#angel answers your prayers

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Four panels from Trigun Maximum. The first is solid black with only the white text of Wolfwood's thoughts, saying "I beg you... please..." The second panel, framed between two solid black panels, shows Wolfwood's face, eyes wide and teeth bared, as he falls back in a spray of blood, looking terrified. The third panel, the next solid black one, contains the thoughts, "All I wanted was to protect the kids..." The fourth panel is a much larger solid black panel with Wolfwood's thoughts trailing across it. "God... oh my lord... can a murderer... never change...? Is there no forgiveness for the sins of my past? Am I..." End ID.]

Wolfwood's crisis of faith is so iconic--he's in darkness, he's stripped down to his core where we can see a man who truly loves the kids he's trying to protect and desperately longs for redemption, he calls out to God, and God doesn't answer...

...but Vash does.

[ID: a double-page spread from Trigun Maximum. Wolfwood is slumped over the Punisher on an utterly blood-soaked ground. Vash is standing in front of him, though hardly recognizable. His right arm is stretched protectively over Wolfwood and his hand is clenched, palm-out, visibly glowing. The skin of his arm is peeling off into a feel small wings. Much of the rest of his body seems to have exploded into huge wings and leaves that are twisted around the bullets that they've caught out of midair. Vash's face is mostly hidden under his hair and shadows, but you can see his eyes glowing solid white. He's saying, "No, you are not lost... Wolfwood!" End ID.]

[cheemken]

Yeah the concept with all the Champions dying makes more sense if it was apart of the Rebellion AU. Can make it more devastating for Diantha if the Kalos League tells her how she died

But damn, we won’t have the Lance, Clair and Silver reunion :(

But we can have the “Lance finds out his cousin and son were killed because they were important to him” scenario instead >:). Imagine he eventually asks where Clair is, or where Silver is

Also yeah I intended for Hau and Geeta to be killed as well, I just couldn’t think of a way for them to die lol

But Hau is still champion, and I like what you did with Geeta. Having her as the villain for her region. Love me some twist villain characters

We can also go with the other scenario if you like her being the good guy better. Ma’am dipped, left Nemona in charge (a teenager btw), and came back months later with a fucking killer team. Ready to avenge her soulmate and friends with mons she specifically trained to go for the kill

Ouughfhchfhfjdhsn your honour Lance having to find out everyone he loves is dead😭😭 his wife and kids and his cousin man that's gotta fuck him up imagine him finding out that his alt self is still alive in this universe but he's a prisoner of RR, a hollow shell of a man he once was, a man who lost everything, who was powerless to save everyone and ough,,,, OUGH™

Imagine him on the verge of a meltdown too, having to find out how everyone else died, and how he's still alive, still breathing somewhere, aware of the bloodshed happening around him, but was already too broken to do anything, powerless, dead in a way that he was alive yet mourned for not his loved ones but also for himself.

And oughfhfhf villain Geeta my beloved holy shit can you imagine Geeta meeting her alt self, and she's there w RR maybe, or in her office at the league, and this is so so so fucking self indulgent on my part bc I have this lil au abt Geeta and Diantha as well, but like,,,, ough,,,,, imagine Alt Geeta smirking at Geeta tho, telling her how Diantha died, how her angel fell from grace, how her screams echoed within the chambers, how she was killed by a pack of Houndoom. Geeta couldn't fucking believe what she fucking heard man, her own hands were shaking like crazy, the want to punch and go batshit on Alt Geeta fucking flared, and Alt Geeta was there going, "what are you so mad about? If anything, we took her away from that incompetent dragon tamer she calls her husband." Then she mutters under her breath, "unfortunately, even in her final moments she still chose him."

And ofc, Geeta's there telling Alt that Diantha didn't deserve that, she didn't deserve to die, none of them deserves to die. Then Alt Geeta gives her this dark af glare as she stands from her seat, stalking towards Geeta, almost growling, "if I can't have her then no one can."

Your honour they make me so fucking ill I can't hcmxbxmx

Imagine how that mustve been for Diantha tho, hearing from Drasna how her alt self was killed, how it was Geeta who killed her, and it's by a pack of Houndoom, can you imagine how hurt Dia must've been w that tho, how much it'll fuck her up, bc she knows its not her Geeta who did it, it's the one in this universe, but man she knows she just fucking knows she entrusted the same three people about that trauma of hers, about her past: Drasna, Geeta, and Lance. Like chdmxbnd your honour please😭😭

But either way, Geeta's going through it™ lmfao

W Hau tho,,, y'know imagine if he gets killed by an Ultra Beast, maybe Nihilego bc that's the one w Lusamine right?? That or like,, the cockroach looking one, Pheromosa?? I'm so sorry I'm not familiar w the Ultra Beasts except for Guzzlord and Buzzwole (bc this one's in unite lmao). But anyways, idk, like,,, Lusamine maybe killing Hau, bc ofc, he's friends w her children, imagine her killing off Hau infront of Gladion and Lillie tho, to show them what happens if they defy her again and oughchmdhx that's fucked up your honour Gladion would go apeshit too lmfaooo

[rosecartridge]

Allison tag dump

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[kissitbttr]

“i’m sorry baby” simon murmurs against your warm skin, large hand coming up to palm your breast under the material of your shirt as he watches you squirm under his hold, fingers kneading your nipple.

“you hurt me, si…” you whine, doe eyes looking at him as you sniffle. “i hate you”

he hums with a nod, peeling your shirt off just enough to expose your naked chest. “i know baby, i know.. was a dick to you, yeah?”

you don’t answer, covering your face with your hands as he continues to pepper kisses down to your stomach. your quiet sobs make simon’s heart breaks.

“fucking asshole”

that almost makes him laugh, but he doesn’t. only smiles. “i was”

“a bastard you are”

he kisses your clothed cunt. “i agree.”

you shudder at the contact, whining. “careful. i just waxed there. I’m a little sensitive.”

he groans. he swears you’re doing that on purpose. “i will sweetheart.”

his fingers move to pull your laced panties down, ever so slowly. his hunger increases the moment his brown eyes settled on your pretty wet pussy.

“christ” he breathes out. “gonna make it up to you, pretty girl. i promise.” he sits up on his knees, looking down at you. glossy eyes looking up at him with a small pout formed on your lips. his cock growing hard under his briefs

‘fuck, don’t look at me like that’ he thinks to himself

puffing out a scoff, you reply “doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for this si”

he knows. he hurt you. his pretty girl. he made you cry and that’s something he would never forgive himself too. that fight was stupid, he knows that now.

“i know, sweetheart” he pulls the waistband of his boxers slightly, just enough to take his hard cock out before hovering your body. a small gasp escapes your lips when his the tip of his shaft make a brief contact against your cunt. “i didn’t mean to make you cry. was a proper dick. hurting my baby like that, yeah? what kind of a man am i.”

he gives a soft kiss on your lips in which you hum, eyes fluttering shut. he wraps his hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before guiding it to your wet entrance while putting his other palm beside your head to support his weight.

you bite down your lower lip trying to suppress a moan when he slides the tip up and down your cunt. mumbling a low ‘fuck’ at the slicky sound of your wet cunt. another loud groan rumbles off his chest when his cock slips in. simon stays still for a while before he sits up straight, hooking his hands underneath your knees, telling you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“gonna fuck you real good, ma” the term of endearment almost makes you cum. as he begins to rock his hips back and forth. he watches you arch your back, soft hands gripping around your tits with pretty moans falling off your lips like an angelic prayer. he growls at the perfect sight, making him thrust even faster.

“show you how sorry i am”

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Love (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.

Word Count: 1,323

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.

Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.

He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.

"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.

She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.

"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.

"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."

"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know what love is."

Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.

"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."

Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.

"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."

"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."

"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.

"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."

"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"

Alastor looked up from his glass.

"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."

"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.

"Actually, I do."

Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.

"Alastor! You've been in love!?"

Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.

"Yes."

Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.

"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.

"It was a long time ago."

Alastor took a long sip from his glass.

"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.

"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."

He trailed off, taking a breath.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.

Alastor shook his head.

"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.

Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."

"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"

"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."

"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."

"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"

"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."

Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.

"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."

Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"

"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."

"Then wh-"

"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"

"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.

"I'm sorry."

Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"

"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.

Charlie turned to him.

"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."

"Right you are, my dear."

"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"

Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."

"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."

"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."

"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"

"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."

The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.

"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.

"Y/n."

It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.

"Her name was Y/n."

[reidsfilm]

LIKE A GODDAMN PRAYER — LOGAN HOWLETT

WARNINGS: SMUT!!! (18+) age-gap (the reader is over 18+) p in v (wrap it up peeps) dirty talk, soft dom! logan, has no plot whatsoever, just straight-up filth petnames: baby, sweetheart, angel, darling, etc. fluff at the end. a tad bit of degarding.

WORD COUNT : 2k

Notes: i'm just now realizing how hot hugh jackman is.

Logan Howlett who swore he wouldn't stain a beautiful thing like you. With your sweet smiles, wide eyes, and flushed apple cheeks. He wouldn't, but the allure of you was too tempting.

And a visit to give him a basket of cookies led to something that couldn't be erased. But now, he wasn't sure if he wanted it removed at all.

Here you were, laying sprawled out underneath him, clothes strewn in piles on the floor, only a pair of white lacy panties covering your sweet pussy. God, it made his boxers feel all the tighter like they were suffocating him, literally and figuratively.

''Look at you... so pretty for me, huh?'' He cooed as his large and rough hand came up to grope at your tits, watching as they spilled between the gaps of his fingers. His eyes darkened further at the sight. A whiny moan left your lips as you wriggled underneath him, pushing your chest up, seeking more.

''S'okay... I got you. Gonna make you feel real good, darlin'.'' And you could only manage a whine, unable to form any words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. Logan tsked at you, head tilting to the side as he looked at you, eyes flickering from your flushed chest back up to your face, ''Haven't even fucked you yet, and your already going dumb?''

You nodded, slotting your bottom lip between your teeth, and Logan practically growled at the sight as his hand moved down, caressing your ribs, over your stomach, fingertips grazing against your belly button before moving lower.

Your breath hitched as he teased at the waistband of your panties, not quite going further and that made you only feel more desperate, and needy. ''These are cute. Did you wear them on purpose?'' He questioned, snapping it against your skin and eliciting a moan from your lips. ''Answer me, pretty angel.''

The nicknames were doing nothing to help the ache between your legs, instinctively making you rub your thighs together. ''Y-Yeah...'' You replied and he hummed.

''Can I take 'em off?'' And you wasted no time in nodding, bobbing your head up and down. God if you weren't so deeply rooted in this, you would've found yourself pathetic. And maybe you were, but you couldn't care less. You just wanted him. Like he was the answer to all your prayers. Someone you wouldn't think twice about listening to or worshipping.

You were a hundred percent sure this man was a God.

''Yeah, yeah please.'' You were quick to say and Logan didn't need more confirmation than that before he shuffled down a bit. His large hands planted on each side of your hips, ''Lift your hips f'me.'' And you did as he said, lifting up a bit from the soft mattress and allowing him to grip onto the material, dragging it down.

And he did it, oh so slowly. Tease.

''Logan...'' You whined as you watched him, how he kept those hazel eyes locked on your own pair as he tugged them down. ''Patience is a virtue.'' And you wanted to roll your eyes at the words as if you hadn't heard those before. You weren't in the mood for patience, not at all.

You just wanted him to fuck you until you could barely think straight.

''I'm not a patient person.'' You muttered as he slid them down to your ankles, before tossing them somewhere on the floor. His eyes met yours once more, ''Figures.'' He chuckles as he moves closer, grabbing underneath your thighs, and spreading your legs.

His eyes feast upon the sight of your glistening and awaiting pussy. His hazel eyes darken a tad as he takes you in. The prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes upon, and he almost feels ashamed for a split second. A man like him, who's brutal and lives within the darkness of his life, seeing something so eternal like you, it feels illegal.

Like you a forbidden fruit he shouldn't even have laid eyes on to begin with. But your voice pulls him from the depths of his mind.

''Something wrong? Am I not—'' He doesn't even let you finish your sentence, because god forbid something as angelic as you get to be insecure about yourself. ''No... no no. Just admiring the pretty sight laid before me.''

And you blush at his words, biting your lip. ''Yeah? Well if it's such a pretty sight, fuck me.'' You tried to sound confident, you really did. But the crack in your voice, the obvious desire yet nervousness was extremely evident.

And Logan was quick to catch onto it, a smirk gracing his lips, spurring the man on leaving any regret or anything like that behind as he dragged you closer to him by your thighs, making you let out a small squeal. ''Oh, I'll fuck you. Gonna make this pussy sing, yeah?''

He had a silver tongue on him, that's for sure. And it only made you wetter, if that was even possible. His hand slid down between your legs, making you shiver as his thick fingers inched closer to where you needed him most. And you spread your legs wider, opening up more for him.

Logan's rough, calloused fingers brushed against your slick folds, feeling the heat radiating from your core. He groaned at the sensation, his own desire rising rapidly. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already, darlin'," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

You whimpered, arching your back as Logan's fingers teased your entrance, not quite entering you but applying delicious pressure. "Please, Logan," you pleaded, your voice breathy and needy. "I need you."

Logan chuckled darkly, his eyes smoldering as he took in the sight of you sprawled out before him, your body on display, your breasts heaving with each shallow breath.

Logan's fingers continued their torturous teasing, circling your entrance without delving inside. He leaned down, his stubble grazing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your legs.

"Patience, sweetheart," he murmured against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers up your spine. "I wanna savor this moment with you. Make it good for you."

You whined, your hands fisting in the sheets beneath you as you tried to arch into Logan's touch. "Logan, please," you begged, your voice high and desperate. "I can't take it anymore. I need you inside me."

Logan hummed, the vibrations traveling through your body. "So impatient," he chided, but there was no real disapproval in his tone. "Alright, darlin', I'll give you what you want."

He got to removing his boxers, and you swore your eyes were about to pop out of their sockets at the sight of him. His cock was so thick, fat, and decorated with veins. He was definitely a god, no going back on that now.

He shifted, positioning himself between your spread legs. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, could see the hunger in his eyes as he looked down at you. "You're fuckin' beautiful like this," he said, his voice low and rough. "Spread out for me, so eager for my cock."

You blushed at his words, but the embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the desire coursing through your veins. You needed him, needed to feel him inside you, needed to be filled and stretched and claimed by this man who had captured your heart, soul, and body.

Logan reached down, grasping his hard length in his hand. He stroked himself a few times, his eyes never leaving your face. "You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there.

You nodded frantically, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you breathed. "God, yes, Logan. Please, just fuck me already."

Logan chuckled, positioning himself at your entrance. "As you wish," he said, and then he was pushing forward, his thick length sliding into your slick heat inch by inch.

You cried out, your head falling back against the pillow as you felt Logan fill you up. He was so big, stretching you most deliciously, and you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he sank deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan groaned as he felt your tight warm heat envelop him, your walls clenching around his shaft as he bottomed out inside you. "Fuck, darlin'," he grunted, his hips stilling for a moment as he savored the sensation. "You're so fuckin' tight."

You whimpered beneath him, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "Logan," you gasped, your hips rocking slightly as you adjusted to his size. "You're so big. I can feel you everywhere."

Logan chuckled breathlessly, his forehead pressing against yours as he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Take my cock. Fuck, you feel so good."

You moaned, your head falling back against the pillow as Logan set a steady rhythm, his hips snapping forward in a way that had him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every thrust. "Yes, just like that," you gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper.

Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he increased his pace, driving into you harder and faster. The room filled with the sounds of your bodies coming together, the slap of skin on skin, your labored breaths, and needy moans.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last," Logan grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt his orgasm building. "You feel too fuckin' good, darlin'. Gonna fill this pretty pussy up."

You cried out, your body tensing as you felt your own release approaching. "Yes, Logan, yes," you chanted, your nails raking down his back. "Come inside me. I want to feel you come."

With a final, brutal thrust, Logan buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his cum into your awaiting womb. You screamed, your body shaking as your own orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down around Logan's shaft, milking him for every last drop.

You stayed like that for a moment, Logan's weight pressing down on you as you both struggled to catch your breath. Finally, he rolled off of you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"That was...'' Logan trailed off, large hand caressing against your back.

''Amazing.'' You finished the sentence for him, head snuggling up against his chest, his chest hair tickling against your cheek. Your legs were still twitching, spasming at the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Logan's chest rumbled with a chuckle, his arm tightening around you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah, it was," he agreed, his voice a low, satisfied growl. "You're amazing. Fuckin' incredible."

You felt yourself blush at his words, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "You're not so bad yourself," you teased, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "For an old man."

Logan scoffed, his hand coming up to tickle your side. "Old man? I'll show you who's an old man," he threatened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I can go again, you know. And again, and again."

You giggled, squirming in his arms as his fingers danced over your ribs. "I'm sure you can," you said, your voice breathless with laughter. "But I think I need a break first. You kind of wrecked me."

Logan's expression softened, his hand stilling on your skin. "Sorry, darlin'," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "I didn't mean to be too rough."

You shook your head, reaching up to cover his hand with your own. "No, it was perfect," you assured him, your eyes locking with his. "I loved every second of it."

Logan's gaze searched your face for a moment as if trying to determine the truth of your words. Whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, because he leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

When he pulled back, his eyes were warm and soft, a rare vulnerability shining through. "You're something else, angel," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm fuckin' grateful for it."

Your heart swelled at his words, your own eyes growing misty with emotion. "I'm the lucky one," you whispered, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.

And you were, having a man such as himself, making you reach heights you never thought you would, says a lot. And you'd seek him out more, eager and needing more of him.

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Alastor x fem! reader

Background: (Y/N) is the elder Morningstar, and wants to fix her relationship with her dad. But her dad hates her boyfriend.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 - Finale

Allusions to sex, actual sex, angel being angel, and cannibalism

_____

Angel spit out his drink, "You're with Alastor?!"

"Yeah, thoughts?"

"And prayers, girl," Angel could never imagine a sweet girl like (Y/N) getting it on with the Radio Demon himself.

But everyone has their kinks, he supposed.

Alastor manifested behind her, and she immediately felt his presence. Pressing herself against him, he leaned into her warmth and kept his arms around her shoulders.

"How was your day, mon amour?"

"It'll be even better," She trailed off, turning around to face him, "when we meet my dad for dinner."

Silence.

And not even radio silence.

"Not to be rash, but I'm sure your father would sooner see my head on a pike than on my body," Alastor adored the fact that she was mending their bond, even more so when Lucifer makes the effort.

But announcing their relationship to him?

He could see it ending in flames.

"I know you two don't get along, but I thought a nice dinner might smooth things over."

"And if he disapproves of us?" He lifted her head upwards with his finger, bemused as to what her answer may be.

"Then he'll have to get used to it," (Y/N) replied, sending a shiver of excitement up his spine.

Only a feeling that the she-devil he was utterly obsessed with could provide.

"Ugh, can you guys go fuck somewhere else?" Angel said, "or at all? I can't imagine going a lifetime without dick."

Alastors eye twitch, "now that's our business, isn't it?"

"Okay, okay," Charlie spoke up, "you guys go get ready."

Charlie couldn't help but notice the change in Alastor. It had only been a few months, but being in her sisters presence alone has made him kind. Sure, the both of them would skin someone alive over an insult, but Alastor would rip out his own eyes if (Y/N) asked.

A perfect match.

(Y/N) dawned a black dress with a pearl necklace that Alastor bought for her. Well, she thinks he bought it but he actually stole it off of a fresh kill.

How sweet.

"Pumpkin! Oh look at you! You're as radiant as ever!" Lucifer fawned over his daughter as they made it to the restaurant, making it a point to ignore the red demon behind her.

"Catching strays?" Lucifer gestured to him.

"Lovely to see you again," Alastor retorted.

"Dad, why don't we go inside? And Alastor will be joining us," now, Lucifer didn't forget what he said. He recognized that the fearsome deer demon had the intention of claiming Princess (Y/N) as his own, but did his daughter return such feelings?

Honestly, Lucifer feared that.

Not it being Alastor persay, but his little girls being hurt.

He knew how awful it felt to go through the divorce with Lilith, and then her disappearance.

He didn't ever want his daughters to feel that way.

"So, Alastor, what do you do again?"

"I have a radio broadcast. Your daughter has actually helped me repair the studio after the attack," He laid his land on hers.

And Lucifer picked up Alastors hand.

And placed it away from hers.

"Uh, dad-"

"Look, if you two are fucking, don't tell me."

"Dad!" Her face burned red, "we aren't-that's not. . .I love Alastor, and he loves me. I want you to accept us both."

"Love? Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pumpkin, I don't think-"

"I'm not a little kid," She interrupted, "I'm a grown woman, and I'm able to make my own decisions. I want to be with Alastor because I love him. You may not think I know what love is, but I know it's what I feel with Alastor."

That's when he saw it.

That look.

Whilst (Y/N) was defending herself, defending their love, Alastor looked at her. Only her. And it was like he was staring at the nebula itself, seeing all its beauty in the Heir of Hell. His smile faltered, closing his mouth, and his eyes softened.

It's the same look that he used to give Lilith.

"If I ever hear that you've made her cry, or even laid a single hand upon her," Lucifer stared him down, "I'll make you disappear."

"A man true to his word. Looks like we have something in common," Alastor agreed, his hand back on hers. She gave him a smile, one that reminded him of Lilith.

The rest of dinner went off without any incidents. The small jab here and there, but no one died, and no one was stabbed. Lucifer learned more about his daughters business and how she lit up talking about it.

"You hardly ate, Alastor. Is something wrong?" (Y/N) asked when her father went to the restroom.

"Oh no, my dear. Just hungry for something else, is all," His eyes raked up her form, earning a cough from the she-devil.

Honestly, she didn't know where he was on his spectrum. She was fine never even being intimate, so long as he was happy, but this spark in his eyes lit a fire within her.

"O-oh. . .are you sure?" Believe it or not, (Y/N) had only had sex twice and both times she'd call it lackluster.

"I don't want you to force yourself if you don't want to," oh how innocent she was. Honestly, Alastor assumed he was aroace before he met the she-devil. Her ferocity - her chaos in fights, her genuine kindness, and her soul - itself brought out that spark.

There are moments where the carnal desire needs to be satisfied.

"Mon cher, I'd never ask if I didn't mean it."

That look, it made her softly gasp.

"Alast-"

"Ew."

Right.

Lucifer.

He showed up from his restroom break and found the pair giving eachother "fuck me" eyes.

"Could I eat my dinner without you groping my child?" Lucifer hissed, despite Alastor only touching her hand.

He blinked, thinking how he's never even groped a woman.

"Maybe."

Sick bastard.

_ _ _ ☆ _ _ _

"Fuck! Alastor!"

(Y/N) had never cum before, so Alastor being her first to ever do so and smiling away at her quivering legs made it so much better.

"Oh fuck. . ." She moaned weakly, his tongue slithering in and out of her to lick up every last drop.

"Al. . ." She was breathless, staring at his strained member. Reaching up to unzip his pants, he tutted as he grabbed her wrist.

"Al?"

"It's about you. Don't worry about me, amour," He purred, kissing the bite marks on her thighs.

"But you-"

Before she could detest further, wishing to satisfy him, the door opened.

"Oh my God, they were right! Alastor, you sly dog," Angel Dust was at the door, and Alastor quickly covered his beloveds' body with the covers before his horns started to grow and his back stretched.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Not before you make love to me, you're not," still in his demonic form, (Y/N) blew a gust of wind to slam the door shut.

Her body displayed on the bed, Alastor agreed.

"And stay in that form. It suits you."

[iluvmattsbeard]

down on my knees (m.s)

master list

nerd!matt x popular!reader

warnings: smut/oral sex (fem receiving)

preview: you assume matt is what he appears to be. a virgin nerd with no experience. when helping you study, you have him down on his knees, pleading to prove to you, he can take you there.

a/n: sorry i watched deadpool and wolverine. this song with the scene had me creaming. listen as you read. OKAY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. LIKES, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED. 🤍

everyone knew who you were. when your name is spoken, it's always the same thing said. you basically had a trance on everyone, especially a specific individual. this person would freeze up more than anyone else when you're around. the hold you have on this person is unbearable, even though you've never spoke to each other. the school's biggest nerd and easy target, Matt Sturniolo. it was no shock you haven't spoke to him. you never even blinked an eye at him. you two were in two different worlds, you had no business ever speaking to him and he for sure felt like he had no place to even be near you.

it's not like you choose to not know who he is. he doesn't put himself out there, he has no friends, and he's always just quiet. the only friends he had were his triplet brothers. you knew who Chris was because of his reputation in sports and you knew Nick because he was the talk of the school ever since he came out. like mentioned, Matt was absolutely hooked onto you. when you would enter the classroom, he feels his palms sweat and his eyes are glued onto you like he's seen an angel from heaven.

despite what everyone says about you, how mean, how stuck up, and how careless you can be, in his head, you're more than that. he blocks out all the negativity said about you and in his head, he has some delusion that he could figure you out. he feels deep down, there's more to you than your rough persona.

right now, it was lunch time. Matt is sat with his brothers and their friends. Chris and Nick, despite how different they are from Matt, they've always vowed to never let Matt be alone. they try to include him in everything but, he chooses to sit there in silence. he knew deep down he didn't fit in and it's obvious his brothers' friends also knew that.

he sits there quietly as he pokes at his food. his attention is soon caught, it's like he has a radar, he looks up slightly as you walk past their table. you were with your friends, talking to them as you head over to your table. for Matt, it was all in slow motion as you walked by. he swears he can see your skin glisten and the way your hair bounced, he was in a trance. "dude." he instantly gets brought back to reality when he hears Chris' voice, "you're staring- again." Matt looks back down at his food as he swallows slightly, "was I?" he asks quietly, a bit embarrassed he's been caught. this wasn't the first time though.

"yes. what is your obsession with her? you've never even spoke to her." Chris utters with a bit of food in his mouth. Matt looks at him with a bit of disgust, "can you swallow your food first?" Matt suggests, which makes Chris chuckle and swallow his food. "okay well, what is your obsession with her?" he repeats his question, "you've never talked to her and trust me, she's way out of your league." he adds on, making Matt tense up a bit. it was true, he really didn't belong in your world. it would make no sense, the two of you colliding. "i'd save yourself the heart break." Chris speaks up again.

"how would you know?" Matt mutters, making the brother raise an eyebrow slightly, "how do I know what?" he asks confused. "how do you know she would break my heart? if I haven't even tried?" Matt asks stupidly. he knew the answer already but once again, a little part of him believes he could break down your walls if he just had the confidence. Chris laughs at his question, "no offence but, look at you." he pauses glancing over at me, "now look at her. she would crush you." he finishes as he stuffs his mouth again. there was no point in Matt continuing this conversation. Matt looks over at you and sighs. "heaven help me." he thought to himself.

later that day, Matt walks into his final class, which to his delight, you were in. he makes his way to the back of the class, sitting down in his usual seat. he begins to take out his notebook and textbook as he lets out a quiet breath. you walk in, once again, Matt's eyes land on you and he blocks out everything else. as he watches your every move, he expects you to just walk to your usual seat in the front. he then sees you walk down his aisle, he swears he's just imagining things. you're looking right at him, making his heart stop. eventually, he gets knocked from his trance as you sit in the seat next to him.

"no one sits here right?" you ask Matt, not even looking over at him. he gulps as he begins to speak up, "n-no." he manages to let out. Matt shuts his eyes and turns to face the front. he feels like he sounded like a loser. you sit there silently as you secretly go on your phone while the class starts. Matt can't help but take small glances at you. he felt nervous even though you were just minding your own business. "what is going on?" he thought to himself. why were you suddenly sitting in the back? right next to him? he shakes off the questions as he tries his best to focus on the teacher's voice.

as days go by, Matt notices you continuing to choose to sit in the back, right next to him. it was like a dream but, still no words exchanged between you two but the first day you sat there. where he thought he sounded like an idiot, even though all he said was no to your question. Matt sits there quietly, he notices you dozed off into your arms as the teacher speaks. he can’t help but look at you in admiration. you looked peaceful; sleeping angel like. you flutter your eyes open, catching his gaze as you whisper groggily, "were you just watching me sleep?" you ask sitting up. his eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head, "what- no- I was just- nervous for you." he lets out panicked. you laugh quietly while you shake your head, "relax, it was just a question." you say surprisingly okay with catching him just now.

Matt feels his heart racing as he lets out an exhale of relief. "did I miss anything important?" you ask looking at him. was this really happening? were you really actually trying to have a conversation with him? "u-uh... not really." he mutters nervously. "okay that's good. i'm like very behind in this class." you say which, it's like the teacher heard you, the teacher speaks up, "Y/n, Matt, I need to talk to you both at the end of the class." Mr. Lionel says. you groan quietly before speaking up, "okay..." Matt's head is racing. why did he have to speak to the both of you? the BOTH of you...

when the final bell rings, you and Matt get up at the same time, heading over to the front of the class. you both stop in front of Mr. Lionel's desk as you let out a sigh, "what's it about?" you ask not enthused at all. he clears his throat, "well, Y/n, i'm sure you're aware that your grade in this class isn't the best." he starts off, "Matt here, can help you bring that grade up if you're willing." you look over at Matt, your eyes trailing down his figure slowly. he gulps as he watches you analyze him, "what is she thinking?" he thought to himself.

you look back at your teacher before nodding and speaking up, "alright." if Matt's heart was racing before, it is now bouncing off the walls. alright? that's all you had to say? no argument?

Mr. Lionel looks over at Matt, "you okay with that Matt?" he asks, snapping him back to reality, "what? uh- y-yeah." Matt responds sheepishly, his cheeks a bit flustered. "great. you two speak to each other and come up with an arrangement that's good for the both of you." the teacher says, making you both nod. he greets you and Matt goodbye, Matt instantly walking out the classroom. he can't believe he was just assigned to tutor you, and YOU agreed. he continues walking down the hall before he hears his name being called.

"Matt!" he turns around quickly before locking eyes on you, heading over to catch up to him. he freezes in his place as he stutters out, "y-yeah?" he feels like his heart can't catch a break. "you want to come over tonight?" you ask so casually. meanwhile, Matt feels like he's about to explode. "w-what?" he asks a bit dazed. "to study." you add on with a small laugh. he blinks repeatedly before having the courage to respond, "yes!" he clears his throat, "yes... I would like that." he says, trying to push down his eagerness. "okay. give me your phone." you say, no question, he instantly pulls out his phone, fumbling a bit before he hands it to you.

you type in your number and send yourself a text so that you can receive his number as well. you hand back his phone before pulling out your own, "alright i'll text you the address. come over at like 5. that's when my parents aren't home." you say making him choke up, "w-what?" Matt asks nervously but you just wave at him and walk away.

as he gets in his car, he sits there still in disbelief. it's like his prayers have been answered. he also doesn't want to get his hopes up though. it's just tutoring, right? he's still confused by why you wanted him there without your parents home. it made his heart race once more. he gets pulled out from his thoughts as Chris and Nick stumble into the mini van. Matt clears his throat as he puts on his seat belt, "can you drive me to the mall later?" Chris asks as he puts on his own seat belt. "can't." Matt says bluntly, his younger brother's eyes widening slightly, "what- why?" he asks caught off guard. "i'm going to tutor someone later." Matt says, sparing the details but, that's all Chris had to know to not question even further. it's no surprise to him that Matt has to tutor someone. Matt was the smartest person he knew.

*time skip*

after spraying some cologne on himself, he walks out his room and out the house. when he's settled into the driver's seat, he pulls out his phone and puts your address into the GPS. he was still replaying your words earlier about how your parents would be out. his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly as he makes his way to your house.

when he's arrived, he takes the key out of the ignition. he lets out a small sigh, his heart pounding at the fact he's actually about to be with you, alone. he gets out the car and makes his way up your pathway. he rings the doorbell, waiting anxiously as he looks around. nice house he thought to himself. after a bit, you open the door. Matt's eyes immediately running down your figure. you were in a matching pajama set. his heart stops, he was now feeling self conscious at the fact he's wearing a button up shirt. "hey, come in." you say as you open the door more for him to walk in. he steps inside nervously as he looks around. "come, my room is upstairs." you speak, already heading up the stairs. he follows closely behind you.

*time skip*

you both have been sat on your bed as you lay on your stomach, flipping through the text book. "s-so... do you understand it?" Matt asks, hoping he's done a good job at explaining the subject. you look at him with a blank expression, "no." you let out bluntly, a small laugh following afterwards. "o-oh well- I can explain it again-." he gets cut off by you, "no it's fine. this is hopeless." you sigh softly, closing your text book. "my brain hurts." you add on. Matt sits there, tensing up a bit as he clears his throat, "oh- w-well... maybe some other time." he says closing his text book. you two have been going over the subject for like a hour.

"you're leaving?" you ask curiously. Matt looks at you as he stuffs his textbook into his bag, "um... well I was assuming you were done..." he admits quietly. "oh I just thought we were taking a break." you chuckle, "but alright." he straightens up as he quickly chimes in, "oh that works too." not wanting to leave just yet. you sit up, now legs crossed as you look at him, "so... why did you want me over while your parents are gone?" he asks, gulping a bit. "no distractions." you respond casually. he was amazed by how easily you can speak. he feels like he has a lump in his throat. "do you always wear those button up shirts to tutor?" you ask tilting your head a bit. "uh... no- but- I just wanted to wear something nice." he stutters out nervously. did you think it was bad? your eyes trail over his shirt, "it's nice. suits you." you compliment. he didn't know if that was a good thing or bad thing. "dressing up for me or something?" you ask. "u-uh well- kind of- yes..." he sighs in defeat.

"that's sweet." you say with no emotion in your voice. "did you think this was going to go somewhere?" you ask bluntly. his eyes widen a bit, "what? what's that supposed to mean?" he asks a bit startled. "like were you expecting something out of this?" you ask, "like a handy or a blowjob or what?" the question makes his eyes widen even more, "what? of course not!" he responds panicked, "t-that's not- I- I wasn't even thinking that." he says flustered. you chuckle softly, "i'm just messing with you." you say before going on your phone, "you don't even seem like the type." you conclude. he's caught off guard, "w-what's that supposed to mean?" he asks. you look up from your phone and meet his gaze, "you don't seem like the type to do that stuff. I mean-" you pause putting your phone down, "do you even have experience?" you ask. "well... not exactly..." he admits embarrassed by the confession.

"see? I knew it." you let out a small humorous scoff. "I-I guess I just haven't had the time..." he says, trying to seem like he's too busy to gain experience, and not because he's a total loser. you raise an eyebrow slightly, "oh so it's not by choice?" you ask, not really believing it as you stand up and put your textbook back into your bag. he stays quiet for a bit before speaking up, "yeah no... just too busy for it..." he says quietly. you let out a small snark with a small grin, "yeah okay." you respond still not buying it. Matt has this sudden urge to fight back, he also knew you weren't buying it so he makes a move he never expected to make, "I mean I have the time now." he utters, making him widen his eyes a bit. you look up at him as you tilt your head slightly, "oh so you did come here expecting something." you say, crossing your arms. "no! no... but- forget it." he mumbles embarrassed as he picks up his bag.

you sit at the edge of the bed as you speak up, "no. go ahead. since you have time." you say, not having very high expectations. he freezes in his spot as he looks at you, "w-what?" he asks with his heart pounding. "you heard me." you say, propping your arms back behind you slightly. he puts his bag down slowly as he steps in front of you. he looks down at you as you tilt your head a bit. you blink up at him, waiting for his move, not amused. Matt then slowly gets on his knees, your eyes follow him, now looking down at him. he places his hands nervously on the waistband of your pajama shorts. he looks up at you and back down at his hands as he begins to slide your shorts down slowly, revealing your white lace panties. his breath hitches in his throat as he continues to pull them down your silky legs, now leaving you in just your panties. he takes a moment to admire you in front of him as he begins to kiss your inner thighs slowly and softly, making you roll your eyes a bit at how slow he's being. he then trails those kisses up, placing a soft kiss on your clothed cunt, your eyes watching him closely. he then kisses up your stomach, his face now stopped in front of your face.

he swallows before placing his lips onto yours, everything was slow and you kiss him back. after a bit, you pull away, "okay um. I don't think this is going to work." you say about to sit up completely but he stops you. he gets back onto his knees, now yanking your panties down. you gasp slightly by the sudden action as he takes in the sight of you bare. he grips under your thighs as he pulls you closer to his face. your heart begins to race by his sudden anticipation and change of demeanor. his mouth was so close to your core, you can feel his breath against it. Matt gulps as he glances up at you, then looking back down at your folds. "heaven help me." he thinks to himself before diving his tongue into you. at first, you weren't feeling it, you sort of felt bad for his lack of experience but then, he begins to suck on your clit, making you sit up and look down at him. your mouth slowly falling open, surprised by his action. he continues to suck on your clit, you feel yourself getting wet as he works his mouth. your breath began to hitch as he ran his tongue up your now slick folds.

he flattens out his tongue, continuing his upward motion. you gasp softly, quickly biting your lip. you didn't expect to be enjoying this. he darts his tongue in and out of your entrance, making you moan out a bit louder than you expected. he looks up at you as he melts against your wet folds. he watches as you crumble above him. he swirls his tongue around your clit, making you throw your head back at the sensation, "M-Matt." you moan out. the sound of his name rolling of your tongue made him go insane. the way you moan, it was like an angelic sound in his ears. he moves his tongue against your clit, side to side as you gasp, gripping his hair with your eyes shut. he begins to suck on your slit again as he unexpectedly pushes a finger into you. "f-fuck!" you moan out as he pumps his finger, while still sucking on your clit. his eyes still on you, he knows he's doing this right.

you buck your hips up slightly, starting to feel your legs shake a bit, you have never experienced pleasure like this before. Matt pulls his finger out of you as he grips your thighs, holding them in place roughly. you let out a small whimper. the feeling of his tongue was sort of overpowering. he groans against your folds, sending vibrations through out your body. his hands grip your thighs harder as he dives his mouth in deeper. he was completely in the moment, the taste of your juices on his tongue, making him want more and more. he continues darting his tongue into you, wet noises filling the room. "you're so wet." he mumbles against you, lapping his tongue up your folds. you grip his hair a bit harder as you continue to moan. you couldn't believe the school's biggest nerd is in between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

he then flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit as he looks up at you. you gasp once again, eyes darting down at him, "how was he so good at this?" you thought to yourself. he then pushes two fingers this time into you, catching you off guard. he pumps his slender fingers in and out at a quick motion as he swirls his tongue sloppily. you arch your back as you grip the sheets above you, "fuck Matt!" you moan loudly, making him ache in between your legs. this only drives him to go faster, pumping his fingers into you even faster as he sucks on your clit. the combination combines make your stomach swirl, "Matt i'm gonna-." you let out shakily as you arch your back even more, your eyes clenched shut, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as you experience the best orgasm you've ever had. you release all over his mouth as he keeps his mouth on you.

your legs shake as he continues to eat you out, despite you already releasing. he grips your thighs hard as he watches you shake uncontrollably under his touch. you swear you could now see stars as he groans against you once more. you push his head away as you look down at him in shock.

he licks his lips and his cheeks are flustered. you stare at him in disbelief as you try to catch up with your breathing. his eyes dart back down to your messy wet core as he looks back up at you, “h-how was that?” he asks shyly. “how could he act so shy after that?” you thought to yourself. he’s still on his knees as he waits for your response. it irritated you slightly at how much you enjoyed it, especially because you were so confident he would be terrible at it. when you finally calm down your breathing, you sit up and look down at him.

“what do you think?” you ask in disbelief. he feels his face heat up as he scratches the back of his neck, “uh…” he chuckles breathlessly, “good?” he questions. you push his glasses back up slowly as they were resting at the tip of his nose, “let’s just say, you are not what you seem.” you let out still in shock.

a/n: nerd matt has my heart.

tags! (comment if you want to be added)

@jnkvivi @fuckshitslover @nicksgirlfriend @mwahsturns @sturniolo-fann @etvar12 @hxnnah24 @strnlxlqve @sturncakez @sturnioloremarker @3lizaluvs @lanaswifeyy @dirtylittleheart333 @luzsturniolo @sturnpooks @sturnioq @c6ina @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @sweetangelgirl7 @fratbrochrisgf @l0vergrlll @deadiish @dykes4chris @blahbel668 @sturnfannn @schlutt4matty @scarlett-or-wtv @suyqa @strtrckrz @sturniluvr @alexisxena @fratboychrisera @unhingedrobin @edgemaster696

[mellosdrawings]

When you need to declare your love to your wife but it is so strong you can't help but revert back to french.

You know the perk of being french ? I can write Rook rambling haha !

(Though I am incapable of writing poetry, so here is the poem I used and its approximate translation:

Je respire où tu palpites,

Tu sais ; à quoi bon, hélas !

Rester là si tu me quittes,

Et vivre si tu t'en vas ?

(I breathe where you throb, you know ;

What for, alas! stay here if you leave me, and live if you go away?)

A quoi bon vivre, étant l'ombre

De cet ange qui s'enfuit ?

A quoi bon, sous le ciel sombre,

N'être plus que de la nuit ?

(What good is living, being the shadow of this fleeing angel?

What for, under the dark sky, being from the night only?)

Je suis la fleur des murailles

Dont avril est le seul bien.

Il suffit que tu t'en ailles

Pour qu'il ne reste plus rien.

(I am the flower of your walls for which April is the only good.

You only need to leave for me to be left with nothing.)

Tu m'entoures d'Auréoles;

Te voir est mon seul souci.

Il suffit que tu t'envoles

Pour que je m'envole aussi.

(You surround me with Halos;

I care only about seeing you.

You need only to take flight for me to fly too.)

Si tu pars, mon front se penche ;

Mon âme au ciel, son berceau,

Fuira, dans ta main blanche

Tu tiens ce sauvage oiseau.

(Should you leave, my front/forehead shall lean ;

My soul in the sky, its cradle, will flee,

In your white hand you hold this wild bird.)

Que veux-tu que je devienne

Si je n'entends plus ton pas ?

Est-ce ta vie ou la mienne

Qui s'en va ? Je ne sais pas.

(What would I become, should I not hear your steps anymore?

Is it your life or mine that is fleeing ?

I cannot tell?)

Quand mon orage succombe,

J'en reprends dans ton coeur pur ;

Je suis comme la colombe

Qui vient boire au lac d'azur.

(When my thunder dies down, I take some from your pure heart ;

I am like the dove that just drank in the azur lake.)

L'amour fait comprendre à l'âme

L'univers, salubre et béni ;

Et cette petite flamme

Seule éclaire l'infini

(Love makes the soul understand the universe, healthful and blessed ;

And this lonely little flame shines upon the endless)

Sans toi, toute la nature

N'est plus qu'un cachot fermé,

Où je vais à l'aventure,

Pâle et n'étant plus aimé.

(Without you, all of nature is only a closed cell where I go on an adventure,

Pale and no longer beloved.)

Sans toi, tout s'effeuille et tombe ;

L'ombre emplit mon noir sourcil ;

Une fête est une tombe,

La patrie est un exil.

(Without you, everything falls apart ;

Shadows fill my dark eyebrow ;

A feast/party is a tomb,

The homeland is an exile.)

Je t'implore et réclame ;

Ne fuis pas loin de mes maux,

O fauvette de mon âme

Qui chantes dans mes rameaux !

(I beg and demand ;

Do not flee any longer from my pain,

O warbler of my soul who sings in my twigs!)

De quoi puis-je avoir envie,

De quoi puis-je avoir effroi,

Que ferai-je de la vie

Si tu n'es plus près de moi ?

(What could I want?

What could I be afraid of?

What would I do of life without you by my side?)

Tu portes dans la lumière,

Tu portes dans les buissons,

Sur une aile ma prière,

Et sur l'autre mes chansons.

(You carry in the light,

You carry in the bushes,

On a wing my prayers,

On the other my songs.)

Que dirai-je aux champs que voile

L'inconsolable douleur ?

Que ferai-je de l'étoile ?

Que ferai-je de la fleur ?

(What will I tell to the fields that hide my inconsolable pain?

What would I do of the star?

What would I do of the flower?)

Que dirai-je au bois morose

Qu'illuminait ta douceur ?

Que répondrai-je à la rose

Disant : " Où donc est ma soeur ?"

(What will I tell to the morose forest that illuminated your softness?

What will I answer at the rose asking "Where is my sister?")

J'en mourrai ; fuis, si tu l'oses.

A quoi bon, jours révolus !

Regarder toutes ces choses

Qu'elle ne regarde plus ?

(I would die ;

Flee if you dare.

What is the point, days gone! of looking at all those she no longer looks at?)

Que ferai-je de la lyre,

De la vertu, du destin ?

Hélas ! et, sans ton sourire,

Que ferai-je du matin ?

(What would I do of the lyre, of virtue, of destiny?

Alas! And, without your smile,

What would I do of the morning?)

Que ferai-je, seul, farouche,

Sans toi, du jour et des cieux,

De mes baisers sans ta bouche,

Et de mes pleurs sans tes yeux !

(What would I do, alone, wild, without you, of days and heavens,

Of my kisses without your lips,

And of my tears without your eyes!)

Il suffit que tu t'envoles pour que je m'envoles aussi - Victor Hugo

(You need only take flight for me to fly too))

[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Part Two

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.) 

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to. 

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep. 

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it. 

 Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered. 

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real. 

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water. 

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone. 

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again. 

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life: 

“So, when can I play you again?”

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world. 

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you. 

Tashi had breathed life into you.

 Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear. 

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

 How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

 You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought. 

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin. 

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in. 

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands. 

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile. 

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

 “Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music. 

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm. 

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over. 

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form. 

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her. 

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you. 

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

 Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.” 

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you. 

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display. 

 Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear. 

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear. 

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass. 

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you. 

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is. 

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria. 

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face. 

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

 “You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table. 

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?” 

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently. 

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.” 

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her. 

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.” 

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

 “I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

 You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you. 

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

 His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

 Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth. 

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi. 

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.” 

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.” 

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!” 

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?” 

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together. 

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin. 

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you. 

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back. 

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious. 

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art. 

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.  

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong. 

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised. 

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.” 

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone. 

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him. 

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly. 

 Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away. 

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence. 

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!” 

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.  

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away. 

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you. 

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for. 

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka. 

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.” 

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury. 

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs. 

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head. 

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. 

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over. 

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet. 

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

 It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door. 

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs. 

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top. 

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

 Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication. 

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most. 

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to. 

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to.  You want him. 

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure. 

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you. 

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him. 

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names. 

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around. 

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

 You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him. 

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert. 

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol. 

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

 You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes. 

“Do that again.” 

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

 Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side. 

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back. 

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips. 

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next. 

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art. 

Art.

 Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him. 

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you. 

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move. 

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. 

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force. 

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real. 

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive. 

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room. 

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t. 

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away. 

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world. 

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered. 

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life. 

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him. 

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come. 

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old. 

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered. 

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art. 

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either. 

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you. 

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you. 

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room. 

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him. 

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him. 

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch. 

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down. 

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak. 

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them. 

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture. 

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him. 

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be. 

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

 But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do. 

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.” 

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?” 

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds. 

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him. 

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him. 

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly. 

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.” 

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.” 

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him. 

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question. 

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?” 

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship. 

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. 

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer. 

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you. 

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you. 

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head. 

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck. 

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean. 

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined. 

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most. 

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

 “Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head. 

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to. 

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly. 

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.” 

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you. 

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up. 

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

 His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin. 

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre. 

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations. 

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.” 

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait. 

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head. 

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs. 

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.” 

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you. 

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. 

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever. 

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity. 

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs. 

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck. 

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping. 

“Is this alright?” 

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch. 

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision. 

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

 As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick. 

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.” 

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts. 

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi. 

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world. 

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip. 

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum. 

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead. 

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place. 

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

 “Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

 In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you. 

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

 The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door. 

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things. 

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

 “You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously. 

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade. 

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

 Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too. 

Only time would tell.

[gigi-loveless]

summary - loser!roommate!ellie gets you a special new toy.

warnings - smut (duh), use of vibrator, very very light degradation

authors note - this has been sitting in my drafts for like two months 😭 anyways!! requests are open!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

loser!roommate!ellie who is obsessed with toys. and i mean obsessed.

new packages are always on your doorstep from some sketchy ass website, triple wrapped with duct tape. curiously, you peer over her shoulder while she flips out her pocket knife and digs it into the box, breaking the seal with ease.

"what is it, els?" you ponder, brushing your hand over her shoulder sensually.

"shh. you'll see..." she nearly whispers, plucking the small, purple toy out of the box. thighs rubbing together in anticipation, you tilt your head at the oddly shaped item, as ellie smirks at you.

“so this….is a phone controlled vibrator."

oh.

~

“els…..” you mewl out, reaching your fourth orgasm of the night. the knot in your stomach pulsed, the aching becoming unbearable, vision going fuzzy.

“hold it.” she answers nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up from her phone to see the pathetic mess you’ve made before her. scrolling just to flip back to the app for a moment to turn the vibrator up to an agonizing high, pretending to wipe her mouth to cover her shit eating smirk.

“this was just to test it out….i’m supposed to take you out when you can barely behave yourself here?” she chuckles, her fingers drumming against her thigh.

the moans you were suppressing were absolutely sinful to keep to yourself, though ellie urged you to be quiet. just to make things interesting, you let out a pornographic whine, throwing your head back in pleasure. the room goes quiet for a moment, besides the trill of the tv.

“mm…..” ellie hums out, running her fingers through her auburn locks, gesturing her head towards the tv. “js’ watch your show, princess.”

suddenly, the steady, reliable trill of the toy began to pulse erratically against your puffy, throbbing clit, your back arching into it involuntarily. chanting her name like a prayer, your high is approaching quickly, guttural whines finally escaping the confines of your throat.

“thought you were better than that angel….” ellie tuts, taunting you as she strips of her boxers, her favorite light blue strap sitting snugly on her hips.

pt. 2….? this was supposed to just be a drabble but i got carried away oops!

join my taglist!

@ellies2missingfingers @ellieslob @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrr

[haoboutyou]

gym crush | choi seungcheol

fluff | 1151 words | suggestive descriptions. i’m y/n’s just really thirsty

an: please take this as a formal invitation. requests are open! (whether i answer on time is another problem)

you don’t like the gym. absolutely not. it gets super hot and humid inside, it stinks of sweat, and the big machines always intimidate you.

what to do? you’re just a girl.

you usually wouldn’t even phantom the idea of stepping foot into the gym if it wasn’t for your best friend. really, the only reason why you’re even sitting in one right now was because you arrived too early for your meet up with him.

that’s how you ended up perched on a high stool, legs swinging as you patiently look around while soonyoung finishes up his last few sets of… pull-ups? you’re honestly not sure. how he’s still chatting with you while completing his sets – barely panting through it, too – is beyond you.

“so i was thinking,” soonyoung casually starts, lifting himself like he was made of paper. “we can get dinner at the new italian place downtown? i heard they’re having a opening promotion right now.”

“mmh, sounds good.” your eyes are flitting all around the gym, trying to find something interesting enough to catch your attention.

“right, i almost forgot! seokmin texted earlier; he said he’ll drive by to pick us up later too.”

“really? that’s great.” you sound enthusiastic but your hunched posture informs soonyoung otherwise. at this point, your best friend can tell that you’ve tuned out of the conversation. he huffs at the way your eyes zone into the far corner of the gym, where the weight benches are. soonyoung scoffs more when he realises your eyes are trained on a very specific person, watching intently at the way the muscles on his arms bulge every time he lifts a dumbbell.

“yeah, he also said he saw mingyu running into a tree earlier… even said a rat fell on him and started pulling at his hair and controlling him like a robot. do you think the rat would make a better chef than mingyu?”

“wow really? that’s great.” your replies get progressively monotonous as you keep your eyes trained at the corner. yeah, now he definitely knows your mind has completely left the conversation.

your breath hitched as you watched the mystery man run a hand through his faded red hair, baggy t-shirt sleeves hitched up to reveal more of his biceps? triceps? never have you ever wished you paid more attention to your biology lessons back in high school.

everything about this mystery man has you swooning. the thick veins on his hands running up his arms, the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration, how the sweat glistening on his forehead seemed to cast a heavenly glow all around him. you can’t forget the grunts he lets out with every movement, entrancing you with his deep voice. gosh, even his hands are perfect. an angel has descended to soothe all your gym-related problems, converting you into a devout worshipper of his physique.

you’ve never been more thankful for soonyoung’s suggestion to wait in the gym.

soonyoung’s arms may be burning from hanging on the pull-up bar for too long, but he just couldn’t believe his eyes; your mouth is hanging open and– wait, is that drool?! is his best friend really drooling over a man in the gym?!? a laugh of disbelief escapes him as he finishes the last of his rep. soonyoung mutters a quick prayer of thanks to god for gifting him prime blackmailing material. he drops back to the ground and swiftly snaps a picture of you, in all your thirsting glory, before he picks up the rest of his stuff.

“y/n,” he calls out. “i’m gonna hit the showers and then we can go. you good staying here on your own for a bit?”

“yeah, yeah! i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.” you wave him off, not even bothering to turn towards your best friend. soonyoung lets out another tut as he turns towards the gym’s locker room. that is, before a brilliant idea comes into mind.

“hyung!”

the red-haired man turns towards soonyoung’s voice. “hoshi, you’re going already?”

your best friend nods his head, grinning at how your eyes seemed to pop out at the way he was casually talking to your new-found eye candy. “are you doing anything tonight? i’m meeting seokmin and the others for dinner later, wanna join?”

“kwon soonyoung!” you whisper-hiss. “what the hell are you doing? you guys know each other!?” is that blush creeping up your neck he sees? the tips of your ears tinge so pink soonyoung thinks he can almost feel the heat radiating from them.

“thanks, but i’ve already got plans.” the mystery stranger shoots you a gentle smile, flirty (flirty?!) wink (WINK?!?) towards you. still, you can’t hide your disappointment; you would’ve loved to get to know this new-found work of art more.. “maybe next time? you can properly introduce me to your pretty friend then too.”

soonyoung thinks he heard a strangled cry from you, coughing as you somehow manage to choke on your own saliva. he chuckles at your suffering. “sure, hyung. i think she’d like that too!”

soonyoung doesn’t know what to expect when he finally emerges from the locker room cleaned and refreshed, but it definitely wasn’t you raining attacks on his sore arms and shoulders. seungcheol (he had introduced himself to you while soonyoung was gone– in fact, the two of you managed a whole conversation while he was gone (no, you were so shy and embarrassed you were barely able to keep eye contact with him)) waves at the both of you as you leave the gym to wait for seokmin to arrive.

you’re convinced the blush on your cheeks is going to be a permanent feature of tonight. it doesn’t help that it becomes the main topic during dinner with seokmin and mingyu, the other two boys cracking up at soonyoung’s dramatic retelling of your new-found gym crush.

(it also doesn’t help that you had a balled up fist under the table all night, hiding the hastily written phone number on a piece of paper that seungcheol had managed to slip to you while you were leaving, mouthing the words ‘call me!’ behind soonyoung’s back.)

-

bonus!

“remember when you couldn’t keep your eyes off me when we first met?” seungcheol swings his arm around you, broad shoulders almost engulfing you whole.

you groan, choosing instead to bury your head into your boyfriend’s chest. soonyoung cackles from across the booth. you have to physically restrain yourself from clawing him alive.

“hyung it wasn’t just that; she was drooling over you!” he wiggles his eyebrows, ignoring the daggers you were staring his way. blush makes its way up your cheeks, dusting them pink.

seungcheol laughs, planting a kiss on the crown of your head.

“if it makes you feel better,” he whispers in your ear. “you were my gym crush too.”

soonyoung almost falls off his seat laughing when you blush even harder.

[ellecdc]

oh my god. I love your slytherin reader x marauders!!!! your writing is amazing!!!! could you do like a part three I guess? but like of later in their relationship and the reader has this little first year friend (who she is forced to tutor but she actually likes him but won't admit it) and he reminds her of the boys and the boy just like brings her flowers and chocolates and stuff and the boys see it and James gets all jealous and Sirius is just like "nah just watch mate" and expect the reader to get all annoyed but she doesn't she just doesn't say anything (because she secretly finds the boy sweet and doesn't wanna be mean to the tiny marauder like man) so then they are all in disbelief and pouty

sorry that was very long

hehe...hehehe.....this request is from March 14th 🫢 thank youuuuu for the prompt and sorry for the huge wait..... [also, let this perhaps let people know that I do have old requests saved!]

poly!marauders x fiesty!reader who has an admirer [1.2k words]

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: fem!reader, reader is feisty, Sirius is upset she's not feistier

“I’m not sure if you boys were aware,” Marlene drawled as she plopped herself onto an empty wingback chair in the Gryffindor common room, “but there’s some ickle little first year making moves on your girl.”

Her comment was met by a snort from James, a bark of laughter from Sirius, and an eye roll from Remus. 

“Thoughts and prayers to the first year, then.” James commented, never looking up from the rubik’s cube he was fiddling with as his back rested against Sirius’ folded legs. 

“I don’t know.” Marlene sing-songed. “He seems pretty sweet on her.” 

“Please.” Sirius scoffed. “Our darling girl is the least approachable person in Hogwarts, I hardly believe there’s a wix bold enough to solicit her, let alone a puny little first year.”

“He didn’t have to solicit her, she’s tutoring him.” 

“Honestly, Marls, I’ve never been less concerned about anything in my entire life.” James admitted.

“Could be interesting to watch, yeah?” Sirius offered with a mischievous wink, nudging James with his knee. 

Remus rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, though he did close his book with a mischievous smirk. “Someone should be there to save him from our little viper.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!” Marlene laughed as she waved them off, not bothering to hide her devious grin. 

It didn’t take long for the boys to find you, seeing as you were haunting what you had early on in your schooling dubbed the ‘most superior table’ in the library. You’d told them what made it so, but James had been paying more attention to the way your lips were moving and less on the actual words that were leaving them. 

“Oh Merlin, the poor sod has no clue.” Sirius all but giggled as they crouched behind one of the aisles of books surrounding your table. 

“Not terrible.” They heard you say as you looked over his work, and based on the boy's beaming smile one would assume you’d given him high praise.  “But you’re getting ahead of yourself and not showing your work.”

“Does showing my work matter if the answers are right?” The kid asked, and James couldn’t blame the kid - he’d had many-a-conversations along the same lines over the years. 

You simply lifted his parchment and walloped him over the head for it. “Yes, showing your work matters; you will lose marks if you don’t.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down.” The kid said solemnly, and James’ heart momentarily melted before he realised that was his darling angel that he was putting the moves on. 

He waited for you to groan and call him a rotten toerag, but you simply shook your head and instructed him to do the next question, making sure to show his work this time. 

“Get a load of this kid; she’s gotta be just about ready to hex him.” Sirius murmured. 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t, honestly.” James replied, causing Remus to snicker.

“The two of you have been hexed for less.”

The three were interrupted when the kid let out a theatrical gasp and dropped his quill. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” He screeched before ripping open his book bag.

After far too long spent searching the inside of his bookbag, the kid withdrew a slightly crumpled rose, letting out a disappointed groan when he saw the state of it. “My astronomy textbook must’ve crushed it.”

“Why do you have a rose in your bag?” You deadpanned, and the kid was right back to beaming again.

“I brought it for you, of course. I picked the prettiest one for the prettiest girl.”

This was it, this was the moment they were here for; Sirius watched eagerly as Remus grimaced, each equally anxious for your no doubt cantankerous response. 

But it never came.

You simply let out a sound bordering a breath, a sigh, and a laugh as you gingerly took the wilted rose between two fingers. 

“Very thoughtful. Please get back to your homework.” Was all you offered him, but the kid seemed no less pleased as he picked up his quill and dutifully returned to his work. 

“What in the buggering fuck?” Sirius hissed, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Remus, but it was too late.

“Can I help you boys?” You drawled, though you never actually looked behind you where your three boyfriends were still hiding. 

“Yes, you can help me.” Sirius barked, storming out from behind the stacks followed closely by James and less closely by Remus who had the grace to look a little shamefaced for his spying. “You can help me understand what the hells all this is!”

“This is called tutoring and studying, Sirius, if you spent any time in a library, it might be more familiar to you.” You offered simply, turning a glare in Remus’ direction when he snorted. 

“Okay, swot, what I mean is why are you hear letting this little dugbog-”

“Sirius!” You chided quickly.

“Oh my gods! And you’re defending him!” Sirius continued shrilly, earning him various shushings from surrounding students. 

James couldn’t help but notice you roll your eyes in exasperation, but he also noticed the faintest hints of a smile dancing on your lips. 

“You’ve done well, Cameron; keep practising, and for the love of Merlin make sure you show your work next time or so help me gods…”

“Yes ma’am!” Cameron replied as he packed up his bag. “See you next week?”

“Just as we always have.” You drawled in a bored tone, though you offered him a smirk as he hustled out of the library. 

“I can’t believe you!” Sirius huffed as he took Cameron’s now vacated seat. 

“Angel…what is the meaning of all this?” James asked earnestly, causing Remus to snort as he had the decency to press a kiss to your hair in greeting. 

“If we’d have known you were meeting with new suitors, dove, we would have insisted on accompanying you to your tutoring sessions.”

“Oh please.” You dismissed. “He’s just a kid.”

“Uhm, and?” Sirius pouted.

“Sweetheart, we’ve seen you jinx a kid for sneezing too closely to you.” Remus reminded you, and your face darkened.

“Germ infested little freaks.”

“There’s our girl.” Sirius exclaimed. “I can’t believe you let him get away with any of that!” 

“He’s harmless.”

“He’s a flirt.” Sirius corrected.

“He’s you.” You shot back, and the three boys all looked at you with various levels of bemusement. 

“I beg your pardon?” James finally asked, and you shook your head as you began packing up your own bag. 

“He’s like a miniature version of the three of you; following me around and being abhorrently affectionate.”

“Well, hey, I think we’re, like, an appropriate amount of affectionate.” James tried. 

“No, it's sort of abhorrent sometimes.” Remus quickly agreed. 

“Babe…” Sirius cooed, causing Remus and James to grimace. “Are you going soft on us!?” 

Your eyes immediately darkened as you glowered at him, and if Sirius’ sudden flinch and the following yelp proved anything, you aimed a tame stinging jinx at him. 

“On the kid? Maybe.” You responded primly. “On the three of you? Jury’s still out.”

[hyaeth]

              — ‘nother tag dump cus i’m just never happy with anything

[thekissofaphrodite]

Angel Eyes

Luke Castellan X Daughter of Aphrodite!Reader

Summary: Look into his angel eyes, You'll think you're in paradise, and one day, you'll find out he wears a disguise. Don't look too deep into those angel eyes.

Warnings: Explicit scenes *smirks*, angst (Remind me if I missed one!)

Author's note: I was listening to ABBA and realized that Angel Eyes describes Luke PERFECTLY. When Yk yk.

——

You laid on top of Luke's bare chest, still panting heavily, He pressed his nose to your hair and inhaled your scent. His muscular arms wrapped around your breasts.

"Do you love me?"

Luke immediately laughed, His throat bobbing as his laughter echoed through his empty cabin.

"Is that even a question? Of course I do, " He said, His eyes looking deeply at yours, carefully analyzing your reaction.

You didn't answer. Instead, you got up and pulled his blanket to cover your bare chest while trying to search for your clothes.

Luke immediately sensed something was wrong, He sat up and leaned against the headboard, Carefully watching you as you put on your pink bra.

"You're Upset" He said.

"Am I?" You asked sarcastically, You remembered the prophecy perfectly.

Someone who you deeply love lies, manipulating one until your own eyes sees the bright blue skies.

Someone you deeply love.

The oracle felt like it was pointing at Luke, the love of your life. The one who saved you when you were a mess. The one who kissed you every night, The one who wiped your tears when you were crying. The one who held your hand when you were scared.

It's impossible.

He wouldn't do that.

Not Him.

Not Luke.

As soon as you're fully clothed. You looked into his eyes, Searching for any signs of betrayal you might suffer, But instead, He winked and kissed your cheeks before you left.

——

He betrayed you, He really did.

He wasn't Luke anymore, He was now Kronos.

You laid beneath the road. The sun hitting your face as you stared at skies, Rethinking your choices.

You're fatally wounded after ethan nakamura shot you with a deadly arrow, The poison spread slowly inside your body, making you weak. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought his name all over again.

Luke Luke Luke Luke Luke

As if tho his name was a prayer, You were dying. You were about to lose a life, A life you had future plans, a life that you deeply deserve.

Then, You saw someone towering over you, It was Luke, with a scythe in hand, His scar was still on his face, Ever so beautiful. You tried to say his name but was greeted with a pool of blood choking you as soon as you opened your mouth.

"Shh...There there now..." Luke, Or should I say Kronos caressed your hair as you started gasping for hair, Indicating that the poison had spread now.

"Sleep well darling" He whispered as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

You then closed your eyes and stopped struggling, You were now free, The last thing you saw was the blue skies and Luke's angel eyes as Thanatos' silhouette appeared behind you.

A/N: THE BETRAYAL?!?!? I HAVEN'T READ THE BOOKS BUT I KNEW LUKE WAS A TRAITOR. HOW DID I DO?! IM NOT GOOD AT ANGST SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME IF THIS IS A SHORT ONE 😔😔