shed his shirt the moment he entered the room, Choso went for the elastic band of his shorts. Lifting his hips, he pulled the band upwards and over with both thumbs. His thick dick waved in the air, too hard to lie flat on his stomach. 

“Fuck, I’m so horny,” Choso whispered to himself, throwing his shorts to the floor. Knowing if he touched himself now, it would all be pointless, Choso took a few deep breaths before leaning over to his bedside table. Opening the bottom drawer, he grabbed the stack of polaroids and a roll of tape. Dropping the roll on his chest he shuffled through them. 

Dozens of polaroids all had the same subject, Y/N. Some, of her fully clothed, but most from a beach trip they took two months ago. A tiny purple bikini was all she wore. Breasts nearly spilling out of the too small cups, and ties of the bikini bottoms digging into full hips. There were so many provocative poses from her and Shoko’s ‘model shoot’. Flipping to the second last one, his breath hitched and his cock twitched. A large bead of precum slipped out of his slit, globbing down his length and pooling at the base. 

Shoko had insisted Choso should get a better angle, to make her look taller, so Choso was sat on the sand. While it made Shoko look taller, what he didn't expect was for this new angle to give him a perfect shot of your ass. More precisely the bottom of your ass and in between your legs. What’s worse, was that you decided to turn around. Your plush thighs stood open, leaving enough room for the lens to get a good glimpse of your covered pussy. 

Having just come out of the water a few minutes ago, the thin bathing suit fabric clung to your lips, accentuating every swell and dip. The fabric was darker than the rest of the bottoms, having taken longer to dry, but Choso likes to think it was for another reason. Precisely? Him. Looking up, your cute tummy looked so soft. And further up, the tiny triangles barely covered your nipples, obvious by the fact they poked into the very edge of the fabric, making them so easy to locate. But what made the picture Choso’s favourite, was the fact he caught you looking right at him. Your eyes slightly off centre, looking past the lens to where Choso was, behind it. 

Yep, this one. 

Carefully pulling placing his precious polaroids back into the drawer, he rips off a piece of tape and turns around on the bed. Making sure the strip of tape didn’t cover any of the image, Choso taped it at the centre of his headboard. Flopping back on his back, he could feel his heart beating faster, knowing he'd finally be able to start soon. 

Reaching back in the drawer, he felt around for his favourite toy. It was a simple, clear pocket pussy. Bringing it up, he put it beside him. 

Closing his eyes, Choso placed his hands on his chest. Feeling his hard nipples on his palms, he begins circling the left while pinching his right nipple. Biting his lip he muffles a sweet whine that tired to escape. Licking his lips he drags his hand down his front, pressing into his abs and tracing the centre line. 

Cracking his eyes open he watches as he reaches his pubes. He gives the dark hair a gentle tug, moaning low in his chest as his cock bobs in the air. The red tip glistening, veins more prominent from the neglect. Choso licks his lips again, biting his bottom lip. Tracing his finger in the pool of precum, he closes his hand, spreading it along his palm. Taking a deep breath and looking through half lidded eyes, his wet hand hovers around his base before closing. 

Choso feels like he could cum right then and there. His brows pinch together as he moans into the room, breath catching in his chest. Creating a tight fist, he drags it up and down his length. Once. Twice. A third time. But the fourth his eyes have slipped shut again and he sighs at each tug. The slick sound of his hand on his dick makes him whine out your name before babbling;

“need you...hnggg please, fuck...need your pussy on meee,”

A clumsy hand pats around the bed beside him, trying to find the sex toy. Once his sticky fingers find it, he’s bringing it up to his mouth, moaning. Pressing the silicon toy to his lips he groans out;

“fuck Y/N, please sit on my face,” 

Leaning up against the toy, Choso makes out with the lips. His tongue licking into the tight hole, pushing his face deeper into it, bending his nose in the process. His laboured breathing speeds up as he continues to masturbate himself. Fuck, does he wish you were sat on his face right now. Choso wonders what your pretty moans would sound like. Would you sigh your pleasure or were you more of a whiner. Shit. Would you whine his name? Screwing his eyes tighter, Choso could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks. Biting back a sob of pleasure he realizes that he’s much closer than he’d like to be. 

Ripping the pocket pussy from his mouth, he gives himself one more stroke before flipping himself on all fours. His hazy eyes focus on the polaroid taped to his headboard. Biting his lip he strokes the side of your face in the picture.

“hold on just a sec baby. Gotta line myself up here” 

Tugging a pillow down he folds it and wedges the toy in between the pillow and the mattress. Hissing as he uses one hand to guide his length to the opening of the toy, the other arm supports his weight. Glancing back up at the photo of you be begins speaking again. 

“all ready baby,” Choso smears the his tip along the silicon lips, groaning. The texture of the toy rub against the sensitive nerves of his cockhead. Choso adds more pressure and moans as he grinds the bottom of his tip on the fake clit. 

“please baby, please tell me you want this” Choso lip wobbles as he tries to focus on your cute face. His eyes sliding down to your pussy and how much detail your wet bathing suit captured. Biting his lips he talks to you again, his hips gently thrusting;

“please, you do, don't you? You want my thick- fuhnggck, my thick cock in your pussy? Of course you do. Fuck baby girl. Imma put it in...ok?” Without warning Choso’s tip slips into the toy, past the first tight ring. 

Choso tightly shuts his eyes as he bites down hard on his lip, tasting blood. Fuck, he couldn't cum so early, what would he do when he really had you in his bed? He deliriously thought. Holding his breath he began to push in, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. He couldn't help but focus on how each ridge of the toy gripped and squeezed his length. The tightness was driving him insane as he pulled his hips back, pulling himself from the toy. 

All at once Choso felt his eyes tear up as a sob escaped him. The suction from the toy created a vacuum that just felt too good on his sensitive head. Trying, and failing, to maintain eye contact with your picture, Choso closed his eyes and conjured up a prefect mental image of you. Wrapping his arms around the pillows, his hips began to thrust in earnest now. Heavy and quick ruts shook the bed as he struggled to talk through sobs of pleasure. 

“’m so sorry baby..can’t slow down...feels too good...’m sorry fuck, so tight”

His whines continued to fill the room as he shoved his face into the pillows. Wanting nothing more than to suck on your perky nipples. Choso whimpered and found the corner of his pillow. Moaning as his tongue flicked along the seam, soaking it. As he thrust into the pillow, it began to shift. With a particularly aggressive jerk the toy slipped to a new angle. Choso’s eyes rolled back in his skull as his hips wildly thrust into the toy, rhythm lost. The feeling of cold air hitting his wet balls, mixed with the suction on his swollen tip and your face painted in his mind had Choso cumming harder than he ever has before. The feeling starting in his stomach spread as his muscles tensed painfully, teeth grinding on the pillow in his mouth, face crumpling in pleasure as tears ran down his face. Choso’s entire body convulsed as rope after rope of hot sticky cum painted the clear toy white. Panting like an animal he finally stilled after the longest orgasm of his life. 

After the afterglow had passed, Choso begins by slowly unclenching his hands from the pillows, stiff joints protesting. A loud sob rips itself from his throat as his hips move, shifting his still hard length in the toy. Whimpering he carefully lifts himself on shaky arms, reaching down to try and pull himself out. Gentle tugs and attempts to get the toy off did not go to plan. The overstimulation making Choso cry and pant quick breaths. The sensation was overwhelming as he tries again, this time pulling harder. It hurt, but felt so good too. 

“Fuck” He whimpers, but for some reason his hand goes to tug the toy on his length again. The voice in the back of his head telling him to keep going, to continue. His hips weakly squirm, not knowing if he wanted to chase or run away from the extreme feeling. Moaning he feels that familiar sensation in his stomach. He was gonna cum again. With the one brain cell he has left, he takes his chance and braces himself. Teetering on the edge, he holds his base with one hand and the toy in the other. His mouth opens in a silent cry he pulls the toy clean off. Thinner ropes of cum spurt from his tip as he curls in on himself. Body tensing before un-tensing and relaxing, cock finally softening. Collapsing back into his bed, his head feels fuzzy as his ears ring slightly. Once his breathing returns to normal, he can’t help but chuckle and hum in satisfaction, stretching. 

Yes he still needs to clean up, but, he’s also already planning next time. 

I do not authorize any plagiarism, copying, reproducing, etc. of my work. Thank you for respecting this.

[tomlinsins]

🌿 Take Me Higher Than I've Ever Been by crimsontheory @ireallysawanangel [51k]

Harry is pretty simple. He goes to work everyday, comes home, then watches Netflix with his cat. And if he happens to have a tiny little crush on his coworker, then that’s just his own business.

🌿 Crave** by dimpled_halo @comebackassholes [90k]

All eyes are on Louis Tomlinson to bring new talent to save Hanover Records from the mess the previous executive left behind. His newest artist, Harry Styles, is charismatic and everything Louis needs to revive the label. It’s up to Louis and his team to make Harry the star he was born to be. When Harry and Louis come face to face, it isn’t the first time they’ve met, and their worlds are about to be turned upside down.

🌿 Young Gods by sincewewereeighteen [77k]

“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?”

“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”

“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”

“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.”

“Ok. Go.”

the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't

🌿 School Of Extraordinary Lovers by @stylinsoncity [191k]

harry is a third-year witch and violinist at Laitswold, the only magical academy in the UK, with dreams of taking on the world, and hopefully breaking the centuries-old curse on his family while he's at it. he does not dream of facing off against his childhood rival and duet partner, but louis is back in town after six years abroad, so that's exactly what happens.

🌿 One Last Time by @smittenwithlouis [24k]

“I mean it, Harry, this is the last time,” Louis breathes out as Harry kisses down his neck.

“Sure,” Harry mumbles into his heated skin.

The action makes Louis shudder. He hates how good it feels. He knows he should be revolted. Disgusted. But god does it feel so damn good.

Or: Louis is a werewolf, and Harry is a vampire. They’re supposed to hate each other, but they’re too busy fucking to care.

🌿 Where I Burn To Be by pleasinglouis @pleasing-louis [143k]

“That’s right. I do own the skies. And you wanna know why?” he sneered. Without his boots on, Louis was a fair bit shorter than Harry, his eyes pretty much level with Harry’s chin and his socked toes bumping into the boots of the other man, close enough that Louis could make out the tiny scar on Harry’s brow and the individual shades of emerald in his irises. He was handsome, but that only made Louis hate him more. Heart thumping heavily against his sternum and his hands balled into fists, Louis lifted his chin defiantly and plastered a coldhearted smirk across his lips. “Because I’m the best goddamn pilot here.”

aka the Top Gun AU

🌿 Like A Melody In My Head by sarcasticinfluentry [60k]

A college marching band AU in which Harry is just trying to get through his first semester of college while pining over the hot drum major, Louis is trying to ignore his feelings for a certain curly-haired freshman, Zayn is trying to become less guarded, Liam is trying to be patient, and Niall is trying to make his dad proud.

🌿 Now You Know Me (For Your Eyes Only) by nadinecestmoi [77k]

au where harry and louis are solo artists and they’re not exactly friends per se but they’re friendly, know each other from industry parties and things like that and there’s always been this weird unspoken sexual tension between them and louis’ always kinda confused bc isn’t harry the biggest ladies’ man in the industry?? and one day harry asks louis to collab with him and of course louis says yes even tho he’s kinda surprised and harry plays the song for him and louis is completely blown away by how beautiful it is and it’s a love song and he’s like damn whoever this is about is lucky as fuck bc it’s clearly written from personal experience so they spend all this time together recording and it’s super bittersweet bc they click right away and it takes louis about three seconds to realize he has a huge fucking crush on harry but on the other hand harry clearly had someone in mind when he wrote the song so the last day of recording comes and louis’ like “thanks for having me on the song” and harry just shrugs and is like “well it just seemed fitting bc the song is about you”

🌿 Cold As Ice by larryspillows [76k]

Two famous boys, one passion. Two hearts, one home: the ice.

Or, an ice skating ff where the two most famous skaters in the world are forced to skate at the same rink. The only problem: They hate each other. What could go wrong?

🌿 take my hand (and my heart and soul)** by bananasandboots @anylessreal [45k]

The one where Harry hasn't spoken to his best friend in sixteen months and can't remember why.

Total Fics Read: 10

** rereads

[thewinterpoet2]

ROXANNE

Jake Peralta x Reader

In which the reader is a secret vocalist outside of work as a detective in the 99th precinct, Jake becomes suspicious which leads to feelings rising to the surface.

WARNINGS: Swearing, themes of crime, theft, interrogation.

Word count: 15,654

Y/N~ Your Name

L/N~ Last Name

The first time Jake started to become suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

It was nearing Christmas which meant crime in Brooklyn had reached a new level of stupid, leading every Detective and Beat Cop to internally curse every black Friday sale to hell for eternity.

The squad of the 99th Precinct tended to be divided around the holidays, Boyle sprung into action, in true Boyle fashion, buying ridiculously expensive gifts for, well, everyone.

Santiago spent countless hours writing Christmas cards, and for the fifth year in a row, apologised incessantly to an exhausted UPS driver as she reluctantly returned all her holiday gifts for Captain Holt.

Gina loved Christmas and celebrated, to some, in what would be a very unusual way. But in her defence, setting up a PO box for her fans, meant she could have a very cheap Christmas. Thrifty and entrepreneurial, that's Gina.

Whereas, some members of the squad weren't as keen on Christmas. We know how Jake feels about Thanksgiving and with no suprise, this translates to his views around Christmas, too.

Rosa Diaz, although she hides it very well, spends Christmas with her family every year. Now her sexuality was out in the open, the healing her family went through have led, thankfully, to a much closer relationship. Rosa would never say this out loud, but knowing that they're fighting in her corner, is the best gift she could have ever asked for.

Oh, but if you asked she'd definitely tell you to "Mind your own fucking business before I get involved in yours" and according to her, "you definitely don't want that, do you?"

Jake Peralta was a great detective but a tricky human being. To put it bluntly, Jake hated Christmas. He hated carols, trees, "little scary elves that show up everywhere", and most of all, romcoms. Jake despised hallmark romance films. Was it because he was single for the 8th Christmas in a row? Who could tell, but he'd certainly deny it if anyone had the courage to ask.

Y/N, was definitely the wildcard out of the squad, especially when it came to the holidays. She'd told every detective the same bullshit tale of how she was going back to England to see her family for the holidays, how her least favourite gift is socks, how more than anything she hates carolling. Because, jesus, no one wants to hear her sing!

Detective L/N was a liar, for many reasons. Yes she was from England but she actually didn't mind socks and the biggest lie of all, maybe she'd convinced the detectives they wouldn't want to hear her sing... But her bandmates and their followers definitely did.

See, Y/N wasn't just a Detective, she was a trained singer, performer and songwriter. After work she tended to dodge Shaw's to head to band practice or straight to a gig, not that anyone had figured that out of course.

Not yet anyway.

Tne first time Jake became suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

Jake and Y/N were in the middle of interrogating a perp, nothing too gruesome or inhumane, a couple counts of petty theft and something that would hopefully have led to a new lead about a future bank heist.

William Dobson was his name.

"Why do all these perps have such boring names, why isn't he called Franco Goldminer"

Peralta turned around, slamming an evidence file onto the nearest desk. Y/N looked unamused at the topic of conversation but not surprised, it was Jake after all.

"Because I'm pretty sure 'Franco Goldminer' is A) too obvious for a criminal B) kind of ironic and C) sounds like an idiot that still lives with his mum in his 30s"

Jake's eyes twinkled at her quick and easy retort, not that she'd have seen that of course.

"Nah I stand by it, he's got a dumb name"

Scoffing Y/N stopped reading the provided statement, sighing in conclusion, rubbing her face with her hands,

"So we've got nothing, Jesus."

Peralta let out a sigh of annoyance,

"L/N why don't you go talk to him, I'll watch and see if he opens up to you"

Giving a cheeky grin he continued,

"I would say you could try annoy him into talking but you basically do that anyway"

Slapping his shoulder Y/N walked straight back into interrogation, ignoring his laughter trailing behind her.

William looks up at Y/N, recognition dawning on his face.

Fuck, this wasn't good.

"So Dobson, recount the night of the 16th for me again, seems some details don't match up from the tapes-"

Mid sentence you're cut off,

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

Y/N made a sound of aggravation at being cut off

"Small world, lots of people. Anyway the footage shows a different time to the one you claim you-"

"Roxanne on 5th right?"

Shit, shit, SHIT. Y/N's blood ran cold at the name of the club she performs at, it's nice to meet fans, just not in the middle of an interrogation.

Fuck she had to play this off cool, nochelant, like nothing happened.

"I don't care about your personal life Dobson, you're here because you're a criminal. Distraction techniques won't work with me, I don't recall being your best friend, Sir"

Awesome she thought, professional and managed to get an insult in at the same time.

"aren't you in that ba-"

Slamming her file onto the table

"Jesus give it a rest you don't know me"

Y/N's voice came out high pitched, aggravated and very, well, unlike her. This was enough to peek Peralta's interest from behind the glass, this wasn't the Y/N he knew, his coworker who hated anything boring but rarely took risks.

Hands up in defeat, Dobson backs down and the interrogation continues as it was before, absolutely useless.

What Y/N didn't know is Peralta was on the other side of the glass, a puzzled expression on his face;

This was the day Jake Peralta made it his mission to investigate further.

"Who are you Y/N?" He mumbled.

A few weeks later, Jake stopped going to Shaws with the squad.

This in itself was confusing for his fellow detectives, Boyle was practically heartbroken thinking that he'd done something to scare his best friend off.

This led to Boyle doing everything he could to try and entice Jake to their bar, regardless of how weird it was.

Boyle is Boyle, he's very extra, but he's got such a big heart and that's all that mattered to Jake.

However, Charles' interference was only causing Jake more stress, his plan needed to be a secret to be able to make this work.

It was a Friday night, the day before New Year's Eve. Y/N had requested annual leave tomorrow, something that was rarely granted on holiday's (thanks again New York) Jake managed to find this much out from a single conversation with Gina, oh, and because the holiday schedule was on a public server but that seemed too easy.

If he wasn't suspicious before, he definitely was now, something was in the water and he simply had to know what was going on.

It's not like Jake was OBSESSED with Y/N, he just wanted to know her on a more personal level and she made that incredibly difficult.

"I like to keep myself to myself, work is work, home is home. Keep them separate"

Her beautiful voice repeated the devastating series of words more times than he'd have liked to have heard them. Never. None. No thanks.

He'd invited her to Shaw's so many times he'd lost count, he'd asked if she wanted to watch Die Hard at his apartment, he'd even asked if he could do more overtime so he could spend more time with her. In the 6 years he'd worked with her he'd made absolutely zero progress, it's hard to fancy someone that doesn't acknowledge your existence.

Jake thinks Y/N is perfect.

Plain and simple.

Starring at her, lost in thought. He thinks about her eyes, how he wishes one day she'd look at him with the same love and happiness he looked at her with. He wonders what their kids would look like, okay Jake that's a bit far you're sounding a bit like Charles, he internally scolds himself.

"JAKE" Y/N snapped her fingers to get his attention, a look that can only be described as concern adorning her features.

"Huh? Oh yes, yes. I agree, yes let's do that. Whatever it was you said" He rambled at the speed of light, pretending to have acknowledged the last 20 mins that don't exist in his mind.

A smirk grew on Y/N's face, something he barely saw but made him feel like the room just got 20 times hotter.

"Oh so you were listening, yeah? Fabulous, so we can go ahead and schedule the hip replacement..."

Jake's eyes grew wide, babbling out some incoherent nonsense he managed to find two words; "HIP REPLACEMENT?"

Y/N couldn't hold back anymore and cried with laughter, barely being able to form any words.

"I was talking to you about someone I booked using their need for a hip replacement as an excuse, I joked she could use yours" wiping away tears, Y/N's laughter dies down seeing his daze and confusion.

"Are you okay, Jake?" Starring him down, he does what he does best, panics.

"I have to go" Jake stands up bolts out the room at top speed, leaving a very concerned Y/N.

Y/N has always liked Jake, he's bubbly, silly, but cares so much about everyone in his life, he'd go above and beyond for anyone and that's something you can't buy. She has wanted to let him into her personal life for a while but mixing personal and professional has never worked in her favour so she stops herself from letting things get weird and complicated again. Life is as complicated as she makes it after all.

Tomorrow Y/N's band were performing at Roxanne again for their NYE party, she was debuting the title song of their new cover album. Y/N has always been such a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, so "Go Your Own Way" definitely made the cut, providing, Jamie and Simon (her bandmates) were okay with that of course. She was excited, finally time to let her hair down and shed any stress from work.

Jake, after running out at top speed, took to his phone, made a few calls and booked a table tomorrow night for nine people.

At Roxanne.

Jake, Charles, Rosa, Amy, Terry, Captain Holt, Gina, Sully and Hitchcock.

And Y/N had no idea.

Well, neither did anyone other than Jake. This was going to be interesting.

The morning of NYE came and Y/N was ecstatic, eating breakfast at lighting speed, grabbing a coffee, brushing her teeth and then heading to the subway, felt like seconds. You know what they say, time flies when you're having fun.

Y/N arrived at Roxanne at just gone 1pm and immediately hugged Jamie who gave a huge grin seeing her arrival.

"Hi baby! Don't you look a treat, you excited for later?"

Blushing and hitting his shoulder Y/N laughed at his brash complimenting.

"Yeah, yeah, save it Jame, where's your boyfriend? He better not be hiding, we're fucked without him"

"Right here gorgeous"

Y/N jumped and let out a sharp gasp seeing him right behind her.

"Don't scare me like that, dick!"

Laughing he pulled her into a hug.

"Ready to blow the world away with your pipes tonight angel?"

Laughing gently she said "As ready as I'll ever be, right let's practice idiots. Then we can grab some food before we have to change"

Y/N had her mind free from work and Jake, but for Jake, well that was another story.

To Jake this was a stakeout, he had no idea whether he'd find a Mafia organisation or nothing at all. He phoned up Roxanne to ask about the event but all they said was to "Check the damn website, it's not 1942 anymore" and the website hadn't been updated in months.

Jake was terrified.

An afternoon turned into the evening and soon Y/N was slipping on a red sequined dress, black knee high boots, two lace black gloves, smokey, dark makeup and her hair was in curls, ready to take to the stage.

Roxanne was bustling already and it had only just gone 8, she was on in 30 mins and this was their moment.

Warmed up and excited, adrenaline coursing through her veins, she jumped up and down to hype herself up, she had got this.

Jake on the other hand, was only just getting ready, nothing too extravagant just a classic shirt, no tie and a jacket, but a clean jacket so it counts, right? The table was booked for 9 and he had no idea what was going to happen or what would be uncovered.

5 minutes to their opening call, Jamie, Simon and Y/N were all hugging and hyping up each other, knowing this was going to be the performance of a lifetime.

The crowd are cheering already, the bar is stacked and there's no space in the room, the floor is filled to the brim full of people and the only remaining space is one singular table on the balcony of the club, a reserved sign sitting neatly in the center.

"LADIES, THEYDIES AND GENTLEMEN, TONIGHT WE TAKE YOU INTO THE NEW YEAR IN STYLE, YOU KNOW THEM, YOU LOVE THEM, IT'S 'CRIME ME A RIVER"

Running out onto the stage, the heat from the stage lights hit Y/N and then everything changed, her body felt warm and she'd never felt more comfortable. The first notes started of Go Your Own Way and she took a breath then started to sing.

Loving you

Isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things

That I feel?

The crowd scream at the sound of her voice, the sweet melody carrying through the entire club, out the doors, into the night.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

How can I

When you won't take it from me?

Y/N can't help but think about Jake as she sings, music really is true to the heart and god what her heart wants more than anything is him.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

Jake and the squad pull up to the club, Terry already confused about why they're at such a random location on NYE when they could be at Shaws or "somewhere that doesn't look straight out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show"

Squeezing through the crowd blocking the entrance to the club, Jake heard Amy gasp.

"Oh my god, Jake"

"No fucking way" Rosa chimed in.

"This is unexpected" Gina remarked.

"Terry did not see this coming" Terry exclaimed.

Tell me why

Everything turned around

Packing up

Shacking up is all you want to do

Looking at his shocked colleagues, Jake followed their eyeline to the stage, seeing Y/N he unconsciously held his breath. She looked out of this world, so out of character from the person he shares a desk space with, but at the same time, she'd never looked more, her. His heart beating faster than the beat of the music, he turned to look at the squad once more, seeing Rosa's smirk, Amy's disbelief, Terry's enjoyment, Boyle squealing like a child at Jake's reaction.

"Oh Jakey, I knew you liked her, I knew it, I can't wait to be best man at your wedding" Charles then carried on monologuing but it all drowned out to Jake who only heard Y/N, oh boy, could she sing.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

Open up

Everything's waiting for you

During this moment he imagined Y/N was singing directly to him, his heart fluttered and in that moment he knew he had to tell Y/N, he just had to. Or he'd explode.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

All the squad started pushing past the crowd to try and get as near to the stage as possible, ignoring their table completely (well apart from Hitchcock and Scully) cheering, dancing and having a great time. Enjoying every second.

On the last note of Y/N's performance she took a breath and basked in the screaming of the crowd.

"THANK YOU! MY NAME IS Y/N AND WE'RE HERE SO YOU CAN HAVE A GOOD TIME, DO WE WANT A GOOD TIME?"

Hearing a scream of "YES" she continued by saying "OKAY SO HERE'S OUR NEXT SONG, THIS ONE IS A BIT DIFFERENT, IT'S MORE OF A POWER BALLED, ARE WE READY?"

But before the first note could be sang Y/N made direct eye contact with Jake, who was fondly shaking his head in disbelief. She smiled widely and blushed a deep red.

She knew they'd talk after, and he did too. But for now she'd show how she loved him by showing him who she really was, Unapologetically and he loved nothing more.

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this fic, might do a part 2, if you want to be added to a taglist or if you want a part 2 full stop please let me know:) unedited so it's definitely not perfect haha. Enjoy!

#jakeperalta #jakeperaltaxreader #brooklyn99 #brooklyn99fanfic #brooklyn99jake #jake #jakeperalta #jacobperaltaxreader #xreader #charlesboyle #rosadiaz #amysantiago #captainholt #terryjeffords #ginalinetti #scully #hitchcock

[neminomnom]

Alterantive uinverse powder headcanons

Who should I write headcanons for next 🤨 and some of these are just general headcanons, some if you was in a relationship with her, I hope you enjoy!!

—————————————

- Powder would be so good at talking things out/ communicating with people, if theres a problem or someone is doing something that she doesn’t like, powder won’t be rude about it but will get her point across.

-Her skincare routine is effective but simple, no matter the weather she always puts sunscreen on.

- Her favourite fizzy drink is cherry doctor pepper, or sprite.

- If you was in a relationship with powder or just close friends, be prepared to get given so many homemade gifts, like bracelets and little good luck charms.

- Talking about charms, she has so many and brings them everywhere with her, always hiding them in her socks, as an earring or in her pockets.

- Of course she still struggles, but powder is a lot more calmer and can keep her emotions in check for longer, unlike jinx.

- She could easily lie down for hours blasting music while talking to Vi in her hide out, if she has had a bad day you would find her doing exactly that.

- Her faveroute band would be queen, she loves how upbeat the songs are.

- Powder likes collecting perfume, but doesn’t have a set taste with them, one day she would smell like lavender, then the next day she would smell like a sweet shop.

-She has a huge sweet tooth, to her, nothing is ever too sweet or sickly, her favourite meal of the day is dessert.

-I feel like powder would be really intrigued with other cultures and languages and would be more than willing to learn about them.

-Powder doodles stars and hearts on like EVERY page in her notebooks.

- She loves to talk, so if you’re interested, be prepared to get taught a new lesson on machinery and how to DIY stuff .

- Powder and vander sometimes do matching hairstyles, since they both have similar hair and thought it would be funny.

- She has probably found a stray cat and took it home on multiple occasions, each of the cats would have a funky name, and she would take great care of them, but they would all end up running off somewhere

—————————————————————————

[jimsbeetroot]

In spirit of the holidays could you write a fluffy smut with either Jim or Joey (both works too) please, I love your work and you are one of my favorite writers I hope you have a wonderful day! 😁

sorry for the delay!!

snowbound ♱ jim root

warnings! smut!

Snow clings to the windowpane in thick, feathery clusters, illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights. Inside, the air is thick with heat, the scent of pine, whiskey, and the lingering burn of a fireplace filling the room. The only sound—besides the occasional crackle of a log shifting in the embers—is the low murmur of a bluesy holiday record spinning on the turntable.

Jim leans back on the couch, one long arm draped lazily across the backrest. His whiskey glass is half-full, the amber liquid catching the flickering light. He watches you with an easy smirk, all lazy indulgence, like he’s got nowhere to be but here, doing exactly this—watching you curled up beside him in one of his old tour hoodies, the fabric oversized and swallowing you whole.

“You look ridiculous in that,” he murmurs, voice deep and rough around the edges.

You scoff. “Says the guy in reindeer socks.”

Jim glances down at his feet—black socks with tiny, cartoonish reindeer scattered across the fabric. He huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. “Corey stuffed them in my stocking last year. Bastard knew I’d wear ‘em.”

You grin, shifting closer until your knee presses against his thigh. “They’re cute.”

He raises a brow, smirk deepening. “You got a thing for reindeer now?”

You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe just the ones that play guitar.”

Jim chuckles, setting his whiskey aside before tugging you into his lap without warning. You yelp, hands bracing against his chest, but he’s already settling you against him, one arm banded firmly around your waist. His other hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw before he tilts your face toward his.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, teasing. “You wanna sit here and talk about socks, or do you wanna let me do what I’ve been thinking about all night?”

Your pulse kicks, heat curling in your belly. “And what’s that?”

He doesn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His mouth finds yours, slow at first, teasing, the scrape of his beard against your skin just enough to make you shiver. He tastes like whiskey and something darker, something entirely him. His hand slips beneath the hoodie, fingers tracing the warm skin at your lower back, sending sparks up your spine.

You sigh against his lips, rolling your hips just enough to feel the hard press of him beneath you. Jim groans softly, grip tightening. “Fuck, baby.” His voice is all gravel, rough and wanting. “You keep that up, and we’re not making it to the bedroom.”

The idea of him taking you right here, in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, is almost enough to make you keep going—but there’s something about the idea of being tangled up with him under the warm covers, the winter night pressing against the windows, that makes you want to draw this out.

You grin, nipping at his bottom lip before sliding off his lap. “Then maybe we should move.”

Jim groans but follows without hesitation, his large hands gripping your hips as he guides you toward the bedroom. The moment you step inside, he’s on you again—lips insistent, hands greedy as he pushes the hoodie up and over your head, leaving you bare beneath him.

His breath catches. “Jesus.” His hands roam, slow and reverent, over the newly exposed skin, thumbs brushing over your nipples before he cups your breasts, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers. You whimper, arching into his touch, and he groans, dipping his head to capture one in his mouth. His tongue is hot, wet, teasing, his teeth grazing just enough to send a bolt of pleasure straight to your core.

“Jim,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his curls.

He hums against your skin before pulling back, blue eyes dark with need. “Lie back for me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sinking into the mattress, and Jim follows, settling between your thighs. He makes quick work of his shirt, tossing it aside before pressing his body against yours, skin on skin, heat and want.

His fingers trail lower, teasing over your stomach before slipping between your legs. He groans when he finds you wet, slick and ready for him. “Fuck, baby. That all for me?”

You whimper, hips canting into his touch. “Jim, please—”

He doesn’t make you beg. Two long fingers slip inside, curling just right, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. His mouth follows, lips and tongue teasing over your throat, your collarbone, the curve of your breast, until your back is arching and your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing another finger inside, stretching you just enough to make you moan. “So wet, so fucking tight. You gonna let me fuck you, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into his shoulders. “God, yes.”

Jim curses under his breath before pulling back just enough to shed the rest of his clothes. The sight of him—long and hard, the flush of arousal dark against his pale skin—sends a fresh wave of heat crashing over you.

He doesn’t waste time. He kneels between your thighs, gripping them as he lines himself up, teasing the head of his cock against your entrance before pushing inside, slow and deliberate, stretching you inch by inch.

You gasp, nails raking down his back as he fills you completely. Jim groans, dropping his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. “Fuck. You feel so goddamn good.”

He stills for a moment, letting you adjust, but when you roll your hips—silently begging for more—he gives it to you.

His thrusts are slow at first, deep and measured, drawing out every bit of pleasure until you’re trembling beneath him. But soon, the restraint starts to crack. His hands grip your hips tighter, his pace quickening, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

“You take me so fucking well,” he growls, voice rough, eyes locked on yours. “God, you’re perfect.”

You moan his name, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper. The pressure builds, white-hot and all-consuming, and Jim feels it, feels you clenching around him, your breath coming in short, broken gasps.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you shatter, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Jim groans at the feeling, his pace faltering, his body tensing before he follows you over the edge, spilling inside you with a deep, guttural moan.

For a long moment, the only sound is the heavy rhythm of your breathing, the distant crackle of the fireplace in the other room. Jim presses a slow, lingering kiss to your temple before rolling onto his side, pulling you with him.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice softer now, the rough edges smoothed by exhaustion.

You nod, curling into his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. “More than okay.”

Jim chuckles, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Merry fucking Christmas, baby.”

You grin, pressing a sleepy kiss to his collarbone. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

And outside, the snow keeps falling, but in here, wrapped in Jim’s warmth, the night is nothing but heat.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Had to format this weirdly cus I accidentally answered it privately to @soniclozdplove and lost it. Transcript is in image descriptions if this is too fuzzy:

Prev art ref.

Oh boy, the first thing that happens to Macaque straight after that reveal?

A sock in the jaw. From five different fists.

Also a burning toddler catapulting themselves at his groin area.

The only reason Macaque isn't sent straight back to Diyu in that moment is the appearance of the world's best referee;

Kṣitigarbha gave the Mercy Goddess a heads up when they sensed the Six Eared Macaque busting out of the Underworld.

Guanyin: "I plea that you halt your hands." Wukong: "Guanyin?" Macaque, surprised and beaten: "The mercy god?" Tang: (*faints*) Rest of the Gang: (*drop to a bowing pose*) Red: "Hi Auntie!" Tieshan, fan still pointed at Macaque: "Give us a single reason we should let this beast live." Guanyin: "His words and remorse are true. He had not known of the First Egg's existence when he engaged Sun Wukong in battle all those centuries ago." Wukong, still furious: "Whether it was deliberate or not - he still caused the death of ou- my first child! How can I be certain that he won't cause harm to this one?!"

The back and forth probably lasts hours or even days. And soon, Macaque realises that he needs an ultimatum.

Macaque: "Wukong, if there's any way for me to prove that I only wish to repair the damage I've done, please let me!" Wukong: "How?! How could you do anything to prove to me that you won't be a threat to them?!" Macaque: (*pauses in thought when his gaze falls upon the bodhisattva. The irony is almost hilarious.*) Macaque, pained sigh: "When I had stolen the scriptures from your Master, I only wished to free you of your duty to him, and free you from the Circlet." Wukong: "What does that have to do with the egg?" Macaque, kneels before Guanyin: "Bodhisattva, in order to prove my vow to protect Sun Wukong and his future cub; I ask that you give him the means to disable me if I ever become a threat once more." Guanyin: "What you ask for is no light request. You were willing to lie to the Buddha himself to remove the very same astra from your mate. If you take the burden for yourself, I cannot guarantee it will ever be removed." Wukong, eyes widen as he realises what's happening: "Macaque! You're not asking to-!" Macaque, firm: "I understand what I'm asking for. I also ask that both Nezha and Tieshan are taught the disabling mantra. I now understand that they have protected you and our island for far longer than I have. If anyone is to be trusted to monitor my actions, it's them." Guanyin: "What say you, Third Lotus Prince?" Nezha: "I... this is a bit unexpected... but I agree to act as the Macaque's warden. If he's truly seeking forgiveness, the Circlet will disallow him from straying." Guanyin: "And you, Iron Fan Princess?" Tieshan: (*points her weapon dangerously at Macaque's face*) Tieshan: "Do not think of this is an acceptance of apology, beast. If collaring you is what is required to keep Wukong and his child safe, I will accept my part in your punishment." Guanyin: "Then it shall be done. Liu'er Mihou, I now bind you with the Golden Tightening Fillet, so that you may be given the chance to prove your atonement." (*a light envelops Guanyin's hand as they bring it to Macaque's head, the shadow monkey grimacing as he feels the metal band encompass his crown. Wukong is shocked silent.*) Macaque, turns to Wukong with a hopeful smile: "Told you I was serious." Wukong, dumbfounded: "You... I guess you are."

Pigsy promptly asks what just happened, and why is the jerk monkey wearing jewellery now? Tang nearly faints again. Red Son demands to see the fillet in action and Iron Fan decides to amuse him.

Macaque's head is pounding for days afterwards.

Many hours later, with Macaque in the equivalent of a bright padded room, Wukong asks Macaque something important.

Wukong: "When?" Macaque, scratching his sore brow: "When what?" Wukong,: "When did you learn that they existed?" Macaque, eyes droop sadly: "When I greeted the Ten Kings and Kṣitigarbha in Diyu. They assured me that the cub's soul would be returned soon." Wukong, heart skipping: "Returned?" Macaque: "To you. I tried to offer something up to give them back to you right away but... it was out of my hands." Wukong, ghosts hand over stomach: "So you decided to escape when you heard they were coming back?" Macaque: "I did. I don't know where I escaped from, but I managed it. It was so dark and cold... all I could hear was my own thoughts and the winds of the Underworld. Then one day I hear one of the Ten Kings mention that The Monkey King's Cub is to be born soon, and I just saw white and-" Wukong, shushing: "Shhh. You don't have to keep explaining yourself. Though I'm still furious... You're clearly trying to make it better. I pray that the Egg is born in a time I can find myself forgiving you." Macaque: "Me too, peaches. Me too."

As his beloved King leaves the secure room, Macaque's hand switches from the circlet on his brow to the marriage pendant hidden beneath his clothing.

His vow is true. As is still his love for his mate. No matter how much he's hurt him, knowingly or not.

Also he should probably figure out what the heck the White Bone Spirit wanted out of him when she helped him escape the Underworld. He was a bit too occupied to pay attention.

[moonstruckme]

In a week-

Hear me out: Rockstar Poly!marauders and Rockstar!reader???? Like, maybe no one knew the marauders was dating reader till they performed together for an event?????

Thanks for requesting lovely!

join the party

rockstar poly!marauders x rockstar!reader ♡ 1k words

The tabloids had started speculating when too many of your tour dates lined up. It’s only natural that you’d end up spending some time together, in the same occupation and occupying the same spheres, so you were seen with each of the boys at various eateries, at afterparties, on the street. The only problem for journalists was, they couldn’t figure out which band member you were dating. 

They were clutching at straws. A picture of you grabbing Remus’ hand to pull him into a store, an interview wherein Sirius had complimented your new single, a zoomed-in video of James carrying four coffees back up to the hotel instead of three. The speculation was all over the place, scattered and nearly baseless. 

Not after tonight. It had been Lily, the Marauders’ manager, who’d had the idea to take this story by the reins. She’d pointed out that fans were only getting more obsessed with the question of which of the boys you were dating, and with both of you releasing new albums soon, it was as good a time as any to capitalize on that interest. Plus, if you did the big reveal before any magazine could figure it out, it’d be your concert that went viral, not their publication. “More press,” she’d said enticingly, “means more people learning your names and listening to your music.” 

You’d thought the boys would be the ones to have qualms. Remus wasn’t the type to enjoy making his private life public (it was more an unfortunate side-effect of his career than a draw) and James always talked about how keeping your relationship a secret made it feel less like they had to share you with everyone else, but in the end, they got on board with Lily’s scheme quickly. You all agreed that someone was going to figure you all out sooner or later, and if your romantic life was going to be broadcast, it may as well be on your own terms. 

Still, that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous. 

“Loosen up, angel,” James says, prodding at your foot with his as you lie on Remus’ chest, picking through his usually well-guarded stash of chocolate. “This is supposed to be fun, remember?” 

“It’s not the show I’m worried about,” you say, rubbing your socked foot along his mindlessly. “I’m excited to play with you guys, I just wish we could do that without everyone making assumptions.” 

Remus hums in agreement, but Sirius makes a derisive sound, turning to look at you from the mirror. His eyeliner is half done, making one eye seem big and dangerous and the other naked. 

“You two are being so dramatic,” he says. “Of course they’re gonna assume, and they’ll be right. That’s the point.” 

You sigh, tipping your head back onto Remus’ shoulder, and he runs his hand up and down your side commiseratively. 

“It’s going to be a great show.” James tries again to lift your foul mood. You try to look less dismal in return. “You and Sirius’ voices go so well together, the crowd will love it.”

“It’s true.” Sirius smirks at you through the mirror. “And later, we’ll go to the afterparty—”

“Do we really have to?” Remus asks.

James looks sympathetic, reaching forward to rub his calf consolingly. “‘Fraid so, love. Lily says the only way to control the narrative is to talk to people after the show. We don’t have to stay the whole time, but we’ll practically be on the clock.”

“Anyway,” Sirius goes on. “We’ll go to the afterparty, and everyone will tell us how cute we are together, and everyone north of the equator will want to be us and fuck us at the same time.” 

You can tell Remus has something to say about that, but before he can, Lily pops her head into the dressing room. “Guys, the opener is finishing up,” she says, eyes lingering on each of your faces assessingly. “Everyone ready?”

“Just a second…yeah,” Sirius says, finishing his perfectly messy eyeliner. “Ready.”

Lily nods before ducking back out, off to go coordinate light technicians or whatever she does in the rush before shows. James offers you and Remus a hand each, hauling you up. You lick your thumb, wiping a bit of chocolate from the side of Remus’ mouth, and he gives you a half-smile of thanks. 

“We got this,” you whisper to him, and he takes your hand, squeezing lightly. 

“I know we do, sweetheart.” 

Sirius is the only one talking as you all make your way to the side of the stage, the crowd cheering loudly as the opening act wraps up their set. 

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find James attached to it. He’s looking at you with more than the usual pre-show nerves, something more like worry. “Are you really upset about this? We don’t have to go through with it, it’s not too late to tell Lily it’s off.” 

Yes it is, but he’s a sweetheart for saying so. “No, I���m okay,” you promise, reaching up to squeeze his wrist reassuringly. The other band is exiting on the opposite side of the stage, the lights going out. You’re going to be going out there any minute. “I’m excited to perform with you guys, and…and I’m ready to be done with the sneaking around. I’m just nervous, I guess.” 

James slides his hand up from your shoulder to cup your face, your hand still clasped loosely around his wrist. He smooths his thumb over your cheek fondly, eyes gone soft under the faint glaze of adrenaline. “Don’t be, sweetheart. You’re going to do great, and we’ll all be up there together.” He stoops lower so only you can hear him. “Just between us, you and Sirius sound great together, but you can hit notes he never could. They’re gonna love you out there.” 

You grin, and Sirius turns around, eyeing the both of you. “I heard my name,” he says accusingly. “What’re we talking about?”

The lights come back on, and that’s your cue. “Nothing!” you chirp, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stage. “Let’s go.”

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

You know when you read a fic and love it so much that you want to find one exactly like it but different. Anyways, more Alternate Universe fics.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

These first few fics are all by elanev91 on ao3 (ao3 account required).

Force of Habit

Lily's been riding the same train back and forth to work for the last two and a half years and lowkey fancies the guy who sits one row up from her usual seat.

TW: parent death discussed

The fic that inspired the intro (I love it so much you don't understand)

Waffle Wars

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

every day I like you a little mower

Lily was JUST trying to be a good daughter and help her father with his yard work. Too bad the bloke next door is always outside and also the most annoyingly talkative person on the planet.

we could be gigantic series

Lily and James have been best friends since they were kids. Uni, a band, a trip abroad, a few tours and a couple of albums later, things start to change. Half an email fic, half a regular ol' narrative.

it wasn't a pity invite

Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omg i’m so sorry

The one where they’re both doctors - also Northern Irish Lily.

One Direction on the A4

James and Lily are having quite the morning. James thinks a little nonsense might fix it. Or James is a dork and Lily loves it.

Ye Olde Smut Fic

Student recruitment fairs suck, but never fear -- Professor Evans and Professor Potter have figured out how to make it a little less annoying.

Professor AU, Modern AU, Muggle AU. Smutty ridiculousness. Plot questionable.

The tragedy is that they live in America

The Yeast I Can Do

Dr Lily Evans had an absolute shit day at work. Luckily, there's a bakery nearby that offers a course that she hopes will take her mind off of things.

For my fellow jily & wolfstar enjoyers, go do yourself a favour and check out their other works on ao3.

Teenage Kicks by @arianatwycross

It all starts with Lily being hired to be the bands tour photographer, then she actually meets the band and she quickly becomes absorbed by their fast lifestyle, their pranks and the hot lead singer. But its not exactly simple to be crushing on a famous Rockstar, is it?

Foam Hearts by Sleepinghookah (on ao3)

Coffee shop AU. A story in which James and Lily are blind - both in entirely different ways.

I promise he's not a bad person. You've got to read till the end and it'll make sense

When The Skies Are Gray by @athenasparrow

“Carry me?” Lily scoffed, biting her lip so she wouldn’t laugh in his face. Because he was about to do something nice for her. “I’m not some damsel in distress who can’t walk! I just need a bit of cover to make it to the tube.”

OR: two strangers, one umbrella, and a little bit of fate.

Tranquil Solitude (Until You Came Along) by @thelighthousestale

Prompt: I thought I went skinny dipping alone but oh my god this beautiful human is also here naked and I am a fool

All Lily wanted to do was take a nice, quiet swim on a hot day. And then James Potter showed up. And Lily had already removed her clothes for the private swim.

it would have been sweet by @firefeufuego

‘Lily,’ he says in her ear, voice slurred and barely audible above the pulsing bass of the music, ‘is there a reason I shouldn’t marry her?’

She can taste the truth bittersweet on her tongue: Yes of course there is, you colossal, darling idiot, you’re meant to be mine. But there’s the ring on Charlotte’s finger and there’s the one Lily found in Eddie’s sock drawer, and how can she be this person? The one who steals someone’s fiancé on his stag night? That’s not who she is, that won’t be who she is. ‘Of course not, James. You’ll make each other so happy.’ She nearly chokes on the lie as it leaves her mouth, all the more so because most of it isn’t even a lie at all.

For my second chance romance girls

This Hope is Treacherous by @tinyluminaryzombie

Lily Evans and James Potter: Aquentiences, Academic rivals, and now, Friends.

Except "friends" doesn't exactly feel right but Lily's too scared to do anything about it. But as James and her keep acting like more-than-friends she's unraveling with the uncertainty of it all.

OR: Choosing to fall in love can be just as thrilling and terrifying as love at first sight.

The Viscount's Daughter by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The beautiful, vivacious, and decidedly redheaded daughter of the 16th Viscount of Rowena has stolen the heart of young Prince James. Trouble is, she couldn't be less interested in him.

Thought it was abandoned but the author posted a snippet recently so maybe not?

The Queen of the Quills - Jily Edition by @elliemarchetti 

Lily and Petunia read the Queen of the Quills' latest column on James Potter, while the bachelor announces to his friends that he intends to get married.

Quest for Camelot by the incredible @petalsthefish

After the legendary Excalibur sword is stolen, Lily and James embark on a quest to retrieve the lost weapon. Lily searches for the sword to prove she is capable of being a knight despite being a girl. James searches because his falcon, Marlene, is desperate to find it for her master, Merlin. Along the way, they attempt to outwit the sinister Ruber, navigate through magical obstacles, decode puzzling prophecies, and uncover surprising similarities between themselves.

As their journey progresses, they both cannot deny the feelings growing between them with each passing day. Will they make it out of the quest alive, or will one of them perish in the ever-growing darkness that threatens to swallow the entire realm if Ruber gets his hands on the sword?

Based on the 1998 movie Quest for Camelot, but with more plot and less singing

Fearlessly Red also by @ /petalsthefish

Red. It was such an interesting color to correlate with emotion because it was on both ends of the spectrum. On one end there was happiness, falling in love, passion, all that. On the other end was jealousy, fear and frustration. Maybe that's why James thought the nickname fit Lily so well.

or Bodyguard!James/Celebrity!Lily

Get A Room bt @chierafied

The long-awaited trip to London goes awry when Marlene chooses to spend time with her boyfriend - forcing Lily to share their room with none other than James Potter.

you don't know me (but I know you) by @emeralddoeadeer

Lily has a crush, she knows his face well but can only imagine his name; until they meet that is.

About Time by heartablaze (on ao3)

Before his final year started, James Potter offered to be a resident advisor for a first-year dorm. What he didn’t count on was dealing with a confusing redhead across the hall, hospital visits, hallway parties and writing his thesis the night before it was due. Blimey. (Muggle Uni AU)

Unexpectedly in Love by jamespotters_exgirlfriend (on ao3)

When Lily Evans entered her final year of uni, she certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with James Potter. And well, let’s just say love isn’t the only unexpected thing to come out of their relationship.

Far Post by @eastwindmlk

James Potter and his friends are very serious about their pub football league. So, when the new roster comes out and there is a new team on there, an all women's team, he and Sirius set out to investigate.

You Know How To Ball, I Know Aristotle by @wearingaberetinparis

Now that the global superstar, Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Lily Evans and professional football player James Potter are together, they have to juggle the difficulties of a relationship in the public eye. Fresh off her World Tour, Lily Evans arrives at Wembley Stadium one year after James Potter first attended her show, to perform there for one final weekend before heading to the studio to record her next album. Her boyfriend, in the meantime, is off to Germany to play at the Euros for England. How will they ever make their relationship work when Lily is - so the press loves to imply - the least supportive WAG of the tournament?

sequal to And You Heard About Me (Ooh, We’ve Got Some Big Enemies!)

It's been a long time coming and it did not disappoint

I've recommended Three Swipes, You're Out by @naireides before, but I recently came across it's sequel making spirits bright

Sports star James Potter tries to pick Lily up on tinder. Lily Evans, a dedicated not sports fan is offended by the idea that someone thinks she wouldn't recognize James Potter's face. She laughs about it with her friends at a bar, until James Potter, who also frequents that bar, comes over to clarify that nope, he's on tinder, and he's definitely hitting on her.

...

She should have expected it to be hard, dating a celebrity, but somehow she and James make it work.

[callsignvulture]

141 + Graves Music Headcannons‼️🎶

This is based off of a conversation I had with my roommate and boyfriend months ago. Idc if these are accurate- these were just our headcanons! This took me all damn day to write, so I hope it’s…at least decently good!:]

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Bands: Shinedown, Theory Of A Deadman, Seether, Three Days Grace, Saving Abel, Avenged Sevenfold, Disturbed, Drowning Pool.

Top 5 listened to songs: Rx(Medicate), 45 , Just Like You , The Vengeful One, California Dreaming

In his younger years, he definitely would have joined in mosh pits at concerts. If he tried that now? God he’d be leaving out of that venue with a headache, body pains and more bruises and scars on him than when he arrived there. Because of this, he prefers to sit a fair bit away from the stage, but in the middle so he can see the whole stage.

Soap makes fun of him for it, making comments like it, “Ah cannae decide if ye're tryin' tae be somebody's faither, or if ye're just actin' like Price. Come on, LT, get wi' the times. Ye're no an auld man like Price just yet.”

But don’t let that fool you- Ghost has definitely influenced Soap’s music taste. Soap just won’t admit it.

Bonus!: Ghost would listen to…well, Ghost. Why? “‘S my name, ain’t it?”

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Bands: Twenty One Pilots, One Republic, System Of A Down, Måneskin, Limp Bizkit, Green Day, Blink-182, Weezer, Fall Out Boy, The Offspring, Games We Play.

Top 5 most listened to songs: Coffee’s For Closers, Get A Job, Fairly Local , Beverly Hills , What’s My Age Again?

Had a pop punk phase he never grew out of, and was definitely a teenage dirtbag(🥁).

His whole reality breaks when he overhears a recruit call any of the late 2000s/early 2010s bands he listens to “vintage”.(Price and Ghost just laugh and tell me he’s too young to feel that way.)

Really fun at concerts surprisingly. He always tries to be in the pit at the concerts for his favorite bands, and goes WILD if he gets noticed by an artist he really likes.

Price, Ghost and Gaz don’t really understand why he likes the music that he does.

Bonus!: When Gaz listens to Kanye, he’ll blast Taylor Swift just to fuck with him. He doesn’t like Taylor Swift, he just likes to see Gaz get frustrated. “You know she’s only popular ‘cause of ‘im, right Soap?” “Ah dinnae care. Ah juist like te disturb yer peace, Gaz.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

Bands: Arctic Monkeys, Rihanna, The Neighborhood, Kanye West, The Weeknd, Shaggy, Dr.Dre, Kendrick Lamar, Hozier, The Cardigans, Beyoncé.

Top 5 most listened to songs: It Wasn’t Me, Reflections, Love The Way You Lie, Knee Socks, Dark Times

God he’s a certified lover boy AGH-

Imagine: Gaz waking up in the early hours of the morning, sunlight on his skin, looking fine as hell…and “It Wasn’t Me” is playing on the radio AAAAAA-💕(like a damn scene straight out of a movie I swear-)

Gaz likes going to concerts and like Soap, will try to be front and center, but he’s not nearly as energetic and wild. He’d more than likely mellow out with some fruity drink.

Before Gaz joined 141, back when he was an officer, he would definitely make whoever was his ride along listen to Rihanna or Beyoncé in the early hours of his shift. Now when he’s on missions with 141 and he’s in control of the radio, he’s more likely to play Kendrick Lamar or Kanye West, much to Ghost and Price’s annoyance. Soap is the only one who doesn’t complain.

Bonus!: Surprisingly, Gaz is open to listening to any kind of music, even if he doesn’t like. Once sat down with Ghost in the common room and let Ghost show him the music he listened to. Obviously, he wasn’t a fan of it, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Sorry, ‘s just not my style. But thanks anyways, Lieutenant.”

Captain John Price:

Bands/Artists: Guns ‘N Roses, Metallica, Kiss, AC/DC, Twisted Sister, Ozzy Osbourne, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Rolling Stones, Mötley Crüe, Ramones, Post Malone(there’s a reason for this, stick with me-)

Top 5 Most Listened To Songs: Seek & Destroy, Rock You Like A Hurricane, Dr.Feelgood, Sunflower, Street Fighting Man

Headcanon(Thanks to my boyfriend): 141 had a movie night. Soap and Gaz wanted to watch Into The Spiderverse, which Ghost and Price agreed too(reluctantly). Price really liked the song Sunflower, and after the movie, Gaz and Soap sat down with Price and showed him more of Post Malone’s music. He’s not a huge fan of the rest of his music, but he does really like that song.

Price’s music taste hasn’t changed since he was younger, still listening to the same bands he listened to in the 80s. Definitely gets somewhat upset when he sees someone his age wearing a shirt of the band but can’t tell him any songs by the artist.

Doesn’t go to concerts anymore unless the team wants to go. Would prefer to go to a bar and listen to music while getting drinks with his mates.

Bonus!: Price is the type of guy to look at people who don’t listen to his kind of music and ask, “Oi, lads, who sings this?” “Eh...Ah havnae a clue...Guns N Roses?” “Metallica, Cap’in?” “No, ‘s definitely Kiss.”In reality, he already knows who’s singing it, and they’re all wrong.

Commander Phillip Graves:

Bands/Artist: Morgan Wallen, Tim McGraw, Blake Shelton, Bruce Springsteen, Florida Georgia Line, Carrie Underwood, Luke Bryan, Big & Rich, Jason Aldean, Sam Hunt, Luke Combs, Toby Keith, Alabama, Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Top 5 most listened to songs: God’s Country, Save A Horse(Ride A Cowboy), She’s Country, Dirt On My Boots, Should’ve Been A Cowboy.

What can I say? Southern man loves country music.

He’s not allowed to go to concerts anymore due to the fact that he has gotten drunk on several occasions & had to be escorted out:(

He had a crush on Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood at some point in his life and I won’t explain how I know that.

Makes the Shadows listen to his playlist when out on missions to the point where most of them could easily identify what country artist is who.

Bonus!: Absolutely hates any non-country artist who tries to make country music. Like when Beyoncé released Texas Hold ‘Em, he was absolutely livid.

[mcbeaverxd]

Evil in the neighborhood.

Fem! Yandere neighbor × fem! reader.PartI

Trigger warning!! : illegal filming, murder, serial murders, foul language, gore, chase.

You were walking home from work, your whole body aching and humming as if a locomotive had run over you.. Aaaaaaah... How tired you were. you wish you could get home and lie down in a warm bath. On the way, you plugged your headphones into your phone and turned on "Satan Prayer" by Ghost. Your favorite band. And the song itself pleases your ears, long-suffering from your boss's shouts. You were looking at your feet when you walked, so you didn't notice the person walking in front of you.

"holy fffuu-"

This person turned out to be an amazingly tall albino girl. With Asian features. She has curly white hair down to her collarbones, red eyes (the right eye is closed for some reason), and almost white skin. There are many scars on her thin face - one on the bridge of her nose, the second and third cross the right side of her mouth, and the fourth... The fourth curls from the jawline to the hairline. Her body is covered in scars and muscles. She is dressed in a black T-shirt and white sweatpants, with black stripes on the sides. Her appearance is truly frightening. Her red eye stared coldly into your soul. Only now did you notice a rather large sports bag in her sinewy hand. A slight expression of fear and nervousness appeared on your face.

"u-uh.. Sorry ma'am..!!"

And then you jogged past her. And while you weren't looking, her cold gaze changed and became more interested and even embarrassed. Okay, that's too much. When you ran to your apartment, you found a freight truck at your entrance. And from there, movers were moving furniture right into your entrance. And when you had already approached your apartment, you discovered that they were moving furniture right into the apartment opposite yours. Ahh... if only it were some nice-looking young man.. You jumped in fear when huge, and really hot palms lay on your hunched shoulders. And from behind your back, a familiar voice was heard, which echoed frighteningly in the stinking entrance.

"Oh, and hello again, my little sparrow. It turns out we're neighbors."

You turn around, already grabbing your pepper spray, and it turns out to be that creepy girl you crashed into a couple of minutes ago!

"Eeek!! Why am I some kind of bird?! And what's more, I don't even know you, and you're already calling me that....."

"Hmm, I called you sparrow because you're timid and nervous. And because your height isn't that great. And you're not very muscular either."

A grin appeared on her pale, thin face as your face began to turn red. Either from anger, or from embarrassment. And then you just turned around and slammed the door in her face and went into your apartment.

Throwing off your shirt, jacket and tie, you are left only in a bra, pants, and socks that seem to already smell of suffering. You quickly wash off your makeup, open the first bottle of beer and turn on the news... Holy shit. The 9th prostitute in your city has already been killed. And on the wall in the hotel at each crime scene there was a smile and 2 letters drawn - H.C. What a horror... And then you think why they introduced a curfew, and finally police patrols began to walk in public places... It was not for nothing that you got a secondary education and went to work in an office... It makes you shudder. Each of these "night butterflies" had their stomach ripped open, and each was hung by their own intestines... disgusting. You switched the channel on the TV to another one, some Turkish series was on. And to the sounds of Turkish swearing you passed out, and no wonder. After all, that's how you slept by the window.

You woke up because of the flash of a camera from the street aimed right at your window. Of course, you understand with your tired and rotten from constant drinking and sleepless from watching porn and true-crime videos that many are interested in the lives of people from the first floors. But since you are not a loser, and you do not want anyone to see your pale/dark/tanned beer belly. So you grabbed an empty beer bottle from the trash, threw on an old white T-shirt with the logo of the group "Metallica" with flip-flops and jumped out the open window screaming. Without holding back your expressions.

"DO YOU HEAR YOU BASTARD, I'M GOING TO PUT THIS PHONE IN YOUR ASSHOLE BITCH!!!"

You rushed at this mysterious photographer, and managed to throw a bottle into this weirdo's hand. The phone broke, and fortunately your photos disappeared too. This weirdo ran away, but you picked up a stone from the asphalt and threw it at him... her....??? You don't know. And this time you hit the target right on target. The "photographer" fell to the ground with loud curses, because the stone hit him/her right between the shoulder blades. And with a sense of accomplishment, you jumped back into the window, and this time the beer was finished. But, your night adventures were not only seen by you. But also by your mysterious, but future "lover"...

Hehehehehehe, I hope you enjoyed this part, expect a sequel this week or next week <3 Love u all <D

Description of this bro.

[theseshipsshallsail]

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE (MY LOVE)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63061414

Notes:

Happy Valentines Day, Peaches. Let get these two called by the same surname, shall we? ❤️

Virtually cloudless, a vivid, turquoise sky paints a winsome canvas beyond the Hotel Alexandria’s wrought-iron terrace. A dappled haze spills warm and inviting throughout the lavish suite, and basking in the sights and sounds of early-morning Egypt, Elio ignores the persistent protests of his traitorous bladder as he focuses instead on a trio of gulls soaring back and forth above the ancient city’s bustling port.

He’s loose-limbed and achy; two states thus synonymous with blissfully well-fucked. Straddling the Maginot line between lazy, bone-deep contentment, and feeling positively filthy for the peeling remnants of Oliver’s semen still prickling his inner thighs; robbing him of the tranquil suspension in which he’s languished these past twenty minutes. 

Ordinarily, there’s no rest for the wicked - not in a home filled with meddling housekeepers and ten-year-old brothers who’ve yet to master the art of knocking - but Elio smiles nonetheless as he eases his legs to the side of the mattress, pinches his tired eyelids to assuage his grumbling headache, then savours the gratifying pull of overtaxed muscles as he eases himself upright: each twinge and spasm born of a ravenous need the night before.

Next to him, Oliver’s a vision of Praxitelean proportions. Blond hair mussed from the constant carding of Elio’s fingers. Bunched cotton sheets barely clinging to his deliciously-rounded derriere as he sleeps the sleep of the recently debauched. It’s covetous, almost - the play of sunlight and shadow across his striking silhouette - and Elio can’t help the recurrent thrill that zips inside him when it glints off the simple gold band adorning his left hand.

An identical twin to his own: exchanged during a private ceremony in his mother’s beloved orchard. The two of them pledging themselves - body, mind, and soul - beneath an elegant chuppah of trailing orchids and pale-pink hydrangeas.

Across the room, their crisp, linen suits lie heaped atop Oliver’s Tourister: a somewhat respectable fate compared to the matching silk ties currently bound to the slatted headboard. There’s a leather belt draped over the vintage lampshade. A trio of socks dotting the Persian rug. Where the fourth disappeared to, Elio can’t recall, but neither of them were in the mood to unpack after their short-haul flight from Malpensa, and tiptoeing to the discarded suitcases he selects a slightly wrinkled dress shirt from the bottom of a teetering pile. 

Oliver’s, he realises, judging by the size, but the cocktail of fragrances that tickle his senses -

The sweet-orange spiciness of his favourite cologne. 

The earthy hints of beeswax from the Havdalah candle Little Ollie guarded so zealously.

The stale notes of perspiration, even, imbuing the unbuttoned collar.

- has him easing his arms within the baggy sleeves, regardless.

A quick trip to the bathroom alleviates his first problem - a scandalous lack of caffeine presents a second - and Elio’s just done pulling up a fresh pair of boxers when the other man stretches clear down to his toes, yawning his way into reluctant consciousness.

“Buongiorno, marito mio,” he says with a wink, because while the Italian legal system might not recognise their union, Elio’s too-full heart sure as hell does. “How’s the head?”

Oliver grunts. “Cursing my hubris,” he replies, dragging a palm over his face as Elio unearths some sparkling mineral water from the complimentary mini-bar. Micol, it transpires, could drink them both under the table, but self-preservation saw them swapping their Dry Martini’s for Aperol Spritzes in fairly short order. “And you?” Oliver rolls to his back, mimicking his playful tone. “Any regrets?”

Elio takes a restorative sip: carrying his own nascent hangover like a badge of honour. “Besides letting Jesse teach me the Cha-Cha Slide?”

“Besides that.”

“None at all,” he says with carefully crafted nonchalance. 

None that were in their power to fix, anyway, and while his father’s presence was sorely missed, his pride and approval suffused the moving service.

“I beseech thee by Zeus, the watcher of the harbour,” he quotes then, admiring the fifteenth century citadel through the arched, Palladian windows. “It’s hard to believe the old lighthouse once stood here,” Elio adds, breathing in the brackish breeze from the shoreline. “We should take a stroll, don’t you think?”

“Cavafy’s apartment doesn’t open ‘til noon,” Oliver agrees, wincing when an immense cruise ship blasts its horn. “We could have pastries on the esplanade, beforehand? Compare their apricot juice to Mafalda’s?” 

“Le blasphème!”

Along with the Great Library, itself, the Grecian wordsmith’s former home was now a literary tourist trap; an ad hoc museum that featured prominently in Oliver’s Poseidonian vigil of 1992.

“I was on sabbatical,” he’d explained a few weeks prior; several glossy travel brochures strewn about the kitchen table. “The proverbial ribbon cutting was November sixteenth.”

“My birthday.”

“Your birthday.” A beat. “I took it as a sign.”

Only the makeshift gallery felt drab and desultory, Oliver’d revealed later. The unnerving silence borderline suffocating amidst the pastiche furniture most likely salvaged from some abandoned storeroom. It reminded him of the famous poem, The Afternoon Sun. An especially poignant verse in which Cavafy recalled the grievous loss of a lover. But as Elio watches the local street vendorsunload their wares, he understands Oliver’s desire to revisit the melancholy scene. 

To experience it from a brand new perspective: no longer obfuscated by a life unlived. 

“What our esteemed housekeeper doesn’t know, can’t hurt her,” Oliver says then, skimming his knuckles just shy of his burgeoning erection, and all thoughts of decoding the unfamiliar coffee maker are duly ousted as he circles his cock with an idle grip. “Come back to bed?” 

Elio places the plastic bottle on the sill. “And you call me a dissolute…” 

“I call you a lot of things,” Oliver replies, meeting him smirk-for-smirk. “Strong-willed… dedicated… insatiableto a fault -”

“Cazzate…” If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. “Need I remind you…” Elio begins, propping a knee on the springy mattress. “...which of us kept the other up past three?”

Oliver captures his forearm. Presses a kiss to his fluttering pulse. “Need I remind you whose refractory period is practically non-existent?”

Elio snickers. “I’m forty. Not dead,” he says, so preoccupied by the raspy tongue tracing his life line he doesn’t even notice his waist’s been seized until he’s twisting backwards into the overstuffed pillows.

“I dreamed of you,” Oliver murmurs, clean-shaven chin grazing his heaving sternum. “The taste of your mouth… the blush on your cheeks… the bossy little demands when I’m buried to the hilt…”

Elio lets his legs spread-eagle as he proceeds to journey southwards. “Connard…”

“Precisely,” Oliver counters, paying particular attention to the metal studs adorning his pebbled nipples. “Over and over,” he insists, a cartographer, taking the lay of the land. “Pinning your wrists and grinding my hips. Thrust after thrust after thrust…" 

Elio shivers at the promise of what’s to come. “You're a tease, mon amour.”

“If the size nine fits…” Oliver retorts, tossing his underwear towards the slowly spinning ceiling fan.

The resultant slap of skin on skin is like music to his ears, and the sticky pearls of arousal that daub Elio’s naval have Oliver groaning hoarsely as he reaches his swollen glans. Licking. Sucking. Fondling his heavy balls until they draw up tight, only to hold him on edge by pushing three fingers into where he’s still slick and tender. 

“Look at you,” Oliver praises, tapping a deft ostinato against his thrumming prostate. “You’re exquisite, darling. Bellissimo. I don’t tell you enough.”

“Nonsense,” Elio dismisses, biting the Oxford’s cuff to muffle his moans. “You tell me every day.”

Compared to his brain, his physique, he thinks, is vastly inferior, but that doesn’t keep him from riding those skillful digits like the Palio di Siena. Each blessed touch pooling heat in his belly as the pleasure spikes, breaking over him like choppy waves on the docks outside.

Unsurprisingly, Elio loses himself in the blind rush of completion, yet when he finally blinks back to awareness Oliver’s peering up at him, dark-blond hair sticking to his sweat-damp forehead. Damn-near effervescent, he’s the epitome of smug congratulations, so Elio pulls him closer as he scrapes his teeth along the tendons of his neck, earning a plaintive whimper when he grasps the velvet steel of Oliver’s shaft, guiding him to his waiting entrance.

“Vieni dentro…”

Oliver shudders. “You’re sure?”

“Please,” he begs, thumbing the birthmark on his freckled shoulder.

He fills him so nicely, is the thing, and no matter the years since their unorthodox reunion, Elio wonders if he’ll ever reconcile just how well they fuse together. But then Oliver starts to move - measured as molasses, obstinate in his claiming - and it’s all desperate pleas and whispered encouragements from there on out.

Babbled into benevolent kisses.

Strangled into euphoric whines. 

They’re devastating - the gossamer gasps Oliver makes whilst rocking inside him - yet somehow the epitome of the bigger-than-this, more-than-us-ness that defines their complicatedhistory. 

Encompassing everything they are, were, and ultimately will be until Elio’s chanting his name like a berakhah. 

Vice-like arms wrapped securely around Oliver’s torso. 

His entire perception narrowed to the tremulous points of contact. 

Shamayim, he thinks, finding heaven in the relentless friction, and it’s only when he’s reduced to another come-soaked mess that Oliver chases his own release; cornflower-blue eyes shining brightly as he follows him to the stars.