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marvelouslizzie · 1 year

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Same Lonely Night

summary: Your roommate Bucky Barnes hears you pleasure yourself and moan something he never thought he would be into. That forces him to face his feelings for you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 2.6K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n

A/N: This is the second part of A Lonely Night. This time we are seeing Bucky's POV and what comes next. You don't have to read that part to understand what's going on but if you want to, you can find it on my blog/masterlist. I planned this as a 3-part story and I hope I'll maintain my inspiration and motivation to write the last part. Wish me luck!

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. You are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

Bucky’s head is resting on the shower wall while the water is running down. His flesh hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he doesn’t move it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he’s trying to calm himself down.

He really had no intention to listen to you. He was just watching the news mindlessly, but his enhanced hearing turned into a curse the moment he heard you taking a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but focus on the noises you made. That’s when he started to hear the way you were touching yourself. Every stroke, every rub, every muffled moan…

He knew what you were doing was private and he had no right listening to it, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. How could he? You were so needy and subby. Even in your fantasy, you were begging. He wondered what you were imagining. Who were you begging? Your crush? Maybe you have been seeing someone.

That thought had never occurred to him before. You were always in your element, working, chilling at home, doing whatever you enjoyed in your spare time, and occasionally going out with your friends. You never brought someone home. Not yet at least. So he never questioned if you were seeing someone or not. Even if there was someone, he wouldn’t know, and that thought suddenly hurts him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your moans bring him back to reality. If you are seeing someone why are you so needy? Are you just that greedy or has it been that long? He’s certainly hoping for the latter. That’s something he can relate to, and it's probably been much longer for him. That’s why he can’t stop listening. That’s why his cock is painfully hard. Normally he would just remove himself from the house, and give you some space instead of creeping like this.

“Oh please, fuck me.” He would do anything to be able to do that. Anything. Just to be in that room with you, taking his time exploring your body and satisfying your needs. Even just the thought of it drives him crazy. “Fuck me, daddy, please.”

That surprises him on so many levels. He never thought you would be into that. You look pretty innocent. He wouldn’t assume you would have such dirty fantasies. Fucking an old man… Are you into older men or is it just a little fantasy you are playing? Maybe you are seeing someone old. Maybe that’s why your mind goes there. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what’s going on in your private life, and every word that comes out of your mouth confuses him even more. It creates more problems, but the biggest one is, when he heard daddy, his dick twitched with excitement. So it makes him question himself, too. Is he into younger women or is it because you were the one saying it? The latter somehow seems more likely. Yet all of that doesn’t change the fact that he’s listening to you and getting hard just because of it.

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He hears how your head falls onto the pillow while your whole body is shaking, and how much you are enjoying it. He knows this is his cue. He should just remove himself from the living room so he won’t get caught with a hard-on. He doesn’t miss a beat. Quickly, he turns the TV off and runs to the bathroom.

That’s how he ended up here, head pressed against the cold shower tiles, thinking about the way you said daddy over and over again. He is trying really hard not to give in, but his cock is aching with need. A part of him thinks he should just give in. It’s not such a big deal. Everyone masturbates. You just did. Three fucking times! That thought makes him groan. If you can come three times just by masturbating,how many times could he make you come?

So it’s not even a conscious decision when he starts to stroke himself when he starts thinking about making you come. He can’t stop himself from imagining how you would look under him or on top of him. It doesn’t matter which position. He just wants to feel you. Your moans are echoing in his head while he caresses the top of cock. Just one stroke and it makes him tremble. He can’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. He can’t remember the last time his whole body heated up like this, just at the thought of someone. But you aren’t just anybody. You are you.

Maybe it’s because it has been ages since he had sex. Perhaps it’s because of his growing crush on you. He tried to control those feelings, thinking he was too old for you. He thought you would never look in his direction. Why would you? You are intelligent, beautiful and so cute. Like all these qualities aren’t enough, you are always so thoughtful. You always ask if he wants your leftovers, or if he needs help with anything. He knows he wakes you up at night sometimes. His nightmares are loud, but you never complained. Not once. You always let him watch the news even though you would rather watch something else. You even lent some books to him. They were in such good condition he couldn't believe his eyes. It was like reading a brand-new book. So yeah, he really tried to act like it was nothing but a silly crush, but after hearing the way you moan daddy he can’t stop himself anymore. It was as if you awakened something inside him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Should he take his time or just get over with it? He keeps his fingers loose, stroking himself up and down slowly while his head still rests on the tiles. Even with minimal effort, it feels so good. He gently cups his balls, massaging them and imagining you are the one doing it. You are the one touching the most intimate parts of his body. You are the one ready to satisfy his growing need.

“Oh fuck.” A moan escapes his lips. The shower is running and you don’t have a super hearing like him, so he knows he’s safe. Still, it feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. He shouldn’t be touching himself. He shouldn’t be moaning like this, yet you are so beautiful and needy… He already wanted you before hearing how you sound in bed, but now he wants you even more. He wants to be the one to bring you pleasure. He wants to be the one that satisfies all your needs so much that you would never need to touch yourself. Unless it’s to tease him.

He’s feeling guilty. So fucking guilty, but there’s no way he could stop now. Imagining you does something to him. There’s this primal need in his abdomen, building up.

His fingers tighten around his cock, moving faster than before, and he presses his lips together, trying not to make a sound. He keeps rubbing on that one sensitive part of his cock and finally, he starts coming with a choke. He keeps stroking himself, thinking it will be over soon, but it doesn’t end. There’s so much come that it surprises him. His hands continue pumping and his come paints the bathroom tiles immediately. He takes a deep breath when he’s done, trying to collect himself.

It feels like his head is spinning. He had been masturbating for quite some time, but he doesn’t remember the last time it felt this good. He opens his eyes, trying to ground himself, and all that shame he feels comes rushing in while looking at the mess he made. He groans loudly and then reaches for the showerhead. It doesn’t take long for him to clean the shower and then himself with the thought of you is still on the back of his mind. He is soaping himself, scrubbing, and then rinsing while trying to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just masturbation. It’s normal.

Of course, he knows how normal it is. It’s like breathing, eating, or drinking water. His body needs it so he gave in, but listening to you and touching himself while thinking about you… That’s where he crossed the line. He knows it, yet he can’t bring himself to wish he never heard you. He might be a creep or a pervert, it doesn’t matter. Your voice, the way you sound while coming, and the way you touch yourself are stacked in his memory forever. It’s something no one can take away from him.

Sighing, he steps out of the shower. Drying himself doesn’t take too long. When he steps into the living room, all that welcomes him is silence. You are still in your bedroom, God knows doing what. The TV is off, and nothing seems to have moved since he ran to the bathroom. So he’s safe. You haven’t heard or suspected anything.

Quietly, he goes back to his room, finds something to put on and just looks in the mirror. Is he really too old for you or is that all in his mind? He doesn’t look older than 35, but that doesn’t change when he was born.

What if you are into that, though? What if you really like older guys? That would change everything, wouldn’t it? You would like that he’s older than you. Maybe you would even call him daddy, just like you did in your fantasy. That thought makes the blood rush back to his cock, making him feel the arousal running through his veins once again. Like he didn’t masturbate in the shower a couple of minutes ago.

He knows his anatomy by now. He knows he’s able to get hard again pretty quickly thanks to the super soldier serum, but he hasn’t been this horny for a long time. Especially not because of the thought of someone, but the thought of you calling him daddy…

Jesus… It makes him so hard!

Sighing, he drops his whole weight on the bed and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to touch himself again. It’s for the best if he stops thinking about you and focuses on something else, isn’t it? He tries to think of something, anything that could take his mind off of you, but nothing, absolutely nothing is more interesting. Nothing he tries to focus on lasts. His mind goes running back to you, imagining how you would look the moment he would push himself inside you. How your mouth would open, how you would throw your head back, and how wonderful it would feel.

That thought does it. It breaks his resistance. All the effort he put into not touching himself again goes out of the window, especially once he imagines you saying “Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder.” His hand goes under his boxers, slowly toying with his cock. It feels like he didn’t touch himself today, and the need is even stronger now. After a couple of strokes, he realizes he can’t move his hand properly like this, so he pushes down his shorts and boxers at the same, creating some space for movement.

He looks down at his cock, already oozing with precum. His flesh hand moves on top of the head and smears it all the way down, making it easier for him to play with himself. He sets a steady rhythm, testing what feels right, but his precum isn’t enough to make it enjoyable. That’s when he reaches for his nightstand and takes out the bottle of lube. His metal hand works fast, opening the bottle and putting a generous amount on hisnhand, before he puts it back and starts to touch himself.

Now it feels much better. His hand works seamlessly from the top to the bottom, repeating the same movement a couple of times. He tries to get lost in his fantasies but something feels off. He isn’t sure what it is because what he’s doing is enjoyable. Something is not enough. Maybe he should work faster. So that’s what he tries. His hand starts to move faster on his cock, but that’s not helping.

He’s pretty sure this is what his body wants especially because he’s still rock hard. Should he be more gentle and take his sweet time? That doesn’t seem to work, either. Does he need a tighter grip? Maybe, but he can’t do more with his flesh hand. He glances at his metal hand for the first time since he started. He never used it to pleasure himself before. The flesh looked and seemed more appealing than metal, yet right now it’s not enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

He reaches for the lube once again. This time he uses his flesh hand and pours some on his metal one as he tries to convince himself that this is not a bad idea.

He goes right back into touching himself, just with his metal hand this time. It feels different, really different, and surprisingly okay. It doesn’t feel as warm. The texture is completely different yet it somehow works. His fingers start to work faster, his thumb brushing over the head and, thanks to the lube, it starts to feel much better than he ever expected. His reluctance slowly fades away and he decides to test how fast he can move his metal hand and how much his cock can actually take it. As he paces up, pleasure starts to build so unexpectedly. He takes a deep breath but keeps moving his hand. His head is now thrown back while with the flesh hand, he cups his balls, gently massaging them.

“Oh god…”

He doesn’t realize that he's just said that out loud. He just keeps working on himself, letting his whole body relax under that pleasure. He really didn’t intend to focus on you this time, but here you are again, in his mind. The image of you on top of him… You with all your charm and cuteness, touching him, making him feel this good while he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks them until you can’t take it anymore. It drives you crazy, so you beg him to fuck you. Just like you begged while touching yourself.

“Please, please, please… I really need it, please…”

He can hear it so clearly like you are here and really begging him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that really happen.

“Anything you want, doll.”

His fingers move like they have a mind of their own. He knows he should slow down a little, make this one last a bit longer because it feels amazing, but his metal hand isn’t listening to him.

“Oh fuck, fuck.”

He knows he’s about to come. He can feel it. It’s right there, just a few strokes away. He loses his damn mind imagining you under him, split open, and getting railed by him. God, that would feel so fucking good! You looking at him with those big beautiful eyes and begging him for more… Then your name slips out of his lips like it’s the most natural thing to say at that moment.

Right when he’s about to come, a loud noise comes from the living room. Like something has just got shattered into pieces. His eyes fly open. He grabs his shorts and puts them on quickly, tucking his freaking erection away, and opens his door to see you standing there with an oversized T-shirt on. The glass you were probably holding is on the ground, but you don’t seem to care about that. You are looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit! She heard me.

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arieslost · 7 months

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cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @anathedivine @xfuckoffx @architect-2015 @violetiss3lfish @havaneselover08 @paigeworlds @whatever7justchillin @xoredmoonlightxo @dovieloovie @totowolffstablexoxo @maddie-bell @lalisgs11 @rrrraaaalllluuuu @formulasportworld @madisonbidaddy @anedpev @estherapz-blog @jess-wither @loveyatopluto @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @lou-larcher5 @clearlyabi @fizzpopsnap101 @fluerlaurent @mcmuppet @positiveaspirations @notturlover @crazymofo-96 @chanthereader @apollo-axolotl

#full fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic

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little-hermit-crab56 · 11 months

Text

I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

#writing tips #nanowrimo #story writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing #writer

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chvoswxtch · 9 months

Text

slumber party

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: while en route to a case, the four of you let off a little steam.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, a lil angst, derek morgan's smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: let's be real. you didn't come here for a plot, and I didn't write one. enjoy this slutty vision I had in the shower. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The jet was quiet apart from the sporadic sound of pages being flipped and Spencer’s occasional soft noises of either being intrigued or perplexed regarding details of the case, deciphered only by their volume and pitch. Hotch had read the same paragraph on the report at least seven times, and there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between his tired eyes and unresponsive brain. Letting out a quiet irritated exhale and diverting his attention to the top of the paragraph yet again, a soft noise caused his ears to perk up.

Finally looking up from the report for the first time in half an hour since he originally sat down, creases furrowed in the midst of his forehead when he glanced towards the other end of the jet and caught sight of you. From where he sat, all he could see was the back of your head since you seemed to be facing the back of the seat you were in, which he found extremely odd. But as he craned his neck, he noticed a familiar pair of hands on your hips and instantly clenched his jaw.

“Son of a bitch.”

The second Hotch shot up out of his chair, Spencer finally tore his own eyes away from the report and turned his head to follow Hotch’s angry march down the aisle of the jet with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Now that there were no obstructions in his line of sight, Hotch had the full view of you sitting topless on Derek’s lap with your skirt bunched up around your waist, grinding your hips down in a slow but sensual rhythm. Derek’s hands were firmly grasped on your hips to help guide your movements, and his face was buried into your exposed chest.

“Morgan you greedy fucker.”

The sound of Hotch’s angry voice booming in the comfortable silence caused you to immediately tense up and stop moving, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. He gripped a little tighter onto your hip and gave your ass a light smack, pulling his head back to look at you with that dazzling smile of his that could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No no no no, keep goin’ baby girl. Don’t worry about him. You just keep doing what you’re doing…that’s it.”

Derek leaned his head back against the seat, looking over at Hotch with that same charming grin on his face. His warm chocolate brown eyes were glazed over with lust and had been eclipsed into half moons of pleasure.

“Sorry Hotch, she just looked too goddamn good.”

“What’s going on back-oh.”

As Spencer took his place beside Hotch, his eyes immediately went wide at the sight he was met with. He seemed to be completely mesmerized by the erotic flow of your hips while you languidly rode Derek’s cock as you sat topless on his lap. While Spencer was bewitched by the spell of your hips, Hotch was furious. The stern look that seemed to be his default expression was unaffected by the show taking place before him.

“Morgan, you know the rules-”

“Come on, Hotch. We still got another hour before we land. Lighten up a little. You know, some stress relief would do you a whole lotta good.”

Before Hotch had a chance to respond, Spencer was already stepping forward and unbuttoning his cardigan.

“You could’ve at least asked us to join.”

Derek let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your smooth thighs as he flexed his hips upwards to match your pacing.

“Hey, you were the one more invested in exactly how many trees there are in the Acadia National Park than you were in the beautiful woman on the plane, pretty boy.”

“Well if I had known-”

Letting out a frustrated huff, you stopped moving and placed your hand over Derek’s mouth before turning to look at Spencer and Hotch over your shoulder.

“Boys, you know I hate it when you argue. It makes me dry up.”

Spencer dropped his forgotten cardigan on the chair behind himself, his attention solely fixed on you again. In the dim lighting of the plane, you could just barely see that the green flecks in his honey eyes had deepened into a wicked hue. He ran his fingers gently through your hair before cradling your face in one hand and starting to unbuckle his belt with the other, all while looking at you and dragging his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, we can get you wet again.”

“Not if you’re all standing around bickering instead of fucking me.”

Hotch wasn’t giving in, no matter how badly he wanted to. It was late, he was exhausted, he was beyond sexually frustrated, but above all he was fucking stubborn.

“There is one rule on this fucking plane. When we are en route to a case, we are focused on the case. Playtime is for after.”

Brushing Spencer’s hand away from his belt, a smirk tugged across your lips as you looked up at him and began to unbuckle it yourself, which only caused him to bite down on his bottom lip seductively. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at Hotch, you could visibly see just how pissed off he was, but as your gaze wandered down south, you could also see the outline of his impressive cock starting to strain against his pants. Sinking your teeth into your own bottom lip, you looked up at Hotch through your, flashing him a sultry smile while you teasingly unzipped Spencer’s pants slowly.

“Aw, come on, Aaron. If anyone needs some relief, it’s you. Just come have a little fun with us.”

The hardness in Hotch’s glare wavered only slightly at the provocative sound of your voice. It was an unrelenting struggle to keep his eyes focused directly on yours and to not let them roam over your body. If he let his gaze wander for even a split second to see the way your nipples were peaked from the cool air in the cabin, the way your soft hand was caressing Spencer’s cock through his pants, or the way your ass moved against Derek’s lap while you fucked him, he would break. While Derek began to flex his hips upwards a little harder to fuck up into you now that there was no longer a reason to stay quiet, you were pulling Spencer’s cock out of his briefs and leaning over to take him into your mouth.

Before he could watch you wrap your lips around Spencer’s tip, Hotch quickly looked away and stormed off towards the other end of the jet, dropping into his chair and loosening his tie with a hardened scowl on his face.

“You’re all getting written up.”

“For what?”

Derek's protest was only faintly heard since Hotch’s blood was now pounding in his ears like a high school marching band, and throbbing in other places.

“Insubordination.”

There was a slight growl to his voice as he barked back at Derek, not even bothering to look up as he angrily began to look through the case file again, but he couldn't focus. No matter how hard he tried, all he could hear was Derek and Spencer praising you in tandem as they each took an offering from your body, and the soft noises of gratitude that flowed from your lips. It was absolute fucking torture. He thought about palming himself through his pants, just to get a little reprieve without alerting any of you to his moment of weakness. But he was so fucking angry with all of you, he didn’t even want to give in.

His mind was a jumbled concoction of juxtaposed thoughts, none of which had anything to do with the case in front of him. Hotch wasn’t sure why he was so pissed off right now. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had joined in, it wasn’t like the four of you hadn’t done it before. It certainly would’ve put him in a better mood. But this was a big case, and Strauss had been on his ass more than usual lately, and things at the BAU had been so chaotic that the team was getting split up just to keep up with the influx of cases coming across JJ’s desk.

Maybe it was a mistake not to send you with Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. The air always shifted when you were alone with him, Reid, and Morgan. It was inevitable. Maybe that’s why he ordered you to come with him, because even if he didn’t want to consciously admit it, subconsciously he knew that this was exactly what he needed. He needed you, and the peace that you brought him.

The sharp sound of a smack landing on flesh caught his attention, and Hotch looked up to see that the three of you had moved to the bench directly in his line of sight. Derek had his head thrown back as pounded into you from behind, occasionally smacking his hand against your ass while he grunted about how tight and wet you always were. Spencer held your hair back while he fucked your mouth, watching you as he moaned praises of what a good girl you were. Your face was obstructed by Spencer’s back, but Hotch could hear how much you were enjoying yourself, and he couldn’t look away.

As Derek and Spencer came in unison, Hotch gripped onto the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned stark white, and he inhaled a sharp breath that he let out slowly through his nose. Gritting his teeth, he glared down at the blur of black ink on the pages, listening to the sound of your angelic laughter and kisses being exchanged between the three of you. Why was he doing this to himself? Why hadn’t he just fucking given in and joined?

While Spencer was sitting on the couch with his pants around his ankles, head back against the window with a blissed out look on his face, Derek snaked his arm around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your neck before whispering into your ear.

“Do me a favor, baby girl. Go take care of grumpy over there.”

Letting out a quiet giggle, you turned and brushed your nose against Derek’s before kissing him softly.

“Already ahead of you, D.”

Discarding your skirt completely, you dropped it in Spencer’s laugh and planted a quick kiss to his lips before sauntering down the aisle of the plane, completely naked. Hotch glanced up when he caught the smell of your familiar perfume and looked at you with a halfhearted glare. All you could do was smile at the sight of his thick brows furrowed and the permanent scowl that he always seemed to wear. You both knew he couldn’t stay mad at you, and he didn’t even put up a fight when you made him lean back against his seat so you could sit on his lap.

“Why are you so mad baby, hm?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you ran one of your hands through his dark brown hair, giving a gentle tug at the root which earned a quiet grunt from him. As you leaned in to place featherlight kisses along his jaw, you could feel his body physically relax, as well as how much his hardened cock was straining against his pants. But despite the giveaways from his body, Hotch wouldn’t budge. He didn’t make a move to touch you, and he didn’t speak. He was always the hardest of the three to break, but you knew exactly where his weak points were.

“Oh, you don’t wanna talk, huh? That’s okay. I’d prefer to do something else with my mouth right now anyway.”

Gently biting down on his earlobe, you felt his thighs tense up beneath you and a quiet grunt sound from his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. As you got off his lap, you slowly got down onto your knees in front of Hotch and unbuckled his belt. Since he was already in a sour mood, you decided to skip the teasing, and honestly you were so turned on yourself that you didn’t have the patience for it.

He was trying so hard not to give in while you were pulling the leather of his belt out of the buckle, and even as you were unbuttoning his pants and tugging down the zipper, he was trying to appear completely unbothered while looking at the case files. But the second he felt your luscious lips wrap around the throbbing head of his cock that was slick with pre-cum, he completely lost it.

Letting his head fall back against the seat, he closed his eyes and his lips parted as he focused solely on the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue sliding against the underside of his sensitive tip. In that moment he completely forgot whatever he was mad about. Every single coherent thought in his head vanished, and all that was left was you.

You don’t mind when he slips his hand into your hair and grips at it roughly, or when he starts to push his hips upwards to seek out more. It was rare that Hotch ever gave in to his selfish desires, and you were all too eager to let him. The sight above you was one you wished you could frame. His dark brown hair was messy from you running your fingers through it and his eyes were peacefully screwed shut. There was a twinge of heat covering his cheeks, and his lips were parted further as heavy pants and soft whimpers escaped. Those little noises only make you want to steal more of them from the man that was normally so stoic and closed off.

All of a sudden, Hotch roughly pulled at your hair causing you to moan around him. He grunted while leaning down to slip his hands under your arms, pulling you up from your knees and shoving all the reports off the table in front of him carelessly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up onto the table, and you immediately spread your legs wide for him to slot through. Without wasting another second, Hotch pulled you towards the edge of the table and easily slipped his thick cock inside your drenched pussy. Both of you moaned simultaneously at the contact, and he only faltered for a second before he started to aggressively snap his hips against yours.

Faintly, you can hear Derek whistling from the other side of the plane and the sound of him clapping as he calls out to Hotch.

“There he is. Come on, Hotch. Give us a show.”

When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, Hotch wrapped one of his large hands around your throat and lightly squeezed. You can tell he’s still frustrated by the feral way he’s fucking you against the table, but you can feel just how badly he needs this release. Sneaking one of your hands down to play with your clit, you only get away with it for a few seconds before Hotch roughly smacks your hand away and tightens his grip on your throat. He replaces your hand with his own and starts to furiously rub quick circles over your sensitive clit, tearing a sharp moan from your chest. You can feel how close he is already by the way his rhythm starts to falter. When he speaks, his voice is so low and husky that it almost sounds like a growl.

“You insatiable little slut. You haven’t come enough already? You think you deserve to come again after the way you’ve been acting?”

“Aaron-”

“Shut up.”

The only thing you can hear over the obscene sound of Hotch’s thighs smacking against your ass with every powerful thrust and the lewd squelching of his cock disappearing over and over inside your tight cunt is the dark chuckle that sounded from Spencer before he spoke.

“Uh oh, someone pissed off Daddy.”

The way you moan Hotch’s name nearly has him combusting right there. When he starts to rub your clit harder, your jaw becomes unhinged and hangs open, but nothing comes out. You can’t speak, you can’t even make a sound. Hotch grunts as his pace becomes even more fervent and brutal. He was fucking you with everything he had, using your body to expel every ounce of pent up frustration, and you were already ascending into the clouds.

“You wanna come so fucking badly? Then do it.”

The tightening of your cunt around his cock sends both of you over the edge, and both of your moans seem to echo in the small space of the cabin. Hotch continues to fuck you wildly through his orgasm, gripping onto the edge of the table to steady himself. Once he starts to slow down after emptying himself inside of you completely, the blissed out smile that replaces the frown on his mouth makes you giggle, and it causes him to finally open his eyes and look down at you with an arch of his brow.

“What?”

“Better?”

Hotch just stares down at you for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes before he finally gives in, his lips parting into that wide grin that you love so much but rarely get to see. Taking a moment to catch his breath, a light chuckle leaves him as he gazes down at you with softer eyes this time and brushes your hair away from your face gently.

“You know, the whole point of me being your boss is you’re supposed to actually listen to me.”

“You of all people know I listen very well.”

The sultry tone of your voice and the implications behind it caused Hotch to smirk, and you can feel the effect it has when you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against your own and gave your ass a light smack.

“When you’re being a good girl and not such a brat.”

A soft noise of surprise left your lips when he smacked your ass, and you giggled while grabbing his face in your hands to pull him in for a soft and slow kiss.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Rolling his eyes, Hotch reluctantly pulled out of you with a soft hiss and helped you down from the table. He ran one of his hands through his hair and took another deep breath before tucking his softened cock back into his pants.

“Alright, everyone back to work.”

“Wait, everyone got to fuck her but me, that’s not fair.”

Hotch glanced down at his watch on his wrist before looking over at Spencer, shooting him a pointed look when he caught the slight pout on Spencer’s lips.

“We’re landing in twenty minutes and we still need to prep.”

As Spencer began to protest, you walked over towards him and placed your hand on his chest, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t worry, Spence. I’ll share a room with you tonight, and you can fuck me all you want.”

Spencer’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas, but Derek and Hotch immediately began to protest as they shared a look before staring at the two of you with looks of frustration.

“Whoa whoa whoa-“

“That’s not-“

Spencer wrapped his arms around you to pull you in, bending down to kiss you deeply while grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze tightly causing you to giggle. He nipped at your bottom lip before turning to look at Hotch and Derek with a smug smirk.

“Don’t worry. Unlike you two, I know how to share. Maybe we can all have a slumber party.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @avencol

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occamstfs · 7 months

Text

Those Holi Days

It's a tad early but so is the Spring, Here's a Holi inspired racial TF ! -Occam

Robert is beyond nervous about going to the city’s Holi celebrations. His best friend Pranav begged him to come and have some fun but Robert absolutely hates sticking out which he is sure to do. Pranav swears there are always other white people there but Robert remains unconvinced as he looks through his closet getting ready. Shuffling through he sees dress shirt after dress shirt of a wardrobe meticulously designed not to stand out.

He sighs as he throws on a white t-shirt as recommended by his friend, best thing to wear for the chalk. He sighs thinking of how confident Pranav is as he ensures his shirt sits so no one can see his small gut underneath it. Feeling a pit start to grow in his stomach about going he rushes out the door before he convinces himself to stay in.

On the brief walk over he fights with himself in his head weighing pros and cons. He does not like how intimate it is sure to be, Robert does not like crowds or parties. He read up on Holi of course and this is sure to be quite a hectic event. He starts writing up paragraphs on his phone to chew Pranav out for getting him out of his comfort zone to go to something he’s so sure he will not enjoy.

As he approaches the park he hears some kind of Indian pop music blaring from speakers set at the center of festivities. He must have been quite absorbed in his phone as only now does he notice how thick the air has become from the colored chalk in the air. His heart freezes in his chest as he sees he has already arrived at the outskirts of the Holi block party.

As Robert looks out across the crowd however, he can’t hold back a smile seeing just how much fun just about everyone is having. Technicolor powders are flying through the air creating a storm of vivid blues and dazzling reds above the crowd. Dust begins to settle in Robert’s hair as he looks for Pranav at the event.

He doesn’t immediately find his friend, although to Pranav’s credit there are a not insignificant amount of other white guys present in the park, some of them even seemingly dressed in traditional kurtas. He even sees another one of his friends, John, out there seemingly having an absolute blast. John was always a quiet guy but is almost moshing in the middle of the colorful crowd. Robert almost starts to get his attention before second guessing himself, when did John start growing a beard? He was always the clean cut type but under the blue powder covering his cheeks there is some clear stubble. It almost looks darker than the hair on his head even which must from the powder staining it.

Robert continues watching his friend have a blast smiling as the jubilee feels almost contagious before realizing, shit? Was he supposed to bring chalk for this? Pranav didn’t mention anything- As soon as his mind turns to Pranav however, orange powder is slammed on his head as if it were an Easter confetti egg and his vision is obscured.

“Gotcha Robert!” Pranav shouts in a jaunty manner having successfully snuck up on his dear friend. He ruffles Robert’s hair shedding the powder down onto his clothes as he wipes the powder off his eyes as he switches into his prescription sunglasses. Pranav continues to shout over the music as Robert cleans himself off, “you’ve survived your first color attack friend! How are you liking the festivities so far?”

Finally able to see again Robert blushes as he is standing far closer than usual to Pranav to hear him over the crowd replies, “well I haven’t done much so far but it does seem like a lot of fun!”

Pranav smirks, hearing his friend inch closer to agreeing that he was right. He puts his arm around his friends shoulder and continues, “Ah! Sounds like a chance for me to say told ya so is approaching, my friend!” He starts to point around showing Robert all the stands and activities going on around the park though Robert subconsciously tunes him out as the din of the crowd rises in his ears.

He’s not anxious? Red chalk splatters the pair, Pranav laughs as Robert is suddenly feeling adrift in his own head, but not uncomfortable. It’s almost like he's sluggish which should be off putting at such a high energy event. He should be incredibly anxious right now. But all he can focus on is the raucous revelry of the crowd ahead and Pranav’s arm resting on his back, even this intimacy should be causing him alarm.

The hair of Pranav’s arm brushes Robert’s neck and he stops just sort of moaning in response. Keeping quiet he continues to find his head increasingly groggy. Looking towards Pranav’s face as he sees his friend beam talking about pani puri as he wipes chalk from his beard. God, he’s just so hot, why can I not be more confident like him.

There’s a beat before Robert out loud says, “what the fuck,” catching Pranav off guard. “Oh sorry Rajert? Did you-”

“What did you call me?” Robert asks quickly.

Pausing, worried about his friend, “Robert? Your name?”

Now embarrassed as he was clearly ignoring the friend who invited him to take part in his own culture he quickly apologizes to Pranav and imploring him to continue. Which he does, “I was just saying, I told you that there would be other white dudes here dosti!”

Fighting off his fogginess to keep up Robert agrees, “Yeah you were right! I just saw my friend uh? My friend, uh, Janat?” He stares confused at the crowd scanning it to see his friend once more as Pranav glances down at Robert with a sly smile, eyebrows raised in questioning, “Janat is Bengali, Robert?” At this moment Robert finally sees him, no surprise he didn’t recognize his friend who in the few minutes since seeing him he has ripped off his shirt.

Janat who Robert would have sworn was a guy even more milquetoast than himself is now absolutely covered in chalk as it creates patterns down his now muscular back, sweat creating rivets of dye only seeming to increase the vascularity. Robert stares at a man he will never know as John again, as he creates a torrent of dust in the air, twirling t-shirt he must have ripped off above his head. The crew cut that once rose above his head has grown into a thick ponytail as a moustache pushes itself into existence. Robert cannot look away from his friend as he shows off his muscular body as powder continues to flow through the air. He tosses his shirt to the floor keeping his arm raised as he starts waterfalling some drink from his friend. Robert’s eyes trail down his veiny bicep to see his now-exposed pits. Knowing Janat constantly shaves to keep body looking tight, he watches as hair begins to poke out from under his pits.

Pranav, almost out of jealousy, speaks up to get Robert’s attention away from their friend, “Ah yeah Janat is a real party animal huh? But we don’t need to do all that eh dosti?” His beard, tanned skin, and of course red Holi powder hide his blush as he blocks Janat from view and starts rubbing Robert’s shoulder. Robert in turn looks back to Pranav and smiles. Before hearing his Pranav speak up once more “Woah Rajert! When did you start growing out your own little beard! It looks nice” Both men move their hands to feel Rajert’s face as he freezes up feeling stubble on his hitherto perpetually clean shaven face.

Rajert reaches for his phone to see his reflection but doesn’t even need to as he sees his new appearance in his lockscreen. Now a picture of him and Pranav, which is in and of itself odd, he sees the two of them standing at a pier looking like he always does. Save for the stubbled face that will now always greet him. But, that can't be right? He’s blonde? Or at least brown right? His eyes dart again to his face in the photo and sees not only does stubble now darken his cheeks but the hair rising above his head is similarly black.

Rajert reaches to his head, once more shaking powder out as he tries to rip a strand of his hopefully blonde hair free. Pranav shouts seeing this, “Woah yaar! What are you doing? Is everything alright!?” The two of them see a long strand of midnight black hair between Rajert’s fingers. Pranav suddenly worried that Rajert is entering a state all too familiar starts to try and lead him away from the crowd before he starts hyperventilating. “I’m so sorry Rajert! I was wrong, this is too much for you here, let's go get you some shade!” Pranav grabs his hand and starts dragging him out of the crowd.

Rajert knows the crowd isn’t the problem though. He was having a good time, but something happened? It was something about his hair right? He struggles to audit why he has suddenly frozen up as he is pulled through the crowd. There is a buzz in the air as the music and cries of joy continue to crescendo. Rajert feels a warmth in his chest, as well as in the hand now clasped by Pranav. He smiles as he is led and looks at the arm pulling him feeling safer by the moment.

Neither of the two notice as Rajert’s arm begins to look starkly similar to the one dragging him. The hand begins to grow in Pranav’s grasp as the thin blonde hairs dotting Rajert’s arm begin to grow thicker and darker. It begins to spread up his forearm, curling as they look and feel remarkably like the arm that brushed his neck oh so recently. Neither notices though, as Rajert remains firmly in his own mind. Stuck with the image of Janat dancing in the crowd, he seemed so free. His shirt above his head as he shows everyone around just how much of a man he is. Rajert’s eyes start to glaze as he thinks again about his pits, man. I wonder what he smells like?

“Chod!” Rajert shouts as he again feels his mind drift to such horny thoughts. Neither man noticing as Rajert has just defaulted to a Hindi swear. Pranav in his part is just concerned about his friend. Yes, just a friend. He leads Rajert to sit against a tree, hiding how much tanner his arms have gotten in this short trek as he checks in. “Yaar? Do you want me to go get something to drink?”

Rajert nods as he responds, his throat feeling dry, easily attributed to the significant amount of chalk inhaled. “I’m a little lightheaded Pranav.” Concern is immediately painted across Pranav’s face even thicker than the dye as he plans to run off to get his dear something to drink and eat, it must be a blood sugar thing right? “I’ll be right back Rajer!” He watches as Pranav quickly makes his way through the crowd in search of the cure for his condition as his mind begins to swim even deeper.

Rajer watches floes of Holi powder stream above the crowd, trying to distract himself from how weird his clothes feel against his body now that he’s sitting down. He feels his sleeves pushing against his biceps as if he’s ever lifted something heavier than a textbook. He pulls at his shirt to relieve the tightness, catapulting more dust into the air. His eyes glaze over as he watches the colors dance in the air. Across the pavilion Pranav nervously watches Rajer, easily noticing that he seems to be filling out his clothes much better. He reprimands himself for thinking with his dick while his friend(?) is in such a state, though this is the Festival of Spring after all with all that implies.

Back at the tree Rajer feels a thought burst through the fog to the forefront of his mind which he immediately puts to words. “Ah, this reminds me of my first Holi.” But no, this is my first Holi right? He sifts through his memories to assure himself. What he finds inside is impossible.

He remembers being a young boy traveling into Delhi for the festivities. He remembers seeing the colors dancing in the air as millions of hands toss dye in the air. As he does he feels his feet begin to grow in his powder covered shoes.

He remembers moving to the states with his older brother in late December. Feeling totally apart from hsi culture until that magical day in the Spring. Finally having Pani Puri once more with his community as he did his best to keep the chalk off the dough, laughing with his brother. He kicks his shoes off while he still can as he sees his larger feet start to rip apart his chalk-stained socks.

“Offo!” He shouts as he strains to pull off his socks, revealing tanned feet covered in thick black hair, his soles already wider than the shoes he removed in the nick of time. Well it is certainly not his first time being barefoot at Holi! He laughs remembering how crazy he has been in the past! In fact, he was barefoot at the big Holi festival in college, the one where. The one where he met his yaar, Pranav?

At this Pranav returns and upon seeing Rajer now barefoot he forgets the dire state that he was left in. Instead Pranav eyes his thicker thighs straining the jeans. His calves seem to be sticking out farther than they should, Pranav wonders why his yaar has put on clothes so tight on a festival day before suddenly finding the most strained part of Rajer’s clothing, his crotch. It’s almost like he’s stuffed something in his pants. Pranav quickly changes the subject to avoid creating a similar bulge for all to see, “have you been working on your tan Rajer?”

Rajer smirks before answering, “Well only one way to see!” As he struggles to get his larger body out of the small shirt he put on this morning. Unable to even raise his arms without tearing he instead opts to rip the shirt off in its entirety. As soon as his sweaty skin meets the air it shows the same dark brown tint that Pranav sees when he looks in the mirror. Pranav stares at Rajer’s tight muscular torso as he flexes to show off. He doesn’t notice as Rajer’s eyes quickly darken from the light blue eyes once magnified by his glasses, to a brown dark enough that they may as well be black. “See! Same as I’ve always been Pran!”

Pranav reaches down to help Rajer to his feet, finding him far heavier than when he was dragged by Pranav to this spot earlier. With a heave he gets Rajer up, only to find he is now looking up at him. Suddenly Pranav finds himself adrift in his own mind, the sight of the man before him immediately causing his cock to pulse in his pants sa he tries to reconcile what has happened. Seeing the confusion Rajer asks, “haan Pran? Everything alright?” Pranav hears a thick accent that he would have sworn Rajer didn’t have this morning. “Rajer, you are feeling better now?”

Rajer stops his flexing as he takes this in and answers in perfect Hindi, “did you call me Rajer? ‘S a weird pet name for Rajesh yaar.” Rajesh reaches to wipe chalk off the face of a man he can only describe as his love as he notices the growing bulges in both their pants and smirks, asking in Hindi. “Ah! Do you want to find our own way to celebrate the spring Pran?”

In a reversal of this morning Rajesh puts his arm across PRanav’s shoulders and puts some of his weight on, which Pranav now struggles to carry. This knocks him out of his stupor, “Chod Raj you are so heavy!” Rajesh smirks and moves behind Pranav, pressing his bulge into his lover’s back as he whispers into his ear in Hindi, “why don’t we head back to our place eh? Maybe we could have Janat over?”

Pranav blushes at the idea and pushes Raj back as he eyes him hungrily. “Well we should certainly get out of here before your cock bursts your zipper off.” The two begin to head off back towards their now shared apartment, their pace increasing as the excitement in the air continues to get them going.

Pranav looks up at Rajesh’s chalk covered smile, “Glad you came after all eh yaar?” As they enter their apartment careful not to get chalk over everything they own they finish the little disrobing they have left to do as Rajesh replies in his true mother tongue, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.” As they forcefully begin smear chalk between their bodies, creating new colors as they celebrate Holi in a far more primal way than dancing in colored powder.

They feel each other as if it were the first time they had fucked, not knowing it truly is. Rajesh feels his body continue to grow as he pushes Pranav into their bed. Pranav runs his hands across Rajesh’s powerful thighs as his hands are increasingly impeded by ever thickening hair as he prepares for another round of celebrating new beginnings.

#male tf #masculinization #mental change #racial change #race change #male transformation

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pascallllllll1 · 2 years

Text

Simple pleasures

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Reader doing Pedro’s make up and cute shared moments, really just wanted to write something sweet!

Word Count: 835

Warnings: smutty references? nothing else that I can think of, really just fluff lmk if not!

Pedro hears the pads of your fuzzy slipper covered feet thumping his way accompanied by the familiar clanking of your bulky make up bag and quickly finishes the paragraph of the novel he’s currently reading before nearly folding a corner or the page to mark where he left off. He’s sprawled out with his left leg on the couch and the right stretched out hanging off the side, Pedro lifts his chin up meeting your lips that now hover him the both of you smiling into the soft peck.

“Hi baby.” He grins up at you.

“Hi.” You gush back at him. “I love you P.” God you could just swoon looking into those gorgeous brown eyes. You feel blessed to be able to witness the spark in his eyes he gets when looking at you, beautiful and only for you. Always full of love and admiration, the man worships you like a divine goddess and makes you feel like the most precious woman in the world.

“I love you too princess.”

Next thing he knows you're climbing into his lap and situating your make up carefully off to the side of you both. Grabbing the primer you gently begin massaging it into Pedro’s face while simultaneously planting gentle kisses as you did. The little moans and noises of satisfaction leaving Pedro’s lips were beginning to distract you from your previously sought out task.

“You’re so good to me hun.” Praised Pedro.

“Only because you’re so good to me.” You sent him a sly smirk and wink. Pedro squeezed your hips in response then massaged up your sides and Pedro being the little shit he is, let his hands roam under your baggy t-shirt tracing his fingers back up your side and under your breasts before dropping his hold on you back down to your hips with a final squeeze.

“Are you trying to hurt me by putting this shit on?” He asks.

“No.” You shift your focus from his forehead to his eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “Now quiet while I blend out your foundation!”

“Sí! Sí! Mi amour, go back to work.” He laughs out. Holding his gaze you sweetly tell him;

“Be a good boy.” Which of course is responded to by your boyfriend sending you a knowing look and wink, slapping the side of your ass playfully.

***

Finishing up the final touches you sit back and grin at the result of your handy work like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in wonderland. Pedro definitely seemed to enjoy himself if his current touch dumb state is anything to go by. You’ll have to remember to give him a facial as well the next time you do one of your own, he really enjoys gentle massages and touches and you just so happen to love touching him. A win win, what can you say your boyfriend is a huge fan of physical touch. Most of the time he doesn't even clue into himself engaging in it, sort of like it’s just on instinct when he reaches for you.

“You look so good babe!!!” You squeal, sitting yourself up on your knees hovering over Pedro.

“Oh ya?” He leans up to capture your mouth into a passionate kiss. His hands move from your sides to cup your jaw and fist into your hair. On instinct you slowly begin to lower yourself back down on Pedro and roll your hips against his bucking ones adding more pressure with each grind until you’re both stopping to catch your breath after a few heated seconds pass.

“Ya.” Pedro leans forward and then dramatically gives you a big peck on the lips. The both of you pause to take the other in for a moment, fondness for each other readable plain as day across your faces.

“You’re so special to me (Y/N).” He whispers while looking at you, straight at you. The you he loves unconditionally and has waited over 47 years for and opens himself up to completely. Closing your eyes you rest your forehead against his;

“Pedro you’re my whole world, you mean everything to me.”

“I love you so much baby.”

“I love you too.” You breathe out emotionally.

“Now…” pulling yourself to your feet you hold your hands out in front of you offering Pedro a hand up. “Would you like some help removing all this gunk?” Accepting your help his joints crack and pop as he rises and straightens himself out, simultaneously sending you side eye for snorting at the sounds of his ageing body.

“Yes I would, thank you.” He answers. The both of you head to the bathroom to clean your man up for the night where he seductively whispers in you ear, his warm breath sending shiver down your spine in excitement;

“I might be getting older but I can still keep up with you baby, you keep me young.” And with that he slaps your ass handing you the make up remover.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers.

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors.

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning.

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court.

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out.

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot.

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going.

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media.

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one.

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism.

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy.

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks.

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent.

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it.

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek.

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him.

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat.

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you.

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you.

You’re not ready for that.

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you.

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him.

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen.

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks.

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking.

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand.

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in.

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt.

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his.

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping.

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek.

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

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reyla-the-black-wolf · 5 months

Text

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angsty fluff?, angst, hints of anxiety, anxiety attack, nightmare

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I had planned to (accidentally deleted a part of the story ups) but finally did it! And I recommend you listen to "Remember that night" by Sara Kays and "The night we met" by Lord Huron.

Anyway, enjoy reading! 😙

Part 1 ⎮Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Six days. Six days had passed since the incident in the conference room. Six tough days and not a single glimpse of him. No word, no letter, no message of any kind.

The water of the Sidra washed up on the shore in mesmerising waves, each time stealing a bit more of the glittering sand. Sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface, magically illuminating the facade of the River House.

The hammock I sat in swayed gently in the afternoon breeze and, thanks to Elain, the sun didn´t bother me too much. My aunt had planted two Illyrian oaks in our garden the year I was born, providing shade now that they had grown from tiny sprouts into strong, sturdy trees. As I became older, I found my favourite reading spot underneath them. They stood a few feet from the River House and were the perfect place to relax and simply be.

A piece of bark crumbled onto the pages of the book I was holding right now. `Feathers and Fire´ was written in large, ornate letters on the leather-bound cover. Nesta had borrowed me one of her novels to keep me company, as I had spent the last few days mostly by myself.

I give up! After reading the same paragraph for the third time in a row, I finally slammed the book shut. I had really tried to concentrate on the story in the last hour, but my mind had drifted off more than once. And always back to the same place.

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I was in shock. Or so I thought, as I couldn´t think clearly. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so loudly that all of Velaris must´ve heard it.

Mate. Eris Vanserra was my mate.

I couldn´t believe it. I mean, he doesn´t even know me?

The beige sofa under my legs felt too soft, as if it wanted to pull me into a hug and never let go. And the ticking clock on the opposite wall made my ears twitch in annoyance, so I decided to get up and pace around the living room, trying to quiet my mind. I was massaging my temples to ground myself a little when a soft touch stopped me in my tracks. Small, gentle fingers starting to trail along my shoulder in a soothing rhythm.

„Sweetheart, look at me, please.“ My mother´s calm voice made me turn to her. „Everything´s going to be all right.“ She radiated pure love. „Whatever happens next, I want you to know you´re not alone. I´m here for you, okay, honey?“ It helped slow down my racing heart a little, but not enough. I sincerely hoped my father and his brothers hadn´t beaten Eris to death just out of anger.

Just as I thought of them, three men winnowed into the living room. With long strides, my father rushed towards me, some of his darkness still clinging onto him, and cupped my face with both hands. „Darling, are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?“ He asked worriedly as he inspected me for any injuries, whatever he was looking for.

I withdrew from his grasp, spun around once to show him I was fine, and put on my most reassuring smile to calm his worries, making his tensed muscles relax. „I´m so sorry. I never wanted you to see this.“ Regret seeped into his voice. „But…“ He paused, visibly struggling to find his next words. „Did the bond snap for you too?“ The question caught me entirely off guard, as I thought he was angry with me, trying to argue. I could almost feel my family holding their breath, dreading my answer. Silky hair fell around my face, casting tender shadows on my features as I shook my head. A quick glance at my parents and I knew they were having a silent conversation. Sweat formed on my palms as I unconsciously clenched my hand into a fist. With each passing second, an unpleasant feeling returned to my stomach, making me want to throw up.

It spread even further when my father turned his attention back to me, and my heart sank as I noticed the sudden change in his expression. A completely blank canvas. The mask of a High Lord. Others probably wouldn´t see through his masquerade of deceit. But I could. I did. I had studied his features over the years, every time he put it on. How his jaw tightened just an inch, noticeable only to the trained eye. How his eyes shimmered in a more vibrant shade of violet. I´d seen him in his role so many times that I´d learned to watch out for him. The real him. Not the High Lord, but my father. He kept his face sealed, but I could see what he hid behind that mask. Fury over Eris. His worry. But the strongest emotion was his love for me.

„I want you to stay away from him. Or even talk to him.“ Someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs and punched me in the guts. I hadn´t been braced for what was to come. My pulse skipped a beat and the blood in my veins began to boil. He can´t do this! Voices shouted in my head and a lump formed in the back of my throat. But why? I didn´t even know Eris, even though he was my mate. I shouldn´t be so disappointed. He is practically a stranger.

At a loss for words, I stared at my parents. „We don´t want to make decisions about your life, but Eris is a... complicated man.“ my mother interjected. You mean dangerous.

„Wait, Eris is your mate?“ I flinched and turned around, only to spot my brother hidden in the darkness with a shit-eating grin on his face. „Finally something interesting is happening.“ he chuckled, earning him a slap on the neck from Cass. „Hey!“ he cried out as my father shot him a warning glare before continuing his lecture. „Darling, listen. We only want to protect you and make sure you don´t get hurt. And Eris is not good company. He has proven that several times in the past. So please believe us when we tell you to stay away from him. We have our reasons.“ And what are they? A knot tightened in my stomach when I heard Azriel whispering from behind: „Especially after what he did to Mor.“

But he is my mate! Even if we don´t know each other well, don´t I have the right to figure out what´s happening between us? My mind screamed at me. Say something! Anything! You know you can! I forced my thoughts to shut down. We would not have this conversation now. Fight back! But I didn´t. I understood that my parents were trying to protect me. They were angry, no doubt, but with the love in their eyes, I couldn´t argue against them.

So I only looked up and nodded, giving them a coy smile, even though it felt wrong. So terribly wrong.

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This moment had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Although I´d agreed not to approach Eris, somehow I still hoped he would talk to me. Maybe to explain when and how the bond had snapped for him.

Starlight? Az is waiting for you in the training ring.

Oh, right. I looked at the sun, which was already sinking deeper into the sky. Uncle Az had asked me yesterday if I wanted to train with him. We usually met at the same time every week to train, but over the last few days he had become more careful around me, giving me more space.

I quickly stowed the book away, not wanting Nesta to get upset if something happened to her beloved book. Changing into my fighting gear, I winnowed to meet Azriel.

„Faster!“ Azriel shouted, lunging forward, but not fast enough. I sidestepped his punch to the right, and in the brief moment his defence was down, I landed three swift blows to his ribs. He groaned in pain and tried to sweep me off my feet in one smooth motion. Just as I was about to dive again, my back hit the sandy ground, Truthteller at my throat. A sweaty Azriel lay on top of me.

He pulled me up, brushing the sand from my clothes. „That wasn´t too bad, but you´re less focused today.“ A questioning look crossed his face for a second as he looked down at me, then it returned to his usual straight expression.

I opened my mouth slightly as if to reply, but shrugged instead and walked towards the edge of the training ground, breathing heavily. Az only threw a knowing look in my direction. He knows. He knows how I feel.

We had been training for about two hours and I didn´t know how my muscles were still able to keep me standing, but anyway, I was grateful for them when I winnowed us back to the River House for dinner.

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

After a quick shower, I now sat opposite to my brother at the wooden table eating dinner and it was truly a symphony for the senses. Wine glasses clinking. Knives scraping against plates. The aromatic scent of grilled steak and vegetables wafting through the room as my family engaged in a huge debate about who had the biggest wingspan. All I could do was smile at the silliness of it all and feel it seep into my soul.

My father stroked my back lazily beside me, probably to keep calm, as Nyx started throwing peas across the table at Cassian, who dodged them. It really was ridiculous. „Seriously! A little decency, please!“ Amren hissed at this `display of strength´. Mor chuckled, „They´re Illyrians. Do you really think their egos would just ignore it if someone with bigger wings came along?“ My mother nearly choked on her wine at this comment, earning an amused look from her husband. „Can we all just calm down a little before the whole dining room is decorated with pieces of food?“ A quick, stern glance around the table from the High Lord and everyone resumed eating, interrupted now and then by a few giggles.

Ten minutes had passed, and the others had just finished chatting about upcoming events in Velaris, when Amren apparently decided to break the comfortable silence. „So y/n. Has anything been happening with the Autumn Heir lately?“ The wicked smirk on her face made her look like a cat that had caught a mouse to play with. All of a sudden, the room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. I felt my father stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. „Amren.“ Azriel warned, a low growl escaping his throat. „What? Just a sincere question.“ Not impressed by his threatening face. Not in the slightest.

Of course, the incident with Eris had spread around the River House throughout the last few days, fuelling rumours, but the others hadn´t said anything to me yet. I should have guessed that it was only a matter of time until the tension would blow up.

I think I might throw up. I certainly wasn´t in the mood to talk about it with my family. Not today. My blood froze as I gathered the strength to look into Amren´s cold, steely eyes, which were fixed directly on me. She didn´t even flinch when my father shot her a terrifying glare that would send shivers down your spine.

Words began to flow into my mind, begging to be heard and a familiar feeling crept through my entire body, making my nerves go blank. It felt like I couldn´t breathe.

„Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.“ she said, making me feel even more nauseous. „Amren, don´t.“ Everyone had stopped breathing by now. „You don´t have to answer her question, darling.“ My father´s hand darted out to graze my fingers, but I pulled back at the sensation. „You are his mate y/n, aren´t you? Must be desperate to know why.“ „Enough!“ Pure darkness collected in the corners of the dining room, ready to consume everything. I´d never seen my father so pissed off. „Why would you say such a thing?“ Mor uttered. „Exactly! She´s my sister, I´m the only one allowed to make fun of her!“, Nyx joined in. „I´m in the mood for some trouble.“ she responded honestly, taking a sip from her wine glass, completely untroubled.

Everyone began to talk over each other, making it difficult to distinguish the individual voices. Tears welled up in my eyes as I covered my ears. The noise was becoming too much to bear. I sniffled, holding back a cry as I stood up and took a few steps away from the table. My chair scraped along the floor, causing everyone to turn around to me and all the shouting stopped. The tears began to trickle down my cheeks as my mother noticed them first, „Sweetheart, we´re so sorry.“ She stood up too. „We didn't mean to make you cry.“ Mor tried to reassure me, guilt clouding her voice. Everything felt too overwhelming. Leave. Walk away. Get out of this situation.

„Starlight, come here. It´ll be fine.“ He took a few steps in my direction, but I quickly held my hand up in front of him to keep a distance between me and my father.

„Y/n. Darling, we´re…“ But he stopped when I shook my head and scowled at him. Stared at all of them, anger written on my face, before I winnowed to my room. Leaving them all guilty and silent.

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

With my back against the door, I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. It´s my life! I get to decide how I deal with Eris! Why do they keep talking about it like it isn´t my decision? Like it´s not my life?

My nails scraped the floor, attempting to hold on to something, anything, as I spiralled down a path I didn´t want to go. A guttural sound escaped my lips as my hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the expensive wood panels beneath me. Pain shot through my knuckles, making me want to scream. Anger. Fear. Emptiness. These emotions ran through my mind as my body shook with sobs. Why can´t I just talk? I want to, but I can´t... I don´t know... the words just won´t come out when I try. It made me even angrier when I thought about it. Do I not feel safe enough around my own family to talk to them? Or is there something wrong with me?

A knot formed in my stomach. I had never had a big problem with myself before. Not with my body, nor with my inability to speak to others. But now I wished, longed to talk to someone. Just someone who understood me. Someone who...

A certain scent wafted through the room making me pay attention. Was that smoke? I sat up straighter to observe my own bedroom. Books were scattered across the floor and the door to the neighbouring bathroom was open. My bed was made, covered in indigo silk sheets that shimmered slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the closed windows. A few plants hung from the frescoed ceiling. Nothing more.

My eyes were no longer watery and my heartbeat had stabilised. But I could still smell that there was... something. Parchment.

I looked over at my desk, which was littered with various rolls of parchment, papers and pencils of all kinds. But right in the middle. Something had changed.

Slowly, on shaky legs, I got up and walked over to my desk. A crimson envelope lay there, and next to it a shiny golden feather with light brown spots. I couldn´t remember putting anything like that here. It smelled of an open fire, fresh rain and a hint of vanilla.

Deep down I knew who must have sent it. I opened the letter with trembling hands.

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

Hello Princess,

Do you remember the night we met? To be honest, I can´t forget you. Standing on the balcony in your stunning gown, watching the stars fall upon you, even though they couldn´t diminish your appearance. At first I wasn´t sure how to approach you, but I did it anyway.

And it turned out to be one of the most wonderful nights I have ever had, and I wanted to thank you for it.

I could almost hear him chuckling to himself as a warmth filled my heart.

As you probably know by now, I'm your mate, but I don´t want you to feel obligated to anything that concerns me. It is your decision whether or not you wish to meet with me. ( Though I wouldn´t mind, of course)

A blush spread across my tear-stained cheeks and I instinctively smiled. He had thought of me. He really had. My heart melted like snow in early spring. Something about him made me feel complete and understood.

But if that´s the case, winnow to the border of Autumn in two days. I´ll be waiting for you under a birch tree when the sun sets. You can´t miss it. Sleep well, Princess!

His letter also contained a small note.

(Oh, the feather and the paper you write on will appear on my desk as soon as you write back).

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

I was speechless. Not just because he had thought of me or wanted to meet me. No. But because he would let me decide for myself. He wouldn´t force me to accept the bond, even if it hadn´t snapped for me yet.

Not wanting to think clearly at the moment, I did the only thing that seemed right. I broke the agreement with my parents.

I pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the quill and wrote back.

Half an hour later, I was lying in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a gentle night breeze caressing my form. A few candles were lit to provide some sort of night light.

Just as I was falling asleep, footsteps came from the hallway and my bedroom door creaked as it slowly opened. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to whoever it was. „Darling, are you still awake?“ My father´s voice echoed through the room as he peeked out from behind the door.

Just breathe. He won´t recognise it.

And he didn´t. He only walked over to my bed and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, while the last thing I heard was him whispering: „I´m deeply sorry, Starlight.“ before he silently walked out of my room, leaving me alone.

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not the slightest flicker of light. Total darkness consumed everything around me. No light, nor sun, nor any kind of something... soft. Something to keep me warm as the cold crept up my body, like a hidden shadow from the depths of darkness.

I gasped for some air to reach my lungs, but all I could inhale was dust. Air! I need air! My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and a tingling sensation shot through my entire being.

I felt like a flame being smothered as a deep, dark wave crashed over me, trying to drown me, as if I were nothing. As if I didn´t matter.

The darkness drew closer with each passing second. Minute? Hour? Time didn´t matter in this place of emptiness. A place without walls or windows or even solid ground. The only things that trapped me were my own thoughts and the giant beast I couldn´t see, but felt. It swallowed everything around it as its claws raked along my skin, my soul, leaving scratches all over me.

I screamed, but all that came out of my mouth was... nothing. Every sound, no matter how small, was absorbed by the emptiness of this place.

My body was drenched in sweat and my voice must have been hoarse by now from screaming my heart out for I don´t know how long. Slowly my body was losing consciousness and I was drifting further and further into the devouring void as I frantically tried to breathe. Please! I need to breathe! My heart stuttered for a moment. Help... help me! Somebody! Please, I... Hot tears streamed down my face and my eyes slowly closed as I was suffocated and drowned by the beast that guarded this place. My body went limp, tired from fighting.

A gentle brush of soft fur against my back was the last thing I felt as I drifted into nothingness.

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

I jolted out of my sleep, my heart racing and the sheets beneath me damp with sweat. You´re awake! Everything is fine! I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my pulse slowly steady as I realised it was all just a nightmare. The silver curtains swayed slightly at the open windows and the moon shone so brightly I had to blink my eyes. `Shh, it´s all right, Little one. I´m here´ it yearned to say. My breathing had normalised and I ran a hand through my sticky hair. It was just a dream. I lay back and tried to sleep again, but I knew it was going to be a long night.

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar fandom #chapter 2

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rowretro · 3 months

Text

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝕱𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗

Warnings: mentions of blood, angst

✧CHAPTER 1✧

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

It's just a harmless crush. Babe Yang's massive crush on Park Jongseong of course. It's pretty much old news, everyone knows about her crush on him, except Jay himself of course. Babe is known for being sweet to everyone, always sharing her sweets and snacks with anyone, and just genuinely being nice.

Everyone knows her best friend is Lee Aram, and she puts all her trust in the girl, it's no surprise that they see her drop Aram off, and treat her at random restaurants, as if they were dating. She's such a sweetheart.

So why didn't Jay notice her? Why didn't he love her? Who could possible reject the sweet charms of Babe?

"I don't get it- How is he not getting the hint?" Babe huffed in annoyance, a small pout adorning her glossy lips. Aram smiled sweetly t her as she pat her head "Maybe he might not be interrested?" She suggested as Babe frowned more.

"Not interrested? then why would he accept my gifts and be really nice to me? why would he still engage in conversations with me and why would he say I have W rizz? no one has ever said that to me except from my ex crush." She said As Aram sighed. "Well I don't know... You've been trying him for over a year now- aren't you tired?" She asked as Babe aired her lips.

"No I love that boy with all my heart Aram... you know this, no matter what Ill never give up, I have a good feeling about this!" She said as she walked off, seeing Jay. Aram watched as she happily walked along side Jay.

She felt as if she was watching a video of the people boarding the titanic, she knew what they were getting themselves into but they didn't know. It annoyed her how Jay was still being friendly to Babe.

. . .

Babe smiled as she walked alongside Jay to class "God your handwriting's so uneat how could you even read that?" she asked frowning as she tried to ready the messy notes "Here let me write-" she said as she neatly wrote down the small paragraph he wanted. Jay smiled as He read it out loud, clearly.

Sunghoon sat in the far corner, smiling at Aram who glanced at her a little. The male had developed a small crush on her... he doesn't know why or how. Perhaps from the time they were paired together to work on a science project?

He was rather observant. He watched how she stared at Babe and Jay, she seemed like such a supportive best friend to her. Of course. Everyone knew they were practically inseparable. He couldn't help but smile at the girl's actions.

As the teacher walked in, the class went silent. The students opened their exercise books all ready to take notes. Which Sunghoon was practically already doing, whilst admiring Aram. The way she pushes her hair back when she lowers her head to write, was a sight he loves. Its the only thing he could see from back there.

. . .

"Wow I never knew the scary quiet guy he beat the shit out of Cheung would be this shy to talk to his crush!" Babe exclaimed as Sunghoon glared at her. "I-I- sorry... I'll help you... just wait here- Im gonna try and ask Jay out.... he's usually alone in this classroom afterschool time" she said with a smile.

Yet she froze at the entrance. A sight for sore eyes. Her heart felt as if a monster was chewing on it, ripping it to pieces. Lee Aram, her best, most trusted friend was Kissing Jay. "What are you going to do about babe?" she asked with a pout as Jay scoffed.

"Just tell that bitch already Aram... She's so fucking annoying it pisses me off, if you don't tell her I will." Jay spat as Aram snickerred. Fuck that fucking hurt. Sunghoon tried to pull her back, despite feeling hurt, himself. His own brother dating his crush?

That's fucking brutal. But it didn't hurt too much, after all its a small crush nothing more, Sunghoon has money, a nice house, a strong mafia business, why would he need a pretty girl to share that all with?

He was too focused on consoling himself he almost forgot the real problem at hand "You could've told me Aram. So much for being fucking friends. I would've backed off, and You... you could've told me you aren't interested but no, you spent over a year leading me on?!" Y/n yelled catching the 2 off guard.

"I- Y/n... Y/n wait-" "No Aram just shut the fuck up. We're done. I don't want to see your fucking face ever again... you don't know what girl code is?! even then, you could've fucking told me- i would've moved on happily." with that, y/n ran off, Sunghoon following somewhat behind.

As the girl reached an alley way that was pretty far from the school, she paused, her head ringing, tears falling, as she coughed. But it wasn't a normal cough.... she coughed up blood, and a white flower petal.

What the fuck? a fucking flower petal? she frowned, assuming it was probably from one of those times she got hungry and took a bite out a flower in the vase, not too bothered, she ran home, her heart broken.

Sunghoon stopped running, not wanting to upset her further, hopefully she'll come to school he can comfort her then right?... Wait why the fuck would he want to do that, he mentally slapped himself, he's never taken interest in any other girl, or any human being in general, with a sigh, he walked to his car, an inch of him worrying for the small girl...

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

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kel-lance · 7 months

Text

Team Bonding: JJK students x reader x sukuna Part 1

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more.

- Premise: Characters are (18+) (Reader is 21) Jujutsu College au where things are the same but they found yuuji/He ate the finger at 18/+ the start of college.

- Yuuji “came back” after two months of “being dead” and you’re in charge of the training for today for the kyoto sister event.

- Sukuna switches with yuuji in this and chaos ensues :/

Edit: I reread this a month later and guys oh my god. i wrote these time patches of time, right after hitting the rig, and then blacking out after a few paragraphs im sorry ill actually write this time.

You were coming back from a mission that took about 2 weeks due to traveling and tracking down a spirit as the higher ups were testing your Light Manipulation. You know it was hard for everyone the death of one of the freshmen, now you look after Nobara with Megumi.

You’re the only 3rd year and they all knew you loved your pride. Something about being the “oldest” (since the seniors are all granted weekly missions.), the authority that just made looking up at them, was just an excuse to point your nose up high, and only got depressed for a /day/ when you found out Kamo was 5 days older than you.

You’re like an older sister or mom to them, with a few exceptions. The days were leading up to the Kyoto sisterhood school match, while everyone was meeting up to train, Gojo introduces Yuuji back to everyone.

You’re all shocked to say the least. Gojo was acting normally the whole time, that bastard. “(Y/n)’s in charge of sparring today. I’ll come back later with Shoko in case Yuta’s too tired.” He teased at his baby cousin before he left. He was probably referencing to take it easy pn yuta, he probably beat his ass showing him a new technique.

You ignored him yet again and started to pair everyone up. “Nobara and Yuta, Panda and Maki, Toge and Megumi,” leaving you with Yuuji. “We’ll take it slow zombie.”

- Into the match you cursed, “Shit- he’s so durable.” But you loved that. You threw yourself back and used your fingers to catch and push yourself away from Yuuji’s next punch. “He’s a close range fighter, too.” You feel like you found your match in terms of adaptability.

You fix your stance, both legs balances one in front of the other, knees bend, your body lowers and fingers and knees bent, ready at any time to change from offense to defense. You find his eyes again and don’t dare break contact as he’s fast. Faster than you, a blink could be worse than a misstep.

This was new as you always held yourself back from seriously harming your classmates. That pride doesn’t come from nowhere. Your favorite sparring partner is Todo, because he can get close and handle/not hold back punches.

It felt like you were getting beaten with respect, not like what I want to do to my underclassmen. What good would they learn from losing a time from sitting in the infirmary so often? But this was different.

You felt like you were fighting Maki on drugs, or with cursed energy, and was face to face to Yuuji, as he pinned you down. He was almost like Todo, but you couldn’t read him since you just met.

“Where’s your pride now?” He had enough of your poking and prodding. No warm welcome, not even a nice reaction from his friends. But he knew it was serious to you, so out of respect, he’ll follow suite. He’ll show off what he learned in his training with Gojo.

“Shut up Cannibal Corpse.” You teased back, smashing your forehead into the T of his face, hoping he’d be able to take it.

He backs and stands up, hand covering his face. He stopped in a way to let you know he needed a second. Blood coming from his nose? Or his mouth?

“Oh shit, are you okay?” You stand up too, turning to yell for your medic. “Yuu-“ You’re thrown back by the scruff of your collar landing on your shoulder, butt and hands, scratching them.

“Woah, dude, look I’m sorry,” You huff, rubbing your scraped skin as you slowly stood again. “I thought you could handle it.” You tried to ease the tension, coming close to him to see if he was alright.

He doesn’t look at you, but you feel an energy forming around him. You didn’t know what this could be, his cursed energy? Why does it feel so suffocating?

“(Y/N)!” Megumi tries to get his shikigami to get you out of his proximity but they were slaughtered in a a blink of an eye.

“What the hell was going on, where is the enemy?” You quickly looked up and down, about to grab Yuuji and run.

But your face was cupped so hard your chin could’ve snapped. Pinkie was looking down at you with cold eyes. Why were you letting this happen? You were in charge, you’re the oldest. You don’t resist but give a look of what the fuck back to him.

“Sukuna! Let her Go!” Megumi screamed. The other students semi surrounding you both.

“She’s so fun, though.” Yuuji cocks a smile, your brain still trying to make sense of what’s happening and who was really in danger here. You glare harder at him, knowing if you struggled, he would like it, and that it was cause you more pain. You couldn’t freak them out anymore, you’ve gotta get this under control.

“Tell you what, since /I’m/ the oldest,” He gave your cheeks a squeeze. “I’ll take over this bonding sparring whatever ur stupid sensei said. Putting a woman in charge… ha! I’ll show you a type of bond you all can share.”

He tears off the front of your shirt, holding your body closer, but you still say nothing but feel hate for him. Trying to humiliate you in front of your classmates, like you’re not in your sports bra most of the time. It didn’t bother you that you were semi exposed, you knew you looked good, but what was the reason?

Everyone started to yell and tell him to stop, ignoring the embarrassing sight Sukuna tried to use. Of course they didn’t care about your body, they had to figure out a way to separate you both carefully. You turn to face your classmates.

“It’s okay guys, if he wanted me dead he would’ve killed me by now.” You shoot your eyes back and look glare into Sukuna’s eyes, not the same bright, round eyes you first saw before anything else. You look harder.

“Yuuji’s still in there somewhere.”

Sukuna laughs. “You guys misunderstand. I said I’m in charge,” His other arm that was holding your torso back starts to move down the curve of your body, stopping at your outer thigh and squeezing roughly. “Todays lesson is, endurance. This one here,” He holds you up by your neck, as you’re trying to use your upper body strength up get higher, to get some air but his wrists alone are strong enough for him to pick u up easily. “will stomach all I will give her.”

He brings you back down, coughing for air as licks a tear from your cheek. He reverts his eyes back to your helpless friends. “Your part now is to endure, all the way til the end, then my game can start.”

You honestly couldn’t care what he was talking about, you could take whatever ridiculous match he has set up but to involve your mates? it wasn’t a sense of pride anymore but of respect of your friends. You just met this prick, the only thing stopping you from beating his ass to hell is that you saw their reaction about his supposed death. You didn’t want to be the real reason this time, well could you?

If worse comes to worst, you should be fine. You could take a beating, you had no problem being fought by a special grade curses and even showing off before Gojo gets here. Once you get out of his grip you can get everyone to attack. You’re the only thing in the way though you wouldn’t mind being taken with him if it comes to it. how heroic would that date be.

“Interrupt at all, even think about it, and I will end them, you, then anyone else I can find after.” He says to no-one. The parasite everyone was so on edge about needed a moment to breathe?

He huffs for a second, you thought there was a light in his eyes as he tried to let you go. You soften your look when- “Ah ah ah.” Sukuna takes over again, pinning you back to him, his other hand clapping around your neck. “I said I’d end them, and then you all.” He repeats to Yuuji. “Just shut up, watch, and then I’ll go away. It’s so boring being cooped up in this brat all day.” In all this, Yuuji’s trying to fight back? He can see this? Was anyone going to tell you what the fuck was going on. “Id rather be in this one instead.”

You felt the energies around you shrink down, though, agitated. It seems they knew about what was happening to Yuuji and seeing them scared like this wasn’t really a good sign for you. They can get scared of course, but all of them? Together like this? This was not how you wanted to traumatize them, what would they learn other than powerlessness?

“Let go already, you’ll leave a mark on my neck.” You choked out.

“You don’t have the brains to worry about that after I’m done with you.”

You roll your eyes at him earning a slap. You fell the ground shake and your friends winced at the sound. “Fuck-“ You shot up from the ground holding your steering hot cheek, right before he kicks you back down, leaving you sprawled and confused at the assault.

You haven’t been hit like that in years. Tears weld up in your eyes and you choke on a memory that’s created this boastful monster.

Sukuna frowned, “I thought you were tougher than that. Maybe this won’t be as fun as I thought. I knew I should’ve started with the short girl over there.”

You spit at him. “Don’t touch her, I’ll fucking kill you.” You blink to clear your vision and suppress the overwhelming memory. You glare at him before finding Nobara’s eyes. If they were 2+ years younger than you, you’d joke that they’re just a kid, but Nobi, your new baby sister,Like hell you’d let anyone make her feel how you felt. She was tough like you, even tougher you thought, because of how different you were, but still ended up similar.

“Tell me have any of you tried her out yet?”

You could only look out to see your friends gritting their teeth and weapons. Panda speaks up, “She’s our best fighter.” Hoping to lead away from this devious situation. You’ve already fought them all, and won. Is kuna trying to piss you off more? You ignore his assaults, the unfamiliar hands now controlling you.

“That’s just perfect.” He pulls your hips to connect to his, and your heart stops. You can feel it.

You actually freeze this time. Is he actually going to do it? You’d rather be beaten half to death or even to death, but how hard he was behind you, it birthed a black hole in your stomach.

Your body goes limp, unconsciously submitting to him, your eyes fall, not being able to look at anyone else. Will he be quick, will they fight for me? Is this what he really wants? Or is this just the start?

He picks you up and drops you to your knees painfully, still holding onto your collar. “Don’t try to run unless u want all their heads stringed together.” He says to you.

Everyone else watches, clutching each other or their weapons tighter, trying to think of a way, when they can go in, or if they even see when Gojo was coming back .

Grabbing your chin and lifting it up, he looks down at you and smacks you again. Your ear is on fire. The strike of his finger felt like a whip onto the side of your face. He hits you again, then again, and again.

You huff, picking yourself up slowly each time. If you didn’t, he’d step on your fingers, almost trying to grind the bones inside.

Sukuna raises his hand as you stare down and with this one, he sends you to the feet of Toge, Yuta, and Panda.

They look down at you, mixed feelings of guilt, anger, sorrow,. You speak to them through swelling cheeks, “Don’t worry you guys, I’ll be even stronger after this. Get ready cause next tim-”

Sukuna comes by and grabs you by the hair, dragging you to back to your original spot, tears and blood now messing up your face.

“You look so stupid right now.” He sneers. “You should see yourself.” At this point you were exhausted from holding yourself back from beating the shit out of him.

“Everyone,” He raises his voice for an announcement. “take your phones out and take a picture from your favorite parts of the lesson, okay?”

He tilts your head towards his, takes out Yuuji’’s phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of you both. *click*

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pablitogavii · 1 year

Note

heyy could you write maybe about the reader not going to sleep and gavi forces (like a little stern and stuff) them to go to sleep ??

"Have you still not showered!? Amor it's almost midnight and you need to rest!" Pablo came back after throwing out the trash and you were still in front of your computer frantically trying to finish your essay that wasn't even due until the end of the week.

"Mhm.." was all you answered not really paying attention to his words since you were almost ready to start writing your conclusion paragraph.

Suddenly, Pablo closed your lap top and you were looking at him with a shocked face. Thankfully you always work in Google Drive so everything stays saved, but you were angry he just wouldn't let you finish this tonight if you wanted to do it!

"Pablo!" you whine but he was taking away your lap top plugging it in before coming back to where you were sitting in the dining room.

"Don't Pablo me! Come on, time to go to bed nena!" he said reaching out for my hand helping me get up from the chair and I still felt tempted to finish the very last paragraph.

"I have one more paragraph to do...and then I'll.." he would even let you finish that sentence as he was already tossing you over his shoulder smacking your ass while walking towards your bathroom.

"You are being so bratty tonight! What am I going to do with you nena? Huh?" he said after placing you down and turning on the shower.

"Let me do what I want?" you said smartly knowing that's never going to happen and Pablo turned towards you with his infamous smirk.

"Now that's not something I usually do princesa..come on now, arms up!" he said and you rolled your eyes knowing that would annoy him but still doing as he asked as he took off your clothes piece by piece and opened the door for you to step into the shower.

When you came out seeing your lap top plugged in on the sofa and no Pablo in sight, you quickly got dressed and walked towards it only to be interrupted by Pablo's coughs.

"Yeah, good try..get your perky ass to bed right now nena..or I'm gonna make it red!" Pablo said making your cheeks blush and you knew he would do such thing if you pushed him too far.

"I made you some camomile tea to help you relax and get some sleep" he said placing the cup on your nightstand and you smiled at his kind gesture.

When he got into his own pajamas (boxers and old Barça t-shirt), he joined you in bed smiling when he saw you sipping on your tea already yawning a few times.

When you finished the tea, you felt so sleepy that you could fall asleep sitting up. All the exhausting from the day finally set in and you were moving closer to Pablo out of instinct wanting to be held before letting yourself go to the dreamland.

"There we go, put your head right there on my chest and get some rest..mi nena buena" Pablo praised moving his fingers through your hair gently while you nuzzled your face into his neck taking in his strong scent.

"Thank you for taking care of me amor..I needed some rest" you admit looking up at him and he smiled proudly nodding his head before leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

"If only you would listen to me more often princesa.." he teased and you whined shaking your head before moving even closer tossing one of your legs aver both of his wanting desperately to play with his hair.

"Pablito??" you used the nickname whenever you really wanted something and he knew it very well.

"What does my princesa want now? Huh?" he said smiling down at you secretly admiring just how beautiful you looked in that moment with messy hair and tired eyes.

"Can I play with you hair please?" you say blushing a little and he smirked nodding his head while kissing the top of your nose playfully.

"It's all yours preciosa.." and those words were enough for your fingers to start massaging his scalp while you cuddled close to him and closed your eyes feeling safe, loved and ready to get some very needed rest <3

Hope you enjoyed the story anon :)

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi smut #pablo gavi blurb #pablo gavi angst #pablo gavi headcanons

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 months

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Hi hello! I am a young trans man on a very lose dose of T (0.25 mL/week) that I've been on and off (for reasons beyond my control) for 4 years. I have avoided thinking about getting a hysterectomy specifically because I was under the impression I would be beholden to taking T consistently for the rest of my life if I want to avoid my body screaming at me for not having hormones.

I'm aware you are but a single person and don't possess All Knowledge, but to the best of your knowledge, would it be theoretically possible for me to get a hysterectomy that removes my uterus *only*, that halts the monthly bleeding part of the cycle but leaves the ovaries, and not need to panic about my body going into premature menopause due to entire lack of hormones?

Ideally, I do want to be on T consistently, but ADHD and needing to get represcribed every 6 months make this difficult. One of the things that has caused me the most dysphoria over my life *is* my period (other than my chest, which is why I got top surgery before starting T). I'd love to essentially get rid of that without needing to worry that my inconsistent T will give me further medical problems (other than any problems inherent to... inconsistent T itself 😂), as I already suffer from chronic fatigue, and that's *not* a good bedfellow with menopause 😂

I apologize for the paragraphs, but I wanted to give enough information ^-^ Thanks in advance, and have a great day!

hi anon,

I always feel a bit silly providing very short answers when someone has gone to the trouble of writing so much, but: yes. a hysterectomy is the removal.of the uterus; removing the ovaries is an oophorectomy and in the vast majority of cases only a hysterectomy is performed. because taking the ovaries comes with a hormonal deficit that can be problematic in younger patients, the ovaries are generally left while removing the uterus.

there are exceptions, of course; some people yoink the ovaries as well for health or personal reasons. my mentor actually opted to have his ovaries removed but leave the uterus, leading him and my mother (who had her uterus removed but kept the ovaries) joke that they had one full sterilization between them.

tl;dr that's not just possible, that's literally just what a hysterectomy is.

#sex edventures 2024

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lilwetto · 8 months

Text

Save a horse, ride a cowboy (18+)

Scrim x Y/N

Warnings: SMUT. Also will be written in third person BUT it might change to first since it's easier for me idk yet. might change it.

A/N this is my first scrim smut, so GO EASY ON ME. I also cannot do small paragraphs. I'M SORRY. I'm learning okay lmao, this is new to me all over again- this will not be light work, ok? Also would appreciate requests n shit, I want to actually test how far I can go with these while writing my stories on wattpad. I'll update whenever I can here, there's no hate here, only love. All my smut that I post here will be on my wattpad under LTE since I want to make an imagines book based on requests. It's difficult writing stories and trying to come up with ideas for imagines so pls give me ideas.

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It's been a month since you've heard from Scott, the two of you had been fighting on and off for the last three years, being in a relationship with him had never been an easy one. You had been best friends from the start to failed lovers now, he had written a verse about you in their song Escape from Babylon- talking about how you had gone from saying "I hate you" to "I love you", you've been in love with Scott since before the fame, however he had never felt the same way about you until a few years ago.

Your last falling out, you decided to pack all of your shit and move out of the home you two shared. He was entertaining the females on tour and that seemed to be the last of your strength to stay in that relationship, leaving hurt the most since you felt like he never fought for you.

Unfortunately, you’d have to see him again, you were their stylist for onstage attire and helping with the style of any music video any of them would be in. You knew Scott had a music video coming up, he had been writing a new album for the last year and a half. some new genres for him to try. Autotune being his best friend of course.

You were dreading that phone call from their manager, Kyle. He knew your relationship with Scott was in fact all over the place, everyone could see that the two of you would always fall out, it was no secret that you were slowly starting to hate the person he had become.

The last few minutes were peaceful yet horrible as you were pulled from your thoughts by the harsh ringtone of your iPhone. You groan out loud as Kyle’s name flashed across the screen, knowing you couldn’t ignore it. He paid you to do your job.

“What?” You mumbled after accepting the call.

“Nice to hear you’re cheery, Y/N.” His chuckle rattled your brain, rolling your eyes in disgust. “We need you to style this next video, come out to Chihuahuan Desert.” The fucking desert? Great. You think to yourself.

“When?” You mumble. You already knew the answer to your question, now.

“Now would be great.” You look at the time.

“Why the fuck are you guys picking closer to 11pm?” You didn’t want to leave the comforts of your bed. You managed to find a small apartment in New Mexico since your house with Scott was located in the middle of New Mexico.

“Y/N, we’re not doing this again, be here in the next hour.” Kyle hung up on you, making you more annoyed than ever as you climbed out of bed and threw on some clothes that’ll keep you warm for the night.

You drive your car to Chihuahuan Desert, seeing parts of the crew already setting up the lighting for this music video. Scott hadn’t released any new music yet, he had so much in the vault and was too picky to choose what he wanted to do with them all.

You weren’t happy that they wanted to do this music video at stupid o’clock, parking your car and climbing out. You walk towards the group of people, seeing Kyle getting hands on. “Where is he?” You ask. Clearly not wanting to see or talk to Scott.

“He’s in that trailer.” He pointed towards the trailer park looking as home. You rolled your eyes and walked up to the doors, knocking loudly as you hear a grumble and the words “come in.”

Scott was looking over a few pieces of clothing, keeping his eyes locked onto the table as you stepped into the trailer. A part of you wanted to hug him tightly, but the other part wanted to cuss him out and cry. You were the only two in the trailer, looking over at the thousands of clothing that he couldn’t pick from.

You grab a white oversized shirt, orange sweatshirt and a pair of his baggy jeans, placing them to the side as you looked over at his accessories. “What were you thinking of wearing?” You break the silence first.

“Was thinking maybe this chain and bracelet.” Your hand brushes against his as the two of you go to pick up the same item. “Sorry.” You mumble quickly.

Scott shrugs it off and plays it cool as he picks up the white cowboy hat and places it onto his head, a different look for him. He was branching out, picking up new styles from what he does in Suicideboys.

“I want to say I’m sorry.” He started, catching you by surprise. Scott never apologized; he was stubborn as fuck when it came to him being wrong. In Scott’s eyes he was always right, who was the female in your relationship, huh?

“Doesn’t matter, I’m over it.” You say before you can even stop your words from rolling off the tip of your tongue. Scott wouldn’t like that answer and it felt foreign coming from you as you turned your back to leave the trailer to let him get dressed.

“What?” His hand enclosed around your right upper arm, making you mentally groan. This is the last thing you wanted to deal with right now. “You don’t give a fuck about us?”

You let out the biggest laugh as you turn your head to look at him. “That’s rich coming from you. Scott, it’s you who doesn’t give a fuck about us. I have chased you and pleaded and what would you do?” You huffed in annoyance as he turned you to face him.

“You know I ain’t mean it like that, shawty.” He was doing his little cheesy grin, the one that would get him what he wanted as he bit on his lip.

“Get changed, you asshole.” You wanted to leave because this always happened, it was always a cycle with Scott, and you were too tired to keep going around like a merry-go-round.

He pulled your hands towards his belt, lingering your fingers over the cold metal piece. “I think I need some help.” He mumbled that grin still sitting on his lips made you want to slap it off.

You thought about leaving, but somehow you were in a trance, helping him out of his clothes to change into these new ones. He reached around you, locking the door from behind you before he pressed you up against it.

His arm outstretched beside your head, resting his hand on the door. “Suck it.” He mumbled, his other hand now holding your chin as his thumb grazed against your lower lip.

Being the good girl that you were, you slowly got to your knees and with the help of Scott had his pants around his thighs. He was semi-hard, almost waving at you. Your eyes doe-like, stared up at him as you slowly stuck your tongue out.

You tapped the head of his length against your tongue, you were going to tease him. Scott didn’t deserve to get it how he wanted it, you slowly run the tip of your tongue from the head to the base then back again before spitting at the end.

He was trying not to moan, watching your every move like a predator stalking its prey. His thumb caressed your cheek as you eased him between your lips, gently nipping your teeth against his sensitive skin. This earned you a small groan from him, this was new, you hardly ever took the upper hand when it came to sex.

“Y/N, stop teasing.” He grumbled, getting flustered by the lack of contact that he wanted. You peered up to his eyes, seeing the sparkle glistening in his eyes from the lights outside.

Scott didn’t care much for people hearing and sometimes he didn’t care if anyone saw the two of you fuck, you were his girl and only his. He grabbed your hair in an attempt to get you to do what he asked. The game you were playing with him? Dangerous as hell.

You pulled your head away, gazing up at him like a deer in the headlights. The look he always loved seeing on you. “Stop fucking playin, Y/N…” He was becoming agitated.

“Who said I was playing, Scotty?” A small smirk finally appeared on your lips as his hand moved from your face to your hair in seconds, forcing you to be face-to-face with his now hardened length.

He was throbbing, you could see it with the way it moved like it had a pulse. Your tongue touched the tip, jumping in excitement over a little bit of contact. Your lips finally making the contact that he so longed for, wrapping around his length caused Scott to groan under his breath.

“Fuck..” Those words weren’t meant to be heard especially by you. He didn’t want you knowing that he had been missing you, his stubbornness stopped him from calling and texting you, refusing to sleep with any girl that threw themselves at him.

He gripped your hair and slowly began to thrust his hips as he forced you to bob your head against them, taking the upper hand like he always done. You gagged slightly, feeling him hit the back of your throat. It had been awhile, moaning against him before he pulled himself out.

He forced you up, pinning your back against the door as he roughly pulled your pants and panties off, standing on them to keep them in place so you could take them off without falling over. Scott grabbed your hand as he fell back against the couch, pulling you on top of his lap as he then eased himself inside of you.

A low groan fell from his lips as he held your hips tightly, allowing you to move when you wanted to. The feeling of him stretching you out caused a soft whimper to burst from your throat, you had missed this feeling of him inside of you.

You began to slowly rock your hips back and forth, each time you’d build more confidence in each roll forward. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you began to spell ‘coconut’ with your hips.

“Holy shit… Y/N, you been watching videos or some shit?” His eyes peered from under the hat, licking his lips as he thought about devouring you right there and then.

You laugh under your breath which turned into a moan as Scott began to thrust up inside of you. His hands holding your hips firmly still as his hip movements became faster. His groans were filling the empty spaces as you began to rub circular motions against your clit, you refused to let him be the only one to cum.

“Fuck… I can’t hold it anymore.” He mumbled, you took the hat from off his head and placed it onto your own.

Your hips began to move faster against his own movements. Your moans becoming louder as he quickly covered your mouth, grunting as he filled you with his thick, warm load. You whimper under your breath as you feel yourself tighten around him, releasing yourself all over him.

“Shit…” He chuckled quietly under his breath before placing a couple of soft kisses to your lips. “That was good.”

You hum in response and slowly slide him out. “What can I say? I missed it.” You placed the hat back on his head and pulled your panties n pants back on before heading outside again.

Everyone was staring over as you exited the trailer. “What?” You mumbled as Kyle came over.

“The entire team heard the two of you..” He laughed, acting as if he was embarrassed for us.

“What can I say? I like to save the horses and ride me a cowboy instead.”

#$crim #scrim #g59 #wetto #$uicideboy$#suicideboysfanfic #suicideboysmut #smut #ftp #slick sloth #$uicide christ

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niphredil-14 · 8 months

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hey so how do you think the rottmnt boys would deal with having a published writer s/o. I imagine s/o has made Leo a jupiter jim fanfic which feels way too accurate it could be one of his comic books. Or like left little poems for Donnie lying around to cheer him up and discuss feelings with it or Fantasy short story for Mikey?

Oh, how the writer in me loves this request!! (also, welcome back to my inbox! nice to see you again! c:)

Leonardo:

Ever since Leo had found out that his lover could write, he had been begging them to write fanfiction for him. They had most likely been forced to watch all of the Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu movies before they even started dating Leo. But no matter how much he had begged for fanfiction, they had refused. They were just too busy working on the next volume in their series! But little did he know, that in the weeks leading up to his birthday, they had been brainstorming, plotting, drafting, and editing a special story just for him. When they handed him the gift, wrapped meticulously in Jupiter Jim themed wrapping paper, he was so excited! Before even unwrapping it, he knew that he would love it, just based on the look of pure joy and excitement in their eyes. He ripped the paper off, and found a deep blue binder, filled with paper. On the cover was written, "Happy Birthday, Leonardo" in large letters, and below it, in smaller letters, was written, "All my love, Y/N <3" His heart warmed, and he flipped the binder open, and almost squealed in excitement. Jumping over t them, he pulled them into a tight hug. He did not put it down until he finished reading it, and then he would just reread it. After he almost dropped it while on patrol, he asked Donnie to transcribe it and put it on his phone.

Raphael:

He found out early on in the relationship that his partner was a writer, and while he was very impressed with them and their talent, he wasn't much of a reader, so he didn't fully grasp just how amazing they were at first. While Raph could read, it was always hard for him, and he would have to go back and reread paragraphs over and over until they stuck. Out of love and interest in his darling, though, he began to listen to the audiobook versions of their books while he worked out. And he found out that worked for him, and was enjoyable. And though he often found himself wishing that it was their voice reading their stories to him, he knew from their conversations just how awkward they felt reading anything they wrote aloud to people, he knew how much they hated it, how vulnerable it made them feel, so he never asked. How much and often they talked about their work to him varied, though when they did it was usually just them complaining to him about their publishers/editors, or asking for his advice on the plot, or just using him as a fill in for them to perform the rubber duck theory. However, one day, they burst into his room, holding a book, and practically shaking. He had been sat on his bed, and they quickly sat down beside him, with the book pressed close to their chest. Before he could get a word out, they had begun to speak.

"I have a gift for you!" They trilled, they voice high, and sing-songy. A grin had stretched across his face, even wider than it had when they had first entered the room.

"Aw, Babe, you didn't have to get me anything!" He said to them.

"Well, It's not really that kind of gift, so..." They trailed off, and instead opted for just pushing the book into his hands, forcing the knitting needles aside. He looked down at the book, and found their name written below the title. How they had managed to keep the fact that they had published a new book a secret from him was beyond him, and he paused in wonder. "Open it!!" They exclaimed. And so he did, he flipped through the pages until he came to the dedication, and his eyes began to water at what he saw. Typed in a fancy, swirly, italic font was written,

"To my dearest, Raphael, who has given me endless support, love, and inspiration, who's the best muse anyone could ask for, and who's character is better than any I could create, I have written you into these pages so that your essence may be as immortal as my love for you is."

They had all the talent when it came to words, and he was left with only speechlessness as he pulled them into a tight hug, fat tears falling down his face as he buried his beak into their neck, holding them as close as he could.

Donatello:

It had never been a secret that Donnie was incredibly impressive, and taking that fact into consideration, it was no real surprise that anyone, even as talented a writer as his love, would find themselves often speechless in his presence. With their emotions running too high to properly verbalize them in the moment, they would often find themselves writing out how they felt in long paragraphs until they were able to cut down the words into poems, vague and intricate enough to not be fully clear, and yet so powerful as to make someone know exactly the emotion the poet felt while scribbling the words. Donnie had a very clear understanding of their experience with being unable to verbalize just how they felt, as he often experienced the same thing, and resorted to building things as a way to show his love. Which was why he was so moved when he had found their journal. He knew that all of their final drafts were kept on an ever-growing document on their computer, but he never knew just how those drafts came to be final. And yet, there was a pain in his chest as he held the journal, a disorganized mess of thoughts, in his hands, and was able to see their word vomit be carved down into pure art, not unlike a sculptor chipping away at wood or stone, to reveal the heart of their creation. He had known that he was important enough to them for them to gift him some of their poems, but to be able to look at the proof, to be able to hold it, and to touch it, the proof of just how strong the emotions he stirred up within them were, that was a powerful experience. It was as if his brain had completely shut off for the moments that he held their raw thoughts in his grasp, and all he could think of was how impossible it would be to ever completely and successfully express the same level of depth that his emotions had for them. But he knew that he'd be damned if he didn't try. And with that, he placed their journal back down on their desk, and made his way to his lab, already brainstorming.

(I got kinda carried away with Raph's, I'm not sure what came over me lmao. guess i got possessed by some kind of inspiration ahaha)

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