#I'm getting those tugs and pulls of inspiration

[ultravionna]

rascals, saints, & inspirations ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

𐙚 matt dillon x younger.ᐟreader꒱

warnings: age-gap relationship, smut, swearing here and there, painter references (i'm such a geek), um can't think of any other warnings so that's it ig.ᐟ

a/n: first ever smut fic so go easy on me, i kinda like it it's cute lmao

⤷ *based on request linked here* ༉‧₊˚✧

the air in matt's studio was thick with the smell of paint and varnish, the kind that stuck to your clothes long after you'd left. it was a quiet space, hidden away in the upper west side, where the noise of the city barely reached you could hear the faint hum of traffic, but in here, it was just the two of you. he was working on something when you walked in, his back to you, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing those forearms you loved. his hair was slightly messy, and the focus on his face made you hesitate to disturb him. almost.

"you've been at it all day," you teased, stepping closer, letting your fingers glide along the edge of the wooden table covered with brushes, palettes, and half-finished canvases.

matt turned to you with a half-smile, but his eyes had that look-you knew that look well. it was the same one he gave when he'd pick you up from the airport, that quiet hunger hidden beneath soft chuckles and smooth words.

"could say the same about you," he muttered, eyes flicking to the phone you'd left on the table. you rolled your eyes, leaning against the table, crossing your arms. "i don't spend all my time editing."

he didn't reply, at least not with words. instead, he crossed the small space between you with a few easy strides, his hand finding your waist, pulling you closer with a gentleness that didn't match the heat in his eyes.

without warning, his hand slid under your shirt, fingers tracing your skin like he was painting something only he could see.

"matt-"

"c'mon…" he smirked, pulling you closer. "y'know i could use a little inspiration."

you groaned, feeling his cool fingers brush the small of your back as he looked down at you, eyes narrowed. "just don't get paint on my shirt, i have to film a brand deal before noon." you said, earning a sarcastic exhale and raised eyebrow from matt.

"uh huh." he dismissed, his arm wrapping around your waist, his right hand lifting to gently cradle the side of your face as he leaned in.

"matt, i'm serious.." you warned softly, but he kissed you before you could finish, his lips gentle but familiar, the kind that made you forget whatever you were going to say next. you melted into him, your hands resting against his chest.

he grumbled at the feel of your hands on him, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, keeping it slow, deliberate, and full of need. his hand moved to the side of your neck, gently holding you in place as the kiss grew more passionate by the second.

he could feel your body yielding against his, and it only fueled the heat between you. he deepened the kiss further, his tongue exploring your mouth with a slow, sensual hunger. his hand held your neck as he pulled you flush against him, guiding you back toward the sink, his other hand resting on your hip. breaking the kiss, his warm breath mingled with yours as he spoke.

"turn around for me."

turning around, your hands found the edge of the wooden table, fingertips grazing over the scattered art supplies. his current canvas lay just in front of you, half-finished, as if it were watching the scene unfold.

matt's eyes darkened with hunger as you followed his lead. he stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back, his hips aligned with yours. his hands roamed your body, exploring your curves with a slow, deliberate touch as he leaned in, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. he planted a soft kiss there before murmuring in that low voice.

"my good girl…"

you hummed softly at his praise, a small smirk tugging at your lips as he kissed your neck again. you shifted just slightly, pushing back against him, making matt chuckle against your skin. one of his hands left your waist, and the sound of him undoing his pants filled the quiet studio.

his breath hitched when you pressed into him, heat rising between the two of you. he chuckled again, lips still grazing the back of your neck as he teased, "eager?"

his grip on your hip loosened as his hands worked to undo your jeans, fingers tracing the soft skin of your thighs as he pulled the fabric down, letting it rest just above your knees. he left them there, enough to get what he wanted.

"maybe if you were free earlier like you said, i could've given you all the inspiration you needed," you quipped slyly.

your body moved beneath his touch, and matt growled softly against your skin, nipping at your neck as you spoke.

"teasing me, hm?"

his hands continued exploring your exposed skin, fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive spots on your thighs. he leaned down, his mouth close to your ear, breath hot against your skin. "i should punish you for that…"

you placed a hand on the table, looking back at him with a smirk. "punish? you think rembrandt had time to punish his muses between all those self-portraits? i bet he was more disciplined than that." matt smirked, pressing his body closer to yours, his hand sliding over yours on the table.

"oh, you think rembrandt controlled his muses? the guy dressed up in costumes just to amuse himself. trust me, he'd have taken a break for you." as he spoke, his other hand slid your tiny thong up to rest above your jeans. you leaned back against him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips.

"yeah? well, he was meticulous, wasn't he? you're always telling me how much he paid attention to the details. can you really call yourself an artist if you're not doing the same?"

matt pulled you closer by the hip, raising an eyebrow, "details, huh?" he murmured. his hand skimmed over your hip bone, voice low in your ear.

"let's talk about how rembrandt layered his oils, slowly, with patience. think you can handle that kind of pace?"

with that, matt took hold of himself behind you, lining up at your entrance, pressing just enough to slip in slightly before pulling back, teasing you with the slow rhythm.

you let out a little hum, fighting the grin that always seemed to come so easily with him.

"i'd say i'm more of a van gogh-impulsive, erratic, cutting right to the heart of it…" matt growled playfully, tightening his grip on you.

"careful, i might end up painting you like he did — bold, wild, unapologetic… unfinished." he quipped, pressing the tip of himself against you again, this time pushing in deeper with a force that made you hum, your body welcoming him easily.

"unfinished? you really think van gogh would've left his muse unfinished?" you teased, adjusting to the familiar stretch of him inside you.

matt pressed you further into the table, sinking deeper as his breath caught in his throat.

"van gogh might not have, but i'm not him. besides… i don't have to finish right away-fuck… i like taking my time."

the curse slipped from him like a low growl, and it sent a shiver through you, your body reacting instinctively, tightening around him as he started to move with slow, deliberate strokes.

he withdrew partially, then pushed back in, his grip on your hip tightening as he set a steady pace, each thrust deep and measured.

you let out a soft, breathless sigh, one hand gripping the edge of the wooden table while the other found its way to his face, your fingers brushing against his jaw as he breathed heavily against your neck. his breath was even, save for the little hitches when you clenched around him, reminding him of just how good you felt.

"mmh… guess i should thank you for not being as busy as picasso… he'd have me waiting… days just… for a sketch," you muttered between breaths, a soft hum escaping as matt placed a series of open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

his lips trailed toward your shoulder, and you felt the corner of his mouth curve into a smirk as he let out a small, amused breath. "nah, you'd be his masterpiece… but trust me, i'm a lot better at finishing what i start."

his words were accompanied by the gentle squeeze of his hand as it slid from yours up your arm to your shoulder, holding you firmly, while the other hand stayed gripping your hip, his hips pressing against you with a steady determination.

matt's pace picked up gradually, each thrust driving deeper, more deliberate, the sound of skin against skin filling the studio as he pulled you closer with every stroke. your fingers gripped the edge of the table harder, your breath coming out in shallow pants as the pressure built inside you. he groaned softly against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin between kisses, the warmth of his breath sending chills down your spine.

"you feel so good," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, rougher now with need. his grip on your hip tightened as his other hand moved to your stomach, pulling you back into him with each thrust, making sure you felt every inch of him. your body responded in kind, arching back into him, seeking more, wanting all of him.

your head fell back slightly, resting against his shoulder as his movements became more insistent.

"matt" you breathed out, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard you. he always did. he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck.

"you like that, don't you?" he asked, his tone teasing, but his hips never faltered, keeping the rhythm steady, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

matt's hands slid from your waist up to your shoulders, pressing you forward, your chest now flush against the table. his grip tightened as he pushed down slightly, creating that delicious tension in your body. your hand, searching for balance, knocked over a few brushes in the process, and they clattered onto the table, landing on a nearby flat surface.

before you could process the mess, matt's thrusts grew more intense, forcing your body to press harder against the table-and more specifically-his painting. wet paint smeared across your shirt, and his canvas, hours of his careful work, was smudged in a frenzy of color and texture.

"matt.." you whispered, your eyes darting to the ruined painting beneath you, but the word was barely audible, drowned by the moan that escaped your lips as his movements deepened. the sensation of being so thoroughly claimed by him overrode everything else, and your voice trembled as you gripped the edge of the table.

he pulled you back against his chest, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips. "that's it… oh fuck, that's it…" he groaned, his voice strained and desperate, as though he was teetering on the edge of losing control. what the fuck?

you furrowed your brow, a brief thought flickering in your mind. "matt… you're coming that fast?" you asked, your voice breathless, genuinely curious how he was so close already when it usually took more time.

he chuckled, though his breath was ragged, his words coming out in a heated rush. "god. no. the painting… it's beautiful… fuck… maybe." his chest heaved as he fought for control, hovering on the verge of completely unraveling.

you turned your head, glancing down at the painting, now a blur of colors and shapes. where your chest and hands had smeared across it, the once-detailed image had become something abstract, chaotic-but somehow… stunning. you couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh, caught between the mess you'd made and the pleasure building in your core.

matt's hands roamed your body again, one sliding down to grip your waist while the other found its way to your lower back, adding more pressure as he thrust deeper into you, your top, completely ruined by the wet paint, clung to your skin, and each motion smeared the vibrant colors further across your chest. his hips collided with yours, the intensity of his pace increasing, matching the heat between you both.

you were practically melting under his touch, but you couldn't stop staring at the canvas beneath you. the accidental smears and handprints somehow made the piece look… alive, raw, like it held a kind of reckless beauty you'd never seen in matt's work before.

he pressed his forehead against the back of your neck, his breath hot and uneven. "fuck… look at what you've done," he whispered, his tone almost reverent, a mixture of awe and desire. "it's like… you were supposed to touch it."

you moaned softly at his words, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you looked at the painting again, the messy beauty of it sinking in.

"maybe i should ruin your work more often…" you teased, but your voice faltered as matt's hand moved from your back to grip your shoulder, pulling you even closer.

he let out a low growl, his hips driving into you with renewed fervor. "don't tempt me," he breathed against your ear, his grip tightening as if he was trying to keep control, though you could feel him unraveling with each thrust.

the rhythm between you quickened, and with every thrust, matt's hands tightened on you, as if he were trying to hold onto this moment forever. the world outside faded away, the only sounds filling the studio were the slapping of skin against skin and the breathy moans escaping your lips. you could feel his heat, his urgency, and it sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, drowning out everything else.

with one final, deep thrust, matt let out a low groan, his body shuddering against yours as he reached his peak. a moment of bliss washed over you both, the culmination of passion and art merging in a way that felt almost transcendent.

-

51,932 likes

youruser soo la voo or whatever

View all 1,308 comments

yourfriendsuser ugh so hot

youruser wth watch the reels i sent u

mattdillon ma belle

youruser mon beau ;)

randomuserone hello???

randomusertwo matt's comment is cute why is everyone pressed omg

-

the next following thursday arrived with a buzz of excitement in the air. the gallery was set for the opening day of matt's exhibition, the walls adorned with his masterpieces, each canvas telling a story. the vibrant colors and intricate details sparkled under the gallery lights, drawing in the crowd eager to experience the world he had created. you stood beside him, your heart swelling with pride as you watched people admire his work, a bittersweet smile playing on your lips as you recalled the chaos that had led to this moment.

your phone buzzed again in your lap, but you barely glanced at it. the car rolled through the streets of paris, the gray buildings towering above, casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun. outside, the city moved at its usual pace-tourists snapping photos, locals rushing by with their coffee cups and baguettes, unaware of the little moment you were in.

after a whirlwind of brand deals and meetings, you finally had a moment to breathe. this was your first time in paris, and you wanted to soak in every bit of it. matt had sent a car for you, of course, because he wouldn't have it any other way. you smiled, remembering the way he insisted on it, as if you couldn't have figured out how to get to the gallery on your own. but that was just how he was-always making sure you had everything, making sure you were taken care of.

the car pulled up in front of ruttkowski;68, the art gallery's sleek facade reflecting the light in a way that made it almost glow. you thanked the driver, stepping out, your heels clicking softly against the pavement.

inside, it was quieter than you expected. a few people mingled around the pieces already on display, talking in low voices as they sipped champagne. but you barely noticed them. your eyes were scanning the room, looking for him.

and then you saw him, standing near one of the larger pieces-one of his, of course. he was mid-conversation with someone, but the moment his eyes met yours, he smiled. it was that quiet, knowing smile that said everything without saying anything at all.

you made your way over to him, weaving through the crowd, your heart picking up speed just a little. when you reached him, he greeted you with a soft kiss on the cheek, his hand resting lightly on your waist.

"you made it," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "of course i did," you replied, looking up at him with a grin. "you flew me out, remember?"

you and matt snickered softly, sharing little inside jokes as he led you around the gallery. he pointed out various pieces, some that you'd seen many times before and others that were new to you. each painting had a story, and you loved hearing him recount them with that passionate spark in his eyes. the way he talked about his work, how he poured his soul into every stroke, made you feel even more connected to him.

as you made your way back toward the front of the gallery, light small talk flowed naturally between you. you asked him about the inspiration for one piece, and he playfully bantered about how it was "just a phase" he was going through. you chuckled, rolling your eyes at his modesty, and he grinned, clearly enjoying the moment.

then, as the evening progressed, the speakers began to introduce him. you stepped back, a few feet away, wine glass in hand, watching as they handed him the microphone. he took a deep breath, and the room fell silent, everyone's attention on him. your heart swelled with pride as he spoke passionately about his exhibition, "rascals and saints." you couldn't help but admire the way he commanded the room, his words weaving a tapestry of emotion that resonated with everyone present.

after the applause faded, you made your way back to him, feeling a warm buzz from the wine. "i loved your speech," you said, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

“it’s the audience that deserves the credit," he replied with a wink. in a swift, discreet motion, he lightly tapped your bum, making you laugh. he leaned in, planting a quick kiss on your temple before holding your hip gently, guiding you toward a small group of people engaged in conversation.

"matt, who is this?" a woman asked, her eyes flicking to you with thinly veiled curiosity.

"this is my girlfriend," matt said, his tone casual, as if it wasn't a big deal at all, even though you could feel the slight tension that followed his words. a few of them exchanged looks, one man even smirking slightly, but matt just gave them one of those take scoffs, like he found it all amusing.

one of the older women spoke up, her french accent steady and posh as she lifted a hand to lightly touch matt's shoulder. "oh, she's lovely, dear. quite lovely indeed… yes," she praised, her eyes drifting as she scanned you from head to toe.

"just a tad bit young, i'm afraid. how old are you, dear?" she questioned, her voice low as her sunken blue eyes traced your face.

pardon my french, but what a nosy bitch, you thought to yourself.

"twenty-five, madame," you responded gracefully, giving the older woman a brief smile.

she looked shocked, appalled almost, covering up with a small laugh and placing a hand on her heart.

"oh, good heavens, she's still a baby," she joked, her tone light, but you could see matt's jaw tighten slightly as he tried to remain polite.

"it's about more than what meets the eye, for me," he said, his tone light, matching hers, but there was a sharpness there that you couldn't ignore.

then another person spoke up, a man who pointed his thumb toward the large painting hanging in the center of the wall. it was a striking piece-dark, grunge-like colors smudged with bright strokes that drew the eye in. you felt a flush of embarrassment remembering how you'd accidentally ruined it.

''the pulse of the city' is spectacular. what's your inspiration behind that?" the man asked.

matt let out a huff of a breath, bowing his head sheepishly as he thanked the guy for the praise.

"thank you, i can tell you in one simple word-chaos. let's go take a look at it, shall we?" he said, walking over to the painting, pointing out certain elements and key points that he described with an enthusiasm that was infectious.

as you stood there, fancy champagne in hand, matt's eyes met yours in the crowd, and ever so slightly, he winked and flashed you a knowing smile.

just like that, the tension shifted to something lighter as the conversation moved on to pieces in the gallery. you could still feel the weight of his words, the way he looked at you. it wasn't just about your age or what people might think. for him, it was more than that. and in that moment, you knew you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

[umberpath]

it's too bloody soon to be fantasizing about writing a prequel novel when we aren't even sure it needs one...

[indecisivemuch]

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 

You deserved better. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

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[spencerreidenjoyer]

love bites | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k, rating: 18+/explicit

tags: established relationship, hickeys, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, overstimulation

a/n: hello again... i'm back with another pwp fic... idk where this came from ngl, but i sort of ran away with this idea of spencer leaving hickeys and this happened lol. also i've been having chip taylor (mgg's character in 68 kill, a guy who has the biggest, wettest eyes and fucks like a madman) on the brain lately so this is definitely inspired by him too ❤️

(p.s: you can also find this fic on ao3!)

Spencer always wants to give you everything you want. He’s eager to please, with those wide puppy-dog eyes that stare up at you, that gaze that makes your insides warm, the tension between you two that makes you want to spread your legs. Not like you would put up a fight anyway.

He was already such a sweetheart on the date you just came home from, a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. Spencer was a proper gentleman, who was playing footsie with you under the table. You’d wanted to jump his bones the moment you’d left the restaurant. You hoped Spencer would get the hint, from the way you were tracing circles with your fingers onto his thighs on the drive back to his place.

“Baby,” you hum, while Spencer kisses down your neck. He always treats you like a princess, makes you feel so revered.

Sometimes, he loses himself in making you feel good. You have to call his name again – “Spencer–!” you say, in a whimper, before he responds.

“Hmm?”

“Are you leaving marks?” You ask. You feel a little conscious about it, because having to wear a turtleneck to work in the summer heat is definitely funny, but kind of embarrassing.

Spencer’s lips pause against your neck. He murmurs, “Do you want me to?” and you feel his warm breath on your skin as he says it. Your hair stands on end, your body reacting to how close Spencer is to you.

Spencer pulls away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth for a moment. He looks at you, the hazel of his eyes so deep and sweet that you feel like you could lose yourself in them. “Then I can leave them in places that you don’t have to worry about.”

“What? Where?” You ask, but your mind starts running already. His lips on your body. His gaze, scorching as he stares up at you.

He doesn’t give a verbal response, rather lets his hands fall to your waist and slips his thumbs under the waist-cutouts of your dress. Where the tips of his fingers touch your skin, you feel like you’re burning with desire already. Spencer asks, “Can I?”

“Please.” Your voice comes out breathier than you’d like.

Spencer pushes your dress up, revealing your thighs, your stomach. His fingers skirt over your skin softly, the touch almost ticklish. The dress goes up, up, up, until Spencer helps you tug it over your head. Even with the sweet gesture, him getting you undressed is making you flush, the attention he gives you and the lust in his gaze making your stomach flip.

Spencer’s lips find their way back to your neck. You hold your breath as he kisses his way down the column of your neck, taking his time. He kisses your collarbone, then the top of your breast. He nips the skin between his teeth.

“Someone’s bitey,” you gasp, trying to joke.

“Did you know that while the Brits call hickeys ‘love bites’ , you don’t actually need to bite to break the superficial blood vessels under the skin’s surface? Suction is often sufficient to cause bruising.” Spencer murmurs, as if the fun fact is absolutely necessary to him giving you a hickey on your breast. It’s cute to you, though. It kind of turns you on.

“‘Love bites’ are a cute name for hickeys, though.” You laugh. “And sucking… Isn’t that kind of gross?”

Spencer’s eyes flit up to meet yours. “I think it’s hot… I mean, being so desperate to mark you up, that I can’t control myself. Being willing to do anything to make it known that you’re mine.”

Arousal washes over you. “Jesus Christ, Spencer.”

He surges forward to kiss you, slow and languid and kind of sloppy. Still, you can feel the desperation behind his movements, his eagerness as he basically eats your face off. Spencer pulls back panting, eyes studying your face, your shirtless figure, your breasts in your bra. He stares greedily. You’re wet between your legs already.

Spencer dips his head down to press his lips to where your breast spills out of the cup of your bra, flicking his tongue over a spot he’s chosen. His front teeth graze over your skin gently. Spencer nips the skin between his teeth, sucking softly. It makes your hair stand on end – the wet sounds coming from his mouth, the heat of his breath on your skin, the slow but pleasurable twinge of pain that sinks in when he sucks a mark into your breast.

It’s erotic, the way your hand is tangled in Spencer’s hair, holding him close to you as he continues to mark up your chest with his mouth. Spencer’s hair is so soft between your fingers, slightly messy and curling at the ends. He’d moved on to mark up your other breast, his large hand cupping you perfectly, like you were made for him.

Spencer litters hickeys all over you, on your tits, your stomach, and he kisses along the waistband of your panties when he gets to them. You only have to whimper to get him to slide them off as well. He kisses your hip bone, while his hand on your other side feels you up. You feel Spencer slide his hand from the swell of your ass, to feeling the meat of your thigh, before his hand comes around and pushes your leg out to spread your legs.

“Babe,” you moan, as Spencer bites down gently on your plushy inner thigh. His tongue laps over where he had bitten, acting to soothe you from any pain, and he sucks a mark into your thigh. You see the marks of his teeth and the redness of the spot, the beginnings of a bruise. He moves over to your other thigh to give you another mark, then his lips trace their way closer to the heat between your legs, giving you more marks on the way up.

You gasp when he presses a kiss to your clit, your wetness extremely obvious to you now as he blows cool air to tease you. You shiver. Spencer laughs, “Needy. You’re so wet.”

“Because of you, baby,” you sigh, running your hand through his hair to push it back, letting you admire his gorgeous bone structure and those wide eyes of his. “Need you.”

Spencer hums, smiling to himself, as he settles himself between your spread legs. His hand comes up to your heat, two fingers spreading your lips before he leans in, licking a fat stripe up across your hole, to your clit. You moan shakily as he flicks at your clit, playing with you, the tip of his sharp tongue making pleasure jolt through your body.

You let out a sigh when he presses his face deeper because you didn’t think he could get any closer, and you feel his mouth on your cunt– slurping, licking, breathing heavily as he eats you out fervently. He gives you head like he was born to do it. The way he pleasures you makes your head spin, amidst all the slick, wet noises, and Spencer’s own eagerness to make you feel good.

You lock eyes with Spencer, his piercing gaze meeting yours from between your tits. It’s almost funny, but you’re too turned on to even joke about it. You tighten your grasp in his hair. He whimpers, a sound you never get tired of hearing, and the vibrations to your cunt make you shiver.

You want him in you, now. You tell him that. Spencer pulls away, his wide eyes seeming dark and serious.

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, shiny with your slick and fluids. You watch the pink of his tongue dart out as he licks his lips. You whimper a little as he gets onto his knees between your spread legs, his nice button-up, slacks and boxers off and on the floor. You admire the smooth lines of his body, the softness of his stomach, his happy trail leading down to where he’s hard and leaking into his hand.

There are no words exchanged, just a knowing glance that tells Spencer to hurry and do it. Spencer’s always been good at following instructions, and he knows you and your likes like the back of his hand. You know he always wants to please.

One hand on your hip, Spencer’s other hand guides his cock to your hole. He teases the head of his cock over your clit, circling over your entrance. You can only imagine how wet and sticky you are down there, with Spencer’s cock making you even more of a mess.

He puts the head in, watches intently as he slides in, and you look up at Spencer, breathing hard. He stops for a moment and begins to pull out, only the tip inside of you. He’s such an ass. You glare at him. Spencer grins cheekily.

“Spencer–” His name leaves your lips brokenly as he suddenly presses himself deeper, in, in, in, until his cock is bottoming out and you feel so incredibly full. “Fuck me.”

Spencer grunts, eyebrows furrowed as he starts fucking into you. He goes hard and fast, knowing that’s how you like it: his skin slapping against yours, the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your hole downright obscene. Even while you shake from the force he’s putting into fucking you, Spencer’s face reads like he’s trying hard to keep it together, trying to concentrate on making you feel as good as he feels.

His mouth falls open as he grips the headboard, fucking you relentlessly. You hold onto his biceps for dear life, close to screaming as he rails you. Spencer moans, as your fingernails dig into his arms in your desperate need, “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight, angel. All wet for me.”

“Spencer, fuck, oh my God–!” You cry out, helpless, horny, feeling like you’re in heaven as Spencer fucks you just how you want, just how you need. His cock hits all the right places, deep inside of you, fucking you open like you’re made for him.

And then, your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body jolting with the pleasure that overtakes you. It’s so good, Spencer ramming into you till the overstimulation starts to sting, pleasure tinged with pain around the edges, and your clenching and writhing has Spencer pushed over the edge as well, his head dropping between his shoulders as he comes with a groan, loud and whiny, his load spilling inside of you.

You’re both breathing hard, but your eyes meet his, and you share a small smile. Spencer has paused, cock softening inside of you, and he kisses you softly. You taste yourself on his lips. You don’t care, and kiss him back. Both of you giggle when you pull away.

One of Spencer’s hands falls from the headboard to your body, his fingers gentle as they skirt over your curves, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you just moments ago. His hand slides over your breast, your stomach, your thighs – thumbing over the marks he’d left behind. Spencer presses down on one on your inner thigh. You moan as he grabs the meat of your thigh eagerly. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“I love you,” you giggle softly, feeling like you got your brains fucked out. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be sweet to you, darling?” Spencer answers softly as he leans in, kissing your jaw gently. Your cheeks feel warm. “I love you too. Let me clean you up.”

You hum softly, laying back while Spencer gets up. You watch as Spencer, even more gorgeous in his post-orgasmic glow, grabs a small towel and slips onto the bathroom. He emerges quickly enough, the towel now damp, and slides back into bed next to you.

Spencer glances down at where you’re wet and messy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, mind clearly busy, and asks, “Wanna let me finger you before we really go and get clean?”

You let out a laugh, and after a moment’s pause: “Yeah, okay."

[astraystayyh]

You're sexy I'm sexy

Jeongin x reader. Friends to lovers. Lots of pining and tension. Innie has a fat crush. Mention of alcohol and drinking!

Inspired by You're sexy I'm sexy by Eric Nam, also by this moodboard by @chachachannah <3

Jeongin is out with his friends, and you. You're tipsy and sitting on his lap, and he doesn't think he can keep his crush for you at bay anymore.

skz song series masterlist.

a.n: 7/8 of the series and a little fun break from all the angst <3 can't believe there is only one fic to go now :")

Jeongin is out with nine of his friends, they are loud and boisterous, their laughter echoing throughout the small bar they're in. Yet, the only thing he can seem to focus on is you. You're giggling at a joke Minho just told, and it feels as if your laugh is molten sunshine, running through his veins and igniting him from within.

You squint your eyes as you take a sip of your drink, your nose scrunching up as the liquor grazes your tastebuds, and Jeongin can't seem to take his eyes off of you. He is enthralled by your every move, and you're not even doing anything.

He's had a crush on you for a while, four months to be exact- 120 days where his every waking moment was spent thinking of you. It happened so abruptly, taking him completely off-guard. He's never felt this way before- a blushing mess, putty in your hands, so pliable for you to mold however you want. 

He shakes his head, tugging slightly at his black bangs. He remembers how you complimented him on his new color, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair. You’re always so nonchalant, in your way of touching him as if you don't leave him burning up in your trail. As if your knee bumping into his doesn't make electricity shoot through his body, as if your arm resting lazily on his shoulder doesn't make the world around him fade away, until all he sees is you.

You stand up to go get another drink, and Jeongin finally feels as if he can breathe again. "You're staring at yn," Hyunjin nudges his side with his elbow, and Jeongin drawls out a whine, hiding his face in his hands, "I know." 

Some time has passed, and Chan has called over some people he knows, so now everyone is squeezed into this tiny brown booth with Jeongin at the end of it. But no one seems to mind the lack of space, everyone is delighted the exam season is finally over.

You come back, a red drink in your hand, and Jeongin can tell it’s you just from the intoxicating smell of your perfume. He's learned to recognize you through those small details- he can even distinguish your soft knocks on his door when you visit his dorm. 

There is no place left for you in the booth, and you pout slightly. Jeongin goes to stand up to leave you his place, but you push him gently back down. 

"Do you mind?" you ask, pointing at his lap and he startles, looking between you and his legs. He stays silent for a while, unsure of how to answer, and you smile slightly.

"Never mind, it's okay," you leave to get a chair but he grabs your hand abruptly, pulling you on top of his lap. 

Jeongin doesn't know what's taking over him, he's never been this bold. But he accounts it on the one sip of alcohol he's taken, this, and the fact you proposed such a thing. He knows you're tipsy because your cheeks are tinted pink and you don't seem to mind where you’re sitting, on his lap. 

Jeongin can't think straight anymore, too overwhelmed by the warmth of your body. You are everywhere, all at once, and he feels a sudden urge to bury his face in your hair and never let go. You move your hair to your right shoulder, and the scent of your shampoo tickles his nose. The curve of your neck is exposed, and he wonders what would happen if he grazed it with his teeth.

Would shivers run down your spin? Would you gasp softly, pupils dilating as if trying your best to take him all in?

You are laughing, again, and the melodic sound pulls Jeongin out of his wandering thoughts. He finds it endearing, how your entire body shakes when you chuckle, as if laughter reverberates through you from head to toe. Was it normal to be so aware of someone's existence? To know them more than you know yourself? 

"Am I bothering you?" you turn to ask him, a soft smile on your face, and he shakes his head. It felt as if his tongue was tied in an impossible knot, he couldn't think, or dare to speak with you so near. 

"You're warm," you point out, placing your cold hands on his heated cheeks. He closes his eyes, leaning into your cooling touch. 

"Here, let me," you smile, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket and shrugging it off of him. He simply watches as you place the discarded jacket on top of your lap, before rolling the sleeves of his white t-shirt a bit upward. Your hand lingers on his forearm, squeezing it lightly, and it feels as if you’ve sealed the skin with your palm. Anyone who gazes at it will be able to tell you touched him.

You lean your back onto his chest, and Jeongin tentatively wraps his arm around your waist. Your hand reaches up to play absentmindedly with his silver rings, and he wonders what you must look like to other people. He wanted them to think that you were a couple, he realizes. Maybe if enough people believed it, it'd become a reality.

The night passes and the place beside Jeongin frees up, but you stay on his lap. His chin is now on your shoulder, your back snug against his chest. He can feel every twitch of your body and every soft exhale you take, and he unconsciously mirrors your actions, as if looking for any way to intertwine your being with his.

He goes to grab a water bottle from the table but you hand it to him, unscrewing the cap in the process. You turn to face him, as he brings the bottle to his mouth, his eyes still fixated on you. A water droplet runs down his throat, and you trace over its path with your finger lightly, which makes his Adam's apple bob up and down furiously.

Your finger doesn't leave his skin- you are tracing over his collarbones now, and he licks his lips nervously. Your touch is barely there, it would be farfetched to even compare it to a feather. But it's you who's touching him, so he feels it, everywhere.

Your hand moves to rest on top of his chest, and he knows you can feel his heart beating widely in there. He thinks the entire room can hear it at this point. A testament of what you do to him, of what you make him feel. Only you.

"Hi there," you smile innocently and Jeongin lets out a dry chuckle, his hooded eyes gazing intensely into yours.

"Hey you," he whispers, grabbing a strand of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. His gaze flickers from your eyes, to your nose and then to your lips. It stays there, too enamored to possibly move somewhere else. You're talking, he knows you are, but he can't seem to hear what you are saying.

He can't blame it on the alcohol because he hasn't even drunk that much. But his mind is foggy with thoughts of you, of what he wants to do with you, if you'd let him.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" you ask, a slight giggle rhythming your words. 

"Do you even know how pretty you are," he says in awe before his eyes slightly widen in shock. Did he just say this out loud?

"Is that why you kept looking at me all night?" you smile, a hint of teasing in your tone, and Jeongin buries his head in your shoulder. "Shut up," he says lowly, embarrassment clear in his voice at being caught. 

"It's okay, you're so pretty too," you smile, pulling his head away so you'd be able to look at him again. 

His eyes find your lips instantly, like two magnets that can't help but be drawn to one another- fated to be together, no matter how much they try to stay apart.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks breathlessly, raw hope dripping from his tone. "We don't have to be something more I just-" 

You cut him off with your mouth crashing on his, desperately, and he gasps onto you as if you're the oxygen with which he breathes. You taste sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he's getting drunk from the way your mouths move against one another. He wraps his arm around your waist, thumb brushing your sides gently in an effort to bring you impossibly close. Your hands finds his hair, tugging slightly at the ends of it, and it's as if you wanted this too all along. As if Jeongin wasn't alone in his longing for you.

Your lips are soft, immensely so, and he doesn't think he can go back to not kissing you. To preserving you in his mind as a fond memory, not when he knows what it feels like to have his mouth on yours.

"I want to be somebody to you," he says between kisses, desperation lacing his words. He doesn't care how needy he sounds. He's been waiting for four months. If there is a slight chance you like him back, he'd take it and water it enough until it blooms into something much more.

"You already are," you smile into the kiss, your teeth clashing against his which makes you both giggle. "You'll kiss me again when we are sober, right?"

"I'll kiss you for the rest of my life if you'd let me," he brushes his nose against yours gently, and you smile softly at him, wiping the remains of your red lipstick from the corner of his mouth. He places a tender kiss on your wrist, before pressing his swollen lips onto yours again.

[effetsecndaires]

tw: inexperienced & irresponsible choso, unprotected sex

✧˚ · . 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is apologizing profusely while you repeatedly tell him to pull out, the two of you panting and moaning into each other’s mouth. He has your hips in a bruising hold so you can’t squirm away, your own hands digging into his shoulders leaving tiny red indents behind.

He feels himself getting close to release and he knows you told him to finish on your stomach, but he can't pull out.

Your pussy feels good, so good, it drives him insane. His entire body is on autopilot, tears prickling at his waterline and lips repeatedly chanting "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i love you" as he keeps going, rutting his hips up in desperation, his strong arms locking around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest.

“C-Choso, baby, s-slow down plea- fuck please,” you stutter out, one hand moving from his back to thread into the hair atop his head and tug — your lips crashing together in a messy, uncoordinated kiss, your lips constantly parting for gasps of air and moans.

He hopes you can forgive him. He hopes you won't be mad at him. Your sweet broken cries of pleasure are driving him crazy and the thought of pulling out when he's so close to the edge is inconceivable to him. He feels so good and he knows he's being selfish, but he just can't pull out…

And truth be told, those breathy moans and desperate whiny sounds he makes are so fucking hot you can't even be mad at him.

He needs to fill you up and you let him, your eyes rolling back in your head as his hips finally come to a stop, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as he comes; warm, thick cum pumping into you in long seemingly never ending spurts.

You know there'll be consequences to that, but you'll deal with them later. Plan B exists for a reason, after all.

note: this is the best I can do right now. :( i'm really sorry for the lack of content. I've never felt so drained of inspiration as I do right now. I have 20-ish wips that I struggle to finish because of this writers block.

[navybrat817]

Puppy Dog Eyes

Pairing: William Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Will feels betrayed by someone he thought was his ally.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, talk of threats and interrogation, slight feels (it's me, okay?), William Miller (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by this post @ghotifishreads tagged me in. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Will counted the seconds in his mind as he stared his adversary down. Someone he should've considered an ally. Maybe even a friend. But now? He didn't recognize the beast in front of him.

He was used to people playing dirty behind enemy lines, but this? Betrayal in familiar territory? The sting was like a bullet to the gut.

“Before you test my resolve, I want you to know that I have forty three confirmed kills.”

A huff was the only reply he got.

Crouching down so he was at eye level, he huffed, too. His enemy was much smaller in size, but looks could be deceiving. “Now, I’m not going to hurt you. It wouldn't do either of us any good,” he said, tapping a finger against his thigh. “I just want to know why.”

He didn't get an answer. Only a defiant stare. The silent treatment. That was fine. Nothing he hadn't faced before. He had ways to make enemies talk if it came to that. And the puppy dog eyes wouldn't garner sympathy from him.

Battle had hardened him too much for that.

Shut down. Control. Manipulate. That’s what he did with his human instincts until he completed his mission.

Will continued the staring contest until the smaller one whined. It wasn't an answer, but it was a start. “You made this personal, you know. And I’ll throw you out in the rain if you push your luck,” he threatened, tilting his head to maintain eye contact. “No. You don't get to look away. Not after what you did. After I took you into my home.”

And how did he repay him?

“Honey?”

Your voice pulled Will’s attention away from the task at hand. “Yeah, baby?”

You leaned against the doorway, a smile tugging at your kissable lips. “Are you interrogating Bandit?”

Bandit, the puppy Benny got weeks ago. The puppy you offered to watch since his brother was going out of town for a few days and he didn't want to board him. The same little rascal who chewed up a pair of tennis shoes. New tennis shoes.

And hadn't touched a single one of his chew toys.

Will nodded to his ruined shoes. “You saw what he did.”

“I did and I'm sorry,” you said, though you had no reason to apologize. It wasn't like you chewed them up. “He’s a puppy and they’re going to do those kinds of things from time to time. Is it really worthy of an interrogation?”

“Yes, it is.” Bandit swung his head toward you and whimpered. “No, don’t you-”

“Aww. Is the former Captain bothering you?” You walked over and scooped him into your arms. The light golden puppy snuggled close, but looked at Will like he was taunting him. You had a soft spot for dogs and Bandit sensed that. Used it to his advantage.

“Taking his side?”

“I’m always on your side, Will,” you said, softening his resolve. “Now, Bandit, you know you aren't supposed to do that. Play with your toys, not shoes. Okay?”

Bandit barked. He actually barked for you. How did you do that?

“And apologize to Will,” you urged.

He barked again.

“Good boy,” you smiled as Will stood up and crossed his arms. “And don't worry, we won't throw you out in the rain.”

“I still might just to teach him a lesson,” Will half teased. “Or I can just put him in his cage.”

Bandit whined and hid his face. “Don’t you dare. He’s a puppy, not a soldier. And you were happy with watching him until now. Besides, he said he was sorry,” you said, giving Will your own set of puppy dog eyes.

You had a point. Bandit was a pretty well-behaved puppy, all things considered. He didn't bite. Didn't make a mess when he ate. Went to the door when he had to go outside. And he seemed content to sleep in his dog bed and didn't demand to sleep with the two of you.

“Fine. No cage,” he relented.

“Thank you. And I’m sure Benny will buy you a new pair of shoes once he gets back,” you added.

“Maybe,” he said. He wouldn't hold his breath to get new shoes or money for the damage done. He may be Benny’s big brother, but Benny adored his puppy and would likely blame him for leaving them out in the first place. He had a routine though. He put his shoes in the same spot after he exercised.

To be fair, he should've been more careful. He would be in the future. If anything, he could try to see the positive side of things and use this as a learning experience. That's what you tried to do when you ran into unfortunate situations.

“Is it a bad time to suggest we get our own puppy?” You asked, smiling as you lifted Bandit up higher and put his cheek against yours. “Chewed up shoes and a scratched up couch aside, it might be nice.”

Dogs did make for great companions. He’d be lying if he said he hadn't pictured the two of you having a kid and a dog for them to grow up with. Someone who would be a friend to and watch over his child.

“What do you think?” You smiled when he stayed quiet for too long.

He softly smiled. Most people couldn't sway him to do anything, but you had a way about you. Maybe it was because he loved you. “I’ll think about it.”

You put Bandit down before you leaned in and brushed your lips against Will’s. “Thank you.”

He went in for another kiss, but stopped when the words fully registered. “Wait.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you say scratched up couch?”

“...Did I say that? I don't recall.”

“I remember everything you’ve ever said to me,” he told you.

You put a hand over your heart. “That is so romantic.”

“And you said ‘chewed up shoes and a scratched up couch aside, it might be nice’, so what exactly did he do to our couch?”

Your eyes widened as you took a step back. “Run, Bandit!”

And he did.

I couldn't help myself. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mangostarjam]

declarations — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, reader wears a dress and heels, 2.6k words

here's part one and part two though this piece was inspired by this

"Why do I need to wear a dress?"

Hoshina Soshiro glances up from where he's lounging on your bed. You've already pulled on the dress, of course, and he watches with probably way too much interest as you tug and adjust the way it drapes along your body. It's pretty. It fits perfectly, though you have no idea when Soshiro learned your measurements enough to show up at your door with such a gorgeous dress hanging from his fingers. Maybe he got them from Okonogi-chan?

"You'll be walking 'round with me and the Captain, egg tart, so you've gotta look the part," he says idly, though you can feel the burn of his stare along the newly exposed skin of your back. "And don't forget the heels!"

You glance at the cute, strappy heels he left by your mirror and frown. "If I wear those, I'll be taller than you, Soshiro-kun."

"Aw, that doesn't matter," Soshiro says. He sits up and you look away from the flex of his incredibly defined abdominal muscles beneath his compression shirt, which he apparently wears all the time, even under his formal dress uniform with all its tassels and buttons.

God. Embarrassing. You really need to get your staring issue under control.

"I can fight whoever looks at ya."

"Wha— ?" Heat sears across your face as you splutter and spin around to face him. The skirt of your dress twirls with the movement and you catch his gaze snapping down to your thighs. "Why would you need to fight anyone?"

"Hm?" You take a step back as he gets up and stalks over to you, holding your breath subconsciously as he kneels at your feet and takes one of the heels in hand. Your room suddenly feels warmer, the air hushed, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in the entire universe. Soshiro chuckles quietly and shoots you a grin that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"Soshiro-kun?"

"Well, 'course I'm gonna fight for ya, apricot," Soshiro says. You flinch as he reaches out to grip your calf, the rough callouses on his fingers scraping lightly as he lifts your leg and slides your foot into the shoe. "You're my best friend, yeah?"

And I'm just a simple man in love goes unspoken as he carefully ties the silk around your ankle to keep the shoe in place. You wobble a bit at the balance and he glances up from beneath his violet bangs. "Hold onto my shoulders," he says quietly, reaching for your other leg. "Don't worry, I've got you."

"S-Soshiro-kun, I can put these on myself," you mumble, heat flaring up your spine at the careful pressure of his fingers on your ankle. He lifts your leg and you grab abruptly at his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick muscle there as you regain your footing with his support.

Soshiro lets out a breath. "I know," he says simply. "But I wanna do it."

Is this what men do when they're in love? You wouldn't know — the only man in your life you've ever cared about is right in front of you, and he's refused to elaborate on his strange statement no matter how many times you've asked. You have a feeling he means it, though.

Like, really means it. You love Soshiro — of course you do. You've always loved him. But lately it's felt… different.

Still comfortable. He's still your biggest supporter and vice versa, and he still knows exactly how to cheer you up and make you laugh. You know all his ticks and tells, and you take great pride in taking care of him while he's looking out for everyone else.

But at the same time… it's uncomfortable.

These little touches — they're new. The way his gaze lingers on your body is also new. Or… maybe you've just never noticed before. It's not a bad thing. But it makes you feel strange and fluttery inside and you catch yourself daydreaming about what it'd be like to actually get a hickey from Soshiro. Your best friend.

You stare down at the top of his head and try to repress a shiver as he skims up your legs to where your skirt rests against your thighs. His touch leaves behind a trail of warmth that burrows deep. "Um— ?"

"Ya look real pretty like this," he says. You're still holding onto his shoulders as he rises from his crouch, your entire body hot and hyperaware of how close he's standing once he straightens. "I could really just eat ya up." The smirk on his face makes your heart thump painfully in your chest, but he doesn't give you a chance to question it before he's grabbing your hands and spinning you around in a little twirl.

"S-Soshiro!"

Your best friend laughs as you wobble precariously before regaining your balance, your hands gripping his in a vice as you stumble to a stop. The familiar sound makes everything feel lighter, the heat simmering into something loose and… painful. Your chest aches. "Whoa, lollipop, watch your step!"

"You did that on purpose," you accuse, but you giggle anyway at his lopsided grin. It's bright and undeniably fond, a smile that features in all of your memories together. "You still haven't explained why you'd need to fight people, y'know."

"Let's just say I've got my work cut out for me with such a gorgeous partner," Soshiro says, looping your arm through his and angling for the door. Is he… trying to sweet talk you? Does he think that'll make you forget about his intention to brawl during the meal? "Ya ready for dinner, beansprout?"

"Hold on, don't forget your jacket," you say. He lets you step away to snatch up his formal dress jacket, though his hand hovers, stretching out towards you as you turn back to help him into it. You slip his buttons into place carefully, smoothing out the dense fabric and ignoring your warm face as he rests his hands on your hips to keep you steady. "There! Now we can go to dinner, Vice Captain, sir."

Soshiro's hands tighten at your waist. "Whoa, peanut, we ain't in public, yet."

You roll your eyes. He's been oddly insistent lately about when you use his rightful title. "C'mon, Soshiro-kun, before they start and we miss all the food!"

Your best friend loops your arm through his again and leads you out into the hallway, laughing when you try to pull your arm free only to fail as he tugs you more securely towards him. "Hey now, sugar cube, no runnin' away. We've gotta show up together or else people'll think they've got a chance."

You wrinkle your nose. "A chance at what?"

"They're already lucky bein' able to see you all dressed up," Soshiro continues as if he didn't hear you. "Maybe we should ditch the party."

"You're literally the Vice Captain of this base," you point out. "I think your absence would be noticed."

"What if we sneak out after dessert?"

"Why would we sneak out?"

Soshiro glances at you and pauses in front of the door leading into the ballroom. "Just 'cause I'm Vice Captain doesn't mean I'll forget to rescue you from all the socializin'."

"My hero," you joke, but several hours later finds you scanning the crowd uneasily for a head of violet hair.

The party is full of officers (easily distinguishable in their dress uniforms) and esteemed guests from various kaiju tech companies eager to promote their new products. You stuck to Soshiro's side for the most part, his hand firm and bracing at your lower back, but duty called and you ended up in a conversation with a tech mogul's son while Soshiro attended to his captain.

"Sorry, I know I'm not as good looking as the Vice Captain, but am I really boring you that badly?" the tech mogul — Takashi? Tadashi? — asks. You blink in surprise and return your attention to him, shifting on your heels.

"I apologize," you say, "it's just been a while…"

"It's been ten minutes," Takashi/Tadashi snorts. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have the two of you been together?"

Again? Why does everyone ask that? "We've known each other since childhood," you say. The man raises an eyebrow.

"Are you not… together, then?"

Something about his tone makes you bristle. "We've always been together," you say. You feel Soshiro before you see him, his hand resting warm on your lower back, just at the dip of your spine where it curves at your butt. This is a new spot for him to touch, a little lower than usual, but you lean into him anyway, seeking the comfort of your best friend. "Right, Vice Captain?"

"Who's askin'?" You startle a little at the subtle chill in his tone. Soshiro tucks you against his side with a hum as Tadashi introduces himself. "Nice to meet you, too," Soshiro grins. "Thanks for keepin' my cinnamon roll company."

Maybe it's your imagination, but did you hear a slight emphasis on "my"? And what's with dropping a nickname in public? Usually he's careful about referring to you by your surname when around strangers. The Third Division knows the two of you are close, but the ballroom is packed with people who have no idea about your relationship with the Vice Captain.

Tadashi doesn't seem concerned, but he does take a small step back. "Why of course, Vice Captain Hoshina," he says, "It was my privilege to be in the presence of such beauty."

You can feel Soshiro's arm tense as he slides it around your waist, but his tone is light. "Whoops, sorry, Takashi-san, duty calls. We'll be taking our leave now."

The crowd of pleasantly chattering officers and bigwigs parts easily as Soshiro guides you through towards the large banquet table full of small bites and snacks. You raise an eyebrow. "Wasn't his name Tadashi?"

"My bad," Soshiro says. You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. "It's fine, my lil' blueberry. His father's the one in charge of their company and Captain Ashiro already made a good impression on him."

It doesn't surprise you that he already knows all of this — for all his joking, Soshiro's always been good at his job. What is surprising is that he was a little mean to the guy for no reason.

"Well, thanks for rescuing me," you say. "I was trying really hard not to yawn in his face."

Soshiro laughs and flicks your forehead fondly. "You ready to sneak outta this party, cupcake?"

"You won't get in trouble?" you ask, looking around doubtfully at the crowd. A few officers meet your eye and turn away quickly, which is weird. You reach up to rub at your forehead. "What about Captain Ashiro?"

"If we stay any longer, I'm gonna end up fightin' those guys from the Second Division," Soshiro says lightly, tilting his head towards the officers who just turned away from you. "They've been starin' at ya all night."

"No fighting," you say immediately. Soshiro snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. Your eyes skip over the way his shoulders bunch at the movement and you meet the eye of a female officer standing at the other end of the banquet table. Her face lights up and she moves towards the two of you, snagging two flutes of champagne along the way.

"Vice Captain Hoshina!" she says brightly, offering him the delicate glass. "I've been looking for you all night! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You shift away, feeling suddenly like you're intruding on something private. Thankfully, the banquet table is a good distraction, and you move closer to it, wondering if you can find the dessert section while Soshiro catches up with this lady who's apparently an old friend. She must be from the Second Division. Maybe Soshiro met her when he visited their base to demonstrate and instruct on sword techniques?

You glance at her again. She's pretty, wearing the formal dress uniform of a female officer, though it looks like her long stockings aren't quite long enough, because the visible skin between her stockings and the bottom of her skirt is definitely against uniform regulations. She looks comfortable standing next to Soshiro, though, and the sight makes your insides twist strangely.

He's never mentioned her to you before. You remember greeting him after his visit to their base, accepting the snacks he brought back and tossing him your finished book filled with scribbled notes so he could take his turn reading it. Is he close with her? He must be, for her to look for him all night… right? It's not like you expect to know everything about Soshiro — of course he has his secrets and his own life.

And what if… what if he… and she… what if they were… together? You've never broached the topic of your love lives with each other, though it's never seemed to matter. You had your fair share of meaningless crushes during your time as an officer, but it was hard to care about pursuing anything romantic when you always had Soshiro.

Oh. Oh.

You are… an idiot. You feel so, so stupid. But Soshiro said he's a simple man in love — with you.

You're staring blindly at a platter of tiny cheesecakes when you feel someone approach, interrupting your train of thought. You glance up with a polite smile as one of the officers from the Second Division steps closer. "Those look delicious, don't they?"

"They do," you say. The officer looks nice enough — boyishly charming, in a way — but you find yourself glancing past him to scan the crowd for a head of violet hair.

Are you in love with Soshiro? Yes — of course you are — and maybe the semantics and nitty gritty details don't actually matter when you just feel right with him.

"Heya, pudding cup." Soshiro's touch burns along your lower back. "Time to head out?"

You twist towards him with a smile that makes his eyes widen. "I missed you."

Pink creeps up his neck as he grins back at you. "Yeah? Excuse me, officer, but I'll be takin' it from here."

The Second Division officer nods and mumbles some formalities as you leave with Soshiro, who doesn't take his hand off your back. The steady pressure of his fingers makes something curl in your gut. "What about the other Second Division officer? The one who brought you champagne?"

"Hm? Who?"

"Soshiro-kun…"

"She's just a friend," Soshiro says, snickering when you scrunch your nose at him. "Don't worry, bonbon, I've only got eyes for you."

The chatter and shuffling of the crowd fades as the two of you exit the ballroom and slip down a side hallway in the direction of your rooms. Soshiro drops his hand from your back, but you grab it before he can get too far, lacing your fingers together and peeking at the redness of his ears with a small smile. You turn together down another hallway, this one illuminated by squares of moonlight that do nothing to hide the clench of his jaw as he glances at you and squeezes your hand.

"Aren'tcha proud of me? No fighting."

You snort. "Thanks for not starting a brawl during a Defense Force party," you tease. "You're the best Vice Captain we could ever ask for."

"I'm not messin' around," he says. "I can't help it if I just wanna keep ya to myself."

"You don't have to worry about that," you say. You wonder if he can feel your pulse pounding in your wrist. "I'm all yours."

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[leilakisakabiri]

Jealousy, Jealousy (Gavi)

Summary: You realize that Gavi never gets jealous when other guys are around you and it makes you question if he still likes you. 

Warning(s): None

A/N: Hey! I had some inspiration to write so here I am! I’m trying to release shorter fics while I work on my longer ones. Requests are open!

Word Count: 2.5k+

Masterlist

The first time it happened, you felt relieved that Gavi had decided not to make a scene and instead chose to calmly defuse the situation.

The two of you had been at a club late one night, the high from Barcelona winning hours before pumping through your veins. He had his arms wrapped around you as you both danced to whatever Spanish song the DJ was mixing.

You laughed as he spun you around before pulling you closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he moved a strand of hair out of your face. 

"I'm going to grab another drink. Want to come?"

His breath was hot against your ear, and even though it felt like a million degrees in the club, and you were sweating through your dress, you still shivered, his voice sending shockwaves through your system no matter how many times you heard it.

You looked up, locking eyes, "I'm good, I'll save our spot."

He kissed the top of your head before letting go, "Ok I'll be back in a second. Try and find the others if you can."

You gave him an awkward thumbs up as he walked away and he chuckled before disappearing into the crowd.

The two of you had been dating for just shy of three weeks.

You had been friends for months before dating, with you initially being introduced to him through his hometown friends. Then there was a three-month period where you both liked each other but were too scared to admit it and ruin the friendship. Finally, Gavi caved after spending two weeks away from you without contact while he playing in the U.S.

Since he admitted his feelings for you that night on the steps of your shitty college house, he had jumped straight into the relationship, inviting you to his games, to hang out with his friends, and private dinners. You on the other hand still felt like an awkward pre-teen girl every time you were with him, he just made you feel giddy inside, and you reacted to things he said so intensely that the only way to cover it up was with strange humor and stupid jokes.

That led you to now. Sometimes being around him was so overwhelming because you were always scared you would say something to embarrass yourself, and although he never made you feel any less worthy you couldn't help but feel like he could be with someone much better than you.

As you stood there contemplating, you felt a body collide with yours, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts.

You stumbled, feeling hands come up to grip your elbows, stabilizing you.

"Shit- my bad."

You looked up seeing the guy holding you sporting a white button-down and an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, those guys just pushed me. Some friends." He said referring to the group of five or so extremely drunk boys behind you.

You shook your head, "No worries, I wasn't paying attention either."

He smiled, leaning a bit closer, hands still on your elbows, "Hey do I know you? You look really familiar.”

You squinted your eyes as you gazed at him, trying to figure out if you knew him.

"Eh I go to Universitat de Barcelona if that helps."

His eyes lit up at your words, and he nodded, "Yeah, that's totally how I know you. I think you're in my biology class."

You groaned, "No way the one at 8 a.m.?", he nodded, "I'm barely awake for that lecture." you muttered.

"Mean either but it's hard not to notice you."

You only heard half his sentence and looked at him confused, "Sorry what?"

His lips tugged up in a smile as he bent down, shifting closer to you, "I said it's hard not to notice you."

You felt your breath stop as you realized what you had gotten yourself into. You made a move to shy away when you heard Gavi call your name.

You lifted your head seeing him approaching as he carried your drink, "Hey who's this?"

You went to interject and tell him it was no one but the guy next to you interrupted, "Hey man, I got to school with her.”

Gavi nodded, accepting his answer as he handed you your drink, "Oh class friend?"

You went to speak but were again cut off by the guy next to you, who had still to let go of your elbow.

"Something like that."

You saw Gavi's posture slightly straighten at his words but he relaxed a second later, "Alright."

The guy turned to you saying something about seeing you in class and then proceeded to give you a hug, his arms wrapping around your lower back.

You noticed Gavi watching the exchange but he made no comment.

You approached him timidly, unsure of if he was going to say anything about the situation, but he paid it no mind, going back to casual conversation with you.

At the time you let out a breath, thankful that he seemed intent on letting you handle your own situation.

That thankfulness soon turned to annoyance and then confusion when similar situations happened time and time again and he made no effort to speak up.

You supposed it was good he never got jealous because you knew it could get very overbearing very fast, and yet, you couldn't help the twinge of defeat you felt every time someone tried to make a move on you and he did nothing to stop them or even show a ounce of emotion.

Slowly it was making you start to question your relationship with Gavi.

Why did he not get jealous? Was it because he didn't see others as a threat? Or didn't feel the need to because you weren't as pretty as the other girls he was seen with? Maybe he simply didn't care? Or perhaps he wasn't the type?

You knew the last one couldn't possibly be true because he was absolutely the type. His entire career was based on his passion, determination, and aggression to get where he wanted. His aggression is what made him so competitive and a loyal player. So if he was so driven and passionate on the field, why was that not carrying over into your relationship?

It wasn't until almost two months later that things came to a boiling point.

It was the last game of the pre-season for Barcelona and spirits were high, everyone hoping they could seal off a great season, and enter a new one, with a win.

The stadium was filled to the brim with fans and reporters. The family section was also full with player's partners and families coming to support them in the final game of the summer.

You were sitting next to Anna, the two of you talking about school, work, and life.

Eventually, the game started and you went into full-on fan mode - cheering along when Barca made impressive plays and booing when they were tackled.

The stadium was abuzz with energy, and you basked in everyone's excitement.

You gripped Anna's hand as you saw Gavi running up the sidelines towards the other team's defense, Joao running parallel to him.

You saw him sidestep, dodging the defender, and suddenly the ball was soaring, perfectly landing at Joao's feet as he placed it into the back of the net.

The two of you jumped up, cheering along with the rest of the crowd. It seemed like Barcelona would have its victory after all.

After the game, you stayed in the family section for a while chatting with Pedri's parents as you waited for the players to make a re-emerge.

You bid goodbye to them when you got a text from Gavi telling you to come down.

You made your way down to the field, waiting behind the barricades for him to appear.

The other team's players appeared first, signing fans t-shirts and taking photos.

"Need something signed?"

You saw a player from the other team approach you, waving a sharpie in his hand.

You pointed at your jersey playfully, "No thanks. I'm a Barca girl if you couldn't tell."

He grinned, "Ahh c'mon what will it take for me to convince you?"

You shrugged your shoulders, "Ride or die sorry."

He clutched his hand to his heart in mock offense, "Ouch. I'm hurt, but I'm not giving up."

You gave him a smile, remaining polite, as you looked over his shoulder for Gavi.

"Oh I know!" he exclaimed, directing your attention back to him.

He wiggled his eyebrows before taking off his shirt, "Here, new jersey for you."

He held it out to you, and you gave him an unimpressed look.

He rolled his eyes playfully, "Alright fine. I'll sign it, but only cause you asked so nicely."

You watched amused as he signed the jersey before offering it to you.

You squinted your eyes at him.

He dangled the jersey in his hands, "C'mon take it. You know a lot of people would pay good money for this."

You reached out to grab it, "Fine, but only because I'm going to sell it later."

He held up his hands in surrender, "It's yours now. Do whatever."

You thought the conversation would end there but he made no effort to leave, "Who are you here with anyway? Someone in Barca?"

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off.

"Me."

You whipped your head to see that Gavi had silently approached the two of you.

Besides yourself, you felt a tiny part of you waiting with bated breath for him to do something, to finally dig his boots in the ground and say something, but he remained impassive.

"Hey."

"Hey, you ready to go?" Gavi asked.

You nodded your head, unsure of how to leave the situation.

"I can lift you over the barricade if you need." The other player spoke up, and your eyes immediately flitted over to Gavi's to gauge his reaction.

His eyebrows furrowed but he didn't say anything.

You debated for a second, just to get Gavi to react, but quickly decided against it, opting to just walk around the barricade.

You approached the two of them quickly and with a hasty goodbye followed Gavi as he left the pitch. You heard the other player shout a 'see you around', and you waved in response.

You broke the silence first as you walked the empty tunnel, "Great game baby. You did amazing."

"Thanks."

His reply was clipped.

He went to hold your hand and you shifted the jersey last second to your other hand, catching his attention.

"What's that?"

"Oh, that guy gave me his jersey. I'm going to sell it." You explained, telling him how you were expecting to make hundreds.

He listened along till you finished.

"Can I see the jersey?"

You nodded handing it to him.

You swung your joint hands as you walked, talking to him about the game as he examined the jersey.

Abruptly he dropped your hand, mouth set in a firm line.

Your eyebrows stitched together, "What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat before handing you the jersey.

"I think there's something for you on it."

"I forgot something in the locker room, I'll be right back." He continued.

You looked down confused, eyes scanning the text before it clicked.

The jersey had the player's phone number on it.

You lifted your head seeing him already walking away, "Gavi wait. Can you stop for a minute?"

He turned around but continued moving, "Yeah what?"

"Stop moving!” You exclaimed, your frustration building as he continued to not express any interest in the situation.

He finally halted and you closed the distance between the two of you.

"Is there something wrong with me? Do you not like me anymore or something?"

He seemed taken aback by your words and several emotions flitted across his face, "What are you talking about?"

You took a breath, it was now or never.

"I'm not trying to sound conceited, but I'm pretty sure that guy was hitting on me-"

"He was." Gavi confirmed.

You continued, "So then why don't you care? I'm your girlfriend, so why aren't you getting jealous when other guys hit on me?"

"You want me to get jealous?" He asked incredulously.

"I mean I don't want you to become super overprotective or anything, but it would be nice if you at least acknowledged when someone is trying to get with me right in front of you. I know I would get jealous if someone was saying that to you."

"You don't think I get jealous?" His voice had a hard edge to it, and suddenly you felt like you might have read between the lines wrong.

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure, "I mean you don't show it."

"Of course I'm going to notice when some guy is eye fucking my girl one foot away from me, I'm not fucking blind."

"Then why don't you say anything?" You pressed.

“Shit y/n that's cause I don't want to scare you away!"

His admission only confused you further, and you lowered your voice acutely aware that your shouts were probably carrying far in the quiet tunnel,

"Scare me away? Why would that scare me?"

He shook his head, "The press is always making me out to be this bad guy. This kid that doesn't know how to get his temper in check and - mierda y/n - I don't want to get into this right now."

You relented, unwilling to give in, biting the bullet, "Alright so next time someone asks to lift me up, their just being friendly right? Trying to be helpful?"

His eyes blazed, "That's not what I meant and you know it."

You lifted your hands in frustration, "No Gavi actually I don't know that. You act like you don't even care."

"I care! Trust me y/n I care!" He argued.

"Then show me."

His lips were on yours before you had even finished processing what you were saying. His skin felt hot against yours as his fingers sank into your hipbone, crowding you against the wall.

You lost your train of thought as you got lost in the sensation he provided you. One hand went to tangle in his hair, as the other draped around his neck bringing him impossibly closer.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, as he kissed you senseless. You finally pulled away for a breath but he didn't stop, moving to lay a trail of kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear, down your neck, and onto your collarbone.

You left out a soft moan underneath him, the feeling causing tingles in your spine, and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"We should really sto- fuck gavi - so-someone could walk in any moment." You reminded him.

"Just gotta leave a mark." He replied.

You nodded before his words caught up to you and you pushed him off, "What? No marks! I have to meet your parents tonight." You whined.

He grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic, "At least people will know you're mine now."

[hgfictionwriter]

Teasing

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's not a particularly jealous person, but when it comes to you, well, things are different. You and Jessie are missing each other while Jessie's out with the team and you're at an event.

A/N / Warning: Inspiration finally struck again. The usual warnings still apply - smut, language, etc.. Hope you all enjoy! Oh, and I defaulted back to Jessie being with Chelsea. I'll switch over eventually!

gif credit to @glimmerofawesome

"How's your night going, beautiful?" Jessie blocked out the din of the bar she and the team were in as she sent you a text.

"It's fine. Missing you, wish you were here. How's your night?"

"It's okay. Pretty boring, but I've still gotta stay for a while longer. You know, fulfill my social duty and all."

"Too bad. I'm heading out soon. I hate these networking events. I've dealt with enough drunk flirting for one night."

Jessie sat up a bit in her seat, eyes narrowing at her phone. "Sorry, what?" She typed out.

"You know. Smarmy partners from out of town getting a bit too confident after a few drinks. I'm okay - please don't worry, but yeah, promises of dancing and a good time despite me explicitly saying I have a girlfriend. A gorgeous and wonderful one, at that."

Jessie's chest tightened and burned as she read the message. You were beautiful and charming, so it was really no surprised that someone would hit on you. Still, she didn't have to like it.

"Well, I'm glad you're leaving. I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Hopefully it hasn't been too bad."

"As if you're a stranger to being flirt with lol. I've seen the way the girls look at you ;) I mean, I should know, I'm one of them. But no, it's all good. Like I said, just makes me miss you."

"Well, text me when you're home so I know you made it safe. And get away from all those lecherous girls (and guys?). I don't like hearing about them looking at my girl ;)"

"I know, baby. Believe me, when their eyes were raking over me, all I thought about was you and the way you look at me when you're on top of me."

Jessie's eyes widened momentarily as her head snapped up to look around, suddenly very aware of everyone around her. Thankfully, everyone seemed mostly preoccupied. Before she could think beyond the visual of pinning you to the bed beneath her, her phone buzzed again.

"They don't know how good you fuck me. They don't know how good you make me feel."

"Fuck," Jessie whispered before she could stop herself. The feeling that went through her was instantaneous. She fidgeted in her seat, eyes darting around self-consciously before tapping out a reply.

"Jesus christ, baby girl." Send. "What are you trying to do to me?" She exhaled shakily and tried to ignore the heat she felt rising to her cheeks.

"What do you mean?"

She smirked. You knew damn well what you were doing.

"Babe."

"I mean, I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay out longer. Go dancing."

Jessie's grip tightened subconsciously on her phone as her eyes bore into the characters on the screen.

"Well then I'm coming there." Jessie rapidly typed out her reply, holding back the desire to write "Not without me, you're not." Jessie didn't consider herself a controlling person, she trusted you and you were both secure in your relationship together, but well, you just had a way of working her up. The thought of someone else wanting you, touching you, having you - she knew it was all harmless, but it drove her crazy nonetheless.

"Yeah? And what?"

Jessie looked around again before responding.

"And I'll make sure the only person who's grinding on you is me."

"Mm, baby. I love when you get like this."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Jessie's mouth.

"Your hips against mine. I'll move your hair to the side and kiss down your neck, my hand on your back and pulling you close to me." Jessie bit her lip briefly. "And if you're good, I'll lead you by the hand to the bathroom and fuck you. Your cum pooling in my hand as you tighten around me."

"Oh my fucking God, Jess. You're so hot. You've nearly got me touching myself in the back of this cab. I can picture you next to me, your hand moving up my thigh. I'd give anything to have your fingers inside of me."

Jessie exhaled again, looking around the room as she steeled herself. She checked the time on her phone.

"Baby, please. I need you so bad already. I want you on top of me."

Jessie's eyes scanned the text before she locked her screen again. This was getting out of hand. It buzzed once more.

"Show me I'm yours. I wanna scream your name."

"Hey, you okay?"

Jessie startled, nearly jumping out of her seat as her head snapped up to see Niamh looking at her with concern.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah," she nodded, doing her damnedest to seem nonchalant. She grimaced a bit. "I'm just not feeling that good. My head's pounding." She really should try to stay longer...but fuck it. "I think I'm gonna go."

"Oh okay, well, feel better. I'll see you at practice tomorrow?" Niamh asked as she gave Jessie's shoulder a squeeze.

"Yeah, for sure. I'm gonna go - you can let people know if they ask, right?"

"Don't worry. Rest up."

Jessie gave a half-hearted smile and wave and was out the door.

"Where are you?"

"On my way home. I'm so wet for you. I need to do something about it."

"Fuck," Jess breathed again. She typed, "I'm headed home, too. My baby needs me to take care of her."

"You have no idea. No one makes me feel like you do."

"They better not." She replied simply, biting her tongue on the matter as she climbed into the back of the car.

"Well, I guess you better get home soon and show me who this pussy belongs to."

Jessie exhaled sharply before readjusting her position. The tension that was mounting between her legs kept her from sitting still. Her mind was racing with thoughts and images of the two of you together. She needed you. She wanted to take you. And even with how much she loved and respected you, she wanted to claim you.

She rolled out her shoulders and gripped her knee tightly as she tried to relax.

Time went by achingly slowly as you sent teasing message after teasing message. Your messages were exhilarating, but taunting at times. It only made matters worse when her phone buzzed showing a phone call from you. She swallowed as she picked up.

"Hi, my love," your voice came through from the other end of the line. Jessie gulped once more as her nails dug into her leg again. "Don't say anything. I just got home. I'm getting undressed and I'm getting ready for you. Here - listen." Jessie's eyes fluttered shut and her jaw dropped as sounds of your wetness filled her head. Her eyes only opened again when your voice filtered back in. "That's how much I need you. It's all for you."

"I love you so much," Jessie said as she bundled her shirt in a fist, loss for words otherwise and desperate for some kind of release.

"I love you too, baby," you replied softly. "I can't wait until you fill me up."

Jessie's mouth fell agape once more. The craziest part of it all is that you were nearly as reserved as she was in day to day life. The fact that you were like this with her and her alone made her feel like she was on top of the world. She'd allowed you into a special place in her heart, in her being, and you'd done the same for her. Nothing could be better.

By the time the cab pulled up in front of your apartment, Jessie felt like she might burst out of her skin.

She took the stairs two at a time as she ascended the stairwell up to where you were waiting. She grunted in frustration as she fumbled with the keys before the lock turned and she threw the door open. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the light coming from your room down the hall. She'd taken off her shirt and thrown it aside and was already undoing her jeans by the time she rounded the doorframe to see you lying on the bed, head thrown back, fingers massaging your clit.

"Fuck, babe," Jessie breathed as she quickly finished undressing and climbed up onto the bed, immediately grasping your hand and giving you a kiss on the back of it before pushing your legs back and tasting you.

You let out a cry at the touch and placed your hand on the back of Jessie's head as she began to lap up your juices.

"Oh my god, baby," you moaned, hips gyrating up into her mouth. "I love you. I needed you so bad. Oh my god."

She moaned in appreciation as her lips closed around your clit and she sucked hard at the sensitive bud. She smiled as your hips jerked at the action.

"You taste so good," she mumbled as her tongue trailed up and down between your folds. "And you're all mine." She grinned again as your fingers tightened in her hair.

"No one else's," you affirmed in a breathy voice, followed up by another moan as she flicked her tongue across your clit. She continued to devour you and it wasn't long before your cries filled the room. "Don't stop," you pleaded as you gripped her hair tightly and began to cum. She moaned deeply as your legs flexed around her head and she continued to lap up your juices like it was the only thing that mattered in this world.

When your legs finally relaxed and your hips fell back down to the bed, she laid one more kiss on your lips before wiping her chin and climbing up your body. As she did, ran two fingers along your folds and grinned at the small cry you let out as your hands gripped her biceps. She leaned down and whispered in your ear as her fingers traced around your entrance.

"You still want me to fill you up, baby?" She nipped at your earlobe. "Make your pussy mine all over again? Make sure you keep thinking of me and only me anytime someone else wants you?"

"Oh god," you moaned in need as you writhed beneath her.

"Do you want me, baby?" She asked softly as her fingers continued to tease you.

"Always," you whimpered. "Oh god, Jess. Please, I need you inside me."

She wrapped her free arm around your back and leaned down to tenderly kiss your jawline.

"You're the only one for me," she said before sinking her fingers deep inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and she bit down on your collarbone, stopping herself before it got to be too much.

"Fuck, you feel so amazing," she breathed in reverie. "You feel incredible every time." She shook her head as she slowly pulled out and moved back in. "God, so tight."

You didn't hold back, your moans filling the room as Jessie began to pick up her pace. "You feel so good inside me, Jess." You clutched her to you. "You fill me perfectly."

Jessie growled in approval as she began to fuck you harder. Even if you hadn't laid a finger on her, she was dizzy with pleasure from knowing how good she made you feel and to know it was because of her - no one else - her.

"Baby, you're perfect for me," she praised as she took you in.

A night out with her team, fan adoring her and flirting with her, she didn't need it - all she wanted was to be with you right now. To be the one to take you high and over the edge. To fall asleep with you, wake up with you and breathe you in.

Your grip tightened on her and your cries rose in pitch. She kissed your neck tenderly.

"Go ahead, baby. I'm here, I won't let go," she coaxed you as your sounds echoed off the walls and you began to tighten around her fingers.

Her name fell from your lips as your whole body tensed up and all the pleasure building inside of you released. You were vaguely aware of the whimpers that came from her as she bucked against you and pulled you ever closer.

As you drifted down from your orgasm, she slowly and gently kissed up your neck and face. Your mind and body finally calmed and she reached your lips. She gave you a soft kiss coupled with a sly grin.

"Hi," she said. You were still catching your breath, but managed to nod and return a lazy smile.

"Hi," you chuckled. You brought your hands up to cup her face and kissed her again, deeper this time. She returned it earnestly, grazing a thumb across your cheekbone. You smiled once more and gave her a soft peck. "Thanks for coming home. I missed you."

She laughed and kissed your cheek. "I missed you, too. Could you tell?"

[garfunklefield]

Magic Dance!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

WWE!Fem!Reader/WWE!Yuki Tsukumo Warnings: locker room sex, tribbing/scissoring, humiliation kink, dirty talk, degradation, wet and messy, squirting, stone top!Yuki, pillow princess!reader Word count: 1297 DESC: Your on-stage rivalry is hot and heavy behind the scenes!

This is inspired by me watching too many Rhea Ripley edits..

I'm getting to every ask slowly!

The world knew you both hated each other. It was apparent from the planned tweets from your manager, calling Mama Yuki weak and flat-chested. Or how she’d yell on stage how she was going to rip into your flesh, throwing you around with care for your safety. You were both trained, so it didn’t hurt. But the allusion is what mattered. You were both actors, playing up your hatred for the stage. Millions were paying hundreds to see you throw her against the stage and slam your hips into her body, holding her down for three seconds. You both were so good at wrestling that your managers would tell you which matches to throw to make the other look good. You didn’t mind, though.

But, you both had a dirty little secret. Sneaking smiles and waves from the backstage. Blowing kisses and winking. Palming her flesh intimately to make her mind fog in front of thousands. Yuki grabbed your ass before throwing you into the ground, in a way you’d think about for days. 

Today wasn’t different, but the air was hotter. You were both in the locker room downstairs, with the stadium above. Getting ready, applying your intense makeup, and adjusting your scandalously skimpy outfits. Her hair was long and bleached blonde, slicked back into a low ponytail. Her theme was always dark and gothic, with black lipstick and intense eye makeup. Her outfits included straps and chains, cock rings, anything inherently sexual and fetish-like. Today she wore a dog collar around her neck, with a large circle dangling from the center. Her top dipped down to reveal her perky breasts, then shorts that left nothing to the imagination. 

You leaned into the girly aspect, to downplay your muscles and strength. Two space buns reinforced with hairspray and pink extensions. You wore unitard-like shorts that exposed your fat ass and thighs, with a shorter pale pink skirt. Large boots and a purple cropped t-shirt that came just above your breasts, nipples covered with pink heart pasties. Glitter all over your face and lips, pink lashes mixed into your lash extensions. Everyone called you Pinkie, rarely ever using your first name with it.

Two opposites, that’s what they loved about you both. No matter how submissive you looked or how dominant Yuki looked, you both had an equal fighting stance. Everyone loved how you’d both beat each other's asses in a sexually suggestive way, spitting insults at each other in between throws. No one knew who’d win, each fight being a competitive mystery. 

Yuki was seated on a bench, with a compact in her manicured hand. She was applying black liquid lipstick with an applicator, accentuating the corners of her mouth. Your lips were glittery and pink, glossy in the stage lights. She closed the compact and looked at you, as you adjusted your T-shirt.“Hey,” she cooed, scooting over to you on the bench. You glanced back at her and smiled, raising an eyebrow as she continued, “I like your outfit today.” 

“I like yours too. Especially that,” your hand trailed to her neck, tugging on the ring in the center, “I’m gonna have fun with it today.” Your voice could send anyone into a trace. Smooth and sultry, it almost distracted your girlfriend each time she fought you on the stage. Mainly when you’d growl those pathetic little insults her way. She had so many desires and thoughts running through her head and seeing you this way was getting her so hot and bothered. Yuki put her hand over yours and pulled you closer, closing the distance with your lips. Your pink lips molded against her black ones, sucking her bottom lip and licking along the center. She moaned softly, in that perfect way that was telling you this wouldn’t be just a simple make-out session. 

“No one’s here, baby,” she purred in between messy kisses, not caring if your makeup smudged. You still had an hour to fix it, right? You could get a little messy for your love. She wrapped two arms around your waist, before moving them to touch along the sides of your unitard bottoms. Your breath hitched in your throat as her lips pulled away and her eyes flitted to your pretty little clothed cunt. Two fingers hooked the crotch part of your clothing and pulled it to the side. Of course, you didn’t wear any underwear. “What a little slut,” she mumbled. You were already wet, it was obvious when her other hand spread apart your folds and your slick stuck to her fingertips. 

A whine escaped your lips, before you pressed them together, “Yuki… honey,” you tilted your head back, “Put your pussy on mine.. Please?”

She laughed, breathlessly, “You want me to fuck you with my pussy? You want your little cunt fucked so good?” Yuki stood and stripped from her shorts, no underwear either. You couldn’t suppress the noise that fell from your plump lips the moment you saw her climb on top of your spread legs, facing her back to you. She mushed her cunt into yours and rolled her hips side to side, “Yea-a-ah, dirty girl, dirty fucking girl. You like that, you slut?” She looked back with a sultry grin, eyes half-lidded. She knew how to turn you on in seconds, “You’re so greedy. You wanted to fuck me so bad, admit it.” 

You breathed out shakily, with an embarrassed blush creeping on your cheeks, “M-m.. maybe,” you gasped when she pressed her vulva onto yours, rocking her hips back and forth teasingly, “Yes,” you whimpered, “Yeah, I do baby. So bad.” A pout pulled at your lips as she rocked back and forth then ground side to side. Just to tease you with her squishy, warm pussy. You wanted to cum then and there, your back arching into every wave of pleasure she pushed your way. She was getting harder, more intense, and it made your cute little noises louder.

“Yeah, you like that, whore? Whine for me, yeah, you wanna cum? Beg for it. Mm- shit, beg for it,” Yuki’s voice filled you like honey as she fucked into your slit with her engorged clit, making you feel so much pleasure with just a few thrusts. She rut into you like she was in heat, humping harder than she had the last few times you’d had sex. You could hear your honeypot squelch at every thrust, to the point where you couldn’t hear anything else. You were begging, sure, but you were unaware of what you were saying exactly. It just felt so good. 

Warm waves of hedonistic pleasure coursed through your lower half until you couldn’t help it. This warmth was familiar as it took over and made you release all over her, squirting like a good little slut onto her pussy. She kept grinding, and you knew it wasn’t for her pleasure. Yuki had told you how tribbing didn’t feel like much for her, but she loved it because you got off. She loved to please you more than she liked to get off. You enjoyed it, liking to see her happy from making you squirt every single time. You gasped and moaned as you continued to cum, sticky and wet juices coming out of your tight hole right into her pussy. She grinned back at you, watching your faces as she continued. Your lipgloss was smudged and your head was dazed, so you didn’t realize when she got off of you, leaving your legs spread. You didn’t even realize you had squirted on most of your shorts, and a little bit of your skirt too. 

Yuki pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaving a small black mark, and smirked into your ear, “I’m gonna win this match, slut.” 

[tonyspank]

Tony....please make me an angsty-romantic, JO or JO character x Fem!Reader one shot! You decide who it fits more. With a good ending, please!

I'm currently listening to Waves by Calpurnia.... this song is so mesmerizing.

My request would be based on that, but it's okay if you don't want to do it!

Hope you are eating well, Thank you so much!

-🎸

HOLD ON

Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: “I don’t want to die.”

Warnings: Cancer, gunshot, blood, violence, and let me know if there’s anymore.

A/N: thank you so much for this request anon! i hope you enjoy, although im not very good at angst 💔

Jenna’s not famous in this & also! this was heavily inspired by jbs music video !!

1.7k words

$13,892, the minimum amount the doctors told you Jenna's treatment would be. $14,283, the amount you were quoted by a second hospital for the same treatment.

The problem? Jenna has no insurance.

Jenna has no insurance, and you have no money. You saw the look on your girlfriend's face when you were given these estimates, and you knew she practically gave up right then and there. You promised Jenna you would find a way to cover the cost, no matter what it took. But you have no idea where to begin.

That was three weeks ago.

Jenna was your best friend, your companion, and your girlfriend, and you can't bear to see her suffer without the treatment she needs. But with only two months until the deadline, you still have no idea how you'll ever be able to afford the medical attention she needs.

You sit on the floor of your bedroom, your back against your bed frame, and a hand covers your face. You take a deep breath, but it does little to soothe the tightness in your chest. You feel lost, helpless, and hopeless.

But you know one thing for sure: No matter what happens, you'll do anything and everything you can to help Jenna.

Jenna stirs in her sleep, awaking you from your thoughts. You quickly wipe away a tear before she opens her eyes. You know that you have to stay strong for her, no matter how overwhelmed you may feel.

When she opens her eyes and looks around, her gaze finally meets yours. Her smile is weak, and you can see the pain behind her eyes. She holds her hand out to you, and you quickly take it, kissing it softly and pressing her palm against your cheek.

"Good morning." She says, her voice raspy from lack of use.

"Hi." You reply, leaning forward and kissing her lips gently. Jenna's lips are cold and dry, a stark contrast to the warmth of her hand in yours. You try not to think about how much pain she's in.

"What are you doing sitting on the floor?" She asks you, her eyes searching yours for an answer. You smile softly, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I wanted to be closer to you." Jenna's eyes soften, and a small, grateful smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

But it soon fades away, replaced by a look of sadness. "You should get some sleep," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I know you've been up for hours."

You feel a lump form in your throat, knowing that she's trying to protect you even in her own pain. "I can't." You admit.

"I'm okay." She mutters, but you know she isn't. She can barely move her left arm. Her breathing is labored, and she's so pale, it's like she's lost all her color.

"You're not okay."

"No." She agrees, looking down at her hands. "But I will be. Please, Y/N, get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up." You finally relent, knowing that she's right. You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead before climbing into the bed next to her.

"I'm scared." She admits it quietly.

"I am too." You tell her, pulling her close. "I promise I'll be here for you every step of the way," you whisper, feeling her body relax against yours. "We'll get through this together."

With those words, she closes her eyes, finding tranquility in your presence as you both drift off to sleep, holding onto each other tightly.

Your dreams have been the same for a few days, almost as if you were reliving your life with Jenna. The memories are always happy, and they help distract you from the reality of the situation.

You dream about the day you met her. It was on the late afternoon on a beach in Los Angeles, with the waves going back and the sun rising and falling. You were just wandering along the shore, looking at the scenery and the people.

She was sitting on a large rock, looking out over the ocean, her feet in the water, and the sand beneath her. You remember seeing her from a distance and being immediately drawn to her.

So, you walked towards her, not knowing what you were going to say, or what you were even going to do. "Can I help you?" She asked, turning her head and giving you a smile.

You felt a rush of nerves as you approached her; she was gorgeous, and her smile was captivating.

That wasn't the only day you spent together. Every weekend, you would meet on that beach. Sometimes, you would go out for dinner, and sometimes you would just spend the whole day together.

But now, it was hard for Jenna to leave the apartment, let alone walk on the beach.

You had been dating for three years, and now she was in your apartment, her illness was getting worse, and your money was running low. You were struggling to balance taking care of her and working long hours to pay for her medical bills.

Another week had passed. Jenna had gotten worse, the chemotherapy was taking a toll on her body, and the medical bills were piling up faster than you could keep up with.

You were barely making enough to cover her medication and hospital costs, and the stress was beginning to affect you. You had been working nonstop, barely getting any sleep, and you were starting to feel run down.

You were losing hope. The deadline was only a month away, and you had no idea how you would manage to come up with the money. You had tried everything, but nothing seemed to be working.

Jenna was fading away right in front of your eyes, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You couldn't bear the thought of losing her. She was the love of your life—the one person who made you feel alive. She had been the only person to truly understand you, and the thought of losing her was like a dagger in your heart.

You were sitting in your garage , surrounded by all the tools and equipment you had collected over the years. Your eyes fell on an orange plastic gun sitting on a workbench, gathering dust. It was a toy gun that Jenna had given you as a joke, but now it could be the key to your plan.

You picked it up along with a can of black spray paint, determined to do whatever it took to save Jenna. You carefully painted the gun, and once it dried, you tucked it into your waistband.

Jenna's last words before she was admitted to the hospital echoed in your mind.

I don't want to die.

It was a cold, rainy night. You were dressed in all black, the orange toy gun was tucked into the pocket of your hoodie, and your motorcycle helmet was securely fastened under your arm. Your hands were shaking as you gripped the gun. You were nervous, and you knew the consequences of what you were about to do.

But you couldn't let fear stop you. Jenna's life was on the line, and you were willing to do whatever it took to save her, even if it meant risking everything. With a deep breath, you stepped toward the bank teller, sliding her a note demanding the money and making it clear that you were armed.

The teller looked at you in shock but quickly complied with your demands, giving you the money. You quickly stuffed it into a bag, keeping the plastic gun hidden in your pocket as you quickly walked toward the back exit where your bike was parked.

Suddenly, an alarm rang out , causing panic to erupt in the bank. The security guard sprang into action, blocking your path to the exit. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you shoved him into a nearby table and made a run for it, jumping onto your bike and speeding away as police sirens wailed behind you, knowing that you had to escape quickly before they caught up to you.

You weaved through traffic, trying your hardest to escape from the multiple police cars chasing after you, their sirens blaring. It was a dark and stormy night, and you were driving through the streets of the city, the rain pouring down heavily. Your hands were shaking, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Abruptly, a car pulled out in front of you, causing you to slam on the brakes. You looked around and realized you were surrounded by police cars with no way out. The officers approached with their guns drawn, ordering you to put your hands in the air.

Your hands stayed on the handles, the gun pressed against your leg, and a lump formed in your throat. There was no way out. You were trapped, and there was no way you would escape.

A shot rang out, causing you to flinch and close your eyes in fear. When you opened your eyes, there was blood seeping through your hoodie, and you felt a sharp pain in your side. You never really understood the meaning of flight or fight until that moment, but now it was clear - you had to fight for your life.

Your survival instincts kicked in, and you made a split-second decision to make a run for it, ignoring the pain and speeding past the officers. The sound of gunfire echoed in your ears as you accelerated towards the familiar streets you had taken nearly hundreds of times.

Your bike sputtered to a stop as you reached your destination, sirens getting closer and closer. You stumbled off the bike and ran through the hallways of the distinct building, clutching your bleeding side and pushing past startled onlookers.

You could see Jenna's room number at the end of the hallway, and you knew you had to reach her before it was too late. You burst into the room, and relief flooded your body when you saw her sleeping peacefully.

"Y/N?" She whispered, slowly opening her eyes. Her voice was weaker than ever, and her skin was pale.

You rushed to her side, tears streaming down your face as you laid your head on her shoulder. "I'm here, Jenna," you choked out, holding her hand tightly. "I love you."

Jenna weakly squeezed your hand, her head slowly turning to the doorway where the police stood, waiting to take you away. "I love you too," she said softly, her eyes filled with tears.

[miirohs]

braid my hair while i hold your heart [m.d.l]

pairing: OPLA!Monkey D. Luffy x Fem!Reader wc: 0.4k cw: n/a an: another one for yall thirsties, i feel oddly inspired. getting hair in ur eyes is a very real issue btw- have i mentioned how much i want to see how fluffy luffys hair could get?

You leaned against the railing of the crows nest, breeze blowing strands of hair from your face.

The sky was a pale blue and orange as the sun seem to fall closer to the horizon, glare skipping across the gentle waters. The boat was drifting, oddly quiet for once.

"Y/n!"

The sound of elastic snapping turned you around, Luffy standing on the rail. In his hands was a bouquet, flowers shining and vibrant in the setting sun. You had no time to ask what they were, as he dropped them, rushing to you.

"Luffy-" Before you could finish, he rushed into your open arms, sweeping you into a bone crushing hug. Spinning around, you both collapsed to the floor, pinned down on your sides.

"Hey- Hey! What's all that for?! You're suffocating me!" You laughed, trying to wiggle out of his grip. You rolled over him and pinned him down, blowing raspberries.

He didn't seem the least bit surprised though. The rough-housing wasn't uncommon, his way of initiating contact between the both of you.

His hands were wrangled up in your hair, a delighted look on his face as he clutched at small strands, curling them around his finger. The sun seemed to reflect in his eyes, lighting up with joy.

He always seem to find a way to brush his finger through your hair, untangling the knots with a gentleness you could only describe as familiar.

"You really like playing with my hair, don't you?" you asked, a playful grin on your face.

He nodded, pushing you off him so that he could sit up.

"Do you want me to do your hair? your hair gets so tangled from the wind, i wonder how you manage to work with it blowing crazy." He exclaimed as you got pushed yourself back up, shaking your head.

"Sure thing. One question though, do you know how to do braids?" You asked, picking at your nails as he shuffled behind you.

"Mmm, nope. I'm sure i could figure it out though."

"I'll leave you to it then," You said, legs dangling out the gaps of the crows nest as you looked down.

You could hear him mumbling to himself as he tried different techniques, and the occasional tug of your hair making you yelp a little, always ending with a hushed apology from him.

If it weren't for those little tugs, you might have fallen asleep, drifting in between sleep and staying awake. Eventually, you leaned against the wooden planks, drifting off for good.

It wasn't until a little while later that you were gently roused from your peaceful half-slumber.

The sun had set for good, and the sky was a pale shade of blue and orange, streaked with clouds.

Luffy now sitting beside you, looking out at the horizon. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and he seemed lost in thought.

"Hi Luffy."

He turned his head to look at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Hey, Y/n, you were sleeping pretty soundly there. Feel better now?"

"Mmm. Did you finish yet?" You stifled a yawn, stretching wide.

"Yeah! “Hey- hey turn around for me, let me see you!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands. You obliged, turned your head as you gave a bashful smile.

"See, you look perfect.”

"Perfect, huh?" you chuckled, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

"Yeah! The flowers were definitely a good touch. You look like a sea princess now! Wait, maybe you could be my sea queen when i become king of the seas!" He rambled as you reached over for what was left of the flowers.

"Where'd you get these? These are beautiful," You whispered, holding one in your hand to get a better whiff of its scent.

Luffy snapped his fingers, excitedly waving his hands. "Nami saw them on the island, and I thought they looked like they'd make you smile."

"Thank you Luffy, so much," You whispered shyly.

"You're welcome, Y/n! I'm glad you like them. And if you want more flowers, just let me know. I'll get you a whole garden!" He exclaimed.

His eyes seemed illuminated by the stars, shining and glazed over as he watched your expression closely.

"Oh no, are you going to cry? Did i do something wrong?" He fretted.

"Nope, i'm just feeling a little overwhelmed. We should probably go to bed."

"Lets just sleep here then!" He patted the spot next to him, and you crouched down, grinning.

"Alright, but you better not mess up my hair."

"I won't, promise!"

[notjustjavierpena]

can you write something silly with hubby? just a drabble is fine 🤗 i loooved them in lovey-dovey!

Honey (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I'm silly and inspired by a tiktok trend.

Summary: Javier Peña, husband and honey connoisseur.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Fluff, love and kisses!

Word count: 744

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/137384134

Honey

Javier opens a window to let out some of the warm air caused by the oven being on. He has placed Inés on the counter, watching her closely as she dangles her legs in the air. He is leaning against the edge of the kitchen table beside her while you cook dinner. You’re making a marinade for wings, mixing a few things together that you need to use now before they surpass their expiration date. 

It gives you an opportunity to use the tub of honey that you bought at the town square market a few months ago. As it looks now, you’ve only used it for your tea and some warm milk for Lucas’ sore throat a few weeks ago. So when you pull it out of the cabinet and start spooning the thick golden substance into the mixing bowl, Javier raises a brow. 

“That honey’s fake, mi amor (my love),” he says casually but you know better, looking up to find the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes that he thinks he is so talented at hiding. 

“Oh, here we go,” you suppress a roll of your eyes, but you cannot control the fond grin that you have on your face, “You a honey expert now, sheriff?” 

“Papá?” Inés pipes up from beside the both of you. She reaches out for him, tugging on his shirt to get his attention, “What’s fake?”

“Fake means not real, mija (my daughter). Like this honey,” Javier explains and scoops up his daughter, settling her on his hip and reaching into the drawer with cutlery. He gets out a spoon to let her taste it. She grabs the spoon from him as he guides it into her mouth. 

“But it’s yummy!” She exclaims excitedly at the sweetness that you usually find overwhelming. 

“See? Inés likes it,” you tease him. 

“Betrayal of the highest order,” he says theatrically to make his toddler giggle, grabbing the spoon from her again before she hugs him close. She rests her head on his shoulder. 

“You’re silly,” she lets him know. 

“Mamá’s silly for thinking this is honey,” he continues and you narrow your eyes, pausing mid-stir and giving him a look that tells him to elaborate. He blows a raspberry on Inés’ cheek, “I’ve spent my fair share of time around real honey and it doesn’t look like that. It looks like Mamá.” 

“Mamá’s honey!” Inés connects the dots even if she isn’t aware of the joke. 

It takes half a second for you to burst into happy laughter at his stupid line. You wipe your hands in your apron, only slightly flustered at the charming line that he has just thrown your way. You finally roll your eyes, looking exasperated, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yet I was clever enough to land myself the sweetest thing in this life,” he charms and grins, takes a step toward you, his free arm sliding around your waist, “And let’s not forget that you’re the one who married me.”

“Clearly,” you stress with a fond smile and move in closer to the two of them, Inés’ eyes lighting up at having your attention, “My judgment is questionable.”

Javier sneaks himself a kiss, a warm and lingering touch of your lips, the kind that says those three little words without making a sound. When you finally pull back, his smirk has softened into something more affectionate, his forehead resting against yours.

“See? Real honey,” he whispers. 

“Ew!” Inés squeaks but it seems more out of jealousy. 

“You’re full of it,” you tell him while planting a few kisses on Inés’ cheek, letting her know she isn’t forgotten. She reaches out for you but you can’t take her with your hands full, so instead she starts squirming to be let down. 

“Nooo, Papá!” She giggles, her laughter filling the kitchen as he pretends to fumble with the task for a moment, starting his usual routine of pretending to put her down headfirst which always causes her to squeal and kick her legs. 

“Alright, alright,” he finally says, giving in and planting her on her feet properly. She runs off into the living room, you realize, after a whole spoonful of sugary honey. 

Javier doesn’t seem bothered, instead turns back to you with the playful grin never leaving his face. He winks, finally having you to himself, “Worked though, didn’t it?” 

You shake your head, laughing softly as he envelops you in his arms, “It always does.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[dykeomania]

PLS write smut for Hazel from bottoms..I need her so bad I fear..maybe like subtop!hazel..is her having a strap too far..I need her..

this is not. a full fledged fic. but this is the first time in a sec that ive let myself be inspired by an ask. this is weirdly switcher and just pure gay-sexier than it is subby!hazel. lmk if you want things to get subbier, bc i can probably do that. but for rn i have.. this image.. and i want you to walk with me on this but also hold my hand because i'm #supershy,

(minors [including 17 year olds 🙏🏽] dni fr, under the cut: not that proofread. strap lol (r!r), foul language, breeding... language... (my bad) (hazel has a strap tho), subtop!hazel except i could've made this shit so much worse so i guess switch!hazel but like, switch!reader, idk everyone's just a whore. there's an "i love you" (or.. multiple, i guess). there's a mirror. there's a vibrator. purely stream of consciousness, i don't even think the position they're fucking in makes physical sense fr. i was bored and i was thinking, so i wrote a lot. this whole thing is not realistic btw. i have very little confidence that hazel's blowing anyone's back out, but. it's my first day out in a min so i'm rusty. all respect to the community. next time when i pull up, i'll offer something a little more tame and saccharine as opposed to [exaggerated p*rnstar moans!!!]. reblogs and whatnot appreciated.)

so, i have this .. picture.

of you putting a bullet vibe in the pocket of hazel's strap before she fucks you from behind for the first time.

she eventually finds the confidence to blow your back out, and tbh, you think it's gonna end with you seeing stars because you can already hear the fucking lottery machines going off in your head. she's fucking you so well, and hazel's problem is that you're letting her know.

at first she thinks she's going crazy. but those fucking mewls into the pillow over how deep she is, how she's making you feel so good, how you've missed her so much, are sending shocks through her clit that the vibe keeps amplifying, everytime her pelvis hits your ass.

if she thrusts hard enough, which god knows she does, it almost makes her buckle over.

you're left clenching the sheets, and gasping against the linen while she fucks you, taking you in a way that's so uncharacteristically perverse that you don't even have the brain capacity to ask yourself why you didn't ask her to take you like this, sooner. her thrusts are quick and shallow, her words breathy and a little sharp. with every jolt of your body forwards as she experimentally blows your back out, it's like you feel yourself becoming more and more removed from this fucking planet. you can't help but cry -- sob, even -- as she makes you into a mess of limbs, leaving you tugging at your tits in one split second, and gripping at the sheets the next.

something happens, though.

where her hips rut into yours in deep, hard thrusts, spaced out by what feels like eternities, you can hear her. she's moaning now, breath quickening and chest rippling everytime her crotch hits yours at a particular angle. she's mewling, and unless you're hallucinating from how fucked up you are, you can hear her --

"fuck... f--uuh--ck, fuck, fuckfuck..."

-- silently beginning to whimper.

the girl goes from bullying your cunt to burying her strap deep enough in it to make the apex of its curve nudge against your g-spot, in a way that leaves your mouth hanging wide open with nothing spilling out of it maybe other than drool, but...

it's the slick warmth of hazel's back pressed nearly flush against yours and the heat of her breath against your shoulder that makes your eyes flutter open, facing your reflection in the floor-length mirror stationed across from hazel's bed.

hazel's in it so deep, you can't even see the strap anymore. and by no exaggeration, it's like an earthquake pulses through her body everytime she nudges her hips into your ass, making your vision blurry. she's rutting into you. greedily grinding her strap into your cunt in the effort of chasing her own high.

it wasn't a secret that hazel was sensitive. more often than not, the poor girl writhed against your mouth whenever she let you put it on her ("let you" is a loose sentence -- she begs for it, sometimes). you don't even know why you're surprised that your girlfriend is getting this close over having a bullet vibe pressed against her clit, hardly protected by fabric. "b--babe--"

what sounds like a plea, amongst the feeling of hazel's thighs trembling against the back of yours, inspires something sinister inside you.

you wind your hips against her, pressing back against the strap and the toy. the sight of your ass rolling against hazel's pelvis, combined with how good it feels is gonna actually, like, make hazel fucking--

"don't cum."

she loses her breath, entirely, and her rhythm, apparently. she slows, as if that was her body's instinct to obey your orders, despite the string of breaths that tumbles out of her mouth. "n-- wha-- fuck, no, nonono--"

you wind your hips deeper into hers, extracting a moan from your own throat -- fuck, maybe your gut, since that's how deep you could feel her. you press your ass into her until you feel the buzz of the vibe against folds, the frequency of it changing and humming as you press it further into her clit. "y--es," you grit. "don't fucking cum yet, hazel."

the dull, rolling vibrations through the fabric of the strap draw hazel's eyes into the back of her head, and then closed. she's grunting now -- or all of the above -- and she tries her best to unchap her lips, fruitlessly dragging over them. the little breaths she takes through them only brings them back to being puffy, pink, and a gateway of noise that gives evidence to struggle.

"gonna let me count you down?" you puff out your sentence in one breath, and hazel can fucking hear the grin in your still-fucked-out tone and it makes her whine louder.

"yeah? gonna fuckin' let me count you down so you can cum in me, haze?"

cum.. in you. three words that you'd never even fucking uttered to her before this, and that she never fucking thought she would ever hear and.. it looks like she can't complain, because her eyes roll into the back of her head and hazel swears that she -- at least, briefly -- meets jesus christ, "oh my god--," hazel slurs, hips rolling impossibly deeper into yours, it's a miracle she hasn't swabbed your cervix yet -- "ohmygod, oh my god--"

"three..."

ohfuck. ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck. it's the soft chorus that she whispers to herself as she starts to fuck herself into you, again, opting for thrusts as a means of trying to regain control with no consideration for your demise. the vision of her blurs in the mirror, and you feel your fists grasping at her sheets again.

"fuck--" you croak. "t--two.."

she pulls you further into her, and at this point, hazel's okay with being written off as a lost cause, 'cause fuck, it's not like she has a choice. the strap brief is soaked and it's entirely your fault, and god, she throws her head back. a mess of words, a mess of sensations, hazel just blurts, "oh my g--od--i love you--"

you burst out laughing at the random proclamation, admist everything.

she forces her head down to watch you, jaw hung open. and at this point, she's just speaking. rambling and slurring and gasping, tears-in-eyes-in-awe-and-all, as she watches you throw your ass back against her.

"iloveyou so much, you're so f--ucking hot, whatthefuck?--"

there's something weirdly sweet about it. something that makes your cunt clench around the strap in a way that hollows you out shortly thereafter, and lets hazel hit that fucking spot just right. before you know it, you're wherever hazel is, cunt fully creaming around the silicon.

"i love you--" you dumbly spit out a giggle, a gasp causing a steam of spit to cascade off your bottom lip and onto hazel's navy sheets. "babe," you warn. "ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggod, you're gonna make me cu---"

"fuckingsayone," hazel, unbelievably pleads while she unbelievably spears her strap into your cunt. "oh my fucking god, say one, please, please, pleaseplease--"

she starts begging. unprompted. "it's s-so good, it's so, so good, feels so fucking good, wanna c--um in you--" and she probably repeats it. probably repeats that she wants to cum in you until she's blue in the face and,

"o-one--"

until you let her.

the noise that's ripped from hazel's throat is .. embarrassing. virginal, almost. fully reverberates off the walls, and she trembles. her clit convulses against the vibe, twitching with every short stream of her release and she folds. poor girl was holding your hips for something -- for reassurance, to get a grip, dear life, perhaps? as her hips languidly fuck and press into the surface of your ass., rocking your near limp-frame after you've pretty much creamed all over her strap.

hazel hangs over you for god knows how long, dark hair shaggy and some strands stuck to her forehead in wavy wisps. cheeks flushed, and lower lip bitten to hell. the bullet vibe fucking dies, thank god almighty, because god knows she was not in any shape to reach down and turn it off.

she stays like that for a while, until she you feel her again. this time, only gentler, and much more like herself. soft hands caressing the skin of your back, her breath warm and shaky as she peppers a splay of kisses across your skin.

as you come from the surface of your own high, you feel yourself hum. still full of her, and dizzy with it. despite it, you manage -- slurring, slightly.

"haze?"

there's a hum, somewhere.

"did that really feel that good?"

hazel distantly nods, brown locks brushing against your back.

"uh.." hazel frowns, letting out a weak laugh. "y-yeah, honestly."

the mental note gets filed away somewhere deep in the haze of your brain and you grin, when you press your ass one against her just for shits and giggles and hear her gasp, from the sensitivity of it alone.

"that's my girl."