#ask.💌

[sicklysweetgf]

💗✨💕💗✨💕💗✨💕💗✨💕💗✨💕💗✨

if you’re reading this you have a crush on me no takebacksies

💗✨💕💗✨💕💗✨💕💗✨💗✨💕💗✨💕

[sellieloves]

Us Beast x Ancient fans just can't stop winning... Every Beast-Yeast update gets more and more suspicious... Silent Salt update is gonna have Salt walking up to White Lily with flowers in one hand and an engagement ring in the other

dear have you somehow have been stalking my silly little notes.... bcus ive been having the same train of thought ever since ep 7???

like i modified this silly little chart when ep 8 came out.... how did you know...... for all i know you've been haunting my numerous burningcheese fanfic drafts too..... /j /silly

ok but seriously. RIGHT???? I KNOW I WASNT INSANE WHEN I THOUGHT IT. with every update the beasts get even more.... like that???? huh??? someone sedate me please

like Mystic Flour hides her feelings (ofc Dark Cacao still sees right through her) so it's not shown that much -> Burning Spice gains an intense menhera/yandere obsession with Golden Cheese -> Shadow Milk OUTRIGHT SAYS THE MOST. INSANE THINGS TO PURE VANILLA -> and now Eternal Sugar is fully getting so close to Hollyberry's face and batting her eyelashes, holding her hands tenderly, taking her on a romantic flying date.....

you're right dear merchant, atp Silent Salt is just going to fully get down on one knee within 5 secs of meeting White Lily or something

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

LOVE mean!rafe and desperate!reader i need more where they finally become official if they ever do

but i’ll do anything for you

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — mdni, p in v, cockwarming, rafe gets softer

summary — after rafe finally starts developing feelings, he decides to take whatever they have to the next level.

authors note — this can be read as a standalone but is essentially a part 2 to “i just wanna be one of your girls.” please request more!! they motivate me so much more than just free writing. should i keep adding to this series too??

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“tell me you’re mine,” rafe demanded as his big rough hands kneaded the soft fat of your ass. his blue eyes glared into yours while he waited expectantly for your reply.

you moaned quietly when your hips rolled into his and his tip pressed up against your cervix in the most delicious way. “i’m yours, rafe,” you replied excitedly and eagerly. “i’ve always been yours.”

he nodded with a satisfied grin on his face. “good,” he mumbled before leaning forward to kiss you. your hands moved from his shoulders to his jaw as you pressed further into him. he thought the passion you poured into his lips was cute.

when you pulled away breathlessly with kiss-bitten lips, you frowned slightly with tears brimming in your waterline. “but are you mine?” you asked hesitantly. your face was quiet and scared, entirely expecting his answer to disappoint you like it always did.

he thought for a quick second. you were fucking gorgeous, you listened to everything he said, you did everything he asked, and you were completely obsessed with him. what else could he want? “I’m yours,” he whispered against your lips before kissing you again.

his hands moved underneath your ass to slowly lift you up and quickly slam you back down on his length. you whimpered into his mouth, leaving enough room for him to slip his tongue inside and get you feeling all dizzy.

he began to roll your hips into his own, your clit dragging against his pubic bone and the movement allowing you to feel every vein of his cock. tears began to slip down your cheeks. he fucking loved how sensitive you were.

“can’t take it, rafe,” you muttered against his pink lips. you panted as your walls spasmed around him and tried to push him out. “you’re too big.”

he could’ve swore he’d just fallen in love with you again. “move in with me,” he blurted out. he didn’t even have time to think about the words leaving his mouth. he just knew he needed to keep you safe and locked away where no one could snap you out of your little dream.

you nodded almost instantly. even with glossy eyes and tears staining your cheeks, you smiled bigger than ever. “i want that,” you said happily. he grinned and leaned back against the sofa, allowing you to move at your own pace and do whatever you needed for yourself. “rafe?”

“what?” he asked. there was almost a hint of irritation in his voice knowing that there was more than likely another question coming his way.

you wiped your tears and replaced your hands on his shoulders, trying to ignore the way his cock was impaling you. “does this mean we’re, like, exclusive?” you asked hopefully.

he internally rolled his eyes at that. was that really a question? he though it was pretty self-explanatory. he began to think he’d fucked you stupid already without even doing much. “sure,” he said.

you squealed giddily and hugged him tight. he almost began to question what he’d just gotten himself into.

[sai-int]

You keep talking about douchebag Simon, so I keep thinking about douchebag Simon, and now I wanna get back at him. Here's my thoughts:

This time you're actually done with his bullshit. He's taken you to yours, fucked you seven ways to Sunday, and left before you even fell asleep, again. You know you could help, could give him everything he doesn't have, but goddamn, there's only so many times one can offer before the other party makes it clear that they don't want help. Simon doesn't want help.

He's just been dragging you along on a string, and now that you've cut it, you want revenge. Definitely not partially to make him jealous so he would long for you like you have for him. However, Simon hasn't told you anything about family or friends, so it's not like you could just go and fuck his dad, but some basic reconnaissance should get results.

It doesn't take but a few batted eyelashes, payments for drinks, and some bullshit story about a surprise for Simon to get the other regulars at the shitty bar Simon frequents to talk. He comes every so often with friends, each with an odd nickname. However, the one that piques your interest is one that's occasionally referred to as 'Captain". Simon does have the military look about him, with all those scars and the way he carries himself, so you assume that his Captain will be the next best thing to a metaphorical father.

You learn that his name is John Price, a perfectly average name, common in all aspects, and get a description of him, tall, bearded, built bloke. Not so average. You bribe the bartender to call you next time he's in and steal him away for a few moments after. You would wait around at the dive yourself, but you'd rather avoid Simon because you don't want to fall into old habits don't want to see his stupid face.

A few weeks later, you get the call. You look in the mirror to make sure your makeup is good enough and you throw on the best outfit you can given the time constraint. It doesn't take long to get to that bar and you make your way behind the building to meet with John Price and avoid the prying eyes of your ex(?) situationship.

The hard gaze and tense posture of the large man fall once he gets a good look at you. You're not a hostile that somehow got their location. You're just a little bird (regardless of weight or height, you're little to Price). Maybe you have a thing for large men who could kill you with one finger, because this man is certainly doing it for you. "John Price?"

"Tha's me." John is surprised you know his name at all. He certainly would've remembered you if you had met before. You must be a clever little thing.

Now, you are inherently a bleeding heart, and as much as Simon hurt you, you can't bring yourself to bring someone else into this shitty situation blind, so you explain the whole situation with him, hoping that for some reason he will help and not rat on you. The plan of course is to pretend to have a one night stand with the captain then pretend to fall in love and date for a bit. Just long enough to rub it in Simon's face that you bagged his commanding officer.

John seems entirely amused. Normally he wouldn't dream of going behind his mens' backs like this, especially not Simon who's been a loyal dog for years now, but he clearly has something to learn if he's breaking the heart of this sweet, whip-smart bird like he is, and said bird just offered a perfect learning opportunity. John never misses the chance to better his men after all, and if he can keep this bird coming back to his windowsill to sing to him, (As he doesn't want to cage the poor thing, that would be just as cruel as breaking her) then that's all the better.

Anyways that's what my brain said, you can do with this as you please. ^-^

holy shit, i don't even think I could put it better than this, but here's my portrayal!!

cw : none, douchebag!simon, simon's a brat, but john's a man

you knew this moment would come.

you spent weeks laying the groundwork, learning the ins and outs of simon’s world. the places he haunted, the people he trusted, the patterns of his life. and now, after all the work, after all the nights spent staring at your ceiling, seething over the way he’s used you.

time to make him feel it. really feel it.

because you were done. done letting him take and take and leave you empty—well, not necessarily empty, he's pumped you full of his seed more times than you could count on both hands. you're done waiting for a man who had already made it crystal fucking clear he was never going to let you in.

and what better way to drive the knife than with the one man he actually respects.

john price. his beloved captain. his commanding officer.

you had expected price to shoot you down the second you'd cornered him in the team's usual haunt and suggested your plan, to wave you off like a foolish girl playing a game she couldn’t win. instead, he just leaned back, took a slow sip of his drink, and smirked.

"he needs a lesson," he’d said, amused. "and you need a bit of fun."

john was impressed, to say the least. you managed to not only pin down when he was going to be at the pub, but also put a name to a face? clever girl, you are. gorgeous one too, and that wasn't lost on him.

which is how you find yourself here, pressed close to john price in the same exact pub, not 3 days later, looking like you belong at his side.

simon had wandered into the pub a while ago, but he had just sat at the bar, not noticing the pair cuddled up in a booth in the far corner of the bar. eventually, though, his eyes wander. bored, in his head probably. then they bulge as they land on his captain and his bird. his big, tender paws are all over you. he makes you laugh, a sound that makes simon's heart twist in a way he tried to ignore. he wipes the stray drops of your drink from your lip with the pad of his thumb.

the weight of simon's gaze is suffocating, burning a hole straight through you, scorching from across the bar. it should make you falter, should make you hesitate, but you refuse to give him that satisfaction.

instead, you lean in closer to price, one hand resting lightly on his forearm, the motion deliberate and obvious.

price plays his part so well, you'd think he was being genuine.

"hope you don’t mind me stealing your attention for a bit," you murmur, just loud enough for simon to hear, voice dripping with amusement.

price tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with something dangerous as he brushes your hair back. "not at all, love," he says easily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "was starting to think i wouldn’t see you again."

you just coyly smile at price, kneading his thick forearms as if to say 'you're so strong'. "you can see me whenever you want, John, you know i'm yours."

price hums, gaze flicking toward simon before settling back on you. "so," he muses, voice a deep, rolling thing, "you never did answer my question, doll."

you blink up at him, lips parting slightly. "what question?"

he smirks.

"this one,"

then he leans in, close, slow, one hand settling high on your thigh as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

not a full kiss. just a taste. just tender enough to get your stomach fluttering.

and that’s when you hear it.

the screech of simon’s chair against the hardwood. the slam of his glass onto the bar counter.

then, low and guttural. he's seething.

"the fuck do y'think your doin?"

the tension in the room shifts, like a current crackling through the air. you feel the heat of simon’s anger, the barely-contained rage simmering just beneath his skin.

but you don’t turn, you occupy yourself with your drink, letting price answer first.

"something wrong, mate?" he asks, tilting his head, voice the perfect picture of calm

simon clears his throat, hand waving awkwardly as he tries to find the words. "that's my girl."

price just lifts a brow. "thought you weren’t interested, riley."

simon scoffs, low and sharp. "you tell me, captain," the title drips from his lips like venom. "didn’t think y'were in the business of pickin’ up my fuckin’ scraps."

you don’t flinch. you don’t even blink. you just exhale, slow and measured, before turning your head to meet his glare

"funny," you say, tilting your chin up. "didn’t realize you thought so highly of yourself"

simon’s nostrils flare. his eyes flick to price’s hand still resting on your thigh, his fingers twitch like he’s dying to rip it away

"y'slummin' it, cap?" simon mutters, but there’s a crack in his voice, a tightness to it, something that tells you this is getting to him.

price just hums, completely unbothered as he throws his arm around you. "nah," he says, tucking you into his side and planting a kiss to your temple. "just doin’ what you couldn’t,"

simon goes still.

"or wouldn't."

his fingers curl into fists, his jaw tics, and for the first time since you met him, he doesn’t have anything to say.

the silence stretches. you watch his chest rise and fall, the way his eyes flick between you and price like he’s trying to make sense of this, like he’s looking for the part where it’s just a game.

you see the moment he begins to believe it isn't, the way his shoulders tense, the way his lips part just slightly before they press into a tight, thin line

and then, just as you knew he would, he breaks. he turns on his heel, returning to the bar and downing his drink.

price exhales beside you, slow and knowing, before finishing off his drink.

"well," he mutters, "that was easier than i thought"

you hum, tipping your own glass back before setting it down with a soft clink

"you were right," you murmur, stretching, letting price’s arm fall from your shoulders to rest against the small of your back. "he’s not gonna forget this."

price lets out a low chuckle, and it feels like honey dripping down your spine. he presses his palm just a little firmer against you as he leans down, voice dropping just for you.

"no," he agrees, smirking. "especially not when he realizes i’m keepin’ you."

your breath catches slightly, just for a second, but price notices, his smirk turning softer, more certain

"didn’t think you were mine to take," he continues, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw, "but now?" he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuck, sweetheart. i’d be a fool to let you slip away now."

and when he takes your hand and leads you out of the bar, the weight of simon’s absence is nothing compared to the warmth of price’s touch.

douchebag!simon mlist

[fablivious1]

can I see Rodger’s reaction to toodles wearing the detective costume? From the Halloween comic you did.

Of course! I made this a while ago but it seems I forgot to post it here, there’s a bit more, I’ll link part 2 when I post it

Edit: i can’t link it for some reason but the rest is in reblogs ^^

[holyblonded]

the m word | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: 3 times you accidentally called alexia mom and the one time you planned it

warings: bad parents, flu

notes: this takes place a few months to a year or two after estrella joined the team

When you first moved up to the senior team, you had no idea what to expect. You were only fourteen, the youngest player by far, and all your friends (besides Jana and Bruna) were still in the academy. Your mother, on most days, was off doing God knows what, leaving you to navigate this new world on your own.

But something you never expected was how close you’d become with Alexia. From the moment she scouted you, she took you under her wing, guiding you through the chaos of professional football, especially at such a young age. She made sure you ate properly, did your homework, and kept you in line (for the most part) during training. She even gave you rides to and from practice, looking after you in ways no one else had in your life. Tonight was no different.

The team’s plane had just landed back in Barcelona, the clock inching past midnight. You were exhausted, curled up between Jana and Bruna, their heads resting on top of yours as the three of you dozed off in your seats. The steady hum of the plane’s engines had lulled you into a deep sleep, and you barely stirred when the seatbelt sign dinged, signaling it was time to disembark.

Alexia stretched and turned back to find the three of you completely knocked out. With a small shake of her head, she reached over, nudging Jana and Bruna awake. “Come on, we landed,” she said softly.

Jana groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up, while Bruna yawned, slowly blinking herself awake. But you didn’t move.

Alexia poked your arm. Nothing. She shook your shoulder. Still nothing.

“She’s not going to get up,” Bruna muttered sleepily.

Jana smirked. “You know what to do.”

Alexia sighed before glancing over at Jenni, who had been watching the whole scene unfold with amusement. “Jenni,” Alexia said, tilting her head toward you.

Jenni grinned. “Oh, I got this.”

Before you even knew what was happening, strong arms scooped you up, lifting you effortlessly from your seat. You stirred slightly, groaning, but instead of fighting it, you simply curled into Jenni’s shoulder, completely deadweight in her arms.

“She’s like a little koala,” Jenni teased, carrying you down the plane steps while the rest of the team laughed quietly.

“Try having to wake her up every day,” Alexia muttered, rolling her eyes as she followed behind.

Jenni carried you through the airport, through baggage claim, and all the way to the car without you waking up once. When they finally reached Alexia’s car, Jenni shifted you in her arms. “You’re heavier than you look, mona (monkey),” she grumbled, carefully maneuvering you into the backseat. You murmured something incoherent but didn’t wake up, your head slumping against the window.

The drive home was quiet, the exhaustion of the match settling into all of them. When they finally pulled up to your apartment, Alexia got out and walked up to the door, fishing your keys from your bag. She slipped one into the lock, but it didn’t turn.

Frowning, she tried again. Nothing.

Jenni, watching from the corner, raised a brow. “Everything okay?”

Alexia’s jaw tensed. “The keys aren’t working.”

Jenni frowned and walked closer, trying them herself. Still, the door wouldn’t budge.

“That’s weird,” she muttered, glancing over at Alexia.

Alexia nodded slowly. Something about this didn’t sit right with her, but she wasn’t going to push it now, not with you dead asleep in the backseat. “She can stay at mine tonight,” she said simply.

Jenni agreed, and soon, you were once again being carried, this time into Alexia’s apartment. While Jenni went to shower, Alexia brought you into the spare bedroom, pulling the covers back before carefully laying you down. You stirred slightly as she tucked the blanket around you, your eyes fluttering open just the slightest.

“Buenas noches, mami,” you mumbled sleepily, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia froze.

You didn’t even realize what you had said before you were already slipping back into sleep, your breathing evening out. Alexia stood there for a moment, completely speechless, watching as your face relaxed against the pillow.

She swallowed, something unfamiliar twisting in her chest, but she didn’t say anything.

Instead, she simply exhaled softly, reached out to brush a stray curl from your forehead, and whispered, “Buenas noches, Estrella.”

Then, without another word, she turned off the light and quietly shut the door behind her.

The night sky above you stretches endlessly, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds against the vast darkness. The crisp air carries the electric energy of the stadium, the thunderous roar of the crowd vibrating through your bones. Games like this— games that mattered, games that demanded everything from you, always sent an intoxicating rush of dopamine through your system.

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you take it all in, grounding yourself in the moment. You’ve been here before, but somehow, it always feels brand new. The magnitude of El Clásico never fades, never dulls. The rivalry is embedded in every touch of the ball, every challenge, every goal.

“You ready?” Mario asks, slinging an arm around your shoulders, her voice low but charged with anticipation.

You smirk, shaking out your shoulders. “I’m always ready.”

The first goal comes early, a beautiful sequence of passes that ends with you slipping between defenders, receiving a perfectly weighted ball from Alexia, and slotting it past Misa with the outside of your foot. The eruption of noise is deafening, your name bouncing off the walls of the stadium as you sprint toward the corner, fists clenched in triumph.

The second goal is a blur. Marta intercepts a wayward pass, Laia sends it down the flank, and Leila cuts it back for you at the top of the box. Without thinking, you strike it first time, curling it into the far post. Two-nil.

By the time the third opportunity presents itself, Madrid is desperate, pushing high up the pitch in a last-ditch effort to claw their way back. You see it before it even happens, one bad touch from their midfielder, a brief lapse in control. You pounce, intercepting the ball near the halfway line.

There’s no hesitation. Your eyes flick up, spotting Misa off her line, and your body moves instinctively. You pull your foot back and strike through the ball with perfect precision. Time seems to slow as the ball soars through the air, carrying all the way from midfield, past the scrambling keeper, and into the back of the net.

For a second, the stadium holds its breath. Then, an explosion of sound.

You even don’t think, you just run.

Pure, unfiltered euphoria surges through you as you sprint toward the bench, your legs burning but your heart flying. Alexia is the first person you see, her arms wide open, and you leap straight into them, wrapping your arms around her neck as she catches you effortlessly.

“Mami!” The word slips out in your excitement, a natural instinct, completely unnoticed by you as you bury your face in her shoulder.

Alexia squeezes you tight, pressing a hand to the back of your head. “Qué locura, Estrelleta,” she murmurs, laughter laced in her voice. “You’re unbelievable.”

Neither of you notice the way Mario’s brows shoot up, how Laia covers her mouth to stifle a laugh, how Leila exchanges a knowing glance with Marta. They don’t say a word, but the moment is filed away, stored for future teasing.

Right now, though, none of it matters.

Right now, you’ve just put three past Madrid. Right now, you’re weightless, wrapped in Alexia’s arms, the chants of your name filling the air. Right now, you are exactly where you belong.

The dim glow of the living room lamp barely illuminated the room, casting soft shadows on the walls. You were cocooned in a thick bundle of blankets, your limbs heavy, your body radiating unbearable heat, yet somehow you still shivered. Every breath felt like a monumental effort, your throat raw, your head pounding like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

“Jenni,” you croaked dramatically from your fortress of suffering. “Jenni, please come quick—I am dying.”

Jenni, who had been putting on her shoes by the door, let out a soft giggle as she grabbed her wallet. “I know, bebita,” she said, adjusting her jacket. “That’s why I’m going out to get medicine.”

“No,” you whined, reaching out a feeble, shaking hand like a character in a tragic play. “Don’t leave! It might be the last time you see me. Tell everyone I fought bravely.”

Jenni rolled her eyes, walking back over to you with an amused expression. She crouched beside the couch, brushing your sweaty hair off your forehead before pressing a kiss to it. “You’ll survive, drama queen,” she teased. “Try not to perish before I get back.”

You barely had the strength to glare at her before she slipped out the door, leaving you alone in your misery.

Somewhere in the apartment, a door creaked open. Heavy footsteps padded toward you, slow and groggy.

A shadow loomed over you before a voice, low and thick with sleep, broke through the haze of your fever.

“Estrella.”

You barely registered Alexia standing over you, her hair disheveled, wrapped in a loose hoodie and sweatpants. She blinked at you, squinting as if trying to process the scene before her.

“You’re awake,” you murmured weakly, blinking up at her with glassy eyes. “Mami, I don’t feel good.”

She frowned. “What?”

You waved a limp hand. “Never mind,” you sighed, turning your head dramatically. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

Alexia sighed, rubbing her temple. “You are not hallucinating.” She crouched beside you, pressing the back of her hand against your forehead. “Dios mío, you’re burning up.”

You nodded solemnly. “I am dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

You reached for her hand, gripping it weakly. “Promise me something.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Take care of Eli when I’m gone.”

Alexia exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “You are not dying,” she repeated firmly before standing up. “Stay here.”

“Not like I have a choice,” you mumbled into your pillow, your body too exhausted to do anything but sink deeper into the couch.

A few minutes later, Alexia returned with a steaming mug in her hands. She sat on the edge of the coffee table, watching as you blinked sluggishly at her.

“Drink this.”

You wrinkled your nose. “What is it?”

“Tea.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that will make you feel better.”

You groaned. “That sounds fake.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes. “Estrella.”

You pouted but took the mug in your shaky hands. The first sip was bitter, but warmth spread through your throat, soothing the raw scratchiness. You took another sip, then another.

“Good girl,” Alexia murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

When you finished, she took the mug from you, setting it aside before you suddenly grabbed her wrist, stopping her from moving away.

“Stay,” you murmured.

“Estrella—”

“Please,” you mumbled, your fever-dazed brain barely processing anything beyond the need for comfort. “Lay with me.”

Alexia hesitated for a moment before sighing and carefully maneuvering herself onto the couch beside you. You immediately curled into her, burying your face into her hoodie, her warmth soothing in a way nothing else was.

“Mami? Thank you,” you mumbled sleepily.

Alexia stiffened, but when you didn’t say anything else, when your breathing evened out and your grip on her hoodie loosened she simply exhaled, letting it go.

She pulled the blanket tighter around you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Descansa, Estrellita,” she whispered.

And for the first time that night, your fevered mind let you sleep.

You adjusted the top of your suit jacket anxiously, smoothing out invisible wrinkles as you sat between Jenni and Alexia. Your fingers tapped against your thigh in a restless rhythm, your heart pounding harder than it ever had before a game. The room was filled with the biggest names in football, the air thick with anticipation as the ceremony reached its climax.

On stage, Kylian Mbappé held the envelope in his hands, the golden Ballon d’Or trophy gleaming beside him. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as he slid his finger beneath the envelope’s flap, carefully pulling out the slip of paper inside.

“The Ballon d’Or goes to…” He paused, glancing up with a knowing smile before announcing, “Alexia Putellas!”

The room erupted into applause, cheers echoing off the grand hall’s walls. Jenni let out a celebratory whoop beside you, clapping wildly. You turned to Alexia, but she was frozen for a second, processing the moment. Then, she exhaled sharply, a bright smile breaking across her face as she stood.

You were on your feet before you even realized it, clapping so hard your palms started to sting. As Alexia made her way toward the stage, she turned slightly, meeting your eyes for the briefest moment, and you saw it, the unguarded emotion, the disbelief, the sheer joy.

She took the trophy with steady hands, then approached the microphone. The applause quieted as she scanned the crowd, her expression softening as she took a breath.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she said, her voice steady yet full of emotion. “First, I want to thank my teammates, my coaches, and everyone at FC Barcelona. This award is not just mine—it belongs to every single person who has supported me, pushed me, and helped me become the player I am today.”

She paused for a moment, glancing down at the trophy, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Football has given me so much, but more than the trophies, more than the accolades, the most important thing it has given me is family.”

Your breath caught in your throat as her gaze found yours.

“To my teammates, my friends, to those who have stood by me no matter what, I love you all,” she continued. “But there’s one person I want to mention specifically.”

You stiffened slightly as she smiled directly at you.

“Estrella,” she said, voice warm, affectionate. “From the moment you walked into our team, you changed everything. You are a force of nature, a player unlike any other, but beyond that, you are one of the strongest, bravest people I have ever met. Watching you grow, on and off the pitch, has been an honor. And I want you to know that no matter what, no matter where football takes you, no matter how many goals you score or trophies you win, you will always have a home with me.”

Your throat felt tight. The room clapped again, but all you could do was sit there, gripping the arms of your chair, your chest aching with something indescribable.

Alexia wrapped up her speech, thanking her family, her late father, and everyone who had been part of her journey. Then, with one last glance at you, she stepped off the stage, the trophy clutched tightly in her hands.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. You weren’t paying attention to the other winners or the speeches, you were waiting. The moment the event concluded, you weaved through the crowd, searching for her.

And then you saw her. She was standing off to the side, trophy still in her hands, talking to a few journalists. But as if sensing your presence, she turned and the moment she saw you, her face lit up.

Without thinking, without hesitation, you ran toward her, closing the distance between you in seconds. She barely had time to react before you jumped into her arms, wrapping yourself around her. She stumbled back slightly but caught you with ease, laughing as she held you close.

You buried your face in her shoulder, inhaling deeply before pulling back just enough to look at her.

“I’m proud of you, Mami,” you said, voice quiet but firm.

It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was deliberate, intentional.

Alexia’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened slightly, her grip on you tightening. She smiled, something soft and unbearably fond in her expression as she rested her forehead against yours.

“Gracias, mi niña,” she whispered.

And for once, you didn’t mind the tears pricking at your eyes. Because for the first time in a long time, you felt completely, undeniably at home.

[jesuistrestriste]

this is my request for more patrick. dare i say artrick. dare i say them both totally pliable in your hands. i am terribly greedy and want to see sub!artrick and dom!reader written by you. please and thank

love youuuuu

eee hope this is to your liking annie ♥️ muah muah muah !

cw (18+) : sub!art donaldson, sub!patrick zweig, dom!reader, messy handjobs, desperation, dirty talk, patrick and art work for it

“does this feel good?” you breathe out, your voice almost shaky from the feeling of both sets of lips on your neck.

“mmn—yeah, yeah, i’m s’good,” art slurs into your left side, bucking up into your sticky hand, “can i—more—ah, faster—? aah-!”

patrick bites at your right earlobe and whimpers against your skin. his cock throbs in your right fist, dribbling with fluid from his attentive slit. it looks like melting glass pouring down his sensitive flesh.

“please,” he groans, “touch my tip, please.. oh, fuck, please—“

you chuckle and then suck in a soft breath when the blonde nips needily at your shoulder, lathing over it with his tongue after in apology. sometimes when his body starts to ache with arousal, he has to find an outlet for it—and sometimes that means biting, grabbing, sobbing, the like. patrick’s usually only slightly more restrained. they’re like two sides of the same coin, both constantly vying for attention, only in subtly different ways. it’s a good thing that you’ve trained them to stop bickering when you’re playing with their willing bodies. otherwise, they’d be at each other’s throats a bit right now.

“behave.”

that singular word from your mouth snaps them both back into place like rubber bands. art pants, high-pitched and whiny, while patrick grabs at the front of your body. he palms over your chest and squeezes whatever he can cup.

“i’m sorry,” you hear earnestly from the left side, accompanied by a calloused hand rubbing your inner thigh. you fist the back of his golden curls, which elicits a sharp, guttural cry to spring forth. his length twitches, balls drawn up.

“sorry, ungh, sorry,” comes from the right side, but less earnest and more please, just don’t stop. your other hand rubs at his bouncing leg. his eyes roll back under heavy lids, eclipsing his colorful irises.

“who wants to come?”

art smushes himself into your side and accidentally slides his dick through your returned grip, shuddering, “me, me—i wanna—.. please, it hurts—“

he swallows his mouthful of drool and buries his face into your neck. whines like a newborn puppy. grabs at your bicep.

patrick tugs roughly at the waistband of your bottoms, desperately wanting to slide his hand down and make you feel good. you can practically feel the waves of heat radiating off of his dazed body.

“i’m ready to come for you, feel me,” he takes his other hand and wraps it around your hand that’s holding his length, urging you to squeeze him a bit more and feel how much he needs it, “i’m so close.. so close, s’ close, i feel it coming..”

you slide your hands off of them at the same time. they crumple forward and moan brokenly at nearly the exact same moment, both feeling the swell of their peaks taper off painfully when your curled fingers caress the undersides. they pout and look up to your eyes.

“are you both going to be good for me?”

simultaneous nods follow the question. unsurprising. they share a look between themselves, then back to you.

you place a hand on the back of art’s neck first, then patrick’s. a soft smirk creeping over your lips as you urge them both forward in front of your eyeline.

they seem to get the hint, their gazes immediately fixating on one another. patrick’s the first to move, reaching his touch from your body to cup art’s ruddy cheek. the blonde leans into the touch like its some sort of lifeline, pleading for any point of contact he can get. he dives in and smushes his lips to the brunette’s, licking at his bottom one to beg for entry. pat obliges.

while you watch them begin to sync up, all broken sounds and lewd smacking and furrowed brows, you spit into your palms and bring them back down to begin pumping them. watching them kiss is like watching them play tennis: they know exactly what to do. it’s almost like they’re doing a dance.

art’s eyes flutter open and roll back, patrick’s squeezing shut tighter. their jaws slack and they lick into each other’s open mouths, gulping each other’s cries down greedily—like they’re consuming one another’s pleasure in the midst of their own. you feel a blurt of warm lubricant seep between your fingers from art’s cock, and a thrum of heat runs through your spine at the realization. he’s always been one to enjoy making-out. thoroughly, actually. he can finish just from it alone. patrick needs a bit more stimulation.

so, expectantly, the brunette chokes on a soft sob against his opposite’s bottom lip and drags his tongue over it. “more,” he murmurs, “aangh, jus’ a bit more—“

you stroke them both faster and they nearly break. pat bites down hard on art’s lip and art yelps, his hips bouncing with your touch.

“gentle, patrick, gentle,” you remind him, thumbing the ridge of his cockhead, the area pulsing and hot to the touch.

art sniffles, kissing his tennis partner deeper despite the sting from the clamp of his teeth. their hands are all over each other now. clawing at forearms and snagging handfuls of hair and gripping over shoulders. it’s a mess.

suddenly, patrick breaks the kiss and whimpers against art’s jaw—low and stuttered. art tries to kiss him again, too lost in the feeling to realize he’s stopped, but misses his lips and mouths at his cheek instead.

“i’m too close,” the brunette shudders, “please, can i come yet? i can’t hold it anymore, it’s gonna come out, gonna come,” he murmurs urgently.

“art, are you ready too?”

he nods, licking over the sweat on pat’s skin depravedly. he kisses him again, finding his lips. “mhmmmn—!”

you slide your hands up to begin rapidly jerking their tips, using their oozing evidence of arousal to work them up to their frayed ends. art squeezes patrick’s arm, mouth open and letting out little sounds that rise in pitch—higher, higher, higher—almost there. patrick tries in vain to fuck into your touch, his pelvis stuttering, his fluids leaking over his happy-trail.

“are you boys going to come now?”

art mewls sharply, patrick swallows thickly around a throaty sob. any more teasing, and you’d never hear the end of it. it’d be cruel, really.. and they’ve been good enough.

you press your thumbs to their tacky frenulums. rubbing quick, successive circles there. just how they like it—just what they need.

“.. let it all go.. show me how obscene and filthy you both look when you break..”

and they do.

they shatter.

their visions white out dizzily as the stimulation reaches the point of no-return; their mouths opening and bodies convulsing in ways that are nothing short of pornographic.

“oh, fuuuck—!” patrick gushes, ropes pouring from him in heavy waves, the paralyzing jabs of pleasure rendering him useless and twitchy as he orgasms. the thick, clotted load spills copiously.

a string of clinging spit bridges their lips as art leans back to pant raggedly. he looks down and watches as his own climax floods the gaps between your fingers and bubbles frothily as your movements refuse to relent. he uses his free hand to grab your wrist, thrusting reflexively as he hiccups and nearly squeals from the overstimulation. “ow—hmmngh—coming, coming, so much—“

you touch both of them until tears spring to the corners of their eyes, threatening to spill down their cheeks as they writhe and squirm in their seats. you suck your inner cheek between your teeth and bite down to resist the desire to torture their parts until they’re too fucked-out to form a thought. you’ve done it before, and it backfired when they weren’t able to stand up afterwards. all limp and shaky. maybe another time.

you slow your movements and slide your fists off of their shafts with a wet squelch, both of them curling inward from the oversensitivity.

“good job,” you croon, “didn’t realize you both were so pent up.. look at my hands..”

you hold up your messy palms to show them what they did. they look up with vacant stares, still breathing heavy and lost in the aftershocks.

“what do you say, hmm? you know what i need to hear.”

art lolls his head to rest on your shoulder and moans lowly, chest rumbling. patrick leans forward to sigh against your neck.

“thank you,” you hear on your left, “thank you so much,” follows on your right.

you smile.

“you’re welcome.”

[tyunniez]

golden retriver... bttm male reader

!!.. golden retriever bsf, yn is slightly tipsy but still fully aware, rough sex, creampie, grinding.

if your best friend is a dog type he would be a golden retriever.

he's quite literally the embodiment of it. everywhere you go he follows behind, a happy smile plastered on his face. he was almost like a lost puppy.

he also loves taking care of you and doing things for you every chance he gets, even things you could do yourself!

" yn, good morning! here, i got you your favorite drink. " he practically shoved said drink into your hand, your half-asleep state still trying to comprehend your surroundings.

" huh.. oh hey. thanks... " you groggily said, stepping away from the door and heading towards the bathroom to freshen yourself up. he let himself into your place, already familiar with it.

you came back to see him cooking your breakfast, humming a soft tune while placing your eggs on the plate. " yn, come sit down. "

you sighed while taking a sit on the stool of your island, your eyes boring into his back as you watched him lightly sway to the song he was humming.

" you know you don't need to cook me breakfast almost every day right? " you cracked open the drink he bought you and took a big gulp, already feeling rejuvenated by the drink.

he hummed and placed the breakfast in front of you, sliding his own portion next to yours. " eat up! "

after the delicious breakfast, came the time for you to do your house chores. you got up and grabbed both of his and yours plated, bringing it to the sink to clean it.

only for him to snatch it from you and wash it himself. along with the stacks of dirty dishes in your sink. you only rolled your eyes and walked away to do other stuff, knowing fighting against him would just be useless.

" so any plans today? " you asked him while folding your remaining laundry, him soon joining you. " ..mm nah. what's up? " he folded the last article of clothing and lay beside you, opting to place his head on your thigh.

your hand found its place in his hair almost immediately as if it was muscle memory. " well that one show that I've been wanting to watch finally dropped so.. beer and chicken tonight? "

he snickered below you, " you already know my answer, of course! "

and so, cans after cans of beer later and some delicious fried chicken, the both of you lay in each other embrace. the two of you weren't all that drunk because of your high alcohol tolerance yet you find yourself struggling to focus on the show.

were you actually drunk or is it because of the way your best friend is holding onto you right now?

you knew it was pretty common for best friends to cuddle but the way his big hand is cradling your waist right now along with his other hand right under your ass, his finger slightly touching it, is making your head spin.

not to mention his growing hard-on that you could literally feel since you were on top of him!

and you didn't know if there was something in the air last night or if tipsy you were just bolder but you decided to slowly grind against him causing him to have a full-on boner.

he on the other hand decided to ignore it and tried to focus on the movie in front of him.

you pouted at this and decided to continue grinding on him, trying to chase your own climax and also attempting to drive him over the edge.

but a firm hand grabbed onto both of your thighs, causing you to stop. " what do you think you're doing, yn? " he asked you, his voice way deeper than usual.

" i think you know what i'm doing. so stop playing dumb and give me what i want. " your voice is adamant, as your hands roam his chest.

he smirked and flipped the two of you, him now on top of you. both of his hands caged you in, making you more turned on than you already were.

" you better not regret saying that. "

" ahn! s-slow down! " you mewled out while gripping his biceps. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your dick twitched. your release finally comes soon after. the milky white substance staining your already cum stained stomach.

" again? we've barely just started, yn. " he chuckled above you. he loved seeing how overstimulated you look right now. he's been dreaming of making you a mess for a long time now.

when you first started grinding into him you didn't expect to get dicked down immediately by your own best friend and after experiencing just how rough he actually is, well, you're not complaining.

just seeing the desperate look on your face is making him go crazy. he's been dreaming about this moment for a long time.

he wondered just how you look like when he's on top of you, making a mess out of you. how do you look when you're overstimulated beyond your limit all because of him. just what type of sounds will pour out of you while he's deep inside of you.

and oh, this exceeds his expectations.

" mmh, yn. you look so pretty right now. " he sighed into your ear, his voice sending shivers up and down his spine. " i'm sure you can handle a few more rounds, yeah? " he gripped your hips again, getting ready to abuse your already puffy hole.

" no! i-i can't cum anymore-! " your whining was cut off by his harsh thrust, your tired voice seeming to be the cause.

you hooked your arms around his neck as a way to support yourself. loud moans escaped from your mouth, this only leading him to go faster. " fuck.. i-im cumming soon yn. "

your hole tightened as you heard his husky voice next to you, the hint of whining in his voice making you shake. " come inside me! p-please! need you in me so bad! "

he grunted out loud, his thrust soon stuttering and slowing down. " yn, fuck. you don't know how long i have been waiting for this.. "

with one last thrust, white soon painted your inside. his warm cum kept flowing more and more into your hole, making your own cum squirt out of your cock.

he immediately devoured you in a kiss, saliva dribbling everywhere. wet squelching sound enveloped the room accompanied by your heavy breathing. the movie that was long forgotten acting as white noise.

he separated himself from you to admire you and the mess he made of you. he smiles as he sees all the bite marks and hickeys littering around your body. the cum seeping out of your hole only made his dick hard again.

" shit.. i don't think i can let you go after this, yn. "

[starmocha]

sorry if this is too dark but if MC did die, how do you think each of them would react/the severity of the reaction? Obviously all of them would be crushed but I think Caleb would definitely either 1) end everything 2) end himself

Oh, I've written plenty of dark stuff before in other fandoms so...

So…do you guys have your tissues ready? Guys’ reactions to losing both you and the baby. For the sake of continuity, it follows the previous ask someone wondered about an MC with a risky pregnancy. I will be writing two other alternate “endings” another time (losing you, but baby lives & both you and the baby live. I won’t be doing a miscarriage/stillbirth one since no one asked.). These ficlets will also be available on AO3 in my fic collection, and we’ll chase after shooting stars.

(I actually do have a series with the guys grieving your death, but I am way behind on it. I have Zayne and Rafayel’s stories up if anyone’s interested in reading them.)

life moved on

Zayne would struggle internally, his logical side at war with his own emotional state.

He was a doctor. He knew there would always be a risk of loss. He himself sometimes had to be the one to deliver this type of unfortunate news to families.

Only, he just never imagined he would be on the receiving end one day.

He had monitored you throughout your pregnancy, learning more, and taking precautions wherever necessary. He knew the risk, he knew there was always that chance. But he had hoped. He had prayed. He had believed.

And it was all in vain.

He had been letting work consumed him. Life still moved on. The world would not stop for him, and there were still lives that he could save. There was not a moment to waste.

Sometimes, though, the world did slow down, everything pausing, such as now as he sat down at his desk lined with a row of photographs in frames. The snapshots of the life he had lost, of the future that should have been his, seemed to stare back at him in cruel mockery.

For just this moment, alone in his office, Zayne let his grief poured out, the heavy sobs filled the former silence in the room. In an hour, he would compose himself again, returned to being Doctor Zayne, and he would resume his duty, because life moved on.

But his heart stayed buried, resting with you and the child he lost.

no rest for the wicked

Rafayel falls into a deep depression, riddled with guilt, because he believes he is being punished for what he had said previously.

There was no rest for the wicked.

Rafayel couldn’t recall the last time he had slept peacefully, or even at all. Surely, this must be a punishment, right?

He had said such horrible words, so he was being punished for them, right? He didn’t deserve the baby, and he didn’t deserve you, so he was punished with the loss of both. That was a fair punishment, right?

He laughed, the sound so hollow and mirthless, his chest tightening with pain as tears trickled down his face.

Right. He didn’t deserve this.

So why should he deserve anything?

He grabbed an empty canvas and hurled it at the wall, destroying it instantly.

He didn’t deserve any of this.

He grabbed another, and another, and another. He incinerated several art pieces at various stages of completion, feeling nothing as they turned to ashes. He vandalized most of his studio, destroying his tools and everything he had ever created. There was no meaning to any of this anymore.

Heaving heavily and with a dagger in his hand, he turned to the grand canvas that filled the space of a wall. He plunged the weapon into it, dragging it down over and over again, his mind filled with a cacophony of his own voice and yours.

My fishie…I won’t leave you…

“Don’t lie to me…” he kept attacking the canvas, his words growing more frenzied, “Don’t leave me…I’m yours…I’m yours…you promised to stay…”

He dropped the dagger and fell to his knee, his forehead resting against the canvas as he sobbed. He was so exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep again in your arms.

“I’m sorry…”

forever would be nice

Xavier would feel so much guilt, almost as if he didn’t do enough to help you.

He felt so incompetent.

He should have done more. Should have done something.

Xavier could hear you scolding him, telling him it wasn’t his fault. Deep down, he knew it was true, but he wanted a reason, wanted an explanation for why that day happened. If he at least shouldered the blame, then maybe he could make sense of why he lost not only you but the baby as well.

Lately, it seemed like it was harder to wake up. He had not changed the bedsheet or pillowcases in a while, the scent of you still lingered, helping him sleep most nights. In these sweet dreams, he lived another life, his world completed with both you and the baby.

He wished he could dream just a little longer. Forever would be nice.

just enough

Sylus reverts to who he used to be, cold and distrusting.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to numb this pain, but maybe if he drank enough, he could begin to forget.

Forget the you who had fearlessly took his hand no matter how dangerous he was, the you who had wanted to bring light into his dark world, the you who accepted him for who he was, loved him just as he was.

Sylus’ hand tightened around his glass, the force enough that it shattered and shards pierced his skin. He stared emotionlessly at his cut hand, the blood dripping profusely to the floor not even registering in his mind that it was his.

As his wounds healed on their own, his eyes glazed over, and he remembered another day when there was so much more blood than this. There was just so much blood on that hospital bed, and he remembered how his voice was completely raw as he screamed at the panicked doctor and nurses, and then the chaos subsided, an eerie silence had followed, his whole world gone in an instance.

There was no noise. There was no warmth. There was no joy. There was only this sudden void in his life again, one that he had tried to fill for so long.

Not enough alcohol to numb the pain, not enough punching bags for him to take his rage out on, and not enough money to bring back what was.

If he could trade away his riches, his power, his glory, he would in a heartbeat for a chance to have you back, because with you, everything was just enough. He desired nothing else but you, the love and happiness you had brought into his life was enough.

always by your side

Caleb wouldn’t be able to bear living in a world without you, since his whole life since childhood had revolved around you.

There were hushed whispers throughout the Farspace Fleet, all quieted in an instance whenever Caleb passed by. The Colonel was always a strict man, his presence demanding respect for his authority, but recently, there had been a change, his demeanor hardening, his violet eyes dulled, a despair hidden beneath his icy façade.

One night in warm June, he left Skyhaven in the dead of night, catching a late train to Linkon. He disembarked, empty-handed, his feet automatically moving, his mind muddled with memories of a little girl who came into his life so long ago, of his promise to always be by her side, their lives always intertwined until that one awful day he was taken from her.

However, nothing could ever keep him from you. He would always find his way home to you, and no matter the storms in your lives, he would find a way to right things.

You were both going to be happy. There was nothing make-believe about the life you two were going to have.

You had worn a white dress, him in his colonel uniform, and with your hand in his, he had vowed his life to you once more, his joy boundless when you echoed back to him similar words. After marriage came the baby carriage, and you were all going to be a family of three.

He had always taken care of you, and he still took care of you even when there were concerns about the pregnancy. He had done everything right, made sure you were safe throughout, so how could things have gone wrong in the eleventh hour?

The moment you slipped from his life, his whole world stopped, the nightmares he had thought were gone returned with a vengeance, haunting him with dreams of that day over and over again. He had failed you, the hospital had failed you, everyone had failed you, because he would rather believe this than ever think he was always meant to lose you over and over again until you were ripped from his life for good.

It wasn’t fair.

He wondered what sin he carried to be punished with the loss of both you and the baby. A baby conceived from love, an innocent being, never once taken breath but only knowing death. Caleb wondered what kind of God would be so cruel, wanting to scream his anger out, wanting to demand answers to all of the questions that had been haunting him.

He stopped walking, seeing a locked gate blocking his path. He stared at it dully before he pulled out a gun, shooting the lock once with perfect precision. He continued walking, the path he was taking lined with rows of gravestones of those long departed from this world.

The one he wished to see was secluded, in its own area and hidden away, just like how he had always wished when you were alive. The world had never deserved you, and now he was even more convinced, you were always too good for this Hell on earth.

A grave among bushes of hydrangeas, his breathing suddenly became ragged. The air was heavy and he was pulled to his knees, his lungs tightening as he struggled to breathe, but for this brief instance, there was a smile on his face as he let go of his control over his Evol.

The gun he used earlier levitated ominously.

He started laughing, tears in the corners of his eyes. He could hear your voice again. You were calling for him.

Caleb! Caleb!

“I’m here,” he whispered, “I’ll always be by your side.”

Caleb always kept his promises to you. Always.

Among the dead, a deafening noise resounded, startling the wild creatures that lurked around the area.

Surrounded by the pink and blue and white of the hydrangeas, the summer seemed so endless now as the ground was dyed in crimson.

[sicklysweetgf]

I just want to fuck some nerd in his gaming chair 🥹💕

[sellieloves]

Hello it’s me again! If it’s not too much trouble for you can you please sketch out MysticCacao and Dark choco as one big family pls? I just want to see them happy (*_ _)人

@sugarfulwitch thank you for indulging me yet again!!

youre so real for this, these cookies make me ill 😭 need them to be happy NOW!! /aff

and apologies for this taking so long, here's another sketch in compensation >< (ft. cloud haetae as well hehe)

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

mean!rafe slowly getting soft for reader but she realizes what sort of sick person he really is so she leaves him and now rafe is the desperate one (this would be really appreciated pretty!!!)

i loved, i loved, i loved you

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — talks of murder, stalking, manipulation

summary — after overhearing a conversation between your boyfriend and his best friend, you begin to rethink your decisions.

authors note — can be read as a standalone but is apart of the mean!rafe series. part 1 is “i just wanna be one of your girls” and part 2 is “but i’ll do anything for you.” part 3 is up! “even when you pushed me away” i’ll probably make a masterlist for this cause it’s probably going to end up turning into a series tbh so lmk if i should do that! please request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“baby?” you heard him call out from the living room as the front door shut. he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack then followed the smell of food into the kitchen where you stood all pretty. you had a cute little pink sundress on, a white apron with a ribbon adorning the middle, and your hair was perfectly curled. “you look like a fucking dream.”

he walked over to where you were standing and pulled you into him with his big hands lightly squeezing at your hips. “thank you, rafe. i made your favorite,” you replied with a smile on your glossed lips as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “how was work?”

a sigh left his lips and his body tensed. “same thing as usual. nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he said with a kiss to your temple. “i missed you, angel.”

you frowned slightly and hugged him. “i missed you too, rafe.” you nuzzled into his chest deeper and he held you close, taking in the delightful scent of your shampoo. you pulled away a little sooner than he would’ve liked and pulled out his designated chair at the table. “why don’t you eat before the food gets cold?”

he nodded and sat down, laying the napkin over his lap and unraveling one pack of utensils you spent your afternoon packaging up to look professional. you sat across from him in your own seat and waited for him to take his first bite before beginning to eat your own.

he wrapped up some of the noodles on his fork and placed it carefully into his mouth while you sucked in a breath and waited for his validation. “it’s amazing, sweetheart,” he praised while getting more onto his fork. “you always prepare the best, you know that.”

you smiled to yourself and glanced down at your own plate, a red blush spreading across your cheeks. you began to eat as you two sat in a comfortable silence and enjoyed the pasta.

once he finished and was getting ready to get up and place his dish in the sink, you stood and beat him to it. “i’ve got it,” you said softly. you knew how long and draining his work days were and you’d do anything to make the rest of his day better.

“thank you, angel,” he replied gratefully while standing and brushing past you with a loving squeeze to your hip. “i’ve gotta finish up some stuff on my laptop. i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

you nodded and began to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. once you were all finished, you neatly folded your apron and placed it in the closet in the living room before heading up the stairs and to the office to see if he needed anything. before you could even knock, you heard a loud bang, which you assumed was his fist against his desk.

“goddamnit barry! i fuckin’ told you that i had it handled,” he spat into his phone. “i took care of him, alright? they got rid of the body, the evidence, all of it and now you’re over here screwing it up.”

the body? you placed a hand over your mouth to cover the sob threatening to slip past your lips. you pressed your ear closer to the door and waited for him to speak again.

you heard him curse under his breath and laugh angrily. “it was all going to plan and then—“ he paused. “get rid of him. do whatever you have to do, just fuckin’ get rid of him. i’ll do it myself if i have to.”

a tear hit your hand and you quickly backed away from the door and quietly walked into your shared bedroom. you immediately began throwing clothes into a bag until you heard the office door open. you shoved it under your bed and sat at the edge of it.

he came in and immediately made his way over to you, kneeling in front of you and holding your hands in his. “hey. what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

you just shook your head and faked a sad smile. “i jus’ miss you, rafe,” you lied as convincingly as you could.

he sighed. “i know, baby. and i’m sorry,” he mumbled softly. “look. i gotta go handle something really quick but we can spend the whole night together the moment i get back, ok? i promise.”

a shaky breath left your lips as you nodded and allowed him to kiss you then your forehead as he stood and made his way out towards the front door. the moment you heard it shut, you packed everything you could and sprinted out towards your car. you didn’t know how much time you had until he got back.

you were quick to disable your location on everything and turn on do not disturb before speeding off towards your parents house an hour away. you hoped it would be far enough and undisclosed so he’d never find you.

and only 30 minutes into the drive, you had 72 missed calls and 101 texts from rafe.

[sai-int]

babe i NEED more needy!simon im clawing at the walls please

on it 🫡

cw: phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, fem!reader

The bed feels impossibly empty without him. You lay there in the dark, the soft glow of your phone screen casting shadows across the room as you mindlessly scroll, trying to distract yourself from the ache of his absence. It’s been weeks since you’ve last heard his voice, the rare messages he’s sent barely enough to quiet the longing that’s burrowed deep into your chest. Sleep feels far away, and the cold sheets only make it worse.

Your eyes are just starting to drift shut when your phone vibrates against the nightstand, startling you. You snatch it up quickly, your heart stuttering when you see his name on the screen. He almost never calls while he’s deployed—it’s dangerous, risky, and you know better than to expect it.

The line connects before you can even sit up properly, and his voice, low and husky, comes through immediately. "Miss you, baby," Simon breathes, his tone rough, like it’s been ripped straight from the depths of his chest. "Fuckin’ miss ya so much, love. I can’t—’m losin’ my fuckin’ mind here."

Your breath hitches, your hand tightening around the phone. His words come fast, unsteady, and you can hear the strain in his voice, like he’s been holding it all in, waiting for this moment to unravel.

"I miss you too, Si," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "God, you don’t even know how much."

There’s a shuddering exhale on the other end, followed by a faint, rhythmic sound that you almost don’t catch at first. It’s subtle, muffled, but unmistakable—the schlick schlick schlick, wet slide of skin on skin. Your cheeks flush instantly, heat curling low in your stomach as the realization dawns.

"Simon…" you murmur, your voice dipping into something softer, more knowing.

"Can’t help it," he groans, the sound guttural, desperate. "Think about ya all the fuckin’ time—y'voice, y'touch… Jesus, love, almost got me killed out 'ere."

The noise grows louder, more insistent, like he's started to pump his ruddy cock even faster. You can picture him so clearly: sprawled out somewhere private, one hand gripping the phone, the other wrapped moving deftly around his cock, tighting at the base and twisting at the tip, just how he likes it.

"Tell me what you’re doing," you murmur, as if you don't already know.

A low, broken moan crackles through the line, and you hear the faint rustle of fabric as he shifts. "Touchin’ myself," he admits, shameless and raw. "Thinkin’ about you, about how tight y'are, how y'feel—how y'taste. God, ’m so fuckin’ hard f'you, sweetheart."

Your thighs press together instinctively, his words seep into you, settling in the slick that drools out of your cunt. "You all wound up baby? Miss me that bad?" you tease gently, though your voice wavers with your own arousal.

"You’ve no fuckin’ idea," he growls, his accent thick, the usual control in his tone completely shattered. "Need to hear you- Need ya t'help me, love."

Your breath catches, your heart pounding in your chest as you slide a hand around your body. "I’m here, Si," you murmur, your voice dipping into a husky whisper.

“Need ya t'talk to me,” he pleads, his words laced with desperation. "Tell me how you’d touch me if y'were with me."

You close your eyes, letting your hand trail from your perked nipple to you navel. "I’d start slow," you say softly, your fingers finding the slick heat between your thighs. "Kissing your chest, licking over every scar, every inch of you. I’d bite your neck, your jaw, your lips—until you couldn’t think straight."

He whines loudly, the sound rough and needy. "Fuck, love, keep goin’—'m so close."

"I’d lick from your neck to your waistband," you continue, your own touch mimicking the words as you run your fingers through your soaked folds, "wrap my fingers around you, stroke you nice and slow."

His breath hitches sharply, and the wet, rhythmic sounds on the other end grow faster, more erratic. "You’d kill me, wouldn’t ya, sweetheart?" he rasps, stuttering. "M-make me fuckin’ beg."

You bite your lip, rubbing tight, quick circles over your clit as you imagine him beneath you, all wet eyelashes and flushed cheeks. "You’d love it," you whisper. "Love the way I’d take care of you, make you feel so good. I’d let you come all over me—tits, face, wherever you want, baby."

His groans turn into hushed cries, and you know he’s close, probably soaking himself with pre. "F-fuck baby, 'm so close—I-I’m gonna—" His voice cuts off, replaced by a gasp, then a deep, shuddering moan as he cums all over himself, thick, hot ropes painting his torso and lifted shirt white.

You mewl as your muscles clench and the coil tightens in your belly, your orgasm hitting you in waves as you follow right after him. You bring the phone to your cunt, letting him hear how your cum mixes with your slick. All for him.

"Fuuuuckk... You're a bloody goddess, baby. I needed that," Simon finally murmurs, his voice soft and spent. "Needed you."

"I’m always here, Si," you whisper, your own voice thick with exhaustion and affection. "Even when you’re far away, I’m all yours."

There’s a long pause, the quiet hum of the connection filling the space between you, before he speaks again. "Love ya so much, sweetheart," he pants softly through the phone, making your heart ache.

"I love you too, baby." you reply, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to him. "Don't die with your dick out. Come home to me."

"I will," he chuckles softly, but his voice is firm despite the distance. "I’ll always come back t'ya."

mlist | part one

[missdollcouture]

can you make a really nice, smooth, productive morning routine please!!

p.s i love your blog sm!!

thank uuu! 💗

CREATING THE ULTIMATE MORNING ROUTINE

having a good morning routine starts with having a good night routine. none of this will be possible without a sustainable night routine

WHAT TIME SHOULD I WAKE UP?

the time you wake up depends on the time you go to bed. it is advised for you to get 7-8 hours of quality sleep each night. for example, if you wanted to wake up a 5:OOAM you would have to be in bed by 9-10:00pm, figuring out what time you would like to be up in the morning is all up to you and your preference

WHAT TASKS SHOULD BE COMPLETED IN THE MORNING

having a perfect balance of tasks in the morning is key to having a beneficial morning. things i recommend doing in the morning includes; movement of some sort, journaling, making sure your space is clean, doing some sort of activity to stimulate you mind, and making yourself look presentable.

MOVEMENT: implementing some sort of movement in your morning routine has several benefits. you'll notice it will increase your productivity throughout the day.

JOURNALING: adding journaling to your daily routine will boost your mood and energy throughout the day. starting your day with gratitude will overall improve you view on life.

CLEAN SPACE = CLEAN MIND: starting off your morning with a clean room ultimately gives you a clear head space for the day ahead. whether you decide to clean your room the night before or in the morning, it is super beneficial to have a clean space.

MIND BUILDING ACTIVITY : starting your day off with a mind building activity leads to better concentration, reduced stress, and an overall better mental state.

LOOK GOOD FEEL GOOD: getting ready in the morning and making yourself feel presentable ultimately boosts your confidence leading to better performance in daily activities, including: school, sports, etc.

[deliriousgrl-writes]

Riding nate in his room after a football game would be insane

YES especially if he was in a bad mood 👀

secret//nate jacobs x fem reader

cw: emotional abuse, male anatomy described, female anatomy described, secret relationship, unprotected p in v, degradation, fem reader tries to top for the first time, riding nate because he’s sad or mad or whatever’s going on in his pretty head, he’s rlly mean tbh, doesn’t matter because you’re obsessed with him and he is with you

you knew better than to try and open your mouth right now. nate was silent as he drove down the dark streets of your town, his jaw clenched and his big hand gripping the steering wheel hard.

you were nate’s secret, you knew that, and it hurt more than ever tonight. you had been watching him in the bleachers during his game, the stands crowded and loud. your eyes were on him the whole time, number eighteen and his tall form a force on the manicured green grass. everything was going well, nate was one of the greatest assets on the high school football team, usually being the one who won the games. but tonight had turned out different, nate had seemed distracted before the game, though you weren’t able to speak with him before the game had started to try and find out why. you had saw something different in his brown eyes, his usual pride and confidence missing as he set foot on the field.

east highland was winning, and you were smiling and happy, cheering with the rest of your peers and everyone on the bleachers. everything was going as great as it always did when you watched nate play football, the scoreboard letting everyone know that the team was going to remain undefeated. your eyes focused on nate, watching as one of his teammates threw him the ball, but instead of running, nate’s tall form stayed put. you weren’t sure what was going on with him, or where his dark eyes were looking, but he froze. it happened so fast from where you were seated in real time, but as you sat, wondering why nate wasn’t running to go ahead and win the game, time seemed slower. your heart began to beat faster, your brows pinched together, and before you knew it someone on the other team was knocking nate’s tall body backwards on the field. your eyes widened, standing up on the metal bleachers, worry ringing through you. you wished more than anything that you could run over to him, wanting to be beside him but were forced to watch as his teammates, coach, referee, and medic crowded around him on the bright grass of the field. you couldn’t be with him, because nate wouldn’t want it, he wished to keep you far away in his day to day life. out of sight from everyone. his secret.

you were still stinging with worry as he finally got up, his coach and the ref holding his tall body up, nate’s face looking down at the ground like he didn’t want anyone to see him. they pulled him off the field, away from your view while you were forced to watch the rest of the game. his team won, but you didn’t care, just yearning to be wherever he was.

nate usually spent time with you after games, after he was paraded around with his teammates, accepting cheers and smiles. you knew where you needed to wait after games, somewhere in the dark and away from any prying eyes, where nate’s silver truck would pull up and you’d have to struggle to jump in. so you waited, watching as vehicles drove out of the parking lot, people leaving and the bright lights of the field shutting off. you wrapped your arms around yourself, wondering how long it would take him to finally show up, wondering if he was in pain or was being taken to the hospital or something.

but he finally showed up, and that’s why you found yourself in the uncomfortable silence as he drove you to his house. you wanted to say something, all the words on the tip of your tongue, but if you said them you figured nate would only get angry, taking all his frustration out on you instead of himself. he would probably accuse you of thinking he was weak or something, a retaliation due to his own insecurities. he’d been seeing you in secret for about seven months at that point and you’d learned enough about him to know how seriously he took himself, how much he beat himself up for being any less than the man he wanted himself to be. who he pretended to be. it was his ego and more than ever, watching his tense body drive in the dark, his ego was bruised.

once nate finally pulled up to his large family home, you jumped when he got out, him slamming the drivers side door of his big truck with force. you winced slightly, your body on high alert when instead of opening your door for you and helping you get out like he usually did, he quickly jogged up to his front door. when you finally worked up the courage to make it out of his truck and into his house, you slowly walked up the staircase, your eyes scanning around the jacob’s family portraits, younger versions of nate making your stomach twist. his bedroom door was closed and you slowly turned the knob, walking into his tidy space, the smell of his room a small comfort to you. the sound of the shower running could be heard from behind his bathroom door, and you went to sit down on his bed, your heart racing as you wondered what kind of mood he would be in once he was in your presence again.

you’d seen how angry nate could be, how much his face would change and how his deep voice sounded when he screamed. he had scared you more than once during the past seven months but you cared too much to walk away. finding yourself clinging to him no matter how fucked up the situation he put you in was. it felt as if you were helpless without him, nate made sure of it, making sure that you had no one close in your life but him. even your relationship with your family was strained now, spending any ounce of free time you had with nate, one of his main rules for you. and you did what he said everytime, everything he wished. after all, you just wanted him. only him.

your eyes darted to the bathroom door once he walked out, seeing his tall, lean muscular body in only some tight black boxers, watching as he moved around his dimly lit room. a lump was in your throat, his hands pulling out some clothes out of his wardrobe, his broad shoulders tense. you shifted nervously on his bed, his soft duvet under the exposed skin of your legs under your dress. nate liked when you wore feminine things like dresses and skirts, and you quickly changed your preferences to meet his, always wanting him to enjoy the way you looked even if you were uncomfortable.

he finally sat on the edge of the bed and your eyes stayed on him from where you sat near his pillows. you could hear his deep breathing, his slightly tanned, muscular upper body on display. the clothes he’d just dragged out of his wardrobe were piled beside him at the end of the bed but he made no move to put them on. your heart started to race as he put his head in his hands, him not making a sound but obviously showing signs of distress. “nate?” you whispered, anxiety in your limbs.

you could see him take a breath before he spoke, his deep voice low. “what?”

his reply was a bit muffled in his large hands still covering his face and you found yourself feeling bad for him. you knew that he was beating himself up because of the mishap at his game and you wished that he wouldn’t, your heart clenching in your chest. you let out a soft breath before moving on the bed behind him, your fingers a little shaky as you hesitantly placed them on his broad shoulders. his muscles tensed beneath your fingers and he pulled his hands down from his face, his elbows still resting on his thighs as he turned his head a little to look at you before you spoke. “are you-”

he cut you off before you could finish your sentence, his brows furrowing a little. “don’t even start,” he interrupted, his jaw clenching as he narrowed his dark eyes at you. it was as if he didn’t want you to try and comfort him at all, to just ignore how he was feeling and what had happened during his game. it made you upset, though you would never say so, not wanting to make him angry. you bit your lip as he turned away from you again, your hands still placed on his shoulders. you knew he didn’t wish to talk about how he felt but you also wanted to do anything you could to make him feel better. to ease his stress and try to turn him back into the nate you usually knew, the one who kept you hidden from his world but would also be the kindest, most doting boy you’d ever met. the boy who’d secretly left sweet notes in your locker, the boy who would pull you into dark corners in the high school you both attended to flirt with you and make you blush uncontrollably. of course nate could be rough during sex with you, but you didn’t mind, you liked it, one of the things nate made you realize about yourself. no matter how hard he would push you, no matter how rough, he would wrap you in his arms afterwards and praise you. kiss you all over and make you believe that he really saw you as all the good things he said he did. that you really were so good for him. so you decided to make him feel better the only way he would allow you to, taking the lead for the first time since he’d been sneaking around with you.

you closed your eyes for a second before you started, still feeling the lump in your throat and anticipating a bad reaction as you started to press your lips to his shoulders from behind. you did it over and over, gentle and soft, feeling his hot, freshly showered skin beneath your lips and smelling the delicious smell of his body wash in your nostrils. you rubbed your hands down his toned back, still pressing kisses to his skin. you finally felt him start to relax though he didn’t turn to look at you just yet, making you still feel weary as you continued. you were nervous to even be doing this, nate was always the one who initiated, always the one who kissed or touched you first, but you kept going, starting to feel yourself ache for him as you ran your hands over the muscles of his back.

you were on your knees behind him now, sitting up a bit as you leaned your head over beside his own, pressing your lips to his neck. you closed your eyes, your small fingers climbing up his back to his shoulders before traveling down to his collar bones. you were enjoying how warm and strong he felt beneath your fingertips, how heavenly he smelled as you slowly kissed the side of his neck all over. your eyes widened when he suddenly got up, making you fall back a little on his mattress, meeting his dark gaze as he peered down at you. you felt scared for a moment, wondering if his mood still hadn’t shifted from feeling your lips on his skin, but it quickly dissipated some as he leaned down and crawled over you. his strong arms were on either side of your head as he hovered over you smaller body, his face only inches from your own and you felt his hot minty breath over your skin. you didn’t wait for him to speak or move, you wanted to be the one who made him feel good, you wanted to make him feel all the things he was always making you feel. so you reach your hands up and cupped both his cheeks beneath your palms, pulling his head down a little as you finally crashed your lips onto his. nate reciprocated the kiss, thankfully for you, and you pulled him down lower, wrapping your arms around his neck to get closer. he pressed his body against you, his body heat making your stomach swirl and you could already feel how hard he was in his tight boxers, his tip poking into your leg. nate’s breathing was getting faster as you moved your lips over his, your fingers going to tangle in his damp, short hair.

nate was always making you feel high off him, the way his hands touched you or his lips tasted making your brain go fuzzy and your heart pound. you moaned into his mouth when he pressed his hardness into you, making him bring his hands down and grip your hips, pushing you hard against his bed. a fire was building inside of you as he dug his fingers through the soft material of your dress and into your hips, his mouth beginning to move a little more hungrily over your own.

you wanted him to forget about how the game went, forget about all the stress he was under, forget about anything but the way you felt in his hands and how your body craved his own. and it seemed to be working. he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and lifted your body up a bit, forcing you to sit in his lap, your thighs on either side of his hips. you could feel his cock pushing through his boxers against you, your dress concealing it but his hardness was pressed against your panties. it made your stomach burn and your body ache, knowing that he wanted you. you were still kissing him, your hands still in his hair as his own large hands ran up and down your sides. he pulled away, though his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging it a bit before releasing it, making your breathing hitch. “what do you want?” he mumbled, his voice low and a bit breathless.

your face was already contorted into a needy expression, your head above his as his hands roamed over your body, his fingers squeezing a little as he gripped your ass through your dress. “to make y-you feel better,” you finally whined, his fingers digging into your bottom more. he nodded his head, looking up at you with his dark eyes, a sight that made you feel weak and like his prey.

“you wanna make me feel better? then let me use your tight fucking pussy,” he barked, moving his hand up to quickly grab a handful of your hair and tug your face down lower so that he was looking down at you. you whined, the painful sting of him pulling your hair versus how much pleasure you got from his cock still pressing up against your panties making you grow even wetter and achy. “say yes,” he commanded, narrowing his lustful gaze on you.

“yes,” you whined, nodding your head over and over. he pulled your face up to his again with your hair in his fingers, crashing his lips onto yours forcibly. his tongue traced between you lips, the taste of his toothpaste still on his wet tongue and making you whimper into his mouth. he released your hair, his hands moving to your hips and pulling you on top of his muscular body, his head hitting his pillows as he kept kissing you. you were straddling him, already lost in pleasure because of how intoxicating it felt to be wanted by him, a sensation you were always chasing it seemed. he pulled away, his breathing heavy as you stared down at him from above with wide, desperate eyes. he bucked his hips up, making you gasp in pleasure from feeling his clothed cock against your soaking core that rested in your panties still.

“you’re so fucking worked up already,” he taunted, “such a slut for me. already begging me to use your cunt.” his deep voice and degrading comments only made you ache more, already ready to start begging like he always made you. “i can feel how fucking soaked you are, even through my underwear. leaking all over my cock like a needy whore,” he smirked, shaking his head, “you like it, don’t you? letting me feel how much your pussy aches for me? i bet you want me to touch you right now and feel it? you want that, don’t you?”

you bit your lip, nodding and feeling him buck his hips up into you again, making you release your lip and moan. “don’t nod, say it. say, ‘i want you to feel how wet my pussy is for you.’ say it.”

he always made you say filthy things like this, but it turned you on so much. you really were needy for him, he could use you as he wished, however he saw fit and you wouldn’t complain. oh, how lost in him you really were. “i-i want you to feel… i want you to feel how wet m-my pussy is for y-you,” you stumbled out, your heat growing wetter as you said what he wanted you to say. he nodded, bringing his large hand up and cupping your cheek, his palm warm as he rubbed your face with his thumb.

“exactly. i know how much you want me,” he purred, his eyes peering into yours, “how much you want me to just fuck you until your fucking screaming. you know only i can make you feel that way right?” you nodded, actually agreeing with him. “now do what you said you’d do. make me feel better and take off your pretty little dress for me like a good slut.”

you immediately started ripping off your dress, so eager for him to touch your bare skin. you finally pulled it off your head, throwing it somewhere in his tidy room, leaving you in only your matching baby blue bra and panties. nate let out a breath, taking both his hands and starting to tease you with his fingers, tickling your skin as he started moving his fingertips up your thighs, over your hips and sides, before stopping as he got to your shoulders. your body twitched and squirmed on top of him as he did so, and you knew he enjoyed it. he liked teasing you until you were desperate for him, until you couldn’t take anymore. he smirked as he watched you shiver when he started pulling down your bra straps, his feather light touches making you squirm on top of his hard cock that pressed through his boxers.

nate pulled down your bra straps all the way, the cups of your bra releasing your breasts, your chest heaving, making them rise and fall, up and down as you stayed on top of him. “look at these tits,” he whispered, his deep voice still low, “your nipples are hard already. you want me to touch them, don’t you? yeah, i think that’d make me feel a lot better. you want me to feel better, right?”

“yes,” you whimpered, feeling his fingertips trace around them, the skin under your breasts and above them on your chest. you bit your lip, taking a breath when he finally started to fondle you. his big hands were warm on your skin, goosebumps raising all over your trembling body. the skin of his palms pressed against your sensitive nipples, making you let out a sharp gasp and choking you up. you looked down at him, his dark eyes directly on your face, an evil smirk on his lips.

“god you’re such a whore,” nate smirked, still keeping his voice quiet, “i can feel you getting wetter, you know? you like how my hands feel on these pretty tits, don’t you?” you nodded, already feeling overstimulated from his touch until he squeezed your breasts harder, his fingers dipping into your skin until it almost hurt. you let out a muffled cry, your voice choking from how worked up you were getting, from how turned on you already were. you’d do anything he said, let him touch you as he wished, tease you until he saw fit to give in. you let him be selfish, you knew that part of him would never change.

after his tight squeeze with his warm hands, he finally reach around your trembled form to unhook your bra, the blue material falling down over his abs beneath you. he grabbed it quickly and threw it somewhere in his clean room. “now,” he breathed out, almost rolling his eyes at you from how much you trembled and squirmed on top of him, knowing he could be rude to you right now because you didn’t care how he treated you in moments like this, because you secretly liked it, “you’re going to be a good girl for me and you’re going to take off those panties and you’re going to take my cock and ride me till i cum, okay? that would make me feel so much better.”

your needy face looked down at him, his fingers hooking into your cotton panties and teasing the skin on your hips, his eyes narrowing on you a bit and waiting for your submission. you’d never been on top of him before, never rode him. but he was asking you to, and he did say it’d make him feel better. you couldn’t help but whisper a soft, ‘okay’ and move off of his tall body for a moment, giving in despite your nerves. you slipped off the edge of his bed, standing there, feeling exposed with his gaze all over your body. you started to take your underwear off but he quickly stopped you as soon as you started, his voice sounding annoyed as he spoke. “turn around and let me see you bend over as you take them off,” his deep voice instructed you, a tinge of annoyance still evident in his tone, “go on.”

you bit your lip as you obeyed him, turning around and bending over slowly as you slipped your soaked blue panties off your body. they hit the ground and you stepped out of them, swallowing before you turned around. your heart started racing once you saw him, his own underwear off now and his thick, long cock in his hand. he rolled his brown eyes when you didn’t automatically step over and get back on the bed, annoyed that you just stood there and looked at his hardness. “do what i told you to do,” he sighed, his brows pinching together as he heard your soft rapid breaths, “i told you what would make me feel better, now do it.”

you nodded and crawled back on top of his tall, muscular body, the both of you now naked. you felt his cock from beneath you, your wetness resting on top of it and making your body heat up and your pussy ache painfully. his hands were digging into your hips, his nails painfully sticking into you as he waited impatiently. “stick it in you,” he gritted out, narrowing his eyes up at you again, “i know you don’t need any fucking time for foreplay. you’re practically dripping on my cock right now. so do what you want. you’re greedy like that, aren’t you? maybe you don’t even care how i feel or want me to feel better, maybe you just want to be a greedy slut and feel my cock inside you…”

“no,” you blurted out, blinking down at him as you shook your head, “i-i want you to feel better, nate. i want to do whatever you say that will help you right now.”

nate bit back a smirk at your words, looking up at the ceiling like he was trying not to laugh at you. he was cruel like that, but something about how his actions degraded you, only made you want him more. always wanting to please him. “okay,” he finally said, his dark eye boring into you, “then stop leaking all over me like a needy slut and actually take me.”

you quickly reach your hand down, lifting up on top of him a bit with your legs. your fingers wrapped around his large size and quickly pulled it up to your entrance, letting out a tiny moan when his tip hit your soaked entrance. he fingers dug into your hips more when you did, silently telling you to hurry and drop down on his cock. you shut your eyes as you lowered yourself on him finally, feeling him stretch you out, a loud whine leaving your lips as you finally took all of him.

“now bounce that pretty body up and down on my cock,” he instructed, or demanded, “make me ‘feel better.’” you started moving up and down on his length, the sensation new and pleasuring, the position making you love the way he looked up at you with his dark eyes, how his pupils dilated until his irises were almost black. his lips parted, pants leaving him as he kept his large hands on your hips and guided you up and down his cock. his deep voice let out a low groan, making you almost fall apart already, even if you’d just started. “you better not cum yet,” nate threatened, his words coming out breathy and dark, “i’ll be mad.”

you kept going, unable to stop the small whines and whimpers that left your mouth, his cock hitting your sweet spot everytime you lowered yourself back down on him. you shut your eyes tightly and he dug his nails into your hips again when you did, a silent reminder to keep them open and on him. you let out a choked whine, staring back down at him and trying not to cum, his chiseled features and heavy breaths from below you making you want to scream. “keep going,” he warned you, “don’t cum like a stupid slut already, you’re better than that. keep making me feel better, don’t be selfish.”

you would rather be damned than to not keep going for him, to not obey his breathy commands, so you kept up your movements on him. you kept yourself steady by bringing your small hands down to his heaving, broad chest, his black, hungry eyes boring into yours as you kept whining. you tried not to chase your own pleasure, trying to be keenly aware of how fast or slow you went, feeling when his legs would tense or when he’d groan so you knew you were making it about him. “fuuuck,” he groaned out, his eyes wide as he brought one of his large hands over your naked breast, squeezing as you continued to ride him, making sure to lift off of him and slam back down on his length, something that seemed to make his tall form tense and the muscles in his toned thighs twitch beneath. you were enjoying drawing these noises and reactions out of him, making him feel good, wanting him to praise you soon for doing good.

“you’re making me feel really good,” nate panted out, squeezing your hard nipple between his fingertips, earning a whine from you while keeping his other hand on your hip, “you wanna be good for me, don’t you? my little secret loves making me feel good.”

you moaned out a hitch pitched ‘yes,’ slamming yourself up and down his throbbing cock quicker. when he called you his ‘little secret’, it made you feel so dirty, but you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tighten from the expression. you loved being his secret, loved that he wanted you all to himself and the fact that no one knew who you belonged to, only him and you. you’d gotten used to lying for him quickly, and now, seven months later, being his secret was your favorite thing to be.

you felt yourself about to snap, biting your lower lip until you tasted copper as you tried to remain concentrated on him. it was hard, especially because he kept groaning and egging you on, knowing how hard it was for you not to cum when he spoke or made noises. nate knew your body and reactions well, and he used that knowledge to tease and taunt you, to wreck you completely during sex. it was his way, and you couldn’t do anything about it, which he reveled in.

“you’re squeezing me so tight,” nate choked out, “i can tell you’re about to cum. you better not, you’re doing this for me, remember? say it. say you won’t cum because you need me to fill you up first.”

nate’s demands and taunting sounded so dark coming from his deep, breathless voice. it was hard not to fall apart just from the sound, but you obeyed his command, your voice shaky and high pitched because of how much you were struggling not to come undone. “i won’t cum! i-i won’t! need y-you to fill me up first. please!”

nate let out a dark chuckle, grinning a sinful smile as he heard how close you were in your choked cry. “good girl,” he murmured, squeezing your hips with both his big hands, making you cry out as you felt how deep his nails were pressing into you, wondering if he’d leave bruises and struggling not to cum from the thought of him leaving his marks on you, “keep going. you’re lucky i’m about to fucking cum, gunna fill your tight cunt up real good. fuck- keep squeezing on my cock, i love feeling you about to fucking snap.”

“nate!” you whined out loudly, going as fast as you could on his length, his hard grip on your hips guiding you up and down and making you keep up your pace. he shook his head at you, denying your release, serious about you making him cum first. he was panting and groaning, his toned thighs tensing from beneath you, his grip on your hips never loosening.

finally, only a minute later, he was groaning even louder, his grip on your hips starting to slow your movements as he came inside you. you were practically screaming as you felt his length throb and twitch inside you, how his warm release was deep in you cunt. “there!” he growled out suddenly, his brows pinched together as his lips stayed parted as he breathed rapidly, “now you can fucking cum!”

that’s all it took, his permission making you twitch and moan uncontrollably on top of him as you finally found your release, even if your movements had stopped completely. you felt his cock start to soften inside you as he dug his nails into your hips still, knowing that simple action alone could draw out your orgasm further. your thighs shuddered around his hips as you finally started to come down, struggling to keep yourself upright on his body as you panted loudly in his quiet room. nate noticed, and despite liking the way you struggled, he wrapped his long, strong arms around you and lifted you off of him and down beside him on the bed. you closed your eyes as you tried to relax against his pillows, the muscles in your body beginning to grow tired as you finally came down fully.

he laughed at you darkly, something he often did when he saw how spent you were from him making you cum. nate pulled you closer to him as he laid on his side, pulling the soft duvet on his bed over you both to cover your bodies. “open your eyes,” he chuckled.

you fluttered your heavy eyes open and looked at him, the vicious smile still on his handsome face as he looked over your features. “thank you for being good for me,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and your cheek, making you relax even more, “you know that i do care about you, right?”

you nodded, wanting to believe him even if it was hard to decipher his true feelings. he nodded too, pressing a couple kisses to the side of your face, and wrapping you tighter in his arms. “so good for me,” he murmured against your skin, making a pink dust appear on your cheeks and your chest warm.

you never wanted this part to end.

[txrully]

hii can I request blue lock boys comforting their s/o thats on her period? (if your uncomfy w this than jst ignore it)

Thank you! 💕💕

YOU'RE MY COMFORT!

·˚ ༘ ꒱ summary when they comfort their s/o who's on her period

·˚ ༘ ꒱ characters isagi yoichi , bachira meguru , itoshi rin , nagi seishiro , mikage reo , chigiri hyoma , hiori yo , shidou ryusei , itoshi sae , michael kaiser , alexis ness

·˚ ༘ ꒱ warning fem!reader implied , lowercase intended

·˚ ༘ ꒱ a/n eeeek i took a kinda long hiatus after exams so sorry this was late- TT

·˚ ༘ ꒱ isagi yoichi

isagi would be so sweettttt. like he’s 100% the type to google how to make your girlfriend feel better on her period and then go overboard. he shows up at your door with snacks, a hot water bottle, and a look of absolute determination.

“babe, i got chocolate, tea, and this random teddy bear i found. will that help??”

he also tries to distract you with soccer highlights and ends up ranting about strategy while you just cuddle into him. lwk adorable.

"yoichi, i don’t need all this, i’m fine—"

"nope. it’s my job to make sure you’re 100% okay!"

"…you’re too much."

"too much in love with you? absolutely."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ bachira meguru

bachira treats your period like it’s an adventure. he calls it “battle week” and declares himself your knight in shining armor. he’s running around like a maniac, making you laugh so hard you forget the pain.

he also makes you random art to cheer you up. one time, he drew a stick figure comic of you fighting a “period dragon” with a sword made of chocolate. you almost cried laughing.

"meguru, what is this??"

"you slaying your period. literally."

"you’re so dumb… but i love it."

"mission accomplished!!!!! >:D "

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi rin

rin is… awkward. but he triessss. when you first tell him, he just blinks and goes, "okay. what do you need?" and when you say “nothing,” he goes into silent problem-solving mode.

he might not say much, but he’ll keep you company, bring you your favorite drinks, and make sure you’re comfortable. he’s like a walking checklist. it’s so sweet how seriously he takes it.

"rin, you don’t have to—"

"you said you have a headache, so i’m staying until it stops."

"you’re so stubborn-"

"you’re welcome."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ nagi seishiro

nagi is… so chill. you tell him you’re on your period, and he’s like, "oh. okay. do you wanna nap?" because in his mind, that fixes everything.

but the second you actually need something? he’s ( surprisingly ) up and moving faster than you thought possible. he’ll even let you steal his hoodie and hog all the blankets.

"sei, can you pass me the—"

"already got it. now come back to bed."

"why are you so good at this???"

"because i'm used to this by now."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ mikage reo

reo treats it like a high-stakes situation. he buys you EVERYTHING—snacks, heating pads, your favorite drinks, and even a blanket that looks like a giant burrito.

“what else do you need? should i call a doctor? a masseuse? build you a pillow fort?”

he’s over the top ( *cough* more than usual *cough* ), but it’s so sweet you can’t even be mad.

"reo, you don’t need to do all this—"

"yes, i do. you’re in pain, and i don’t like it."

"you’re insane."

"insanely in love with you, yep."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ chigiri hyoma

chigiri is so calm and collected about it. he’s like, “i got this.” he makes you tea, rubs your back, and lets you vent about how annoying it all is.

he also takes you on peaceful walks or sits with you by the window, brushing your hair and talking about random things to keep your mind off the cramps. it’s giving romance movie vibes.

"hyoma, you’re like… weirdly good at this."

"i have a sister. i’ve trained for this moment."

"oh my god, of course you have."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ hiori yo

hiori is the gentlest bean. he’s like, “do you need anything? want me to get you soup? should we watch your favorite movie?” he’s so soft and accommodating, it’s almost ridiculous.

he also writes you little notes to cheer you up, like: “you’re stronger than cramps 💪 i believe in you!!”

"hiori, this note is so cheesy—"

"but did it make you smile?"

"…yeah, it did."

"then it worked. :D "

·˚ ༘ ꒱ shidou ryusei

shidou is chaotic as ever, but surprisingly… thoughtful? he shows up with junk food, a heating pad, and an attitude like, “let’s beat this period’s ass together.”

he’s also the type to jokingly pick a fight with your u t e r u s ( you read that right ), yelling things like: “how dare you hurt my girl?! square up, you coward!” it’s dumb, but it works.

"ryu, stop yelling at my uterus—"

"not until it apologizes."

"you’re so stupid."

"but you’re laughing, so i win."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi sae

sae is quietly attentive. he doesn’t say much, but he notices everything—like the way you hold your stomach or wince when you move. suddenly, you’ve got a hot water bottle and your favorite drink in your hand, no explanation needed.

he’ll sit with you in comfortable silence, scrolling on his phone until you’re ready to talk. it’s subtle, but you feel so cared for.

"sae, you didn’t have to get all this—"

"you’re in pain. of course i did."

"…thanks."

"don’t mention it."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ michael kaiser

kaiser is so dramatic about it. the second you tell him, he’s like, “mein gott, my poor love! what can i do?!” he acts like you're about to be taken from him.

but honestly? he’s surprisingly good at making you laugh and keeping your spirits up. he’ll even let you boss him around for the day.

"michael, stop being so dramatic—"

"i can’t help it! your pain is my pain!"

"you’re ridiculous."

"and you love me for it."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ alexis ness

ness is the sweetest little bean. he immediately offers to make you tea and snuggle on the couch with your favorite blanket. he’s like a human heater—so warm and comforting.

he also sends you texts like, “you’re doing amazing, sweetheart 💖 cramps don’t stand a chance against you!” pure angel.

"ness, you’re being so extra—"

"only because you deserve it!"

"you’re such a dork."

"your dork 🥰."

© txrully

copy/translate/plagiarize/repost my works in any way and i will be under your bed 🥰

likes + reblogs always appreciated <3