#big guy is barely in there but he's in there!

[shouyuus]

tsukki, contrary to popular belief, actually really likes being little spoon -- because it's hard to be big spoon all the time, hard to always be the one doing the holding -- and sometimes, even guys who act tough (especially guys who act tough) are the ones who want to be held the most.

so you hold him, your arms looped around his middle, pressing kisses to the nape of his neck, the place where his spine meets his skull, nuzzling your nose against the soft blond hairs there, and he curls in, presses his back against you till you're sure you can feel every ridge of his spine ribbed along your chest.

"you smell nice," you mumble into his skin. he shifts in your arms, grumbling slightly.

"i smell like me," he says, his voice muffled by the blankets tucked around his shoulders.

you smile, nuzzling in further, "yeah... and you smell nice."

he hums, reaching down to lace his fingers with yours over his stomach.

"what do i smell like?" he asks.

you burrow ever further in, breathing in his warm, musky scent.

"you smell... kinda like sourdough," you say, giggling as tsukki makes a strange, sleepy, indignant noise.

"i smell like bread?"

you giggle, "the best, most delicious kind of bread."

tsukki sighs, shifting as he twists in your arms to face you. like this, he can easily flip you over and pin you down, do whatever he pleased with you, and you'd be helpless to do anything to stop him. the thought makes you shiver, makes your skin pebble up with goosepimples.

instead, he leans down to press his forehead to yours.

"and you smell like butter, sometimes," he says.

you nod, letting your eyes flutter shut, "sounds like we were made for each other."

tsukki scoffs, turning back around, "cheesy."

"nope, just buttery," you grin, pressing your lips to the warm, bare skin of his back. you feel him relax against you.

"go to sleep."

you nod, settling in, "you first."

"i've been trying but someone keeps on saying that i smell like bread."

you crinkle your nose, "i just said you smell nice. you were the one who asked for details."

tsukki makes an aggrieved noise, but doesn't turn around again. instead, he tugs your hand up to press a soft kiss to your palm before bringing it back down to his stomach.

"sleep," he says.

you grin, nodding, leaning forward to press your forehead to the nape of his neck. you take a deep breath in, reveling in the warm scent of him.

finally, you agree, in a soft, satisfied voice, "yeah... sleep."

[snottyped]

human idol!reader whose fan base is mostly monsters, when they do a meet & greet they have to be careful with the things they accept as gifts lest a monster declares they are now courting you since you accepted a hand-made trinket or fur, scale, etc.

security guards are a must and no one is better than the shapeshifter monster who is secretly your biggest fan 🥰

-disgrace

signed, stalked, protected

Yandere shapeshifter x female!Idol!reader

note: I might’ve changed the prompt a bit? Apologies

You knew today was going to be weird the moment someone tried to hand you a scale the size of a dinner plate.

“For you, my goddess,” the dragon girl whispered, eyes glowing with molten adoration. “From my chest. Nearest the heart.”

She bowed. Deep. Reverent. And handed it over like it was nothing.

You smiled. Said “thank you.”

Big mistake.

Security swarmed in seconds.

“Back! Back, now!”

You blinked as the dragon was gently—yet forcefully—ushered away. One hand was already on your shoulder before you turned. His hand.

“Do you know what that meant?” he asked, voice velvet and danger.

“Free scale?” you said.

Your bodyguard—officially listed as ‘Special Operations Agent 009’, unofficially known to you as The Guy Who Scares Vampires—just stared.

“No,” he said flatly. “It’s a mating gift.”

You blinked.

“It was shiny,” you muttered weakly.

“You smiled,” he replied.

“I’m an idol! I’m supposed to smile!”

He didn’t answer. Just exhaled like he was mentally preparing to incinerate every gift table in a three-mile radius.

You were halfway through your fan meet-and-greet and had already “accidentally accepted” a fur braid (werewolf proposal), three hand-carved bone charms (ogre betrothal customs), and an eye-shaped crystal that whispered "Forever mine…” every thirty seconds.

Apparently, being a human idol in a monster-mixed world came with fine print. Dangerous, deeply romantic, borderline-ritualistic fine print.

Backstage, you were fidgeting with your earpiece when 009—real name unknown, real species unknown, jawline illegal—entered the dressing room without knocking. Again.

He looked irritated.

Or maybe that was just his default face.

You tried to joke. “So, how many magical marriage proposals did I say yes to today?”

He gave you a long look. Then?

“Seven.”

You choked.

“One of them left a claw soaked in pheromones,” he added. “That’s not just a gift. It’s a biological bond marker.”

You stopped breathing. “A what?”

He didn’t smile. Not really. Just moved closer. Slowly. A quiet intensity in every step that made your heart skip.

“You need to start letting me vet your gifts.”

You tried to keep your voice light. “Wouldn’t that make you the jealous type?”

He said nothing.

But his eyes—they twitched. For one moment, not the usual black. Gold. Silver. Then a ripple beneath his skin, like his form was... correcting itself. Stabilizing. Like something inside was pulling against his control.

“I’m not jealous,” he said finally, softly. “I’m territorial.”

The room went quiet.

So quiet you could hear the buzz of your mic still on. The sound of your breath catching. The hum of the lights.

Then he stepped even closer.

“You smile for them. You thank them. But you don’t know what you’re inviting.”

He reached past you, plucking a small box from the table. The ogre’s bone charm.

With one flick of his fingers—crack. It split. Clean. Casually brutal.

Your voice trembled. “They’re fans.”

“They’re predators.”

He turned to you fully now. His expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—starvation and restraint. The look of someone holding themselves back. Just barely.

“You’re prey.”

You weren’t sure why your knees felt so weak suddenly. Or why your pulse spiked.

“...And you?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it.

He paused.

Then leaned in—slow, controlled, his face inches from yours.

“I’m the monster they fear most.”

Your breath hitched.

His hand lifted. Hovered. Almost touched your cheek… but didn’t. Just ghosted near it, reverent. Desperate.

“And I’m the only one who knows how to protect what’s mine.”

Your heart thudded wildly.

You swallowed. “Am I yours?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

Because his other hand? Still behind his back? Was clutching something. A handkerchief. One you dropped last week. He hadn’t returned it. Hadn’t mentioned it. Just kept it. Quietly. Secretly.

It still smelled like your perfume.

You didn’t bring it up. Not the stare. Not the almost-touch. Not the handkerchief.

But the next meet & greet? He was worse.

Not a single gift got within ten feet of you. He burned one fan’s offering mid-air with a calm flick of his hand. He bared his teeth at a banshee.

And when a gorgon tried to hand you a bouquet of blood-lilies—serious courtship symbol—he didn’t even blink.

“You touch her,” he said, voice low, eyes flickering again, “and I turn you to stone.”

He didn't smile as the fan fled. But you could’ve sworn he looked… satisfied.

You didn’t say a word.

Just smiled. For real this time. Maybe… a little toward him.

He didn’t smile back.

But his fingers grazed your wrist as you stepped offstage.

And the whisper under his breath?

“Mine.”

note: sorry no nsfw in this one!!!

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | come back to bed

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @makanirock05) : you tell your f1 boyfriend to “come back to bed” while they're gaming or doing something and when they come in the room you flash them ;) (tiktok trend)

୨ৎ : genre : comedy / tik-tok trend ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 2783

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : you guys KNOW i love writing these trend posts.. also monaco weekend lAWDDDDD I HAVE BEEN ANTICIPATING THIS MOMENT.

ʚ・max verstappen

the sound of engine revs echoed down the hallway — max was deep into some sim racing session, probably mid-championship, headset on, completely in the zone.

you leaned on the doorframe, wearing nothing but one of his oversized red bull shirts and a mischievous smile.

“max,” you called softly.

he didn’t even glance up, adjusting the wheel with intense focus. “mhm?”

“come back to bed,” you said, voice sweet and low.

still nothing — just the clicking of paddles and the occasional mutter in dutch. a full-on tunnel vision moment.

you bit your lip, then slowly stepped into the room, arms folded behind your back.

he must’ve sensed movement in his periphery because he finally glanced toward you. just a glance.

and then?

immediate double take.

his eyes widened as his jaw went slightly slack. “wat de f—”

you didn't say a word. just dropped the shirt, still holding it in place for now, and tilted your head toward the hallway. “bed. now?”

the silence that followed was deafening. his car slammed into a barrier on-screen, the thud echoing through his headset, but max didn’t even flinch. his controller dropped to the floor like it offended him.

“okay—yeah. yes. i’m—give me a second.”

he tugged the headset off so fast it caught in his curls. tripped over the wires. stepped on his own sock. you didn’t even move — just stood there, blinking innocently as if you weren’t actively destroying the man’s brain.

he crossed the room in three big strides, his hands reaching for your waist like it was pure muscle memory. “you planned this.”

you smiled. “i don’t know what you mean.”

“you definitely planned this. i was leading.” he kissed your shoulder, then lower. “now i don’t care.”

“you lost?”

max looked up at you, eyes dark, voice low. “i’m about to win something better.”

you barely had time to laugh before he scooped you up — shirt still dangling from your hand — and carried you toward the bedroom like the sim rig had ceased to exist. the sound of his game over screen blinked softly in the background.

“max,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, “you didn’t even pause.”

he grinned against your skin. “i did. i paused my whole life. for this.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

it was late, but lewis was wide awake, perched at the edge of the couch with his laptop in front of him and his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. some kind of zoom call played quietly — a team debrief or maybe a sponsor meeting. you couldn’t tell. you weren’t paying attention.

you were wearing one of his t-shirts, soft with age and hanging off your shoulder. nothing underneath. not really planning anything… until you saw him push the glasses up and bite his lip slightly while concentrating.

yeah. it was absolutely planned now.

you padded softly into the room, leaning on the doorframe just out of the camera’s view.

“babe,” you whispered, voice low and teasing.

lewis glanced over with the faintest smile. “hey, baby. i’ll be done soon.”

“come back to bed.”

he didn’t look up right away. “i will, i promise. just gotta finish this slide.”

you stepped closer. still out of frame. still innocent.

and then you let the shirt drop.

his jaw didn’t drop, but his hand froze on the keyboard. his eyes flicked from the laptop to you, down your body, and then back up to your face — expression completely unreadable for a second.

then he said, very calmly, to his screen: “can you give me two minutes? i’ll be right back.”

he didn’t even wait for the response.

the laptop snapped shut in one swift motion.

“lewis—” you started, backing up with a giggle as he stood up, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants.

“you can’t just do that,” he muttered, stalking toward you with a calmness that was somehow more dangerous.

you took one slow step backward. “do what?”

he smirked. “walk in here like that. drop that shirt like it’s nothing.”

“it was nothing.”

“mhm.” he reached you, fingers sliding gently along your bare waist. “it’s something now.”

your back met the wall, but he was already pressing a kiss to your shoulder, slow and deliberate.

“thought you had a meeting,” you teased breathlessly.

“not anymore.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling as he tilted your chin up. “that was fast.”

he chuckled, voice low in your ear. “there was a much more urgent situation happening in the hallway.”

you didn’t say anything else. you didn’t need to.

the laptop sat forgotten on the couch — screen off, meeting abandoned — while lewis carried you right back to bed.

ʚ・george russell

george was hunched over the dining table, sleeves rolled up, laptop open, glasses on, and completely immersed in a spreadsheet titled something painfully dull like training metrics - q2 review. you watched him from the hallway in silence for a moment, admiring the little furrow in his brow and the way his foot tapped softly against the leg of the chair.

you weren’t trying to distract him. not at first.

but then he let out a soft sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, and your brain short-circuited. you were still in his shirt — just his shirt — and he hadn’t come back to bed like he promised.

so you padded across the hardwood floor quietly and leaned on the wall near the kitchen entrance. his back was to you, so you cleared your throat.

“george,” you said sweetly.

“mhm?” he hummed, not even turning around. still typing.

“come back to bed.”

“in a moment, love. just finishing this—wait—”

you dropped the shirt.

he heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor and finally turned his head — just a little. then a little more. then he full-on spun around in his chair like a dramatic movie character discovering a plot twist.

his mouth parted just slightly, eyes going wide.

“good god,” he whispered.

you gave him a sheepish shrug and a cheeky smile. “bed?”

george blinked hard like he was trying to reboot. “that… that is so unfair.”

you laughed as he stood, chair squeaking back against the floor. “i was being productive.”

“you still can be,” you teased, stepping back slowly as he approached, tugging his glasses off with one hand and tossing them onto the table without breaking eye contact.

“not when you’re walking around like that. christ.”

“are you blushing?”

“i’m british. of course i’m blushing.”

he reached you, hands gently settling at your waist, voice dropping lower. “you know i had two more pages of data to go through?”

“consider this a better use of your time.”

george leaned in, kissing your forehead first, then your lips — slow and warm and full of restrained chaos. “i’ll be giving you my full attention now.”

and with that, the spreadsheet was long forgotten. the only numbers he cared about tonight were the goosebumps rising across your skin.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was lying on the couch, shirtless, legs stretched out, fifa controller in hand and a smug look on his face. you could hear the commentary from the game echoing softly down the hallway — he was winning. of course he was.

you leaned on the doorframe, wearing the thinnest tank top and underwear, watching him like he was some sort of wildlife documentary subject. calm. focused. unbothered. and clearly neglecting his “i’ll be right there” promise from twenty minutes ago.

you cleared your throat. “carlos.”

he didn’t look away. “mhm?”

“come back to bed.”

he laughed under his breath, still controlling his virtual team. “let me finish this match, cariño. i’m almost done.”

you stepped into the room, letting the soft overhead light catch the curve of your body as you moved to the side of the couch — just out of reach.

“carlos,” you repeated, voice slower, sweeter. “come. back. to bed.”

he glanced up.

and that’s when you dropped the tank top.

it hit the floor silently.

carlos didn’t.

his thumb missed the joystick, sending the ball flying into the corner flag, and his jaw literally dropped open. the controller clattered to his chest as he just stared — fully, openly, no blinking.

“madre de dios.”

you raised your brows, all innocence. “something wrong?”

he blinked. “do that again. i dare you.”

you smiled, tilting your head. “do what?”

he groaned, sitting up like gravity had stopped working, running a hand down his face. “you’re trying to kill me. i swear.”

“you’ve been playing for so long…”

“i was playing well—until you came in here with your evil tricks.”

“are they working?”

carlos stood up slowly, gaze trailing over you like he was trying to memorize the moment. “you think i’m just going to let that slide?”

you laughed and took a step back, holding your hands up. “hey, i just made a request.”

“you made a statement,” he muttered, already circling the couch.

“where are you going?”

“to make sure you never have to ask me to come back to bed again.”

you shrieked when he lunged, catching you by the waist and lifting you effortlessly. he carried you off toward the bedroom like a man on a mission — fifa completely forgotten.

“your game!” you giggled, kicking your legs.

“it can lose.”

carlos was officially done playing — just not the way you expected.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was at the piano.

hair messy from a shower, plain white t-shirt hanging just right, fingers dancing effortlessly over the keys. he wasn’t even reading sheet music — just lost in some improvisation, humming softly as he played.

you were supposed to be patient. you’d already said “come to bed” once and he’d mumbled “just a few more minutes, amour.” that was fifteen minutes ago.

now?

now you were done playing nice.

you padded softly into the living room, the only light coming from the dim lamp by the piano. you didn’t say anything. just stood in the doorway for a second, watching him — this boy who looked like art, who played like he was trying to say everything he didn’t know how to say out loud.

“charles,” you said gently.

he kept playing, glancing over his shoulder with a lazy smile. “oui, chérie?”

“come back to bed.”

“i’m almost—” he started, then froze.

because the second he turned his head fully, you let the robe fall from your shoulders.

soft, slow.

deliberate.

you were wearing nothing underneath.

his hands stilled on the keys mid-note. for a moment, he just blinked — once, twice — like his brain needed a second to process what his eyes were seeing.

then?

his mouth parted just slightly. “putain.”

you stepped closer, saying nothing, letting the silence thicken like syrup between you.

“are you trying to ruin me?” he asked, voice low, breath catching just a little. “because it’s working.”

you smiled, all innocent. “you said five minutes.”

“that was before you—” he gestured vaguely, eyes still fixed on you like you might disappear if he blinked.

“you looked busy,” you teased, walking over to him slowly.

“i’m about to be,” he muttered.

he stood, chair scraping softly against the hardwood as he reached you. his hands settled on your waist gently, reverently, like you were breakable. his voice was a whisper against your skin. “you walk in here like that and expect me to keep playing?”

“i was hoping you’d switch instruments,” you said sweetly.

he huffed a laugh — strained, desperate. “you’re impossible.”

you leaned up to kiss him, slow and teasing, and felt the sharp exhale against your mouth as he melted into you.

the piano sat behind him, long forgotten, as charles slid his hands down your back and murmured something in french you didn’t quite catch — but didn’t need to.

you already had his full attention.

ʚ・lando norris

lando was deep into a stream — headset on, focused expression, yelling at his teammates like they could actually hear him better if he leaned closer to the mic.

“BOX, BOX, BOX—NO YOU’RE MEANT TO COVER THE INSIDE, YOU TWAT!” he yelled, halfway off his chair. you’d been watching from the hallway for a few minutes, biting your lip, waiting for the right moment.

you were wearing his mclaren hoodie and absolutely nothing underneath.

it was time.

you knocked on the doorframe gently. “lando.”

he glanced over, smile automatic. “hi, babe. i’m almost done, yeah?”

“come back to bed,” you said sweetly.

“promise i will—give me five mins, i’m in the last few laps.”

you tilted your head. “are you sure?”

“baaaabe,” he whined, eyes back on the screen, “i’ll be quick i swear.”

so you dropped the hoodie.

soft fabric pooled around your feet.

he didn’t see it immediately — but when he looked again, mid-turn, his reaction was instant and explosive.

his head whipped toward you. controller dropped. car went off track. he yanked off his headset like it had personally offended him.

“what the f— oh my god. oh my—babe.”

you blinked innocently, still standing there in absolutely nothing, hands behind your back.

“i—did you—what—why?”

you shrugged. “i was cold. needed you to warm me up.”

he blinked like you’d slapped him. “i just drove into the wall.”

“oops.”

“no no, not oops,” he said, standing up so fast the chair nearly tipped. “that’s—i’m gonna crash again. on purpose this time.”

you giggled as he crossed the room toward you like a man possessed, eyes wide, mouth parted in disbelief. “you flashed me. mid-race. you flashed me.”

“i asked you to come back to bed.”

“you’re naked!”

you tilted your head. “so are you, technically, under your clothes.”

he groaned like he was in pain, hands running through his curls. “oh my god, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying into him. “wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

he let out a choked laugh, already backing you toward the bedroom, mumbling under his breath. “someone clip that stream. i need to see the exact moment i lost the will to compete.”

“and what’re you doing now?”

he kissed your shoulder, voice rough. “retiring. immediately. full dnf.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar was perched on the edge of the bed, laptop open, ipad in hand, headphones in—all business. his brows were furrowed in that quiet, determined way he always got when reviewing footage, laser-focused on sector times like they were sacred.

he’d been sitting like that for almost an hour, eyes flicking between data sets like he wasn’t actively ignoring your very obvious attempts to get him back under the covers.

you were trying to be patient.

but then you caught your reflection in the mirror—one of his oversized shirts hanging loose off your shoulder, legs bare, nothing underneath.

and your brain said: what if?

you walked to the doorway and leaned your head around the corner.

“oscar,” you called gently.

he didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of acknowledgment. “mm?”

“come back to bed.”

“i will,” he said distractedly, scribbling something on the ipad. “just want to finish this last lap analysis.”

you stepped into the room. “you sure?”

“yeah, it won’t take long.”

you dropped the shirt.

it landed softly at your feet.

oscar finally looked up.

and stopped breathing.

his hand froze mid-air, stylus hovering inches above the screen. his mouth parted slightly, not dramatically, but in that rare way he only ever looked when he was completely, truly speechless.

you blinked innocently. “problem?”

his voice cracked a little when he answered. “i’m… gonna need to pause.”

you watched as he calmly removed his headphones. closed the laptop. put the ipad aside.

then slowly stood.

“you planned this.”

“me?” you said, stepping back as he approached. “never.”

“you’re naked.” his voice was calm. controlled. except for the very obvious shake at the end of the word.

“you weren’t listening.”

he stopped in front of you, jaw tense, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“i was listening,” he said softly. “i just didn’t think you’d weaponize it.”

you smiled. “effective, though?”

“devastating.”

you leaned up to kiss him, and he caught your waist mid-movement, fingers digging in just a little harder than usual.

“you’re evil,” he muttered against your lips.

you kissed him again. “you love me.”

“unfortunately,” he whispered, lifting you into his arms like it was the easiest decision he’d made all day. “i really, really do.”

the laptop beeped in protest somewhere in the background, but oscar didn’t hear it.

he had a new favorite sector to analyze.

and it wasn’t on the screen.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[oopsiedaisydeer]

cover your ass in flour and knead it

smut, flour play, ass appreciation, manhandling, marking, chris is a menace <3

word count - 500ish

Dolly just wanted to bake something sweet.

She’d put up her hair, tied it off with a pink ribbon, and rolled up her sleeves with the kind of quiet focus she always had when it was time for a midnight snack. There was flour on her cheek, her favorite playlist humming low in the background, and a mixing bowl waiting patiently for butter and sugar.

But then Chris wandered in, shirtless, a bruise already forming on his ribs from God knows what, grinning sleepily like he already knew he was going to ruin her plans.

Now she’s bent over the counter, legs barely stable beneath her, the hoodie she stole from him hiked up around her hips. There’s flour on her thighs, and Chris’s hands are very much not where they’re supposed to be.

“Chris,” she breathes, trying to sound annoyed. It comes out whiny. “I was gonna bake…”

He squeezes a handful of her ass, pulling and bunching the skin. “So bake.”

She swats at his shoulder. “I meant, like, banana bread. Not–”

“Cover your ass in flour and knead it,” he mutters, low and amused, eyes glinting. “Same thing, really.”

He palms her ass with both hands, kneads her like she’s dough and he’s starving. His fingers dig in deep, spreading her open a little, thumbs pressing bruises into the softest parts of her as if he’s shaping something with real care.

Then he grabs the bag of flour left carelessly beside her and with absolutely no shame, scoops a handful, dusting her like she’s a damn countertop. White powder clings to the curve of her, fine and soft, and he hums like he’s impressed with his own work.

“Gotta flour the dough before you knead it, right?”

Dolly squirms, half-laughing, half-melting, her elbow braced against the cabinet next to them. “You’re such a freak.”

Chris leans in, presses his mouth to her neck. “You love it.”

And then he really gets to work.

Big, warm hands spread over her hips, greedy and rough, fingers digging into her like he’s trying to mold her. He squeezes, palms full of flour and her, thumbs pressing into the crease where thigh meets ass, spreading her just slightly, enough to make her whimper and hide her face in her hands.

He laughs low and filthy, voice honeyed with mischief. “Aw, don’t go shy on me now, Dolly.”

She’s blushing, she knows it, heat blooming across her cheeks and chest, her plait unravelling with every breathless squirm. But Chris just leans in, nose brushing the small of her back, dragging his mouth down until his lips hover right above that flour-dusted curve.

“Might need a taste,” he mutters, breath hot, hands keeping her still. “Just to make sure you’re sweet enough.”

And then he bites. Just a graze, just enough to make her yelp, hands flying back to grab at his hair like she doesn’t desperately want him between her thighs.

He presses her forward a little, hips pinned to the counter, one hand slipping between her legs with a lazy confidence like he’s got all the time in the world. Like banana bread never existed.

“Say the word, Dolly,” he murmurs against her skin. “And I’ll eat you right here.”

a/n: i hope you guys like this sdhbfjdsb!! and also this au is open to requests btw <3

ib: this text post from @sweetshuga which i've been thinking about for months and also this p!link 😊

thanks for reading!!!!!!!! likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

dividers by @enchanthings ꨄ

[totalswag]

can you do singer!reader preforming at coachella singing bed chem and when it gets to who’s the cute guy with the wide blue eyes the camera pans to drew

wide blue eyes ⎯ DREW STARKEY.ᐟ

authors note thank you anon for this request. this is kinda short eek. feedback is always appreciated <3

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary performing one of your popular songs at coachella on stage. when a certain line us sung, drew's face is on the big screen.

warning(s) adult themes, mild suggestive content, intimate performance.

Performing at Coachella on the main stage is honestly a dream come true in your career. Seeing the large crowd in front of you had you feeling a lot of emotions. You couldn't be more happier.

As you look into the crowd, you notice the vip section where friends were standing with security close by. Drew, your boyfriend, stood next to Maddie. A bunch of other well known celebs⎯your friends⎯were in the vip section too.

You've just finished singing one of your most popular songs. Walking around with your microphone in one hand and the other fixing your hair, "How's everyone feeling tonight?" Your voice was overflowing with enthusiasm.

The audience cheers in response. You smile feeling their energy rise. Throughout the whole set, they kept the energy going.

“All right, Coachella,” you breathe into the mic as you step into the light, heels clicking over the stage, your sheer bejeweled dress catching every flash, “let’s talk about chemistry.”

The opening chords of "Bed Chem" come in like a seduction, sensual and sweet, and the roar of the audience fills you with fire. You move with it⎯every sway of your hips, every seductive peek over your shoulder is precisely timed.

I was in a sheer dress the day that we met

You smile in-between lyrics, thinking about the first time meeting Drew at an event. Seeing him for the first time felt like a fever dream⎯only talked for a second but felt as if you've known him.

A few lines in, you approach the edge of the stage, winking at the crowd, letting them sing the ooh, ah's back at you. Then it comes⎯the line. The one that always gets them.

You slow your walk. Let the silence draw in, just for a breath.

Out of breath, got me going like (ooh)

You drop into a crouch, knees wide, hair cascading over one shoulder as you lean into the mic with a guttural “ooh”⎯drawn out and breathy. Your chest rises and falls like you’ve just run a mile, and it’s not just for show. You feel the lyric in your bones, in your skin.

The crowd eats it up, losing their minds as you rise slow, controlled, and grinning like you’ve just won the game you were playing.

Who’s the cute guy with wide blue eyes

Right on cue, the camera cuts from your smirk to the front row.

Drew.

The crowd cheers louder when he appears on screen. Hair a little messy, wearing your tour lanyard and a denim jacket half-slipped off his shoulder. Blue eyes impossibly clear under the lights, lips parted like he’s been caught off guard

Maddie screams behind him, "that's her boyfriend!" pointing to him. He laughs at Maddie's statement.

On tour, you never had him on the big screen at your shows whenever he came. With how you were feeling earlier this week and him tagging along, you wanted to add in a little surprise for the fans. Obviously they were expecting that.

How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round

You spin⎯slow, suggestive⎯dragging your hand up your thigh, then letting it fall away as the lights pulse harder. Sweat’s beginning to gather at the back of your neck, but you barely feel it. You’re on fire, lit up from the inside out.

As you continued performing the song, you couldn't get Drew out of your head. You felt his eye burning in you the rest of the set.

By the end of Bed Chem, you throw a wink over your shoulder, then turn to walk away slowly⎯heels clicking like punctuation⎯giving the crowd just a flash of your open back and the sheer train of your dress swaying dramatically behind you.

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[sexy-monster-fucker]

Thunderbolts* Boys + Cockwarming

Reader is also a member of the Thunderbolts* (ft. Bucky Barnes, John Walker, Bob Reynolds, and Alexei Shostakov)

CW: Thunderbolts* spoilers, fingering, bathing together, kinda thigh fucking, hurt/comfort, dry humping,

a/n: my first time writing for most these guys! really excited to dip my toes in the waters of more characters

Help Me Move?

~~~

Bucky Barnes

Far too fancy suit jacket sat upon his shoulders. Hair slicked back and tie too tight against his throat. Dress shoes bruising the bottoms of his feet.

Another meeting. Congressman Barnes must attend. It was his duty. As if he had not given enough of himself to the government. Or how he still fought day in and day out to protect the city from the next big threat with the New Avengers. Too busy for an old man to be. Even if he was a super soldier.

Bucky swore he never got tired, but you knew better. Knew the side of him that would come home with his shoulders hanging low. Scruff thicker than normal from where he had no time to trim it. Bloody and bruised. Far different from the version of him that stood before you now.

It was late. But you always stayed up to see him. You sat on one of the many couches in one of the many rooms in the new and improved tower. A space intended to relax. Something none of you could spare time to do. Save for moments like this. Where you had finished your own mission and were able to just sit for a moment. Pretending like you had not gotten home only an hour ago. Barely out of the shower. In some comfortable clothing.

Put together Congressman Barnes stood across the room. Case clutched at his side. Knuckles white from the strength he used. It must have went poorly.

You greeted him with a smile. Trying to lighten the mood. Knowing he was not prepared for chitchatting. Mind still filled with the days worth of government jargon. His brows sat heavy upon his eyes. Mouth downturned in a frown. Seriousness leading his demeanor.

Bucky walked over to you, throwing his case absentmindedly into a chair beside where you sat. Shimming his jacket off his shoulders. Plopping down onto the couch beside you. His weight sinking you further into the cushion. Forehead falling against your shoulder. Silently taking in your warmth and scent. Fresh out the shower, he could tell. Wishing he could have joined you.

Your hand petted through his hair. Sticky gel catching against your fingers. His eyes rested closed, breathing loudly through his nose. His hand rested on your exposed thigh. Shorts leaving little covered.

His metal arm wrapped around your back, guiding you onto his lap. Hands now on your hips as he looked up at you. You rested your hands on the fronts of his shoulders. Staring into his hooded icy eyes. His looking between your lips and eyes. Pressing forward to kiss you longingly. Missing your taste throughout the long day.

“Missed you real bad,” he mumbled between kisses.

“I missed you too,” you whispered with a smile. You cupped his face in tender palms. Continuing to press your lips together. His stale cologne filled your senses. Mixing in with the musk of hair gel.

His hand began rubbing circles into your skin. Daring to push his tongue past your lips to taste you better. Fingertips finding their way under the fabric of your shorts.

Removing his hand from you to fumble with the buckle of his belt. Ripping it off his waist and throwing it in the floor. Quickly arching upward so he could pull his pants and boxers down his legs. Cock freed from the confides.

You blushed at the sight. Tip swollen and a bead of cum already at the slit. Feverishly red with his want.

His fingers pushed your shorts to the side. Exposing your slick core. Eyebrows bouncing momentarily at the reveal. Corner of his mouth upturning as he looked up at you. Your face beautifully flushed. Accented by the pale light of the room. Eyes blow with want. You were his girl.

Bucky ran a finger agonizingly slow up your slit. Collecting your juices on his digit. Pushing it into you. Your body rutted forward, hands grasping onto his shoulders for dear life. Moaning delightfully soft in his ear.

“Can I put it in?” Bucky asked politely. Kissing the side of your head with his question. Not being able to wait any longer. He needed relief. Found within you.

“Bucky. What if someone comes in—“

“They won’t,” he said sternly, “I just… need it.” Losing the strong exterior for a moment. Coming out of his shell. You were one of the few he could lower his guard around. Allowing himself to feel human with you.

You nodded. Trusting his judgement. Pushing yourself up on your knees so that he could line himself up. Grasping at his base as he slowly guided you down onto him. Sinking until your hips were flush together. Bucky groaned for a moment. Wide eyes looked into yours, brows knitting softly. A little crease forming between them.

He filled you entirely. Stretching you out and brushing your cervix. Not moving, just allowing the closeness to speak for itself.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his back. Resting your head against his chest, nuzzled under his chin. The steady strum of his heartbeat soothed you. Your eyes fell closed. Balancing out your breathing to match his.

His arms held you close against him. Palms flattened along your back. Fingertips digging into your flesh.

It all helped him relax after such a long day. Locked together with his lover. Quietly savoring your touch. Knowing no one would disturb you. Not right now.

~~~

John Walker

The sound of your door sliding open woke you up.

Sitting up and seeing the familiar silhouette of the former Captain America. Backlit from the low lights of the hallway. His shoulders slumped, figure leaning against the doorframe. Pain clear from the way he carried himself.

His mission had been draining. Sent out on his own after everyone refused to join him. Being stretched too thin with assignments.

His muscles ached. Barely holding his head up as he breathed heavily in the doorway. Suit still adorning his body. Blonde locks disheveled and sticking to his sweaty forehead. A hint of shake in his hands. Obvious he had worked himself too hard.

You threw your blanket to the side, joining him at the doorway. Your hands cradled his bearded face. His eyes fell shut at the relief. Now you could fully see him. Little cuts and bruises decorated his face. Dried blood along his suit and neck. Thumb outlining the razor thin cuts, some still bleeding.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

Silently, you interlocked fingers with him. Not an ounce of fight left in him. Leading him into your bathroom where you started the shower. John was barely able to keep his eyes opened. Defeated and finally being able to let his guard down.

Your hands flattened along his chest. His heartbeat rapid against your touch. Breathing deeply with a locked jaw. Wordlessly, you encouraged him to turn around. Helping slide his leather top down his arms. Revealing his beaten back. Scars and forgotten wounds peppered along his flesh.

Tossing the sweat ridden garment into your hamper. He turned to face you once more. Chest beautifully full of blonde and brown hair. Muscles accented by the dim light of your bathroom. Bloodshot eyes tenderly looking down at you. You carefully undid his belt. Pulling his pants down his legs, assisting him with removing each leg. Discarding to the same place as the other.

Even though you had already showered, you removed your own clothing. Guiding him back into the tile shower. His shoulder rested against the wall. Back facing the water. Rivering down the ridges and valleys of his skin. Loving fingertips tickled down his arms. Slowly circling all the spots covered in dirt and grime. His hands gripped your waist, wanting to feel grounded. Knowing you were right before him. There for him. Caring for him.

Allowing the pain and suffering from the day to go down the drain. Reaching behind you for the shampoo you had. Nails softly scraping his scalp as you washed him hair. John’s throat bobbed with each touch. Eyes squinted shut as he savored the feeling. Groaning at your touch.

Gently cradling his head back to rinse. Suds circling the drain. Sucking them away down the pipes. Reaching for your body wash. Lathering his torso with the soft scented liquid. Being especially careful with the cuts that littered him. Articulated fingers got each bit of dried blood and dirt and debris off his body. Reluctantly making him turn so you could get every inch of him. Kissing his shoulder blade as you washed down his body.

John’s hand gripped the wall below the shower head as you finished scrubbing him. Cleaning away any worries and pain that still remained upon him. Taking your time to pour water down him. Getting each and every soap bubble off.

Smiling at him. His hair was soaked. Blonde locks darkening from how filled with water they were. Droplets falling from his beard. His skylike eyes watched you. A smile daring to tug at the corner of his mouth. Stepping forward and pulling you into a tight hug against his strong chest.

Vulnerable and nude together. Bare skin pressing into the curve of the other. Your hands rubbed up and down his back, reassuring him that you would always be here. Anytime he needed you.

John pressed a kiss into your cheek. Backing away to look at you again. Exhaustion finally catching up with him. Blinking slower than he ever had before. It was all so sweet.

You reached to shut the water off. Grabbing towels for both of you. Helping pat down his sore body. Making sure to get any remnants of water off him.

Realizing that none of his clothes he left were clean. Beating yourself up for not doing the laundry sooner. Feeling like you were letting him down.

John shrugged, a smile finally coming across his lips. Loving the idea of your nude bodies pressed together. Sharing intimacy under your blankets. It was one of his favorite things to do.

Both of you walked back into your bedroom. Shutting off all the lights and snuggling under your covers. John’s arms wrapped tightly around your lower stomach. Chest hair tickling your spine. Forehead pressed into the back of your skull. Both your hair still a little damp causing a slight chill to run down your body.

One of John’s hand snaked down to your bare core. Slowly beginning to rub circles against your clit. Your back arched, pressing your ass firmly against his growing cock. Eliciting a low moan from him. His lips pressed a myriad of kisses into your neck. Humming in satisfaction at the way you ground against his member.

Fingers left your soaking core for a moment, wrapping around your thigh. Lifting it so that he could slide his erection between them. Allowing your leg to rest back in its previous position. His hips thrusting. Pinching him between your legs. The head bumping against your sensitive clit.

“Wanna be inside you,” John sighed.

You nodded, arching your leg up so he could enter you. Sliding in without friction, hips meeting your ass. John whimpered in your ear. Arms draping around you once more. Kissing right below your ear.

Knowing it would feel good to get release. But sleep called out to him. Begging him to rest. To allow his body to recover. So he remained still against you. Face nuzzled in your hair against your pillow.

Finally able to truly relax.

~~~

Bob Reynolds

A crack of lightning illuminated your bedroom.

Storms had been persistent for the last week. Sheets of rain pattering against your windows. Blurring any view you had outside. You laid on your side staring at the glass. Sleep wanting to wash over you, but something told you to stay awake.

A knock at your door.

You knew exactly who it was. Getting up and walking over to unlock the door. Sliding open to reveal Bob. Fiddling with his fingers in his oversized sleeves. Lips pushed tightly together as he looked around the hallway, finally meeting your eyes when he realized. Gaze softening.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled. Blinking slow as you looked at him. A nervous man. But learning to calm those anxieties. He was gorgeous. As much as it pained you to remember, Valentina had been completely right about him being the perfect man.

“Everything okay?”

Bob swallowed, clicking his tongue as he thought, “Uh, yeah! Wait— no, I mean— no. Can I come lay with you?”

He hated the storms. Too loud. Too forceful. Reminding him of when he would have to hide under his bed as a child. Later being mocked and ridiculed by his father for not being a man. So when he found out storms kept you up late at night too, he thought it smart for you to console each other.

You were always happy to invite him in. Stepping back to let him inside. This happened often enough that he had his own side of your bed. Where he now moved the blanket so he could get under the cover. Goofily grinning over at you. Watching how you stepped over to him.

Both of your cheeks glowing with sweet blush. Finding more comfort in each other’s company than you ever had before. Bob’s dark eyes followed you intently. Loving the way your legs poured from your shorts. There was definitely a reason you only wore them to bed.

You crawled into the bed, Bob quick to lazily press into you. His head nestling into the crook of your neck. Soft breaths fanning over your collar. Arms loosely draping around your waist. Fingertips meeting the swell of your ass.

Another loud clap of thunder.

Causing Bob’s entire body to jump. Alarmed and holding tightly against you. Breath coming out broken and shaky as he tucked his face further into you. As if you would somehow protect him from it.

You readjusted so that your legs were tangled together. Pressing as close together as possible. Bend of your knee meeting his groin. Causing him to shutter. Fingers digging little crescents into your cheeks. Breath catching in his throat.

He was already hardening from the simple pressure of your leg. Really easy when you are as touch starved as him. Losing himself in the way your heartbeat sung to his ears. How tenderly your hands caressed him, playing with the back of his hair. Able to feel how deeply you cared for him simply from your touch.

His lips pressed a chaste kiss into your neck. Nose cascading along your pulse. Whimpering softly as he began to roll his hips against your knee. Finding a distraction from the raging storm outside. Open mouthed breathing against your skin.

“Can I…?”

It was meek. Unsure of himself but knowing exactly what he wanted. It caused your cheeks to heat up. Kissing the top of his head and agreeing.

His long fingers pulled your shorts down your body. Following with his own. His cock slapped against his stomach for a moment. Bouncing from its release. He nudged your legs apart, hiking one over his waist. His length swiped along your folds. Collecting your release on it. Bob whined at the feeling, his eyes squinting shut.

Slowly he pushed inside you. Parting your folds perfectly and meeting his hips flush with your own. He was so warm. He nuzzled his face between your breasts. Groaning with broken breaths.

“ ‘s so good,” Bob grumbled into your chest. As badly as he wanted to fuck you, this was better. Bodies connected. Soothing his rapid heartbeat. You were his safe space. Whenever he needed comfort he knew exactly where to go.

When the next strike of lightning hit, Bob was too far lost in you to notice.

~~~

Alexei Shostakov

Snow blanketed the ground outside.

You were curled into a ball under the thin blanket you were given. The tent you were sharing was by no means insulated. Shivering uncontrollably in the subzero temperatures. Cold enough to see your breath in front of you. Trying not to disturb your companion beside you.

Alexei had his back to you. Barely a foot between you. Broad shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took. His body radiated heat. You wanted so badly to wrap yourself around him, steal any bit of warmth he could spare.

But it would be rude of you to intrude.

So you continued to freeze. Tip of your nose practically forming an icicle. Forcing your eyes shut hoping that you could sleep, knowing it would be impossible like this. Shuttering and teeth chattering.

He began rustling behind you. You froze. Trying to stop your body’s natural instinct. You must have been disrupting his sleep, why else would he be rolling over?

“Are you cold?” voice thick with his accent barely above a grumble.

“I’m sorry—“

Alexei’s arm wrapped around your lower stomach. Pulling you flush against him with his strength. Shifting so that you were layered under the same blankets. Curve of your spine perfectly fitting his front. He hummed into the crook of your neck. Breath warm. His body was like a heater. Finally feeling a moment of tranquility.

“You know, there’s a way to make us both warmer,” Alexei said with a hushed voice. Lips pressed against your ear. Beard tickling your skin. Husky voice sending chills down your body that pooled between your legs.

You pressed back further into him. Arching your ass so that it ground against his groin. Earning a low huff from him. Fingers splaying along your stomach as he gripped you tighter. Heartbeat pounding against your ears as you awaited his next move.

A soft kiss was pressed into your neck. His thumb hooking around the waistband of your thermal pants. Tugging them down your legs. Chill of the air a fading memory when his fingers dipped into your core. You whined at his touch.

Alexei chuckled, “Let me get you ready.”

Thick, calloused fingers circled your clit. Sliding them into your hole repeatedly. All heat in your body was between your legs. Growing slicker with each touch. Fingers spreading you out with each insert.

His hand abandoned you for a moment. You pouted wanting his digits inside you once more. Hand reaching behind you to grab his wrist. Finding it where his hands were pulling down his own pants. Half-hardened cock springing free, slapping against your back. The tip was molten hot. Leaking cum already. You imaged it was swollen and red. Girthy. Obscenely warm.

Large hands hooked around the bend of your leg. Arching it over his hip behind you. Cock now prodding at your core. You rolled against it. Tip pushing barely past your folds. Alexei’s hand lined him up with your core. Sheathing inside you in one fluid motion. Hips flush against yours.

“Tight cunt,” he breathed into your ear. Sounding as if the air had been punched out of his lungs. The stretch of his cock burned for only a moment. Now able to feel the way it pulsed inside you.

And he was right. This did warm you up significantly. Alexei rested his chin on your shoulder. The two of you heating up together. Finally comfortable in the igloo like tent.

Alexei felt good inside you. As badly as you wanted to start hopping up and down on him, you knew this was far more comfortable. Bodies combined as one.

“ ‘ll keep you warm all night,” Alexei muttered half drunk on the feeling of your walls encapsulating his length.

You could feel yourself drifting to sleep. Alexei’s arms tight around your torso, your leg tossed around his waist. Making sure to keep the heat trapped between your bodies.

Both of you forgetting about the blizzard outside.

~~~

// Thank you so much for reading! This is different than the longer stories I normally do, but it’s like this idea hit me like a bus the other day and I just HAD to write it. As always, my inbox is open. If you want to be tagged in anything in the future, have requests, or just general questions, feel free to let me know! Comments and Reblogs are appreciated //

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[hyuckmov]

— 1.6k secret freak puppy boy jwisung - minors dni!

‘take it easy on him’, you remember hyuck saying.

‘what do you mean?’

‘he’s never done this stuff before,’ he explains, smiling as you raise your eyebrows. ‘you’ll scare him off with how freaky you are.’

‘really?’ you muse, looking over at your new boyfriend. the glasses on his face slightly lopsided, jet black hair disheveled and falling over his eyebrows, you watch as he tilts his head back to take a shot, moving as if in slow motion, so you can see the bob of his adam's apple. and of course, his big hands, pushing lime between his plush lips, as he screws his face up at the taste – something so hopelessly endearing about all of it. his hoodie sits loose on his broad shoulders, zipper pulled down low enough that you can see he wasn't wearing anything under it…

‘i think jisung can get kinda freaky if you let him.’

‘jisung? our jisung?’ jaemin ambles over, his interest piqued at the topic at hand. glancing over at jisung - who was now frantically looking for a glass of water - he shakes his head. ‘there’s no way. that guy’s vanilla - missionary… hand-holding…probably kinda quiet too.’

‘i don’t know guys…’ you put your hands up, shrugging. ‘i just have a feeling.’

there was something urgent in the way jisung always touched you behind closed doors, when it was just the two of you. hands pressed to your waist, eagerly pushing your body into his whenever you hugged or kissed, the way he’d get slightly rough when you were playing around - shoving you a little too hard, a hand slapping over your mouth when you teased him… you think about the way he looks at you whenever you’re walking over to him — eyes hungry and needy, his big hands drawing you close, responding to each touch like he’s racing to prove himself and how much he knows your body.

‘what feeling?’ hyuck’s voice breaks you out of your reverie, as he eyes you suspiciously. ‘wait… did you guys secretly fuck? he told me he was waiting until you were officially his girlfriend…’

‘we haven’t…’ you clarify, as both boys eye you suspiciously. ‘i’m just saying… just the way he acts sometimes. he’s… he’s needy.’

jaemin scoffs. ‘really?’

‘i think he’d let me… you know… take control.’

haechan balks at that. ‘what?!’ he tilts his head, before shaking it again. ‘no way. that would be too overwhelming for him.’

‘maybe,’ you concede. ‘i can also kinda see him taking control too.’

‘now that,’ jaemin laughs. ‘is impossible’.

—

they couldn’t have been more wrong.

‘you said you’d be home an hour ago.’

‘i’m s-sorry baby,’ your back hits the mattress as the boy all but leaps into your arms — his hair still wet from his shower, arms all over your torso, stroking your back, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. ‘my phone ran out of battery - fuck, jisung, are you okay?’

‘need you so bad,’ he’s visibly shaking, biting his lip as he moves against you — you can feel how hard he is as he ruts against your thigh. ‘i… fuck…i’m sorry…’

‘’s ok…’ you push him away from you slightly, and he whimpers. you knew he’d been drinking with the boys, that he’d come home by himself, calling you in a sleepy voice asking you to come back from work as soon as possible. you knew drinks made him a little unsteady — his body too hard to control, hands grasping and kneading at your curves whenever he could get his hands on you, a little too rough at times, but you had never seen him this blatantly needy.

‘please…’ he begs. he takes one of your hands in both of his, bringing it up to his face as he crushes his cheek against it. pouty lips red and wet, his whole face flushed, his lashes fluttering. ‘please i… i need to put it inside. it’s…. i’m so hard… it really hurts…’

your heart melts. ‘okay,’ you say, softly. you barely get the word out before he kisses you - it’s wet and sloppy because of how his lips can barely press together to contain his groans. pressing wet kisses down your neck, he noses his way into your blouse, hands slowly coming together to unbutton it.

‘fuck…. fuck!’ he pants, fingers slipping on the buttons, the veins in his arms and hands popping out as he tugs on your shirt. ‘i can’t….b-baby your…your shirt… i cant’t-‘

‘it’s okay,’ you soothe, hands coming over to his, slowly easing them away from your shirt. undoing them as quickly as you can, you move to unclasp your bra as well before you’re stopped with a frantic whimper.

‘no!’ he blurts out. the air goes silent. swallowing, he brings his hands to cup your breasts over your flimsy, lacy bralette — one he had picked out for you.

‘jisung?’

‘if you take it off i’m…’ he swallows again, hard. ‘i… i wanna come inside today. and if you take them off…the only thing i think about is going to be… c-cumming on your tits. oh fuck….y/n,’ he throws his head back, backing away slightly as he starts to palm himself, his hips rolling and bucking. ‘i’m not gonna last…’

if only haechan and jaemin saw this side of him. ‘okay jisung…’ your hand goes to your skirt, tugging down what’s left of your clothes as jisung watches, transfixed. ‘sungie, please…’ spreading your legs slightly further, you watch as his chest caves in — his need causing his entire body to tense. ‘please… please i need it…’

‘d-don’t!’ a hand flies up to your mouth as he winces, almost in pain. ‘don’t… don’t beg… i… it’s too…i won’t be able to stop myself. please…’

you nod and he lets go, hands now almost shaking as his slips off his sweatpants, the blunt tip of his dick flushed a pretty pink, dripping with precum as he lowers himself to you. he’s whimpering again as he slides his dick through your folds, coming down to kiss you, guiding your hands towards his back and fuck he’s so huge — you feel tiny trapped under him, the way he fits himself against you possessive.

‘wait.’

you open your eyes. you can feel his length heavy against your entrance, the tip pushing slightly through, feeling him slowly work you open.

‘jisung? are you okay?’

‘yeah, yeah i’m fine but -‘ he lifts himself, slightly, and you can see his face - flushed, sweaty and panting, but his eyes are bright and loving. ‘i realise i forgot to ask you about your day.’

you raise your eyebrows. he pushes a little further into you, and you suck in a breath, harshly. ‘w-what?’

‘i…’ he ruts against you a little more, more of his dick stretching you out and he hisses. ‘baby, you feel so good…. but how did y-your day go? did your meeting g-go well?’

you start to smile, but the way he’s pushing into you makes your jaw drop again, a silent moan gripping you as you hold onto his broad shoulders. his eyes are still curious, staring into yours — even in this obscene position.

‘my day went fine, jwi. i’m s-sorry i came home so late, i should’ve been here earlier.’

he smiles, shyly. ‘it’s okay.’ leaning down, his lips brush against yours. ‘i’m glad you had a good day.’

‘jisung…’ you say, slowly. ‘i really need you to fuck me now.’

he blinks. ‘r-right. yeah. fuck.’

immediately, his hips start to work against yours, and the sound of skin on skin starts to fill the room. soon enough, the heady feeling starts to overwhelm him again, and when you next look up jisung is all but gone — his puffy lips ajar as he pounds into you.

‘so… you’re so wet, fuck…’ his fingers slip on your clit, starting to rub gentle circles as he speeds up. it’s messy, and wet — his length so thick it makes you feel impaled on him, his movements desperate but precise as he pounds right into the spot of yours that makes your toes curl.

he hisses. ‘are you… you feel…’

you nod. ‘i’m close…please-‘ his fingers glide over you just right, and before you know it your whole body is tensing — your nails digging into his shoulders as you wrap around him. you can feel yourself pulse around him, can feel how he falters in response to how tight you’ve suddenly become.

jisung groans as he cums without warning, warmth flooding your insides as he lets himself cum inside you as he’d wanted. he’s panting, hands scrambling over your body like he’s trying to make sure you’re okay, sweat dripping from his bangs. it’s a second before you notice he’s kissing all over you — going right back to nuzzling on you. you smile to yourself — you’d only mentioned once the importance of physical contact after sex, and since then he’d never once let you alone after you both came, clinging onto you with everything he had, sometimes grasping and playing with your fingers even when you left to go to the bathroom.

‘are you okay? was i too rough?’

‘that was really good, jwi.’

‘i…you were really good too.’

he’s blushing furiously, still more than a little turned on. slowly, his hips move against yours and both of you wince at the sensitivity — but something about the wetness of it, his cum leaking out of you, getting all on him…

‘y-you’re so…fuck…’ he pulls out, mumbling apologies the entire time, watching your entrance carefully, your puffy slick folds barely able to contain all of him. ‘i… oh fuck…’

‘jisung…’

he looks up at you through his lashes, shyness radiating off of him in waves.

‘do you want to go again?’

he nods, smiling sheepishly when you laugh. ‘i wanna eat you out….’ he mumbles

he was such a freak. ‘kiss me for a bit first,’ you concede. it was going to be a long night.

[puck-luck]

hi pooks i would like to order an americano with peppermint and cold foam with luke hughes pls pls pls thinking new relationship (1-2 months) where luke is on a roadie and is …doing his thang (ur words not mine)😛😛 i will leave the rest for the private dms to keep this short ok love u

-mattias anon

dedicated to my queen mattias anon and to the birthday girl star2fishmeg!!!! my lukey girls <3 this is for u two (luke is soooooo and i need him soooooooooooooo)

Luke scrolls to the next image of you, phone balanced precariously in his right hand. His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, saliva gathering on his tongue that he has to swallow down. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, gaze fixed on the image of you. It’s been about a week since he saw you last, with both of your schedules as busy as they are, and Luke just wanted to look at you. That’s why he’s stalking your Instagram. He’s not a creep. Just ignore what his left hand is doing.

You’ve been going out with Luke for about two months now. The relationship is new and you’re barely official, simply exclusive. When he’s around more, he’ll lock you down. In the meantime, you guys text and FaceTime and meet up when you can and Luke will continue looking at your pictures when it’s too late at night to send you a message. He doesn’t want you to know he’s thinking about you so late. You’ll know and it’s too early for that.

The picture on his screen is of you in your bathroom last summer. You posted it to your story and added it to your highlights and Luke sees why– you’re tan, your hair is blown out, your makeup is done, and your outfit is incredible. Your shirt ties in the front and accentuates your boobs and holy hell Luke likes your tits. He wishes he could touch them, play with them, suck on them, put his cock between them and thrust… the possibilities are endless.

He stares at the line of your cleavage and strokes himself faster, spreading the precum from his slit all over his tip and speeding up even more. His arm flies with motion, constantly providing friction to his pulating cock, and he throws his head back onto his pillow, moaning to an empty room.

There’s a slick sound that accompanies his moaning, rhythmically matching his pace. Luke holds himself firmly in his left hand, picking his head up and looking again at the image on the screen. He should’ve gone to bed a long time ago, with the clock on his phone showing that it’s nearly midnight, but he had to do this. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and his cock grew too hard to ignore.

Your tits– fuck, Luke imagines how they’d bounce in front of his face as you ride him, and that makes him drop his phone to his side. Your mouth would be open, panting and telling him that it’s so good, Luke, fuck, your cock is so big. He’d be looking up at you, trying not to come before you because he’s a gentleman, damn it, and he wants to make you feel good before he focuses on his own pleasure. Luke would look at your chest by mistake and become mesmerized, tongue heavy with a need to mark and suck the unblemished skin. Your pussy would feel so, so good around him, he can’t wait to experience it in real life, you’d be so fucking perfect for him–

His stomach flexes, abs clenching and straining because of the pressure in the pit of his abdomen, and Luke feels himself snap like a guitar string. His climax bursts from his slit in long white strips, landing all over his knuckles, stomach, and up to his ribcage. His hips chase after the pleasure, fucking into his fist in aborted movements because Luke can’t stop himself, can’t control his body when he feels so good. 

His groan is haggard as he forces himself to slow down. He runs his hand along his cock, desperately seeking out any remaining pleasure, but it’s all faded into a dim glow that surrounds him. He feels cocooned, warm in the aftermath of his orgasm. 

In his hazy bliss, he picks his phone up and looks at your picture again. His hand moves before his mind does, thumb going to the bottom corner of the screen and pressing the little heart.

The second after he does it, his brain catches up. Luke’s heart drops so far into his stomach that he thinks he might pass it like a kidney stone the next time he goes to the bathroom. He just liked a picture of yours from your highlights, from before he even met you, late at night. He’s fucking screwed. Even if he unlikes the picture now, which he does as if he can reverse his actions, you’ll still get the notification that he interacted with you.

It’s so over. Luke is done for. He throws his phone in his bedside drawer and moves to clean himself up, riddled with shame over his actions now that he accidentally revealed himself. You’re going to think he’s a weirdo and you’re never going to want to see him again. Luke understands, to be honest. He did something stupid and he’ll pay for it.

He dares one last peek at his phone before he goes to bed, hoping the shame will be gone when he wakes up in the morning. He freezes again– there’s a text from you.

Liking my thirst trap so late, Lu? U know u can just call me next time ;)

[countrycritter]

As you can see I’ve been in a deep Captain Price brainrot moment for a couple days. Which brings me to bear!hybrid Price 😈

You’re the new member of Task Force 141 so obviously you’re pretty out of the loop. The days are getting colder as the leaves fall off the trees and everything is pretty normal. Of course you knew Price was a hybrid but you weren’t exactly sure what that all entailed.

You got to the training room with the others at 5:30 in the morning. Terribly early. But you were able to make it in only to realize that your new captain isn’t even there. The other three notice and look over at you with a mischievous glint in their eyes.

They give you directions to his quarters after you agree to checking on him. The barracks are actually quiet for once as you walk up to his door and knock softly.

No answer.

You knock again before trying to open the door only to find it unlocked.

His room isn’t anything special, barely decorated besides a few knick knacks the boys gave him. And there lying on the bed is Price in all his glory.

This big, burly man lying in the middle of his bed, blankets barely covering his lower half and strewn about on the bed. He’s surrounded by quilts, pillows, and all (and for a good reason too because he likes his room to be COLD).

He only sleeps in loose pajama pants so you’re able to see the strong expanse of his back which has a few freckles and scars littered on it. The pajama pants sit low showing off the top of his boxers. Hairy arms holding a pillow close to him while he lays on his stomach, face buried into the bed.

You should’ve known it would be a trap.

“Captain.”

Nothing.

Eventually it became 6:00 a.m. and the other guys started wondering why you hadn’t come back. They make their way towards their captain’s quarters and found him sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary during winter.

What they didn’t expect was to find you pressed up against him, his big arms wrapped around you, holding you as close as humanly possible.

His musk and hint of cigar smoke covered you along with his terrifyingly active body heat.

How could you fight sleep when this was the most comfortable you’d ever been?

[fawnnlvr]

miscommunication | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

masterlist

summary: in which reader mistakes penelope for fawning over spencer reid and accidently reveals her secret crush on the talkative doctor.

word count: 1.9k

author's note: hiiiii!!!! i have been thinking of this idea for weeks and thanks to summer, it was finally brought to life so enjoy my loves ♥︎

It was a fairly slow morning at the BAU.

Agents were steadily strolling in and settling into their spots to start the long day ahead of them. Placing your jacket on the back of your chair, and your bag on the open space of your desk, you walked towards the coffee bar where your fellow coworkers were talking.

Holding a coffee cup from the local café that was stained with the lipstick you wore, you walked into a conversation the tech analysis, Penelope Garcia, was having with fellow agent, Spencer Reid.

"Hi guys!" you softly greeted as you found your spot beside Penelope.

"Morning." Spencer spoke with a smile. Your hands fiddled with the cardboard around your hot coffee cup as her looked into your eyes with this gentleness that made your heart warm.

"Good morning my sweetness." Penelope greeted with a big smile, "We were just talking about how Hotch was being a meanie and making us finish yesterday's paperwork by this afternoon."

"Oh yeah, I already finished mine. Haven't you guys?" you looked at Penelope who had a guilty smile before your eyes flickered back to Spencer.

"Unfortunately not. I fell asleep as soon as I got home, but if I start now, I can probably finish it in an hour if I really pace myself." he answered your question and you felt yourself unable to meet his gaze once again, instead keeping your focus on either the ground or Penelope.

It really wasn't your fault, it was his. After he got his new haircut, you found it even harder to focus while he was in the room.

Being in a room full of profilers, it was hard fo keep this little secret of yours but you truly had no choice. It could be considered unprofessional and totally embarassing due to the things he made you feel from simply existing.

You have the hugest crush on Doctor Spencer Reid and he was consuming all your thoughts. You always had a thing for nerds— well, smart men who knew what they were talking about and made learning their life mission. You found his love for knowledge and statistics and facts so cute. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak about facts he had mesmorized, you could barely focus.

It was already hard to stop yourself from biting your lip or keeping your gaze off of him, but after his new haircut that perfectly enhanced all his perfect features, you were doomed for failure.

"Well you should get working on that. Hotch seems even more cranky ever since Strauss gave him a little visit yesterday." Penelope advised.

"Good idea. I'll see you guys later." Spencer stated before grabbing his coffee mug and walking back to his desk. He used his hand to brush down the bangs in front of his face, a habit he picked up ever since he got his new haircut.

You allowed your eyes to linger more than it should have on his retreating figure. Looking back towards Penelope, you were almost taken aback from the look on her face— well the look in her eyes.

It was the look of a lion that hadn't eaten anything in days and just spotted a pretty little gazelle. It was a look you were all too famaliar with ever since you caught yourself staring at Spencer and when he left, you caught yourself in the mirror he was previously standing in front of. You scared yourself at that unfortunate moment. You followed her line of vision and she was looking in the same direction you had, towards Spencer.

He was working at his desk, studiously doing what he said he was going to do. Penelope stayed quiet for a few moments and you hadn't mind since you were all too busy thinking about how Spencer's jaw was hand-crafted by angels.

"Man, ever since he got that new thingy, he has been looking even more yummy."

You felt yourself tense a bit. Penelope was always a girl to make flattering comments about everybody so you innocently agreed since she was right— Spencer's haircut did make him look good. "Yeah, he really does look nice with it."

"Ugh, and that way he just fills that shirt in." She took another sip of her coffee and your eyes flickered to her before going back to Spencer, trailing your eyes on the fitted dark plum purple button up.

"He looks good in it. That really is his color." Innocent comments so far.

Penelope hummed, "Sometimes it makes me mad. Like how can somebody look so good— don't even get me started on his voice. Everytime he talks, I can hardly focus."

You had a small laugh as you brought the coffee up to your lips. You really couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth but then again, it was Penelope— she had no filter. She was the type of woman to make anyone feel safe and seen, which is maybe part of the reason you kept agreeing with her and revealed more. "I thought I was the only one who thought that."

"Oh sweetie, I am positive everybody shares the same opinion. I mean look at him— even Hotch or Rossi can't deny his looks. The way he has the ability to command the room with his words alone." Penelope continued.

You did suppose there was a reason Morgan calls Spencer 'pretty boy' and no one bats an eye. "He does have a way with his words."

Penelope looked at you and saw this sort of softness in your eyes as you looked towards the desk area.

"Whenever he spurs out all this knowledge, it makes me feel safe. You know?" you looked towards Penelope, "He always knows what he's doing and what he's talking about. It's just nice to know you can always fall back on him."

"I hear you so much. I don't want to spoil the mood or whatever— I am all for women empowerment, but something about him being so dominating makes me so hot and bothered."

"Dominating?" you whispered under your breath, a little confused.

"You know, I didn't think you would be that into him. This is the first time you agreed with me about him." Penelope commented and you tilted your head.

You thought back to all the times she's mentioned Spencer and you believed you always held a somewhat indifferent view on him. Either that or you let it slip that you quite admired him. "Really? Well it isn't so suprising, I guess I am kind of secretive when it comes to the dating scene since not a lot of people get my type."

"Type? Honey, that man over there is everybody's type. I don't think there is a girl in the world who would pass up an opportunity with him."

You glanced back towards Spencer. She really did have a point. He truly looked like a model, but you supposed his personality sort of deterred people away, but you personally found that the most attractive thing about him.

"He really is a great guy isn't he?" You confessed to Penelope while looking in Spencer's direction and you heard a small gasp. She sets down her coffee cup before covering her mouth.

"My sweetie is that love in your eyes that I see."

You hummed in suprise, "W-What? No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh it so is and don't even try to deny it. The eyes do not lie. I thought there was something going on. You always seemed quiet during the briefings and your eyes were always kept on the ground. I may not be a profiler, but I too, noticd things."

You quietly tried to shush Penelope and she got the message and she pulled you further away from the target of affections.

"Please tell me how it all happened! I need to know! How did this crush start?"

"I-I don't know. It just did. I always found him quite cute—"

"Cute? Aw!" That wasn't how Penelope would personally describe the fox that is Derek Morgan, but to each their own.

"– and he was always just so nice to me and we shared the same interests — and I just really feel comfortable around him."

Penelope had the warmest smile on her face as you recounted the times where you felt the most safest and loved around Spencer. You tucked a hair behind your ear to try to give yourself some time to stop the cheek hurting smile on your face.

"Who would've known that you would have a crush on the muscular—" Hm? "Mister playboy bunny himself–" Excuse me? "—Derek Morgan."

Silence.

"What?" you almost dropped your coffee cup and your eyes quickly flickered back to Spencer and his general direction. There it was.

Whenever you looked at Spencer, there would often be moments were he was the sole focus of your eye and everything around him became blurry and unimportant. Not to say that your fellow coworker was unimportant, but he wasn't exactly a priority in your mind.

There sat Spencer at his desk and behind his figure, was Agent Derek Morgan, laughing on his phone as he caught your eye and waved. You were too shocked — too horrified to even wave back. Derek sort of flinched back in his seat by the look you were giving him. He had never seen you stared at him like that before. You looked at him as if he was a ghost or had a huge bug on his head which caused him to look around. Was he the only you were giving these crazy eyes too?

Penelope was taken aback by your shocked expression and redirected her eyes to the same direction. The wires had connected and a lightbulb of pure chaos had sparked inside her head.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." Penelope repeated these words as she whisper shouted, slowly increasing her voice.

"Shhh! No!"

"Earlier— the new thingy and him looking attractive. I was talking about Derek's giant new watch— you thought I was talking about Reid's new haircut. Oh and his voice– oh my dear you are getting turned on by Spencer's constant yapping on statistics and facts. You naughty naughty—"

"Okay! Penelope stop!" you practically shrieked, "You didn't hear a word. This didn't happen."

Horrified, you placed your coffee cup down and began to walk backwards, placing a finger against your glossed lips while staring into Penelope's soul.

You inched back further as Penelope had to refrain herself from bursting out laughing. She knew you must be feeling so embarassed at that moment so she did her best to compose herself... until you were out of sight.

You yelped as you had accidently bumped into somebody.

"Are you alright?" Emily Prentiss asked as she steadied you by the shoulders and got you balanced, "And why does Penelope look like she just hacked into the winning lottery numbers."

"Nothing!" you whispered shouted, very loudly, "You both heard and saw nothing!" your fingers threatlessly threatened your fellow older coworkers; one who knew exactly what had transpired and the other being an innocent bystander who walked in at the wrong moment at the wrong time.

Emily and Penelope watched your retreating figure as you ran down the hall, towards the bathrooms.

"What's up with her?" Emily inquired, eyes furrowed with concern.

"Oh, just the sweet illness and craziness of love." Penelope spoke, she then looked at Emily's confused face before bursting out laughing. The loudest laughter she thinks she has ever laughed. Everybody looked at Penelope who was gripping onto the coffee bar table, doubling down on laughter.

The laughter echoed all the way to the bathroom in which you were trying not to drown yourself in the toilet from embrassment.

Hotch came outside his office and took one glance after Penelope before turning to Rossi, "Remind me to get her drug tested later."

Emily quickly fled the scene, not bothering to look back until she was in the safety of her own desk surrounded by her fellow agents who were armed. Spencer paused in his work to find Penelope slowly calming down but still shaking with laughter as she trudged back to her little computer den.

The slow and quiet morning of the BAU turned into a loud mystery of a case the agents weren't sure they wanted to solve.

[zenithsturniolo]

introducing... dealer!chris

♪ yale by ken carson

chris. 22. leo. dealer. always stoned. cold. unreadable. dominant. impatient. reckless. blunt in every sense. jawline sharp. voice sharp. eyes red. hands always warm. hoodie up. rings on. blunt lit. smells like weed, leather, and you. acts like he doesn’t care, proves it every time. calls you angel only when you’re being a brat. only when he’s about to ruin you.

⇢ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 ↴

introducing... client!reader

♪ why don’t u by father

angel. 21. libra. client. soft. chaotic. lip gloss. mouthy. sharp tongued but always pretty. hopeless romantic. heart too big for her own good. flirts like it’s a reflex. talks shit just to get his attention. blushes when he stares too long. swears she’s not into him, but never leaves. anxious as hell. smells like vanilla, weed, and him. lets him call her angel. pretends it doesn’t ruin her every time.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋

you weren’t even supposed to be there that night.

you were just tagging along with a friend. she needed a quick pick up, said the guy was quiet but solid. you didn’t expect him to be hot, or half-high, or leaning against a beat-up black civic like the world was boring him to death. his hoodie was half off his shoulder, the sleeves pushed up, and the first thing you noticed was how red his knuckles were. like he fought more than he talked.

you stayed in the car at first. watched the exchange through the cracked window, arms crossed, unimpressed.

then your plug ghosted you two nights later and you didn’t really have a choice. so you hit her up, got the number, and texted him. he replied, and that was it.

you didn’t know why you cared what he thought. didn’t know why you’d worn that top or why your heart kicked stupid in your chest when you saw him waiting again, same spot, same lazy posture.

“this how you treat all your clients?” you said as you handed him the cash.

“just the ones who talk too much,” he muttered, eyes dragging over your face.

you snorted. “you got a name?”

he paused. blinked slow, then said, “chris.”

you offered yours in return, and he barely reacted. just passed you the baggie like it was nothing, like you hadn’t just rewired your whole damn brain for how good his fingers looked doing it.

“thanks for the service, chris,” you teased, stepping back. “real gentleman shit.”

he shook his head, that tiny smile tugging at his lip for the first time.

“you’re real mouthy, hm?”

“better than being a dick about everything.”

“yeah,” he said, pushing off the car to open the door for you. like it wasn’t a big deal, like he didn’t do that for anyone else. “get in, angel. you’re annoying as fuck, but i’ll give you a ride.”

and just like that, the name stuck. and just like that, so did you.

—

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒

she was loud from the second he met her.

not volume wise. just… loud. energy too big, mouth too quick, smile too pretty for someone trying to act like they didn’t care about anything. she was in someone else’s passenger seat, legs up, nails tapping against the window, acting like this was all beneath her. like she wasn’t just another client.

he assessed her in five seconds flat: hopeless, flirty, trying hard not to seem lonely. he didn’t expect to ever see her again, but two nights later, his phone buzzed with a number he didn’t know and a text that just said, “u got time?”

he did. and he hated that he wanted to see if she’d show up.

when she did— glossed lips, acting like this was casual— he knew she wasn’t just another pickup. he hated the way she teased, hated the way she looked at him.

“you got a name?” she asked like she didn’t already know it.

he told her anyway, and she smiled like it mattered. after that, she came back. not every day. not always for weed. sometimes just to sit in his car, vent about her day, borrow a lighter and complain about life being too slow. she had this habit of leaning into him when she talked, all attitude and perfume and wide eyes.

even with the mouth, the stubbornness, the way she picked fights on purpose, she was still soft. still sweet. still looked at him like he was something more than a dealer with blood under his nails.

he doesn’t say much now. doesn’t need to.

she’s always showing up. and somehow, she’s still here.

+ find the dealer!chris x client!reader taglist here + find more dealer!chris here + find my entire masterlist here

🏷: @drewswife @k4urltzx @courta13 @briizysturn @y2kstarr @adorechris @dolliraez @rriverscuomo @sturnsblogs @mattspillowprincess @mattsplaything @sturns-mermaid @auttysturnz @sonnyangelsweetiee @izzylovesmatt @ribbonlovergirl @matts-girlfriend @pair-of-pantaloons @444sturns @weron1ka @grrrrcherries  @matts-wife @thicknick19 @slvtf0rchr1s @devotedlyteenagemusic @adoremattsturns @slut4chrisloads @cayleeuhithinknott @lyingbymalcom @sturniolo1trips @chrissbxby @alexisa78 @ariheartsmatt @slutformatt17 @chestersturn @kenziesturniolo54 @malsmind @chrismoans @sophsturns @surprisecurlyfriess @sturnslutz @passionfruitchris

© zenithsturniolo

[espressotonicc]

i have so much love for evan buckley in my heart that i don't know what to do with it.

he would argue with a police sergeant advocating for a newborn baby and he would want to see it through to know that baby is ok. he would save people in a tsunami while being injured and on blood thinners. he would search for his friend's kid for hours. he would risk his life to save a fiancé of his exgirlfriend who ghosted him without the explanation. he would fight heaven and hell and athena grant to find his sister. he would fly to another state to support his girlfriend. he would help a fellow retired firefighter to reconnect with the love of his life and then give him a proper send off. he would come up with the plan to help eddie get chris the help he needs. he would spend hours searching for his girlfriend’s missing mother. he would want to give some dignity in death to the guy that used him to catfish women. he would quit SEALS because not feeling emotions is alien and foreign and repugnant to him. he would be your sperm donor even if it hurts him. he would drink disgusting smoothies and edge himself to give you the best chance. he would trap himself in a fire maze to save the last plant worker. he would risk his life climbing the ladder with the sniper on the loose because he loves his family and couldnt bear the thought of them getting hurt.

he is a quick thinker: he would hose down the robbers, use smoke machine to calm the bees or spray his best friend with perfume.

he would draw a pink/yellow heart with the smile, he would call the toy cow moo-moo. he would say things like “im confused can you start over ”, “we beat the bees” “did i pass” “bad juju”. also one time he got math superpowers. he would google steps to the confession and make the most awkward cross. he would sit on the floor in the middle of the station playing with the dog. he would cry while watching soldiers reunite with their kids.

he would get exited about the world, he knows about meteors and bees and maggots and worms and he is so genuinely happy to see them that his smile could power up entire planet. he knows the origin of chocolate and how glass is made.

he would always apologize and give you a second and third chance because his love is genuine and earnest. he would put the blame on himself and he is scared that he is the reason for his friend's problems. he would still love you and care about you even after you dump him or ghost him or neglect him his whole childhood.

he would say no to a date with a hot woman because he wants to be better. he makes “upgrades”, he learns and grows.

he would give himself boils because he would be stressed that he offended the mummy of the cowboy. he would give said cowboy eulogy dressed in a suit because people are what make life worth living. he would be in his posse because he feels empathy for him and doesn’t want him to be alone even in the afterlife. he would want to move out because his failed date lives next door. he would say things like "so im gross" and "my boyfriend wouldn’t even kiss me". he would go overboard with babyproofing the house.

he would cause flour shortages in la because the enormity of the way he feels is infinite.

he would steal a fire truck to hook up with the girl and have sex with his ex on bare mattress. the thought of abstinence for one year is alien to him. he loves sex, he enjoys sex, and is not shy about it. he has a ring cutter and calls his boyfriend a beast and he is bisexual.

his heart bleeds in a million different ways but he still loves and hopes and cares, he doesn’t hold grudges or makes it harden him.

he loves taking care of people, he would make his sister the only thing he knows how to cook. he would let his coworkers live with him in a 1x1 apartment. he would give his girlfriend gps bracelet because he wants her to be safe. he would move in with you to take care of you while you grieve your mother. he would give you big ass bouquet and a balloon ride. he would give up his loft and sublease your house.

he would do the maneuver, rappel down the buildings, and descend down the rope while stuff explodes behind him. he would jump down of the elevator with a civilian in his hands or shut down the freeway with only two flares. he would pull you under the truck with the sniper firing shots.

he would wear pink cardigans, blue sweaters, velvet and red and orange and cyan and turquoise and green.

he would cook lasagna and chilli and do baked alaska and loafs the same way he loves, putting all of his feeling into it.

he sometimes acts like an anoying little brother but he gives the best advice to those who need it.

he wants to be at ease, know the secret to happiness and find the kind of love that thomas/mitchel had.

he wants to be something and he would spend years on the road trying to find himself and try every job while doing it.

he is also 6’2, 200lb beefy man.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

screw you guys here's more about her:

no one in kronos' army ever bothered to actually teach her anything other than fighting, like they just aged her up magically and threw a sword at her. so she picked pretty much everything up second hand. her speech is a bit funny and has a little weird accent. her sea legs and fighting stances are great but when she's just walking she's the type of kid who flails and bumps bc they can't get used to how gangly their limbs are. her hair is long and unkempt bc she doesn't know what to do about it. she always looks too thin and ill bc the rapid growth spurts seconds after being born can't be good for you. she usually just wears Whatever she can find without putting much thought into it but I love the idea of her having like a big super ugly cardigan that's her absolute comfort sweater she won't part with even in 10000 degree weather. she never wore any makeup until she met thalia and begged her to teach her how to do the raccoon eyes eyeliner look lol but that's like the closest she gets to outward self expression bc she's got a lot of problems with depersonalization, obviously.

I'm thinking they manage to get a good stab on percy somewhere during or soon after titan's curse, and she shows up to camp a little before battle of the labyrinth. she's already there for at least a couple weeks before percy turns up for the summer, but everyone thinks she's weird as hell and avoids her. percy's not trying to repeat past mistakes with tyson tho so he's going all out to bond (even tho he also thinks she's weird and has Very Strong Things he wants to say to poseidon if he ever starts responding to messages again)

her cover story luke gave her is that her mother was aware of the prophecy and raised her hidden away from civilization as much as she could, which is supposed to explain why she barely knows anything other than fighting and why even the gods didn't have her on their radar

'my names antigone'

percy: 'why would your mother do that to you. we're calling you tiggy effective immediately'

tiggy, can't read, doesn't know what a play is 'why???'

annabeth: 'you'll thank us when you get to the tragedies unit in the lit class in a couple months'

her mission was pretty much like 'get percy to trust you' but like 3 minutes into their first meeting he's already ready to die for her so she's a bit confused on what to do lmfao. luke is like 'well we aren't ready to attack just gather information' and she's like percy is the only one who talks to me and no one tells HIM anything!!!!! lol but she does her best to sneak around and ease drop. she even managed to steal annabeth's hat one time, but when annabeth caught her she assumed tiggy took it because she was so uncomfortable around people and had a whole one-sided bonding moment with her about it

she's just very like....baby deer vibes. she has the aura of a prey animal. no one suspects her of being a spy at all.

which ends up working in kronos' favor

she also manages to get under percy's skin, coming up with a whole story about how poseidon knew about her the whole time but her mother accepted the offer sally turned down. says she's only there because her mother recently was killed by oceanus so poseidon sent her to camp to be safe, but he still didn't want her involved in the war. makes percy feel disposable to his father and disrupts his trust you get the vibes.

and she TRIES not to get attached to percy. she knows she's his daughter in some weird magic way, but she also knows the titans are either going to kill him OR get him to accept being kronos' host, and in the very short time she's been alive it's been hammered into her that she owes nothing to him, she's only here because of kronos, she owes everything to him and the army, blah blah blah. but like. it's percy. she doesn't understand a single thing about him but she can't help but be charmed. she can't help but wish they had more in common than their genetic code. she can't help but listen to his offhand stories about sally and wish she had a normal relationship with him. the longer her mission drags on the less she wants to betray him. but she knows she doesn't really have a choice in the matter.

she gets involved in the quest, she sabotages all of annabeth's plans to get through the labyrinth best she can. eventually the big reveal happens. they try to use her as a bargaining chip- if percy agrees to be the host he'd actually get to protect her, stuff like that. the worst part of the age magic torture scene is that it's clearly not the first time she's been through it. percy's in absolute fucking crisis. he almost gives in but he's knocked out before he can say the spell because. plot. screw you it's 4am right now.

anyway by the time that books done she's flipped sides. not because she feels any particular way about the gods but because the genuine horror and pain from percy is what made her realize the army was fucked up. it's her literal first experience of being cared for. at no point in their 'let's make a percy clone' plan did they consider she might be just as fiercely loyal to her loved ones as he is, and kronos never made her love him. she's smart though, and is doing double agent shit. they titans still think they've got big three powers on their side even if they haven't nabbed a prophecy child yet.

poseidon meets her when he rocks up to percy's birthday party and is like "hey what the fuck<3" lmfao but after he's filled in on the situation properly he lets her know she's got the full seafam benefits like just get to the water she'll be fine. and she does end up sleeping in random underwater caves more often than not on her various double agent travels.

percy and her from this point on are PAINFUL around each other. they never really know what to say to each other and are both convinced they're constantly hurting each other. he doesn't want her traveling around getting involved in the war no matter how helpful it may be, he wants her to be safe. she doesn't want him to waste energy worrying about her when this is possibly his last year alive. she's deeply aware that she was only created to hurt him. he's deeply aware that she was only created and hurt BECAUSE of him. their guilt complexes know no bounds. they both secretly wish she could be a normal child, but the thought of her being magically deaged again makes them both nauseous, and they both feel guilty for even thinking that in the first place- percy, because he knows how important gaining her autonomy is to her and tiggy because why would she want to make his life even harder by forcing actual parenthood on him? percy feels like he has an open wound and tiggy feels like she is a wound. do they ever talk about any of this? no they just walk on eggshells around each other. I hate them.

ooooouuggggh when he goes missing in hoo. she's obviously one of the many people out looking for him. her and annabeth bond a lot during this time.

well it's more like annabeth absolutely screaming at the top of her lungs about how worried she's been about her when they bump into each other and then dragging her into a coffee shop to catch up. she'd been keeping tabs with chiron since she was out searching obviously but it never even occurred to her that annabeth would want to hear anything other than 'I found him'. in fairness she forgets she's a real person half the time so it's pretty hard for her to figure out people care about her.

ugh okay annabeth takes her to go visit with sally- and tiggy HAS met her before but sally was under the impression she was just another random half blood. but she says something that leads to the percy's her father thing coming out and sally and paul are FREAKING out and tiggy's like oh okay sorry I actually have to run far far away right now<3 and peaces out of there leaving annabeth to try and calm them down lol

she actually DOES find percy when he's on the quest with hazel and frank- but it's before his memories come back. he's got no idea who she is but is very sorry about it. he knows the look in her eyes hurts him. she hugs him and tells him she's really glad he's okay but ultimately lets them continue on their quest without putting up a fight.

they don't see each other again until after gaea's defeated. she's like in cabin 3 packing a bag trying to dip immediately after the battles over and percy practically kicks the door in like 'that is NOT allowed to be our first hug I need a REDO so I can appreciate it properly!!!!!!!' and ofc that's got them crying a bit

it slowly but surely gets easier for them to be around each other. it hurts a little less every time.

there's a little scene in my head where after successfully avoiding sally for months she gets talked into a family dinner but she's upset about looking bad and percy and annabeth spend like all afternoon doing her hair for her lol

with both wars done she starts slowly but surely coming to terms with like. existing. she starts figuring out things she likes and dislikes. learning more and more. developing a personality. it's very overwhelming tho.

tbh I kinda want her involved in toa too, like maybe a situation where apollo needed to be attached to two mortals instead of one and he accidentally got tiggy instead of percy. he's got so much trauma and personality and they both struggle with the concept of being humans so I think they could be a fun match up but idk.

this is all I'm typing rn. idk why my brain dreamed her up and then got obsessed with her. goodnight.

btw I had a WEIRD dream last night that was like. daughter of poseidon insert in the first pjo series but there was a plot twist that she was actually percy's daughter that kronos created from his blood?(give my dream brain a break, it's greek mythology after all) and then aged up using his time powers and she was like fully being used by the titans. 1) don't know what could have possibly sparked that and 2) That Is So Fucked Up?

[33forthew1n]

ੈ♡˳ in a good way ੈ♡˳

🏎️❣️ollie bearman x best friend!reader

written ff

synopsis: if you asked anyone at silverlake high school to describe yn in one word, it would be "loner". that was until her sophomore year when ollie bearman moved to rochester and became her classmate. suddenly, the tall teenager was stuck by her side. they're just friends..right?

WARNINGS: N/A

a/n: enjoy :) interact however you please!

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Yn had always kept to herself. It's just how she was. She couldn't really be bothered with people or socializing. A true introvert. She wasn't anti-social or bad to be around, Yn had just always enjoyed her own company more than anyone else's.

That is until her sophomore year of high school. On a random Tuesday in October, her class gets a new student. Oliver Bearman. Well, "Ollie" was what he asked the class to call him.

Honestly, she didn't pay much attention to him at all when he was introducing himself to the class. Which was very different from every other girl who was fawning over the "new cute guy". Maybe her clear lack of interest was what led him to choose a seat next to her.

When he sat down next to her, her eyes widened in suprise. She thought herself to be the last person Ollie would choose to sit next to, but she was clearly wrong.

As Ms. Whiteham went on with her daily lecture about some boring book, Ollie turned to Yn and stuck his hand out. "Ollie Bearman. Your name?"

Truthfully, Yn was paralyzed for a moment at his voice. Deep, smooth, and a lot more charming than she was used to from her male classmates. A good minute later, Yn remembered Ollie had spoken to her and quietly answered his question, "Yn Ln". "I'll remember that", he replied before turning back look at their teacher. In that moment, Yn felt that something in her life had greatly shifted yet she couldn't put a finger on as to why.

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Two years later, Yns life had taken a full 180 degree shift. She couldn't remember the last time she spent a day alone...and not thought of Ollie.

Ollie, her best friend. The guy who marched into her life and made a lasting impression on her.

Not one day passed where Ollie and Yn didn't sit together, eat lunch together, and hang out after classes together. Basically, the pair were inseperable.

Everyone around them believed that the two were dating and simply hadn't said anything because they didn't want to make a big deal out of it. In reality, the two were much more confused with what they were.

In Ollie's head the two were best friends who could be so much more. In Yn's head, Ollie was just a guy who she had a soft spot for. Nothing more and nothing less.

In class, Yn's head was down and she was starting to doze off to Mr. Young's robotic voice. She then felt a tap on her shoulder to which she slightly lifted her head to see who dared to bother her. Looking down at her was a smiling Ollie with two drinks in his hand. "Hello, sleepyhead. You look like you need a coffee", he muttered quietly while handing her her hyperspecific coffee order. Yn's heart began to beat loudly as she realized Ollie had memorized her coffee order. The same order even her own mom couldn't bare to memorize since it was "too long and too much" for her aging mind.

"Thanks, bub", she said gratefully.

Truthfully, every time Yn used that nickname for Ollie, he felt like he was given another reason to live. He wondered in that moment if she knew how much he cared for her.

Would she ever know that he keeps a list of all her favorites? He knew her favorite color was baby pink and that she hated days that were "excessively sunny". He knew that she couldn't handle spice and loved to bake. Yet, most of all he knew she would never feel the same way about him.

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Everybody in Ollie's life knew he was head over heels for Yn. His mom often asked him about her, his dad often reminded him to treat her gently as a girl should be treated, and his brother Thomas never stopped teasing him for his obvious crush on the girl.

Funnily enough, the same could be said for Yn. Two years ago, she scarcily socialized and was a much less smiley person. Her mother and sister had noticed that slowly Yn was becoming a different, much happier person. They never mentioned anything to her, not wanting her to overthink and question herself, but the change was like night and day.

Recently, Yn had invited Ollie over to bake cookies. They'd left school together to go to nearest grocery store and pick up the few ingredients they still needed. At the register, Ollie refused to let her pay and she joked, "You're gonna make everyone think we're dating, bub."

Under his breath Ollie said, "Would that be so bad?"

Once at her house, Ollie took off his shoes and tried to shake off the nerves of meeting her family. In that moment, he thought of the Yn he'd met years ago. She was cold and nothing like the girl he now knows. At least he could seek comfort in knowing he was someone that she relied on and enjoyed being around.

Once inside, Ollie greeted Yn's mother. "Ms. Ln, hello. I'm Ollie Bearman, Yn's, uh..friend from school."

"Oh, Ollie! Of course I know who you are! Yn talks about you all the time! (To this, yn blushes and looks down, seemingly embarassed) What a pleasure", Yn's mom said before going in for a hug with Ollie. "Isn't he handsome, Ally?", she asked Yn's younger sister, seemingly hellbent on embarassing Yn.

"Ooookaayy, mom. We're just gonna go right into the kitchen. Forgive her, Ollie, she's a little...crazy", Yn said, shuffling the pair into the kitchen.

The blushing teenage boy followed after Yn and started washing his hands.

Quickly, the two got into a smooth rhythym comprised of him getting ingredients and her measuring them out. Then, they mixed the dough together. That's when the pair realized just how messy they'd gotten, with flour all over their faces. Ollie leaned down and tapped Yn's nose that she had somehow gotten flour on which caused a giggle to ripple through her body.

As the pair were chowing down on their baked goods, Yn realized how content she was just simply being by Ollie's side. For a while now, she wondered if playing with the lines of friendship and something more was dangerous. So, in hopes of keeping her best friend she didn't make a move or get her hopes too high.

A few hours later, it was time for Ollie to go home and Yn walked him to her door. The both of them could sense a brewing tension that they would soon have to divulge. But, as for right now, everything was normal.

Ollie stooped down to Yn's height to hug her and Yn put her arms around her shoulders. "Goodnight, bubs. Thanks for spending time with me today", Yn said with something more than friendship festering behind her glimmering eyes. "I wouldn't want to be with anyone else, sunshine. Night", Ollie said as he backed out of her doorway into the sparkling night sky.

As Yn locked the front door, her younger sister spoke up,"So, when are you going to actually introduce him as your boyfriend? We're not dumb, Yn. It's soo obvious you two are dating."

Yn turned around so fast Ally thought she would get whiplash. "Ally, be quiet. We are not together; we're just best friends. Nothing more", Yn said, her eyes falling to the floor when she realized that she didn't want Ollie to be just her friend.

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The next few weeks Yn and Ollie went on all sorts of "friend dates". Movie theater, arcade, mall; you name it, they did it. Which makes their relationship all the more confusing not just to everyone outside it, but to themselves too.

Yet, the person who made the next step was none other than Ollie. Ollie who'd told himself for the past two years that he'd do anything but ruin their friendship. Ollie who'd grown ever so fond of Yn and saw how well they worked together. Ollie who was there through thick and thin.

After much deliberation, Ollie decided he'd confess the day of Valentine's Day. He went to a flower shop and got her a beautiful bouquet full of pink and white flowers. He got her cookies from her favorite bakery that was a town over the day before (which made him have to cancel his plans with Yn and did arise much suspicion from the girl). Yet, most importantly he wrote her a love letter.

Now, you may ask: why go through all that trouble of giving a grand confession? Well, Yn had spoken to Ollie at length about how she hopes her future boyfriend would be a big romantic and would treat her like she hung the stars in the night sky.

So on Valentine's Day, Ollie set everything up perfectly. He put the cookies in her locker with the bouquet right on top. Then, he placed a picture frame with a photograph of the two of them at the city fair front and center.

When Yn arrived, she was in shock. Ollie watched her piece everything together from around the corner. "Happy valentine's day, sunshine. I have one last thing for you before I ask you a question I've been meaning to ask you for a bit."

And so with that he handed her the letter that detailed how he felt for her to a tee.

"Dear, Yn. I'm not sure if you expected this at all, but there's no better time like the present to be honest. Before I met you, I wasn't sure love was real. That's probably because I hadn't met you yet.

A few months after we became friends, you told me I was the best thing to happen to you that year. I didn't tell you at the time, but in that moment you became the best thing that'd ever happen to me. Full-stop.

I didn't know that you were right in front of me. That the girl I loved was my best friend. But, then I looked out into your eyes and I fell in love all over again. I've never been much of a crier, but you make wanna cry in a good way. In the best way. In the happiest way. Maybe because I know that you showed me how to be in love. You care hard but you love so much harder.

Yn Ln, will you be my Valentine?

Sincerely, Your Ollie"

By the time Yn had finished reading the letter, tears were threating to escape from her eyes.

Ollie looked at her with slight fear in his own eyes. Yet, once she looked up he knew he had no reason to be afraid.

"I would love to be your Valentine, bubs. Oh-", she said before a single tear escaped.

"Are you crying in a good way, love?"

She giggled before he asked her the real question, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, you just want me to turn into a puddle, huh. Yes!"

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Exams are over and techincally Ollie and Yn have completed high school.

The obvious next step is decorating their graduation caps which they decided to do at Ollie's house.

Ollie's family had already met Yn and had come to truly love her like their own. In fact, every Sunday Yn would come over for family lunch. This tradition had come to mean the world to Yn and made Ollie incredibly happy to see her enjoy.

Now on his living room floor, their shared memories had suddenly washed over Yn.

She asked Ollie, "Do you think we'll make it through college together, bubs?"

He paused and looked at her for a second. The short flash of nervousness that passed through her gaze made him stop in his tracks. Sometimes he forgot just how tender Yn made him feel, but in moments like this one it couldn't be questioned.

"Even if you are oceans away, I'd still think of you day and night. What's made you think of this?", he asked her gently.

"Everything's changing...it's like my world's been taken away from right under my feet. I don't want you to change, too", she replied, with tears in her voice.

"We won't change, sunshine. I can't promise you anything but that", he said as he scooted over and wrapped his arms around.

As he kissed her forhead, he realized no one will ever make him feel so much emotion in a good way.

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Every emotion a girl could feel, Yn went through on Graduation Day.

Worry, fear, happiness, and sadness to name a few.

Once she arrived at her school's stadium, she immediately looked around for Ollie.

"He can't be that hard to find..he's six feet tall, for Heaven's sake", she whispered to herself.

As she turned to look in another direction, she felt hands hover over her eyes.

"Guess who?", the owner of those hands asked her.

"Hm...Pedro Pascal, is that you?", Yn asked, with false enthusiasm in her voice.

Ollie took away his hands and immediately began tickling her.

Yn wildly giggled in response and managed to say, "S-stop. I'm sorry!!"

"You're breaking my heart, sunshine", Ollie said with smiling eyes.

And so they sat down and two hours later they were high school graduates.

Once the ceremony was over, Yn's mom and sister came over to take pictures of Yn.

Ollie offered to take her pictures and grabbed her camera.

As Yn was posing and smiling from cheesy jokes Ollie was making, her mother whispered to Ollie, "You know, Oliver. Keep making her happy. You've been doing a great job ever since you met her. Ally and I feel so much better knowing she has you".

After she said that, Ollie thanked her and tried to keep his tears away. Nothing made him happier than knowing he was making the love of his life a happier person.

After they took their pictures, Yn and Ollie left to their favorite diner nearby.

As Yn got comfortable in the passenger's seat, Ollie handed her the pink rose he'd hidden in his car.

And in that moment, the dam finally broke and she shed her first tear of the day. As Ollie reached over to hold her hand, it hit her. She hadn't realized it back then but she was incredibly fortunate to have been Ollie's seat partner that day.

Because ever since that day, Ollie had been right in front of her and nothing would ever change that.

[twlgholts]

always kind of was, j.b.

chapter eleven, keep up

— jacob black x f. reader

a/n: since this fic is coming to an end soon, i wanna write more drabblee/oneshots and maybe another series. lmk any ideas u guys would wanna see! also thinking about hunger games and mcu things (esp peter parker and maybe finish my old fic)

taglist: @asillysimp @grimlinn @eneywey @shinobuily @ravisinghs-wife @mjustag1rl @mae-gi-writes @agustdeeyaa @mousetrap101 @purplefluffycows @itsfromaboyband-blog

prev. series masterlist! next.

You don’t sleep much. Not really.

You lie on your back, tangled in sheets, your room dim except for the moonlight bleeding through the window. One hand rests lightly on your lips, as if pressing there could keep the memory from slipping away. Like if you let go, it’ll fade. You close your eyes and replay it—again.

The way his voice dropped when he said I think I am, like he was afraid of what it meant but more afraid not to say it. The look in his eyes—like you were something rare and breakable, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. The tilt of his head, the way his nose barely brushed yours, like he was giving you time to back away. And then—everything warm and weightless and right.

You roll onto your side, sighing into your pillow. Jacob’s name loops in your head like a song stuck on repeat—familiar, rhythmic, a little annoying because you can’t turn it off. Your thoughts are stuck in a feedback loop of what ifs and did he mean it? and how long has he felt this way?

You think about the ride home. Quiet, but not awkward. Just full. Like there were too many words between you, all of them hovering, waiting, tangled up in what had already been said and done. You’d glanced at him more than once, caught that quiet smile still on his face—the kind that doesn’t ask for attention. Not his usual grin or his cocky smirk, but a soft pull at the corners of his mouth, like he was holding something close to his chest.

You swore he hadn’t stopped cheesing since you kissed.

He’d watched you wrestle the oversized bear into your doorway like it weighed fifty pounds, and his smile only deepened when you turned and caught him watching. You felt stupid then. The bear was too big, too much, too ridiculous. But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t. Would he?

Your fingers brush your lips again, and they still feel the shape of him—like your skin memorized the moment and doesn’t want to forget. The kiss hadn’t been fireworks (though there were those too). It was something slower and warmer, like stepping into the lake during a summer dusk, when the air is gold and the water wraps around you gently.

He kissed you like it was something he’d been holding in for years. Maybe he had. Maybe you had too.

Jacob was different now, sure. His physical differences were the most evident, but he was also quieter in some ways, heavier in others. Yet, he was not entirely different, especially not at the core. Not where it counted. He was still the boy who held your hand crossing logs in the forest, who dared you to jump off cliffs you were scared of, who made faces at you while Billy gave him a lecture. Your best friend. Your constant.

And maybe more.

You used to tell yourself it was platonic. That the jealousy was just old habits from when you were kids. But now you remember it all too clearly—how your stomach twisted when other girls talked to him at the beach, how you hated when they laughed at his jokes, how you always tried to pretend it didn’t bother you. He teased you once for getting possessive, back when you were younger, and you brushed it off, but it never really went away. You just got better at hiding it.

Maybe your love for him wasn’t just a flicker. Maybe it was a slow-burning thing. and it was always just there.

You flip onto your stomach with a groan, your cheek pressed against your pillow, still warm from all your tossing and turning. The bear sits in the corner of your room now, slumped like it knows too much. You swear it’s judging you.

Even though the ride back was silent, it wasn’t a bad silence. Just a new one. Like the space between two people standing on the edge of something they’re too scared to name. You crossed a line tonight. You kissed him. He kissed you. And now you’re here, back in your room, wondering if that one moment unraveled everything or just finally revealed it.

What if it meant everything to you and only a little to him?

What if it was just the Ferris wheel, the fireworks, the sugar-rush, the nerves?

But then why would he have looked at you like that?

You remember how gentle he was when he said goodnight. How you whispered thank you, and he shook his head. You don’t have to thank me. I’ve always wanted to. That’s what he said.

Wanted to what, Jacob?

Take you to the fair? Win you the bear? Kiss you?

Be with you?

You weren’t ready to ask. Not yet. So when you said, “I’ll text you tomorrow,” at the door, Jacob knew what that meant.

It didn’t mean you didn’t want to talk. It meant you needed time to think—to untangle everything knotted up in your chest. And he would, too. So he just nodded, didn’t ask for more because he got it. He always had.

You groan again and press your face into your blanket like maybe you can smother the thoughts into silence, but your heart is still wide awake. Still in that janky gondola, still floating, still brushing noses and hands and hearts.

When you finally walked inside, the door closed behind you, the bear dragging against your hip like dead weight. But you swear—your heart was still in his truck.

And maybe part of it still is, but there were just too many maybe’s.

The morning hits soft and golden.

You blink awake slowly, lids sticky with sleep, limbs tangled in sheets that feel too warm and too light all at once. For a moment, you forget why your chest feels full—why your lips still tingle like they’re remembering something your brain hasn’t caught up to yet.

Then it hits you.

The kiss.

His hands.

The look in his eyes like you’d hung stars for him.

You inhale, quiet and deep, as if trying to hold the memory in your lungs.

Outside, birds are chattering like they’ve got stories to tell—perched right on your windowsill like tiny, feathered neighbors catching up on the latest gossip. Your whole room is washed in sun, that golden kind that only happens right before noon, warm and slow, like the world itself is giving you space to process.

You don’t move right away. You just lie there in your pajamas, hand resting on your stomach, feeling your own heartbeat thrum steady under your palm. You let your gaze drift to the hoodie still hanging on the back of your chair—the one Jacob gave you when it started to drizzle at the drive-in.  You slip it over your head without thinking. The fabric’s soft and a little worn at the cuffs, and it still smells like him still.

You pad downstairs barefoot, teeth unbrushed, trailing thoughts behind you like loose threads.

The kitchen smells like cinnamon and strong coffee. Your mom is standing at the stove, stirring something with a wooden spoon and humming a little off-key. She doesn’t turn when you enter, just says casually, “Morning, sunshine. Sleep okay?”

You mumble a half-answer as you pour yourself a mug. “Yeah. Sort of.”

She glances over her shoulder—just briefly—but you can feel her eyes land on the hoodie. Then the change from tiredness to flustered in your fave. Then the way you’re standing in front of hrr like you forgot why you came. She doesn’t say anything right away, just hums again, this time with a knowing lilt.

You lift your mug, trying to hide behind it. “What?”

Your mom arches a brow, lips twitching. “So… are you and Jacob a thing now?”

You nearly spill the coffee.

“Excuse me?”

She shrugs, stirring like this is any other morning. “What? You two have been orbiting each other for years. I just figured something finally shifted.”

“Clear to who?” you demand, but your voice is too soft to sound truly defensive.

“Everyone,” she says, flipping a pancake like she’s talking about the weather. “I mean, come on. He used to follow you around like a duckling. Always showing up at our doorstep with some broken toy or snack he swore you had to try.”

From the living room, your dad’s voice cuts in over the rustle of a newspaper. “Kid’s had a soft spot for you since you were six. Don’t act surprised.”

You turn toward the hallway, scandalized. “Dad!”

“Don’t ‘Dad’ me,” he calls back. “We just figured it was your story to figure out.”

Your mom smiles into her spatula. “Which I guess you finally did.”

You stand there stunned, coffee forgotten in your hand, the world slightly tilted on its axis. They’d all just known? This whole time? When you thought you were being subtle? When you weren’t even sure how you felt yourself?

You press your palm to your forehead, trying to breathe around the heat crawling up your neck. “This is—this is actually insane.”

“Is it?” your mom says, scooping the pancake onto a plate. “Or is it exactly where you were always headed?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your thoughts are too loud, too tangled with the night before—the slowness of his voice when he said I think I am, the way his fingers threaded with yours like he’d done it a hundred times before, the kiss like something unfolding and familiar and new.

You take another sip of coffee. It’s cooled a little, but the warmth lingers.

The weight of your entire childhood bends forward into this moment—into this one, inevitable truth that maybe everyone else saw before you did:

You were always heading here.

To him.

It takes you all day to send the text.

Not because you don’t know what to say–but because saying anything feels like cracking open something you’re still holding with both hands. And also because you’re more nervous than you’d like to admit

You’re typing, erasing, typing again until you finally settle on something to say. You stare at it for a more than a few minutes before closing your eyes and pressing send.

You: Wanna come over?

The reply comes fast.

Jacob: Yeah, I’ll come by

You sit with that. Not just the message, but the knowing that comes with it—the way he didn’t hesitate like he was already halfway out the door.

When you hear the soft rumble of his motorcycle climbing up the street, your heart jumps. You pad out to the porch barefoot, the air thick with the scent of cut grass and rain-soaked pavement. Everything’s glowing–quiet and gold under the porch light, fireflies drifting lazily out by the edge of the yard like embers that forgot they were supposed to burn out.

The swing creaks softly as you settle into it, tucking your knees up into the hoodie, fingers curled around the armrest like it might keep you steady. You let the breeze move through you.

He pulls into your driveway and parks.

He walks slow, but not cautious. His footsteps crunch faintly on the gravel and the porch light catches in his hair as he steps up—wind-tossed, like he’s run his hands through it a dozen times on his way over. There’s a tightness in his jaw he’s not bothering to hide. His eyes find you and stay there.

“You got here fast,” you murmur.

His mouth curves, but it’s not quite a smile. “Didn’t want to make you wait.”

His gaze lingers, trailing from the curve of your legs tucked beneath the borrowed hem of his hoodie, all the way up to your face. There’s something raw in the way he looks at you, like he’s caught between disbelief and devotion, as if the mere fact that you’re here—that he’s here, real and tangible beside you—is something fragile he’s afraid to blink away.

“You look cozy,” he says, voice low, roughened at the edges like he’s still reining in the night.

You smile softly. “Wanna sit?”

He hesitates only long enough to shrug out of his jacket and toss it over the railing before he sinks down beside you. The porch swing shifts under his weight. You sway gently, shoulder to shoulder, but not quite touching.

For a minute, neither of you says anything. The night folds in around you—humming with bugs, still damp with the aftertaste of the fair. You can still smell the kettle corn on your skin, still feel the tilt of the Ferris wheel in your knees. Still see the way he looked at you when you weren’t pretending anymore.

Your voice breaks the silence first, soft and almost surprised. “It’s kind of wild that it’s only been a day.”

Jacob lets out a low breath–not quite a laugh, more like the sound of someone still catching up to the weight of things. 

“Feels longer,” he murmurs, gaze drifting somewhere out past the porch steps. The trees sway gently, lit silver under the moonlight.

You look over at him, brows raised. “Longer in a bad way?”

“Nah. not bad. Just…” He shakes his head slowly, his profile carved in shadow and porchlight. “Everything’s different now. Feels like I’m still trying to believe it actually happened.”

It. You know exactly what It is—that unspoken thing between you, thick in the air like the scent of rain before a storm. You nod, your pulse kicking up again, the way it always does when the silence between you turns this heavy, this honest.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Your fingers worry at the cuff of your sleeve—his sleeve, really—the fabric softened from wear, warm and familiar against your skin.

“I didn’t think I had the guts to say it out loud,” you admit after a beat, voice dropping lower, like a secret. “But I meant every word.”

Jacob finally looks at you, his eyes warm, steady, and a little amazed.

“I know you did,” Jacob says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I’m really glad you did.”

He shifts slightly beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the quiet. “’Cause I’ve been carrying it too,” he adds, and then, after a pause and a breath like he’s finally letting go of something he’s held for years, he says softly, “For a long time, actually.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. It’s thick with understanding, with everything neither of you had words for until now.

You tilt your head back against the porch swing, the wood creaking softly beneath you. The night air is thick with summer sounds—the distant chirp of crickets, the faint rustle of leaves—and the porch light casts a warm glow that softens Jacob’s profile into something almost tender.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, voice low.

He looks over, a hint of a grin already tugging at his lips. “Anything.”

You take a breath. “Were you waiting on me to catch up this whole time?”

Jacob doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his hands over like the answer’s hidden in his palms.

“I wasn’t waiting,” he says finally, his voice rough but steady. “I was just hoping you’d say something sooner.”

You glance at him, catching how the porch light makes his jawline sharp, his broad shoulders relaxed but steady. There’s something in his eyes now—something softer, quieter—like he’s trying not to look too serious but can’t quite help it.

“Didn’t want to scare you off,” he adds, that half-smile curling his mouth. “Even if I wanted this. Wanted you.”

Your breath catches. “And now?”

Jacob looks back at you, that smirk still there, playful but sure. “Now? I just want to be wherever you are.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Yeah, because I’m so easy to keep up with.”

He shrugs, eyes crinkling with that familiar warmth. “Hey, I’m winging it as much as you are. Never done this before either.”

You look away for a second, feeling the weight of it all settle in your chest. “Feels like something just… flipped. It’s weird.”

“It did,” he agrees, voice low but steady. Then he shifts a little, his knee brushing yours—a casual closeness that somehow feels electric. “You’re not just some girl I like. You’re the one I’ve always liked. Since forever.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, your hand reaches out on its own, fingers curling into his, and he laces his around yours like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.

You meet his eyes, searching for something you can’t quite put into words. “I’ve liked you too. Always. Even when I didn’t want to admit it.”

He squeezes your hand, that grin spreading wider now, the kind that reaches his eyes. “Guess we were both just too stubborn to say it first.”

You laugh, the nervous edge finally fading, replaced by something warm and steady. The swing rocks softly, your feet bare on the porch boards, and you sit there tangled together in that quiet, perfect moment.

Then you grin, feeling bold. “So… does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?”

Jacob laughs–deep and easy, the kind that feels like home. “God, I hope so.”

You laugh, a little breathless. “Well, now I feel better.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Better, huh? What were you worried about?”

You shrug, trying to act casual but feeling your cheeks warm. “I don’t know. I was thinking about you all night. Couldn’t sleep.”

Jacob’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion. “Oh really? You were thinking about me?”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. “Yeah, okay, maybe. But don’t get any ideas.”

He leans in a little closer, voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “Oh, I already have plenty of ideas. So, what exactly were you thinking about?”

You hesitate, then shake your head. “Okay, never mind. That’s a question for another day.”

Jacob laughs softly, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough.”

You both sit in the quiet for a moment, the night wrapping around you like a comfortable blanket.

“So…” you say finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Now what?”

Jacob’s gaze flicks to your lips, then back to your eyes, slow and sure. “Now I kiss you.”

And he does.

His lips are softer than you remember—not like grease and oil or strawberry gloss from the night before at the fair, but fresh, cool, with that unmistakable hint of mint. Like he’d brushed his teeth just knowing this moment was coming. Smooth move.

[rafeygirly]

kiss it better - stepbro!rafe au

You were in the kitchen, minding your own business, when your mother walked into the room. She looked upset and made it known that she, in fact, was, when she started raising her voice at you.

Your mom started off complaining about how you need to do more around the house even though you did help a lot around the house, you just weren't constantly on your knees cleaning. You just stayed quiet as you took her yelling at you.

She then went on to talk about how you're always at home and need to get a life. Your mom mentioned how you need to make more friends and start putting yourself out there, maybe even get a boyfriend. You retorted that you had some good friends but you didn't want to have friends to just have friends and how you weren't interested in anyone being your boyfriend right now. You shouldn't even said anything because that caused her to go on a whole other spiel.

She started to rant about how you always had an attitude with her. She talked about how you needed to shut your mouth and respect her. You just stood there as she went on and on about how you needed to stop talking back.

You were standing there as she just kept repeating and complaining about the same thing over and over. You were about to burst out crying. Neither of you had known that Rafe had gotten home from the country club in the middle of the argument, or more, just your mom yelling at you, and heard basically everything. He retreated upstairs.

Finally, she stopped and you went upstairs to your bedroom. When you opened the door, you saw Rafe sitting on your bed. You were tearing up and seeing him in your room made you frustrated.

"Oh my god. Get out, Rafe." You complained.

"Don't get mad at me. I'm not the one who yelled at you." Rafe said as he shut the door behind you, locking it. "Why was she yellin' at you anyway?" He asked as he stood directly in front of you, looking down at you.

"It doesn't matter, Rafe." You say.

"Fine, you don't want no one to talk to, that's fine-" Rafe starts to walk towards the door, acting like he was going to leave.

"She was going on and on about a bunch of things." You blurt out and he looks back at you. "About how I don't help enough at home, how I don't go out enough, don't have enough friends, how I don't have a boyfriend." You tell him.

"Why's it matter that you don't got a boyfriend?" Rafe asks, only really hearing that one thing. He walked closer to you and put his hands on your arms.

"I don't know." You say. "She's always complaining that I don't have one."

Rafe's hands move to your waist as he looks down at you, pulling your body practically flush against him. In any normal circumstances, you would've pushed him away but you were way too upset, you weren't thinking straight right now.

"You don't need a boyfriend. None of the guys on Figure 8 would treat you right and you sure as hell ain't gettin' with some pogue." Rafe says, a harsh edge to his words.

"She's never happy with me. It's always something." You complain as you tear up. "I hate living here. I wish I'd just gone to college somewhere and gotten out of here." You continue.

"Then you wouldn't have me." Rafe says, almost cockily.

"You just add to everything." You say, a bit meanly.

"Hey." Rafe says. "I'm here comfortin' you, ain't I?" He responds, his words firm. "You know I gotch'ya, little sis." He says, his hands rubbing your hips. You go quiet. "I'm here." Rafe says.

Rafe decides to use this moment of vulnerability for you as a way in. He leans down and kisses you. You tense up at the contact as you whine. He pulls you closer, his bigs arms wrapped around you as he deepens the kiss. Sickly, you give in, relaxing into the kiss and even kissing him back.

The two of you kiss until you can barely breathe so you pull away, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and regret coursing through your veins.

The next few days, you were so full of shame that you avoided him at all costs, as a matter of fact, you avoided everyone in your family as much as you could, even if your mother and step father had no clue about what had happened between Rafe and you.

The worst part of it all was that the kiss and being in his embrace like that felt so good even if it was so wrong.

𓇼 alt rafe cameron au masterlist