#ITS A WIN THREE FOLD

[princessbrunette]

hiii princess i hope you can find inspiration in this one :)

bunny!reader getting all wet and horny after she gets all cocky and can think she can arm wrestle him. him winning so easily is hot and he notices she likes it and starts teasing her and fucks her

-👛

the best time to get silly with rafe would be after he smokes, which is why he has no problem stubbing out his joint with a smirk when you scooch up infront of him all giggly asking “rafey can we arm wrestle?”

“you really think that’s wise?” the smirk carries into his tone of voice as he adjusts himself in his seat, spreading his legs a little wider, arms folded casually over himself.

“i just think i can beat you.” you tilt your head mischievously, suppressing your laugh as he stares you down.

“oh really? alright…” he sits forward, seemingly going with the joke in good nature. rafe licks his lips, and positions his elbow on the small table between you, lightly slapping his bicep twice in gesture. “lets uh… let’s see it then.”

you feel all girlish and shy when you place your smaller, manicured hand into his larger, manlier one. he gets to adjusting the stance of your elbow, muttering something about not wanting to ‘break your damn arm’, before gripping your hand readily.

“‘kay, three two one, go.” you sing, grinning before putting all of your strength into trying to pin his arm down. unsurprisingly, his arm doesn’t move.

“are you actually trying?” he drawls, cocky as ever. you grit your teeth, throwing your weight more into your arm as you struggle in your seat. he’s not making any effort to pin you down, but not making any effort to hold you back either.

“s’not fair.” you strain, and he huffs out a quiet laugh before gently bringing your arm down— beating you. “lemme use my other arm.”

after three solid attempts, you’re pouting and your arm is sore — but you can’t help but feel effected by his casual display of strength. as you stare him down, all sulky and needy — he’s reclining in his seat, satisfied.

“you finished?” he sarks, not particularly expecting an answer. gently you scooch over, hand resting on his belt — and no words are needed once you look up at him. “yeah? it’s want want want with you, huh?” he complains, but slowly, he begins to undo his belt with one hand. the nonchalant skilfulness has you tightening your thighs together. “so what do you want? specifically?” he tries to sound bored, but you can already tell he’s hardening in his boxers.

“wanna suck it.” you mewl quietly, no louder than needed for him to hear you. he scoffs, standing above you to pull his belt from its loops all together.

“alright well uh— i’ll do you one better. why don’t you run along and grab that plug you’re so obsessed with and bend over for me. i got time today, so you’re getting double stuffed.”

[hellsslibrary]

sub...Michael Kaiser...with male reader...please...I'm begging...

Just saw the latest chapter and him saying "please" made me simultaneously combust.

What if he says that word but on a completely different context, iykwim 👀👀👀👀

"In an ideal relationship, pure love and dirty sex complement each other, not exclude each other."

#a.n. : You can't imagine how much fun it was to write this, different sides of the dominant were fighting inside me, it was wild.

MASTERLIST is here.

!!Warnings: top!dom!male!reader, sub!bottom!Michael, brat taming, humiliation, light strangulation, dry orgasm, you dig Kaiser to the point of half death, reader breaks the bed and unironically fights Alexis for a place in the hotel with Michael by playing tic-tac-toe (mention, I thought it was funny), Kaiser is literally folded in half, one bite to his ankle and a slight mention of blood, three phrases in German (my half-German roots take over), riding.

It was obviously not a revelation to Kaiser why this had started. He had started to understand it the moment you almost fought Ness to share a hotel room with him. After all, you, as adults and completely mentally ill people, played tic-tac-toe and you beat Alexis. After all, he could survive a couple of nights not in a room with Michael, but you? Oh no, you had too big of a plan for him.

He had figured it out himself, as soon as he saw that you were actually focused on winning this stupid game and not playing for fun... But I guess he didn't understand what exactly was waiting for him. Although that's the best part.

"G-gott! Y/n, slow d-down! This is, oh shit, this is too mu-much!" came out unintelligibly from his lips, while he grabbed the sheets beneath him with all his might, his graceful fingers almost tearing apart the poor fabric that was holding on with all its might.

"Are you sure?" you clarify, knowing he won’t answer because he doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want to seem too needy.

And so he does. He stays silent, burying his face in the pillows and pushing his ass back a little more to somehow meet your ruthless thrusts that didn’t allow him to breathe properly.

You squeeze his hips, pressing lightly on his stomach under your fingers, causing him to whine loudly, even muffled by the cotton pillowcases. His toned ass jiggles slightly with each thrust, making you want to bite one of his cheeks right now, but oh, what a shame the human body can’t bend like that, huh?

Kaiser felt too good as you admired his ass and his bulging back without any other thought. He felt like his whole being was melting, turning into nothing more than obedient plasticine in your hands, which you could bend as you wish.

He bites his lip to hold back another moan. It seems like he can hear his heartbeat in every part of his body, no matter how unimportant or far from his head. It seems like his blood is so hot that he is about to melt... Not that it is not true, considering how sweaty you both have been for the last few dozen minutes.

"Aren't you going to answer me, handsome? Or do you want me to stop and leave you empty and thirsty, hm?" your whisper sends involuntary goosebumps down his body when he realizes that your chest is rubbing against his back and he makes some kind of sound similar to hiccups, turning his head to the side.

"Shut up."

The phrase made your hips freeze almost immediately, your eyebrow involuntarily crawling up at the fact that he had the strength to speak clearly, and also to act like a complete brat, when you were obviously lifting him to Heaven and back with your actions.

"Move, idiot. Why the hell did you stop?"

Your eye twitched and you took a deep breath, looking down at his frowning, flushed face. There were traces of moisture all over his face from tears and sweat mixed together, his lips were slightly swollen from holding back moans, but most importantly, his eyes. The shine in them. He knew what he was doing, or rather, what he was saying.

Before he could come to his senses, your lips spread into an almost animalistic smile and your cock completely slipped out of him. Kaiser was about to complain, but you abruptly flip him over onto his back, and then immediately, without warning, you penetrate inside.

His next moan was probably heard by everyone in the hotel, or at least on your floor. And all the following ones, too. He was no longer holding back, moaning at the top of his lungs. His hands were looking for something to grab onto and wanted to close around your shoulders, but you would not allow him such luxury, so you squeezed his palms above his head.

"What a pity. If you want to act like a little slut, then I will have to treat you like one," you lean right over his face, sliding out so that only your tip remains inside him, and then penetrate in the roughest way you can.

"Ohhh, ple-please... Ple-please, fuck, s-sir, I b-beg yo-you... P-please!"

He himself did not understand what he was begging for, while you just let out a chuckle from this. Michael could barely form any coherent words, he was just mumbling obvious nonsense now.

Your fingers squeezed the blond's leg at his knee, throwing one of his legs over your shoulder, practically folding him in half. He muttered something unintelligible, tears starting to flow from his closed eyes while his hands clenched into fists helplessly in your grip.

"What? You decided to fix yourself in a couple of seconds, handsome? That's not like you. My dick makes you drunk?" he would never admit that it did, but his head shook in agreement too convulsively.

You bite his ankle, digging into the white skin, causing him to cry out in pain, but he doesn't complain. He just stares excitedly at the small trickle of blood rolling down his leg. Your free hand, not holding his hand, falls on his neck.

And God, something clicks inside him. He cums, but nothing comes out, in that same second, although your hand did not have time to settle down and squeeze properly. You only look at the pathetic state of the German while he experiences a dry orgasm and how his cock twitches.

"What a pity... Although you are a smart boy. Even without realizing anything, you do not dare to cum for real without my permission..." Michael only moans in response, not being able to say anything anymore, especially now that you are blocking part of his air.

"Please, Y-y/n," he manages to mumble somehow, looking at you with empty, smoky eyes, hazed with a haze of lust, and you feel how he squeezes around your cock. Probably on purpose, but now you do not care.

"Please what, baby? You have to speak clearly," he frowns, looking away and staring at some tasteless painting on the wall, trying to pull some kind of speech out of his brain.

"Let me cum... Bitte, mein schatz," Kaiser whines, managing to somehow rise up, although it is clearly uncomfortable and even painful for him, given the position he is in, and kissing the corner of your lips, missing the main target. "Bitte lass mich abspritzen, lass mich auf deinen Schwanz abspritzen..."

You feel something break inside you. He looked beautiful and didn't even seem embarrassed as usual by his obvious vulnerability and the state of some kind of toy in your hands. In the end, he even found the strength to kiss you and didn't even wince at the fact that he literally bent in half for a couple of seconds. Well, how can you not spoil such a boy, right?

His head falls back, he sighs raggedly when you begin to pound him with the maximum speed and roughness you can muster right now. The bed beneath you creaks pitifully, as does Kaiser himself, not expecting such pressure.

"Dann komm, Hübscher," your words send him over the edge immediately, squeezing your cock as if in a vice.

He paints your and his stomach white, cumming surprisingly much. And he doesn't react at all when you continue your thrusts with a same force, only small sighs escaping from his lips.

But then he screams and something cracks under you. You manage to catch him and throw his leg aside carefully but quickly, and press him to your chest.

"You... Managed to break the bed? Wow, new even for you," Michael mutters, watching the mattress and sheets sag in the hole in the bed, chuckling hoarsely and weakly hugging your shoulders now that he has this opportunity.

"I'll ask to change the room and pay for the bed... I don't even want to imagine the face of the girl at the reception, but..." You look up at the blond, who is now sitting on your lap and thoughtfully narrow your gaze.

"Ride you? Good," he understands what is needed, feeling that you have not yet finished and managed to twitch inside him even at such a moment. "You can't be trusted with the pace anymore, you're too wild... Next time we're in hotels, I'll ride you."

"Fair and sweet, I'm more than willing," he starts moving his hips, moaning with every movement, still sensitive from his orgasm, trying not to go too fast so you both don't fall off the bed... Until the broken part of the bed falls to the floor, causing a huge noise, but hey, you're facing the ace of German youth football, who cares? Especially one so rarely vulnerable and caring like this.

[ramp-it-up]

Try a Little Tenderness

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.7 K

Summary: Steve can’t win you with presents. He’s got to try a little tenderness.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Pining, flirting, organized crime, implied ice skating, teasing, former jerky boyfiend, inexperienced reader, nipple play, oral (both receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, crying during sex, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“Good morning, Steve!”

You were stocking onions, but you looked up and smiled as the tall blond entered the store, setting off the bell. He was well built and handsome and wearing a fine wool coat with a red scarf. It was a cool December, but New York had not yet had its first big snowfall.

“Mornin’, Ambrosia,” came his gruff response. 

You kind of liked his early morning voice. And the nickname. The first time he came in, he’d picked up an apple, already biting into it but also already paying. He handed you a twenty and said, “Mmmmm, Name?”, pointing to you with the apple. Flustered, you replied with the name of the apple instead of your name and the rest was history. 

This morning, Steve smiled at you and his blue eyes were sparkling. They always sparkled when he looked at you. He seemed very sweet.

“The usual.”

You laughed and went behind the counter to wash your hands.

“Of course, already had the fixin’s set up for you.”

You started the water for the espresso and got out the fresh everything bagels you’d put aside for him. Steve was one of your best customers, coming in every morning, and several evenings. He’d been coming in for about four months now.

Steve settled at the counter and watched you prepare his food. He looked at his watch: 7:42 am. He knew you'd been at work almost two hours now and that you were working very hard. One of your braids had come undone from your bun, and he wanted to put it back, but he didn’t touch you. You wore no makeup, yet your skin always glowed, and when you looked up at him, his heart nearly stopped. 

You were naturally beautiful. And your apron did not hide your curves. Or the fact that you were wearing the same pants that you’d worn three days ago. Steve figured that you didn’t have many clothes. He had the urge to take you shopping on Madison Avenue and let you go crazy. But somehow he knew you would never blow a load of cash on clothing. And that’s part of why he was so far gone on you.

He watched you battle your espresso machine with bemusement.

“Why haven’t you set up your new machine yet?”

You stopped and put your hands on your hips, looking so cute that Steve restrained himself from jumping over the counter.

“Is that from you?” You shook your head. “I suspected it.” 

Steve had unexpectedly given you many gifts, the espresso machine, a cash register. He’d even tried to have a new walk in cooler installed. You refused and sent back everything he’d sent. It wasn’t right. He barely knew you. 

You wondered what he did for a living, always dressed in the finest and able to afford multiple thousand dollar gifts. You figured that he was one of those Angel investors. Well, he wasn’t very good at being anonymous.

You watched as Steve gave you a lopsided grin, then leaned over the counter toward him. 

“Listen. Steve. Mr. Rogers.” 

You looked from his eyes, to his perfect lips, to his golden St. Christopher’s medal. He smelled so damn good. You bit your lip and Steve smiled, warmed by your proximity. This was his chance.

“Yeah, Ambrosia?”

“I’m not taking your gifts.”

You straightened up abruptly, handed him his drinks and finished his order. You gave him two folded newspapers.

“One Daily News for your friend and one News Day for you.” 

“Have you thought about it yet?”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

“About what?”

You thought he was finally going to ask you on a date. You knew the main reason he came in was to check you out. But you weren’t about to be bought.

“About the possibility of getting The Times in here? Alright, the Sunday Times at least.”

“Sorry Steve, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, I don’t order. Can’t afford a non starter. But I do subscribe to the Sunday Times myself for the crossword. You can borrow mine any time.”

You winked at him. Something about Steve brought out your inner flirt.

Steve wanted to say something about sharing the Sunday Times in bed, but he thought better of it. Any other girl, and he would have been able to spit all kinds of game. But with you, he was tongue tied.

Steve sipped his coffee and shook his head as you gave him his bag.

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

You waved at him as he stood up.

“Have a great day!”

Steve chuckled at your dismissal as he walked out of the door. Bucky was waiting by the car. Steve handed him his cup and sandwich. 

“Send Sam to pick up the espresso machine.”

“Still a tough nut, eh?”

“Yeah. She’s still refusing gifts…”

Steve got in the passenger seat while Bucky sat behind the wheel.

“Instead of giving her all of this expensive shit, why don’t you just be nice to her?Ask her out ice skating or something.”

Steve scoffed. He didn’t know how to ask a girl out anymore. He felt like that scrawny kid running around with Bucky back in the day. Now, women were always clawing at each other to get to him. And they always wanted something. 

Steve didn’t respond to Bucky, just asked about his calendar.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Buck?”

“We gotta meet with the truckers today. They don’t want to bend to our terms.” Steve put on his sunglasses. 

“We know what to do to make ‘em bend, don't we Buck?”

“Sure do, buddy.” 

You were in your walk up apartment above the store halfway listening to the 10 o’clock news. They were doing a story about an explosion at the Eatern Tri-State Trucking hub in Bay Ridge as you put your body oil on after your shower. The reporter indicated that authorities thought that the Valkyrie crime organization was behind it. You were zoning out looking forward to the next day.

You were glad that Janie and Nate would be back at work tomorrow. Nate had just taken a week off, and Janie had recovered from the flu.  You were going to take the next afternoon off. You could have taken the entire day, but you wanted to open up for some reason.

Running an organic bodega in Brooklyn was a tough job, but the business was growing, but it was even tougher when your help was not there. You deserved a bit of a break.

The next morning, you were humming an Otis Redding song when Steve came in. You looked over your shoulder and caught him looking at your ass.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

“Mornin’ Ambrosia.”

“The usual?”

Steve wanted to say no, I want to ask you to marry me, but that might be a little too forward.

“Yeah.”

He sat down at the counter and noticed that you had on something brand new. When you turned around, he gestured to your outfit.

“What’s the occasion?”

You looked down and then grinned. 

“This outfit is my Christmas present to myself. I’m taking the afternoon off and I’m going into the city to go to the Central Public Library.”

Steve tried to respect your glee. But he had to do it.

“How thrilling.”

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch, “ you quipped.

Steve laughed at you. He thought about what Bucky said the day before.

“Grinch hunh. Well, would a Grinch offer to take you ice skating instead?”

You turned around and leaned on the counter. Steve leaned toward you.

“I don’t know. Are you offering, Mr. Grinch?”

You loved teasing him. Steve groaned.

“C’mon. I’m trying here. Ambrosia. Do you want to go ice skating with me in the city this afternoon? And to dinner afterward.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Steve was very close to you now, staring at your lips.

“Yes.”

You stood up and put your hands on your hips.

“It’s about time. Sure!”

Steve laughed at how easy it was. You shoved his order into his hands.

“Pick me up at 1.”

Steve was grinning like an idiot out at the car, and didn't know how he got there.

“So you finally asked her out, hunh?”

Steve snapped out of it as he got in the passenger seat.

“Move the talks up to 10. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

“Rumlow is stalling. I can handle it this evening.”

“You sure?”

Bucky looked at his best friend.

“Sure as shootin’.”

You and Steve had a great afternoon, and Steve thought that ice skating was genius. He had to thank Bucky. You had to hold hands to stay steady, and when he pulled you in close, you didn’t pull back so you could stay warm. He didn’t know that you were thinking the same things.

Steve got to treat you to Via Carota and you two walked right in. The food was great, the wine was amazing, and you even stole a kiss in your corner booth. The night was perfect.

He drove you back to your place and you sat in the car for a minute. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and you were the one to make the first move with the kiss. You looked at him quizzicaly.

“Can I ask you something, Steve?”

“Yes, Ambrosia, anything.”

“After today, this afternoon and tonight. Do you still like me?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course. Why do you ask?”

You looked down. 

“Well, you’ve been such a gentleman. I see how you look at me, all hungry all the time. And the gifts. I don’t know. I just thought you’d be. You know. More…”

“Aggressive?” Steve responded.

“Well. yeah. I just thought.”

You looked back up and saw that Steve’s eyes had darkened.

“I am not a gentle man in my everyday life, Ambrosia. And I know that I can come on strong. But you make me want to be tender with you. I want to cherish you.”

“Oh.”

And Steve pulled you in for a sweet, but sexy kiss.

“So, yes, I still like you. And I have very aggressive thoughts about you. Want to ruin you in fact. But I want to do it carefully. Make you feel it. And make you glad you did.”

“Oh. No one has ever…damn, Steve.”

He recognized that you had been hurt.

“Here’s an aggressive question. What kind of an asshole would make you feel that way about yourself? His name is all I need.”

You laughed.

“Do you want to come up for the answer?” You cocked your head at him as he chuckled and nodded.

“Yes.”

When you got up to your place, you were settled with a glass of wine on your couch.

“I’m not going to give you his name, but I will tell you that we were together for a few months, and we only did it a few times. He’s the only one I’ve ever been with.”

The way you looked as him made Steve’s heart soft, but other things hard.

“It…It didn’t feel good. He said I was frigid and too small. I… I went to the doctor and everything. She said I was fine physically. So I figured it must have been in my mind and I haven’t been able to get out of my head after that. He broke it off and then I just decided to focus on work.”

You peered at Steve to see his reaction.

Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, then cooled.

“That joker is a fucking idiot.” 

His eyes traced your body.

“He didn’t know what to do with all this?”

Steve reached for you and kissed you, this time with undeniable passion. You broke away and stood up, offering him your hand.

“Show me, Steve.”

He stood up and followed you to your bedroom.

You stood at the foot of the bed and reached up to kiss Steve, and he picked you up and sat down, sitting you down with both of your legs over his. You made out like this, Steve’s hands still in neutral places until you whined and scooted closer to him.

Then, he went under your sweater, finding your nipple in your bra and brushing it with his thumb. He was exhibiting intense will power, but he couldn’t hold it all back as you responded to his passionate kisses.

Steve lifted your sweater off and your tank top, which was underneath, with it. Your bra contained your breasts, but your nipples were erect and straining against the material. He brought your body towards his for a kiss, his thick fingers pressing and playing with your sensitive buttons. He had you squirming on his lap as he reached around and expertly unfastened your bra.

He looked down at you and then back up, eyes hungry. You’d been yearning for that look.

“I’m gonna cherish this moment, get you ready for me, Baby. You’re gonna feel so good.”

He was weighing and kneading your breast and tenderly flicking your nipple, then he leaned down and kissed you, moving down your neck and collarbone, descending your chest and kissing all around your areolas, teasing your stiff nipples.

He had you moaning and writhing, wanting some friction for your cunt.

“Patience, Baby. You’re gonna get everything you deserve. Including this.”

Steve moved your hand to the hard member in his pants, which you tried to grip in vain through his slacks. You whimpered in frustration.

“I know. I know. I want to do so many things with you.” 

Steve’s fingers were in your leggings, through our panties and tracing your wet pussy lips gently as he finally started sucking your nipples. You pulled his hair wantonly as he teased you.

“Mmmmm. Who’s got you all wet, Ambrosia?” he asked, as he pulled his fingers out and put them in his mouth.

“Y-you, Steve… unhhhhh.”

The sight of him relishing your taste made you even wetter. And he found out, because his hand was right back down your pants. 

His lips were at your ear and he was breathing hard.

“Can I…”

His thick finger parted your lips and the rough pads of two fingers slid over your clit into your wetness. You arched your back in anticipation.

“...Can I eat you out, my sweet Ambrosia?”

His voice and the request sent you on a tailspin. You nodded vigorously as Steve pulled his hand out to your whine of desperation at the loss of contact.

You quickly stood up as Steve captured your hips to stand still in front of him. His eyes raked up and down your form as he took hold of the waistband of your pants, and slowly pulled them and your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and Steve’s hands ran back up your form as you looked down at him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs as he pulled you near him.

Steve put one knee over his shoulder and stared at your most intimate part. 

“She’s a sweet little flower. So pretty and tight.”

His fingers were parting your folds so he could see even more.

“But she will be ready for my thick cock, I know she will, Ambrosia.”

He pulled you forward and held you up as he licked through you, almost causing a near stroke as far as you could tell. 

“Mmmmmm,” Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head.  “You are so sweet. I could eat you all night.”

You almost cried as he dove back in, grabbing his hair for purchase. He grabbed your bottom and stood to place you on the bed. He kneeled on the floor and held you down and open with his huge hands.

Steve started his feast, gently licking at first, then made you build to a crescendo as he started tongue fucking you. He made sure to stimulate your nipples, and when he felt your hard little nub vibrate, he sucked your clit hard as you came.

“Was that good?”

“Oh my stars, that was good.”

You both laughed.

“You’re so fucking cute, Ambrosia, but there’s levels to this.”

You sat up and watched as  he took off his shirt. You were sure that your eyes were sparkling now.

“It’s just going to get better and better.”

He was just clad in his black boxer briefs, a huge bulge leading the charge. He reached in and you were certain that he was going to pull out an entire pack of socks, but instead, he showed you the largest, thickest dick you’d ever seen. Your eyes were like saucers. You were a little afraid, but your legs fell open out of reflex. 

“See what you do to me?”

You bit your lip and nodded, reaching out and touching it tentatively.

“I’ve never seen one that big.”

You looked up at him and his heart melted simultaneously as his cock jumped. Your trembling fingers around him made him almost bathe your hand in his spend.

“Oh, Baby.. So sweet.”

“You are too, Steve. I want to taste you.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and Steve groaned, trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Christ… I’m…I…. Whatever you want, Baby.”

You stared at his cock for what seemed like forever. Then, you tentatively reached out and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan as he palmed the back of your head.

“You’re killing me here, Ambrosia.”

“Hmmm.” You smiled. “Lay down for me, Steve.”

He did as he was told and put his arm behind his head to watch you. The way his muscles bulged inspired you anew. He reached down and roamed his fingers over your body as you hovered over him. You stroked him a couple of times and then played with his balls, Steve putty in your hands.

“B-babyyyy.”

You smiled in triumph that you had him whining as you spread your lips over the thick mushroom cap and sucked it into your mouth vigorously, causing him to moan and buck his hips up. You took the cue and drew him into your mouth, making him hit the back of your throat and gag.

“Holyyyyyy sssssshit. Stop. StopStopStopStop.”

Steve pulled you off his dick, which made you release him with a plop. He sat up and stared at you, disbelief in his eyes. 

“Did I do it wrong?”

“Did you do it wrong. Fuck, you almost made me…. C’mere.”

You giggled as you ended up with your back on the bed again, Steve eating you out, this time one finger inside you as you came. You were in shambles as he looked up at you and inserted another finger inside as his opposite thumb stroked your still-quivering clit.

“Gotta get you up to three. Hold on.”

You did, and when he crooked his fingers this time, you let out a wail that caused dogs to bark down the street.

After your fourth orgasm, Steve looked up, smiling ear to ear.

“Still want this dick?”

You scowled at him.

“If you don’t…”

He laughed as he kneeled between your legs, stroking the magnificent beast. You opened your legs even wider and stared down at it.

“No. look at me, look at me. You’re ready. I got you Baby.”

Steve supported himself with one arm as he got nearer to you and started swiping his head between your folds. You keened as he entered you.

“Ow. Steveeeee.”

Your face looked so adorable as you struggled to take him.

“Holy shit, you’re, fuck you’re so….”

Steve kissed you through your moan of shock and pleasure as he slid all the way home. You gripped his bicep, your fingernails leaving marks. Steve pecked your lips as you pounded together, waiting for you to get used to him.

“You ok? You good?”

Steve checked to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him with tears in your eyes.

“I- I- think it feels good. You’re so big, Steveee. But.. but I like it….”

You started moving, a little at first, and then more wantonly. Steve looked down to where you were impaled upon his dick.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Just so.. Fucking… tiny…. But made for me…Shit.”

You felt Steve’s cock jumping inside you when he said those words, and you clasped your hands behind his back and uttered, “More!”

And that’s when you began to get fucked. Tenderly yet filthily. It was the best Steve had ever had, trying to be gentle and knowing that he wanted to put the bed under the ground. It was such a turn on. The ragged moans that you gave him with each stroke was a gift from god, and he started cumming before he could think.

“Shit! I didn’t use a condom…Fuck. But why does that just motivate me to keep going?” 

Steve laughed into your ear as he kept stroking for dear life. He was usually so careful, knowing that most women wanted his kid. But with you he didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around him, taking the pounding he was giving you now.

“Hmmmmmm. You want me to put a baby inside you? Pump you so full of cum that you get all round and full with my seed?”

“Hnnnnghhh. Steve… I…”

“Tell me. Do you want it? You want me to get you pregnant?”

“Ohhhh shitttttttt! Steeeveeeeee!”

You detonated around him and Steve cursed, finally pulling out and jacking hard onto your stomach as three fingers on the other hand continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His pearly spend looked beautiful on your skin.

“So gorgeous. There’s time for that yet, but we gotta get you to a doctor, because I don’t want to do this too many more times. And fucking you with condoms is no longer an option.”

You were fucked out, absentmindedly playing in his cum, causing him to spurt one last rope onto your fingers. When you brought them to your mouth was when he shivered. He collapsed beside you.

“I can’t even explain how good that was.”

You just smiled at him, lips shiny with gloss that he made.

“You are an angel. A Christmas angel.”

Steve sighed as you smiled at him. He got up and went to your bathroom to clean up and get a warm towel.

“I’m hungry.”

“Anything you want, Babe. I’ll get it for you.”

You grabbed the remote and  turned on the tv, catching the tail end of the news.

“Shootout in DUMBO tonight between the Rumlow and Valkyrie crime organizations. Several high-ranking officers dead or injured, including Brock Rumlow and James Bucky Barnes. More news when we have it.”

“Steve? Bucky? What’s going on? Valkyrie?”

Steve was up and grabbing for his clothes, an inscrutable look on his face.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I gotta go.” 

He gave you a quick kiss. 

“Don’t leave. Sam will come back with some food for you and he will stay with you. Don’t open the store tomorrow.”

“But Steve!”

“No buts! I will call.”

And then Steve disappeared into the night, leaving you with so many questions.

Knock that reblog button off the block fa me. 😉

Read part two, All I Want.

[tealgoat]

Writing from @felikatze !!!

The Favor Tree. Not something uniquely Vaugardian, mind you. Plenty of powerful trees are strewn about Ka Bue as well, but this one *is* Vaugardian, and so you'd like to wish on one at least once, for completion's sake.

What to wish for, though? You can wish for Vaugarde to be saved, of course. But, in all likelihood, everyone in Dormont already has, so what will your wish even accomplish, then? The logical part of you wants to make it a test. Something simple to see whether these wishes have any merit to them.

If they don't, you'll save Vaugarde by your own strength. If they do, a little help goes a long way.

Right, something simple it shall be. A coin flip. You'll wish to win your next coin flip.

You clasp your hands together like Mirabelle does, close your eyes, and

"That's not how you wish, Madam!"

"...Siffrin?"

With quick strides, Siffrin catches up to her. Hadn't they meant to go later? Oh, in her dwadling, Isabeau already left.

Siffrin smiles with curiosity next to you, and you untangle your hands. "What'd you wish for?" they ask.

"Nothing yet. After someone so rudely interrupted me." You say it with a sarcastic tilt.

Siffrin mirrors you after a beat. He looks around. "So rude! We gotta find the culprit! Oh, maybe they're hiding up in the tree. It's pretty..."

You know what's coming.

"TREE-mendous, after all!"

Despite yourself, you snort.

"So, my brave hero, if that's not how you wish, how do you do it then?"

"Uh!" Siffrin startles. "Uh!" He bends to the ground and picks up... a leaf?

"Here!" They hold the leaf out to you. You try to grab it, but they snatch it back. "No! First, pick the leaf you like best. That best represents you."

You don't know anything about Siffrin's past. Or where they're from, at all. So if he's sharing this piece of tradition... it won't hurt to humor him.

Your knees seriously don't like bending down like that. Instead of grabbing the first leaf you see, you ponder them for a little bit. Eventually, you decide on one that's a little longer than the others, with an odd bend in its tip.

"This one." You push yourself off the ground. It is. A struggle. Siffrin offers you a hand. You take it without aknowledgement. "What next?"

Siffrin puts a hand on his chin and squints, as he does when forgetting something. What, did they forget in the middle of showing her?

No, Siffrin proceeds by instinct. They bring the leaf up to their mouth and whisper far too softly for Odile's aging ears. Then, he folds the leaf and lets it go.

It drifts on the wind, higher and higher, until it disappears into the trees.

"There. Whisper your wish into it three times, fold it, and let it go."

"I've never seen a Vaugardian do that."

Siffrin seems lost. "It's not... It's..."

You drop the subject. "Why thrice?"

"That's just... the way to do it? You can also do six and nine, I think, and seven and thirteen."

"Multiples of three and prime numbers?"

"Prime numbers?"

"Forget it. Alright."

You hold the leaf to your face, curling it to speak into. A simple, logical wish, to test the Favor Tree. That'd seems rude now, after Siffrin shared part of his culture with you.

Something better. Something... genuine. And that's the hard part, isn't it? You have a reputation to uphold. It's easier that way. Like... like you don't care how much Siffrin's eye sparkles right now, waiting with bated breath.

It'll be easier to leave them again. Bonnie will go to their sister, Isabeau to the Defenders, Mirabelle to the House, and Siffrin...

Siffrin is a traveler too, is he not? Maybe the others won't go with you, but you could show them Ka Bue. Teach them how to pray at shrines, about all the different foods you ache for, all the culture you left to find something new. Despite it all, Ka Bue was your home, and... you'd like to share it with them, if you can.

Ah, you just want to stay with them.

You fold the leaf, and it leaves on the breeze.

"Hah."

"Madame?"

"You're rubbing off on me, Siffrin."

You pat them on the shoulder. Siffrin freezes. Until your hand leaves them again.

"My apologies, Siffrin."

It's quite silly to think they'd go with you after all.

[call-memissbrightside]

Just finished watching f&f: Tokyo Drift and all I can think about it ex!racerBF Katsuki purposely following you around in his loud af car while your date walks you home. The breaks up was brutal and he didn’t want it to be over but you just couldn’t handle the illegal street racing scene anymore, you wanted to move past that but Katsuki just couldn’t leave behind his legacy of being be best racer in Tokyo.

So, he was all but cackling when he spots you wearing his favorite short skirt while walking to what he presumed to be back to your apartment, but scowls when he notices you’re not alone.

Pressing the breaks, other cars honk their annoyance but Katsuki doesn’t care.

Blowing smoke clouds, the screeching of his back tires telling you he saw you. You try to ignore him, to keep walking and move on but oh no, Katsuki just followed behind you, engine whining with every step.

You finally snap after three blocks of this nonsense.

“What do you want?!” You scream at him, and his smirk is prevalent through his rolled down window.

Your date tries to stand in between Katsuki’s car and you, pedestrians on both side of the street are now staring at the show. You ignore him, all attention on Katsuki because you just couldn’t believe the nerve this asshole had.

Katsuki doesn’t look at your date when he answers. “Get in, I’m winning a race and I want my prize to be there waiting for me at the finish line.”

“Hey man—,” Katsuki cuts off your date.

“She’s my lucky charm and I’m not leaving without her, now beat it punk.” Katsuki’s glowing glare was all that was needed to get your date to run away and you sighed in annoyance.

“Katsuki you can’t keep doing this!” You reluctantly get in the passenger seat, the seatbelt not even clicking in place before he speeds off.

“This is the third date you’ve scared off!” You continue to argue, arms folded across your chest.

Katsuki laughed, one hand on the steering wheel and the other taking its place on your thigh.

“Not my fault you go out with pussies.”

[verinarin]

The mission and how it teaches him the slight difference between protectiveness and possessiveness

(Dr. Ratio x Partner Fem! Reader)

Part One (￣^￣)ゞ - Part Three ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

This would be a trilogy so expect one more part

This is mainly spicy fluff as I like to call it (fluff with sexual tension ψ(｀∇´)ψ) The sum of this fic is… let’s watch Ratio lose his marbles over Reader gambling her life yet again !

comment what do you think about this part, it sorta motivates me lolololol (*⁰▿⁰*)

Support me on Ko-fi ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

If someone could be an embodiment of both the path of erudition and nihility it would be you, because he couldn’t fathom how a person could be so strategic yet so careless at the same time

Your eyes glimmers with vexatious enthusiasm as the dealer distributes the cards, he shouldn’t have agreed to meet with the potential client in a casino of all places

“Don’t fool yourself, think before anything else,” he leans beside your ear, trying to at least guide you to not do anything heedless

“Veritas Ratio, don’t you worry we’re not here to gamble,” you smile as you glance at your cards

He audibly sighs as he leans back, his arms folded as he see your opponent in front of you, a well known casino owner in Penacony someone so powerful that the IPC would want in their pocket

You’re tasked to invest in said casino, no matter what choices you have to make in the future, you need to report back with satisfactory results

That’s something you never cease to succeed in, doubling the profits. While he is here to assure your safety while doing so and the legality of your methods, while the casino owner over there ogles all over your body, how disgusting…

“I’m here to extend my sincerest gratitude for setting the meeting for today,” you extend your hand for a handshake towards the man seating before you, which is reciprocated but you can’t help but to feel a little bit distraught over the firm handshake

“Now now it’s not a big deal really, so what does the IPC wants from me hmm?,” the man chuckles, his eyes glaring at you, like a predator stalking its prey

Ratio took notice of this, the man exudes a strange aura that he can’t seem to pinpoint, leering at you while seemingly unaware of him currently seating beside you

“Ah a man that gets right to the point, I like that ! Ratio if you don’t mind,” with that he nods as he took a briefcase filled with a hefty amount of credits

“We’re here to invest in your casino sir, to further aid us in widening our connections and intel pool,” Ratio opens the briefcase to reveal its contents for the casino owner to see and he doesn’t seem to be interested at the slightest

You study his micro-expressions and quickly state that everything is negotiable if credits doesn’t suit his taste, he smiles before revealing his true desire

“Well now I’m a casino owner and I have plenty of investments under my name, I need no more credits in my life, but well what I do need is a beauty like you,” hearing this a gear starts to move on your head, your eyes glints underneath the yellow light

Ratio on the other hand can’t believe in such fool existing, worse yet breathing in front of him with such mediocre want, if his sharp gaze could be considered blades, then this man already have his neck severed seconds ago

“A lady like me have a high price tag y’know ?,” you let out a small snicker as you fold your arms, a sudden soreness blooms on your thigh you struggle to keep your smile as you glance down to see Ratio’s hand digging itself into your thigh

You glance up to see his expression, it’s screaming ‘foolish girl are you seriously going to do what I think you’re going to do’

You forgot that Mr. Veritas Ratio over here also has a PhD in reading you, he knows very well you’re going to gamble away your life yet again

The casino owner notice quickly of the tension between you both and so he cuts straight towards his price “I’m willing to let you invest in my casino for 40% profit if you win sweetheart, but if you lose then you’re going to stay and be my personal doll,”

Before Ratio could even open his mouth to disapprove these moronic terms, you’re quick to give your own terms

“Now now as I say before I’m quite the expensive asset, if you want me to be your pretty little doll then I’m afraid you’re going to gamble more,” you pout your soft lips at the casino owner, successfully riling up both him and Ratio at the same time

“With a cute face like that, you’re making me want to gamble my life away,” he boisterously laugh

“Then please do !, if you win you’ll have me but if you lose you’re going to sell this casino of yours and the payment would be the amount of credits that’s inside that briefcase,” you quickly reply

The man scoffs before dimming the cigarette he was smoking “What makes a pretty little thing like you so confident about winning ?,”

“Let’s just say I have a winning streak these past days, now what do you say sir ?,” well that’s true to some extent Ratio needs to applaud your constant stream of luck but that doesn’t justify whatever this is

“I love that feisty attitude of yours, so let’s gamble !,” the casino owner seemed to be riled up by your confident nature

While Ratio is currently questioning how does his life leads to being stuck in here between two gambling maniacs with questionable intellect, his cover his face back with his alabaster head, not wanting to interact with this monstrosity of a situation

“Great !, Ratio please draft us a contract immediately, I can’t wait to start,” you turn your head to the side to reveal Ratio glaring at you, with that look of disapproval emanating from his person, well you can’t see his expression but you definitely feel it, like mentally and physically feel his disappointment…

“Of course excuse us sir, while we compose a fair contract,” Ratio took off his alabaster head before excusing himself outside the private room, dragging you with him

Before you could protest however, he shoves you towards the wall and pins you in place with his arms caging you in, holding you captive for as long as he deems fit to scold you

With one of his arm on top of your head and the other holding you in place by your waist you could hear his uneven breathing pattern accompanied by his rather intoxicating scent “Did I not make myself clear earlier, think before executing your task !,” he whispers beside your ear, his tone deep and demanding

At this point you wish for him to yell at you instead as per usual because being close to him like this makes your brain melt, especially after that incident an hour ago.

‘What’s with the sexual tension !!!?!’, you silently scream as you try to come out with an excuse, but your brain has failed to do so because it’s currently overheating

He’s grown impatient with the silence you gave, he uses his hand to gently force your face to look at him, forcing you to stop ignoring him. “I-i umm if I win this gamble y’know how profitable it’ll be right ahahaha,” you nervously mumble, your sentence was a bit jumbled because of him unnecessarily squeezing your whole face

His eyes stares dead into yours before asking one more question with that deep silky smooth voice he used earlier, “What if you fail to win ?, it’ll be a tremendous lost for the IPC and you’ll be gifting away yourself in a silver platter to a fool who doesn’t deserve you, not even worth your time,”

‘ASDHDJFHKSK,’ is the inaudible sound that internally plays inside your brain as you feel his thumb caressing your bottom lip. I mean sure the IPC would suffer quite the loss for losing one of its high rank employee but not tremendous loss and what’s with the last statement?!?, you feel like Ratio is threading on a thin line between being protective and possessive

“I live by ‘audaces fortuna iuvat’ and I’ll stick with it till the rest of my life Ratio, so please believe in my ability to win or at least try to be supportive of me,” you sternly reply

There it is, the fiery passion reflecting in your eyes that he oddly founds to be attractive

Well this whole ordeal goes against his way to conduct negotiations and he doesn’t like to admit that the stakes are pretty tolerable considering the reward. As much as he hates to admit it, you do have an unparalleled ability to gamble your way out of situations; scarily reminds him of a peculiar person back at the office

“It seems that you’re certain with your decision, once I draft this contract and send it to headquarters there’s no turning back and I can’t assist you in anyway,” he sighs as he puts both of his hand on your shoulder, insinuating the high pressure of this gamble

You already feel the pressure by his mere presence, but you won’t back down not when you already manage to lure that casino owner into a shitty gamble

“Draft the contract, I assure you by the end of this I’ll be taking the Casino’s land certificate,” you smile, with that he can’t help but to take a deep breath and sigh, that’s it there’s no going back now

“You can’t afford to lose, this is your freedom we’re talking about and you’re not a damn trophy he could flaunt,” he huffs as he now retracts his hands away

“Relax, if I don’t know you any better I might mistake this as you feeling a little bit too possessive over me,” you jokingly punch his arm

However his reply is no joke at all “Maybe I am, who knows it’s open to interpretation, but do note that I can’t afford to lose you too,”

“W-what for what possible reason?!?,” this man has a tendency to really keep you on your edge doesn’t he ?

“I have my own reasons and agenda, that I will not disclose at least not when you’re gambling your freedom away,” he sighs as he massage his temples

“Fine have it your way mister I’m soo morally ambiguous!,” you huff as you walk back towards the door, however he grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards his embrace,

“May fortune bless the bold,” he mumbles against the crown of your hair, his arm loops around your shoulder as, holding you close against his chest as he inhales your calming scent for the last time, you took this weirdly affectionate Ratio as a good sign of luck !

Since he usually hit your head with that ridiculously heavy codex instead-

“Stop worrying about this, you know that the chances of me winning is higher than that guy !,” you mutter against his broad chest before pushing him away and turn your heels toward the door

With a huge smile on your face you open the door to reveal decks of cards and poker chips waiting for you “Let’s gamble shall we ?,”

[liillyliilly]

Her Laughter

tsukishima kei x reader words; 9093 synopsis; They had been friends for too long. She knew too much. He knew too little.

Tsukishima was used to the attention he got from girls. It came with having an aura that practically screamed unattainable. It lured in confident women that thought they could break down his façade of seriousness. So, if he was feeling up to it, he would mess with them. Toy with their feelings before dropping them and picking up a new little game to play.

This annoyed the living hell out of y/n. Which pushed Tsukishima to continue what he did. It seemed like he got a nice rise out of seeing how pissed he could make y/n. Seeing as they were seatmates, it felt as if she was constantly trapped and suffocated by every new girl that tried to win his affections.

The pair even had to spend a large portion of their time with each other outside of school. Having her mom being extremely close friends with Mrs. Tsukishima sure messed up a large portion of the girl’s life. Yet, there was one Tsukishima family member that actually seemed to be a normal person. Akiteru. Akiteru was probably the longest crush that y/n had ever had. From the beginning of her first year at Karasuno High School, which was Akiteru’s third year, to currently as a third year practically infatuated with a university second year. But for some reason, her crush felt hollow. But she didn’t mind it so long as she still was happy when Akiteru was nice to her.

Tsukishima wasn’t oblivious to the way y/n acted around his brother, not by any means. If anything, Tsukishima was always aware of how y/n acted and felt. Whether she was happy, sad, or yes, even trying to flirt with his own brother.

“Wow! That’s so cool! But that sounds like an awful lot of work.” Y/n currently was resting her head in her hands as she pressed her elbows against the kitchen counter top, watching Akiteru making some stovetop ramen for dinner.

“No rest for the wicked huh?” Akiteru stirred the pot of noodles. His joking words causing y/n to laugh. Tsukishima was in a mood, sitting on the couch scrolling through the movie catalog. His ears finely tuned to the conversation happening nearly seven feet away from him. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, biting down any words that threatened to bubble up from his throat.

He was the one that wanted to make y/n laugh like that, like she was lovesick and drunk on her own delight. He had managed to do that three times.

The first time was a long time ago, when they were both around eight years old.

“Kei, Kei, Kei, Ke-” Y/n was poking Tsukishima in the leg with a stick that she had found on the hike their families currently were walking on. The parents and Akiteru were walking far behind the two young kids, talking about, ‘grown up stuff’.

“What!?” He pulled off his headphones, and made a big show of turning off the music on his hand-me-down iPod from Akiteru. He actually didn’t have any music playing, and was using his headphones as a way to listen to y/n ramble about the pets she wanted to own when she got older.

“I was just wondering if you were planning on adopting a dinosaur when you get older.” Y/n kicked a rock and it fell down the cliff, bumping into a few trees, causing y/n to shudder as she imagined what would happen if she fell down from this height.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Tsukishima folded his arms, and turned his chin up.

“But aren’t all the dinosaurs’ dead?” Y/n dropped her stick, and opted for poking him in the chest with her pointer finger.

“When I become an archeologist, I’ll have Akiteru build me a machine to revive its bones. Then I’ll adopt it. Simple as that, stupid.”

“Stupid is a bad word Kei.”

“I don’t care.” Tsukishima had lightly pushed y/n on her shoulder. When she let out a scream, he knew that he messed shit up. He was sure that if he had known the word shit as an eight-year-old, he would have used it in this situation.

In one fluid motion, Tsukishima quickly grasped onto y/n’s hand and pulled her away from the edge and into his chest. When Y/n had started laughing, that same laugh that Tsukishima swore followed him in his dreams, Tsukishima raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why are you laughing? You could have died y/n!” Tsukishima was still holding y/n close to him. He knew that she could probably hear his beating heart that was threatening to break his ribcage open.

“I’m laughing because you care about me Kei.” Y/n rubbed his head, effectively messing up his hair and messing up his composure. Tsukishima’s ears were red, and he was embarrassed but he was still refusing to let go of y/n, afraid that if he stopped hugging her, she would actually fall off of the cliff. And that he would lose her. As an eight-year-old, he silently promised himself that he would never, ever, lose her.

Akiteru set down the three bowls of ramen on the coffee table. He settled in on the left side of the couch. Tsukishima moved over from the right side so that he was in the middle, forcing y/n to sit on the right side, closer to him and away from Akiteru. Tsukishima prayed that his shuffling of the seating arrangement wasn’t scrutinized. When y/n opened her mouth, Tsukishima explained.

“You got the middle seat last week. It’s the best seat to watch movies. It's my turn.” Tsukishima laid back against the couch. Chewing on a bite of the noodles. Even though he was trying to outdo his brother for y/n’s attention, Tsukishima admitted that his brother made some killer ramen.

Y/n rolled her eyes and sipped on the noodle broth. When Tsukishima did the same his glasses fogged up from the heat that radiated from the soup. Akiteru's phone beeped, and when he opened and read the text he grimaced and let out a grumble.

“Sorry, I’ll have to reschedule movie night. Something came up at work. Manager needs me to cover for a flaky employee.” When Y/n shrugged, and stood up, Akiteru’s words rushed out. “No! I mean, no, L/n you should just stay. I mean, I know you were waiting all week to watch this movie, I would just hate to prolong your waiting.”

“No, it’s fine I can wait.” Y/n smiles as she reaches for her bag.

“I insist. Please, I need someone to watch Kei. I’m asking you, l/n, to please help me out here and just watch the movie.” Akiteru took her bag away and ran into the kitchen, setting the bag above the cabinets. Far from y/n’s reach. Only Tsukishima or Akiteru could reach up there. Y/n gasped and hit Akiteru in his arm.

“Akiteru!”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Gotta go! Bye Kei! Have a goodnight!” Akiteru rushed out of the door and shut it with a light slam.

“Honestly, L/n, Akiteru paid for the movie. Just swallow your pride and watch it with me.” Tsukishima explained from his spot.

“Fine. I just have to use the bathroom real quick, and then we can watch it.” Y/n’s feet lightly pattered against the floor. Tsukishima let out a breath, putting a hand to his chest, sliding down the couch to slump in exhaustion. His phone buzzed, and as he read the message, he truly didn’t know if he wanted to punch or hug his brother.

Have fun, relax, and be polite to L/n. I think it's weird how Karasuno’s biggest playboy is a complete idiot when it comes to real feelings :0

The second time Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fourteen.

Y/n was sitting at the white clothed table, wearing the pink lacy dress her parents had picked out for her to wear at the wedding. They picked out pink lace because it matched with the bowtie Tsukishima’s parents had bought him. The wedding was for Y/n’s parents' cousin-in-law’s step-sibling's aunt. Playing with the fabric of his tie, Tsukishima continuously tried peaking glances at y/n. Her hair was done in a way that made him feel like he was on cloud nine. Her features looked unamused and bored, she seemed to be passing the time by seeing how slowly she could drink her glass of cranberry juice.

After the ceremony, and after the first dance, was when the boredom hit Tsukishima as well. Tsukishima had given up on trying to be discreet and decided to keep staring at y/n. Tsukishima followed her eyeline, to realize she was staring at the glass of champagne the newly wed wife was holding.

At this point in his life, Tsukishima had very poor impulse control. And his hormones were raging, or at least that’s what his mom said to him when he told her that he felt all fuzzy whenever Y/n hung out with him. Thinking, that if he managed to steal a bottle and share it with Y/n, then she would finally admit to having a crush on him, or something.

“Psst. Hey, Y/n.” Tsukishima kicked her chair lightly.

“What do you need Tsukki?” When Y/n turned around in her chair and faced him, he swallowed roughly and grabbed her hand pulling her up and into the chapel.

“Tsukki? What are you doing?” Tsukishima sat down in one of the pews, Y/n sitting down right next to him.

“Waiting for you to thank me profusely.” Tsukishima gave a smirk and wiggled his head in a teasing manner.

“Why would I be than-” Tsukishima pulled out the bottle of red wine he managed to snag from the kitchens. Y/n jaw dropped as she held the cold bottle in her hands.

“How did you...” She trailed off.

“I have my ways.” He shrugged as he snagged the bottle away and twisted the cap off. Taking a swig from the bottle, he puckered his lips together at the tart taste. His throat felt dry and scratchy. The drink made his mouth feel grainy.

“It can't be that bad, you big baby.” Y/n took it from him and took an equally large drink. When she coughed and hit her chest a few times, Tsukishima laughed, holding his stomach from how it was constricting due to his laughing.

They threw away the bottle by dumping the rest of the alcohol down the sink of the church bathroom. As they sat with their backs to the door, the dizziness of being drunk for the first time hit them both with a heavy wave.

“Y/n. I reaaalllyyy like you. I like you soooo much. It’s like my heart can’t even handle it.” He hiccupped. He rested his head in her lap, y/n twirled his blonde locks.

“Is that so?”

“Yuppers.”

Y/n laughed, slowly and quietly at first. Growing into a loud rumble that caused Tsukishima to feel like he could die right then and feel totally complete.

“Kei, we are so getting grounded.” Y/n rubbed her eyes, before her hand retreated back into his hair.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t called me Kei since we were twelve and it's really hurting my feelings.” Tsukishima admitted.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll try calling you Kei more then.”

She didn’t even try to call him Kei. From age fourteen to now, it was only Tsukishima or in rare cases of friendly compassion a short and sweet Tsukki. When Tsukishima admitted that it hurt his feelings, he was being honest, and it still rang true.

Tsukishima was staring at the TV much harder than needed. He tried not to pay attention to all the little things Y/n was doing. The way she was breathing, and how it would hitch when the movie got intense, or how it would come out in a longing sigh during the romantic parts. The way she shifted her feet under her and how the couch would dip and move from her toes moving around in her socks. When the credits started to roll, y/n was snoring quietly, resting her head on the armchair hugging herself loosely.

Tsukishima wanted to kiss her.

Wanted to feel the way her soft looking lips would feel against his probably slightly chapped ones. He wanted her to put both of her hands on his head curling her fingers through his hair. Wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and never let go like when he was eight and had fallen in love. Wanted to giggle and be stupid with her like when they were fourteen and he admitted his feelings for her but she didn’t even notice because she was so far gone from the wine. Wanted to be close to her. Wanted to stop entertaining all the girls that filtered through his life like her current favorite song that changed every day.

Tsukishima wanted to stop being so dry witted and mean to her in class. He wanted to stop her from looking at him with her sad eyes when she tried comforting the last girl he had been talking to and then ghosted. He wanted to curl up in his bed and cry. He was tired, so tired of having to make her annoyed at him, but that was the only way to get her attention. He wanted her attention like he needed to breathe. Like she needed to be kind to others. Like Akiteru needed to be supportive and an example. Like everyone on his volleyball team needed to always try their best during games.

The third time that Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fifteen.

Class was slow. The windows were clouded and the corners fogged up every time someone exhaled. Outside, heavy rain was falling. Most kids had decided to skip school for the day in favor of staying comfortable in their pajamas' watching cartoons or doing homework for other missed classes. Yamaguchi was at home, he had texted Tsukishima saying that he should just come hang out with him, but Tsukishima had already received a text from his mom that he needed to walk home with Y/n because her family hadn’t bought any umbrellas and she would need to walk home with him.

Class was over and Y/n was frowning. The day was dreary because she couldn’t just sit outside and feel alive with the rain falling down her face. She loved the rain, and being stuck inside on such a perfect day for her was getting on her nerves. But also, the fact that she had to walk home with Tsukishima, who had been a real pain in the ass all week with his current girl. Tsukishima leaned against the lockers by the entrance as Y/n switched out of her school shoes into her normal flats.

“We’re gonna be late if you keep taking forever.”

“Late for what?”

“Late for me to care about you getting home dry any longer.” Tsukishima opened the umbrella and started making his way outside.

“Tsukishima!” Y/n groaned as she rushed to close her locker and match pace with the giant.

“Geez. You could have at the very least waited a minute longer.” She tugged her hood over her head.

Tsukishima stayed silent for most of the walk. When Y/n finally broke.

“If you aren't going to even try and make conversation, then just go ahead. I like the rain anyway.” Y/n folded her arms and huffed. She stopped walking and stood still. Tsukishima walked a bit further, just enough for Y/n to not be under the umbrella. When he noticed that she wasn’t next to his side, he stopped and went back for her, holding the umbrella over both of them as he faced her.

“I don’t have time for a Y/n tantrum. Let’s go.” He flatlined.

“And I don’t have time for a brooding Tsukishima.” Tsukishima felt his heartstrings pulling him closer to her. But he kept his distance.

“What’s up?”

“What?” Y/n shook her head, and tilted it at an angle that made Tsukishima want to put his hand on her cheek and run his thumb across her cheek.

“I'm not brooding right now. I’m talking to you right now. So, let's try again. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just wondering why, a close family friend of mine is acting like an asshole to all the girl’s in our grade.” Y/n stuffed her hands in her pockets. Bouncing back and forth on the heels of her feet.

Tsukishima held back a smirk. She was playing a game with him. “Maybe they're just acting like that because it’s a nice way to pass the time?”

“I don’t think it's that.” She took a step forward.

“Oh, its most likely that.” He took a step forward. He could see the white mist of her exhaled breath. He could see the slight repressed intrigue and curiosity swirl in her eyes. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat. He wanted to grab her hand and press it against his chest and yell at her, telling her that she was the one making his head spin and making his knees feel like they would give out any second because they felt like jelly.

“Wanna know another way to pass the time?” She reached out for his hand. He froze, closing his eyes. Her next words were whispered close to his ear. “Having you chase me in the rain.”

She ripped the umbrella from his hand and ran. It took him a second to catch on. But when he did, he bolted forward. When she looked back, she screamed because he was closer than expected. And then she started laughing. The same laugh he had been longing to hear for over a year since the wine incident.

Suddenly, everything they were angry with each other disappeared. Y/n stopped thinking about how much of a dick he was to people. Tsukishima stopped thinking about how much of a scaredy-cat he was for not just being kind to Y/n. They were just two teenagers running in the rain. Hair getting soaked and sticking to their faces. Feet slipping slightly against the wet concrete. The rain hitting the ground.

They were just two kids in love with life.

They never talked about that day. They just knew it existed in their memories of each other, being stored in the filing cabinets of their life.

As Y/n was snuggled up against the couch, Tsukishima wanted to just hold her. The TV screen had gone black. The only light was the dim hanging light in the middle of the kitchen. And for the first time in a while, Tsukishima was okay with the amount of attention he got from Y/n. He didn’t want any more or any less. He was just glad that he had her in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would finally be able to tell her that he no longer liked her. But he loved her.

Movie night still seemed to be the only thing on Tsukishima’s mind. Various scenarios of different endings to the scene played in his mind. His favorite being the one where y/n took the first move and admitted that her crush on Akiteru was just a front so that Tsukishima didn���t realize that she liked him back. Sadly, her crush was still very much real, and very much an annoyance to Tsukishima. Which resulted in him being extra responsive to the countless girls who approached him to admit their affections.

He liked to mess around with the idea that they were y/n. He would try to find a similar trait, a similar physical feature, a similar anything to y/n. So that even for just a minute, he could have her attention. Whenever Yamaguchi was absent to class, Tsukishima would just sit in his own seat and wear his headphones. One hand would be toying with the wires connected to either speaker, while his other hand would rest on the very edge of his desk.

It was a smart move on his part. Because then, he could listen to the conversations y/n had with her classmates and yet seem like he was completely ignorant to anything happening on her side of the connected desks. He felt guilty about eavesdropping as often as he did, but he tried to reason his actions with empty excuses.

“L/n, you always talk about how annoying Tsukishima is, so why don’t you just ask our teacher to just move your seat?” Some girl who had previously confessed to Tsukishima in private complained to y/n. Tsukishima could tell that y/n was uncomfortable, when the girl had come up to her and started ranting y/n only let out forced laughs and dry responses.

“Well, I guess you could say that even though everything he does makes him seem like a huge jerk, he is still my friend.” Y/n spoke. Now, in any other case Tsukishima would have felt like he was being stabbed in his heart when y/n called him her friend. But in this situation, he felt relieved. She was defending him, even if it seemed like a half-assed response to the girl’s thinly veiled insult.

That was what played in his mind during volleyball practice.

“Tsukki! Hey! Tsukki!” Yamaguchi made his way to Tsukishima, a small blue towel on the back of his neck to catch the sweat from all the physical activity. Yamaguchi pulled his hair out of the small ponytail, and ran his hand through it.

“Yes?” Tsukishima started to unwrap the bandages from his fingers, dropping the fabric into his duffel bag that laid below.

“You’re close with that L/n girl, right?” Tsukishima felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

“Our parents are close, so by association, I guess we’re fairly close.”

Tsukishima wanted to go on a rant about how long he had been invested in his friendship with her. How she always managed to make his day even when they were fighting. How she would spend countless hours wasting her time watching TV on his family’s couch while he sat in his bedroom listening to her scream at the television shows for having incompetent characters. How she had tried to braid his hair once before a match but realized his hair was too short and then settled for putting it into a ponytail that ended up looking like an antenna on top of his head, when she pointed it out, she howled like a hyena. He wanted to say all of those things and more, but didn’t.

“Okay cool, because, well Yachi was wondering if she could go along with us to next month’s training camp. Yachi doesn’t want to be the only girl on the bus, and would like L/n to come along because she thinks she could handle the manager responsibilities well. And she wouldn’t admit it, but I'm sure Yachi would like to be L/n’s friend but is too scared to ask her.” Yamaguchi took a deep breath from his long explanation.

“I can ask.”

“Amazing. Cool, thanks so much Tsukki!” Yamaguchi waved goodbye as Tsukishima pulled his duffel bag onto his shoulder and made his way from practice back home.

At home, Tsukishima was greeted with two very different sights.

Y/n sitting in the kitchen, spinning around on the chair next to the counter. She was chewing on her pen, looking at a packet opened up to the middle. She had changed out of her school uniform in favor of some pajamas. It was one of Tsukishima’s old t-shirts that he had gifted to her as a gag gift for some Christmas that had gone as fast as it had come. She was wearing a pair of Akiteru’s old volleyball practice shorts, the ones that had holes on the thighs from all the times Akiteru had practiced receiving but ended up sliding across the gym floor. This was a pleasant sight, causing his dopamine levels to rise exponentially.

The second sight was Akiteru with a girl sitting in his lap. She was talking into his ear and playing with the hair on his nape. Akiteru looked, for some reason, really happy that this girl was there with him. Then Tsukishima thought about it for a moment, and realized that he would probably feel and look just as happy as Akiteru if it was Y/n sitting in his lap basking in his presence. This was an enviable sight, he wanted to be Akiteru and he wanted Y/n to be the girl. He had several questions as to why Y/n was at the Tsukishima household, and why Akiteru was with some strange girl.

“Oh hey, Tsukishima.” Y/n whispered. Waving him over. This was odd only in the way that it felt like Tsukishima was out of place. Like a spoon with a bunch of forks. Like a glass of apple juice amongst water. Like a boy with no idea what was happening in his own house.

“Wanna make a guess about whose parents decided it would be a good idea to take a two month-long trip? I’ll give you a big clue. The parents of the two blonde boys and the one h/c haired girl.”

“What...” Tsukishima, was for once, at a loss for a sarcastic comeback.

“Yup. My parents packed all my stuff up and left it in your guest room, they freaking took my house key and locked me out of my own house. Something about, ‘Letting you stay home alone when there are two perfectly great boys to make sure you stay out of trouble right there.’ It’s bullshit. But hey, I guess we both have to deal with our crazy parents.” Y/n’s mouth kept moving, but Tsukishima blocked her words out. He had to be going insane. He had to be going insane. This was not something that happened in real life.

Tsukishima dropped his duffel bag on the floor and went upstairs. Shutting his door with a slight slam. He sat on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. The glow in the dark dinosaurs that y/n had bought him for his eleventh birthday still stuck on. He wanted to take them off but just couldn’t do that because it would mean losing a part of y/n that lived in his room. When his phone buzzed, it was like breaking out of a trance.

Look Kei, I dont want to be in this situation either, but pls just be around me bc I dont think I can handle the weird smacking sounds coming from Akiteru and his girlfriend.

Did she mean to type Kei instead of Tsukishima? Was it a fluke? Before he had time to respond, his door opened and shut quickly.

“Geez, I thought I was going to be suffocated by the smell of their cologne and perfume. And why is your brother such a loud kisser? Does he have a vendetta against romance?” She moved around in his room like she had it memorized. Sitting down in his desk chair and resting her elbows on her knees. Her legs dangled slightly seeing as his chair was set to the tallest setting.

When Tsukishima finally made eye contact, he noticed the tears that had begun to create a sheen over her eyes. He looked away quickly and spoke.

“I assume he does have a vendetta against romance.” Y/n forced out a curt laugh. The tension in Tsukishima’s room was somewhat thick.

There were three times that Y/n had been in his room. The first time was when they were barely six years old.

“Why is your room the way it is?” Y/n tilted her head around, looking at everything with her big doe eyes. Akiteru was sitting on Tsukishima’s bed listening to music on his iPod, seeing as Tsukishima’s parents wanted him to hang out with Y/n and Tsukishima.

“Because it is.”

“That’s not much of an answer though Kei-Kei.” Y/n poked at a few of his dinosaur figurines.

“Stop calling me that.” Tsukishima stood up and fixed the arrangement of his toys before dragging Y/n down to the floor so that she wouldn’t keep messing with his stuff.

“Kei-Kei?” Y/n offered. Laying on her back, she extended out all of her limbs to mimic a starfish.

“Stop.”

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n sat back up and leaned forward, facing him.

“I said to stop!” He put his hands on her shoulders and put his face up close to her own.

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n mocked, moving her head from one side to the other for each syllable of the nickname. Tsukishima took his hands off her shoulders and pouted. At the same time, Akiteru got off the bed and tried walking out of Tsukishima’s room. But he tripped and accidentally bumped into Tsukishima.

Akiteru gasped.

Tsukishima and Y/n’s lips were touching. Akiteru ran out of the room with his eyes blown out wide. Tsukishima stayed still; y/n’s lips were sticky from her Chapstick and the feeling of resting his lips against hers was nice. Y/n immediately retreated her head away from Tsukishima’s. She looked wildly distraught. And in one instant she had begun to bawl. Tsukishima panicked.

“What's wrong?!”

“I didn’t want you to be my first kiss!” She said with tears streaming down her face, she kept trying to wipe them off but it began to irritate her skin and make her cheeks and eyes turn red.

“Hold on, I can fix it!” Tsukishima stood up and began searching his desk drawers. Pulling out the drawers rapidly, he stuck his hands in each of them feeling around. When he finally found what he was looking for he went back to Y/n and crouched down next to her.

“You should rub the eraser against your lips, and then it'll be like it never happened!” Y/n did as was suggested, once she felt satisfied with the erasing, she sighed.

“Good save there Kei-Kei.” She was still sniffling but had long since stopped crying. When she offered the eraser to him, he put it back into his drawer. “Aren’t you going to get rid of the kiss?” She questioned, again rubbing her eyes to get rid of the remaining wet spots on her cheeks.

“I don’t think I want to.”

The tension in the room snapped. Like when two people were tugging on two opposite ends of a rope, and the middle begins to slowly fray, and then as they kept tugging it to be more on their side, the rope rips in the middle and both people fall down due to the gravity of having the only thing keeping them upright breaking. Y/n put her head in her hands and her shoulders begin to shake. Slowly at first, like the fraying of the rope. Then faster, and her breath was reduced to sharp inhales, the ripping in the middle. And then finally heavy exhales combined with tears falling, the snap.

Just like when they were six years old, Tsukishima jumped up and tried to fix it. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, her head on his chest. The flames in his chest rise, the palpitating pain starting in his chest spreads out until every inch of his body is absorbed in excruciating pain. It didn’t hurt, it just ached. He wanted so badly to block out everything that was hurting her at the moment. But he knew that anything he would try to say would just come out sounding cruel in the moment.

She cried herself to sleep. Tsukishima was still holding her against his chest when he could hear the sniffles subside and become replaced with slow and balanced breathing. He stayed like that for a minute longer than needed. When he picked her up, carefully cradling her head and went to the guest room. Her stuff was indeed in the room, she had unpacked some of her school stuff as it was strewn across the desk. He laid her on the bed. Her body naturally cuddles up to one of the pillows. Tsukishima pulled the blanket hanging on the reading chair in the corner of the room and set it on y/n’s sleeping figure.

He stayed in the room for longer than would have been deemed appropriate. But his excuse was that he wanted to make sure she was still breathing. Her inhales and exhales are even and stable, not like the sharpness of when she was crying and choking on not having enough air get to her lungs. When Tsukishima walked out of her room, he shut the door as softly as possible.

He had two things to do.

Make sure y/n was okay.

Which was completed successfully.

The other thing was to beat Akiteru up.

“Bye! See you tomorrow then? Saturday at two! Love you!” Akiteru let out a love-struck sigh, resting his back against the front door.

“What is wrong with you?” Tsukishima said and though his words were aggressive, they came out calmly. But yet, each word seems to prick and scratch at Akiteru.

“Excuse me?” Akiteru’s mood dropped, and it was obvious.

“You really messed things up. Why the hell did you have to bring a girl over, when you knew that Y/n would be here. You do know that she is practically in love with you right?”

Akiteru’s mouth moved like a fish. It was moving but no words were coming out. Tsukishima’s next words were sarcastic and dripping with a jealous venom. “Perfect Akiteru, older brother extraordinaire, the best role model.”

“Kei.” Akiteru rubbed his temple, and walked towards Tsukishima.

“Don't call me that.” Tsukishima took a step back. Away from his brother, no scratch that, away from the man who made the love of his life hurt.

“But it's your name?” Akiteru reasoned. He didn’t try to take a step forward.

“I don’t want you tainting the way I've heard it said. You don’t get to say my name anymore. Not after you made y/n cry. She cried so hard I thought she was going to accidently hurt herself from how she was breathing.” Tsukishima’s glasses were fogging up, his fists clenched. But his voice stayed the same, calm and powerful. He was making sure his voice didn’t crack in front of Akiteru.

“She told me she had a crush on...” Akiteru was cut off when Tsukishima heard his words.

“So why did you have to go and be such an asshole?” Tsukishima’s voice cracked, but he kept his stance.

“I wasn’t being an asshole Kei.” Akiteru explained.

“Don't call me that.”

“Fine. But you do realize that I can't stop my life just for y/n, right? It isn’t going to always be about what she wants?” Akiteru tried to reason.

“It is for me! It's always going to be about her. It always has been.” That’s when the tears started to fall. They blinded him.

“Then why don’t you let her know that? Because it honestly doesn’t seem like you care about her when you toy around with a new girl every week.” Akiteru was done giving his words a soft touch, these words were hard hitting and so true that it made Tsukishima want to puke.

“Because that’s the only way to get her to pay attention to me! Don’t you see?” Tsukishima stood back up. “The only way to get her attention is for me to show her that I'm wanted by other girls.”

“That’s not how it is and you know it.” Akiteru pushed past Tsukishima and walked upstairs to his room. Leaving Tsukishima to stand alone in the hallway.

As the sun peeked over the rim of the world, people awoke and rose from their death-like slumber. Tsukishima had fallen asleep as soon as he put his head on his pillow. When he woke up, he looked at his phone and realized that Yamaguchi had called him over ten times and his messages were all about Y/n.

(TSUKKI) (Did you ask her yet?) (Ask her pls) (Ask her!!!!) (Yachi is on my tail rn pls ask and get an answer) (Oh r u in one of your moods about her rn?) (Did you try and be all romantic and shit and it didn’t turn out the way u wanted) (Lol jk) (I know u wouldn’t do that) (But yeah, just ask her’)(thankzzzzz)

When Tsukishima put on his glasses, he was about to type in a reply, when there were seven knocks on his door. Y/n. His answer came out before he could realize he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Come on in!” When Y/n opened the door, she had two plates of food balanced on her hands and her hair was slightly damp.

“Oh.....hey, I brought food. But if you want, I can just leave it here....” Y/n trailed off.

“No! I mean, no, you can stay. I’ll put on a shirt.”

Tsukishima stood up and went over to his closet and slipped on a shirt, then he went back and sat on his bed. Y/n was sitting crossed legged in his beanbag and chewing on some of the strawberries on her plate. Tsukishima did the same, crossing his legs and eating the fruit.

“I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown. I shouldn't be getting emotional over nothing.” Y/n toyed with a piece of her hair, looking down at her plate. When she saw Akiteru kissing the girl, she wasn’t jealous. She imagined that it was her and Tsukishima. She tried blinking repeatedly to get the image out of her head. But it stuck. And she realized. She should have realized sooner.

“Yamaguchi was wondering if you would come along for the volleyball training camp next month?” Tsukishima said. When he realized what he did, he honestly wanted to slap himself in the face. He completely ignored what Y/n was trying to say, and he felt embarrassed.

Y/n raised her eyebrows in shock, but then gave a shy smile. “Sure, it’s not like I’ll be doing anything else.” Tsukishima swallowed thickly, and nodded.

The second time Y/n was in his room was when they were ten years old.

Tsukishima hated when his parents held dinner parties, and he still does. But because of his slowly growing crush on Y/n he seemed more willing to help out with the party. When the Tsukishimas’ lined up by the front door, wearing their best dress, welcoming the guests with a curt bow, Tsukishima thought he would drown from all the people invading his space. Seeing Y/n hop inside his house was a refreshing breath of air.

How was he supposed to focus on what his mom was trying to say about the steak when Y/n was sitting right there. Right next to him, and being so perfect that he thought he would just burst from pure happiness. Y/n had been on a vacation for most of summer, so he hadn’t seen her for a long time.

She had gotten taller, but so had he. She had gotten prettier, and he still felt like he had a baby face. She had gotten more polite and was able to find the ample time to give her opinion during the conversation between the grownups, while he still struggled to refrain from making snarky comments about the lives of his parents' friends.

So, he thought he was dreaming when Y/n made eye contact and moved her eyes to look over at the stairs when the adults brought out the alcohol. Swiftly, they made their escape to his room. Tsukishima was glad that his parents had forced him to clean his room before the party.

“Kei, I thought I was going to just die from all the talking about taxes.”

“But, Y/n, you seemed to be so good at finding exactly what to say. Like, all the time.”

Tsukishima stood in the middle of his room, shuffling his feet awkwardly as Y/n held her hands behind her back and pursed her lips together as she looked around his room.

“I guess. But it's pretty stupid that adults don’t talk about cool things anymore.” Y/n heard her name being called from downstairs. “Kei, promise that even when we are old and wrinkly and gross, that we won’t have nothing to talk about?” Y/n held out her hand, and Tsukishima gripped it tight as they shook seven times.

“Okay, now that you promised Kei, you can't ever break it okay?”

“I know.” Tsukishima smiled as he waved goodbye to Y/n as she exited his room.

His promise echoed in his brain as a month passed with Y/n living in his house. Conversations were kept to a minimum, as they each worked on homework separately. Tsukishima, though, often got flustered when he saw her bras hanging up on the drying rack in the laundry room. Other than seeing bras, or an occasional pair of underwear, he was sure that he could make it the month without being forced into any awkward situations. Weekly movie night was practically the same, except for the addition of Akiteru’s girlfriend. But, halfway through each of the movies the couple would start kissing and it would disturb Tsukishima and Y/n, who then retreated to their own rooms.

When Tsukishima woke up to his alarm at around five thirty in the morning, he laid in his bed for a while just staring at the glow in the dark dinosaurs. He could hear Y/n shuffling downstairs with her suitcase, and he looked over to his own suitcase. For a while he pretended that this was normal. To have the girl that he had been in love with since he was six-year-old living in his house. When he went downstairs, Y/n was yawning and looking through her backpack to make sure that she had everything for the week long training camp. His last training camp as a high schooler. He was a third year now. So was Y/n. But it hadn’t quite hit him until he was at the school with everyone waiting to get onto the bus.

“Since you are all Karasuno Volleyball members, I thought it would be a fun idea to pair you up for the bus ride, and for any activities that we have planned while we are down in Tokyo. While this is still training camp, we want this to be memorable. Especially for our intermittent manager, L/n.” Coach Ukai stated dully, as if he was reading off cue cards written by Takada which he was indeed doing.

“-And finally, we have Tsukishima and L/n as our last pair. Okay get your asses on the bus, I’m too tired for this right now.”

Getting onto the bus last, Tsukishima took both his and Y/n’s suitcases and put them on the overhead carrier. Y/n seemed stunned by the action then just shook her head and slipped into the row, sitting in the window seat. Tsukishima hardly got any sleep during the night and was on the verge of falling asleep. Nodding his head before flinching and lifting his head back up. There was a seat in-between Tsukishima and Y/n, where they set their backpacks down. Tsukishima leaned his head back onto the seat, but after about ten minutes his neck started to hurt. So, he just let out a low groan of agitation.

Whilst Tsukishima was going through his mini freak out trying to be comfortable enough to sleep, he didn’t notice as Y/n grabbed the bags and set them down by her feet. Clearing her throat, Tsukishima looked over to her with furrowed eyebrows and a sour face.

“Kei,” Tsukishima felt his heart jump into his throat. “C’mere.” Y/n reached over and pulled his head down, after he was resisting for a few seconds, Y/n clarified.

“Rest your head in my lap, you clearly didn’t get any sleep last night. I’ll play with your hair like when we were younger.” Tsukishima wanted to refuse; he really did. But she was saying everything in the same gentle tone that she reserved for first years or the animals she came across. Once her hand went to his fringe, he was putty.

“Only because I'm tired.” He explained as he rested his head on her lap.

“Whatever you say, Kei.”

In almost no time, Tsukishima fell asleep. But instead of a dream, it was a memory. The memory of the third time Y/n went into his room.

They were sixteen and stupid. He had another layer though, he was sixteen, stupid, and mean. Second year had been a bitch so far. Tsukishima hadn’t even got seated in the same row as Y/n. Instead, she got seated next to some flirt on the basketball team. Now, there weren’t people taller than Tsukishima typically, but over the summer Ito Yuuta grew five inches and was two inches taller than Tsukishima.

Tsukishima didn’t want to accept the fact that Y/n was just being nice to Ito Yuuta, because Ito was, in the simplest terms, an ass to Tsukishima. So anytime he saw them talking, it triggered something in Tsukishima. So, his own mean ways came back with a passion. He led on more than three girls at a time the week that he caught Ito leaning in far too close to Y/n and made her laugh.

Tsukishima knew it was wrong. He knew he was playing with fire when Ito’s first year little sister tried to get Tsukishima’s attention. He knew it was bad news to break her heart. He knew it was worse news that he had done it right in front of Ito himself.

“I’m not looking for anything serious right now. Bye.” Tsukishima left Ito’s sister standing by the school entrance with her jaw slack and her hand covering her mouth. Ito was fuming. He marched into class and ripped Tsukishima’s headphones right off.

“What the hell. You can’t just do that to a first year!” Tsukishima stood up and ripped his headphones from Ito’s hands.

“I just did.”

“Screw you Tsukishima. You're just a sad bastard because Y/n wouldn’t give you the time of day if you begged.” Ito huffed and pointed directly to where Y/n’s desk was.

“What?” He spat out.

“That's right, half of the school knows about your constant boner for the only girl who doesn’t give a flying shit about you.” Ito pushed Tsukishima in the chest before scoffing and walking out of the class. Tsukishima just stood there. Silent. Yamaguchi tried to talk to him but Tsukishima just snapped at him too.

Tsukishima walked out of class and to Y/n’s clubroom. When he saw her sitting down at a table silently gluing pieces of magazines onto a cardstock poster, he wanted to stop what he was going to do. But he was furious.

“You told him?” Tsukishima yelled. He was glad that it was just Y/n in the clubroom. Y/n flinched at the sudden screaming. He felt guilty immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tsukishima?” Y/n tried to get closer to him, but he pulled away from her.

“Oh, I'm sure you don’t know. Hell, Y/n.” Tsukishima stormed out of the clubroom and went straight home. He didn’t care if the school was going to call his parents, he was fuming and the only thing running through his veins was hatred.

He spent the entire day blasting music through his headphones, his eyes shut tight. The music was so loud that he didn’t even notice Y/n opening his bedroom door.

When she taps him on the shoulder he flinches at the sudden contact. He takes off his headphones and growls his words, “What do you want?”

“I want you to explain what happened in the clubroom.” She sat down on the edge of his bed and looked straight into his eyes.

This was the first time in what felt like forever that Y/n had talked to him. But he only had himself to blame for that, he was the one who pushed her away, he was the one who chose to stay away from her once he saw how she treated Akiteru. He was the one who was giving her the silent treatment.

And for once, Tsukishima wished he was anyone else at this moment.

“Do you really not see it?”

“How can I see when you’re covering my eyes?” Y/n refuted. Her analogy was confusing and didn’t clarify anything to Tsukishima.

“You never promised back that you would talk to me. Do you remember? We were ten years old, and you made me promise.” Tsukishima was tired of not having her attention. He was tired of it. He wanted her to talk to him. He wanted her to actively search out for him and ask about his day. He just wanted to have her be there for him. But how could he expect that from her when he was never there for her?

“I don’t remember that Tsukishima.” Each of her words was like an arrow was shooting through his heart.

He got up from his bed and gently, with as little force as possible shoved her out of his room. Sixteen-year-old Tsukishima wanted to grab her hands and yell in her face that he loved her. He wanted to say, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Because saying that would make the conversation interesting, it would entertain Y/n. Because they would be talking about his love instead of taxes.

That was the worst night of his life. Tsukishima's memories loved to play harsh tricks on him by creeping up when his mentality and esteem were going from low to lower.

The bus droned on, and despite everyone’s attempt to sleep Kageyama and Hinata were still talking loudly to the first years about how cool their seniors had been.

She was slightly twisting his hair, her pointer finger grabbing small tufts and looping it around her finger before sliding her hand out, leaving miniature curls. Tsukishima, even on a bus ride, had always been a sleep talker.

He awoke when he felt her poking him in his cheek. When he turned his head to look up at her, she was grinning.

“I love you too Kei.” She whispered as her hand ran through his hair. “Your sleep talking habit has gotten worse over the years.” She mused, giving him a few pats on his head.

And suddenly every single one of Kei’s favorite memories came rushing back to him. The memory of his first kiss with Y/n. The memory of her faking falling off a cliff when they were eight years old. The dinner party where she made him promise to always have something to say. The drunk confession when he was fourteen-year old. The chasing and running in the rain at fifteen. His five favorite memories, bursting into vivid color.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to utter the words. She knew it was wrong to say that to him. She knew that her love for him would only seem to rebound from his brother. She was a jerk to do that to him. And she was completely aware of it. But she did love him.

She loved him when she realized she didn’t love Akiteru. She wanted to believe that she loved Akiteru because she didn’t want to say that she loved Kei. Kei played around too much, so she knew it would only hurt her to like him. She needed someone secure. And at the time that person was Akiteru. But once she saw him kissing another girl, she realized she wasn’t jealous.

She felt happy for Akiteru. When she pictured it as Kei however, only then was she jealous.

Kei sat up fast, his hands running to cup her face. His words were practically buffering in his brain as he tried to come up with a sarcastic comment. But that didn’t fit right for a moment like this.

“I finally, finally, have your attention, right?”

Some years later, and after a lot of growing up, life finally clicked.

"I guess you did end up with a pet dinosaur Kei." Y/N traced the outline of the label in front of the ancient bones. She was wearing his Sendai Frogs jersey.

"He's not a pet, he's a testament to nature." Tsukishima slipped his arm around her waist, slipping cold fingers under her shirt to rub her hip. Goosebumps appeared for a moment, then dissipated.

In three weeks they would get married. In four, their apartment would be ready to move into. In one hundred fifty-six weeks, Y/N agreed that she would consider, maybe, having a kid.

"Did you like the game?"

"I loved the game, you were so cool! Which is almost never the case." His face hurts from how hard he's been smiling lately.

"You don't have to work, you know." He commented when he saw her scrolling through her phone calendar, purple events of her job at the weather forecasting station. She liked being a meteorologist, she was always the first to know when it was going to rain now.

"You're so annoying." Tsukishima kissed her, getting a laugh and a smile in response. He continued the tour around the museum, giving her more details than any other tour he had given. His favorite relics, his least favorite place to clean, the place he most wanted to make out with her. When they took a pause, she was playing with his hair at the nape of his neck as they were sitting in front of a painting.

Tsukishima Kei was used to the attention he got from L/N Y/N. It came from having an aura where he radiated love for her.

[biteofcherry]

Grain of Truth - part nine

Soft!Dark Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader

summary: You’re content with your quiet, peaceful life, but it suddenly becomes dangrously intense when an alpha, Steve Rogers, forces himself into it. You never believed nor seeked out the old fairytales of true mates, but Steve will make you admit there’s a grain of truth in every fairytale.

warnings for this chapter: fluff and feels; general cuteness and teasing; also some filth; oral; mild choking; few spanks here and there; oh and plants win!

word count: 4.6k

Main Masterlist

Grain of Truth Full Masterlist

Grain of Truth previous parts:   

 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight |

You woke to a mouthwatering scent that had your stomach growling eagerly and to the feeling of a warm cocoon encasing you. With a sleepy hum, you blinked your eyes open. There wasn’t a single detail in your surroundings that you recognized, yet no sense of panic crept up your skin.

A faint, familiar scent was wrapped around you and it settled you down - your Alpha’s smell lingering on the blanket you were tucked under, as well on the large t-shirt he put on you after shower. 

As you let your eyes wander around the space, you realized you were no longer in Steve’s bedroom, but in the living room downstairs. The tv was on, the volume turned so low you barely heard the commentators on screen. Steve’s hearing was better than yours, he probably could make it out. 

Stretching, you slowly rolled onto your back and looked up at the ceiling. Flecks of light danced across the creamy surface. You didn’t hear Steve’s steps, so it surprised you when he suddenly appeared in your line of vision, looking down at you as he leaned over the back of a sofa you were resting on.

His hair was already dry and his light skin showed no pinkness - neither from the shower, nor from the exhaustive activities prior. As if Steve wasn’t even affected by a few days marathon of animalistic fucking. 

Damn Alphas, you thought enviously. Not only was their stamina greater, they also seemed to have a much better recuperation speed. Steve looked like he could go for another twenty four hours round, while you wondered if you would ever regain feeling in your poor numb pussy. 

You were certain your legs would still shake, if you tried to stand up and move on your own. 

You’ve had some experience in heat sex, even if most of the time you preferred to be alone with your toys. Those few times you had a partner during heat were an untiring, bland ordeals compared to the complete annihilation by your Alpha. 

“Did you rest well?” Steve asked, bracing his hands on the backrest of the sofa.

“Ask me in a week, or two,” you groaned, rubbing your face with both hands. 

Your glare at Steve’s laugh didn’t wipe away his broad grin. You considered smacking him with a pillow, but you still remembered what he threatened you with the last time you threw one at him. 

You really didn’t think you’d survive, if he was to make his promise come true. 

“Hungry?” Steve picked up the blanket, when you started tugging it off your body, and folded it neatly. 

“Very!” You nodded eagerly, your empty stomach growling its agreement. 

While during the heat you didn’t care about the food, not even a little bit, now you were famished. And it seemed nothing else was more tempting than stuffing yourself with food. Especially when the smell wafting from the kitchen was so delicious, you were ready to crawl there if needed. 

But you didn’t have to. Steve picked you up before you attempted to pull yourself up into a sitting position. He swiftly lifted you up and over the back of the sofa, cradling you against his chest in a bridal style. 

Wrapping both arms around Steve’s neck, you played with the strands of hair at the back of his neck.

It was an affectionate caress; something you did purposely, not only as a mindless gesture. A week ago you’d say it wasn’t intentional, that your post-orgasmic haze made you unaware of what you were doing. 

Though it was somewhat instinctive to do it now, too, you were also aware of the intimacy of it and that you chose to continue. 

You felt the reassuring calm seep through the one-way bond; Steve’s own affection for you a solid thing. It was deep and intense, a wide flame that seemed impossible to put down with any means. Perhaps it was why you felt safe falling into it; knowing it would be grounding for you, since it lacked chaos and blinding need, which would scare you off with fickle outbursts and immature recklessness.

That too was something you used to fear. The all consuming, escalated feelings of something unstable and somewhat toxic - similar to the way teenagers dramatically fell in love. 

But Steve’s love for you, this deep bond he was willing to create between you, was a seasoned, mature certainty. It spoke of awaiting growth and fulfillment, which held their own passionate thrill to it. 

Somehow you knew that everything with Steve would be so much more intense. Love. Sex. Arguments. Punishment. They wouldn’t be unstable, though, since they weren’t driven by childish fantasies.

“You’re going to keep carrying me?” You asked, with an unmasked, elated chirp in your tone.

“Until your legs stop shaking every time you try to put your weight on them,” Steve pinched your butt.

“So for about a month longer,” you deadpanned and Steve laughed.

The sound of it - deep and booming, rumbling in his chest - made you smile. 

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, felt the big Alpha shudder at the simple, affectionate gesture. 

You wondered briefly, if it was because he was so open with the bond now, or maybe Steve always had this vulnerability with you, but you refused to see it; too stubbornly adamant on viewing him only as the pushy, possessive bastard who wouldn’t give you a choice.

He was pushy and possessive (you doubted that ever changes), but there was more to him than flaws you previously saw as his only trait.

“Maybe I should just keep you in bed, then?” Steve teased, placing you on the kitchen counter beside the sink. “A docile Omega, always naked and ready for her Alpha to take her.”

“I always knew you had a streak of a caveman,” you scrunched up your nose and wiggled your ass back to sit more comfortably, leaning your back against the kitchen window’s frame. 

“I never denied that.” Steve winked at you, squeezing your thigh before he stepped back. 

You watched him move over to the stove. There was something exceptionally hot and satisfying in the sight of this big, dominating Alpha in his half-naked state, preparing a meal for you. 

And he didn’t act as if it was something remarkable for which he should be praised. 

However, you thought the way his back muscle worked when he chopped and stirred was worthy of praise. Whistling even. 

Your gaze roamed over the wide span of Steve’s broad shoulders, appreciating that he still hadn’t put a shirt on. Then your eyes cast downwards, along his tapered waist and firm ass clad in low-hung, gray sweatpants. 

You were too hungry and too exhausted to follow with images that your mind supplied, but it was satisfying to remind yourself you could turn them into reality in a few days. Any day that you wished. 

Averting your eyes before Steve noticed you ogled him, you leaned more comfortably back and turned your head to peek outside the window. You saw the span of juicy green grass, trimmed, but kept tall enough your foot would sink into its softness if you walked barefoot.

You noticed a big, wooden construction right by this wall. Unfinished, with half-done floor; It looked to be built as an extension to the house. 

“Are you building a terrace?” You asked, though the tall roof of the wooden frame seemed unusual even for a roofed patio. 

Steve’s gaze flicked up to you, then followed your line of vision.  

“It’s a sunroom,” he replied, attention returning to the bubbling sauce in the pan. 

“For your plants.”

You turned your head swiftly, staring at Steve with wide eyes. He made it sound so casual, so simple, as if it wasn’t something that needed a further explanation. But his words sank deep, warming your chest from the inside. 

“For my plants?” Your voice was barely above a whisper; the question spoken hesitantly. “You- you’re building a sunroom for my plants? For me?”

Affection tugged at your heart. It struck strings that reverberated through your body with warmth and gratitude, threatening to elicit tears. The mushy wave of appreciation wasn’t for the sunroom itself, but for the fact that Steve did something so thoughtful.

It wasn’t just a gift to shower you with and win your graces, but something personally designed for you, suited for what you cared about the most. 

“When you move in with me, someday-” Steve sent you a pointed look that meant he wouldn’t welcome any argument regarding the matter, “I expect your jungle will move with you. You need a place to keep them in.” 

For now you didn’t comment on his assumptions about your living accommodation, since the controlling Alpha at least didn’t announce he expects you to move in right away. Which, honestly, you’d fight, regardless of your newfound fondness of Steve’s company. 

You were too enamored with his gesture to focus on anything that wasn’t a lovely image of lush greenery in a sun filled, glass room. 

“That’s-” your throat constricted with emotion- “too much. You didn’t have to.”

Steve looked at you, frowning. He put down the wooden spoon and turned off the oven. You swallowed hard when he nudged your legs apart and stepped between them. Both of his hands rested on your thighs, their heavy warmth somehow soothing your fluttering heart.

“Too much?” He sounded incredulous. “What kind of douchebags were you dating that you consider this too much?”

“Hey! They were nice.” you protested, scrunching up your nose. 

Maybe none of your exes was the love of your life and perhaps in some cases your ways parted with resentment, but you prided yourself on choosing good guys. With flaws, sure, but who didn’t have them. 

And occasionally they gifted you with lovely treats, flowers included. Cut flowers, bound in pristine bouquets that smelled dizzyingly (and died within days). The intent behind them mattered, you told yourself. But somehow it was more of an expected gesture than something done with genuine thought of your preferences.

Steve’s gift was grand. Not because of its size, but the fact it catered directly to what you loved. He understood how much you adored your plants and that you’d want them (and maybe more) wherever you moved. 

“Nice.” Steve jeered. “Doesn’t seem the right word to describe someone you’re in a relationship with.” 

“Is bossy asshole Alpha the right description?” You glared at him, mostly annoyed that he was right. Nice wasn’t a word that should be the first one to come to mind when you think of someone you’re supposedly in love with.

“Sure.” Steve’s fingers spread wide over your thighs as he leaned forward, tip of his nose almost touching yours. “It matches spanked hard bratty Omega.”

“Is spanking your solution to everything?” You huffed, trying to scoot back in case Steve was considering really getting his hands on your butt; but he held you in place. 

“Interchangeably with thoroughly fucked,” he teased his fingertips beneath the hemline of the t-shirt you were wearing. 

“And well fed,” he added with a grin and pulled away. 

“Alpha’s meaning of life.” At your snort and eyeroll, Steve chuckled. 

“And what’s yours?” He asked, moving back to the stove.

You watched him taste the sauce once more, then take out bowls from a cabinet. A brief thought that domestic contentment with a pushy Alpha may be the meaning of life passed your mind, but you couldn’t force it out of your mouth. 

“Growing?” You shrugged, appreciatively eyeing the huge portions that Steve plated for both of you. “Myself. And growing plants. Maybe some tiny people in the future.”

That slipped your lips, without you realizing you’ve said it. Only a second later you tensed as it downed on you. Terrified that you blurted it out, while you still didn’t exactly come to terms with the true mating, you tucked your chin down and peered at Steve from beneath your eyelashes.

He didn’t even stop in his motions, accepting the answer without much fuss. 

A part of you expected an overly eager reaction of a stereotypical alpha male wanting to breed his partner right away and strip them of any rights, beside the one to have his kids. The other part feared he’d be scared of the prospect and backpedal. 

“Sounds good.” Steve smiled softly, reaching out his hand to squeeze your calf reassuringly. 

He didn’t dwell on it, giving you a subtle hint that he’s on board with your needs, but not pushing to explore such a serious topic right at this moment. 

Then he handed you a bowl of delicious smelling pasta and leaned against the counter right next to you, with his own bowl. You weren’t sure why you’re eating like this - you sitting on the counter and Steve leaning his hip against it - while there’s a dining table nearby, with quite comfortably looking chairs. But there was something simply domestic about it. No forced formality that may stir awkwardness, but continued closeness.

As you ate, your eyes kept shifting toward the window and the tall wood construction outside. You couldn’t help it, but start picturing how it will look with windows installed and filled with greenery. You’ve had a large collection of plants, but the space called out for more.

Steve’s sigh drew your attention back. You looked at him confused, a single noodle of pasta hanging from your puckered lips until you slurped it in. 

“Come,” he set his bowl aside and took away yours. 

“You’re gonna break your neck trying to stare at the unfinished sunroom and fantasizing about running wild with it. We can sit in the backyard, you’ll get a better view.”

He slid an arm under your thighs and then hoisted you up and over his shoulder. He laughed at your squeak of surprise and palmed your ass. Then carried you out into the backyard, where a small terrace was set beneath a partly overgrown pergola. 

Steve dumped you into a garden chair that gave you a direct view on the construction. You didn’t even glare at him, your happiness at seeing the whole magnificence of your future sunroom prevailing. 

When Steve brought your food, you ate almost mechanically, stuffing your cheeks full and staring at the bare wood as if willing it to become a finished product. 

Steve angled his chair, so he could drape your legs over his lap without ruining your cute sightseeing activity. 

A while later you put the empty bowls left on the table and sat in comfortable silence - your Alpha with his eyes closed, face tilted up into streaks of sunlight filtering through the grapevine, slowly caressing your calves; and you imagining yourself surrounded by plants in a heat filled room. 

It felt as if your body fell deeper into light-as-a-cloud bliss as you imagined shades of green in various sizes. Touching the leaves, dipping your fingers into the soil, it would soothe any strains of the day. 

Steve’s presence would, too.

A small smile curved your lips when you glanced his way and considered his reaction, if you asked him to carry water cans for you, or to sprinkle tops of tall plants which you couldn’t reach. 

You imagined he’d roll his eyes, say something teasing, but do it anyway. Somehow you had no doubt Steve would join you, if you asked him. While you often purposely kept your previous partners away from your plants, knowing they wouldn’t really want to do it with you. 

Being with Steve, thinking of building a relationship with him, filled you with surprising contentment. You had no doubt that it came from you, not only an echo of Steve’s emotions through the bond. 

Seeing how seriously he treated your supposed mating, without making it only about possessing you, but actually growing together; it slowly washed away your previous need to fight it with all your might. 

And when you stopped pushing against your own feelings regarding Steve, flutters of happiness bloomed. Hints of easy playfulness shyly peeked out, as well, sensing safety even if you’d push your Alpha too hard.

Biting your lower lip, you slowly moved your legs off of Steve’s lap. Which stirred him momentarily; his eyes opening and glancing your way. 

Before he had a chance to protest, you were climbing into his lap. Steve’s hands cupped your ass as you settled against him, his eyebrow arched in question when you touched his chest boldly out on your own volition.

“Thank you for the sunroom,” you traced his pectorals with your fingertips, allowing yourself amazement with his physique.

“And for all the suffering I will cause you when I make you help me with the plants,” your cheeky grin made Steve snort. 

But you saw it in his eyes - felt it through the bond, too - that he was proud and elated. 

Of the fact he made you happy, as well because you reached out for him on your own, following the pull you no longer resisted. 

And truly, it was hard resisting Steve. 

Especially when he was splayed beneath you, hard muscles and power thrumming beneath his skin. 

A jolt of hunger shot down your spine, similar in its intensity to the first signs of heat. But you were out of this madness, perhaps only faint remnants lingering and adding to your reaction. 

Most of it, however, was simply your natural response to the proximity of your Alpha. 

Your hand traveled down Steve’s abdomen, with your eyes you traced the path, aiming for the straining bulge growing in Steve’s sweatpants. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth when your fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of Steve’s sweats. His grip on your ass hardened, squeezing your still slightly burning flesh.

“You’re sore, sweetheart,” Steve reminded you, both melting and annoying you with his care for your wellbeing while you were getting hornier by the second. 

“I don’t care,” your huff of breath bordered on a whine.

It turned into a yelp when Steve slapped your ass. The smack also caused your hips to rock desperately against him, evoking his own hiss. 

“I care,” Steve growled, but he didn’t stop your hand from slipping further into his pants. 

“But I want you,” you looked at him, eyes pleading. 

As your fingers grasped Steve’s hardening cock, fingertips not even meeting around his girth, the memory of how he stretched you made you moan. Heat unfurled in your core, leaving a growing wet stain on Steve’s sweatpants where you rubbed yourself on his thigh. 

“Oh God, I need it, Steve,” it had to be the echo of the heat still pulsing faintly in you, because you didn’t think you ever sounded so desperate outside of it. 

No state of arousal made you crave a dick so bad. Never before Steve. 

“Please,” you slanted your lips against Steve’s mouth, whimpering between messy kisses you tried to rouse him with. “Please, I want your cock. At least in my mouth? Please? Please, fill my mouth and belly, Alpha.”

Another slap stung your ass, but your gasp was muffled by Steve’s demanding lips against your own. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, then licked it lewdly. 

With heart-stopping (and hotly arousing) ease, Steve swiftly stood up and planted you on the table. The world spun as he maneuvered your body, so that you laid on your back with your head on the side where Steve stood. 

You tilted your head, gaze landing on the hardness bulging right above your eye level. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you stretched your arms above your head and gripped Steve’s hips. He let you tug his sweatpants down, while he yanked your t-shirt up, exposing your body to his hungry gaze. 

“Needy brat,” Steve growled when you dug your nails into his skin, urging him to come closer so you could taste his cock. 

He swatted your pussy, making you arch and close your thighs around his hand. 

“Open.” Steve’s demand was calm, but there was that firmness to it that annoyed you, yet turned your brain into mush. 

Despite knowing damn well he meant opening your legs, you parted your lips instead. Opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. 

And clenching your thighs tighter. 

Steve didn’t even huff. He yanked your legs apart with ease. Then landed a stinging slap to your inner thigh. Another one on your sensitive pussy, as well. 

But he stepped forward, letting you run your tongue on the underside of his cock. Using his other hand, he guided the reddened tip into your mouth. 

Heavy drag of it against your tongue, stretching your lips the more he pushed inside, made you shudder. Your nipples stiffened into hard peaks and more slick trickled. 

You began understanding why Steve turned so aggressively hungry when he ate you out, if tasting you was anything similar to how his cock tasted for you. 

Steve’s fingers rubbing circles on your clit didn’t help, rushing you swiftly into the first orgasm. 

You moaned around his length, the sound’s vibration causing Steve’s dick to twitch. 

Drops of potent precum slipped down your throat, igniting a burning need in your core. 

Your grip on Steve’s hips tightened, fingers digging into his buttocks as you angled your head backwards to try swallowing more of him. 

Rationally you knew Steve’s cock is too big to take him whole, but your brain switched to a more primal mode that craved to choke on it. 

You vividly remembered how you sucked him in the botanical garden, how you couldn’t swallow everything and pitifully teared up as it became too much. Still, you wanted to do it. To please your Alpha, but also because of your own frenzied need. 

Rocking his hips steadily, Steve controlled the depth of his thrusts. His satisfied purr at your eagerness only spurred you on. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you tried to suck and slurp and moan as much as you could, to entice him to take it deeper. As scary the realization was, but you wanted your Alpha to push you further. 

For a while Steve seemed to be indifferent to your attempts at breaking his self-restraint, until you arched your back with a muffled whine, sticking your chest upwards, and tipped your head at an angle that caused his dick to poke the back of your throat.

Steve stilled for a moment. 

He looked down at his cock stretching your lips wide, drool starting to seep out and mess up your pretty face. His gaze slid over your exposed body: round breasts heaving in offering, nipples begging to be pinched; belly that was already full of his cum from previous days; legs bent at the knees and spread apart; and his hand atop your wet cunt. 

Curling fingers of his left hand around your neck, he bent his knees slightly then inched his cock deeper into your throat. 

You tensed, your eyes watering with tears as you fought the gag reflex. 

Then Steve’s right hand moved; thick digits slipping between your folds and into your opening. He pushed in two at once and your throat constricted on a cry, causing you to really choke on Steve’s dick. 

“That’s it,” Steve rasped, withdrawing both his fingers and his cock. 

“That’s what you wanted, huh?” He pushed back in, delighting in your garbled moan as you swallowed him. “Good Omega, wanting to take her Alpha’s cock deep into her tight throat, even though you know you couldn’t do it before.” 

“Wanted me to own it, too?” Steve kept a steady pace. “Just like you needed me to own your sweet pussy in a proper way, locking you on my knot, so your body recognized it can’t escape me.” 

You would glare at Steve at the whole owning insinuation, if he wasn’t partly right. 

Your body thrummed because he took it so well, so thoroughly. Because he owned it.

Perhaps it was also why you loved having him in your throat, despite gagging on it and tearing up - because he now owned it, but also because it meant you owned his cock, too. 

You could take him, all of him. So all of him belonged to you. 

“Such a good girl for me, sweet brat” Steve praised, withdrawing enough that you could take a ragged breath. 

Then he was thrusting in again. He drove his cock so deep his sack rested heavy against your nose. The lewd aspect of it shook you, more slick gushing out. Good that it did, because just as Steve choked you on his dick, he forced three of his fingers into your pussy; curling them to hit right against that spot that made you see stars.

And he stayed like that.

Keeping his cock in your throat, almost constricting all of your airways, while he rapidly pumped his fingers into you.

Ending supply of air and the onslaught on your clenching pussy overwhelmed you. You kicked your legs, heels tapping against the edge of the table. Your hands helplessly smacked against Steve’s hips, though you weren’t sure if it was to push him away, or to urge him more as you felt a maddening climax approaching.

“Shh, you can take it, sweetheart,” Steve cooed, “Come on, I want you to cum. Cum for your Alpha.” 

It wasn’t a command, yet that and a gentle swipe of his thumb over your clit were enough to tip you over the edge.

Your whole body seized as you leaked around Steve’s fingers. A long scream burned in your lungs, coming out only as a gurgled vibration around the big cock locked in your throat.

Coming back from that high seemed to take longer than ever before. Steve was adamant on drawing out every second of it, keeping you shaking and choking. Your vision was darkening around the edges when Steve finally eased back. 

He slipped out of your mouth too, leaving you coughing and gasping for breath. 

Licking his fingers clean, Steve gripped his throbbing cock with his other hand.

“You still want to swallow it, Omega?” His voice was husky and low as he gazed down at you. 

At your eager nod, he rolled you onto your belly. Your legs hung down over the edge of the table, wetness trickling down your thighs. 

“It’ll be easier for you to swallow in this position,” Steve explained, tilting your chin up with his forefinger. 

He tapped his cock against your wet cheek, gathering a mix of your tears and drool, then guided it between your parted lips. Keeping his fingers wrapped tightly around the base, Steve fed you enough of his dick that you didn’t choke this time. 

Placing his free hand on the back of your head, he fucked your mouth. 

As you looked up at him, your eyes locked with his dark, hungry gaze. It sent a jolt to the very tips of your fingers. 

You wrapped your fingers around Steve’s where he was gripping his cock, cupping his balls with your other hand. Steve’s loud groan of pleasure made you preen. 

As did the soft moans and purrs he made when you hollowed your cheeks and drank every last drop of his thick, warm cum. 

Steve’s fingers caressed your head and cheeks as his cock rested on our tongue, twitching out last spurts. 

In this blissful moment, when you were lax and satisfied and you felt your Alpha so pleased with you, you thought for a second that you understood fictional Omega heroines who seemed to live to please their Alphas.

It brought a sense of fulfillment. 

Or maybe it was everything that Steve did for you, all the care and thoughtfulness and protection, that made it worthy to service him with your compliant body. 

[victoria-daydreams]

The Winner Takes It All||Challengers

AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.

Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.

A playlist for this series is coming soon!

Word Count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.

Part One: Sugar & Spice

With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.

"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.

"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.

The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.

"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"

A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.

"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"

Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.

With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.

The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.

"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.

Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.

"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.

At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.

The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.

"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.

Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.

"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.

"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.

"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.

"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"

Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.

“Sugar & Spice”

~~~x~~~

Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.

"She's no Tashi Duncan,"

It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.

Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.

Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.

She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.

Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.

"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.

Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.

"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.

"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.

"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.

Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.

Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.

God, they're both gorgeous.

Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.

"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.

"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.

"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.

She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.

"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.

"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.

"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.

She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.

"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.

They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.

"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.

Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.

"O-Oh," Art breathed.

There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.

"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.

Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.

"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.

At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.

"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.

"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.

"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.

"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.

Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.

Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.

"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.

"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.

"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.

"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.

"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.

~~~x~~~

True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.

Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.

"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.

"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.

"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.

"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.

"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.

"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.

They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.

"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"

"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.

He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.

"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.

"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.

"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.

"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.

"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.

"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.

Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.

"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.

"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.

"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.

"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.

"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.

Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.

"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.

"We both could," Patrick volunteered.

"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.

Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"

"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.

A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked

"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.

Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.

"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.

"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.

A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.

"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.

"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.

"Me too!" Patrick shouted.

Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.

~~~x~~~

Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.

A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.

"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.

There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.

Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.

"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.

"They invited me to come up to their room,"

"And you went?"

"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.

Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"

"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.

"Yep," Tashi grinned.

"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.

Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.

"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.

"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.

"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.

"Yeah,"

"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.

A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".

"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.

Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.

Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.

"What?'

"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.

Part II: Maneaters

[verxsyon]

·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓? ❞

wriothesley always wins his bets against you. for this round, the stakes are getting much higher. how long will it take for the captain of the gardes to admit their feelings to the duke? will this be the moment you’ll finally come out victorious, even though you have to pretend that your feelings toward him are in denial?

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. wriothesley x gn!reader

✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. drabble ; 0.6k

✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. coworkers to lovers au ; fluff

✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. no way, it's almost been a year since i wrote a drabble and for genshin too. wrote this during class today, so it looks pretty rushed lol. this man’s the death of me. he can choke slam me like he did with douchier dougier in his story quest. and no, i’m not sorry for saying that.

A defeated sigh escapes your lips as your cards rain down from your fingers onto Wriothesley’s desk. “Unbelievable. A first-time TCG player beat me in all three rounds. So, what do you want your prize to be? A tea company from the surface?”

“Haha. Your suggestions are becoming more adventurous, captain.” Wriothesley kicks back on his chair with a great idea in mind from the smug smile on his face. “Meet me there at night. You’ll help me sneak in, and I’ll rob its entire collection.”

You narrow his eyes at his sarcasm, and he surrenders. “Alright. I'll settle with a tea cup set. The cups in my current one are broken and the teapot has some cracks, so it’ll be nice to have a new one.”

“Okay, I’ll place an order from the surface and ship it here.” You get up from your seat. “I must head back. The guards could be slacking off as we speak. Excuse me, your grace.” 

“Ah, actually.” You hear the chair scrape the floor and turn to face him, who’s now leaning against the front of his desk. “Before you go, there’s something I need you to investigate.”

“Of course. what is it?” He stops you from coming back to your seat by his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. His expression’s gone rather ominous, and it stays that way when he leans closer to your ear.

“How long will it take for the captain of the gardes to admit their feelings for the duke?”

You cough violently and push yourself out of his hold. Despite his claims of not being omnipotent, his eyes and ears are everywhere within and beyond the fortress. But why are you still surprised that he’ll find out your feelings toward him eventually?

“Don’t tell me you believe those rumors, your grace?” You boldly deny, but deep inside you already know he totally won’t buy your facade based on your immediate reaction. “I’m assuming that’s what you want me to investigate, so again, please excuse me—”

“You didn’t answer my question, captain.” His fingers glide to your shoulder, akin to caressing it, and the temperature in your cheeks suddenly skyrockets. “So, how long will it take for the captain of the gardes to—?”

“I heard you the first time, your grace,” you say dismissively, screaming at him in your head to let you go back to your station and never talk about this matter ever again. “With all due respect, what’s the meaning of this?”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you already forgot,” he laughs as he goes back to his seat, hands folded on top of his desk. “Wanna bet?”

“This again?” you huff, more worn out from his ludicrous habits since you were stationed at the fortress as its security team. However, this could be an opportunity for you to finally win against him. If he decides to play the game this way, then might as well follow along to ensure your own victory. “Fine, I’ll say never.”

“Oh? No faith in the duke’s capabilities to charm them?” He seems confident with the answer he has come up with. “I’ll say within the next hour or two.”

“Ha! Overestimating the captain’s willpower to not fall for his charms, I see,” you counter, showing off your determination to win. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Alright then, it’s settled.” He shakes hands with you to solidify the agreement. “Oh, and captain? No need for your suggestions for this one. I know what I want as my prize.”

“Oh? And what would that be, your grace?”

Wriothesley just chuckles and tells you the most unpredictable thing that you never imagine being your fate as a loser. “How about a date with the captain themselves?”

[azen13]

I'd love to inquire about the Starlight Pawnshop. While the chess piece intrigues me, can I have the double sided coin? (Hoping for Aventurine, you see!)

King of Hearts, Ace of Spades

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Double-Sided Coin: A coin where both sides show the same pattern, allowing its desperate holder to not need to rely on luck to win this bet and secure their prize.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Description: You live on a dying planet, making just enough money playing poker to get by. One day, you meet a new player, Aventurine of the IPC, who has come to your world as a part of the IPC's plan to take your planet over. While he wasn't planning to make any big gambles himself, the thought of you being his might change his mind.

CW: Yandere Themes, Drinking, Mentions of Death, Non-Sexual Intimacy

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The scent of smoke and spirits is heavy and acrid, looming over your favorite poker table like a thunderstorm as the dealer shuffles a deck of cards. They’re red and black waterfalls in his weathered hands, rippling from left to right, right to left. Left to right, right to left, and again, and again. After you and the dealer, there are four empty wooden chairs, once occupied by players earlier in the night, now long gone after losing all their money. That left you and the strange man.

In your eyes, he looks rather gaudy in his well-pressed suit, practically shimmering from head-to-toe due to all the jewelry he wears. Unlike you and your rigid, controlled posture, he seems perfectly relaxed, draping himself over his chair, a king on his throne, overlooking his kingdom with a smile that seems to shine in his neon-colored eyes like diamonds. When the dealer passes out cards, dealing two to you and two to him, he glances at them without so much as a change in expression before he has settled back into his original position. His cards are so close to you that if you craned your neck just a little to the right, you might be able to know how to play this upcoming round. You know better, though. This is an impossibly important match, and if you lose it, you wouldn’t be able to pay your electric bill.

Still, the thought is tantalizing. Unlike the people you usually played against, who had easy tells and rarely won–unless you were having an off day–he was clearly well-versed in the game of poker, and had the luck to go with it: pocket aces, straights, a royal flush, even. You were certainly no novice either, but he had slowly been chipping away at you, taking high risk after high risk, to which you always folded, even when you had the cards to win.

Looking at your cards, you have to bite back a smile. In your hands lie the ace of diamonds and the ace of hearts: pocket aces. It was as though the stars–however invisible they were in the sky on your planet–had aligned in a serendipitous syzygy. This was the moment you needed. The moment your hard work would pay off. If all went well, you could pay your electric bill, as well as buy some bread. If you were really lucky, you could purchase a ticket off this planet, a world of decay and death, to go somewhere brighter and better, and start a new life.

Of course, that was all just wistful thinking, you remind yourself. Snapping yourself from your momentary reverie, you place your cards on the table, glancing over to the blonde stranger opposite to you. His eyes gaze at you with such unceasing focus, it almost feels like you’re being lasered straight through. You squirm in your seat a little, concentrating on the curve of his lip and the calm emanating from his posture, hoping to find some clues as to what your opponent might be thinking. Despite your best attempts, you come up with a blank.

“Why the long face, friend?” His voice snaps your attention like a toothpick, the words as thick and syrupy as honey as they pour over your ears. You do your best to force his voice out of your head, instead watching as the dealer lays out five cards in the center of the table and flips three over: king of hearts, jack of clubs, ten of diamonds. Just the sight of each card makes your heart thrum with excitement.

With shaky hands, you throw caution as far away as you can, and push your meager stack of chips into the pot. “All in,” you whisper. You have not prayed to the Aeons in many years, but in this moment, you send a silent prayer out to the cosmos, hoping for a response.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. Suddenly, you feel very small and insignificant, like an ant beneath a shoe. Perhaps this wasn’t a good decision, not when you’re on your last leg in this match, and you need this money. But playing it safe wasn’t working, and you’re almost out of money, so might as well go out with a bang, right? “All right,” he chuckles, leaning forward and using his free hand to push all his chips into the center of the table, “I suppose I’ll do the same.” 

After a moment, the dealer flips over the remaining two cards: a queen of clubs and a ten of clubs.

Shuddering, you lay down your cards.

Your heart shatters so violently and thoroughly, nothing remains but a pit in your stomach.

He has pocket aces too, but unlike you, he has the ace of clubs, giving him a straight flush.

For several minutes, you watch yourself sit listless, as the dealer gives your opponent the winnings and heads off for the night. Now, in this part of the gambling den, only you and the winner remain. The man picks up a red and white chip, running a gloved finger across its damaged edge. “A good game. Excellent, even,” he remarks, flipping the coin in the air and catching it in his palm. He looks at you again, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “How about a drink? I’ll pay.” 

You want to say no. All you want to do is go home and cry and scream and figure out how you’re going to sustain yourself for the next week or so. You want to eviscerate this stranger for taking your money when he hardly needs it. He isn’t struggling to pay bills, or afford food and water. But you are. Even though you want to do these things, a free drink is a free drink, and with how tight money will be in the upcoming weeks, it’s not like you can decline the offer. “Sure.” You let him guide you away from the poker table, past strangers clad in shadows betting their miniscule fortunes and drunkards drowning in fleeting moments of hedonism to a small bar.

Lit by flickering neon lights and pungent with the smell of cheap liquor, it reminds you of everywhere on your home planet: trashy. There are no patrons by this time of night; all the reckless people have already spent their money, and those smart enough to not give into temptation know the price is far too much for just one pleasant night.

The man sits on a stool, lounging just as comfortably as he did at the poker table. “Well, what do you want?” He asks, propping up his chin with a hand. You search the bar, trying to find a menu, but come up with nothing. Not knowing what to do or say, you shift on your feet, chewing on your lip as your eyes flit over the room again.

Noticing your unease, your former opponent simply chuckles, sidestepping you to walk up to the counter. “Two glasses of sparkling water please,” he says, pulling out a black and gold credit card and sliding it over to the bartender. After a moment, he’s already handing you a fluted glass full of a pale, effervescent liquid. “By the way, I’m Aventurine,” the man says, offering his free hand to you. 

In return, you muster up a weak smile, though bitterness leaks through the cracks. “I’m Y/N,” you respond. You clasp his hand and shake it once or twice, before letting go. After a moment, you take a sip of your drink. “Thank you for buying me this,” you add.

Aventurine waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, “it’s not every day I get to play against someone so talented.” Even with how horrible you feel, the compliment is enough to brighten your expression a little.

A momentary silence settles over the two of you, and you feel the urge to say something. To do something. But before you can ask a question, something stops you in your tracks.

Your stomach growls.

You feel your face warm a little, embarrassed at how loud the sound is in the quiet. Aventurine tilts his head a little, an eyebrow raised. “Hungry?” he asks.

You give a curt nod. “Food is hard to come by nowadays. I make it by with gambling, but…” your voice falters into a sigh. This man isn’t family, a lover, or even a friend. Just an acquaintance you met only hours ago. You shouldn’t be sharing your life problems with him. “With everything getting worse, it’s only getting harder and harder,” you explain. 

Aventurine’s eyes are intense. You never noticed how strikingly beautiful they are, as luminescent as the lights overhead. They gaze at you with a certain understanding, a solidarity even, as though he is silently saying ‘I have been hungry, too.’ Then you watch the light in them shifts, darkening like clouds covering the sun. “I could help you,” the blonde gambler offers, a smirk dancing on his lips, “for a price.”

At the sight of your confused expression, Aventurine continues. “I could give you anything you might want. Food. Water. Shelter. Luxury. I can show you the universe,” he says, gesturing to a cracked window showing the expansive, empty night sky. You have a distant memory of seeing the stars as a young child, but they are long gone, obscured by decades of pollution. 

“What’s the price?” You ask, immediately thinking of an old saying your parents used to tell you as a child: nothing in life comes for free. For such a bargain, surely there must be a price to pay?

With the flick of his wrist, Aventurine procures a poker chip in his hand, tossing it up and catching it; unlike the warped, dingy ones the gambling den owned, the one he held is in mint condition, colored green and gold. “Oh, nothing too costly,” he chuckles, leaning in. “Just you,” he murmurs. 

While the air feels electrified, you feel frozen in place. “I don’t understand,” you respond, the words moving past your lips like a drunk man hobbling home. Perhaps you are drunk with how your mind is spinning in every direction like a tornado. You check your glass. Still practically full.

Aventurine’s smile widens. “And you don’t have to.” His eyes bore into yours; for a moment, you feel like you’re being hypnotized by how the kaleidoscopic hues in them seem to swirl and shift. You want to move, but you’re still frozen where you stand. “To be honest, I myself hardly understand what I see in you,” he adds, “but I know I need it. I need you.” 

The declaration hangs over your head like a thunderstorm, ready to strike you down in all its passion. Before it can, though, you manage to stand up on shaky limbs. “I refuse,” you mutter, storming out of the gambling den, leaving Aventurine sitting alone.

An easy smile rests on his face, his mind assured that this won’t be the last time he sees you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You return to the gambling den the next evening, intent on one thing: winning. Your electric bill payment might be late, but if you manage to eke out a victory, you can pay for both that and your upcoming water bill. Your dreams are immediately halted by the sight of Aventurine, lounging at your table as though it’s his, eyes glittering with what you now recognize as greed. It only takes a moment for you to put the pieces together: how precarious your finances are; how you make most of your money through gambling; how much he needs you.

He’s trying to crush any chance you might have at earning money, so that you willingly walk into his arms.

His expression is unceasing. He knows you’ll give in eventually, you have to. But you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of winning. Not yet. So, with fire in your heart and daggers in your eyes, you stalk over to your table, and sit yourself down.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s only a matter of days before you lose everything. Electricity. Water. Heat. Sewage. Waste. You don’t try to scrounge around for food or water, and don’t even bother looking for a job. You haven’t heard of an open one for weeks, especially with unemployment rising steadily. Most of all, you don’t bother going to the gambling den. You don’t want to see Aventurine’s smug expression.. Your home, a small, drab concrete box, will be your tomb. You’re sure of it. 

That is, until you see those neon eyes glowing in the darkness of your room. 

Immediately, you attempt to stand up, but your body protests, your vision growing blurry from vertigo. “What are you doing here?” You mumble. You try to channel fury in your voice, but you can’t find any fire in yourself, only weak, meaningless sparks.

Aventurine only laughs. “I’m here to offer you another deal.” With the flourish of a hand, he pulls out a small poker chip, the same one he held that fateful night you first met him. “If you accept, I’ll uphold my end of the bargain, and give you anything you want. But if you win a coin flip, then you don’t have to uphold your end,” he explains. “And let’s be honest: you don’t exactly have any more options, do you?” he asks, that smug smirk easily settling on his face. You scowl at him, but say nothing.

Finally, after a few seconds, you mutter a half-hearted ‘fine’. With the way Aventurine’s eyes light up, it’s like he’s already won. You suppose he has. After all, he has an extraordinary ability to get lucky when necessary.

“Hearts or spades?” he asks, though you hardly pay attention. You grunt out the former, watching as the coin flies high into the air, a blur of motion, before settling back down into Aventurine’s palm. 

You see the symbol of a spade, but instead of fear, you feel relieved, oddly so. You slump into yourself a little more, sinking back down to the floor. After a moment, you feel Aventurine’s presence by your side. “Hey, love, it’s okay,” he murmurs, tenderly brushing some of your messy hair out of your face. Then he starts working his hands against your scalp, gently attempting to detangle the knots in your matted hair. “I know how hard this must be, but it’s going to be alright,” he whispers. “I’m going to take good care of you, I promise.”

To your worn-down mind, that sounds divine.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

midnight sun by merils

Who would win: four men with guns who just happened to get Red Robin to walk into a trap, or one royally-pissed Kryptonian juggernaut?

Yeah, it's not even a contest.

reasons are better than rules by destiny919

"No one will actually explain Father's rules to me," Damian blurts out. "They tell me we don't kill, and killing is wrong, and Father would never do it, but no one ever actually says why! As if repeating the rule is the same as explaining it! As if I am supposed to just know, when I do not!"

Drake is quiet, eyes on something in the distance that Damian cannot see. "Damian, may I tell you a secret?"

Marvel

Thirty Hours by polaroid15

The sun sets. Peter breaks three toes and hits his head hard against concrete. There’s a steadily bleeding wound in his side that he’s staunched with his webbing and tries not to acknowledge it when it burns. He can still walk in a straight line, which is good. He’s starving and tired and cold. It’s been fifteen hours.

Or, Peter doesn't take any breaks during a lengthy fight with the Avengers. The mind-melting fever that follows really should have been expected.

Clone Wars

An Hourglass In Hand by ecarian

“I thought daemons didn’t eat,” Rex noted once, during a celebration feast, as he and Cody watched Boga devour her meal with some fascination. Varactyl she may be, but she was a tiny one. There wasn't much interior space for the truly momentous amount of meat she was ripping into.

Boga daintily rubbed her beak against a folded serviette that looked kind of like a bird, and said, prim, “I can do anything a human can do.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan said mildly, from where he’d been tapping at a datapad. “Shall I save you a portion of these reports then?”

Set My Mind at Ease by Eightbitpale

Marshal Commander Cody - clone commanding officer of the 7th Sky Corps, second in command of the 212th attack battalion and, currently, the proud caretaker of one still-warm lightsaber - was having a very long day.

Actually, fuck that. It had been more than a long day. Long days were Cody’s bread and butter, practically his comfort zone. Marshall Commander Cody ate stim shots for breakfast and every shiny this side of Coruscant knew it. Long days were his bitch.

No, this had been more than a long day. Today had been a bad day.

———

The one where Cody and his general try their best to tell each other that they care. At least they’re trying.

Your Smile In Stone by ecarian

Wooley: can we arrest people for yelling this early?

There were two figures standing at the foot of General Kenobi's statue with their backs to Wooley, an adult with a hood, and a child with light hair. The child was pointing at a puddle of Temple tookas who were curled up in General Kenobi’s lap, lounging in the stone folds of his robes, the bend of his knee.

Wooley: belay that. Child nuisance.

The Goblin Emperor

Sweet Hope by baladric

Maia Drazhar arranges a festival, meets his gay aunt, falls in love with his secretary, and misses his mom through it all.

"In the way of true stories, there was no discernible beginning. Perhaps it had begun that first day, in the shabby receiving room at Edonomee; in the cockpit of the Radiance of Cairado; at the mooring mast of the Untheileneise Court, with that first smile.

The pith of the matter was that Maia Drazhar was wildly, tremulously in love, and love had made fools of much wiser men than he."

In All Its Forms by Anonymous

Before his father ruined everything, Nurevis Chavar only thought to introduce the new emperor to all the most beautiful things life could offer.

When he found himself free from relegation again after his father's death, would the emperor whose friendship he had sought so long ago wish his presence at court? And, if he could return to court, would his emperor wish his friendship again?

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 4

Dead Disco Masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.3k words - AO3 18+ Minors DNI, no smut but mentions of sex, eating issues, feelings of anxiety, depression, sadness. Relationship issues. Established throuple. Conversations.

It’s possible you’ve had a stroke.

One minute, you’re alone in the hotel room, half asleep on crisp white sheets, and the next, you’re in the apartment, your small bag slung over your shoulder, Simon’s knuckles white around the handles of your suitcase, Johnny standing in front of you with a hand outstretched like you’re a deer he might startle. You must have had a stroke, because how else did that happen so fast? Maybe you’d been knocked unconscious or tripped and hit your head. Or you’re stuck in some sick nightmare that’s pretending to be dream, because-

“Darling?” Johnny pulls your attention easily, hand closing over yours, it’s warmth a safe and comforting thing that you thought you might really never feel again. He looks at you expectantly, and you take in the door frame that you’re standing just on the other side of, your body not quite across the threshold yet.

Were you really doing this? Going back? 

You wanted to leave… didn’t you? 

Did you? Did you truly want to leave? 

Or was it easier to leave, then be left. Was it easier to leave, so you could be found. 

When you look at them, something burns in your chest. They look exhausted, and an entire new layer of guilt lays upon you, knowing that they’ve already been back for hours, but haven’t been able to rest.

Simon says your name, quietly, but his voice carries the warning of a promise he made two hours ago, the assurance that no matter where you went, he’d always bring you back. That he and Johnny would never give up, they’d never let the ugly things that live inside your head win. That he’d remind you, again and again, until you don’t remember anything else. Until you only recognize the truth.

You want to fight them. A part of you, the desperate part, the violent sliver that blackens a piece of your heart, says you will. You want to scream and yell and throw something. Break something, damage something other than yourself. It’s not that easy, you want to tell them, you don’t understand. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest. What if you’re making a mistake? It was always them, and then you… wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? You gulp, and you know it’s audible, because Simon shifts his weight, tensing, like he’s preparing to dart out into the hall after you. Is it real? Could it really be, the three of you… and not them then you? 

Johnny’s thumb rubs a gentle pattern across your knuckles, and it draws you in, your body naturally seeking his, your feet moving on their own until your curling into his chest, face buried in his shirt, fingers clutched in the fabric like it’s your only lifeline. A bag drops, a door clicks shut, a trio of locks slide into place, and then Simon is on you both, heavy arms pressing your bodies together, a mouth mussing along your freshly washed hair.

“Let’s go to bed.” Simon suggests, stroking a pattern up and down your spine. “We can talk more when we’re up, how does that sound?” You murmur non-committal nonsense into Johnny, who turns you in the direction of the bedroom, and you walk one step in front of them until you’re folding onto the mattress, sinking into the too familiar comfort of the big bed. Tomorrow, you promise yourself sleepily, tomorrow you’ll get your head sorted out.

“I’m confused.” Your phone is squeezed between your ear and your shoulder while you probe a mango that looks awfully green, and Johnny sighs on the other end of the line. 

“Dinner. Dinnae tell me you’ve got plans?” 

“What? No… I don’t. Are you… are you inviting me over to like, eat dinner?” A meal? Like actual food? And not just you spread out on the dining table like last weekend? 

“Aye, love.” The mango flexes in your grasp, the soft points of its flesh surrendering under the pressure of your fingertips. 

“Tonight?” There’s a pause, swift silence and the phone goes dead quiet, like the line has been muted. A few seconds pass, and you discard the mango carelessly in frustration before he comes back on. 

“No, tomorrow?” 

“O-okay. Sure. Dinner, tomorrow.” Dinner. You’re going to have dinner with them. You steady your breathing to try to get a grip. It’s not like you haven’t shared meals before. The three of you have eaten takeaway in bed at least twice, and you’ve all eaten out together, or had breakfast in the morning together. 

But this sounded… it felt like something else. 

“Our place, nineteen hundred.” 

“What time is that?” 

“Seven. See you then, yeah?” 

“Um. Yeah.”

Your stomach is thrashing when you stand in front of their door the next day. Your confusion about the invite for dinner has blossomed into a full-fledged panic, and you’re mostly convinced that this is the goodbye dinner, that they’re going to cut you lose now, sever the connection that’s been brewing between the three of you without a second thought. 

These thoughts, this spiral has forced you into a new realization, a terrifying one, a truth that sits uncomfortably in your belly, its reality forcing you to swallow your nerves while your finger hovers over the doorbell. 

You like them. You don’t want them to cut you lose. You want to stay. You want… more. 

 You’ve already told yourself; you won’t beg them. You won’t plead, you won’t try to convince them to keep you. It’s pretty clear they’re happy together, your intermission in their life probably something they’ll wipe their hands of as soon as you’re out the door tonight. 

Still, something in you burns for them. Pulls you towards them, like they’ve got their claws in you and won’t let go. 

You smooth the front of your dress and ring the doorbell. You try not to fidget, try not to touch the black fabric that sits just a little snug, that outlines your body in all the right ways, and your fingers are wrapped around themselves when the door swings open wide to reveal Simon on the other side. He looks you up and down indulgently, and something flares in his eyes, a heat that you can practically feel while his jaw flexes behind the mask. 

“Hi.” You want it to sound confident, comfortable, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper. 

“Darling.”

It’s the heat that wakes you. Your body is pinned between them, the three of you easily falling into the usual sleeping position, you on your side, Simon at your back, Johnny half sprawled, your face on his diaphragm so he can stretch his arm above your head. Usually, he falls asleep scratching his nails into Simon’s scalp, and you fall asleep with your hips pressed back and a flat palm on Johnny’s rib cage.

Today, you’ve woken up exactly the same, except Simon’s cock is flush with the curve of your ass, and you can feel the heavy hardness of it when you shift. A delicious daydream forms in your mind, and you think about reaching behind you to free him from his briefs when Johnny grumbles, his eyes blinking open with a disgruntled mmph. He stuns you, still, with how beautiful he is. How perfect he is, how even when he’s just waking up, he still manages to look like something etched by a god. Your heart swells when you look at him, the overflowing feeling nearly smothering you beneath it's pressure, and you resist the urge to stroke your fingers along his jaw. Love. It's love, it's love, how could it ever have been anything other than love? 

“Good morning.” You whisper, even though you know it’s well into the afternoon. He rolls completely, tucking you into his body closer, and you feel his hand card over Simon’s side.

“How did you sleep?” He croons above your ear, accent still thick with sleep, and you shrug.

“Fine, I guess.” You trying to make the shush motion with a finger against your lips, but Johnny just smiles. A big hand, not Johnny’s, pats your hip.

“Breakfast?” Simon mumbles in your hair and you nod.

“Breakfast sounds good.”

Johnny makes pancakes. You assume it’s because he knows they’re your favorite, and because there are no fresh groceries in the apartment, no eggs or fruit or anything else.

“I could go down to the supermarket, if we want? Grab some-“

“No.” Simon pours a mug of black coffee and points to the counter stool. “Sit.” He’s still in his briefs and nothing else, the cut of his hips on display just above the waistband, and your eyes trace his form briefly. A magnet that's settled behind your heart springs alive, trying to pull you towards him, trying to push you right up against him. The feeling intensifies as you watch him, and your stomach flips. It's love, the thrall, the pull, the power of what you feel. The intoxication of your adoration, the connection you have with him. It threatens to end you, right there on the stool and you cast your eyes down to break the spell. He sets the coffee in front of you and turns to where Johnny stands at the stove, placing a kiss on his shoulder before getting himself his own cup and sitting down next to you, a thigh just barely touching yours. 

“How’re you feeling?” Johnny probes, and you gnaw on your bottom lip and look down into your lap. Get your shit together. Get your head together. 

“I’m okay.” You shrug, and Simon scoffs into his mug. Johnny stands with a hand on his hip across the countertop, looking back and forth between your plate of pancakes and your face expectantly. Just eat. Make him happy. You love pancakes. Discomfort settles your bones. The edge of the fork bites into the skin of your palm. “I am feeling a lot.” You disclose it cautiously, staring down at your plate, watching the syrup ooze around the contents of your breakfast.

“Will you tell us? What it is you’re feeling?” Simon persuades, his hand just hovering in your line of sight. Not touching you, but close enough. In case you need him. You draw a deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can manage before letting it out in a whoosh.

“When you’re gone… and even sometimes when you’re here, it’s too easy to feel like this isn’t real. It feels like... you could never come back, because you don’t have to. It’s not like you need me.”

“What’s making you think that?” you notice the way Johnny’s gripping the countertop, fingers wrapped around the edge like he’s trying to snap the slab free, knuckles white, forearms tense. Tension runs through him from head to toe, and you feel the urge to reach out and comfort him, to mold your body into his, feel him against you. You’re hurting them. You’ve hurt them. Is this really what you wanted? 

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Yer not eating?” You swallow the dry fear in the back of your throat and try to give Johnny a smile. 

“I did.” He raises an eyebrow. “Eat some.” You clarify and shift nervously. “It was good, you did great as usual.” You give him a cheeky smile and he returns it, but it slips from his lips easily, and he returns to folding his hands in his lap. 

It’s something he does when he’s nervous, you’ve noticed. When he’s anticipating something. He’s been jumpy since you got here, and it’s done nothing to alleviate your fears and everything to confirm them. 

They’re giving you the boot. You can already tell. 

You try to keep it together, try to focus on having a good time and enjoying their company, but you can’t stomach the reality of the situation… or your food. It’s a bad habit, something you’ve picked up over the years, the eating thing. It’s not something you’re proud of, of but also something you can’t shake. It plagues you, and you-

“We want to discuss something with you.” Johnny says, and you give them both a polite smile, forcing yourself to not to stand up and bolt in that very second.

It’s going to be fine. It’s just like getting dumped, which you’re fairly good at. You can do this. 

“Okay.”

“We’ve really liked having you around,” Your mind strays, zoning out for a moment while you think about how much you’ll miss them. How it’ll be different, not waking up between them or spending long nights in their apartment with them. How you’ll miss the way Johnny rubs your back, the way Simon soothes you with a simple, gentle touch. How- “and we don’t want you to get the wrong idea about us, we-“ 

“What he means to say is…” Simon interrupts, and then pauses like he needs to collect his thoughts. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, the three of us.” Your heart goes from fast to superspeed, it’s pulse thundering in your ears. You fight to steady yourself, your head, your heart, anything to get control of your own mind and not break down at the table. “And we enjoy it. Enjoy… you.” 

“Not just the sex.” Johnny cuts in, and you nod. 

“We’ve had a lot of fun.” You agree and Simon frowns, something like disappointment, or sadness, casting a shadow across his face before it clears and he’s reaching across the table for your hand. His touch calms you, and when you look up into his eyes, there’s something there that surprises you. Something tender, and soft. Something like adoration. 

“’S not just fun, darling. You’re precious to us.” Your head feels light, and you look at them both with wide eyes. They’re holding hands, and Johnny looks like he’s grasping onto Simon for dear life in this moment. 

“I don’t understand... you two are… in love. I thought, we were just… having sex?” your mouth feels like cotton, and you grope blindly across the table for your wine glass without taking your eyes from them. When you find it, you down the dark red liquid without a second thought, gulping loudly. 

“Aye, but… we want to spend more time with you. If you’d like that.” 

“More time…” 

“Dating.” Johnny smiles at you, his gorgeous, easy way of it settling a wild flare that’s gone off inside your heart. 

“You… want to date… me?” You nearly laugh at the absurdity, but hold it back, not wanting to insult them and the serious expressions they’re wearing. 

“You’ve given us something…” Simon trails off, lost somewhere before he comes back, eyes clear and focused on you. “You’ve given us something we didn’t know we could have. Didn’t think we had a capacity for, and now… we don’t want to be without you. We miss you when you’re not with us.” The room suddenly feels incredibly hot, like someone’s turned the heat on high, and even though you’ve just finished your wine, your mouth is completely dry. 

They want you. They don’t want to get rid of you… they actually want you. Something dark and sharp twists in your mind, something full of doubt and loathing, something that tells you to run away. They won’t want you anymore once they get to know you. Truly get to know you. They won’t keep you. Don’t get confused. 

Johnny politely clears his throat, and then drags his chair until he’s right next to you, soft gaze peering down with wonderment, like you’re some magical… unicorn.

“We wan’ be with you, love. The three of us, together.” 

The blackout curtains make the bedroom effectively dark, the only light a small one, and you bury your face in the pillow when you feel weight shifting, the heap of blankets you buried yourself under being tossed around until you feel the heat of a body next to yours. You reach for it instinctively, the ridges of scar tissue in very specific spots signifying who it is. You feel his lips above your ear, and then he’s pulling you into him, cradling your head with the back of his hand. He pulls the blankets back up overtop the two of you, enclosing you both underneath, shutting out the light. You had managed to slip away from breakfast unscathed, but it didn’t matter. They’d always find you.

“When I first fell in love with Johnny, I pushed him away, I hurt him intentionally in hopes he would grow to hate me.” Simon’s voice is low, nearly a whisper, and you close your eyes and fall into it. “I was… scared. Of him, of what he made me feel. I was afraid that once he knew me, knew who I was, he’d be gone.” He strokes a hand up and down your spine, and your fingers tighten in the blankets that you’re holding. “He made me feel out of control, and I was terrified of being abandoned by him. Every time he went out in the field, I convinced myself he wasn’t coming back. And then when he did, I treated him harshly.” Oh, Si. You bury yourself farther into him, placing a soft kiss where his neck meets his shoulder. Cool air slips in an opening and the mattress dips again, Johnny’s body molding to your back, his embrace pulling the three of you tighter together under the blankets.

“Simon…” you whisper, but he continues on.

“I had treated him poorly because I was enraged by my fear. My fear of losing him, my fear of being alone again, my fear of being abandoned by him.” He pauses, chest expanding with a deep breath. “I can’t tell you I know exactly how you’re feelin’ but I do know what it’s like to be afraid to lose. I know what it’s like to be a captive of your head, your own thoughts.”

“I…”

“Like I said last night, as long as you want us, we’ll never give up on you. We’ll drag you back to us every time. I know, we know, that deep down, you know the truth. You know we love you, darling. And even though you lose yourself sometimes, we will always take care of you. We will always be here for you.”

“You’re never on the outside with us, but I understand how you might feel that way sometimes.” Johnny offers, and you nod silently. “Simon and I spend a lot of time together when we’re away. I know it hasn’t been easy, being the one always left behind.” Tears roll down your face now, and a thumb wipes across your cheekbone. “But we miss you every second, think about you every second. It’s hard because we can’t call, can’t text, but when we’re not with you, we feel like we’re missing a piece of ourselves.”

“And maybe we haven’t done a good enough job, communicating that with you, making you feel safe and secure.” Simon murmurs, and you shake your head.

“No.” you choke. “N-no it’s not your fault. I- I’m supposed to tell you…when I feel bad.” How can you explain? “I don’t know how to explain it, I… just… ran away. Instead of talking to you.”

“You ran away because you thought you were being abandoned.” Simon kisses you gently on the forehead, and Johnny presses his lips to your shoulder. You try to say yes, say no, say you’re sorry, but nothing comes out but a choked sob.

“But… we need to know if you still want this, love. If you do, we’ll list the flat tomorrow and start looking for a new one together.” Johnny’s voice wavers, and you feel his grip tightening. “If you don’t think this… us, is something you want anymore, you have to tell us. You have to decide what you want.”

The room falls silent except for the sound of your lungs heaving, your breaths wet and syrupy from crying, your heart breaking wide open. Do you really want to be without them? Do you really want to be left feeling like you do when they’re gone? You love them, do you actually want to give them up? 

Do you want this?

[todayontumblr]

Friday, August 31.

Not now Jack Nicholson

Ever take a mirror selfie with your daughter when internationally-renowned actor, filmmaker, and three-time Academy Award-winning Hollywood icon Jack Nicholson gets in the way? God dammit Jack, not again. That right there is the problem with actors: they are incapable of realizing that the world does not revolve around them.

Well, as it happens, around four years ago @cctinsleybaxter was wondering where’s that photo of kubrick getting a mirror selfie with his daughter and jack nicholson’s in the foreground because he thought they were taking a picture of him asdfghjkl, and, despite our collective irritation, we could not help but admire it one more time. It was high time, if you will.

Nicholon's out-of-focus folded arms, proud posture, and satisfied little smile—a smile that says this is my time to shine—Kubrick's mildly perturbed expression at having his picture with his daughter spoiled, and her look of dry amusement. It is, quite simply, a classic and thoroughly deserving of every last letter of its asdfghjkl. For this is an image that should hang in The Louvre; but only because it, too, was placed there by mistake. 

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Starlet

Dieter Bravo x Co-Star x Wife Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better. Warnings: PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls. Words: 3,750

A/N: This has been a labor of love and horniness. You should all just automatically know I'm thanking @ohheypedrito for always being my sounding board. Also @magpiepills for sharing in my MFF joy. Shout out to "Kiss Me More" by Doja Cat & SZA.

Masterlist

___

Fancy hotel suites might just be the biggest perk of marrying a Hollywood superstar. Room service whenever you want, plush robes to relax in, a balcony view of Los Angeles’ glimmering lights, and a large plush bed perfect to fit two… or three bodies.

Sure, you could have stayed home and waited for the car service to bring Dieter home after the premiere, but when the studio offers a free hotel suite, you and Dieter happily accept. You love to get fucked by your husband in a new bed. 

You’ve just dove into your new book, laid out on the chaise lounge of the balcony, sunning yourself in the early evening Summer sun when your phone dings with its customary Dieter ding. 

He should be getting ready for the movie premiere; what does he need to tell you?

You unlock your phone to a pic of Dieter sadly pointing to a large brown stain on his crisp, light blue shirt. 

Baby, this just happened.  Did you pack a backup? Nope. Do you have anything of mine here? Just your old Rage Against The Machine shirt I was wearing earlier.  Sold. I’ll take it. I’ll send Julien up to grab it.  Go have him buy a shirt. It has holes...  Nope. Now that I thought of having your scent on me all night, I need to wear it. Spray it with that perfume you use… Fine. You win. Love you baby. xoxo

You wonder why his team of publicists, assistants, and agents let Dieter style himself… or why they never remember to pack him an extra shirt.

He’s the love of your life, your uber famous partner, deserving of all of the rekindled fame, now sober and in the best place he’s been, thanks in large amounts to your influence.

You walked into his life weeks after his divorce, a man lost with a floundering career. He was too dangerous to work with, too manic, too unreliable. Then, you came in and helped pick his life up, as a favor to your friend Chrissy, his tenacious agent. You’re never supposed to fall in love with a client, but Dieter was just too irresistibly charming. You fucked him in your office after his third session. All of that hard work and student debt that earned you a psychology degree ended up getting you a diamond on your left ring finger and a dream wedding full of Hollywood elites.

You spritz the faded black shirt with your signature perfume and fold it for Julien to expeditiously deliver back to your husband. The wild life of a celebrity wife…

___

Your phone is propped up against a crystal vase that probably costs more than your first car streaming the red carpet premiere and Q&A of Dieter’s newest movie. You chose to sit this gigantic blockbuster event out, but it doesn’t mean you can’t support him from the comfort of this five star hotel room.

Your heart skips when the camera pans to Dieter getting out of the car. There he is, your celluloid husband, clad in all black, wearing the holey t shirt he just fucked you in before leaving you this afternoon.

The barriered crowd goes wild when they spot him. He smiles that megawatt smile, his signature dimples pressing into his golden skin. He’s so fucking beautiful.

You’re so proud of Dieter, you can hardly believe your husband is the star of the biggest summer film, standing tall and handsome with flash bulbs sparking across his face. You’re enamored by him, even when he’s a tiny square being live-streamed through your phone.

He joins his co-stars for a quick interview, his famous charm and humor is on full display, the crowd, host and co stars all laugh at his jokes. He truly is the golden boy of the red carpet.

You wonder if anybody else notices how he reaches for the hand of Greta, the actress who plays his wife in the film, when he realizes she’s nervous, much the same way he grabs your hand when you get anxious, being dragged to Hollywood parties and random awards shows. He’s always so thoughtful.

The interviewer asks Greta what it was like to act along with Dieter and play his wife. She laughs and blushes, Dieter’s arm rubs up and down her back, cuddling her closer to his body as she explains how wonderful of a man he is, how she felt very lucky to star in a movie with him. 

She’s absolutely stunning in her form fitting gold dress, you’re watching all of this for your husband and yet Greta keeps stealing your attention, lean, elegant, and absolutely radiant. You think to yourself how badly you want to fuck her. 

Dieter and the crew wave to the crowd and cameras thanking everybody for attending the red carpet, you smile at the sight of his gold wedding band before shutting the app down and opening the room service menu. It’ll be two hours until you hear from him after the movie. Time for an episode of Dateline.

___

You’re in a post grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup coma, the cops have just solved the triple homicide in the sleepy New England town when your phone beeps with the Dieter ding. 

Movie’s out. have to deal with after party then back to u. Miss u like crazy xoxoix !! Hi! Have fun!  Did u watch the red carpet? I did. You looked fucking hot.  Ya? I actually liked the shirt, it made me think of this afternoon… Me too baby Greta looked amazing, I was almost watching her more than you. Don’t you think she looked good? Of course I did  I think she likes you… saw a video on Twitter that makes me really see the goddamn chemistry you wouldn’t shut up about during filming. She said i smelled good tonight I told her ur the one to thank She can smell me anytime she wants. 😮 baby... Tell me D, do you miss kissing her now that filming is over? I know how you look at her, I’ve seen the previews and press appearances. Go ahead and tell me, baby.  dunno about miss, but i did like kissing her What if I were to ask you to kiss her tonight… 😮 Oh? And film it for me.  ohhhhhhhhh I can do that for you baby Go find her then.  I’ll be waiting God baby I’m glad i married you Xoxo

The giddiness that courses through your body makes a big smile bloom across your face. You sit back against the soft cushions and imagine Dieter tucking his phone in his pocket and setting forth on his mission. Waiting for it is so hot.

___

The Dieter ding buzzes. You’ve never been this excited to pick your phone up.

Dieter Bravo Attachment: 1 Movie

Your hands are practically shaking when you touch the little bubble on your phone. There, in the freeze frame stands your husband and his beautiful co-star.

You hit play.

Greta smiles at the camera before she purrs out, “Hi, Dieter says this is for you.”

She’s so beautiful in the dim video, her silver eyeshadow glistens under the flash, her big blue eyes already look blown out with lust; you wish you were the one who was about to kiss her plush lips. If she’s willing to do this for him, you don’t doubt for a second how attracted she is to your husband. Dieter winks at the camera before turning to Greta, clutching his hand on her cheek and sealing his lips against hers. It’s… so fucking hot. You can hear the distant sound of laughter and conversation of the party goers just below the sounds of Dieter and Greta’s tongues tangling. You wish you could taste both of them, now you’re really regretting staying back. The camera grows more unsteady the deeper the kiss grows. He sucks her bottom lip, you can almost feel the slight tinge of pain, god you want to feel it. Dieter pulls away, and turns Greta’s face towards the camera. 

“You want to kiss my wife, Starlet?”

“I do,” she answers. 

Dieter lets out a low chuckle before winking at the camera and ending the recording. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re already soaked from that short video.

Dieter has been so good during his sober journey, being honest and forthright when he's tempted, allowing the help of counselors and his Narcotics Anonymous sponsor. You've stood by his side as he's made huge strides to conquer his addictions. His old vices are now replaced by a new vice... sex. You're so proud of him, you want to reward him... and yourself.

Jesus Christ D.  U like? Can’t stop thinking about u watching that video baby I like it… a lot. Fuck!  Greta wants to kiss me? Think she wants u more than she wants me... I’d like to meet her. I’d like you to meet her too baby Is she busy after the party? Seems like tonight would be a good night for us to meet. Maybe she wants to come back to our room?  If that’s what u want baby It’s what I want D. Okay baby 

___

The click of the keycard entering the lock alerts you to Dieter and Greta’s arrival. You rise from the couch, smoothing out the wrinkles of your simple blue dress. 

“Hi baby,” Dieter smiles, his eyes twinkling with adoration. 

Greta follows him in, she’s even more beautiful in real life. 

“Hi,” Greta smiles, her eyes spark with lust as she looks you up and down. “Nice to finally meet you.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, “you too.”

Dieter’s head bobbles back and forth, caught up in the chemistry that sparks between his wife and his co-star.

There is so much anxiety coursing through you but the sheer desire for Dieter and Greta easily obscures any second thoughts. 

He walks over to you, planting a searing kiss on your lips and wraps you in his strong arms. 

“I missed you baby,” he says before kissing you. He pulls away, his soft, brown eyes roam your face. “Are you sure about this?”

You glance at Greta, focusing on her soft pink lips. “Extremely.”

“Excellent. Now, come here, let me show you off to her,” he grabs your hand and leads you to the middle of the room. “Want to show you my girl, starlet, go ahead and take a seat.” 

Greta sits on the sofa, settling in her dazzling golden dress. You feel underdressed compared to her beautiful designer clothing and Dieter’s close to perfect look. No paparazzi in their right mind would want pictures of you in your pale blue dress, but the way Greta’s eyes roam your body and the way Dieter runs his hands up your back and grabs your ass, you feel like you just won an Oscar.

“See her tits?” Dieter wraps his arms around your torso, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts in his hands cupping around the silk of your dress. “They feel so fucking good in my hands, they’re so soft and bounce in my face so perfectly when she rides me. You want to see her tits starlet?” 

Greta nods.

He slips the straps of your dress down your arms exposing your breasts to the cool hotel air and Greta’s eyes. 

He pulls you against his body, grinding his crotch against you moving his hands back up to cup the weight of your breasts.

Greta watches, blue eyes wide as Dieter pinches and pulls at the peaks of your nipples. 

“Watch this starlet,” he lifts his hand and softly smacks one of your breasts, causing a moan to leave your lips, your body falls even harder against his body. “She fucking loves when I do this.”

His hands snake down your torso, pushing your dress to fall down and pool at your feet leaving you bare naked for Greta to see. 

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, as her eyes travel over your naked form. 

“Isn’t she magnificent, starlet?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Quite.”

Dieter walks forward, pushing you towards the couch Greta sits on, still looking just like she walked off the red carpet, perfectly put together like a goddess.

He stops at the marble coffee table, grabbing your leg and lifting it to perch on the top. 

His wide hand runs up your leg and pets your thigh.

“You like my wife?” his voice is low and rumbly against you. There's a bit of possessiveness to it.

“I do, she’s gorgeous.”

“She is. Isn’t she?” he says with pride.

His hand moves closer to your pussy, now dripping for him and your guest. “See, starlet, this is my pussy,” your body tenses as he dips a finger through your folds, “and she’s fucking soaked for me.” He brings his finger dripping with your wet to his lips and licks it, a moan leaves his lips when he tastes you. “Come here and taste her.”

Greta rises from the couch, walking over to stand next to Dieter. She's even more exquisite up close.

His hand returns to your pussy, petting and rubbing making you weak in the knees. 

“She’s so fucking wet for us, starlet.” 

You whimper at the sensation of the hard stone of his ring rubbing against your clit. He pulls his hand away, admiring the way your wetness stretches across his fingers.

His fingers are placed against Greta’s lips. She opens her mouth wide, accepting his drenched digits, Dieter groans as she licks your juices off of his skin. 

Just four hours ago, they were watching the premiere of their movie together while you watched a rerun of Dateline… now the three of you are locked in the beginning of a ménage à trois. Isn’t it funny how Hollywood works?

__

Conversation flows easily between the three of you. You love the way Greta teases Dieter, how she laughs at your jokes. She fits perfectly in to your married comfortability.

You’re naked atop Dieter's lap, Greta sits next to you, her hand rests on your thigh lightly petting it almost as an ever present reminder of what the three of you are here to do. You can’t believe how comfortable you are in this situation. 

“Shall we take this to the bed?” Greta offers as you and her share a glass of champagne. Dieter happily sips his Topo Chico, his eyes lit with mirth watching his wife and friend enjoy each other’s company. 

“I’d like that,” you say, turning to her and downing the rest of the glass of bubbly champagne.

“Great,” she smiles, standing up and slinking off her gold dress before laying on the bed and taking her panties off.

“She is… tenacious, isn’t she?” you muse as Dieter hugs you close and kisses your shoulder. 

“She is,” he chuckles.

“You ready?” he asks.

“I’m ready,” you get up from Dieter’s lap, he rises behind you before turning you to face him.

He holds your face in his hands, his brown eyes rounded with softness, an adoring grin on his face. “You really want to do this baby?”

You bark a laugh out. “Honey, she’s already naked in bed, of course I do.”

His eyes darken, his grin replaced with a searing smolder, the same smolder that drives millions of women and men crazy, “I love you.”

“I love you too, now let me eat her cunt while you watch.”

“Jesus, alright baby,” he grabs your hand, leading you to bed before removing his shirt and pants. He takes a seat on the chair by the window to observe.

Greta lays in front of you, splayed out amongst the white sheets, her skin looks so creamy and delectable. You climb over her, smelling the sweet scent of her perfume. She giggles when you knock your nose against hers, a giddy smile is shared between the two of you before locking lips. Kissing her is different from kissing Dieter, gentler, sweeter, softer. Her tongue is much smaller, her whimpers and breaths pitch higher. You lay your body against hers, fuck, she’s just as soft as you thought. Velvety smooth and sweet. Your breasts sit against hers, your soft and her soft resting against each other. Your pussy and hers radiate heat against one another when you angle your hips against hers. You kiss a line down to her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin… she faintly tastes of sugary coconut. You look over at Dieter while kissing, he winks before you stick your tongue out and lick one of her nipples. Delicious. 

God, her tits are perfect. Perky, a little pointy, pink nipples the same exact shade of cherry blossoms, your favorite flowers. Your tongue runs across the small valley between her breasts, sliding across each nipple and back. Sucking hard against each, latching your mouth around it before letting it go with a pop. She’s writhing on the bed from your mouth and hands, your self esteem rockets higher as she loses herself under your touch. 

Her smooth body runs along yours, her delicate hands grab at your skin, clawing and pressing the harder you suck her skin. 

You kiss a trail down her tight stomach, licking grabbing her long legs and spreading them wide to reveal her perfect, milky skin surrounding her pussy. She’s drenched, absolutely dripping with her arousal, you lick up the spilled wetness on the bed sheets before licking up to her pussy. Her bright blue eyes focus on your mouth as you envelop her cunt with it. Buttery smooth and soaked, you taste the familiar hint of coconut in her wetness. Perfect. 

Your tongue dashes against her clit, flattening and swirling, treating her like the glamorous Hollywood star she is by worshiping her beautiful body and cunt. Your tongue licks a line down her sweetness before darting into her sweet hole.

You feel the bed dip behind you, your heart explodes with the thrill of feeling Dieter’s broad body behind you, a large hand digs between your thighs, dipping two thick fingers into your cunt, opening you up for him. His thumb swishes across your clit, your tongue attempts to duplicate his movements against Greta’s pussy. He angles his digits perfectly, hitting that perfect sensitive spot inside of you, causing you to dive even further against Greta’s heat, trying to take every single drop of sweet nectar from her body. You cum all over Dieter’s hands, moaning and whimpering against Greta’s skin. 

Greta clenches around you, her hips grind against your mouth as you lick an orgasm out of her. Your arms reach up to grab her tits and knead them in your hands. 

“That’s my baby,” Dieter coos, pulling his hand from your pussy and slapping it against your ass, causing a loud moan to rumble against Greta's cunt.

He pulls your hips up, your bottom meets the rigid skin of his cock. He taps his thick member against your ass before spreading your legs, you bring two fingers to Greta’s leaking hole waiting for Dieter to take you so you can take her. His thick cock enters you, stretching you with that sweet sting you love to feel. Your fingers mirror his actions, slow pumps in and out of Greta, scissoring to stretch her like Dieter stretches you matching the rhythm of his movements.

His hand splays across your back, petting your spine as he starts slowly, languidly fucking you. The three of you dance to a sensual song, grunts and moan chorusing across the sound of your fingers and Dieter’s cock. It’s beautiful.

You happily suffocate against her pussy, licking through her folds and fucking her with your fingers while Dieter fills your slippery cunt. Your moans are muffled by her skin, Dieter’s grunts echo his thrusts. 

Your body is slick with sweat, face soaked in Greta’s arousal, your cunt clenches around your husband's cock, your tongue sits steady against Greta's pussy as Dieter fucks an orgasm out of you. He holds your shaking hips close as he tells you how good you're taking him, how much he loves watching you eat Greta's pussy.

“This is all–nyugh–for you baby,” he groans, as he pulls out, Greta catches you in her arms as your body falls without his support. “Roll over, roll over baby,” he hoarsely gasps as he strokes his cock. You move to lay on your back, Dieter pulls your legs wide open right before he paints your pussy with his thick white ropes.

Dieter rises off the bed on shaky legs, before flopping his naked body into the chair. “Go on starlet, clean my girl up.”

She moves quickly, like she can’t wait to taste the two of you, settling between your thighs, lifting your legs over her delicate shoulders, spreading you wide open for her mouth. Greta’s breathy moan against your cunt makes your back arch while her tongue cleans your cunt covered in Dieter’s seed. She dips a finger into your entrance, swirling it around your sensitive walls, her one finger is nothing compared to your husband’s thick cock but god, does her gentle touch drive you wild. Her mouth seals over your clit, kissing and sucking your swollen bundle of nerves. Her head rises and lowers with each pump of your hips into the air, dancing right along with you as your pussy rises to another crescendo of an orgasm. You turn your head to look at Dieter, naked with his legs spread wide, sitting like a king on a throne. He mouths “I love you,” out of the lips you crave to kiss as your body tightens and releases with another climax.

Greta brings her lips to yours, licking into your mouth leaving the intoxicating swirl of flavors of your wetness and Dieter’s cum against your tongue. She breathily chuckles at your long exhale before laying next to you, pushing her soft curves against you and hooking her leg over yours. 

Dieter walks over, naked and cocky, your superstar husband is in full effect even in the aftershock of your threesome. He kisses Greta’s cheek and whispers “thanks starlet” before leaning over, kissing your lips and cupping your cheek. “I love you baby,” he says, big brown eyes staring into yours. You return his smile before he turns towards the minibar and grabs a Kit Kat. Greta cuddles in closer to you on the bed, sometimes it’s good to have a movie star husband. 

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

trouble, j. miller | chapter three

mob!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter summary: you meet your best friend’s girlfriend for the first time, and you’ve never seen someone shit their pants more. and joel is so fucking done with you.

chapter warnings: reader’s sole purpose is to be an agent of chaos, strong language, implication of violence from reader, abby anderson appears guys, javier encourages your behaviour and is so ACHEKUSG, google translated spanish (PLEASE correct me if it’s wrong), no beta again LOL, dare i say it soft!joel??

word count: 1817

{series masterlist}

you’re sat waiting in a cafe, foot tapping against the tiled floor to its own rhythm. the cafe is about a fifteen minute walk away from your college campus, a place that you and georgia had made your second home. the coffee was cheap so that college students could afford it, and you had to admit, it was some of the best coffee you ever had. your favourite iced coffee had just been brought over to you, alongside a cookie that was warm and gooey.

as the door opens and the bell rings, you look up and lock eyes with georgia, sending a smile her way. you’re quick to notice the buff blonde behind her, dressed in a grey shirt and black cargos, her blonde hair in a braid. damn, you’d have to ask georgia for a threesome one day…

“hey, babe!” georgia exclaims, embracing you lightly before letting go as she turns to introduce you. “this is abby anderson.”

you give abby a once over, analysing her body language, her face, her placement in regards to georgia. she appeared intimidating, but her hand was locked with georgia’s. she stood behind your friend, her body relaxed and her breathing even. abby gave you a look that was welcoming, friendly, almost as if she knew who you were and was trying to make a good impression on you.

smart move.

“it’s nice to meet you, abby.” you hold out your hand for her to shake it, and she does so. you notice the slight sweat in her palm, clear anxiety over meeting georgia’s best friend who may or may not have tried to run her friend’s ex over with a car she’s not even legally allowed to drive.

“you…you too.” she stutters out, and they both take a seat as you take a sip out of your iced coffee once you released abby’s hand.

“so, abigail-”

“-abby.” georgia cuts you off, and you give her a look with a scary grin.

“what are your intentions with georgia?”

georgia sighs your name, and gives you a pleading look. “can we please not do this? abby’s been treating me good, better than anyone else i’ve ever dated. please.” her puppy dog eyes win you over.

“fuck, fine. but i just need you to know-” you turn to abby “-you should know this too. if any harm is done, i will be under your bed with a pocket knife ready to slit your ankles if anything happens to her.” you point at georgia. your tone is patronising, mocking abby and you feel like a beast the way you feast upon her fear as she eagerly nods her head.

“good, now that’s out of the way. what do you study?” splitting your cookie in half, your lips forming an ‘o’ shape at the gooey delight, you take a bite out of one of the halves, looking abby dead in the eye.

“m…medicine.” there comes that stutter again, and you have to stifle a laugh because you’re sure georgia has filled her with stories about your behaviour towards anyone who has ever wronged her, but has then cut her own story off with “but she’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet once she knows i’m safe with you!”

you do warm up to abby throughout the next hour and a half the three of you are sat in the cafe, and you can tell she feels the same. she’s less tense, her face relaxed and no more stuttering. you see how openly affectionate she is with georgia, how soft she speaks and the admiration in her eyes for georgia’s simple existence. abby anderson is good for her, you can feel it.

the three of you walk back up to your college campus, and you catch the sight of a familiar man and his sexy porsche. joel leans against the car, arms folded over his chest, scowl on his face as he beckons you over with that little movement of his fingers.

you’re starting to feel seduced by that movement.

when you walk over to him, his head meets your level. “i’ve been waitin’ here for an hour.”

your eyebrows furrow, eyes squinting and your lips purse a little. “did you tell me you were here?”

“no.”

your eyes widen, shaking your head “so how the fuck would i know you’ve been waiting for an hour?”

“get your ass in the car.” he commands, and his eyes travel past you and seem to focus on something. you turn your body to meet where he looks, and the only reason why you pick up on it is because him and abby are staring at each other.

“what, have you never seen lesbians before? god, joel, this is embarrassing.” you roll your eyes and get into the passenger seat of his car. you don’t see the nod he gives abby, or the one who she gives back to him, because the second joel is in the driver’s seat, he’s out of the parking lot and driving to the club.

“i told you to only text me with work related things.” he starts, turning a street corner and you lick your lips when his hands clench onto the wheel.

“i do only text you work related things.”

joel gives you a quick look, his face conveying every emotion possible. “askin’ me if i think you’d win in a fight against the shark from ‘jaws’ isn’t a work related question!”

“i don’t see the problem here.” you shrug.

“you asked me at four in the mornin’!”

“and yet you responded, so you can’t complain.” you stick your tongue out at him as you soon pull into the parking lot of apocalypse, and you both get out, with joel opening any and all doors for you.

when you get to the v.i.p. section, you spot javier, and you immediately shout his name. when he turns around, he grins. “mi amor, i missed you.”

“missed you too, honeybunch.” you smile, hopping onto the bar top. “do you think i could win a fight against the shark from ‘jaws’?”

he looks at you, finger tipping up your chin with a smirk. “in a heartbeat, cariño.” his eyes scan your face, flicking back and forth as he takes in your features, and he lets out a low chuckle when you giggle.

“see, javier thinks i could win!” you shout at joel and he grumbles as he makes his way over.

he points at javier. “stop encouraging her behaviour.” he turns to you. “an’ you need to go get ready.” he grabs your hand, helping you jump off the bar top and steadying you as your feet meet the floor.

“goodbye, beautiful!” you wave javier goodbye.

“adios, bonita.” he bids, grabbing your hand from its previous position and gently kissing it, and it suddenly comes to your attention that you would not mind being between joel and javier, one fucking into your cunt and the other with his cock down your th-

“move your ass.” joel’s hand is firm against the back of your neck, but there’s something gentle about the way he touches you, hesitant almost. he guides you to the room with all the dancers in, and you make yourself at home, saying hi to adele, lucy, chelsea, destiny, and the rest of the girls as you get ready for your shift.

____

“i was thinking-”

“that’s not good.” joel cuts you off. you had barged into his office, lying down on his sofa and talking to him like he was your therapist.

your head snaps towards him, mouth agape in shock. “rude!” you throw a decorative pillow at him which he swiftly dodges, even with his back turned to you as he sorts through paperwork. “as i was saying before i was interrupted, i was thinking that you order me pizza.”

joel’s chair swivels round to face you. “an’ why would i do that when i’ve got chefs here?”

you groan. “‘cause i want a real greasy pizza from the place down the street.”

“tough shit, now get to workin’.” you whine at his words, kicking your legs against the sofa like a spoiled toddler as you reluctantly get off of it and walk out of his office.

the rest of your shift goes by in a breeze. it’s not busy tonight, so you spend most of the time by the bar flirting with javier. he even pours you a shot and shows you the blind spot, pulling you close to him when you take the shot like a champ.

the guests tonight were easy. you had gained a lot of money in tips, and you, destiny, and lucy were sat counting your tips at the bar by the end of the night. you were stood behind the bar with javier, leaning your chest against it and you knew he was getting a good view of your ass because you had purposely put yourself in this position.

“mama’s done good tonight!” destiny cheers, throwing her hands up in the air, her knotless braids swinging as she does so.

“same here!” lucy squeals and you join too. you had to have javi recount your money just to make sure you’d done it right.

“feeling like a millionaire already.” the shout causes the girls to laugh, and javier shakes his head with a smile. he gently pats your ass, telling you to go change so you can sleep.

you do as he says, linking arms with destiny and lucy as you change into your original clothes once you get back to the dancer’s room. you’re sat with adele, your head resting on her shoulder like a child with her mother when joel’s voice baritones through the door demanding you.

you give a swift kiss to adele’s cheek, bidding your departure to the girls before stepping out of the room.

when you look at joel, you catch sight of something in his hands. a medium sized pizza box, the order written on the top. just a plain cheese. you feel a smile itching its way onto your face because he probably did it based off the basics but a cheese pizza was your favourite kind.

“i did this so you’d shut up for once in your damn life.”

“you love when i talk.” you grab the pizza box out of his hands. “thank you.”

his hands return to the back your neck, but this time you swear you feel his fingers gently stroke the skin but you don’t want to say anything, too scared he might strip you of your pizza privileges.

so you prevent the quip of your lips ready to perk up, swallowing down your happiness as you make your way to his car, and start to wonder if maybe you should annoy him more often if it meant you got free food.

yeah, maybe you should.

____

a/n: reader who does not give a fuck and says what she wants x joel who’s just trying to commit a life of crime but there’s a menace in his way (ft. javier peña seducing reader and reader flirting with him)

btw guys if u want to be added (or taken off) my taglist pls let me know!! and if ur name is in white it’s bc i couldn’t find ur blog :((

taglist:

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