#you can’t just get one gel pen

[a-plethora-of-midnight-roses]

Me: haha I should wander around the school store before my next class

*20 minutes later*

Cashier: your total is $57.45

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

despite many years in many art classes and having it explained to me several times by several people, I still just don’t ‘get’ colors. if I wanna use them I either got have a palette made for me, have just memorized what looks nice together, or just hope for the best as I pick out the colors. I am insanely jealous of people who just. understand them. y’all are wizards.

[luveline]

jade!! can we please get something with junie’s mom and eddie? <3 missing them today

thank you for requesting! 1.3k

Eddie met you two weeks after you moved into the park, he’s pretty sure. Your baby ran out down the road because you didn’t know that all the trailers have the same bum lock, and she ended up on the Munson porch trying to get back home. 

He still remembers how she could barely talk. He had no idea how quickly babies explode with words. 

“Love you.” Junie smiles up at him, her waiting for a reciprocation all the more impressive. She’s just turned three, and Eddie would argue she doesn’t look it. She’s still a baby in his head. 

“I love you,” he says, leaning down to tap their noses together. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

Just a few short months ago she would’ve shouted “Hug!” and dove into his neck, or said nothing at all. He doesn’t see why that should change. 

“Babe, you don’t have to ask,” he says, wrapping his arms around her. 

She sighs in contentment, relaxing under his hand where he pulls it up and down her back. She’s getting bigger. Eddie can’t believe she’s already three. Where the hell does the time go? Days, weeks slip away. 

But at least they’re with you. God, he can’t believe they’re with you. 

“I’m feeling left out,” you say, laying on the floor of the trailer with your hands held over your chest. You’d been colouring with June a half hour ago, but she got bored fast and left you there. You’ve yet to get up. 

Eddie twists June in his lap so she can see you. He hugs her, and he presses his face to the top of her head, one eye open to see you and the other screwed closed. “You want us to come over?” he asks. 

You think about it. “No. I’m too tired to hug.” 

You’re always tired. Eddie knows that there’s a life he could give you one day where you don’t have to work. He’s not sure you’d let him, but he’d like to get promoted and move you out. He’d like to ask you properly to be his forever, to be permanent, and to live together as a family. Wayne’s telling him not to rush into things, but he really didn’t. You and Eddie were friends for half a year before he finally couldn’t take it anymore, and he doesn’t see that time as wasted, but he knows now that getting to kiss you is something he missed out on. 

Plus, being your boyfriend means he’s actually allowed to take care of you without dousing you in shame. You like being looked after. It’s why Eddie works a ten hour shift and comes straight home to you, so he can fold your laundry and you can get some rest. 

Every time you yawn, it’s a reminder for Eddie that he’s not making your life as easy as he could. (It’s not a healthy way to think about it. It’s not your fault or his that life is hard. But he thinks about it anyway.) 

Eddie gives June a kiss behind the ear and sets her down in the corner of the couch. He grins at her as he does, hoping for a detachment without tears, popping his head into his hand in mock nonchalance. “Babe, I’m gonna go hug your mom back to life. I’ll be right back. Cool?” 

“Cool.” 

Eddie pats her knee and she sits back to watch as he drops to the floor on his knees, crawling around crayons and gel pens and markers to your side. You laugh, flinching as his hand lands on your stomach, but he’s not there to tickle you. He holds your face in the other hand, really holds it, bending time. The mental snapshot he takes of you tired and lovely regardless can join an endless gallery. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says. 

“So are you.” 

“You want some help getting up?” he asks. 

You nod your affirmation. Eddie slides his hands under your arms, murmurs a too tender, “I got you,” as you sit up. He stands and pulls you with him, half drags your tired limbs to the couch where your girl is still sitting patiently. 

He puts you down. Kisses your cheek, throws a blanket across your knees. He picks Junie up to sit where she’d been in the corner and promptly settles with her on his thigh, the other arm open. 

“We’re napping?” Junie asks. 

“Would that be okay?” Eddie asks. “Mom’s tired.” 

“I’m not tired,” Junie says. 

“I know, baby, me neither. I was thinking we’d just lay here and hug mommy for a while, and then we’d have lunch.” 

“I don’t need a nap,” you say, though your eyes are heavy, darting to the empty place in his arms carved out especially for you. 

“Then just hug me,” Eddie whispers. Commanding, disbelieving, he knows you’ll be dozing in five minutes or less. All you need is a little light goading. 

You lay against his side. Junie wiggles to be on her front, chest to chest with Eddie as he sinks down. He kicks up his legs beside you, the three of you collapsing inward, his favourite girls in the world. 

There’s argument on if you can choose your family or not. Eddie doesn’t remember choosing you, just suddenly knowing you, and ever so slowly loving. He loves your face, your arms, the way you breathe. He loves how you turn into his chest and how you seem thrilled to be there, your hand coasting a loving line across him, fingers pressing into his stomach. It’s like you’re waving on his skin. He has no idea where you learned how to touch someone with that much love, but he leans down to kiss the skin just shy of your hairline so you know he feels it. 

Junie’s all little legs and sweetness as she yawns on his shoulder. “Mom, can I have some… some blanky?”

You pull it off your legs to cover hers. Eddie squares it up. Everyone covered, he lets his head tip back against the couch.

He’s not tired. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep. You fall asleep first in a slow series of exhales he knows well, that deepening, your fingers growing still against his t-shirt. 

Junie goes second. She squirms at first, not wanting to give in, but Eddie’s getting better at his dad-pats. He finds the space on her lower back, her off button ever since he’s known her, and he taps his hand against it until she’s breathing heavily against his neck. 

“Eddie?” she asks tiredly. 

“What, rockstar?” 

“Goodnight.” 

He scratches her back lightly. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Do you need me to take you to bed?” 

“No. We can sleep on you.” 

“Who should I sleep on?” he whispers. 

She shakes her head. Unhappy with his question, or maybe her nose is itchy. She falls asleep with her face pressed to his chest a few seconds later, leaving Eddie awake and unsure of what to do now. He trapped himself. 

He can’t find it in himself to mind, worried first about boredom, and then struck with a realisation. How could he ever be bored with you under his arm? 

He has time now to trace your nose, count your eyelashes, whatever he likes. 

“Love you,” he says, pressing his nose to your head. 

It takes a few seconds. “Love you,” you murmur. 

He rubs your arm until you’re sleeping again. It was selfish of him to wake you, but he’d wanted to hear it.

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader genre: established relationship warnings: mentions of assault, tiny bar fight, mentions of alcohol consumption a/n: i wasn't really sure how much i liked this, but i hope you guys do! i wanted to post something because i won't be online much for finals :( wc: 1.16k

You meant it when you offered to get the drinks for the table. You offer to do the first round: four rum and cokes, whiskey (neat, because Aaron would rather get his money’s worth) and whatever bright pink concoction Penelope ordered written neatly in purple glittery gel pen on an old receipt. Rossi’s glass of wine that he ordered costs double the entire order, and Spencer orders an Arnold Palmer. 

“Did you want to start a tab?” The bartender asks kindly, her pretty green eyes framed by dark brown hair clipped by a barrette. 

“Oh! Um, sure.” You smile, gesturing to the booth where the rest of the team were sitting at. “You can put it down for that table.”

She nods, tapping a few buttons on her POS system before looking back up at you. “There’s already a card for that table. Under… Aaron Hotchner?”

Your brows lift in surprise at her words, a laugh of disbelief leaving your lips. “Of course he did. That’s fine, thank you.”

You return carrying a tray of far too many drinks, setting them down with a soft sigh of relief. Everyone takes their respective drinks while Aaron pulls you into his side, his thigh pressing against yours as he lets his lips linger on the side of your head. 

“Thank you for that,” he murmurs lowly into your ear, squeezing at the flesh of your waist. His other hand swirls his whisky around the glass. “Did you carry them alright?”

“Mm. I’ll have to go back to get Penny’s drink. The lady at the bar said it’ll be in a couple minutes or so because the order was so specific.” You’re smiling at him despite your original annoyance. “I meant it when I said that I would treat everyone to the first round of drinks.”

“I meant it when I said that I would take care of you,” he responds simply. “The drinks they ordered was more than just a pretty penny.”

From the corner of your eye you spot the bartender waving you over, and you laugh before  pressing a soft kiss against Aaron’s face. “I’ll be right back, handsome.”

You really did mean it when you said that you would be right back. With a napkin wrapped around the cocktail glass, you turn around to make your way back to the table when a voice catches your attention. 

“Pretty drink for a pretty girl,” the man comments, and it takes a second for it to register in your mind. 

“Oh. Thank you, it’s for my friend and she is really pretty.” You smile politely. Wrong move.

“Not as pretty as you, I’m sure,” he continues, his eyes gleaming in your direction. You don’t really appreciate the way he thinks that his words are a proper compliment. “Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart. The name’s Colby.”

“That’s alright, I really do need to get back to my group.” You take a hesitant step away but he takes another step forward. 

This is dangerous, how close this stranger is. Anxiety wells in your throat and your stomach drops with nerves. 

“Just one drink,” Colby insists, inching closer. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

“I don’t need one,” you say, searching for  your voice. “Excuse me…”

Colby scowls, taking a step forward as he tries to prevent your escape. His fingers graze against your side dangerously close to the waistband of your pants and you can’t help but jolt, the glass slipping from your grasp and shattering against the cold tile of the bar floor. Your heart plummets to your stomach as the man grunts in frustration. 

“Look at what you did,” he snaps, shaking the drink off his hands. His eyes are dangerous as he glares at you, his hand lunching up and out, aiming directly for your arm. “You little–”

“That is enough.”

You almost cry out in relief when you see Aaron step in front of you, effectively shielding you away from the assault. He’s big and tall, and though you do not see him upset very often, it is even rarer for you to see him angry and mean. 

Aaron stretches to his full height, his eyes narrowed and his gaze dark. He stares down this man– this pathetic excuse of a human being– with the same hatred and disgust as he does with the unsubs he faces on the daily. 

“Oi, back off, would ya?” Colby sneers, crossing his arms over his chest. Aaron has half the mind to think that he would start stomping around like a petulant child. 

For once, Aaron wastes no time digging into his suit pocket and pulling out his badge, a grim look on his face. “FBI. If you make one more comment or so much as glance in her direction again, I will be arresting you and taking you in for custody before you can breathe your next breath. Do you understand me?”

The silence is almost deafening and Aaron finds his patience withering with every passing second. 

“I said, do you understand me?”

“Fuck you,” Colby snaps, drunkenly lunging with his fists clenched to clock Aaron in the face.

Aaron resists the urge to roll his eyes as he handcuffs Colby’s arms behind his back, dragging him out of the bar. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court…”

Everything after that is a blur. The bar awards you and the rest of the team free drinks and food for the remainder of your stay, and Colby is taken off to the nearest police precinct in record time. Regardless of all the delicious food, your appetite no longer exists as you curl into Aaron’s side, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, his lips grazing lightly against your forehead. “I’m sorry that something like that happened. You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“You didn’t deserve to almost be punched in the face,” You respond back, a wry smile spreading across your lips.

He laughs, squeezing your shoulder. “He was punching air, sweetheart. I don’t really know where he was aiming, but there was no way that he was going to actually hit me.”

Aaron watches you, the way you turn away from him and pick at your fingers. He exhales after a moment, dipping his head to meet your woeful gaze. “None of this–” he gestures to where one of the staff members is carefully cleaning up the broken glass– “is your fault. I hope you understand that. What happened was not your fault and you shouldn’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions.”

His words make you smile a little and you can’t help but press a soft kiss against his cheek. “Yeah. You’re lovely, Aaron, you know that?”

“I could say the same for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, squeezing your shoulder again. “You’re the loveliest.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

[alien-magnolia]

I Need Someone Older

Fic description: Dean finds you on a hunt and takes you along to get you safely out of danger, fun ensues :) as the two of you feel an inevitable pull of attraction towards each other.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: AGE GAP! Hyper-feminine reader in early 20’s, Dean in late 40’s, daddy issues <3, dom-coded dean, sub-coded reader, bj, breeding kink!, extremely subby-coded reader, helplessness, praise!!!

Word count: 3.1k

Don’t like, don’t read!!

May 5, 2007

7:40 pm

Your white knee high socks were getting a little dusty from the dirt on the woodsy soil. You came out here to write your poetry, desiring a place for peaceful solitude, and perhaps some creative inspiration. You dusted off your skirt as you sat down on the moist bed of grass. The waning moon was a bit yellow tonight, yet you thought nothing off it. You began to write a few words in your floral notebook, with some neat handwriting and a gel pen.

All of a sudden, you hear a wail in the distance. The wind is cold. A few leaves rustle out a few feet away from you, causing you to stare into the dark pathway on your left, in which many trees loitered. You felt as if you were being watched. You continue with your writing, until again you hear a rustle, this time, a bit closer than before. A chill goes down your spine, and you slowly turn to see a pair of yellow eyes, a figure with long, sharp, claws, and a tall, curved, spiny, skinny, body, with a tail. It snarls, coming closer to you. You drop your notebook, and crawl backwards, the dirt making indents on your palms. You hear a few male voices, and see boots running to attack the creature.

You see a flame, the creature is light ablaze, and you pass out from fear. The last thing you remember is strong arms lifting you up, the smell of beer and cherry pie clouds your nostrils.

You wake up in the wood again, this time, the brighr and warm morning light shines down on your skin, littered with cuts and bruises. You seemed to have lost your favorite lipgloss in the process.

“Where am I? My head…,” you whine, seeing a handsome man next to you, bandaging your cuts and cleaning them. That cheered you up a bit. You wince as his calloused hands rub alcohol on your wound, and you meet his eyes. He had green eyes, dark hair, wore a flannel and jeans and had the most amazing body <3 he looked just, so big, compared to you!

You ask him his name and what happened. “The name’s Dean, sweetheart. My brother and I were in these woods looking for a wendigo. We sure as hell did find one.” You nod, still reeling from the attack last night. “Did that… person, thing, do that to me?,” you ask, eyes wide, a bit nervous. “It’s no person, honey,” he chuckles darkly. “Hate to break it to you, but monsters are real. The whole gang. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, demons, all other things that go bump in the night. All are real.” You sit in shock as he continues to fix your wounds. You notice how good his calloused (gunpowder covered) fingers feel on your calves. You wince as he brushes over a wound, jerking your leg back.

“Too rough?,” he asks, a large hand resting on your thigh. You nod. “S’alright. I’ll be more gentle, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, feeling satisfied as the older man returns your smile.

“Hey. Might’ve caught trail of another wendigo up ahead. We should get going,” another man dressed in similar fashion walks up ahead, talking to Dean, taking a glance at you. “What's the hold up, Dean?,” he asks.

“Shut it, Sammy. Can’t you see I’m doing something here? Found her at the site where the thing was. Had to fix her up.” Sam nods, as Dean tells him your name. The two then agree to further go hunt for the second wendigo. “What about her? We’re deep in the woods now, sure as hell she ain’t going to go back on her own, Sammy.” “Fine. Take her with you, as long as she doesn’t cause a problem.”

So it was. You were now going to hunt for the wendigo with the Winchester brothers. The dirt and thick jagged branches sometimes were too much for your legs to handle, so you held onto Dean for some of the walk. He didnt seem to mind, and only smirked as you accidentally leaned too much into him, your soft chest grazing his wide and big arms.

“Stay here, stay put. Don’t go anywhere,” Dean commands you, and you do as said, wait as the boys go into the dark cave. An hour later — there was fire, shrieking, and the boys come out unscathed. The last wendigo has been killed, and the three of you make your way back to “baby,” which you later learned was Dean’s nickname for his ‘67 Impala.

Dean drove with Sam in the front, you in the back seat. You dozed in and out of consciousness as the engine lulled you toward the heavy tug of sleep, you overheard the two men speaking about you.

“Well, Dean she has no ID on her so it’s better off that we take her to the local sheriff’s station. We know Jody, she might be able to help,” Sam inquired. “Yeah, well Sammy, you know what, Jody’s probably just going to tell her to go back to the woods or some shit. Maybe she’s far from home. Maybe she was hiding. Who the hell knows? Bet she’d tell us first before talking to law enforcement,” Dean countered.

“Why is it always you and women, Dean? She’s so young too. Maybe a little too young for you?”

“Shut it, Sammy. Respect her. She probably has her reasons. She’s real pretty and I’ll get what I want, eventually,” Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

You drifted back into sleep but squeezed your thighs together at the thought of the older man using you and getting what “he wants.”

You were more than happy to give it to him.

You were in a dingy 1970’s era hotel room, with dark brown shag carpet, rickety beds with neon orange polyester sheets, and a single lamp in the corner, flickering on occasion. No tv, but a rotary phone and radio. Sam was on a chunky laptop that whined and whistled due to all the power his research into Wendigos was taking up. You believed he was on a library forum of some sort. You sat on the bed, dwindling with the phone cord. The low buzz of the fan was heard from the corner.

Dean comes up to you. “Heya, kid. I’m gonna go get some grub. Wanna come with?,” he asks, offering you a hand to help you up from the bed. You nod, smiling, and taking his hand. Dean opted to go to a local bar to get some takeout. He ordered a large burger, large pilsner beer, and a cherry pie. You got some chicken and French fries, sharing some pie with him. You tell him that you were in the woods to write poetry, you got lost and then time seemed to go. Your cell was dead too. He told you about his ‘job’ with his brother Sam, choosing to follow his dad John Winchester’s legacy of hunting down things that go bump in the night. He made you laugh, asking you about your writing, your college education, a life that someone like him never had.

“We’re so different, you and I, know that? Seriously. I mean, college? In my dreams. Wondering what that’s like,” he said to you, while taking a sip of his beer.

“What can I say. I want a decent life for myself, sometimes. I have a pull towards the arts. Literature, actually. Sometimes though, I just want to be on my own. Without the pressures of society, on the road, like you two. Bet you don’t have any deadlines to meet,” you jokingly admit to Dean.

He chuckles, but then nods, a more serious expression growing on his face now, taking another sip of his beer. “Life sucks, kid. Sucks for me and Sammy, we’re out on the road, might die the next day. Never know what the fuck’s chasing after us,” he has a bit of a solemn expression, taking another sip of his beer.

You nodded, understanding him, seeing through the “tough guy” facade that he’s put up. He was scared. He needed someone to comfort him, to support him. His brother was his partner, yet that wasn’t the partner he was looking for.

You reach over to put your dainty hand on his large one. “Thanks for dinner, really. We should save some for Sam, though, I think,” you giggle, watching a grown man blush over your gentle touch. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Anytime…,” he trails off, his blush seemed to get stronger and he was avoiding eye contact a bit.

“You okay?,” you ask, meeting his eyes, feeling something start to heat up between the two of you, the air suddenly was heavy. “You’re just, well, pretty, kid. Seriously. Real fuckin’ nice, sweets,” he chuckles, his large fingers coming to intertwine with yours. You almost faint under the pressure of his hand on yours, your eyes drift to his muscular and wide frame, his tattered Jean jacket, his necklace on a black piece of string, his chiseled jawline. As funny as he was, you knew that you had an undeniable attraction towards him.

He saved you from the wendigo, but you let him. You let him take you back to the motel with Sam. You let him have you stay with them. Now. You’d let him have your body. All of it.

“Maybe we can go into those woods again? I can show you some poems?,” you reel, watching the older man’s eyes light up with a burning flame. “Sure, thing, kid. I’ll take you up there in ‘baby.’

With a few stares and leers from the other inhabitants of the shady bar, Dean leads you by the waist out the door, and into his impala, opening the door for you, of course.

“Ladies first,” he bows down a bit as he holds the shabby car door open for you. You take his helping hand and slide into the shotgun (front) seat. He quickly runs over to the driver’s side, a toothpick in his mouth as he climbs in, adjusting the jagged rearview mirror. You struggled to buckle up in the old model of a car, so Dean helped out, buckling it for you. You liked the many things he seemed to do for you. His care. His help.

He pulls out of the diner driveway, one of his ringed hands on the wheel, another tracing gentle patterns all over your thigh. You adjust your socks as his patterns make you heat up — inside and out. “I know a place. You down? If not I’m fine with it, sweet thing. No pressure, s’all,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if speaking to a child. You blush. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll show you my poems. I’ll show you something else too, I think you’ll like it,” you cover your smile as you let out a few small giggles. He smirks back at you.

“Oh I’ll like it, alright. God damn,” he stifles, his strong, calloused fingers gripping a bit harder on your soft thigh. The rest of the drive was tense, just how you liked it. Soft rock — ‘Blue Oyster Cult’s’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” played in the background, and it would usually lull you to sleep. Not tonight. Your heart raced, stealing glances at the man next to you. The man about to take your virginity, what concept you or society made of it. You hoped he didn’t mind.

The impala pulled into a motel parking lot: the same one where you left from. “Dean. Your brother..won’t he..?, you ask, and he quickly interrupts. “Well just be in a different room, is all. Sammy wouldn’t care anyway, as much as I’d like him to. He takes your hand again, leading you to Room 22, on the second floor. Your fingers trace the grimy balcony railing as you head up there.

The door shuts. You smile at him, then look down at your feet. “Can I, um. Kiss you, Dean?,” you ask, shy and sweet, a delicious pie on the shelf, a cherry blossom that smells and tastes so sweet, intoxicating the older man closer and closer to you. “F’course. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You nod. “Let me take the lead, yeah, sweet thing. I’ll be gentle. Scout’s honor,” he smiles, holding up two fingers. You nod, wrapping your small arms around his broad chest. Your soft chest pressed against his, you feel the cool metal of his pentagram necklace press against your warm, beating heart.

His large arms trail down to squeeze your waist a bit, and then rub circles down below, your waist and hips. He gave them a tight squeeze, you gasped at his strength. His fingers continued ministrations on your waist, hips, thighs, and the two of your lips danced in a slow and sensual rhythm. You could taste the beer and cherry pie on him, and you ran your fingers through his coarse hair.

His thumb rubs your cheek a bit, and he picks you up in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down under him. His face above you, his brown eyes in awe taking in your sweet skin, putting him in a trance. His calloused hands run down your arms, your belly, gentle, soft, and slow. He grabs your chin, pulling your face towards his, and meets you for a chaste kiss, slow, you felt the stubble on his cheek and smiled into his lips.

His hand runs through your hair, over your cheek, this thumb caressing your face a bit. You keep the kiss going, you feel him getting rougher, hungrier for you. Your hands touch his broad chest, trailing on the hem of his shirt, which you take off. His chest was bare, just with a tiny bit of hair, and a very prominent happy trail <3 of which you run your fingers through.

His hands lead your hips up against the wall, tracing patterns on your back. Your lips are hungry for each others, you push your chest into his. “Fuck, sweet thing. Gonna drive me up the wall here, Jesus,” his voice now an octave deeper, raspier, breathless. His cherry pink swollen lips meet yours again, you feel his aftershave on your face. Your thighs rub against his growing bulge, positioning your legs so his thickening tent on his jeans was pressed up snug, right into your growing wetness in between your legs.

“Dean…want it,” you moan out, your delicate, manicured fingers tracing the toughness of his stubble. “Want what, huh? Gotta ask nicely, don’t keep me guessing, honey,” he smirks, a condescending expression appearing on his handsome face.

“I-uh, your, uh, oh, fuck,” you breathlessly whimper out, as his rough, calloused fingers gently slide down between your legs, rubbing your soft, warm folds, through your pretty and pink lace.

“Let me see what you got down there, hmm?,” he smirks, knowing that he has you completely wrapped around his finger. You nod, his hand cups your cheek for another kiss. He slides off your skirt, your knee highs, your Lacey top. You work on his jeans, until he stops you, with a look — meaning that he can take care of it.

All clothes gone — your legs intertwine, he presses his leaking bulge into your folds, you could practically feel how you clenched around nothing!!

“Dean…,” you beg again. “What’s wrong, huh? What’re you beggin’ for, seeet thing. Gotta give me words,” he says, all the while his thick fingers continue to work you open — get you ready for him.

A soft smile is on his face as his fingers become ever so gentle, continuing a circular pattern, pausing to tightly cup and squeeze your pulsing mound.

“Want. Want your, ha — your cock, Dean. Please. Please!,” you squeal out, just as he cups and massages your mound once more. “Why didn’t you say so, at first, sweet thing? Here I was thinkin’ you only wanted my fingers,” he chuckles, smile full of adoration — seeing you in a close to ruined state. His fingers pull out with a squelch.

You whine at the loss, your cunt throbbing, pulsing, desperate to be filled!! He smiles, hands on your hips. “Bend over f’me, baby.” You do as said, his smile and yours widen as his two hands cup your ass, giving it a hard smack.

His hands trace up and down your back, your waist, until you feel his soft tip press at your entrance. You turn around to view what you’ve been waiting for. He’s big. Short, yet thick. Oh so thick. You weren’t sure if he’d fit. A large vein ran down his left side. Fuck — how you wanted that in your mouth.

His hand gently guides your face back down into the table which you were bent over. “Down, baby. You’ll get a chance later, yeah?,” he soothes you. You nod. You feel his throbbing tip at your mound, as he slides in — you feel the stretch, just for a bit, and then he starts to push in, you felt so full !!

“Fuck— ah, Dean, too much, too much,” you squeal out, as he slides in, and starts to move, thrust, slow, gentle at first, and then deep, fast, his thick balls slapping against your mound. You saw stars, felt pressure as he kept going, faster, rutting into you, his hairy chest pressing into your back. The man had put you in a mating press. You wouldn’t mind. With how it’s going with him — you’d take his seed. Anything for the man that saved you from the Wendigo.

Your eyes roll back into your head, his grip on your hips was like a vice. The two of you finish with screams. He groans. “Fuck, sweet thing. You take it like a champ, yeah?” You nod giddily, anything for his praise and approval. “How’s about we stay in this room tonight? I’ll getchu’ a beer.” You nod. “That’s my good girl. Stay put.” With that, your mound is even more wet, you’re left clenching, covered in his cum as he leaves to get you snacks.

He comes back, presses a nice kiss to your forehead, and makes the two of you some dinner. You wondered what this will lead to.

Author’s note: pls support your creators <3 if you love this fic pls comment or reblog! Greatly appreciated <3 xoxo - Liz

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Ethan is trying to do work and the reader distracts him which turns into more. Just Ethan being flustered and trying to focus while reader teases him. 🤗

I've done a version of this with Mindy

Warnings: nudity, teasing

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’Did you see my green highlighter?’’

‘’No. I have a blue one, here.’’ You fished it from your pencil case, but Ethan didn’t take it.

‘’I can’t use blue.’’

‘’I have pink, yellow and orange if you prefer—’’

‘’No. That’s not what I meant. I have a color code. Green is for the things I understand, blue is for what I don’t understand and the glittery gel pen is for underlining things that I think are gonna be in the exams.’’

Fondness filled your stomach. He was so precious and nerdy at the same time. You reached across the bed to grab the collar of Ethan's henley and kissed him sweetly.

‘’Eh…what was that for?’’ Ethan asked, a little dumbfounded. ‘’I love your kisses, it’s just that we really need to study—’’

‘’You are such a nerd.’’ You kissed him again, lingering your lips on his. ‘’But I love you.’’

Ethan’s cheeks flushed the cutest shade of pink. ‘’I love you too.’’

You went back to studying, reading pages of textbooks until your eyes burned. Why was there so much to read in econ? Maybe you should switch majors?

‘’Have you read the chapter about taxation?’’ Ethan asked, a pen in one hand and a highlighter in the other. ‘’My mind is literally going to explode from the amount of information.’’ His eyes were fixated on his textbook, concentrated on what he was reading.

A breath of air left your lips. ‘’I have not. Sorry.’’ You ran a hand through your hair, flicking through pages with your other. ‘’I’m like…two chapters behind.’’

Ethan snapped his head up. ‘’Two?! What have you been doing all this time? Mrs. Coleman is gonna question us about these chapters next lesson.’’

He was right, but you had been studying for over three hours and nothing was sticking to your brain anymore. Your learning batteries were full for today. Maybe you’ll bring your textbook to your shift at the campus library tomorrow. Thursday afternoons are always quiet.

Before you, Ethan had returned to his reading, pen cap between his teeth while he was underlining long paragraphs. Sometimes, you wished he wasn’t so serious during study dates. School was important, but it doesn’t mean you can’t take a few makeout breaks.

You tried getting back to reading, but the words were not sticking. So you threw a paperclip at Ethan. It hit his chest and you grinned amusedly.

‘’Hey! Stop throwing shit at me,’’ he scolded, throwing it back at you.

‘’Let’s take a break.’’

Ethan shook his head. ‘’Can’t. I have another chapter to read and then I’m meeting with a study group.’’ He checked the time on his phone, making sure he wouldn’t be late.

A study group? You thought you were going out for late dinner at the café right outside campus. They have this new breakfast all day menu and you couldn’t wait to have waffles for dinner.

You pouted in disappointment. Guess there won’t be any waffles tonight…

‘’Can we at least cuddle before you go?’’ you asked, impatient to wrap your whole body around Ethan like a koala and kiss his face while he holds you back with his strong arms.

Your question was left pending and you were tempted to chuck a pillow at the curly haired nerd before you — but you didn’t. Instead, you took advantage of focused attention and removed your shirt and bra without him noticing. You felt a shiver up your spine when the cool air of Ethan's dorm hit your warm skin, causing your nipples to peak.

Ethan was addicted to your tits. Maybe he’ll put down his textbooks for a few minutes.

‘’This part is really important. Do you think we should make flashca—’’ Ethan cut himself and you heard him make a little noise, his bambi eyes falling on your breasts exposed right before him. The pen he was holding fell from his grasp and you smirked.

You felt the weight of Ethan’s eyes on you, all the information he just read suddenly swept away. ‘’What is it you were saying?’’ You let your hand crawl up his jeans-covered thighs and a swallow bobbed its way over his adam's apple when you almost reached his crotch. ‘’Cat’s got your tongue, love?’’

Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but your hand was getting higher and higher. A whimper slipped from his lip when you reached your desired spot, feeling him growing stiff beneath your palm. It’s so good to tease him.

He reached for your breasts, his palms enclosed over them, kneading into them as his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.

You sighed in pleasure, grazing your fingers along Ethan’s jaw. ‘’How many chapter do you have left again?’’ 

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz

[b14augrana]

Nenita

You plan a surprise for Irene’s birthday

Irene Paredes x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

masterlist

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings needed!

A/N: in honour of irene’s birthday, i decided to write a little fic. there will be a new section in the scrubber masterlist for all the blurbs about cute moments with scrubber and the girls! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Your calendar was very significant. You marked off your birthday, upcoming matches, Christmas, but most importantly… all your big sisters’ birthdays. Each of their birthdays were marked on your calendar in pink glittery gel pen.

You were giddy the night before their birthdays, probably even more excited than they were. Tonight, it was Irene’s big day that you were looking forward to as you laid on your bed stomach-first, filling in a card you made yourself.

Birthdays were a big deal for you because it was probably the most appropriate time to tell someone just how much you loved them.

Your captain was a very special woman. She was your second mother, mentor, and friend, all in one. Everyone needed an Irene in their life, but unfortunately there was just one, and not-so-unfortunately, she ended up with you and your team.

Those were the words you wrote on her card before sealing it in the envelope. With a smile, you placed it on top of the neatly wrapped gift stashed in your closet… that was piled on top of what looked like a dozen more.

The morning of the 4th of July, you were up before Irene. Carefully and quietly, without hitting the walls with your tower of gifts, you walked out of your bedroom with them and placed them on the coffee table. You placed your card in front of them and scrambled to the fridge to pull out the cake you made for her.

You weren’t a professional baker, but you knew how to make simple things like a cake. Irene loved red velvet cake, so when you stacked it all together with a homemade cream cheese frosting you had worked all week on (almost) perfecting, the end product was a birthday cake. You decorated it with the help of Fridolina, using sprinkles and cake toppers she had chosen, then two big ‘3’ candles right in the middle.

You were proud of your cake, even if it wasn’t the best. You figured that it would be nice to test out your baking skills instead of buying a red velvet cake that already cost you an arm and a leg without extra decorations.

Your culinary creations didn’t stop there. Next on the menu was french toast that you dusted with powdered sugar, drizzled with maple syrup, and garnished with strawberries and blueberries. It made you feel like a proper chef, and once you finished constructing your meal, you looked at it in pride. It almost looked good enough to go in your stomach.

“Irene,” you whispered, nudging her bedroom door open as you carried her breakfast and a cup of coffee into her room, on a tray. Your grin was hardly containable.

She rolled over, looking at you through squinted eyes. Her expression brightened and her eyes widened when she realised what was happening, and she sat up while a smile flashed across her face.

“Meu nenita, moltes gràcies,” she replied, her smile widening as you placed the tray on her lap and put the coffee on her bedside table.

“After you eat, come to the living room. I have to give you something!” you chimed, skipping out of the room and leaving the woman to eat her food.

When she emerged out of her room, you were standing in front of your gift tower with your arms behind your back and a beaming smile on your face. You moved to the side, gesturing to your gifts. “Surprise! Feliz cumple, hermana!”

Irene gasped quietly, placing a hand on her chest as she looked at you in surprise. Before even paying another thought to her gifts, she pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you gently. “Nenita, you didn’t have to. How did you get all of this– no, how did you hide all of this?”

“I can’t tell you that,” you responded, “I’ll have to do it again next year. Open the card!”

You picked up the envelope and handed it to her, almost bouncing off the walls in excitement. She tore it open carefully and pulled out the card, taking a minute to read it before lowering it and looking at you with glossy eyes.

‘Dear Irene,

From the very first day I played with you in Barça, I’ve seen you as a second mother to me, away from my home. Not only do you take care of me and let me live under your roof, but you inspire me and teach me to be better than what I am capable of, on and off the pitch. I am lucky to spend my days with you; a beautiful, loving, and talented person. Being under your guidance and having you by my side during every game has made me the player I am today and I will always be grateful for having you in my life now, and hopefully forever.

Feliz cumpleaños, hermana! T'estimo per sempre.’

You were the one to initiate the hug as you wrapped your arms around her. She was quick to react and do the same, embracing you affectionately. “T’estimo, meu hermanita,” she mumbled.

Once you had pulled away, your grin hadn’t faltered one bit. “When all of the girls get here, we can have cake!”

“What do you mean, all of the girls?” Irene questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Y’know, all the girls. Alexia, Mapi, Frido, Ingrid– who else.. oh, Caro, Marta, Aitana, Lucy and Ona,” you answered, “Now go on, go get ready. The icing is going to start melting!”

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Fruit Roll Ups

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, kissing, gender neutral terms, that's really it?

Another fic based on another Waterparks song

I got some Fruit By The Foot if you wanna come over

Yea, you can wrap your arms so tight

Right 'round my shoulders

In case you're scared of the movies I pick

I'm sorry in advance for that shit

Mattheo and you always had a very flirty relationship. At least, on his end. Complimenting you, hitting on you, telling you horrible pickup lines. He loved when you smiled or laughed at it. He’d even loved it if you rolled your eyes. He actually liked you, though. He had no idea if you liked him back or just liked his flirting.

He finally got the courage to ask you out after watching you with your friends in the courtyard while he was with friends on the other side. Theo and Blaise picked up on him staring at you and started teasing him, making fun of him for pining over you but never doing anything.

“Are you ever gonna ask them out?” Theo smiled at him.

“Yes. I’ll do it when I’m ready.” Mattheo frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets with a sigh, still not looking away from you.

“Is the staring helping? Blaise added on the other side of Mattheo.

“Can you shut up? I’m taking this at my own pace.” Mattheo said, shoving Blaise while Theo and Blaise laughed.

“Just ask them. They’re either willing to give you a chance and say ‘yes’ or they don’t and say ‘no’. It won’t matter when you ask.” Blaise said.

“It’s not like everyone can’t see you guys eye-fucking in class anyways.” Theo added.

“Shut it.” Mattheo sighed, running a hand through his hair before he found himself starting to walk over to you.

When you talk

It's in cursive to me

And it's nicer than anything I'd believe

About me

It's like that shit was written in gel pen

And I love those

“Hey, (Y/N).” Mattheo’s voice said from behind you.

You turn around to see him standing behind you, hands in his pockets, hair a little messy but still cute. “Hey, Mattheo.” You smiled at him.

He smiled and looked down, shifting on his feet before looking back up at you. If only you knew how much your voice affected him. “I think I remember you saying you liked horror movies, right?”

“Yeah. Why?” You nodded.

“Uh, I have some that I haven’t watched yet and all my friends are too much of pussies to watch them with me. I was wondering if you wanted to come to my dorm to watch them one night.” He said, eyes locked on yours. He seemed nervous, which was very unusual for him. “I have a bunch of those little chocolate frogs you like too. I don’t think I’ll ever finish them. I have way too many.”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds fun. Maybe this weekend.” You said with a smile, which seemed to ease him.

“Sweet. Uh, I’ll text you later about the details.” He said, his own smile making its way back on his face before he started backing away, sending you a wink before turning around, taking a deep breath when he knew you wouldn’t notice.

If you want to see me

Acting so desperately

So desperately

All you gotta do is stop texting me

Just to flex on me

He texted you about the movie night a few hours later, not wanting to seem too eager or desperate, just trying to confirm when you’d want to have it. Except you didn’t reply. He didn’t mind the first 10 minutes. After that, he started thinking about it. Maybe he worded it wrong? 20 minutes passed and he kept checking his phone. Did he offend you? 1 hour passed. Maybe you never actually wanted to have a movie night with him.

He left his dorm to find Theo. Theo was good when it came to getting with people.

“I don’t get it. I just asked them when they wanted to have a movie night.” Mattheo said, pacing the room as Theo looked at the text on his phone.

“It’s been an hour.” Theo said, laying on his bed, looking back at Mattheo with a blank face.

“Exactly! An hour and they never replied!” Mattheo said, gesturing his hands wildly.

“They could be studying.” Enzo said, sprawled on an armchair in Theo’s dorm with a book in his lap.

“They’re probably just busy.” Theo tossed Mattheo’s phone on the bed.

It's true

I'm a little bitch for you now

I don't wanna say it way too loud

But I'm a little bitch for you now

His phone suddenly lit up with a notification and Mattheo nearly jumped to grab it, falling to his knees beside the bed as he checked his phone. He smiled when he saw your name and quickly unlocked his phone to read the text you sent him.

“It’s fine. They were napping.” Mattheo said to the two boys, who honestly couldn’t really care less, but found amusement in how desperate Mattheo was to get a text from you.

“See. It was nothing.” Theo said, picking up his own phone to go back to scrolling through it. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried.” Mattheo said quickly, standing back up as he typed out a text to you.

“Right.” Theo said, raising his eyebrows as he glanced over at Enzo, who shared a look with him.

“Whipped.” Enzo fake-coughed into his hand, getting a laugh from Theo before dodging a shoe Mattheo threw at him and laughing himself.

“I’m not whipped.”

I bought these really sick lights if you wanna come over

They tried to scam me twice

But look

They both can change colors

Like that

I don't wanna leave my house

'Cause in here I'm the ruler

With my refrigerator

Full of Pacific Cooler

But for you I'd brave all the traffic outside

The way you brave all the bullshit I hold inside

You knocked on the door to his dorm at the agreed time, greeted by Mattheo opening his door only seconds later, smiling at you. You both agreed to just wearing comfy clothes, and he looked so good in his sweats and a tee-shirt, his hair was slightly wet from a shower not too long ago. He couldn’t help the flutter in his heart seeing you out of your school uniform. 

“Hey, come in.” He said, moving to let you come in.

You stepped inside his dorm, looking around.

“I got a bunch of snacks and drinks. I remember you told me about this muggle drink you had as a kid so I found some. Wanted to try it with you.” He said, closing the door behind you, watching you nervously as you looked around his dorm. He spent hours deep cleaning it, but if you asked, he was always this clean.

“Thanks. You didn’t need to do all that.” You said and turned around to smile at him.

Your smile. He nearly felt his heart stop. He nearly blurted out ‘I’d do anything for you’ but stopped himself. “Hey, look at this.” He said, trying to turn your attention off of him and calm himself down as he grabbed a remote off his desk and changed the lights in his room from the warm yellow to green, then to red, then blue, then purple.

Oh it's true

(Ooo)

I'm a little bitch for you now

I'm a little bitch

Oh my God

Did I say that too loud?

It's true

I'm a little bitch for you now

I don't wanna say it way too loud

But I'm a little bitch for you now

You both laid down in his bed, watching the horror movies on his tv, snacks scattered between you. His heart was pounding, but it wasn’t from the movie. If you paid enough attention, you could feel his leg bouncing from nerves. He made funny commentary, sounding relaxed. His eyes bounced between you and the tv, making sure you were comfortable and the movie wasn’t bothering you. 

He finally turned his head to look at you fully, watching the light from the tv dance across your face, looking at the little details on your face.

“You okay?” You asked, looking back at him.

“Yeah, just…” He trailed off, not taking his eyes off of you.

He reached a hand over to cup your cheek, leaning closer until his lips hovered over yours. He stayed there for a moment, just looking in your eyes before connecting his lips with yours softly. He really didn’t even know what he was doing. His body took over before his mind could catch up. His mind finally did catch up when he felt you kiss him back. He only parted from you when he needed to breathe, and even then, he was only inches from your face, a huge grin breaking across his.

If you want to see me

Acting so desperately

(I could freestyle you a verse)

So desperately

(Or maybe a hook)

All you gotta do is stop texting me

(I bought these paintings to impress you)

(Did it work?)

Just to flex on me

Theo woke up to his dorm door being thrown open by Mattheo.

“What the fuck do you want?” Theo groaned, rolling over to check the time on his phone.

“They didn’t text back again. You think I fucked up with the kiss?” Mattheo asked, coming over to the side of his bed.

“It is 2 IN THE MORNING! THEY’RE SLEEPING! LIKE I WAS!” Theo yelled, angry that Mattheo woke him up for something so stupid.

Mattheo frowned at him for a moment. “So you don’t think I fucked up with the kiss?”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” Theo yelled and threw a pillow at him.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

@schaebickel tagging you since you liked my last one :)

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[calliesmemes]

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

[yngtort]

— double or nothin

chan | lino | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

NSFW ★

──────────

xfem!reader • poly relationship • double!pen mdni — in which chan and bin convinces you to try something new with them .

you’re kinky.

as fuck, actually.

You’d would literally anything your boyfriends, changbin and chan, wanted to do. From common foreplay to outside adventures. You were down for the count. but there was one thing you just wouldn’t— no— couldn’t do.

Anal.

Even the word makes you cringe and doing that act was definitely out of the question. Both of your boyfriends had came to you on multiple occasions, asking to do it. They wanted something knew, other than the taking turns fucking your cunt or one of them nuzzling into your throat.

You questioned if they would even know what they were doing— to which Changbin replied : “of course, I’m an ass connoisseur.”

an eyeroll and scoff is how you ended the conversation. Your ass had a beaming exit sign on it and you intended on keep it that way.

the topic of Anal still came up but it was subtle. Little jokes saying you were a wuss started to get under your skin. So much to the point where you asked your friends about it.

“It’s not that bad, girl.” One of them said with a shrug, “if he knows what he’s doing you should be good.”

He’s a connoisseur apparently.

you friend goes on to explain the whole process. Spilling about how her partner had her “reaching for the gods above” or something like that.

once again, you try to shake the idea out of your head. The key word here is try.

But the curiosity was gnawing at your brain, fucking around with your senses. You became hyper aware of your boyfriends touches. you shy away when Chris cups one of your cheeks and when bin slaps it, you get mad.

the boys noticed your behavior and they used it as a chance to make you cave. Day by day, they grew even more handsy. rubbing it, squeezing it, patting it—until you just can’t take it anymore.

Now you’re all oiled up as you ease yourself down on Chris’s shaft, cunt savoring each inch. “F-fuck..” you spluttered, mouth hung open as you chase after your breaths.

“there you go, sweet girl, that’s it.” Chris praises. His hands kneading the dips in your hips.

“Look at you two,” changbin chimes in, as he settles himself behind you. “Havin fun without me.”

“Jealous much?” the older asks.

changbin rolls his eyes, gently pushing you down until your chest hits Chris’s. “not at all.” Bin says, hands getting a fist full of your ass. Meanwhile, his eyes were full of the sight of your cunt filled with the others girth.

“Liar.” “Am not.”

You interrupt their yapping with a whine. “Guys, please.” you beg, hips circling against Chris with need. They both chuckle at your eagerness.

“Alright, alright.” behind you, you can hear the a bottle of lube being popped open. Changbin lathers his fingers, along with your hole, with the Icy gel. goosebumps cover your skin from the coldness and you inadvertently clench.

“Relax, babe.” Chris coaxes through a grunt, hands soothingly rubbing your back. You hum, burying your face into his neck, sucking on it to get your mind off of things.

changbin takes that as a cue to continue. He slips a finger into your surprisingly accepting hole. His eyebrows raise as he easily adds two more, making you moan into Chris’s neck.

“you’re taking this too well.” changbin says, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Don’t tell me you’ve been…”

“Y-you’re too big for me not to prepare ahead of time.” you admit and chris laughs under you, calling you cute.

“Yea? How much preparation are we talkin?”

“enough for you to fuck me already.”

changbin snickers, pulling out his fingers and replacing them with the head of his dick. he grunts as your hole wraps around him. “Still so fuckin tight.”

The stretch has your mouth open. long moans spilling from your lips like water as you’re filled with the second girth of the day.

“Good girl, you’re doing well.” Chris whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he slowly starts thrusting up into your cunt.

Meanwhile bin did the opposite.

“Slut,” he degraded, gifting your ass with a sharp slap before fucking you like his life depended on it. “To think you were acting like you didn’t want this. I knew a whore like you would.”

As each of them pump into you, your brain melts. Unable to comprehend a single thing except for the two men that you were sandwiched between.

Shit, It was hard to even do that.

When changbin would pull out, chris would slide back in. You couldn’t get a break as you withered away in their hold.

“Channie, fuck, binnie” was as about the only words you could form.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” Chris asks in an almost tantalizing voice.

“I don’t think it’s enough, actually.” changbin said before giving the older a look. You obviously don’t notice it, too busy whining and crying into your boyfriend’s chest.

It’s till Chris’s pace starts matching bins, when you realize that they had put too much thought into this. You could feel both of them rub together, somewhere in your guts, and it had you…

What did your friend say?

Reaching for the gods above.

you clench both holes, signaling to your partners that you’re close to cuming and they don’t stop working their way through you. Hips slapping against each-other as they lead you to your high.

“That’s it baby, let it all go.” you unravel at Chris’s words, body trembling as you cling on to him desperately. He pulls you into a calming kiss, tongue slipping its way into your hot cavern and swallowing up every sob.

After you finished, the boys continued to bottom out. Thrust gradually getting sloppy and losing rhythm until they’re twitching for release.

“Gonna fill both your holes” Bin rasps from behind, fingers digging into your skin as he Rails you. “fill ya’ till ya’ pop, yea?”

“Mhm, been s’good, need it.” You babble out,

“then we’ll give it to you, bub.” Chris says and he delivers right after.

it just takes a few more thrusts till their both pouring their seed into you. your whole body shutters, warmth engulfing you in a white cloud.

Changbin slowly pulls out, watching as his cum seeps from your hole and onto Chris’s thighs. “Fuck, that was..”

“amazing.” Chris finishes breathlessly, “right, y/n?” He calls, but is only answered with your soft snores.

“Poor girl, we wore her out. Let her sleep.” Changbin chuckled, kissing the back of your neck.

“But bin,”

“Yea?”

“Im still inside.”

:(

NNI : this was supposed to be in kinkmas but now that I completely botched that, I’m posting it for fun— as gift and part of my apology for leaving yall high and dry😞

Tinytags (comment to be added) : @sydnerss @sunnyyangie @panjakes @foxinnie8 @inniescandy-01

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Picture Perfect - Smallville!Clark Kent x Reader

A/N: Inspired by the song Picture Perfect by Angela Via. pairing: Smallville!Clark Kent x f! reader warnings/content: fluff, mutual pining, one singular swear word. word count: 2.2k

I should be yours, baby, you should be mine. Meant to be, can’t you see? We’re picture perfect”

Clark watched as you chewed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly as you glanced over the notes in your binder, written in your vibrantly feminine script, large and looping letters forming your thoughts on the page, written in your favourite pink gel pen, as you always did. He couldn’t help but smirk at how even your notes looked like they were transcribed by Barbie herself, but as silly as the thought of media law scrawled out in pink glittering ink in your flourished handwriting was, he loved that about you. He loved that your bubblingly bright personality had its way of working itself into every aspect of your life, including your studying methods. 

His piercing Kryptonian blue eyes continued to stare over at you, fixated on the way your hand gracefully glided across the page as you wrote, your fingers curled just so around your pen. He was fascinated by the way you could make even the most simple of tasks, like holding a pen, appear elegant. He knew he had it bad for you, he had for as long as he could remember, since you met. His friends would often tease him about diving in head first when he fell in love, and he tried to work on it in an effort to protect himself from getting hurt, but with you, he knew it was useless. He may not have had many weaknesses, but you were one of the few things that could stop him dead in his tracks. 

“Clark? You ok?” 

You had looked up from your notes to see Clark seemingly staring off into space at you, unable to break his focus from his thoughts. He chuckled nervously before pointing at his open text book on the table and nodding his head. 

“Yeah, I’m fine!” He said, trying to sound confident and hide his embarrassment as she caught him staring.

You tossed your textbook closed and shoved it across the table in front of you with a tired laugh. Straightening your ponytail, you let out an exasperated sigh before rubbing your hand inbetween your thumb and index finger.

“I’m starving, and my hand is cramped up, ready to go grab something to eat? I think if I have to read anymore of this I might implode,” you laughed, shaking your head as you stood up from your seat.

“Yeah, yeah I could go for something to eat. Pizza?” Clark laughed softly, raising an eyebrow as he followed behind you. 

He tried to keep his gaze upwards, focusing on anything but your backside as you walked in front of him out of the library. He had to congratulate himself on his willpower - resisting the urge for his eyes to drift downwards, tracing the shape of your curves as you walked. He caught up beside you, chuckling as he pretended to jog up beside you. If anything, it was harder work to pretend he couldn’t keep up with your strides than it was to actually jog, he could run from Kansas to California in a matter of seconds. In fact, he’d often thought about doing just that. He’d worked so hard to keep his secret from everyone, including you, as much as he hated hiding things from you. He loved you, and he trusted you, but he was terrified of how you’d respond. Would you be afraid of him? Would you stop speaking to him? Would you think he was crazy and tell everyone he’d gone insane? The more he’d thought about telling you, the more he realized he’d rather continue the facade he’d created than have any chance of losing you. Having you in his life and not knowing the truth about him was better than telling you and not having you there at all. 

“Clark, are you sure you’re ok? You keep spacing out on me.” 

Your laughter rang out through Clark’s ears - he could easily list it in his top favorite sounds, second only to the way his name sound when it fell from your lips, making it sound like an answered prayer every time you said it. Clark had it bad for you, and he knew that if he continued to hold it in, it’d end up forcing you away, but he’d been through this before with friends, and it rarely ended in his favor. The last thing he wanted was to push you away, either due to him revealing his true feelings, revealing his secret or by continuing to ignore how he felt for you. His own happiness aside, he knew ignoring his long-standing feelings towards you was the easiest solution. He ran a hand through his thick dark hair for a moment and chuckled awkwardly, his piercingly bright blue eyes glancing over at you as he spoke.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just thinking,” He said, trying his best to be reassuring but he couldn’t help but think he was failing miserably at it. 

“Oh, that’s what that smell is?” You teased, giving Clark a playful shove of the shoulder as you spoke. 

Clark rolled his eyes and gave you one of his infamous smirks, the kind that had most girls you knew weak in the knees. Clark had often been told he had a nice smile, but he was also oblivious when women found him attractive. Half of the time he had no idea when someone was flirting with him, and the other half of the time, he didn’t know how to respond to or reciprocate the flirting. The best he could do was flash a sweet, charming smile someone’s way and be his usual kind-hearted self, which was how he liked it best. He hated the idea of having to work for someone’s attention. With you, however, he found himself wanting to try. He wanted to flirt with you, he just had no idea where to begin.

He held the door to the pizza place on campus open for you, giving you another one of his warm, heart-melting smiles as he gestured for you to enter first with the motion of one of his long, muscular arms, the sleeve of his navy blue sweater shifting up on his wrist slightly as he moved, the arms just a little short for his frame. At six-foot-four and the majority of his height in his legs, Clark’s clothes were often just that half inch too short, often masked by pushing his sleeves up or by the shoes he wore. 

Little did Clark know, while he was busy admiring your every feature, you were doing the same to him - the way his blue eyes would light up and shine when he smiled was enough to make you swoon. The way he always acted like a total gentleman around you, holding doors, pulling out your chair, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, it was enough to make your heart flutter and race each time. The way he’d talk about his mom’s homemade pies back on his family farm in Smallville, the way he’d sing her praises and humbly brag about how her baking was famous across their little town. He’d always jokingly offer to bring you a slice the next time he went home to visit her, teasing you that despite the fact it wouldn’t be at its freshest, it’d still be the best slice of pie you’d ever eaten. You loved all these things about him, as well as the way he cared for everyone - he was always doing whatever he could to be a good person, which was a rarity a lot of the time on campus at Metropolis University, but you treasured his difference from the other men on campus. 

To anyone else who saw the two of you sitting together in the pizza parlour that day, they would have sworn you were on a date - the longing, loving stares at each other, exchanged stolen glances and sweet smiles, blushing red cheeks and nervous laughter - all the signs of a budding romance sparking between two young lovers. To the two of you though, it was one-sided, guarded feelings - scared to make the first move, scared to let feelings become known, anxious about how the other might respond, worried about whether or not your feelings might be showing through too much to the other party. You and Clark occasionally got comments about how sweet of a couple the two of you made from passersby, usually elderly women who’d say it as they passed through, commenting how it reminded them of how they were years ago when they first met their husbands, giving you a wink about how Clark was a keeper, or telling Clark to continue being the gentleman he is. The comments were always met with blushing cheeks from both of you, an awkward chuckle and thank you from Clark and a polite smile from you, but unbeknownst to the both of you, you and Clark both secretly felt your hearts flutter in agreeance to the compliment, hoping the other would agree too. 

Clark finished his pizza, pushing his plate away from his body on the table slightly, letting out a satisfied sigh as he reached for his glass of soda, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. He peered over the glass at you, stealing a glance as you blushed to yourself, biting your bottom lip for a second, appearing deep in thought as you sat across from him. Clark wrestled with whether or not he should finally bite the bullet and tell you how he felt. After a few moments of his own deep concentration, he decided tonight was as good a night as ever to finally talk to you about his feelings and find out where he stood with you. He set his glass down, clearly appearing uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat. You tried not to notice his discomfort as you finished eating, and the two of you left to head back to the dorm building in silence. When you reached the front steps of the building, having had enough of the piercing silence and avoiding eye contact that had taken place the whole walk home. 

“Listen, I need to talk to you,” Clark said as he shifted the weight of his backpack on his shoulder awkwardly, looking around at the sky, trying to focus his eyesight on anything but your face as he spoke in an effort to avoid the awkwardness that he felt would inevitably come with what he was about to confess to you. 

“About what?” You raised an eyebrow as you took in a sharp inhale of air, holding your breath as you hoped he wouldn’t be saying how he met someone or how he thought the two of you could use some space.

“I think you and I should…discuss our relationship, going forward,” Clark shook his head as he chuckled awkwardly and held his hands up for a moment in surrender, “That sounded better in my head, let me try again?”

“I really like you,” Clark finally sighed with a nod of his head, “I’m not good at this, I know I never say the right things, and I know everyone tells me I’m blind to stuff like this, but I really like you. All of you. Everything there is to love about you.”

Clark looked at your bewildered expression, unsure of what to say, but fearing in that moment that he’d just fucked up the only thing he knew he wanted to cling to in life, the one thing that helped him retain some sense of normalcy, some sense of humanity in life while he was living away from Smallville. After a moment of awkward silence had passed, a strained, awkward sounding laugh fell from his lips, almost out of desperation to fill the void that was lingering between you both now.

“I like you too. All of you. And, I know you’re…different, Clark, I don’t know what it is, or how to explain it, but I know you’re not like most people. And I don’t care. I like you anyways,” You finally said, nodding your head in confirmation of your words as you spoke.

Clark breathed out a heavy sigh and laughed, shaking his head, his thick, dark hair tousling slightly as he did so. His deep blue eyes looked at you again, sparkling and glistening as they always did when he smiled. He put a hand on your cheek gently, leaning in to give you a tender kiss. He’d kissed you on the cheek before in a friendly, affectionate kind of way, but this, this was different. This was a soft, tender kiss, full of passion and love for you, as if you were the only woman in the world. In a way, in Clark’s mind, you were, at least in this moment.  “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that, you know,” Clark murmured as he pulled away from your lips, smiling softly as he rested his forehead on yours, “As for the different thing…we’ll get to that.”

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Crushing!Jihoon

Fluff - Woozi x gn!reader

I have a crush on that boy, but what if he had a crush? 🤔

Word Count: 1k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────୨ৎ──── ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Jihoon cannot look you in the eyes. He usually is good about eye contact because he is very polite, but if he catches your eyes, he will quickly avert his gaze anywhere else. He still likes to talk to you, but he gets overwhelmed and lost in his thoughts if he’s looking straight into your eyes. Sometimes, he tries to look at your nose, so it will at least seem like he’s looking at you, but he still finds it too cute when you wrinkle it to laugh, so he ends up looking away anyway.

Jihoon rambles. A simple “Hello” will turn into him oversharing about his weekend, favorite show, or work. He cannot stop and your patient smile only encourages him to keep going. He eventually will realize and let a sentence trail off as his face turns red. He only stops being embarrassed when you reply with the same energy. You both end up yapping as much as possible, going from topic to topic almost randomly. Anyone listening in on the conversation would get lost because it’s like you have your own language together.

Jihoon can’t flirt. At all. It doesn’t come naturally to him. If he tries to be cute, he just gets embarrassed. He’s also afraid of being seen as a creep. You lightly flirt with him and he doesn’t notice. If you turn it up a little, he either misinterprets it or gets really awkward. He claims to be a direct person or the type to just be straight-forward and tell you, but, in reality, he will take his secret crush to the grave.

Literally everyone notices when Jihoon is crushing. He doesn’t realize how obvious he is when every other topic of conversation is you or what you like or what’s going on in your life. The other members joke about it quietly, but they make sure he doesn’t know or else it would end their favorite entertainment. They find it super fun to watch him get flustered around you then turn around like nothing happened. They even try to get him closer to you or leave you two alone together, just to eavesdrop or peek into the room to witness him freak out a little.

Jihoon writes a ton of love songs. They probably won’t see the light of day and some of them are just sentences in his notes app, but every beautiful melody he thinks of is inspired by you in some way (and some of the horny ones too). Fans would say that these types of songs were written with a pink glitter gel pen which is only true in vibes. He isn’t kicking his feet and writing in twirly handwriting, but his heart is whether he likes it or not.

Jihoon pretends to be nonchalant but remembers super specific things about you. Like, he’ll hand you your favorite obscure candy from your childhood that you told him about one time four months ago, and say something like “don’t make a big deal out of it” or “i just saw this and remembered”. In reality, it took him forever to find it and he wasn’t even sure if it was discontinued or not. He was about to look up a recipe for it to make it from scratch, but he found it, ordered it, then waited like a kid on Christmas for the package to arrive. He gives maximum effort for small details and pretends like it’s nothing.

It’s a lot easier to get Jihoon to open up than you think. He claims that he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his emotions when they are heavy, and he doesn’t always want to share his feelings so outwardly, but if you ask him like twice, he’ll tell you all about it. You can visibly see his shoulders un-tense when he tells you about his struggles. He trusts you and can’t keep anything from you. He’s also just bad at lying, so you can tell something is up with him almost immediately.

Jihoon doesn’t like physical touch BUT ONLY when he isn’t expecting it. He has to initiate the touching for it to be okay. You once tried to place your hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off instinctively. Later, he held onto your arm absent-mindedly. You learn to give him his space and wait for him to start anything physical. Once he does, you can reciprocate easily. He likes to put his arm behind you while sitting on the couch. You lean into him and he doesn’t flinch or move or anything. He touches you more often than anyone else which makes his crush on you so painfully obvious.

Jihoon has a Libra Venus in his astrology chart. From the moment he realized he liked you, he immediately envisioned your entire future together complete with four versions of a wedding, a life with kids, a life without kids, what your cat’s names would be, and every time he could tell the world that a song was dedicated to you. He thinks about different ways he could ask you on a date like he’s Doctor Strange looking into possible realities. It was easy for him to get a crush on you, and he can’t help but imagine it when he closes his eyes.

Jihoon is oblivious. You obviously like him and everyone can see it except for him. You always smile when he talks or laugh at his stupid jokes. You’re always caught up on his favorite anime (which you enjoy as well) just so that when he finally does watch them, you are ready to talk about it at a moment’s notice. You call him every night to make sure he’s wrapping up at work, and you offer to buy him food if he hasn’t eaten. You are one of the only reasons he takes a day off or goes outside to have fun when he’s not working. You’re always ready with a plan to hang out together. You want to be with him all the time. You stick to him like glue. And he just thinks that you're his really good friend. He can’t imagine that his crush likes him right back.

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

I had a thought…

What if Bucky got a sleeve tattoo on his flesh arm. His bulging muscles and all of that ink glistening with sweat after a workout. Imagine his controlled panting breaths when the needle punctures his skin. The way he kind of likes the pain and his lids drop lower, his eyes heavily on you as the tattoo artist marks his skin. It’s definitely a turn-on for him.

You enjoy sitting on the couch with him and absentmindedly tracing your nails over all of the lines on the tattoos, until you get transfixed on the art and just stare at his arm all night, tracing shapes. And he just watches you – he’s always just watching you.

But you’ve been having a particularly tough week and Bucky, to surprise you, comes home with a little present. You bite back a smile when he hands it to you and spot the faintest blush on his freckled cheeks. He seems nervous to give you the present, a bit sheepish.

You peel off the wrapping paper, already enamoured that he thought to give you something on a bad day, and you reveal a set of tattoo gel pens. A giggle spurts out of you and you look up at him with amusement dancing in your eyes. Bucky scratches the back on his neck with uncertainty in his eyes.

“It’s for my tattoos,” he starts and decides he should elaborate when you raise your brows at him. “You always like touching them and maybe you’d like to colour them in…”

Another laugh makes it past your lips and Bucky is satisfied enough at the sound. “They have glitter in them,” you tell him like he isn’t aware of the fact.

He shrugs, “I know. It’s… prettier.”

Your heart swells about thousand times its original size and you throw your arms around his neck. He hugs you back tightly, one hand moving to stroke your hair. The excitement alone is enough to settle something inside of him – the part of him that just wants to make sure you’re alright.

Later that evening, you’re watching a movie and whip out the pens. Bucky watches you with amusement as you pick out your colours and settle on your knees next to him. All focused and content, you colour each and every piece of his tattoos with beautiful, glittery colours. It’s a therapeutic activity, tracing the lines and watching the glitter shimmer. Bucky enjoys the gentle touches and the light tickling of the pens on his skin.

Both your knees press into the couch cushions, settled on each side of his arm and Bucky notices just how convenient his hand placement is. He watches your face and can’t help but inch his hand up against your thigh. He notices a small twitch in your face at the touch and the briefest of pauses in your movements, and Bucky has to bite back his smirk when you continue what you’re doing like nothing’s going on at all.

His thumb strokes up your thigh and his fingers toy with the thin fabric of your pyjama shorts. He knows for a fact you aren’t wearing any underwear underneath and he slips past the fabric to brush his fingers over your pussy. He’s delighted to find you wet and excited and explores you luxuriously, stroking and teasing as you continue to decorate him. Your breaths turn heavier and your hips twitch at his teasing. Bucky notices the frown on your face, your neediness visibly growing.

He leans closer and nuzzles his nose up your neck, smiling at the soft breath you let out. “You’re wet, baby,” he murmurs and you let out a soft noise. “Is the glitter turning you on?” he teases.

Just as you try to scoff at his teasing, his thumb presses into your clit and you clutch onto his bicep for something to keep you from sinking yourself down onto his hand. You roll your hips and Bucky takes it as his sign to keep going, steadily rolling his thumb over your clit until your thighs tremble.

His middle finger glides over your core and you clench tightly, gel pens completely forgotten when his mouth attaches itself to the sensitive skin in your neck. You whine softly and his finger pushes into you.

Bucky groans needily at the feel of you and his metal arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer. You climb over him until you’re fully straddling his lap and Bucky’s metal hand slides up your spine, into your hair. He pulls you down onto his lips and slips another finger into you, swallowing your moans greedily.

“Bucky,” you breathe against his mouth and he hums reassuringly.

His fingers curl into your spot and you find it hard to keep kissing him. But he presses you closer, his tongue delving into your mouth as his flesh hand continues to pump into you, the friction as he glides in and out driving you crazy.

“Feels good, huh?” His voice sounds cocky and a bit breathless as he presses your forehead to his, eyes piercing into yours. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, your lips parted in pleasure. “Now who would I be if I didn’t use my hand for good when you make it look so pretty?” He smirks and slows his hand, the action somehow driving you that much closer to the edge. “And what better use for me than to make you feel good… There’s no better feeling than your cunt around my fingers, you know that?” Your hips stutter their movement at his filthy words and you give him pleading eyes.

Your belly tightens and your moans grow more frequent. Bucky doesn’t give you any chance to look away from him, his fingers steadily tangled into your hair and his mouth occasionally nipping at your lips. His eyes are glazed with sex and it turns you on that much more. His low brows, his full mouth, his flexing muscles.

“You going to come for me?” he asks and you nod your head desperately. He laughs and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Come for me, baby. Give me what I want.”

And you do. And he eats it up.

And then, Bucky finds a lot of creative way to incorporate those glittery gel pens. Like marking every spot he likes to kiss you. Every spot he likes to be kissed. And licked. Every place on him that you can use as a seat.

The dork has enough pride to walk around with a glittery arm, too. He’ll take all of Sam’s relentless teasing, that view of you innocently decorating his arm with gel pens and the view of you not-so-innocently decorating his hand with your come steadily on his mind.

[lov1ngreid]

BOYS LIKE YOU | 3

(pairings): high school!spencer + cheerleader!reader

(warnings): mentions of blood

(word count): 3.2k

(author’s note): this chapter’s a little short but i wanted to have something out for you guys! the next chapter will be the last (thank god) also not proofread so bare with me, but merry christmas!

listen to what i did when i wrote this! ➘

“A practice date?” Gianna spits, confusion painting her pretty tanned face while she shoves her fork into whatever cafeteria food was served that day “come. on.” she groans only to shoot another displeased look in your direction, you only decide look up at her from your textbook when she began to get just a little too loud. Silencing her with your eyes, she only rolls hers in response before moving her attention back to her food.

“I didn’t know what to say!” you whisper-yell scanning your surroundings quickly to make sure nobody other than her could hear your conversation, she quickly raises one eyebrow, completely unsatisfied with your answer “and you can’t talk” you shoot back at her raising your right hand to point your gel pen at her face.

“you’re the one who called her over in the first place! I was just gonna let him wander around until he got to nervous and gave up” quickly, you take an opportunity to glance down the end of the cafeteria table where Sadie sat, completely indulged in her own conversation.

Gianna purses her lips thinking, before deciding to hold her hands up in defence “to be honest I kinda wanted to see your reaction” she chuckles to herself for a moment earning a slap to the wrist from you, you shake your head for a moment, absolutely not impressed by her answer.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment, your pen quickly jotting down notes from your history textbook while your cold cafeteria lunch sat beside you “If you’re not gonna eat it can I?” Gianna asks already grabbing your red tray from your side before you could answer, she knew your answer before you said it.

Nodding quickly before turning your attention back to your notes, the cafeteria chatter fills your ears causing you to zone into your notes “uh oh” you hear Gianna’s half full mouth admit pulling your attention from your notes onto her. Eyes wide, her stare is set down the left side of the long cafeteria table and you can’t help but follow her gaze down the rows of blue and white cheerleading uniforms before they land on one in particular.

Sadie Keller, her dark cherry red hair and perfect manicured nails, perfect manicured nails that happened to be in someone’s hair.

Spencer Reid’s hair.

You felt like your eyes were quite literally bludging out of your head from how hard you were staring, Sadie sat next to him giggling as she raked her hands through his pretty brown hair, dragging them down his arms while they chatted to other girls on the team.

“He’s cute right” Ivy leans into you, her eyes also glued on the two at the end of the table “I didn’t even know he went here” she adds tilting her head a little causing her long blonde ponytail to tilt with her.

“You called him a freak nerd last period” Gianna mentions from across the table “to his face” she adds a disgusted look filling her face as she waited for Ivy’s response.

“Oh” she deadpans looking between Gianna and then Spencer again “was that him?” She asks obliviously cocking her head once more, Gianna nods her head in response “oh well he’s cute” she shrugs completely unaware of her insensitivity while she goes back to whatever conversation she was indulging in prior.

You felt every emotion bubble in the pit of your stomach, you had to look away before you screamed in her face. The worst part was you couldn’t even blame Sadie, Spencer was cute and funny, and incredibly smart, and if you knew he was Sadie’s tutor maybe you’d make up some sort of terrible lie about him so she wouldn’t like him. Which in hindsight would be horrible of you, but maybe it would’ve prevented having to see such a disgusting scene play out in front of you.

Although every possible emotion swirled inside of you, you didn’t know which one would win until you felt your eyes stinging a little while they brimmed with soft salty tears, mortified you were about to cry in front of the whole cheer team you slammed your books shut earning a few looks from your peers around you, gathering them to your chest before rushing from the cafeteria to the quiet unoccupied hallway.

Small sniffles followed your footsteps as you turned the corner to find your locker clicking it open angrily sliding your books into their respective spots. Pathetic was the only word you could describe yourself in that moment, standing at your locker alone, crying over a boy who had absolutely no interest in you.

The silence in the hallway is calming, only the distance sound of cafeteria chatter and quiet squeaky footsteps from a passerby.

“Hi” a male voice chirps snapping you from your Spencer induced brain fog, almost knocking the wind from you in shock.

“Oh my god- you scared me” you breath grasping your chest a little, your eyes widen at your state, turning away from him a little to quickly wipe the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“I’m sorry” he laughs a little, his brows furrowing as you turn around “I just wanted to ask if we were still practice dating tonight?” a concerned look painted across his face as you turned back, he noticed your eyes immediately.

Arguably his favourite thing about you.

“Are you okay?” He questions noticing your nose red from rubbing it, and the small sniffles escaping while he talked, he could tell you were crying, he just didn’t know why.

“I’m fine” you mumble moving your books around not daring to make eye contact with him, instead facing your locker while you conversed “And we might have to reschedule, I’m really busy-” you continue.

“Please?” he whispers, eyes widening under his glasses leaning in a little closer in attempts for you to look at him, your actions freeze at his words huffing in defeat, you turn to face him for a moment.

Only then he got a clear view of your face, your pretty eyes covered with a thin layer of glassy tears that were on the brink of falling he could almost see his reflection in them, your long thick eyelashes darkened with your tears “Fine” you nod, your eyes dropping down to avoid his stare, frankly it was making you a little nervous.

It was like your next movements where a calculated blur, grabbing your textbooks before slamming your locker shut to brush past Spencer without another word. Sniffles following as you made your way down the hall, silently cursing yourself out on the way to your next class.

You didn’t know why seeing him with someone else had worked you up so much, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. You knew he didn’t like you, if you hadn’t been so desperate to hang out with him you wouldn’t have picked up the stupid letter, you brought this on yourself.

But Spencer’s heart did the thing again when he watched you walk down the hall.

You spent what felt like the whole of fifth period stealing glances at Spencer, which was absolutely not discrete since you always sat in front of him and you could only check the clock that hung on the back of the classroom wall so many times before it became suspicious, if it wasn’t already.

You absolutely could not recall a singular word your teacher had spoken about, your mind completely fogged with thoughts of Sadie’s stupid hair and stupid nails dragging across Spencer’s locks or the way she dragged his glasses off his face which made you glad you didn’t eat lunch.

So when Mrs. Abernathy claimed you’d be splitting off into partners, you wanted to grab Spencer’s arm and yank him away from Sadie but you knew you couldn’t. You had to settle for Ethan not a bad choice in hindsight he was the smartest hockey player so you knew he’d at least would’ve been paying attention unlike you.

But you weren’t the only one who’s mind was absolutely full with thoughts of another, Spencer’s head felt sore at how much he was thinking of you, his heart ached at the sight of you upset, and as much as he hated it he couldn’t control it.

“I’m excited for this weekend” the pretty red head giggled under her large plastic goggles, Spencer’s head turned at the sound of her voice, snapping him from his gaze on you, he watched as she twisted the gas valve attached to the bunsen burner.

“What?” Spencer mutters in response as she lifts her head to meet his, his eyes widen in realisation “oh!” He rushes, absolutely mortified he had forgotten “ice skating, of course! I’m so excited” he scrambles quickly as her face began to drop, it quickly picks up at his words before she continues to quickly strike a match.

His eyes wander from the pages of his poorly written notebook, to the silver work bench across from him. The work bench that you were at, your teary eyes replaced by being slightly scrunched in laughter at whatever the curly haired brunette boy had muttered in your ear. Spencer’s eyes furrowed at the sight.

What could he possibly be saying to make you laugh?

“They’re cute right?” Sadie chirps holding a clear glass beaker while she swirled the blue liquid with a stirring stick, snapped out of his gaze once again, his face painted with confusion, he turns to face Sadie for a moment without a word, she seems equally confused at his silence before placing the beaker down for a moment “Ethan and y/n?” she adds in hopes of him understanding.

“Are they dating?” He rushes quickly grabbing the beaker from the bench before swirling the liquid himself.

Sadie giggles a little before responding “No I don’t think so” going back to write a little in her note book “She doesn’t really date, doesn’t stop guys from trying” she goes on to say, focused on her neatly lined notes, failing to notice Spencer’s usually pale pink knuckles suddenly turning white with how hard he was gripping the glass beaker.

“Okay! So we just have to add- Spencer!” Sadie shrieks as the glass shatters in his hand spilling the liquid all over the both of them, shards of glass piercing into his skin. He’s shocked at her reaction at first, completely unknowing of the mess he had made all over the bench, and her cheerleading uniform. “I just steam pressed this” Sadie claims eyes glued onto her now, blue stained uniform.

“Mr. Reid” Mrs.Abernathy states only the tiniest bit of concern lacing her statement “Please go to the nurse you’re bleeding all over my bench” she bores again, Spencer’s state only earns a giggle from you, concerned of course, but his deer in headlights stance and absolute silence, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“And Ms. Y/L/N, since you think it’s so funny you can take him” your quiet laughing stops at her stern words.

“But-”

“Now” She adds with not an ounce of sympathy dripping from her words, your eyes snap from her to Spencer who stood picking pieces of glass from his hand, you physically cringed at the sight before a groan escapes your lips. His eyes meet yours for a moment, your eyes rolling seemed to be the only appropriate response before you nod your head towards the door ushering him to follow you.

The silence in the unoccupied hallways was deafening, only the sounds of your shoes squeaking filling the air, you could hear Spencer whimpering a tiny bit behind you, you swore it took your whole strength not to turn around and tell him to shut-up, but you knew whatever you were angry at wasn’t technically his fault.

Your shoes squeaked a little louder as you both took a sharp turn into the nurses office, almost immediately greeted with a high pitched “oh my gosh!” The nurse squeaked as she saw the state of Spencer holding his bloody glass punctured hand “sit down!” She adds patting the examination table beckoning for Spencer, he responds with a weak nod before complying.

You weren’t sure on whether you were meant to leave or stay with Spencer in this situation, of course a part of you wanted to stay with him, comfort him until he felt better. But another part of you wanted to leave him there, claiming that if Sadie cared enough she’d be here instead of you.

But you stayed.

“y/n can you wrap it up for me I just have to grab something from across the hall” the nurse rushed holding a plastic bag with shards of red stained class, she barely looked up for an answer from you before zipping the bag up and rushing for the door.

“But Kate-”

“Just do it” she calls out, her small frame already half way out the door before you could even protest, your eyes shift back to Spencer who sat slumped on the table while he meekly sent a smile in your direction.

Despite your resistance, you sighed a little before reaching towards the top shelf grabbing alcohol spray and bandages before moving to meet Spencer at the table “this is gonna hurt a little okay?” You mumble gently grabbing his skinny wrist, turning it so his injured hand faced you, you bit your lip in concentration as you lined up the alcohol to spray at his wounds.

He winced a little at the sting before nodding for you to continue, you couldn’t help but enjoy the small whimpers falling from his lips, you felt perverted for it, but you were sure anyone would agree. It also made you realise how big his hands were in comparison to yours, you wanted so badly to just be able to hold it, for it to touch you.

You looked up at his face for a moment, watching how he caught his bottom lip in his teeth, eyes focused on his hand in pain, that was enough to make you huff with a loss of breath.

Cleaning up his hand, you toss his bloody gauze into the bin quickly turning to face away from him to wash your hands “you call Nurse Abbott, Kate?” He mutters, frowning as he takes a look at the state of his hand.

You pause for a second, brows knitting at his question, you hadn’t even realised you had called her that it had become normal to you “yeah I don’t know I’m in here a lot” you mumble in response back turning around to grab a dressing “I get migraines sometimes so she lets me sit in here” you continue, lining up the dressing on the biggest cut on his hand.

You couldn’t help yourself but stare at the lines and creases in his hands while you tended to him, the way his veins popped when would accidentally clench at the stinging was enough for you to bite your lip in frustration.

“You still get those?” He adds finally looking up from his hand to you, his eyes zoning on your the way your pretty eyebrows furrowed in concentration, your long eyelashes and pretty pump lips, licking them every now and then.

“You remember” Mumbling you toss the dressing wrappers away not daring to meet Spencer’s eyes while doing so.

“Yeah they used to scare me” he laughs while your hand brushes over his, memories of times you had to lay in a quiet pitch black room ran through your mind, and the way you’d yell at him if he opened the door letting the light in. You always felt bad for yelling at him, you knew he probably just wanted to play Mario kart so you’d bake him cupcakes to make up for it.

“Are we still fake dating tonight?” He adds, leaning his head down a little for his eyes to meet yours. You cringe a little at his wording cause selfishly, you didn’t want it to be a fake date, you wanted to real date him and you wanted him to real date you.

“Spence” you mutter no louder than a whisper, you don’t meet his eyes, instead focused on finishing up his hand “your hand” you mention looking up at him for a split second to look back down at his hand, coloured white with the bandage wrapped around it.

“It’s okay” he rushed “It doesn’t hurt that bad” now you didn’t buy that for a second, you surprised he didn’t need stitches and he was a terrible liar “I can hold onto the railing.. please” you were strong, you could admit that but the pleading along with his big round eyes beaming up at you almost twinkling under the fluorescent lighting.

“Maybe” you breathe, surprised you didn’t immediately say yes the minute he started begging.

He seemed momentarily satisfied with your answer “done” you whisper smiling back up at him, only you realised he was already looking at you, not just looking at you, but looking into you. His eyes exploring the depths of yours, like he was desperate to see behind them. And honestly he was, he wanted to be in your brain at this very moment, wanted to know what you were thinking, how you were feeling but he couldn’t tell, only noting the quick rise and fall of your chest and your glistening bottom lip as you licked it, you were nervous.

His eyes moved from your eyes, along your jawline and all across your face, counting every beauty spot every freckle, you both scanned each others faces, searching for something you couldn’t even answer only the sounds of your breathes mixing in with each other filling the what felt like warm air.

Your eyes both meet each others for a second, brows furrowing in curiosity, your eyes faulting from his eyes to his lips, disparity fuelling in the pit of your stomach.

“Okay!” A voice booms from the corridor adjacent to the door “oh! y/n I didn’t think you’d wrap it so quickly” she adds looking up from her clipboard at the both of you.

You must’ve looked like a deer in headlights, both pulled from the depths of your gaze on each other, you’d never seen him look at you like that, and honestly you didn’t even know what it meant. You’d never seen him look at anyone like that.

“Sorry” you mumble a little sheepishly, dropping Spencer’s hand into his lap which you were unaware you were still holding, embarrassed that you had pretty much eye fucked him “I’ll go now” nodding at Kate before attempting to make your way to the doorway, but not without Spencer’s uninjured hand grabbing your wrist.

“Tonight?” He queried again tilting his head to the side like a puppy dog, his big brown eyes shining in your direction which absolutely did not help your case.

Your mind fights it for a little, there was no way he should be out ice skating with an injured hand, and you also didn’t really want to go after seeing the way him and Sadie were getting to know each other in the cafeteria. But despite all that, you selfishly just wanted to feel like you were the one on a date with him.

“Please” he whispers his lanky hand still gently gripping your wrist.

Yep that’ll do it

“Fine” you groan, defeat dripping from your words rolling your eyes in annoyance, false annoyance.

It was hard to act annoyed when the biggest grin grew on his pretty little face, you would’ve almost forgotten that his hand had pretty much been mauled by a glass beaker.

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[jeonqkooks]

Can I request first time obs jungkook realized he started to have feelings for oc?

our beloved summer; a drabble

Jungkook likes lavender and jasmine. He likes navy blue sweaters and a perpetually grumpy face, looking a black cat who’s just been disturbed from slumber. He likes gold rings on dainty hands, black nail polish almost always covering neatly trimmed nails. He likes New York Yankees baseball caps on bad hair days.

Jungkook looks for that intoxicating scent of lavender and jasmine wherever he goes, scrunching his nose in distaste every time he catches a whiff of some overwhelming floral perfume on someone that isn’t you.

At parties, he looks for the dainty hands with the black nail polish and golden rings, wrapped around a red solo cup. It always makes him smile widely in delight when he spots you in a corner, talking animatedly with Taehyung and Jimin.

He looks for that navy blue sweater and Yankees cap whenever he’s on campus, even on days where he knows you aren’t scheduled for class or a shift at the library. If he looks hard enough, thinks about you hard enough, then maybe you’d pop up for whatever random reason - to bug a professor into reading the essay you wrote for extra credits, to stop by the campus cafe because you have a massive craving for their watered down chai latte, to show up just because there’s a certain someone silently manifesting that you would.

Jungkook likes pretentious Moleskine journals and 0.7mm Muji gel ink ballpoint pens. He likes the vivid scowl in your voice when he gets on your nerves and the middle finger you always flip him. He likes the tiramisu from that bakery down the street from Taehyung and Jimin’s apartment, just because you seem to like it so much. Hydrangeas remind him of you, so he likes them too.

Jungkook likes the things you like and he’s not sure why. He likes that these are the things that make you happy, that always bring a smile to your face and he likes seeing you smile. He’s almost never on the receiving end of said smile, but he still likes it.

He lays in bed, bored out of his mind and tempted to seek you out just to be a nuisane but he knows you’re in a class right now. He drifts back to what Taehyung said to him last night after he’d show up to the library, thinking he’d get to spend time with you but had found Taehyung instead.

“The whole ‘boy pulls girl’s pigtails’ approach you have going on is painfully obvious, you know.”

Jungkook isn’t stupid.

(Though if you were there at the time, he has no doubt that you would have argued the opposite.)

Maybe Jungkook does know why he likes the things you like. Maybe it’s because whenever they pop up in his head, you’re the one that always accompanies the thought and takes over his mind completely. Maybe that’s why he finds himself thinking about you before he goes to sleep just so you would show up in his dreams too. Maybe that’s why you’re often the first thing he thinks of shortly after opening his eyes in the morning, wondering if he’ll get to see you around that day.

Maybe it’s an explanation for why he feels so warm whenever he imagines your face even when he’s doing the most mundane of things, like walking to the corner store or putting away laundry.

Taehyung was right. Jungkook didn’t stop by the library on a random Wednesday evening because he wanted some bro bonding time. He wanted to come because you usually work Wednesdays, and the idea of keeping you company under the guise of bothering you sounded a lot better than staying home and daydreaming about you.

He then thinks about what Taehyung said before he left, calling him back just to tell him that like Jungkook, you wouldn’t be going home for the break either.

He doesn’t know why Taehyung told him that. Probably because he feels bad that neither him nor Jimin would be here in case you need them, not that you would admit if you needed them anyway. Or perhaps Taehyung was trying to give Jungkook a nudge in the right direction.

What direction that is, he can’t say for certain.

What he does know is he wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear that you’ll be spending the break by yourself while everyone else goes home to their family, because it sounds like something that would make you a little sad even if you’re not big on the holidays. He’s never seen you sad before, but the idea of it is one that he already hates.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to be alone. He doesn’t want you to be sad. He wants to see you smile and he wants to do everything in his power to make sure that you keep your smile, even if it isn’t directed at him.

No, he isn’t stupid. He isn’t stupid but he might still be a little dense sometimes. He supposes he’s known it all this time, known it for months since the second ever conversation you’ve had together. It’s no one’s fault but his own that it took Taehyung bringing it up for Jungkook to realize why the things you like are so endearing to him, why his heart does dumbass little skips to the mere thought of you.

[givemea-dam-break]

daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together. 

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers. 

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was. 

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet. 

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said. 

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest. 

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon’s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning. 

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his  mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said. 

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided. 

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest. 

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better. 

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.