#hes only struggling because shes PUSHING THE BAR DOWN!!!!!

[musubiki]

the only way to get better at drawing men is to draw men, so heres lime and his daily workout routine ✨

[little-diable]

Not a Ghost - Dean Winchester (smut)

I feel like my Dean fics are always just pwp, but I always try to weave in some plot points, promise. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: For the past ten years, Dean had been forced to accept that she was dead – dead because John hadn't been able to rescue her in time. But what happens when he stumbles upon her in a bar? Not a ghost, but alive and breathing.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, reunion, John is a dick as always

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

“You’re staring, it’s getting creepy man,” Sam murmured his words as he gulped down another sip of his beer, eyes following his brother’s line of sight. Dean didn’t reply, eyes fixated on a woman standing a few feet away. The bar was crowded, packed with people neither Sam nor Dean wanted to interact with, and yet Dean’s eyes had been following her around ever since they had stepped into the bar almost an hour ago. “Dean, c’mon man.”

Sam’s hand met his brother’s arm, hoping to finally gain his attention, but Dean barely reacted. The older Winchester brother had his eyebrows furrowed, hand wrapped around the beer bottle he had barely drank from. It wasn’t the first time Sam had caught his brother admiring a woman, god, Dean was famous for loving “frisky women” after all, and yet this was something new, something Sam couldn’t understand. 

“Excuse me.” Dean rose to his feet, leaving his confused brother behind without explaining a thing to him. Sam could only watch Dean move through the crowd, coming to a halt in front of the woman whose face Sam hadn’t seen just yet. It was too loud for Sam to pick up on the words Dean spoke, words that forced the woman to slowly turn towards him. 

“What the fuck?” With the words rolling off Sam’s tongue, he jumped to his feet, full of confusion, not understanding what was going on. But before Sam could reach the two, she had tugged on Dean’s hand, pulling the man out into the cold. 

“How is this possible?” Dean’s words dripped with confusion, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was trying to protect himself from her. It was too dark for (y/n) to pick up on the tears welling up in his piercingly green eyes, overwhelmed by the sadness washing through him, the sadness he had tried to swallow for the past decade. 

She wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be breathing, wasn’t supposed to be alive. 

“How is what possible? You have the fucking nerve to speak to me again after ten fucking years of silence? You packed up and left, Dean!” Her angry words left Dean choking, taking a step back as if she had pushed him. For a second neither of them spoke, engulfed in silence and the sound of Sam slowly stepping closer. The taller brother kept his distance, yet he found himself just as overwhelmed by his emotions, unsure how to react.  

“What are you talking about? You are supposed to be dead, I mourned you for ten years, and now I find you here, alive.” Dean’s words dripped with anger, but Sam could clearly pick up on the sadness that thumped through his brother’s veins. This was fucked up, another level of fucked up.

“Dead? Dean, why should I be dead?” No longer was (y/n) close to screaming, she took a step closer to Dean who struggled to keep standing still, body begging him to move away from her. If Sam hadn’t been with him, he would have been sure that this was just his mind fucking with him, hallucinating the woman he had once been engaged to, the woman he had mourned for a decade. But as much as Dean wanted to speak up, to explain what was going on, he couldn’t, too choked up. 

(Y/n)’s now glassy eyes flickered to Sam’s, desperate for an explanation as she watched the taller brother take another step closer to interfere. He kept his voice calm as he spoke up, eyes flickering between Dean, who kept staring at her, and (y/n), “It was a Tuesday evening, dad came home after his hunt with you and told us that you died that day, that he had burned your body because there wasn’t any time to lose. He explained every detail, how you had been torn to shreds, how he had tried to save you, but was too hurt himself to react quick enough. I stitched him up that evening, he looked horrible, littered with scars, so there was no doubt, he must have told the truth.”

The gasp that left (y/n) was almost louder than the sob that tried to leave Dean, reminded of the day that haunted him every single night. Tears dripped down both their cheeks, eyes now unable to break contact. 

“He, uhm,” she had to clear her throat, trying to wipe away her tears with her sleeves. “That day he told me that you no longer wanted the engagement, but didn’t know how to tell me and that you left that night with Sam. I was so angry, so I also packed up and left, I couldn’t stay. John was with me for a few weeks.” Both brothers could still remember how they had packed their things, how Dean had been driven on by the need to disappear from the house that reminded him of (y/n), and how Sam knew that he couldn’t stay away from Dean, not knowing if he’d try to hurt himself. They hadn’t tried to get in touch with John for a while, guided by the anger of him not being able to save (y/n). 

“I will kill him.” Goosebumps rose on Sam’s skin at the tone of Dean’s voice, an unfamiliar tone, full of hatred. But Sam couldn’t blame Dean for his anger, he had been right there, watching his brother suffer for years on end, trying to drown his hurt in alcohol and one-night stands, addicted to hunts and the distraction they offered. Before Sam could even try to speak up, (y/n) had slung her arms around Dean’s waist, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. 

……

“It’s alright, Dean, I won’t let you leave. I promise.” Her voice echoed through the apartment, eyes set on Dean’s face. Sam had made his way back to the motel he and Dean were staying in, while Dean had driven (y/n) and himself back to her place. Neither of them could stop touching one another, still not believing that they were reunited after all these years. 

“I don’t know what to believe if I’m being honest, sweetheart. Deep down I always knew he was fucked up, but this? All for what?” Only now did Dean pick up on the hesitation tugging on her features. He rose to his feet with a huff, hand combing through his hair as he growled a raspy “Unbelievable”. 

“In those few weeks, he stayed with me, he tried to convince me that he was the better choice, that you had nothing on him. Of course, I didn’t give in, I guess that’s why he eventually left. And I haven’t heard from him since.” She didn’t dare meet his angry gaze, fumbling with her shaking fingers. (Y/n) tried to stop herself from crying once again, knowing that as much as she had struggled the past years, Dean has had it much worse, mourning the person he had wanted to marry. 

“I should have known, he was always fascinated by you, some weird obsession I should have paid more attention to. I am sorry, sweetheart, so sorry.” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her to lift her gaze. She didn’t get a chance to reply, words stuck in her throat as Dean kissed her breathlessly. The moan clawing through her urged Dean on, pressing her against the kitchen island. 

(Y/n)’s fingers found their way to his hair, tugging on his roots with as much strength that forced a growl out of Dean. They couldn’t part, didn’t want to break the kiss, it had been too long since they had gotten the chance to communicate their emotions in a raw way like this. But as much as they wanted to keep on kissing one another, they were also desperate for more, for Dean to bury himself deep inside of her. 

“How do you want me?” (Y/n)’s hazy eyes found his piercing green ones, tongue running along her lower lip. She pondered over his words, not once in the past ten years had she believed that she’d get another chance to be loved by Dean Winchester, and now she didn’t know what she wanted. Too many things she needed, too many choices he offered her. His fingers worked on her shirt, tugging it over her head, groaning as his eyes found her chest. Within seconds he had ripped her bra from her frame, lips finding her hardening nipples. 

“Fast, rough, fuck, I don’t care. I just need you inside of me.” She had ached for that familiar stretch, had ached for the feeling of his cock filling her, something she had thought of for all these years. Dean hummed, letting the sound vibrate on her skin as he palmed her breasts, while he nudged his hardening cock against her clothed cunt. Curses ripped through (y/n), head rolling back to let go of another heavy moan. 

Without another warning, Dean pulled away, turned her around and pressed her front down against the cold surface of her kitchen island. With quick fingers he had pushed her jeans and panties down her legs before she heard him unzip his jeans, before she heard him fumble with a condom wrapper, knowing that as much as he wanted to feel every part of her, they couldn’t risk anything, not now at least. 

“I’ll give you fast and rough, baby, but after that I’ll take my sweet time with you.” Dean had pushed into her before she could reply, forcing a deep moan out of the both of them. Both their bodies needed to adjust to one another, even though she was dripping for him, folds covered in her arousal, her cunt still struggled to take all of him. Deep breaths left them both, minds torn between the sweet sensation and the overwhelming wave of emotions clashing through them.

“Move, please. Fuck me like you would have done all these years.” The growl leaving Dean made her breath hitch in her chest, fingers reaching for the edge of the kitchen island to hold on. He pulled out of her only to thrust into her with more force, set on leaving bruises on her hips with the ferocious pace he was about to build. 

(Y/n)’s walls clenched around him, fluttering with every thrust that had her seeing stars. No other man had ever fucked her like Dean. Dean, the one she had always loved. Dean, the man she had wanted to grow old with. Dean, the man who had mourned a woman who had waited for his return for all these years. If there was one thing (y/n) was determined about, it was making things right, making up for all these lost years. 

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing Dean to fuck her deep, hard, fast. It was perfect, cheesy almost with their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Dean’s fingertips were buried in the flesh of her hips, set on leaving bruises that matched those the kitchen island would leave behind. He was focused on marking her up, claiming her like he had done over a decade ago. 

“Jesus, sweetheart, you feel so good. I dreamt of this almost every night.” Dean’s raspy voice left her groaning, eyes squeezed shut to try and hold on. She didn’t want to cum just yet, didn’t want to let go when Dean fucked her this ruthlessly. (Y/n) was too choked up to reply, wanted to tell him how she had always dreamt of him, of the way he touched her, but she couldn’t, she could only moan for him. 

“You’re still so fucking tight, squeezing me just right. You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” An almost silent “Yes” managed to leave (y/n), coaxing a chuckle out of Dean as he let his fingers find her clit, rubbing her bundle to push her over the edge. She loudly moaned for him, giving into the call of her arising high with her eyes squeezed shut, walls clamping down on his cock. 

Dean kept fucking her, forcing his cock deeper into her with every thrust. Moans kept clawing through the both of them as (y/n) came on his cock, allowing Dean to fuck her through her high in search of his own. He kept thrusting into her, head rolling back as his cock twitched, about to fill the condom. The curses leaving Dean made her walls flutter once again, knowing that he’d fuck her all through the night. 

With a huff, Dean pulled out of her, throwing away the condom as she slowly turned around, facing him. He moved back towards (y/n) with a smile glued to his lips, hands cupping her warm cheeks to pull her in for a slow kiss.

“You’re still wearing it.” (Y/n) murmured the words as she reached for his hand, looking at the ring she had pushed onto his finger as he had asked her to marry him, wanting Dean to also wear a ring. Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes, thinking of all these years they had lost, years they could have spent together rather than apart.

“Of course I do, I couldn’t take it off, I didn’t even try to.” (Y/n) gave him a soft push back, redressed herself quickly before disappearing in another room – only to reappear seconds later. His green eyes found the ring he had bought her over ten years ago, unable to bite down his smile as she came to a halt in front of him, eyes finding his. 

“If you will still have me, I’d like to start wearing it again.” A choked sound left Dean, lips finding hers as he took the ring from her, pushing it back onto the finger it had once rested on all too comfortably. 

“I’ll always have you, sweetheart.”

[bunnylovesani]

A Birthday Affair

Summary: It's your birthday and your best friend is making you a cake! Too bad she's left you home alone with her boyfriend, Anakin. She should've known you two had a thing for each other, right?

Content warnings: cheating, p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink

WC: 2.6k

“Alright guys, there’s only one shop that sells the buttercream we need and it’s way at the other end of town.” Padme shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. “Could’ve sworn I’d already picked some up…but anything for the birthday girl. I might be a while so make sure you keep an eye on the cake in the oven!”

“We’re not that incompetent, Padme.” Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, we got it!” You answer as she leaves and turn to face Anakin. “You should really be nicer to her.”

“I’m plenty nice.” He responds. “And you’re the birthday girl, it’s you I need to be nice to.”

“But she’s your girlfriend. You’re obligated to be nice to her all year round.” You put the empty batter bowl into the sink as Anakin stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the countertops. 

“I’m about as nice to her as she is to me.” He murmurs and you look back in confusion. Were they having issues you didn’t know about? 

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Padme is the perfect girlfriend and you-“ You paused, looking at him up and down with a light scowl. “-well you’re you.”

“Ah, so you think I’m not good enough for her? How cliche.” He gives you a look of displeasure. “And what is it that makes me so unworthy of her company?”

“You’re not bad per se, you’re just…” You sigh, struggling to put your thoughts into words. “Look at it this way- Padme is one of those rare people. She manages to balance being successful and beautiful with somehow being humble and kind- I know for a fact she wakes up every morning to make you breakfast- and she does things like drive all over the city looking for a specific frosting for her best friend. That’s just the kind of person she is.” You ramble on, walking around the kitchen as Anakin stares at you in fascination.

“And then there’s you, who’s forgotten every anniversary and has been fired from every job because of his inability to control his temper. You see what I’m getting at?” 

Anakin furrows his thick brows as he processes what you’re saying and you think he might get mad at you for a second but to your relief, he cracks a bright smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of a mess as you are. Just as unworthy.“ You laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face. 

“So you’re saying I should be with someone better suited for me?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Someone like…you?” He raises an eyebrow. 

You chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he’d gotten. 

“Obviously not. I-I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” Stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn’t budge, tall figure towering over you. That stupid smirk he has plastered over his face increases your heart rate tenfold. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I got you flustered?” He sneers.

“Stop playing around.” You push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down it with a huff.

“Padme told me about the little crush you had on me.” He stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment. 

“Crush is too strong of a word for what that was.” You feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met Anakin at that bar last Christmas, you’ll admit you initially wanted him all to yourself. But what were you supposed to do when Padme got to him first? You can’t believe she told him. 

“So you don’t find me attractive anymore?” He asks in that provocative tone of his. 

“The outer shell is fine but the inside could do with a little work.” You feign confidence, avoiding the question. To be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near. 

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” He asked quietly, taking a seat on the footstool across the sofa. 

“No, but I sense you’re going to anyway.” You brace yourself.

“That night I saw you and Padme playing pool at the bar.” He begins. “I wanted to approach you, not her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“But she came up to me first and when I asked her who her friend was, she told me you weren’t interested…in men.” Your mouth widens as his words linger in the air.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. “I don’t know why she’d do that.” 

“Because she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.” He gets up to sit next to you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.

“I thought you were a lesbian for half the time I’ve known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and Padme had to come clean. She thought I’d find it funny.” He curls his lip in disgust.

“And did you?”

“No.” He responds, steely eyes staring right through you. “I’m still mad about it.”

“Anakin…” You cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could so easily take.

“I’m just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. If it wasn’t for her deceit, it could’ve been us together.” He rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.

“But it’s not. And it never will be. You’ll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. Either way, you’re off limits.” You try to assert some boundaries before your self-control completely slips away from you.

“And if it weren’t for these limits?” He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Oh God, the cake! Must go and check on the cake.” You get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down. 

“I said what if it weren’t for those limits?” He repeats sternly and you can’t help but fixate on his rosy pink lips. You’d always wondered how they’d feel pressed up against yours.

“In another galaxy where you’d never met her-“ You sigh, walls crumbling down. “then I’d be yours.”

“Is that what you want?” His husky voice mutters, barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t another galaxy. This is reality.” You shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between you. 

“Fuck reality. I want you.” He pulls you in and you’re hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body. 

“Anakin, no. Padme is my best friend! I’m not a homewrecker.” You cry out, unsure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself. 

“You can’t wreck something that’s already fallen apart. I don’t care about her— I don’t care about any of it anymore. For God’s sake, I even hid the damn buttercream because I wanted her to leave us alone for a while.” Your mouth gapes open at his revelation.

“I knew it!” You point your finger at him but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely an inch apart. 

“I need you. In every way possible.” His voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together. 

“Ugh, Ani I-“

“Do you want me as much as I want you? Please, put me out of my misery.” He whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words. 

“Of course I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little too strong. He has you gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it was the last kiss he’d ever have. 

“Don’t you worry about her, I’ll take care of everything.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all. 

“I’ve thought about this for so long.” You cry, pawing at him. The sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an eternity of forcing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect for Padme, out of respect for Ani who chose her- but now that you’d learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should’ve been yours- he is yours.

“Lie down for me sweetheart, I wanna see my pretty girl.” He pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. “You wear these just for me?” You nod frantically- it’s true, you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits. 

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a bra, young lady?” He scolds you playfully. 

“Mhm, it’s fun watching you fight the urge to stare at the way they bounce and jiggle.”

“You noticed that, huh?” You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, taking turns sucking on the nipples. 

“Best pair of tits I’ve seen in my life.” He mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and lick all over, making you writhe underneath him. 

“Ani, please.” You buck your hips up towards him, desperately needing more. “Hurry, we don’t know when she’ll be home.” 

“Then it’s a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside.” He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs. 

“Ani, no! We can’t lock her out, what would she think?”

“I don’t care, all I know is if I don’t get enough of this sweet pussy, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. You bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peek through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can’t get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. Not wanting to inflate his already engorged ego, you try not to look shocked- but he sees right through you. 

“You tryin’ to make me feel bad, sweetie? No problem, I’ll have you squealing in a minute anyway.” He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.

With one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. Reaching forward and grabbing it from you, he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw. 

“I want to hear every little sound you make. Raw and unmuted.” He growls. 

“B-but someone might hear-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” He asserts aggressively. “Let them hear. They might as well start getting used to it now.” You moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips. 

“If you want something in your mouth that bad, here.” He offers you his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your heart’s content. Just as you’ve adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it’s even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Anakin’s ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you’re on the verge of passing out. Your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened with arousal and sweat. 

“Ani, mm fuck- fill me up, please!” You dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment. 

“You want my cum, sweetheart? You wanna be daddy’s cum slut, hm? Let me hear you say it.” His strokes get deeper and sloppier as he hurtles his way to his release. 

“Yes daddy, yes! I wanna be your cum slut so bad, it’s the only thing I want.” You ramble, words barely audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching. 

“I could never say no to you.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses. 

“I need it, need it noww.” You whine, tits bouncing into circles as he roughly pounds into you, strong hand maintaining a firm grip on your hip as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spilling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. He rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m gonna leave her.” He softly speaks. “I’m leaving and I’m telling her about us.” 

Your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. There’s an us?

The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top down and your skirt back on but can’t find your frilly panties anywhere. Anakin just about finishes zipping up his jeans when Padme walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in unnatural positions on the couch. 

“Hey guys, I had to check several different stores but I finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do I smell something burning?” 

Fuck, you forgot the cake.

Running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray. Despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder. 

“How did you forget?! What were you doing?” She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the bin and frowning at you. 

“Nothing, Padme. We just got carried away chatting is all. ‘m really sorry.” You walk over to join her in the kitchen but start to feel Ani’s seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, Anakin rushes over in front of you to distract Padme. 

“It was my fault, I said I’d keep track of time and I didn’t.” He explains, subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way. 

“Classic Anakin, honestly a monkey would have better time management.” She hisses, barging past him and opening windows to let the smoke out. “No wonder you can’t keep a job.” He takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he’s trying to restrain himself. 

“Not now.” You think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Padme stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Anakin rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear “She goes to bed early, you know.”

Maybe you wouldn’t tell her just yet. 

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10

Part 2 here

[soapsbaby]

Take the hint

Summary: The CoD guys and Valeria's reaction to you being hit on at a club.

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: SFW Word count: 800ish

Ghost

He gets jealous really easily, he doesn’t like sharing you at all. Still, usually he’ll just stand somewhere where he can see you well, arms crossed in front of his chest and waiting for you to reject the person.

The moment you’re with him again he’ll have an arm tightly around you, pulling you as closely to him as he can, proving to himself that he is the only one who gets to do this with you.

If the person is too persistent he will go into guard dog mode. He would absolutely break someone’s bones for you.

Soap

He gets jealous too, but he always tries his very best to not show it. He knows in his core that he is your one and only and would never betray him so he will just push the feeling down and look forward to you being back by his side.

He will absolutely make fun of the other person once it’s just the two of you, can’t believe a guy like that thinks he could get with you… So delusional, hm? 

König

He doesn’t really go out much in the first place and when he does, he is pretty much attached to you at the waist and no one dares hit on you when you are with that mountain of a man.

If it does happen, because you went to quickly grab a drink or went to the bathroom, he will start spiraling quickly. He already has a lot of anxiety about you leaving him and the moment he sees you speaking with someone else his alarm bells go off, that it’s finally happening and he won’t be the one you’ll go home with today.

He wants to intervene, but he doesn’t dare to, he can just watch, but he feels better immediately when you finally get rid of the other person, rolling your eyes and giving König a bright grin, mouthing “what a weirdo” towards him and immediately get on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. 

He’ll make sure to not let go of your hand for the rest of the night and be as affectionate as possible. 

Price

He’s super relaxed about it, just standing in the corner sipping his beer and waiting for you to deal with it. He finds it incredibly attractive how well you handle yourself.

He also takes it as a compliment that other people find you that attractive, but of course he is the one you ultimately go back home with.

Can’t blame them, honey. You look out of this world.

Gaz

He tries to not let it bother him, but it always does. He is always afraid you’ll leave him and he has had some bad experiences in the past with other people that sensitized him to it.

You know about that so you always make sure to shut down the other person as quickly as possible to get back to his side again.

You can tell that he is unhappy when you come back but once you pull him in for a kiss, still in view of the person who hit on you, he feels better immediately. 

Valeria

The types of places she takes you out to are full of people that know you belong to her and wouldn’t dare hit on you. You stay by her side anyway so there is barely any chance for someone to try and hit on you.

If it does happen she gets very possessive. Has pulled a gun on someone who got inappropriate with you before and would absolutely do it again. 

Rudy

He will watch on with a grin. He trusts you completely and he knows you’ll handle it.

If the other person is too persistent, he might get involved, a cold smile on his lips as he yells across the bar. Sorry, dude. They’re not into blonds. Believe me, I’d know. 

Will be extremely relaxed up until the point where he sees you get uncomfortable with the other person’s behavior. He will get really heated when he sees you struggle and has beaten up someone before, smashing them against the bar and hissing at them to get some damn manners before he breaks their ribs. 

Alejandro

Alejandro knows you can deal with it yourself but he still likes to be present as a safety net so you don’t have to feel on your own in case things go wrong.

Usually will come up to you and just listen in, putting an arm around your waist if you seem uncomfortable. Usually the other person gets the hint by then but if not he’ll get involved. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

shit talkin' up all night

for @steddiesongfics song 'for the first time' by the script

rated m | 1,469 words | cw: alcohol, arguing | tags: angst with a happy ending, established relationship, robin buckley deserves an award for saving their relationship everyone say thank you robin, they're in love, eddie is just dumb for a bit

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The arguing started when Steve suggested they move back in with Wayne.

They were struggling; Eddie wasn't an idiot, he could see the told his unemployment was taking on their financial situation. They were able to cover rent from Steve's paycheck, but they had to cut back on literally everything else. No more date nights, no more trips to visit Dustin, no more buying the good bacon for breakfast.

It wasn't for lack of trying, it's just that Eddie only had a GED and no marketable skills outside of playing music. Any job he could get would make miserable.

"I just think if we take some time to save up, maybe you'll be able to find something you like and then it'll be better," Steve shrugged.

"I'm not moving back in with Wayne. He did enough for me already."

"Then I'll get another job."

"No, you're not working two jobs. I'll just...go work at the McDonald's."

"Eds, you would hate it there."

"Well, it's a paycheck."

Steve sighed and walked away.

And then it got worse.

Eddie did find a job. He worked part time at the music lesson school. It didn't pay nearly enough, but it was something.

Until one of the parents found out he was working there and threw a fit and he got fired. The owner apologized, but said if it came down to his business and Eddie, he had to let Eddie go.

Back to square one.

Steve was too understanding. It was frustrating.

Eddie started arguments just to make him mad.

Whatever would push him: leaving all the dirty dishes in the sink, staying out late without letting him know, buying the good bacon for breakfast when it wasn't in the budget.

It did start to work eventually.

"Why are you doing this?" Steve asked eventually, after two nights of Eddie coming home late for no other reason than to make Steve upset. He hadn't even done anything, just walked around downtown for a couple hours and thought about how much of a failure he'd been.

"I'm not doing anything," he'd say back.

Steve would push.

Eddie would push back.

Little things turned into big things.

And then Eddie came home drunk.

He hadn't even been to a bar, he hadn't been with anyone else. He'd gotten one six pack of beer and realized halfway through it that he hadn't eaten all day and kept drinking anyway.

The buzz was great until he was stumbling through the front door, waking Steve up from his half-slumber on the couch of the apartment.

Steve didn't even argue. He just shook his head and went to their bedroom, closing the door and making it clear he didn't want to be around Eddie.

The next morning, Steve was already gone when Eddie managed to roll off the couch.

"Steve's not gonna say it, so I will," Robin's voice made him trip over his boots on the floor. She was sitting in the armchair, glaring at him. "You're pushing him away because you don't think you deserve someone who is patient and loving. He used to try that shit with me, with the kids, with Hopper. Started shit just to see if we'd leave. Pretended he was the only one who could deal with his problems."

Eddie blinked back at her, vision blurry from sleep and unshed tears. He wasn't gonna cry in front of Robin.

"I could understand why he did it. He had shitty parents and shitty friends before all of us. Took him some time to get used to being cared for." Robin leaned forward. "But you've had Wayne for a long time. Us. Steve. So what is it that's causing this? Why are you hurting Steve? Why are you hurting yourself?"

Eddie had been to therapy for a month or so after everything. The government insisted on it. He'd even done what they asked of him. Talked about everything that happened, talked about his childhood, talked about being gay in a town that thought being gay was bad enough to send you to hell, but somehow still the least of Eddie's crimes.

The therapist told him it seemed like he was always preparing himself to get hurt, even with the people that he did trust. That was the last time he went to the therapist.

"Because this is all I'll ever be, Robin! Steve should get out while he can, find someone who isn't fuckin' useless. Someone who can get a real job or go to school or something."

"Is this because you can't be on your feet for more than a couple hours?"

Eddie was silent.

"Do you think that means you can't do things? Do you think Steve wants to watch you suffer more than you already have?"

Eddie shook his head once.

"Then here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna shower and clean up the house a little. You're gonna cook that chicken dish Steve loves so much because I went to the deli to get fresh ingredients for you. You're gonna open that bottle of wine I did not steal from Chrissy's restaurant. You're gonna talk to him."

"Okay."

"And then tomorrow, you're gonna come interview for a job at the museum. They're opening a new exhibit called Rock Through The Ages and they're looking for someone to do tours. It's four hours a day, five days a week. Pay is more than you made anywhere else plus tips. Interview is a formality, they already know you're qualified."

"Robin, I-"

"And you're gonna shut up. I love you, too, Eddie. And I love that dingus who loves you. So get your shit together so you can both be as happy as I know you can be."

Eddie hugged her for a long time, probably much longer than Robin would have ever allowed him to if it weren't for the circumstances.

He cleaned himself up, he cleaned up the apartment, he cooked dinner, and he opened the bottle of wine.

Neither of them were big fans of wine, but this was a $100 bottle. Eddie would drink every last drop.

When Steve came through the door at 4:39 on the dot, just like he did every week day, Eddie was holding a glass of wine out to him with a small smile.

"Eds? What's this?"

"Been a while since we've had a date night. Thought maybe we deserved it."

Steve stared back at him blankly, then let out a sob and walked over to him, burying his face in his neck.

"Sh, it's okay, sweetheart. I'm right here," Eddie wrapped him up in his arms, kissing his head. "I'm here."

"You promise?" Steve's broken voice nearly tore Eddie in two. How had he let it get this bad?

"I promise, Stevie. I'm sorry I've been somewhere else in my head."

Steve pulled away, sniffling and looking around the room as he realized that dinner was already set out on the bar and the dishes were done.

"You did all this for me?"

"For us."

"Is that chicken cacciatore?" Steve walked to the plate in his usual spot and smiled. "You made this?"

"I did. Hopefully it's edible. If not, I already have the menu for the Italian place down the road by the phone," Eddie pulled Steve's chair out for him and then sat down next to him.

They talked through dinner, mostly about Steve's day, and then about Eddie's. He brought up the interview and Steve beamed like the sun.

"That sounds perfect for you, Eds."

"I know. I think it'll be great."

The bottle of wine went down easy. Maybe a little too easy.

By the time they realized it was gone, they were giggling and leaning on each other, cheeks red and eyes glazed over with a buzz that was more than just the high alcohol content.

Steve leaned in to kiss him.

Eddie leaned in to kiss him back.

And for the first time in a long time, they stayed up all night, talking, kissing, touching in ways they'd nearly forgotten how to do.

When Eddie got the job, he sent Robin flowers. Nothing fancy, the pay wasn't that good. But he had to thank her for getting his head out of his ass and his ass in shape.

Steve didn't ask when he saw the bill for it, just smiled and kissed the top of Eddie's head while he got ready for his first day of work.

"I love you. Good luck today," Steve said as he fixed his glasses before grabbing his keys to head to his job at the youth center downtown.

"Love you too. Pizza tonight?"

"Sounds good, love. Wine?"

Eddie nodded towards the bottle of $3 wine from the liquor store.

Steve laughed. "I'll grab some Tylenol on my way home."

[tropes-and-tales]

It's That Simple

Day 16:  Praise Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst, kinda (Bob gets deflated); talk of panic attacks and self-doubt; smut (handjob); 18+ only.

Word Count:  5656

AN:  This was requested by an anon!

AN2: If you've been around a bit, you know the drill: this isn't edited or re-read or beta'ed.

It’s another terrible first date.

Bob struggles to even snag a first date.  He’s unassuming; he lacks the swagger and extroversion to stroll up to a woman and talk her up.  Most of his dates are obtained from other members of the Daggers—double dates, set-ups, stuff like that.

The latest one was set up by Fanboy, a friend of his sister.  Within moments of meeting his date, Bob knows it’ll be a mess:  she makes a face when she greets him at the door, and it goes downhill from there.

It ends when she gets a text.  An emergency, she tells him, and Bob is too smart and perceptive to buy the lie.  But he’s a gentleman, so he nods seriously and offers to drive her home or wherever she’s needed, which she declines.  He pays the bill of their abortive dinner, and he pretends not to notice how his date practically skips out of the restaurant and into the waiting car of a friend.

He should go home to lick his wounds.  Another failed date, another night alone.  He sees the stretch of his life in front of him and despairs that he’ll ever meet someone, and he should go home to sulk, but he goes to the Hard Deck instead.

He might as well break the news to Fanboy, at least, and maybe Nat can cheer him up with her usual sarcastic humor.

-----

The Hard Deck is as packed as always, and Bob—in his date clothes of dress pants and a button down shirt—stands out among the uniformed pilots and fellow wizzos.  He finds the Dagger Squad, confesses his failure to Fanboy, then settles into a stool near Nat and Rooster.

Nat puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a comforting squeeze.  “I’m sorry, Bob,” she says.

“Her loss,” Rooster offers.

Bob shrugs.  It’s not anyone’s loss but his, but he offers them a weak smile that fools neither of them.

It’s Hangman who sidles up to Bob, and in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, the cocky pilot offers to be his wingman—which makes Bob laugh, and it comes out laced with some bitterness.

“No offense, Bagman, but you’d be a terrible wingman,” Bob says.

“What?  Why?”

Bob lifts his hands in a helpless shrug.  “Because you’re….you.  And I’m not like you at all.”

“So?”

He scoffs in frustration at Bagman being so obtuse.  As if any woman would look at Bob if he walked up to them with Jake at his side.  It’d be like an Aston Martin rolling up alongside an old Honda Civic, and that’s the analogy he uses to make Jake understand.  But Jake shakes his head, clasps him on his shoulders and gives him a friendly shake.

“Nah, Baby on Board.  You got it all wrong.  You just need some confidence.”  Another teeth-rattling shake.  “Trust me, there’s a girl out there for you.  C’mon.”

Bob finds himself powerless to resist as Jake pushes him off of his stool, then shoves him gently in the direction of the crowded bar.

-----

The first pair that Jake sidles up to is a bust, but it’s not Bob’s fault:  Jake had hooked up with the one woman before, forgotten about it completely.  He’s moments from getting a drink tossed in his face when Bob tugs him away from the danger and they pull back, reevaluate.

The second pair is a bust too.  The first woman doesn’t even let Jake get the full sentence out before she’s wagging her ring finger in his face.

“Married,” she says, her words clipped.  “Move along, sailor.”

The third pair?  The third pair works out.  Jake hones in on one immediately, a blonde with big doe eyes, but the second one—you—rolls her eyes at him.

But when you turn to study Bob, you don’t roll your eyes.  You hold out a hand, introduce yourself, ask for his rank, then pat the empty chair beside you.

“Settle in, Lieutenant,” and your smile is easy.  “Let’s chat while we watch your friend strike out, huh?”

-----

It turns out you’re drunk, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

For one, you’ve fallen in with Bob Floyd, the most gentlemanly man a drunk, single girl could come across.  He’d never take advantage, and in fact, he’ll end up driving you home at the end of the night, getting you into your apartment.  He will take your shoes off of you, tuck you into your bed, and press a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen on you before he sees himself out.

For another thing, Bob Floyd has fallen in with you, the most fiercely sweet drunk that a down-on-himself man could come across.  You’re one of those loud cheerleader types when you drink; the kind of woman who chats up other women in the bathroom, who tells them they’re beautiful, that you love them.  With your friend and Jake otherwise engaged, Bob finds himself caught in the tractor beam of your charm.

“You look sad,” you tell him around the rim of your glass.  “Are you sad?”

You’re drunk and Bob is sad, and you’re staring at him with wide eyes that glitter in the low light of the bar, so he tells you.  He tells you about his terrible date, the latest in a string of terrible dates, that he’s been single for so long and he’s not entirely convinced he’ll ever meet someone, that he’s too scrawny, that his glasses are terrible (one date called them serial killer glasses), that he’s too reserved to ever catch the eye of a woman, too unremarkable looking, let alone—

“No!”  You cut him off by exclaiming it, a near-shout, and your hand finds his forearm and grips him there.  “You’re gorgeous, Bill!  Don’t even say you aren’t!”

He grins despite himself.  “It’s Bob.  But thanks.  I mean, it’s nice of you to say—”

“Bob.  Yes.  Sorry.  Bob, not Bill.  I say it because it’s true.”  You release your hold on his arm and sit back in your chair, your eyes narrowed now as you study him closer.  You’re quiet for a long beat, and Bob squirms under your attention, but then you tell him more and he swears he breaks out in a full-body blush.

“You’re gorgeous, really,” you tell him.  “It’s just that you have a sneakier handsomeness, you know?  Like, that one there—” You gesture broadly at Jake.  “—He’s, like, Ken-doll handsome.  Like, he catches your eye because it’s all symmetrical and stuff, and he’s fine, but symmetry can be boring and someone like you, it’s sneaky.  You have a nice face, and these nice blue eyes, and nice hair, and I bet people think about you after the fact like, ‘oh, that Bob guy, he’s not bad at all,’ and then even later it’s like, ‘oh, Bob, he’s pretty handsome.’  Because you’re that sneaky sort of handsome and that’s the worst damned kind.”

Bob isn’t entirely tracking what you mean, but he shakes his head at the unearned praise, and he can’t stop the smile that’s plastered on his face.  He probably looks like a dope.

“Why’s that the worst kind?” he asks.

“Because it’s deadly!”  You lean forward again, put your hand on his arm again.  “Sneaky-handsome guys are like a virus because by the time you realize they’ve infected you, it’s too late.”

Bob chuckles.  “I’m a virus?  Suddenly my night has gotten worse, somehow.”

“No, not at all.  It’s just…”  You trail off, polish off your drink.  You wave down Penny for another.  “It’s just that you sneaky-handsome types never understand the power you have.  Ken-doll over there knows he’s hot, and by the mere fact of him knowing he’s hot, he loses a considerable amount of hotness.  But you have no idea you’re handsome, and that makes you even hotter.”

“I think there’s a string of women in the San Diego area that would disagree with your assessment,” Bob replies.  “But I appreciate the compliment, nonetheless.”

“Oh, them.”  You flap a hand, a dismissive wave.  “There’s a lot of idiots in the world, Bob.  You can’t let a string of women in the San Diego area make you feel bad.”

“I guess I just need to find someone who isn’t an idiot.”

“Ah, well!”  You set your drink down and wave your hands in front of yourself in a ta-da sort of flourish.  “Cal Tech graduate, Bobby.  I work for NASA.”

He feels a warm flush at you calling him Bobby.  “You’re a rocket scientist?  Definitely not an idiot, then.”

“Astrobiologist, actually.  And only an idiot sometimes, but never when it comes to the sneaky-handsome men here at the Hard Deck.”

Bob shakes his head, a little embarrassed at how much he likes you, a drunk stranger, talking him up.  He tries to dial it back, afraid he’s going to fall in love before last call.

“You’re way too smart for me, then,” he tells you.

That makes you arch an eyebrow at him.  “You afraid of smart women, Bobby?”

“Not at all.  It’s just that smart, beautiful, and sweet?  Do you understand the power you have?”  He keeps his tone light, teasing, but he’s in over his head with this:  he’s definitely going to fall in love before last call.

Of course he is.  His question makes you laugh, a warm sound that knocks free the lump in his chest from his earlier failed date.  Your laughter makes him feel drunk even though he hasn’t touched a drop; he feels warm and light and big-headed at how kind you’ve been to him, how sweet, but your laughter is the sound that makes him fall in love with you.

-----

The two of you stay until last call.  Bagman and your friend disappear hours before then, and you shrug at Bob, say you called it all wrong, that you didn’t think Jake was your friend’s type.

Bob drives you home.  You’re unsteady on your feet, so he hovers near you, but you manage reasonably well until it’s time to unlock your door.  He watches you try it, then he reaches out and takes the keys from your hand.

It’s the first time he touches you.

He gets you inside.  He gets you to your bedroom, and you flop gracelessly across the mattress, and Bob immediately goes into caretaker mode.  He slides your shoes off of you, sets them in a neat row by your closet.  He makes his way to your kitchen, gets you a glass of water, then stops in the bathroom.  He rummages through your medicine cabinet—you use the same brand of toothpaste as he does, the same type of toothbrush, and Bob marvels at the strange intimacy of learning these things, the everyday things that not everyone is privy to about you.  He finds some ibuprofen and shakes two out, then takes them and the water back to you.

You’re already drifting off to sleep, and Bob has to cajole you into sitting up.  He gets you perched on the side of the bed and gives you the pills and water, which you take without complaints.  He takes the empty glass back from you, and then there’s a moment—

—you sit on the edge of your bed and Bob stands over you, and you look up at him with your bleary eyes and he sees fear.  You’re understanding what you’ve done, maybe:  you’ve invited a strange man back to your place and you’re drunk, and he could do anything, and Bob sees the flicker of uncertainty, the beginning of fear in your eyes.  It makes him feel sick because he’d never take advantage.  It makes him sick that the world, being what the world is, makes this fear lance through the whiskey fumes in your head.

He reaches down to the foot of your bed where there’s a blanket neatly folded.  He shakes it out, urges you to lie down, and when you do, he covers you up.

“Be sure to drink more water when you wake up,” he tells you softly. 

The nascent fear fades out of your expression, and it’s replaced by a loose, goofy grin.  You free a hand from under the blanket and give him a sloppy salute.  “Aye, aye, captain.”

Bob sees himself out but not before he’s struck with a bit of brave optimism.  He sees the little whiteboard by your refrigerator, and he writes out his name and his number.  He drives home and sends up a silent prayer that his sneaky-handsome virus has already infected you, charmed as he is by your earnestly drunken (albeit clunky) analogy from earlier in the evening.

He wakes up the next morning and feels less hopeful.  He queues up a playlist and sets out on his morning run, but his morning pessimism is misplaced:  you call him a mile into his run, and Bob stutters in his steps to hear your voice—a little rough, but sunny nonetheless.

“I’m looking for a guy named Bobby,” you tell him over the phone, and he can hear the smile in your voice.  “Lieutenant Blue Eyes.”

-----

The two of you make plans to meet up at the Hard Deck, but you don’t call it a date so Bob doesn’t either.  He’s in unfamiliar territory:  things have always been a date or not a date in the past, but he’s noticed that many of his Dagger teammates speak in looser terms—meeting up, hanging out—with potential partners.  He’s unsure how to handle it; if he seems too casual, you might miss his interest.  If he comes on too strong, he might scare you off.

He decides to just turn up in his uniform, as he usually does, and when he arrives at the Hard Deck, you are already there.  You’re perched in a bar stool and chatting to Penny, but when he strolls in, you see him.

You smile at him as he walks over to you, but then you shake your head in a mock-rueful way.

“Oh, no,” you say as you hop off of your stool.  You open your arms and Bob steps into them, and you hug him warmly like you’re old friends.  “I thought maybe it was just whiskey-goggles that night, but you really are cute.”

Bob chuckles.  He releases you, then takes the stool beside yours.  “Well, I’ve been downgraded.  You called me handsome that night,” he points out.

“Sneaky-handsome, actually.”

“There seems to be a whole spectrum here that I was never privy to.”

You wave down Penny who comes and takes your orders.  Once your drinks are in front of you—a hard cider for you, a shandy for Bob—you click your glass against his.

“Here’s to the sneaky-handsome men of the world,” you say.

Bob ducks his head and grins  “And to the rocket scientists,” he adds.

A date or not a date…the evening passes in a blink, and you leave Bob that night entirely sober after long conversations and a lot of easy laughter.  You pull him in for another hug before you part, and this hug lingers longer than the hug you gave him as a greeting.  When you pull away, though, you gaze at him with a somber expression.

“I wanted to thank you for the other night,” you tell him.  “For being a gentleman when you took me home.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”  Your hands on his upper arms squeeze him a little firmer.  “You could have taken advantage, and you didn’t.  You’re a good one, Bob.”

He shakes his head, tries to wave you off, but you squeeze him again.  You don’t let him shrug off your thanks.  You don’t let him downplay his goodness.

“You are a good man, Bob,” you repeat, and you stare at him, like you’re daring him to disagree. 

Bob, who finds that you’re something of a force to be reckoned with, wouldn’t dare to disagree.

-----

He’s still not entirely clear if this is dating or not.  Neither of you actually says the word.  You text each other steadily, and you meet up sometimes at the Hard Deck, but your schedule isn’t great and Bob’s is even worse.  He worries that he’s missed his chance.  When he talks about it to the other Daggers, Hangman rolls his eyes and tells Bob he should have taken his shot earlier, that Bob is pretty much friend-zoned now, but Nat rolls her eyes at that and says he’s overthinking it.

Of course Bob overthinks it.  Bob overthinks everything.

He doesn’t know yet that you overthink everything too.  That you are going through your own pangs of regret, that you think you’ve missed your chance too, that your friends circle around you too and give you tough-love pep talks to build up your courage to take the lead on this burgeoning thing with Bob.

And ultimately, Bob’s hunch that you’re a force to be reckoned with is correct.  In the end, you take charge.

-----

You end up inviting him over for dinner on a night when your schedules align, and Bob overthinks that too. 

What if it’s a date-date, and he turns up too casual, with nothing in his hands—no wine, no flowers?  Or the opposite—what if he dresses up a little, brings you a mixed bouquet, and it’s just a casual friends-type thing?

Bob has no idea how he can manage the systems on a sophisticated plane because his brain grinds to a painful halt the moment he starts to contemplate this dinner at your place.  It’s Nat—it’s always Nat, with her no-nonsense lens into the mystique of her fellow women—who smacks some sense into him.

“Wear a nice shirt, shower beforehand, and take a bottle of wine,” she tells him.

“But what if—”

“It’s always polite to take a gift, Bob.”  She rolls her eyes, heaves a sigh.  “And it’s always polite to, you know.  Shower.  Show up fresh-smelling and neat.  Jesus Christ.  Just go.”

So Bob turns up at your apartment, a mid-tier bottle of wine in his sweaty hand.  Freshly showered, a daub of cologne behind his ears, and a nice blue button-down that brings out his eyes. 

And it’s a good thing he took Nat’s advice too, because you open the door in the sweetest sundress, and there’s music softly playing and the most heavenly smells wafting from your kitchen.  Bob realizes all at once that it’s a date-date after all, and his heart does an alarming little stutter in his chest, enough to stun him until you take his hand and gently pull him inside.

-----

Part of Bob’s issue with women is his inability to pick up on subtle, sometimes invisible cues.  He has always fallen in with the sort of women who play mind games, who play coy and say one thing while meaning another.  He always feels back on his heels; it feels like women speak a language he’s only slightly fluent in, so he’s always playing catch-up to translate what they mean.

But it’s refreshing with you, in this moment, because as you both sit down to the feast you’ve prepared, you just talk with him.  The two of you chat about your lives, you catch each other up since the last time you’ve talked, and Bob almost forgets to be nervous.

Almost.  A pair of tapered candles flicker between you and cast your lovely face in a golden glow, and low, bluesy music sets the soundtrack as you eat.  You sip at the wine he brought, and he eats your home-cooking, and Bob imagines an entire life like this…and he almost misses the way you keep swiping your palms along your thighs, like you’re nervous.

Almost.  He leans into his WSO work, studies you closely like you’re a dashboard of lights and alarms and switches.  He watches you a little closer, and he sees the way your throat bobs when you swallow a mouthful of wine, like you’re swallowing past a lump or going all dry-mouthed on him.  He sees the deep breaths you take, the way you press the back of your hand to your neck, like you’re flushed and trying to calm yourself.

“You’re nervous,” he blurts out when he realizes it for sure, and you pause in where you’re lifting the wine glass to your mouth and stare at him.

“I am.”  It’s that simple.  No mind games, no coy pretending. 

“It’s just me,” Bob says.

You smile at him, and it trembles a little at the corners.  He can feel the nerves in you now, and he reaches out a hand across the table, palm up.  He makes a grabby motion with it until your smile firms up and you lay your hand in his, and he grasps you lightly.

“It’s just me,” he repeats.

“And I like just-you,” you tell him.  “Like-like, I mean.  I wanted to tell you so tonight.”

His heart does that wicked little stutter in his chest, but he squeezes your hand.  “Sounds like you just told me then.”

“Guess so.”  You watch him, and your smile seems tremulous again, so Bob replies, “I like you too.”

It’s that simple.  After you each put yourself through your own overthinking hell, each suffering through your own sleepless nights and needless worrying about dumb things like friend zones, it comes down to a moment so simple that it’s stupid:  just the two of you holding hands as you confess your mutual feelings matter-of-factly.

-----

It feels too easy.  After months (years) of struggling to even land the occasional first date, suddenly Bob’s dream girl turns up just like that.  It feels too easy, and so Bob slips into his overthinking almost immediately.

It goes fine after dinner, when the two of you trade nervous kisses on your couch until the nerves burn off enough that your mouth slotted over his feels natural, that you move in concert with each other—your head tilting one way, his tilting the other, no longer bumping noses or knocking his glasses askew. 

It goes fine as you climb into his lap, the solid weight of you a welcome sensation because Bob’s head feels like it’s filled with helium, drunk and fizzy from the feel of your lips against his, your tongue against his own.

It goes fine when you climb off of him, shaky-legged like a newborn foal.  When you hold out your hand and take his to lead him back to your bedroom.

The moment he finds himself stripped down to his boxers and lying on your bed is the moment it falls apart.

It’s like every mean comment, every brush-off and ghosting, every roll of the eyes and beleaguered sigh and overheard commentary about him crowds into the room and leaves no space for this moment with you.  Bob thinks of all the feedback he’s ever gotten on dates—the serial killer eye glasses, the lack of muscles, the lack of game.  He tries to take a deep breath and finds he can barely pull in a lungful, and his throat feels like it’s closing on him—

And he can’t get hard.  His near-erection from making out on the couch deflates, and even though you are perched over him—you’ve shed your sundress, and you’re in the sexiest, sweetest lingerie set, powder pink, like the underside of a cloud at sunrise—he cannot coax himself back to attention.

The panic that floods him—he recognizes the feeling.  He’s felt it a million times.  He feels the hot, splotchy redness as it breaks out across his chest and neck, and his face flushes furiously bright, and you notice it all in real time.  The sultry, heavy-lidded look on your face disappears and is replaced by pure concern.

“Bob?  Bobby?  Are you…okay?”  You reach a hand out and cup his face, and your palm had felt warm earlier but now it feels cool….which proves how hot he’s flushed, how feverish his panic makes him feel.

“I’m sorry.  Shit, honey.  I’m…I gotta go.”  He tries to sit up but your mattress is soft and he flails a moment, and if Bob were just a bit younger he’d burst into tears at how sideways this has all gone so suddenly.  You served him up the perfect evening, you’re kneeling right beside him in the hottest fucking lingerie, and he’s been reduced to a stuttering, red-face idiot who can’t even get hard—

“Hey.”  You lay your hand on his bare chest, steady him.  “Hey, hey, hey.  Take a second.  Just breathe, Bobby.”

“I gotta—”

“Just relax.”  You press against his chest, tap your forefinger against his skin.  “Breathe for me, okay?  Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not.  Fuck, it’s not!”  He raises his voice, winces at how shrill he sounds, and the dam in him breaks.  Something in him dislodges, and it all spills out:  every mean, rotten thing he’s ever thought about himself.  Every bit of unfair criticism, every insult and slight and how his own insecurity has twisted it all into a crippling imposter syndrome.  How he only ever feels competent at his job but how he struggles with everything else, and now how he’s fucked it all up with you because he’s overthinking, always trapped in the own tangled maze of his mind, always waiting for the other shoe to drop because he’s not good enough, he can’t even get hard even with you looking like a dream—

“Hey.  Whoa.”  You remove your hand from his chest, but you scoot over to sit beside him, turned to face him, your expression very similar to the night he met you—the same easy smile, the same studious eyes.

“Nothing’s ruined.  You haven’t fucked anything up.  Take a breath.  Is this because of that bad first date you had the night we met?”

He nods.  “A little bit.”

“There’s been other bad first dates, I guess?”

Another nod.

“And now you’re worried this is just another bad first date?”

“Yeah.”  It comes out a croak, a roughness in his throat. 

“Hmm.”  You lean forward, press a soft kiss to his forehead.  “You wanna hear about my worst first date ever?”

“No, honey, it’s okay—”

“His name was Justin.”  Another soft kiss, this one to his temple.  “Good job, good looking.”  Another kiss, to the other temple, right at his hairline.  “Picked me up and gave me flowers, took me out to San Diego’s most exclusive restaurant that has a reservation list a mile long.”

Bob chuckles weakly.  “Sounds awful,” he says, wry.

You hum again, kiss his flushed cheek.  “He was charming at dinner.”  A kiss on his other cheek.  “Said all the right things.  Asked about my life and listened to my answers.”  The lightest of kisses on the tip of his nose, and it makes him smile despite himself. 

“Halfway through dessert, a woman comes up to our table.”  Bob feels the gentle press of your lips at the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to kiss you back, but you pull away. 

“It was Justin’s wife.”  A flurry of kisses now, to his chin, along his jawline, near his ear. 

“He was cheating,” Bob says.

“Nope.”  A kiss, this one lingering, under his jaw, on his neck.  “Turns out, this was a little game he and his wife play.  Some weird cheating, cuckolding fantasy.”  Your lips skate over his pulse point.  “He takes a girl out, his wife pretends to catch them, and then they go to a nearby hotel to fuck each other senseless.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit is right.”  You lift your head to gaze at him.  “Asshole left me with the bill for dinner too.  So Bobby….you’re not my worst first date.  You’re not even close.”

“Honey—”

“You have no idea how hard you’re gonna have to work to really, honestly fuck this up.”  You grin at him, and then you straddle his lap again, and he lays his hands on your hips and stares up at you.

“Because you’re, like, exactly the sort of man I’ve always been looking for.  You’re that sneaky-handsome sort, and you’re smart and sweet, and you took care of me that first night when I was too drunk to make good choices.”  You cup his face in your hands, and you stare at him hard, that sweet forcefulness on full display, like you dare him to disagree with you.

“It’s already a sure thing, Bobby.”  You lean forward, kiss him gently.  “There’s no pressure to do anything tonight.  Don’t even think about needing to do anything.  How about you just let me love on you, and you just relax, and if you can keep your secret wife from busting in and turning this into a cuckolding fantasy, we’ll end the night just fine, okay?”

That makes him laugh, and it breaks the spell of his terrible ruminating.  Bob laughs, and he slides his hands from your hips up to your waist to feel your soft skin.

“I didn’t even think of getting a secret wife before I came here,” he confesses.

“See?  It’s a sure thing, then.”  You lean forward again, whisper in his ear, your warm breath making him break out in goosebumps as you tell him to just relax and let you love on him.

-----

The antidote to Bob’s awful overthinking, as it turns out, is your care and praise.

As far as first dates go, this is the one where Bob learns something new about his own sexuality.  He learns, thanks to you, that he has a praise kink, because your hands and mouth and body on his feels amazing, but it’s your words that make him hard.

Loving on him means you touch him everywhere.  You kiss him everywhere.  You stroke him, press your soft lips to him, lick against parts of him until he feels like he’s on fire in a way that is completely different than his panic attack.  You kiss every inch of his face and neck.  You trail your mouth over his shoulders and collarbones, across every bit of his chest and belly, and you praise him whenever your mouth isn’t otherwise occupied.

Look at you, Bobby.  Hiding this body away under that uniform.

You praise his arms, the muscles of his chest and abs.  You praise his shoulders and back, the smattering of chest hair, the trail of hair that leads down and disappears under the waistband of his boxers, and you glance up at him, the question in your eyes as you toy with the elastic.

“Can I?” you ask, and Bob nods, swallows hard, and you go lower, you push his boxers down and his cock is there, hard from your honied words.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out.  “Bob, are you for real with this?”

It probably seems like a cliché, like the pretty girl in a movie who somehow never realized she was pretty, but Bob has never really considered his size.  He’s been around plenty of other penises through the course of his career, but he’s never exactly eyed up other men and measured himself against them.  The handful of women he’s slept with never said anything so he assumed he was average, but you praise him here too—you tell him he has a beautiful cock, and Bob blushes at the compliment.  He’d never call it beautiful, but when you wrap your palm around his shaft and grip him gently, he’d agree to any adjective you might offer, so long as you never let him go.

This feels too easy too, but the panic never claws at Bob’s throat again.  You’ve chosen him, you’ve made it a sure thing for him, and you’ve cut through his awkward moment of near-flight to get him to this:  your body stretched alongside his, your breasts pressed against his arm, your hand working against his cock while you whisper praise in his ear. 

And every time doubt starts to creep in—he should be touching you too, he should be making you feel good too—you hush him, you still his mouth by kissing him, and you tell him that he has all the time in the world for touching you, but he should let you take care of him now.

His orgasm creeps up in fits and starts, and it seems to ratchet closer with each bit of praise you lavish on him, more so than each movement of your hand working against his cock.

“I want you to come for me, Bobby,” you whisper against his neck.  You kiss his pulse point, a plush, open-mouth kiss that makes him shiver as you grip him tighter, work a faster rhythm with your hand.  “Come for me like a good boy.”

He wants to be good for you; he wants to do as you say.  Some not-so-small part of him craves your approval, and maybe the two of you will play around with that sort of dynamic in the future, but for now, he just wants to obey you.  He wants to do his part to salvage the night he thinks he almost ruined, so he breathes in time to your strokes, focuses on every sensation—the softness of your breasts pressed against him, your wet, hot mouth kissing him, the light scent of your perfume.  The tension in his belly is a coil, and it tightens and tightens until it snaps, and his hips stutter against your grasping hand.  He gasps out your name, warns you, and then a beat later, he comes.  He spills over your hand, thick ropes of cum coating your fingers and wrist, spilling over onto his belly.

“Just like that, baby.”  You kiss his panting mouth, and he feels the curve of your lips as you give a pleased smile.  “It’s that simple.”

[pianokantzart]

YES! GOOD! I’m going to just going to analyze the whole dinner scene, because it’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. 

Mario and Luigi walk in, and immediately the whole room lights up to greet them. Despite everything that follows, one thing is clear: The Mario Brothers are happy to see their family, and the family is happy to see them. 

The whole family confirms that they watched their commercial. Everyone except their mom insists the commercial was a bad idea, but the fact that they all watched it speaks to the fact that there is no indifference regarding Mario and Luigi’s dream. They’re eager to see where this endeavor leads, even if they think it’s going to end in failure. 

The moment Mario and Luigi sit down at the table, their uncles begin laying into them like it’s open season on financially struggling plumbers. Just full blown, no-holds-barred roast mode on their nephews.

Mario is on the defensive, but he doesn’t get angry, he’s just trying to argue his side. Clearly this is typical behavior for Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur. They’re loud, overly honest, and obnoxiously confident in their opinions. Uncle Arthur, thankfully, has his wife to keep him in check. Uncle Tony, however, who is seated next to poor Luigi, is an absolute menace.

Luigi ignores all the teasing. He is only interested in getting food, but this is not an easy task. Tony’s verbal arguments are all directed at Mario, but Luigi is the one who gets prodded and shoved around, and that makes getting dinner next to impossible.

Luigi attempts to serve himself salad, attempts to ask for a roll, attempts to eat the mushrooms being put on his plate, and at every turn he’s either pushed away or talked over. He is clearly very soft spoken compared to the other men in his family, and never quite had the strength to stand up for himself... after all, everyone means well, they just lack self awareness. It isn’t worth the fight. 

Thankfully, Luigi’s mom comes to the rescue, and puts a bowl of soup in front of her boy. She’s the queen of the caretaker role, making sure all the loose ends are tied up and that everybody eats.

But on the flip side, it’s interesting to note that once the uncles start tearing into Mario, Mario’s Dad serves him up a plate of food. He may have just been serving the person next to him because that was the polite thing to do, but I have a theory...

I think that this wasn’t the first night that Mario and his uncles went at each other. I think Mario’s Dad read the room, and figured that if Mario was going to spend dinner playing defense, he should at least remember to eat while doing so.

It also speaks volumes that Mario’s Dad doesn’t voice his disapproval until Mario asks for his opinion. Before then he avoids the subject and lets everyone else do the talking, but so long as he’s being questioned directly, he can’t help but be honest.

“I think... you’re nuts. You don’t quit a steady job for some crazy dream.” This sounds like a voice of experience. Mario’s Dad has the figure of someone who has worked physical labor for a good portion of his life (look the size of those arms). He may have had dreams of his own when he was younger, but he had a wife and kids to worry about, and family took priority. 

Speaking of family taking priority: “... and the worst part? You’re bringing your brother down with you.” That settles it. The conversation has gone from a casual roast session to dead serious. The entire room falls quiet as Mario puts down his fork and storms off. 

“What’d I say?” Everybody at the table (except the niece, she’s long since checked out) gives Mario’s Dad different versions of the look™. Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur have the same “Jesus Christ bro, you didn’t have to go there” expression, and Luigi just looks hurt on Mario’s behalf. His Dad, however, is just confused.  

He didn’t get the gravity of what he said. His relationship with his own brothers– loudmouthed schmucks who call their own shots – is completely alien to what Luigi and Mario have. He probably knows Mario is protective of Luigi, but he doesn’t realize the depth of responsibility Mario feels for him. Anyone can see that Luigi is loyal to his brother, but Mario alone knows how loyal he is, and the implication that he’s betraying that loyalty is intensely painful. 

I doubt Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tony truly relate to Mario and Luigi’s relationship either, but they’ve probably teased Mario enough to understand one thing: bringing Luigi into it is a line you do not cross.

Conclusion:

There is a lot of love in the Mario family.

Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur are definitely the most insufferable of the bunch, but there is no malice in their teasing. While they are brash and overbearing, it’s all in good fun, and they get visibly uncomfortable when things go too far and someone actually ends up hurt. 

Luigi seems to take after his mother; kind, nonconfrontational, and happily invested in a supporting role. While his Mom cares for and assists the family, Luigi cares for and assists his brother, both emotionally and in his business ventures.

Mario, in the meantime, takes after his Dad, who appears to be the oldest of the three brothers. He doesn’t always think before speaking, but he isn’t constantly running his mouth like Arthur or Tony, and acts with the gravity of someone who bears a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t quite “get” his sons, but he knows enough to see that Luigi follows his brother everywhere, and Mario does not always think before jumping into things. Despite what Mario may believe, his Dad doesn’t see him as a “joke” so much as he sees him as an impulsive young man who doesn’t grasp the consequences of his actions. But Mario does understand the consequences of his actions, he just dreams big, and... thanks to Luigi... actually has the support he needs to pursue those dreams. 

[hoesformatt]

STUCK WITH YOU

warnings: smut like thats it

contains: masturbation, oral, fingering, the use of ‘mamas’

not proofread

“Fuck” Matt shook head clenching his jaw then moving the car to a park at the side of road as I got out the car for a bathroom break.

He sat alone in the car checking his phone for directions but not having any luck with no bars.

“Shit, we’re fucking lost” he placed his hand on his forehead rubbing it a bit until I came back to take my seat in the passengers seat.

He accidentally took the wrong exit and I didn’t notice until almost half and hour after when the car didn’t start when we took a pit stop. All Matt is doing is stressing himself out, I just decided to stay outside see the mountains but not even 30 seconds from being there my body was freezing so I stepped back in the car.

“Damn, it’s chilly as fuck out there. Now my nipples are up” I laughed bit as Matt looked at me with a exhausted expression on his face.

“What?”

“I said it’s so fucking cold it made my nipples go hard”

He looked down my shirt then caught Matt staring at my nipples and slowly licking his lip at the sight.

“You should go out there man it’s freezing” I said to break the silence and I was going to go back out to check what’s up with the engine.

Matt

She closed the passenger door approaching the front and lifted up the hood of the car and I just had to get my mind off the the thought of getting us lost in the middle of god knows where, the thing was the only thing other than getting lost that was on my mind was her hard nipples against her white crop top and I was just getting hard at the thought.

I created a tent in my pants, my dick throbbing and growing harder by the second. I put my hand on my crotch slowly palming it making me wince and suck in air between my lips.

“Fuck it” if I have two problems I might as well just fix one. I untied the knot on my grey sweatpants taking them off letting them fall to my ankles.

Pre-cum was already leaking from my tip, so I just spread it across my dick for lubrication and I was working down on my cock stroking it at a slow pace to tease himself breathy moan escaping my lips.

I couldn’t stop picturing my hard cock in-between her warm tits thrusting in them and as the picture got more vivid the faster I pumped at my length.

“Oh fuck” I whimpered as my head being thrown back and my eyes rolling and my loud groans were all I hear in the car.

“Hey Matt I got som—”

You

I paused seeing his actions and the face he had on when he was pleasuring himself.

He also froze when he saw me entering the car; it wasn’t the least of my problems and I kind of wanted to help him out, so I wasn’t going to waste time.

I removed his hand from hard dick placing my tongue on it put licking on his tip before he pushed my head toward the end of his shaft.

I choked on his inches struggling to suck on most of length, he looked down at me with his cock all stuffed in my mouth.

“You look so cute with my cock in you’re mouth”

He held my curls pressing me down on his cock taking it all in watching with his mouth in a ‘o’ gasping for air.

“Just like that mama, you’re so fucking good” his praise just got me wet, I held the rest of his inches I couldn’t take in my mouth.

“I’m gonna cum” He held my head as his legs began shaking and his lips parted for petty whimpers to escape his mouth while his liquid came all in my mouth.

“Let me make you good baby”, I sat up with ass in the air and my abdomen on the dashboard taking off my pants and my thong being removed from covering my pussy.

He took it lowering it to my knees and he caresses his fingers on my pussy and circling around my clit hitting my nice spots.

He took his two finger inserting them fully as I gasped loudly because of how long and how deep his fingers were in me.

“Matt— Oh my fuck” loud moan and whimpers came out my lips and my eyes rolled back and made my back arch violently.

“Fuck i’m gonna cum—” He fastened his pace quite literally fucking my pussy with his fingers. My legs began to tremble uncontrollably as my cum coated his fingers with the white warm sticky liquid.

“Fuck. The seats”

[klausysworld]

Your stories are so good!

How about a story where Klaus gets in over his head and ends up being taken captive by Augustine but falls in love with one of the scientist over the time he’s there.

(Made it the scientists daughter, not sure why? I think I read the ask wrong and then just got too deep with it. I can make another one if this wasn’t what was wanted)

(TW:This does include physical and psychological abuse form Y/n’s father! Please don’t read if this will be too upsetting for you and know that you are not alone.)

Betrayal

Klaus often went into dangerous situations without much of a plan, he was immortal and he used that to his every advantage. To be fair to him, this always worked in his favour except for that one time with the hunters curse but other than that it was fine.

Until now.

He woke with a groan, his eyes felt heavy and his body was stiff. Forcefully, he forced himself to look around but his face was against the ground. With a grunt, he managed to roll onto his back. His breathing was struggled and released in puffs. A hum reached his ears and he turned his head slowly to see a man, no a vampire sat in a cage or a prison cell opposite him.

The guys clothes were filthy, bloody and muddy. Hair greasy and growing a touch long. He gave an unserious wave "congratulations, you've been captured" he cheered sarcastically and Klaus frowned. The vampire rolled his eyes "¿no hablas inglés?" he questioned "français? Italiano? Polski?" he fired, clearly bored.

"Where-" Klaus frowned at the dryness of his throat and tried to clear his throat but it caused a painful sensation "Where am I?" he asked, raspily.

"English" the man stated, nodding to himself. "Right uh you are in an experiment where they do fun little tests on us vampires because they have an undying hatred towards us" the man explained, laughing tiredly to himself when he said 'undying'.

Klaus stared at the man like he were mad. "Tests? What sort of tests?" he questioned, frustrated and the vampire shut up. He glanced behind Klaus before back to him nervously

"They're trying to make a serum to make vampires have the uncontrollable urge to feed on other vampires...to rip their heads clean off. Be stronger, unstoppable and filled with hatred for our own" he explained quietly as though someone may be listening. Klaus frowned in response and slowly dragged himself up into a sitting position against the cold wall of his cell.

Vampires who rippered other vampires? It reminded him of his father and he didn't exactly want to think of him. Nor did he want to feel this week, how much vervain had they pumped him full of? He groaned loudly and the other man hummed in agreement.

The sound of a lock went and the vampire opposite Klaus quickly got to his feet, holding onto the bars like a desperate animal.

The soft clicking of heels sounded and the mans face immediately relaxed slightly, his eyes looking eagerly for whoever was coming. Klaus was hit with a strong scent of vanilla before a soft sigh was heard and he could see the back of a women. Her hair hiding her shoulders and the top half of her lab coat. She wore small black heels and a coat.

"You okay?" she asked the guy opposite him, handing him something, blood. He could smell it and he needed it. The vampire scoffed it down immediately with a sound of pleasure.

"mm thank you darling...I don't suppose you have another for me?" he purred but she shook he head

"It's for the new one" she whispered and Klaus's senses perked. She proceeded to turn towards him and her eyes looked him over. Klaus let out a breathy laugh, this was who was supposed to be testing and torturing him? He raised both his brows and licked his chapped lips before pulling them into a smirk. In response she only rolled her eyes "those eyes won't work on many people here" she told him, she placed the paper shot glass of blood onto the floor and carefully pushed it into his cage. "You'll be known by 52836, answer to it or they’ll burn it into you so you remember it" she informed, watching him reach forward and grabbing the drink.

"This is all I get?" he questioned, his nose scrunched and his browed pulled together.

"One a day. None if you misbehave. You'll feel better tomorrow when you have less vervain in your system, until then keep quiet. 12144 will be here with you...get comfortable" she murmured, a certain sadness and level of pity in her eyes as she gave a tight lipped smile to both vampires before leaving.

12144 looked back to Klaus, "You can call me Enzo, she's called Y/n. One of the mean ones daughters, been coming down here since she was small. She doesn't mean much harm but she's too scared to go against the rules" he explained with a shrug "Sometimes she sneaks me two portions if she can. She touched me once, just a hand on the shoulder. I was far too weak to respond but I knew she was there"

Klaus stared at Enzo for a moment before glancing to his now empty cup. What the fuck did he just get himself into?

It was the question he asked himself every morning and every night. To start off with he fought back against the scientists, yelled and screamed demanding to know who they thought they were, making empty threats and hoping his family would find him.

Klaus began to feel a little pathetic, he was hoping? That wasn’t like him. He was strategic and powerful. So he tried to pay better attention. After a few weeks, he was able to understand why Y/n was so obedient. Her father was dreadful. She once suggested that Klaus needed a break after watching blood poor out of his eyes, her father proceeded to grab her and threaten to stick one of the syringes in her neck. She sprinted out the room as soon as she was let go and Klaus couldn’t blame her. It made him think of Mikael and how he would hold a sword against his throat.

He had sympathy for her, empathy too but unfortunately he had to push that aside and instead of help her, he would manipulate her.

He would ask her about the little marks on her skin knowing it was a result of her trying to help him. Enzo would shake his head and occasionally speak up, telling Klaus to leave her be when her discomfort became clear.

“I don’t mean to upset you sweetheart” Klaus murmured, his hand reaching between the bars to brush against her arm making her flinch and pull away. “You don’t deserve to be hurt. I know that, Enz- 12144, knows it too. You’re good and sweet” he told her, his hand reaching to touch her but she wouldn’t let him. “I could help you” he whispered, his eyes flicking to Enzo’s but he just looked annoyed.

Y/n shook her head and left quickly and Enzo sighed. “You shouldn’t do that to her” he mumbled “you’re only making her hopeful”

“I haven’t lied. If she were to let me out then I’d happily slaughter that father of hers. Then she’d be safe” he smile sarcastically

“I wouldn’t let you kill her too. She hasn’t done anything cruel since the first day I met her” Enzo muttered solemnly

“I don’t plan on killing her” Klaus stated simply as he looked down at the extra cup of blood she had given him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do to her but he wouldn’t kill her, scare her maybe but he didn’t really want to kill her.

The two vampires sat back down in their cells. Preparing themselves for the torture to come. Occasionally it wouldn’t come, instead they would hear the sobs of a fear stricken Y/n as she begged the ‘scientists’ to give 12144 and 52836 a day off. It was those moments that made him soften for her.

When she would come down to where they stay with trembling hands and cups of blood.

As she handed the small offering to Klaus, he slid his hand out to grab her wrist gently. She immediately flinched and dropped the blood making her breathing escalate in panic.

“It’s alright” he soothed, pulling her closer to the bars so he could put his other hand on her cheek.

“I’m sorry” she whimpered “I’ll get more”

“It doesn’t matter sweetheart” he murmured, caressing her face gently and wiping the tears away. “I had two cups yesterday anyway” he reminded and she sniffed with a nod. “Come here love, let me hold you” he whispered, tugging her closer despite the shaking of her head a the cry that left her lips. Enzo watched with furrowed brows as Klaus managed to wrap his arms around her. Y/n’s body was pressed against the bars, still shaking as the vampire caressed her back slowly. Klaus looked over her shoulder to Enzo as Y/n melted against him. With hesitancy Enzo nodded and relaxed.

After nearly a full minute, he let her go and watched as her tearful eyes looked at his. Silently she turned around and left, whispering softly to Enzo on her way out.

Said vampire narrowed his eyes at Klaus “What game are you playing with her?” He asked lowly

“We need to get out. She needs to get out. This is how we do it” he mumbles

“Make her trust you and then use her? Like that will help her. You’ll only hurt her more” he sighed and Klaus rolled his eyes, sitting back down on the dirtied floors and shutting his eyes.

Y/n tried not to look him in the eye after that and she went back to pushing the cup of blood towards him instead of handing it to him. He could tell and Enzo could tell that something deeper was wrong. And it was only when it actually happened did they understand what.

It was Klaus’s turn to be shackled down and tested on. What he wasn’t ready for was when one of the scientists came in dragging Y/n by the wrist. He forced her infront of Klaus and shoved a syringe into her hands. She shook her head and begged no but as soon as her father stepped into the room she knew she had to do it. With one devastating look to Klaus, she injected him with the substance.

They made her test his blood and his reactions all afternoon, claiming that it was a good learning opportunity and she should finally get involved in the family business.

By the time she was finished, Klaus couldn’t see nor hear, he was certain for a moment that he was finally dead but eventually he woke a few hours later back in his cell.

After that, Y/n rarely brought them blood, she couldn’t face them. And when she had to face them, it was because she had to hurt them and that was even worse for everyone.

Neither vampire blamed her, they didn’t fight her when she would touch them. They would simply let it happen and internalise as much of their pain as possible so she wouldn’t cry as much.

Occasionally the other scientists would leave and she would immediately try stop their suffering. Asking what she could do. Enzo assure her that it was fine and she would hold his hand for a small while and feed him some water. Klaus would ask her to distract him which always confused her and ended up in a splurge of rambling so that he would be able to focus on something else. The amount of random stories that girl had told him wonder if she was just making them up on the spot but he didn’t mind if she was. Often she would caress his hand or shoulder as she spoke to try and give a sense of comfort.

One day, when Klaus was supposed to still be knocked out, she was in his cell with him. She had been told to clean the blood from the floor so that it wouldn’t smell and not to worry about 52836 because he wouldn’t wake for another hour. They underestimated his strength and the fact that Y/n would try sneak extra blood.

When he woke, his eyes slowly found her. She was down on her knees, scrubbing at the ground with a sponge quickly. It was clear she was on edge. She made it clear when she glanced over to him a few times. Only one of those times did she realise he was looking back at her and when it hit her she froze.

Klaus made sure not to move either, he wasn’t sure if the cage was open or not and he didn’t know if she would scream if he moved too quickly. He watched as she slowly began to stand up, he hesitantly moved his arm out and let his hand touch her ankle. A sound left her mouth as she went still again and watched him wrap his hand around her. “Can you help me sit up?” He asked quietly and reluctantly she nodded.

He let go of her and helped push himself up as much as he could while she supported the majority of his weight. She whispered her apologies as she managed to get him up and leaning against the wall.

“Thank you sweetheart” he whispered, his hand finding hers. She swallowed thickly but held his hand and sat beside him staring at the ground blankly.

Enzo was in the other room, being tested on as usual so Klaus had her to himself for a moment.

His eyes flicked to the lock of the cell, it was open and he knew that if he drained Y/n now that he would make it out. He felt her shuffle a little close to that she could transfer some of her body heat to his, and sighed to himself. Slowly he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “You’re not like them” he whispered, holding her closer.

“I don’t want to hurt you” she whispered sadly and he closed his eyes, cursing himself silently.

“I don’t want to hurt you either” he uttered “I’m sorry” he told her, just before lowering his head and sinking his teeth into her neck. He squeezed his eyes shut to try block out her cry of pain and confusion. Her blood burned down his throat with the vervain she’d ingested but regardless of the toxic herb, he could still feel his strength returning. Her hands desperately tried to push him off, sobs echoing through his cell as he drank. Klaus tried to be a gentle as he could but her squirming made it so difficult.

When her heart began to slow, and her her breathing quietened, he pulled his mouth off. She looked up at him with a look that could only be described as betrayal and fear. Still, he picked her up in his arms and kissed her head “it’ll be okay my love” he whispered, carrying her with him as he pushed the cell gate open. “I’ll be back” he promised, putting her on the ground, ignoring her cries as he went into the torture room.

After draining the three scientists in the room and tearing the shackles off of Enzo, he came back and picked up Y/n. Enzo was furious and took her straight off of Klaus, promising her that he had no idea this was what would happen.

The three of them managed to escape the building and Klaus broke into a random car, beckoning Enzo with Y/n into the back as he managed to get it started.

He glanced in the rear view mirror as Enzo stroked Y/n’s hair while she shook and cried and asked if her father was still alive.

Klaus’s eyes met Enzo’s in the mirror as he stepped on the gas. Neither had any idea what to do now.

[iqzo]

PLAYA

(black!readerxshyarmin, strangers to fuck buddies, college party, reader’s a known player, virginity lost, blowjob, guidance)

“she’s a player, dude. i wouldn’t recommend.”

his brunette friend comments when he noticed the girl his shy socially awkward friend was eyeing in the distance, armin’s head snapped at him. “she’s a player?” almost in disbelief at the fact that a beautiful girl like you who seems so innocent in the face could be a player. “yep,” eren says adding emphasis on the p. he brings his red cup to his lips, drinking his liquor. “b-but she doesn’t look like one.” eren chortles, “looks can be deceiving, min.” armin nods his head softly, his eyes still lingering over the skimpy black outfit you wore. it was so tight on your body, displaying that shape which had every man ogling you.

from every corner of the room armin could notice men licking their lips, a smirk pressing against them watching as you talked to your friend. he wanted to have the courage to walk up to you, but armin knows a girl like you won’t go for a guy like him. the nerdy boy, a nobody, the introvert friend of a popular extrovert person. the homebody. the guy who shrieks at his favorite anime mini figurine coming back in stock after being out of it for a while now.

you don’t seem like the type to date a boy like that. not at all, your eyes rolled denying another advantage to this guy who walked up to you, sasha eyes you confusingly, “woah. you okay?” you peered at sasha answering her question with a simple nod, “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” you asked as you took a seat by the bar. “because that’s your what…—“ she began counting on her fingers listing every guy you denied, “—4,5,6th! six boys. six hot boys, and you denied them all.” you rolled your eyes.

“my roster is filled with the same ol’ same ol. i need some …spice, yk.” sasha hummed agreeably, “i understand. so why don’t you try blonde who’s been eyeing you ever since you got in here,” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “blonde?” you repeated softly tone laced with dubiety. sasha hand quickly pointed out the boy, armin’s eyes go wide he quickly ran around the island counter. eren eyed him confusingly as he watched him hide, “boy what the fuck is you doing?” he questioned pushing his body off the island from leaning on it, he ambled around stopping to see armin with his knees to his chest hiding.

“h-her friend saw me eyeing her, what if she thinks im’a a weirdo? a creep?!” he panicked. face flushed with embarrassment, eren’s emerald eyes glanced up seeing you walk into his direction with a smirk. “nah, ion think so.” armin peeked through the cracks of his finger, staring up at his friend. “what makes you say that?” eren chuckled, taking his finale sip before answering.

“because she’s heading our way right now.”

armin’s heart dropped to his ass, firmly planted his feet on the ground. seeing black dots clouding his vision due to how fast he stood to his feet. “hey eren,” you smirked waving your fingers at the brunette, “sup,” he sends a head nod stepping out of the way to allow you to greet his friend.

“and you must be?” you asked your freshly done hands on the counter as you stared up at the blonde whose face was quickly turned red by you being only a few inches away from him.

“i—i-i’m a-armin.” eren shakes his head watching it all go down, “hmm~ that’s a nice name.” you grinned propping yourself on your arm, your head tilts slightly as a smirk slowly lines your lips. “i heard you’ve been ogling me ever since i stepped into the party, armin.” god hearing how smooth his name rolled out your mouth made his pants tighten, “shit, i-i’m sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable.” eren steps out of the kitchen leaving you with him, you chuckled lowly, he’s so adorable. the way his frames were slowly sliding off his face, his ocean doe eyes struggling to hold eye contact. flimsy veiny hands playing with the hem of his wool sweater, his blonde locs framing his face perfectly, it was messy but it a neat way.

“oh , i wasn’t uncomfortable.” you spoke with a soft tone, “o-oh you weren’t?” he asked through a chuckle finally his eyes lands onto yours, “that’s good.” he smiled softly as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “i just wanna know….what was going through your head when you saw me,” he stood there with open widen eyes, his mouth jolting like he was trying to form a sentence but nothing was working, his brain completely stopped once he heard that comment.

it was something very inappropriate, vile, disgusting, he couldn’t even say it. you noticed his quietness, you licked your lips slowly, “you wanna show me?” everything was happening altogether, it was too much for armin to handle.

it’s his first time being out and now he’s getting his dick sucked in the guest room, by the school’s player! he couldn’t even keep his eyes open you were sucking him oh so hard, his glasses foggy and messily rests on his face. you’d fumble with his balls, massaging and squeezing them in your hold. as your lip and tongue went to work on his 7 inch girthy cock that had a vein running along the side, pulsating. “w—wait! ahh fuck~” he moans out. you slowly started to swallow him whole, your nose pressed up against his blonde pubes, armin’s never felt this type of pressure before.

he has been sucked off only once, and it was trash.it was so trash that armin never wanted that to happen to him ever again, but when you fell down to your knees and went to work…god it made him second guess that decision.

“i—i’mm, fuck, m’cum” saliva and pre cum coated his dick as some drips from the corner of your mouth painting the floor you kneeled on. you slide your mouth off his cock with a ‘pop’ swallowing the precum he left inside before speaking, “you gonna cum baby?? hmm~?” he nods his head frantically, you began to stroke his cock faster than before. “cmon, baby, cum, where you wanna cum hm? on my face or these tits you were staring at” armin eyes squeezed shut, as his hips rises up fucking your fist.

“t-tits!” he stammered out through a prolonged series of high pitched broken moans, you scooted closer stroking his dick with his tip pressed against your cleavage, “cmon baby, cmon..” you moaned moving your head to suck on his balls, which set him into a whole another dimension. you could see in your peripheral vision that the muscles in his thigh started clenching, you peered up staring through your eyes brows watching at how hard he gripped onto the ends of the bed knuckle fading out its original color.

you retract your head back to it’s original position, “i—i’m- it’s coming, oh fuck! it’s coming.” he groans aloud, god he’s so lucky the music was blaring through those expensive speakers or everyone would’ve heard him sounding like a bitch getting fucked. when in reality, he’s just getting his dick sucked.

after one long stroke, there it came. long strings of white spewing out from the tip landing in your cleavage, while some spurts landing on your face. his breathing his unsteady, coming down from that amazing high you dipped the tip of your finger into the puddle of semen, bringing the finger into your mouth.

you sucked it off clean, staring at him intensely while you did it. taking your middle and ring finger doing the same thing but this time traveling to your lower throbbing, soaking, area. spreading your legs apart you took the finger and coated your pussy with his cum, moaning softly at the feeling. “lay down, i wanna fuck you.”

armin chokes, “y-you wanna fuck me? w—we just meet.” he says while his back slowly falls down onto the bed, “yeah, and i just gave you a blow job.” you retort whilst climbing on him having your dress ride up your thigh. “t-that’s different,” he projects. you straighten yourself on him crossing your arms on your chest, eyebrows knit together. “if you don’t wanna fuck that’s fine.” you say as you started removing yourself from his lap, but he quickly stopped you.

“n-no i-i-i do, it’s jus that..” he avoids eye contact with you, glancing at every object in the room. “u-uhm,” he rubs his neck sheepishly, “i-i’m a virgin.” as he finally retraced his way back to your eyes, he noticed a cunning smirk on your lips, “oh? so i was the first person to suck your dick?” he chuckled softly, “n-no, the first person was trash.” your eyebrows embossed with slight shock, you snort out a laugh. “but you’re my first overall.” he said shyly, you hummed softly.

“ion wanna break your heart pretty boy, i-“ he immediately cuts you off, “o-oh you won’t.” he stammered out as he straightened himself up on the bed. his muscular arms resting at your side, you removed the fogged up glasses from his face and rest them aside. “i won’t? what makes you think that.” you asked as your hand combs through his hair than landing at his neck rubbing at the neck hairs which were standing against his neck.

“b-because..” he don’t know what made him think that, maybe he’s that desperate to feel the inside of that man eating cunt. you chuckled leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “you just want me to fuck you hm? you wanna feel my walls tighten around your cock armin?” he swallowed dryly at your explicit words.

“y-yes” he whimpered as his hands squeezed your waist, watching you sit back on his lap. you bite down on your bottom lip, releasing a giggle. your hand latches onto his cock, you began to line yourself up before slowly impaling yourself down. feeling the girth of his dick sliding into your walls was amazing, armin released a shaky exhale from his nose. his lips were rolled in watching his dick getting inhaled by your warm cunt, finally the whole thing was inside resting easy between those gummy walls.

“f-fuck,” you grunt clawing down his chest, “‘m gonna move, okay..?” armin nods as his hands find purchase on your waist feeling it rise before it came back down onto his lap, he stifled a moan which made your eyes sharpen, “don’t hide those pretty noises from me, okay?” he swallowed dryly, before allowing himself to express how he felt, how you made him feel.

“o-kay.” he moaned out his thigh clenches and shakes gently, “you feel so fuckin’ good, fuck, yes,” you chanted now rolling your hips on his cock, armin’s face flusters up. hearing how you praised his cock made his stomach tingle, he peers up staring through his eyebrows. watching how arched your back was, your hands gripping onto the headboard as your faced scrunched up from the way his cock kissed that spot which made your toes curl against the sheets.

he licks his lips, god you look so beautiful. milking his virgin cock, but he also wanted to participate instead of laying there watching you work your way on his dick.

he grasped your hips, causing you to look down. “wh..what are yo—OH! fuck” he took your hips and slammed it into his lap, making your thighs ripple at the action. “fuck!” armin groaned, his blonde locks stuck on his forehead by the sweat dripping off the sides of his face whilst the other strains messily rest on the pillow. “d-did that make you feel good? am i making you feel good.” he whispered letting you rest on his chest while his hips thrust into yours, “y-yes armin, fuck, right there baby.” you whimper brought him to a near orgasm, he had to brush away that feeling. he wanted to make you cum before he did.

since he heard stories about that.

your hands combed through his hair, stomping at the back of his head. “harder.” you whined softly, armin swallowed harshly picking up the speed like you wanted him too. “a-am i doing good, y/n?” for a virgin he was shockingly hitting the right spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head before responding to his question.

“y-yes, you’re doing great min, just sh-shit! shut up and fuck me.” armin whispered an okay, taking you to your orgasm with toying around with your sensitive bud.

you let out a gasp, “oh fuck armin, i’m about to cum.” you moaned biting down on your lip. “me too,” he huffed out, “me too.” he hoarsely said.

the sounds of your cunt squelching made armin feel even more hotter, “fuck you’re so perfect.” armin whimpered squeezing your hips tightly as he too felt his orgasm approaching. you picked your head off his shoulder and glared at him, “shut up.” you grumbled softly, armin smiled softly, he licks his lips to talk once more. “you’re so sexy on top of me,” your eyebrows furrowed slightly, his hips coming to a gentle thrust whilst his hands runs all over your body. “s-stop.” you blushed, he bit down on his lip. swiftly, he turned you two over. your eyes widened by how fast he did it, “but you look even sexier beneath me. taking my cock like a good little princess.”

TY FOR 1K FOLLOWERSSSS AHHHH🩷🩷😍

[thisreadswhatever]

His Best Friend's Sister

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.2k

[summary]: as Opie’s little sister, you never really had a chance with Jax. but with a plan to make him jealous one night at Diosa, you're hoping you can change all of that.

[cw]: 18+, flirting, slight angst, smut, younger reader (just out of college), pet names, oral f receiving, choking, biting, mildly rough sex, spelling/grammar errors throughout

[an]: this is based off of this request (thank you!) - it took so long to finish as i was struggling to write for awhile. it’s not as rough smut wise as it could’ve been but for my first one in a few months it could’ve been worse. anyways now it’s complete i think it may be one of my favourite things i’ve wrote for jax! hope you enjoy. requests are always welcomed - they really help me gain some confidence in my writing. if you’d like to be tagged in future works please lmk :)

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, brother?”

Jax was perched against the door of the men’s bathroom in Diosa.

“If my sister’s going to be with any outlaw, I guess it’s better off being my best friend.”

Jax was amused at this, smirking as he pushed Opie in the shoulder. “As far as outlaws I’d say I’m a pretty big catch.”

Opie scoffed while he zipped up his jeans, “Just don’t break her heart, or I’ll have to break your jaw.” Jax grinned at his best friend, “fair enough.”

You’d known Jax since you were both little kids, and between him and Opie, you always felt like just the pestering little sister, even if you were only two years younger than them. Once you’d graduated college and moved back to Charming, you’d realised just how much you liked Jax. He wasn’t like any guy you’d met at college, and you were crushing.. hard. It had been weeks of playing it cool, and you were done with the act. Tonight you had put on your best dress for Chib’s birthday party at Diosa, and you were going to make Jax see you weren’t just Opie’s annoying little sister anymore.

He walked in from the back rooms with Opie, laughing and running his hands through his hair, rings on every other finger. There was just something about Jax. You pretended you didn’t see him, but any chick with eyes would’ve looked. Melissa, one of the Diosa girls that you’d recently become friends with, had noticed him arrive too.

“Well if your plan doesn’t work in that dress, you got no chance.”

You’d wore the sexiest dress you had, a black short formed velvet dress with tiny straps and the tightest push up bra you could find.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve worn a dress in front of him. He probably won’t notice me at all.”

Nonetheless, you did what you could to catch his eye. You shimmied on your seat towards the bar to make sure Jax could see you, and maybe he could catch a glimpse of your best assets flaunting with the help of your bra. You glanced over at him, wishing he’d glance back so you could lock eyes, yet he was clearly preoccupied by the heated discussion Tig and Bobby were having.

Melissa sighed, “we gotta go for plan B.”

You had no clue what she meant. “Hey Lucas, get over here.” You shifted your view from Jax to her, shocked by whatever she was conjuring up.

“What the fuck are you doing Melissa?”

“You want Jax to notice you?”

“By talking to a prospect?”

“Just shut up and do what I say.” If she wasn’t your closest friend here, you would’ve punched her. Lucas had only been a prospect with the club for a few months, he was shy and in your opinion, a little too innocent looking to be an outlaw. He stood beside your table, unsure what it was he was there for.

“Hey ladies. What can I do for ya?”

“Why don’t you sit down? We don’t bite.” Poor Lucas was melting at the flirty smile Melissa flashed his way. He shrugged and wedged himself on the empty chair placed at the edge of the table, right beside you. You almost felt bad for him.

Almost. Because it was that very moment that you glanced at Jax, and realised he was looking over now, directly at you, smiling while sipping his beer. Your heart started to race.

“What do you think of y/n’s dress?” She must’ve really wanted you to punch her. How the fuck was this going to get you Jax? Lucas pulled at the collar of his shirt, clearly wary that whatever the answer, he was in for it.

“It’s smokin’. Is that all you called me over here for?” Melissa nudged you on the side, pushing you closer to Lucas. “We just thought you may wanna get to know y/n a little better. Seeming as you’re new to the club and all.” You weren’t sure if Lucas looked delighted at the attention or like he wanted to run for the hills.

Melissa whispered in your ear, “It’s working.”

You looked over your shoulder back to the bar, and she was right, Jax hadn’t taken his eyes off you. You decided to play into it a little more. “Hey Lucas, did you know there’s a room out the back that is completely sound proofed?” Melissa gawked at your blunt question. Okay, maybe that was too far. “Umm.. no...” You leaned into him, placing your hand on his leg. “Yep, wanna see?” Lucas gulped and stood up. “Sure, why not.” You smiled at him and held your hand out for him to take, and you both headed towards the back rooms. You didn’t so much as peak at Melissa, but you did look at Jax. He was still watching, as you left the lobby, hand in hand with Lucas.

“This is the room. Pretty cool, huh?” You walked along the velvet wall frame, covered in grey foam squares. The room was large and full of red silk and tapestry. Lucas trailed behind you, closing the door as he followed. “Why would there be sound proofing at a massage parlour?” You laughed, the poor kid really was as naive as he was innocent. “This isn’t a massage parlour, silly.” You were about to explain, until there was a loud knock at the door. Before anyone could answer it, Jax walked in. “Club business out back, prospect. Tig’s looking for you.” Lucas practically ran, nodding at Jax as he left, slamming the door behind him.

And just like that, you were alone. With Jax. For the first time. Ever.

“Hi, Jax.” was all you could get out.

“Hey there, darlin.”

“Club business? Now?” You sat down on the edge of the bed, brutally aware of how high the skin on your thighs were now exposed from the already too short dress. Jax ignored your question as he sat down right next to you, twirling a lighter in his hands. “What exactly were you doing in here with the prospect?” You couldn’t lie to Jax, you were smart enough to know he’d see right through it. You also couldn’t tell him how you’d used the poor innocent soul to make him jealous either. “He wanted to see the room. I was being courteous.” Jax couldn’t contain the laughter now, “Courteous? He looked like his face was gonna melt off.”

Jax stood up and leaned back on his heels, plainly drinking you in with his eyes.

“Were you always this hot?”

Your heart started to race again, crimson filled your cheeks, but you knew you had to play it cool. You narrowed your eyes at him, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Jax smiled back at you. “I never really noticed before. Being Ope’s sister kinda means you’re off limits.” Great. Still in little sister territory. “Then why are you here?”

He was walking to the other side of the room before he sat on the love seat in the far corner. “I wanted to check out the sound proofing.” He was highly amused.

“Very funny.” You figured he was just fucking with you, so you got up from the bed, heading for the door.

“Wait, don’t go.” Jax rushed to stand inbetween you and the doorway, blocking your exit. “I’m only messing with you babe. I’m here cos I couldn’t let Lucas have the hottest girl in Charming.”

“What’s it to you if I’m ‘off limits’..”

The gap between you and Jax was slimming so much you were sure he could hear your heart pounding through your chest. “Play it cool, play it cool” was all you kept repeating to yourself.

“That was before I told Ope I want you to be my old lady. And before I saw you seducing the prospects-“, Jax closed what space was remaining between you, “but I guess if you’d rather have a prospect I could leave you lovebirds to it..”

You shook your head. “Lucas is cute and all but you’re pretty alright too.” Jax leaned into you smiling, turning his back from the door. You moved with him, until you were the one with your back against the door, and Jax so close you could feel his chest moving with each breath. “I definitley don’t want to share you with Lucas.” He was so matter of fact. His nose was touching yours, your body’s morphing into one from the closeness. Fuck.

“Then make me all yours.”

Jax pulled his weight into you, pressing you firmly against the door. You grabbed his cut and pulled him tighter, if that were even possible, securing every inch of your body against his. You wrapped your hands into his blonde hair, tugging at the strands, before pulling your mouth to his. You had to stretch on your toes to reach him, using his hair to bring him closer to your level. He kissed you back with intent, his breath warm and smelling of cigarettes and beer, and you couldn’t get enough. Moans escaped between your lips as his hands travelled all over your dress, pushing you even further into the door so you could feel his hard on rubbing against you.

He pulled your hands from his hair, pinning them above your head to the door. He secured you there with one hand, and used his other to trail his fingers down your chest and stomach, pulling the fabric of your dress higher and higher. He kept his hand against your thigh, gnawing at the skin between your legs, all while kissing your neck as he moved towards your ear. “I like you like this”, he whispered. You groaned at the sound of his praise. This all just felt too good to be true.

He tugged the skin of your thighs tighter and the sensation sent tingles through your core, like a fire was burning in your hips towards your mound. It was all too much. “Holy shit, Jax. Just fuck me already.”

He giggled into your neck and suddenly your hands were released, with your feet lifted off the ground as Jax threw you on the bed. He was standing over you, pulling the buckle from his belt in his jeans. “Mmmm.. well maybe I like you like this better. Take off those panties.” You did as he said, knowing you would follow every instruction he ever gave you without a second thought. You wiggled out of your laced briefs while you lay there, before balling them up and throwing them at him. Jax caught them with one hand, and put them in his back pocket before pulling his jeans off. “What about my dress?” you asked playfully. He knelt down beside the bed, extending his hands to feel you under the dress that was now barely clinging to your body, before sliding them down to your legs and spreading them wide. “Stay just like that.”

He pulled at your hips and slid your body down the length of the bed until you were just hanging off the edge. You whimpered at the touch of his tongue to your soaking pussy. Jax was lapping up every inch of you, and you could feel the pressure mounting between your legs in response. “Jax- fuck- please.” It was all too much. The kneading of your thighs beneath his fingers as he pulled you further into his mouth, his tongue circling and sucking and pulling your clit over and over and over and over. You were almost at the brink of relief when Jax pulled away, smirking at you from the bedside. “Ever since I saw you in that dress I wanted to have my head under it.” He hovered over you, licking his lips before planting them on yours, making you taste every drip of your drenched pussy. You couldn’t take much more.

“Don’t make me beg, Jax.” You could barely get the words out between the gasps of air and his relentless tongue encapsulating yours.

“You don’t have to beg darling’, I’m going to take you so fucking bad.”

Jax pulled his cock from his briefs and slid into you before you could even respond, pounding his length into you while pressing your neck with his hand, choking you into the bed. “Fuck- you’re- so- big.” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the fullness inside of you. You wrapped your hands around his arm securing his to your neck, craving more. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, holding it open as he repeatedly thrusted into you. “Show me what your mouth can do, baby.” You did as he said, sucking and caressing his thumb with your tongue as he lifted your legs from the bed, pulling him deeper inside you. You whimpered and bit on his thumb to stop the noises pouring from your throat, before he removed his hand from your neck. He leant down into you, kissing you while fucking you, pulling your dress to expose your breasts.

“Don’t need to be quiet in a sound proofed room babe. I want to hear you.” His words took you over the edge, and you came together simultaneously. Jax collapsed to your side.

“Holy fuck, Jax.” You couldn’t get anymore words out. He grinned at you as you giggled, embarrassed at your lack of words.

Jax kissed you before grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your cheeks at this point must’ve been the furthest shade of red imaginable. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t real.”

“Better believe it babe. And I’m not even done with you yet.”

[iliketangerines]

I saw the tai lung thing and it got me thinking- what about a reader princess who’s like the peacock from the second kung fu panda movie- who got obsessed with creating weapons and used her high rank to do genocidal raids and when the knowledge comes to liu kang and his fighters they’re sent to stop her- which they do and liu kang ends up keeping her locked away in a chamber deep in the fire temple alone- but he soon figures out she’s just been blinded by rage and trauma- ((sorta fluff plus soft sex maybe if you want tot make it smut- or you could just do fluff and comfort))

you can be better

a/n: boom, you have leucism like lord shen in the movie.

pairing: liu kang x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, creampies, mating press, slightest bit of overstimulation

Liu Kang watches as you hiss and spit out insults at his champions as they bring you in cuffs in front of Liu Kang

you look disheveled, angry, and you lunge at Liu Kang, only stopped by the heavy chains and his champions pulling back on them to keep you away from him

his champions look disheveled, and Johnny Cage looks heavily injured, suit soaking with his blood

Liu Kang dismisses his champions and takes your chains for himself and drags you to the dungeons of the Fire Temple all while you spit and hiss insults at him

he attaches the chains to the bolts in the cell and locks the door behind him, staring down at you as you start to struggle, chest heaving as if you realize the consequences of your actions

he tells you to think on your actions, to think on how many you have killed, before he walks away, listening to you scream and yell about how you regret nothing

he visits you weekly to check on your progress, and at first you only scream insults at him, demanding to be let out, and threatening to kill him

and then you ignore him and his questions, sitting silently in the corner of the cell and glaring at him as you eat your rice and vegetables

but he keeps visiting you and soon enough you sit by the bars of the cell and give him one word answers to his questions as you eat

finally, after a few months of persisting, you give him more than one word and instead small sentences about what you’ve been thinking about

he visits you more frequently after that, the only company in the lonely Fire Temple other than the monks and Geras

and as much as he appreciated them, you were something new, something fresh, no matter how silent or violent you got

one day, he reaches a hand through the bars of the cell to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you flinch back so hard that the rice bowl in front of you clatters onto its side

your chest heaves and a cold sweat breaks on your face as you scramble away from his touch

you go silent for a week after that, refusing to answer his questions, until you finally come back to the bars of the cell and talk to him quietly

he doesn’t press for any answers, just makes sure to tell you if he’s going to touch you and you let him, body stiffening at the touch but no other reaction

and finally, as he heats a teapot in his hands, you whisper in a quiet voice that you regret your actions, that you had acted out of rage and revenge and that it wasn’t right

he quirks an eyebrow but stays silent as he lets you speak

you explain that the city you had leveled, had destroyed in your warpath, was where you grew up, that you were born and raised there

but you were treated unkindly, that they touched you and grabbed any part of your body because you looked different

because you were pale, with white hair and red eyes, and they would make you sit in the sun and let you burn and cry and then beat you for looking different

it was painful, and you grew up resenting the city and had left the second you were old enough and made a name for yourself as a general

you hadn’t thought of your childhood home until a group showed up to the capital to look for help and had found you and immediately started to push you around again

and that, in your rage, you had decided to destroy the city, to get rid of your past for good

you cast your gaze down and pick at the empty bowl, and Liu Kang hums and tells you that he’s going to let you out of the cell and chains, that he wants to walks with you

you sit still as he enters the cell and unlocks your chains, hands warm and gentle as he unlocks the cuffs with a click

but you don’t run, you follow Liu Kang around the compound until he reaches his bedroom and leads you inside

he tells you to take your time in cleaning yourself up and to find him in his study when you’re done, and he leaves the bedroom and attends to his duties, making sure to ask one of the monks to find you clothes

he sits in his office, sipping on his tea, when you enter, hair freshly combed and dressed in a much softer attire than what you were wearing before

you sit down and drink tea with him in silence, and he can’t help but admire how you act, how you still reek of elegance and perfection after being in a cell for months

the two of you have idle chatter, and he tells you that you can study at the Fire Temple, to be alongside him and his champions for Earthrealm

you agree to his proposition, and so you integrate into the life of the Fire Temple

but still, you cling to Liu Kang closely, and the two of you grow closer

you’re never seen without him, and Liu Kang enjoys your company, your battle mind as he considers how to defeat the invading realms and Shang Tsung usurping the peace

one day, as you stand in front of the map, the light through the window framing your head like a halo, Liu Kang slowly, very slowly, reaches his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear

you glance at him, cheeks reddening, as he cups your cheek, and he asks if he can kiss you

for a moment, you hesitate, and Liu Kang thinks he has thought wrong in thinking that you liked him as well

but then you agree, and Liu Kang smiles and leans in close, placing a soft kiss on your lips and cupping the back of your neck gently

you melt into the kiss, bringing both of your hands up to hold into the shirt, and Liu Kang deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth

Liu Kang groans into your mouth at the taste of you, and you whine in tandem before pulling away and resting your head in his shoulder

he asks you if he can take you to the bedroom, and you mumble out a quiet yes

Liu Kang smiles and hooks your arm through his as he walks to his bedroom, and the second the door closes behind him, he’s back on your lips

he walks you backward until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall back onto the bed

he leans down and kisses you again, not getting enough of your taste, and you tangle your hands in his hair as your whine into his mouth

Liu Kang grinds his hips into yours, moaning at the friction on his cock, and you whimper into his mouth and clutch onto his shoulders

he trails a kiss down your jawline, reaching your neck and sucking deep dark hickeys into your skin, and his fingers dip between your legs and rubs at your clit through your pants

you pant at the feeling and grind your hips into the feeling, needing to feel more, and he smiles against your skin as you whine into the air

Liu Kang pulls away and strips off his clothing, and you get the idea and strip off your clothing as well until you’re both bare

he settles himself between your legs and moves back up to kiss your chest, covering it in hickeys

he trails open-mouthed kisses down your body, squeezing at the pudge of your stomach and listening to you whine, before lifting your legs onto his shoulders

he drools at the sight of your cunt, wet and needy for him, and he brings one of his hands up to spread your folds for him

you clench around nothing, and he groans at the sight before diving in, nose grinding firmly into your clit as he laps at your cunt

your hands fly down to grip onto his hair, and your back arches off the bed as your legs clamp around him

nothing could beat this feeling, how your plush and muscled legs wrap squeeze around his head while your wetness spills into his mouth, he’s truly in heaven

Liu Kang laps into your pussy desperately, needing to taste you more and more, and his nose just grinds so perfectly into your puffy clit

you whine and barely have time to warn him as your pussy clenches down on his tongue, and you cum into his mouth

Liu Kang whines at the taste, eagerly fucking his tongue into you to get every bit of your taste, and you whimper at the feeling

you beg, asking him for his cock, please, and he obliges, eager to please you

he crawls his way back, your legs still on his shoulders, and he pushes you into a mating press, your legs burning slightly at the feeling

he kisses you, and you whine at the taste of you on his tongue

Liu Kang grinds his cock into your soaked folds, the tip catching on your clit and making you needy and squirm in Liu Kang’s hold

he chuckles at you and lines up with you before sinking in slowly

he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours as your cunt squeezes around, and you’re just so warm and tight around him, so perfect just for him

he thrusts his hips in and out of you slowly, and his thick cock bumps deliciously into your sweet spot

you squeeze your eyes shut and whine in pleasure at the feeling, and Liu Kang finds that he misses the sight of your eyes

he tells you to look at him, to watch him, and you open your glossy eyes to stare into his own

his hips snap into your with every long thrust, but you keep your eyes on him, face flushing dark and red as you whimper at the eye contact

but you’re so beautiful, so gorgeous, and he tells you so, that he will worship you on his knees, that you’re so pretty on his cock like this, that you’re taking him so well

the praise makes your eyes well up in tears, and you pant out that you’re close, you’re so close

Liu Kang hums, that he knows, and he sets a faster pace as he continues to shower you in place

his pelvis bumps into your clit with every thrust, and it makes sparks fly in your vision as your pussy clenches down on him and you cum

a loud keen leaves your throat as you do so, and liu Kang groans at the sound and buries himself deep as he spills his seed inside of you

he gives you slow shallow thrusts as you both ride out your high, and he leans his head down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you

even as his cock softens inside of you and his cum leaks out of your puffy cunt, you two continue to kiss, blind and deaf to the world around you

but finally, you pull away to catch your breath, and you’ve never looked so beautiful, so gorgeous all flushed and fucked-out

Liu Kang needs more time to recover to love and fuck you properly, and so he makes his way down to your pussy, thick arms wrapping around your thighs and licking a fat strip up your cunt

you whine and tell him that it’s too much, but he tells you to let him worship you as he dives back in

neither of you leave the bedroom for the rest of the day

[jreads]

Not sure if this is where we submit requests, but i’d kill for a fic where reader’s having debilitating anxiety attack in Jackson (like where your vision blacks at the edges and you can’t breathe) and suddenly a strong force is keeping you up and you look up and it’s Joel; and he’s concerned bc he relates (but you don’t know each other) and you take a fistful of his shirt and suddenly they feel the symptoms retreating - and that’s how you meet, and you’ve found comfort in each other since. :’)

Sorry if that made no sense it’s word vomit LOL

Also sidebar: unexpected constellations will stay w me forever thank you:’)

Of Memories and Mealtimes (Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, Mentions of death, Foul language

A/N: this prompt was so cute, I hope I did it justice!

It’s been getting colder recently. No snow, not yet, but the breeze has a certain nip to it, blowing burnt orange leaves to rest on the ground like a natural carpet. The days are grey, and the nights are long, and that creeping feeling has been looming ever closer recently. You’ve found solace in the comfort of the kitchen. The air here is warm and humid and smells of frying garlic and onion. You perform repetitive, menial tasks and it staves off—to some extent—the ever-present penetrating feeling of loneliness. 

Since arriving in Jackson, you’ve struggled to find a place, a sense of belonging. You’re coming to the conclusion that maybe you never will. You thought you had one… but that was a while ago. 

It’s selfish to think you’re the only one in this town with a painful past; it’s clear that everyone is trying just as hard to find reasons to get through each day. You’re not alone. But you do feel like it. Often.

Maria has taken pity on you, stationing you in the kitchens because she knows you like it there. Knows you like to watch the people sitting at tables and soak up sounds of laughter in an attempt to steal a moment of second-hand happiness.

It’s late now, pitch black outside, and your shift is almost over. You’re cutting fruits and veggies for omelettes in the morning: spinach, olives, tomatoes. There are maybe five people still sitting, a table of three, one woman at a booth, and a man sitting alone at the bar. Sometimes, you like to eavesdrop.

The trio are talking about their old lives. They seem to have found something in common, street racing. Moding their cars, evading the cops… back when you could just drive into a gas station for petrol.  One used to have an old Charger, stolen in the looting. He reminisces over how the purr of the engine felt, how the lights of the highway would turn to a blur as he accelerated. From the corner of your eye, you see the man from the bar get up to leave, dropping some coin on the counter. You used to like to drive fast too. When it was for leisure and not for survival.

“I’m scared.”

The familiar voice sears through you like a branding iron, bringing with it flashing images of memory. Fuck. No, no, no. Not now. 

The freeway is peppered with stationary cars, and you’re swerving, as fast as humanly possible, trying desperately to navigate the mess. The Jeep behind you is gaining, and the little boy in your passenger seat is rigid in fear. If you can just make it through the overpass, it clears out after that. Their car is good offroad, but yours is faster. You upshift.

There’s gunfire, and your rear window shatters. He screams. You use your right hand to push his head down. He needs to stay low. You’re almost there.

Another gunshot. You try to ignore the popping of the rear tire; try not to think about what it means. The vehicle swerves and you fight against it by correcting the wheel. It’s no use. You clip the side of an abandoned car, and your own flips. You’re thrown through the windscreen. It’s the last thing you remember before your vision goes dark.

There’s pain. But not from the onslaught of old memories. You’ve slipped with the knife in your distraction, cutting a deep line into the side of your thumb. It’s dripping down, coating your fingers in a slick red. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, lungs constricting so hard you can barely get a breath in.

“Could I take five?” you manage to gasp to the other lady. But you don’t even wait for her reply before dropping the knife with a clatter and banging gracelessly through the back service doors. Your vision is blurring, darkening at the edges and your head is spinning. It feels as if you might die. You’re going to die.

Your hand is now coated in blood and—with little thought—you try to brush it off with your right, only succeeding in spreading the scarlet until it’s all you can see.

You wake in a ravine. How long have you been out? There’s pain in your cheek and you reach up to pluck a piece of glass from it. The crash. The kid. Oh, no. Oh, god. You call his name, voice hoarse. No reply. Your legs are too weak to support the weight of your own body, so you scramble up from the ditch, back onto the freeway. The car lies a few meters away on its side. Scraped and destoyed. And beyond it, a small body. No.

You crawl to him, sobbing at the bones bent in unnatural angles. And the bullet wound through his chest. You scream. You wail. His lifeless form is so small in your arms, leaking blood over your palms. You were supposed to protect him. You were supposed to—

His body is going cold. Limp and lifeless. But you can’t let go. Maybe, if you just hold on tight enough, the force of your love can breathe life back into his lungs.

You’re covered in his bood, figuratively, literally, it’s everywhere. Stumbling as if you’re drunk, you cry so hard that the tears only blur your vision further. It’s been a while since you’ve had one this bad. If you could just get back to your house. God, why did it have to happen in public? You can’t see where you’re going, so it’s no surprise when you run into something.

No, someone. There are hands on your shoulders and a comforting voice, gravelly Texan accent. What is he saying? You can’t tell. You’re going to be sick.

Something blocks out the lights of the streetlamp. There’s a body beside you.

A fragile body, broken and empty. Leaking life onto cracked pavement.

No, but this body is warm. Strong and gentle. A calloused palm cradling your head into a broad chest, a steady heartbeat. Alive. This body is alive. You clutch onto the fabric of his shirt with desperate hands, forgetting for a moment that your own blood will stain the fabric. He’s speaking words, low whispers, but the sound of them vibrates through him and into you. He’s telling you to calm down.

But you can’t. How do you tell him you can’t? You’re choking on air, hiccupping in a way that hurts.

“Come on now, breathe with me.” He smells nice, like cedar and whiskey. You can feel him smoothing circles onto your back, the rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales. You try to copy him, lungs spasming with the effort. “That’s it. Keep going.” You’re heaving loud, ugly, uneven breaths, but it’s all you can manage. Past and present are flashing before you, your own blood, someone else’s, unseeing eyes and dead silence, a thumping pulse and soothing voice. It’s getting easier; you’re synchronizing your breaths to his own. But as you lean into the comedown, that exhaustion starts to creep up behind you. You melt into him in relief, but he doesn’t shy away. “There you go. I got you.”

Pieces of your surroundings start to fade back into view. You’re under the awning by the barn, shrouded in shadow. He’s practically holding you up by himself, and you feel a sudden deep stab of embarrassment. You can’t look this stranger in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his shirt.

He doesn’t loosen his hold. “You got nothing to apologize for.”

“Probably got… blood on your shirt.” It’s taking effort to even form the words.

He laughs lightly and the sound is like warm caramel. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The nausea is ebbing, but you find you don’t want to leave. Caught in his arms, you feel the safest you’ve felt in a long while.

“You should probably get that finger bandaged.” He steps away, pulling your arm into the light to examine the cut and you almost sob once more at the loss of contact. “I got supplies back at my place, if that’s alright by you?”

“Okay,” you say because you feel too weak to walk back to your own house alone right now. And also because in the glow of the streetlamp, you can see the rugged handsomeness of his face, etched with sweet worry, dark curls interspersed with shots of grey. You’ve seen him before. The man at the bar, so often alone. 

You’re shaking now, visceral, wracking shudders. He sheds his coat and swings it over your shoulders before leading you down the laneway.

His house is not far, a five-minute walk at most. He ushers you up the front porch, opening the door to a dim-lit living area.

“Joel?” A shrill voice calls down from above. 

Joel Miller? This is Joel Miller?

“Yeah Ellie, it’s me.”

A little girl comes bounding down the stairs, dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She stops dead when she sees you, noting the jacket around your shoulders, the blood on your hand.

“What happened?” she says, with a kind of fascinated wonder that comes naturally to kids. Oh god, she reminds you of—

“Kitchen accident.” Joel replies smoothly. “You mind getting the med kit, kiddo?”

Her big eyes blink once, twice. “Oh, yeah.” Then she’s running right back up the staircase.

Joel sits you on the couch, grasping your wrist with a tender motion so at odds with all the things you’ve heard about him. Then again, you never knew he had a kid.

“Is she yours?”

He doesn’t look up from your palm. “In the ways that count.”

The girl, Ellie, is back down in record time with a worn first aid kit that she extends to Joel. When he takes it, she looks again at you with blatant curiosity. You feel guilty for barging into the warmth of their home like this.

“Ellie, why don’t you go boil some water for coffee.”

“Can I have hot chocolate?” she asks, and the hopeful joy in her voice is enough to finally make you smile.

Joel does too. “Sure.” And she’s off once more, rounding the corner to where you assume the kitchen lies. “But don’t go putting extra sugar in it,” he calls after her. The soft domesticity makes you ache with loss.

“Well, good news is you won’t be needing stiches.” He pulls an array of supplies from the box: disinfectant, gauze, a bandage. “But you should tell Maria to take you off kitchen schedule for a couple days.”

“How’d you know I was on kitchen schedule?” 

“Lucky guess,” he replies easily, but you swear there’s pink travelling across his cheeks. 

The disinfectant stings and you hiss. He falls into silent work, and you find yourself watching him, trying to understand how the man in front of you is the very same that garnered such a ruthless and cold reputation. 

He breaks the silence first. “I don’t mean to pry but…” Joel fastens the bandage securely around your finger. “…if you want to talk about what happened…”

You don’t. Not now, maybe not ever.

When you don’t reply, he nods his head. “I get it.” You watch him cast a glance toward the sound of a boiling kettle, to where Ellie is. “Trust me, I do.” 

You sit with him and Ellie—quiet with a warm cup of coffee—until late into the night. Ellie makes a face at the smell of it and quips back and forth with Joel about how he can ‘drink that piss.’ The girl has a mouth on her. She’s clever, sharp-witted, and the banter between her and him seems to dig a needle and thread into your gaping heart and sew one single stitch into it.

Past midnight, despite your repeated refusal, Joel insists he walk you home. Seeing your own house, cold and devoid of light makes your shoulders slump and heart race anew. Joel seems to note the behaviour.

“You’re always welcome at ours.” You know you’ll never take him up on the invitation. From the sadness in his eyes, you think he knows it too.

There are miles between you. “Thank you.” He only nods. You leave him standing on the lawn.

From behind the safety of the porch window, you can see that he waits for the light to turn on in your living room before walking back down the street.

Maria has insisted you take a few days off. Damn it. Joel must have said something. You try to busy yourself in the garden instead, but the gloves fit awkwardly over your bandage. You don’t last long anyway. The sound of school children heading home hits your ears around 3:00PM, and within minutes, a small shadow blocks where the sun hits your face.

“What’re you doing?”

Just seeing her face is enough to put a small smile on your own. “I’m planting basil.”

“What’s basil?”

You laugh. Actually laugh. “You want to try some?” You offer her a leaf and she chews it thoughtfully. Gives it an approving face. A thumbs up.

“You should bring some for Joel.” The forwardness of her suggestion is almost shocking, but she seems like the type of kid who says whatever comes to mind. You like that about her. “His cooking is pretty bland.”

Two laughs in one day. This kid is like medicine. “You think so?”

“Mhm. You could come over now. I think he’s on patrol, but he’ll be back soon.”

You think about turning her down, just on reflex. But you like how it feels to laugh, just the way you liked how you had felt in Joel’s arms the other night. So you agree. Her smile is brilliant. 

Minutes later, when she loops her arm through your own, she says, “Hey but don’t tell Joel what I said about his cooking, okay?”

You promise.

Around 7:00PM, he comes through the door, a weary sigh giving him away. “Ellie,” he calls.

“In here!” She’s excited. You’ve prepared a meal: pasta, sundried tomatoes, and the basil plucked from the garden. She’s been picking at the penne with her fingers, unable to wait until he arrives.

Seeing the surprised look on his face when he rounds the corner makes you feel suddenly shy. “I wanted to do something to thank you for last night and, well… Ellie found me in the—”

“Joel, it’s so fucking good.” At this point the muscles in your face are starting to hurt from smiling. 

Over dinner, you actually start to engage in the conversation, and somehow you seem to get along like you’ve known each other for years. In tandem, they work to bring you out of your shell. Your voice is hoarse and face warm by the time you go to leave, but Joel stops you at the door.

“Let me walk you back again.” Your selfish streak is only getting worse. You say yes. You think you see Ellie’s face in the top window as the two of you leave, a devious grin on her face.

Conversation flows on the way, about food, wine, Ellie. It’s comfortable, familiar, but there’s something… 

A yearning, buried under layers of friendly formality. He walks you up your porch and you think, for just a moment, about inviting him inside.

But you’re not quite ready for that just yet. So, you rise up to kiss him on the cheek instead, relishing the stunned look on his face.

Shy again, you back away across the threshold. “Good night, Joel.”

He says it back, and the way your name rolls of his tongue ignites something long dormant within you. You think he might be looking at your lips.

When the door closes, you let out a shuddering breath. And for what seems like the thousandth time that night, you smile.

[austinbutlerfly]

How to fuck a rockstar.

My first ever oneshot on tumbler, enjoy my friends.

Credit for the GIF @bin1es. Go to her profile for more wonderful GIFs!

(A huge, massive, austin's cock size thank u to @austinbutlerslovers that helped with with the english, rewrite, and the smut! I cant thank u enough, u have such a talent and im so thankful for u! Thank u so so so so so so much!)

🔥 How to Fuck a Rockstar 🔥

"Another round?" Austin asked looking across the table with you and Jeff eyeing your glass still full. "No I think I’m good Austin..." you answered flatly.

Austin looked perplexed you hadn’t finished your drink yet but he nodded and kissed your cheek before walking to the bar.

"Have you done it ?"Jeff asked.

"Done what?" You asked pretending to be clueless as you raise your brow at him. “Don’t you dare lie snake." He snaps pointing his finger in your face to threaten you.

"Fine Jeff...I emptied his bag...it wasn’t there, no drugs no money ...it was just filled with some of his clothing and rings. Nothing you asked for." You reply rolling your eyes in annoyance.

Jeff was a cocaine addict and he was forcing you to buy it for him with Austin's hard earned cash, you hated him for it.

Austin was no angel himself, but stealing from him really gutted you. "You didn’t do it did you? Because you’re just a stupid fucking whore clinging onto her rich rocker boyfriend!"Jeff spat before he jumped up from his seat. He stood over you and grabbed you by your arms and violently hurled you to the floor.

You growled angrily once you had fallen, you felt the pain shot of up your knees and palms as your glared up at him. There would definitely be bruises. “How dare you!” You yell as you grab his ankle from your low vantage point. It catches him off guard when you yank with all your might topple him over landing hard on the floor next you.

Once you are both down you glare at each other before you quickly scramble up and run for Austin at the bar. You are stopped mid-way by Jeffs hand gripping into your hair and ripping you back. You yell in pain ” Let go you psycho!” and yank Jeff’s wrist to release your hair.

You both glare at each again “You tell him what you did and your fucking done bitch, he’ll never go for a whore like you and I’ll be sure he knows it!” He hisses. You quickly launch at him pushing his chest with all your force knocking you both to the ground.

You land on top of him with a resounding smack against the hard wood floor. Before you can take a swing someone grabs you around your waist from behind and pulls you off of him.

You struggle to get out of the hold until you look down and recognize the rings on the hands around you belong to Austin.

Once he pulls you up on your feet he quickly turns you to face him. "Woah...hey, hey, hey...what is this about..?" he asks surprised to see his band mate and his girlfriend fighting.

Jeff quickly gets up from the floor glaring at you “Keep her the fuck away from me Austin, she attacked me she’s fucking crazy!” Jeff snarls grimacing as he straightens his shirt and sniffles. He walks back to his seat dropping the incident as if it never happened.

Jeff hated having you around he could never understand what Austin saw in you. Smoking hot face and body sure, but other than that Jeff only saw you as a whiny spoiled groupie brat dragging Austin down.

You were everywhere; at his shows back stage, at his after parties sitting on his lap like a fucking pet. Jeff despised having you around which is why he extorted you and found out your dirty little secret. After asking around he found out for a fact you were a band leader groupie. You had a trail of broken hearts in your wake.

With Austin being the lead singer of a band once you hooked your claws into him Jeff knew he was done for. So he began to use you both; extorting you by threatening to reveal your groupie status so you would take Austin’s money and fuel his cocaine habit.

It was all working perfectly until you grew a conscious. Jeff scoffed as he watched Austin affectionately take your hand and lead you to a secluded booth in the back of the bar.Once seated in the booth you explained to Austin what was going on between you and Jeff. Austin let out a deep sigh as he held the bridge of his nose gathering his thoughts. “So let me get this straight you’re saying Jeff made you steal my money...to buy him drugs?” Austin asks opening his eyes to raise his brows at you.

"Yes! Yes! He’s been doing it for a month now!" You say quickly believing he understands you.

"Do you know how stupid you sound? You could've told me and I would have kicked his fucking teeth in! Also why didn’t you just refuse? You ever heard of the magic word called ‘No'? Do you know how to use that word yet?" He asked sarcastically, but he wasn’t being funny, he was enraged by your actions.

His words sting and you clench your jaw as you look away. "I thought you would understand Austin." You say bitterly as you cross your arms.

"Understand what exactly? That you’re stupid?" He says coldly and you reactively slap him turning his head the with force. His face reddens with the mark of your handprint as his jaw clenches and his nostrils flare looking back at you.

He grabs your hand snatching you up and leading you away from the booth. You slightly drag your heels but he tugs you along with him. “Where are we going! What are you doing Austin?!.” You say panicked “I’m gonna teach you a lesson.“ he snaps as you reach the hall.

Before you have time to protest he pushes you into the men’s bathroom and locks the door. The single closed off stall is empty and as you lunge to escape he grabs both of your wrists pinning them against the wall as you face him. You feel his breath on your skin as his body invades your space.

He stares at you with your faces inches apart his presence overwhelms you, he is taller and stronger but you don’t waver. “You gonna say sorry for that slap?” He says lowly in a growl as his gaze bears down on you.

“Why should I apologize you called me stupid. You’re a prick” you shoot back. His eyes narrow at your defiance. “You steal from me for another man and you don’t ask for my help? That makes you fucking stupid” he days inflicting on the word. “I’m not stupid and I’m not apologizing! You deserved it.” You retort loudly.

His eyes fix on you with unwavering intensity and he seems to see right through you, leaving you feeling exposed and uneasy.

“Your apology is no good now, I want something else to make up for it” He says releasing one hand from your wrist. He brings his hand around your throat and you feel the light pressure of his fingers close around it. You feel even more vulnerable as you stare into his eyes. “You’ve got a real mean temper.” He says lightly squeezing your neck. “and a dirty fucking mouth” he says and presses his lips to yours.His kiss stuns you but with him holding you in place you slowly begin to give in, kissing him in return.

He releases his hold on your wrists and takes your right hand forcing it onto his hardened cock in his jeans. You try to move your hand aways but he holds in firm on him making you squeeze his large bulge as he breaks the kiss. “You feel what you do to me?” He asks forcing your hand to rub his cock up and down.

He looks into your eyes with a menacing stare and pulls closer to your face bringing his lips inches from yours as he speaks.“You like being violent don’t you.” He asks just above a whisper. Your heart rate increases looking into his eyes. “I can handle myself.” Your voice comes out much weaker than you intended because he’s getting into your head.

He looks down at his hand forcing yours to massage his cock before looking back into your eyes. “I want you to behave and keep rubbing my cock because I’m going to teach you a lesson” he says loosening his grip.

Once he frees your hand you glare at him and rub him harder on his jeans. He knows you hate being told what to do so he watches you rub his cock a little longer before he speaks.

“For the trouble you’ve cause you owe me “ he says unbuckling his belt and you stop your hand. “Austin I’m not doing this in the men’s bathroom.” You retort. “ yes you fucking are” he says forcefully flipping you around.

He presses your chest to the wall and holds your wrists together. You struggle to free them but he holds firm. “Sh sh sh don’t fight it you need to know who’s in charge baby.” he scolds as he kicks your feet apart with his boot making you spread your legs.

“Do you feel in control?” He asks as his free hand reaches up under your skirt and his fingers find the hip strap of your thong. “What you going to fuck me into submission?” Ask smartly as you struggle against his grip.

He presses your chest forward and pulls hard and ripping your panties off. The sound of tearing fabric is harsh and loud. “Austin are you serious! Those are the only pair I have to wear tonight!” You hiss.“Such a spoiled thing aren’t you.” He says grinning at your bratty attitude. “I’ll buy you a new pair but in the meantime why don’t you try this on for size.” He remarks and slowly pushes his two long fingers in your pussy thrusting them in and out.

It feels so pleasurable but you don’t let him know it you huff angrily as he fingers you until your body betrays you. "Fight me all you want you’re getting so fucking wet babe you like it.” he says smiling.

You wish you could wipe that smug look right off his face until he removes his fingers “Austin don’t stop” you wine arcing your back to taunt his fingers back in. He laughs “whiny brat, you sure are needy for not wanting to get fucked in the men’s bathroom a minute ago” he observes.

“Quit taunting me Austin or I’ll make you regret it“ you threaten. He unzips his pants freeing his large cock and slaps it repeatedly on your ass making himself harder. “I won’t regret a thing teaching you this lesson babe” He rasps “What lesson that your a pric- -“ you don’t get to finish your smart remark as he thusts his cock fully inside of you as you choke on your words.

He is so large it takes him a moment to press his hips to the back of your thighs and you let out a loud gasp as your clit pulses from the stretch.

“You..are a whiny brat” He says beginning to thrust into you “ and I am going to fuck that …right out of you” he promises. Your knees buckle from his force and he pushes your chest against the wall pinning you as his hips clap harder against your ass. “Oh Austin oh fuck”you say as your core tightens and you get get weaker on each powerful hit of his cock.

His hand sharply smacks across your ass making you yelp. “Gonna say sorry now?” He says through clenched teeth but you defy him “No!” you protest. He claps his hand on your ass again spanking you harder as you clench on him and whine. “Spoiled brat!” He hisses “not gonna let you cum until you apologize ” he says grabbing the back of your neck.

He forces your face to the wall as his pace becomes violent. His cock jolts into your body rocking your core. “Gonna say …sorry …now!” He says squeezing his grip to the back of your neck fucking you against the wall until you’re seeing stars.

You begin gasping losing all your resolve feeling the familiar tightening ready to release. You give in so he’ll let you cum. “I’m sorry Austin I’m sorry Im sorry I’m sorry !” You whine losing your mind on the raw passion of his thrusts.“That’s it .. that’s …my …good girl” he compliments slowing his thrusts to play with your clit. He slips his fingers over your wet little wet pearl until you are rhythmically clenching on him “I’m gonna cum Austin !” You cry out. “Cum with me” He says and runs his fingers over your clit as he increases his speed again. You orgasm as he thrusts into you and his hips stutter as he release his semen into you.

He releases your hands hugging you from the back as plants kisses down the side of your neck s he slows his thrusts. He stops as he pants heavily near your ear. You are both smiling and breathing heavily as you come down from your intense high. “Are you good now.” He asks a little breathless as he leans up and puts himself away.

“Austin you ripped my panties and pinned me to a bathroom wall I’m more than good ” You say grinning. He pulls you to him by wrapping his hand around your waist and devours your mouth in a hot kiss.

He releases your staring into your eyes and in that moment you know Jess insnt going to be his band mate anymore. You’re going to get him kicked out for good.

“Just so you know Austin when I did confront Jeff I told him I’d never steal from you again and you know what he did Austin? He threw me to the ground and that’s why I went off in the bar.” You see Austin’s eyes go dark. “ He … he put his hands on you?” Austin says feeling his rage boil so high he can barely form a sentence . You extend your leg and put your palms up to show him the bruises. “he’s fucking dead! “ Austin yells unlocking the bathroom door slamming it open and storming into the bar.

“Hey Jeff!” Austin yells aggressively making Jeff look over his shoulder “ What Aus- - “ his sentence is cut short as his mouth is punched repeatedly by Austins fist covered in rings. You hear the crunching and snapping of Jeff’s face being rearranged as a wicked grin forms on your face.

Austin punches him again and again until blood swirls in Jeffs mouth and he lurches forward in a daze spilling it out onto the table as Austin relents. “Aus..tin…what the …fuck..” Jeffs says as his head lulls on the verge of losing unconsciousness.

The unexpected blows render Jeff listless and Austin tugs his shirt up holding him steady for the final blows.“You put…your hands…on my girl …I put ..my fists on you” he says on each hit the final one connecting and making Jeff’s eyes roll up. Austin stop and lets Jeffs head smack onto the table. “Stay the fuck away from us your done with the band!” Austin yells at him as Jeff gurgles.

You come to Austin’s side to survey the damage. Bloody table, unconscious Jeff, Austin checking his bloody knuckles. Austin shakes his hand out and holding it by the wrist. “Piece of shit made me ruin my playing hand!” He spits.

Your eyes grow wide you didn’t realize. “Oh shit let me see.” You say. He puts his bloody hand in yours and your look over his knuckles and ask him to move his fingers. He does but they are stiff. “Aw baby they’ll get better.” You say comfortingly “let’s get you some ice and make them feel better.” You say wrapping your hand around his waist and guiding him to the bar. “You good baby?” He asks putting his arm around you holding you to him. “ Yes Austin I’m more than good.” You’d say smiling looking up at him through your lashes.

End

@austinslounge @purejasmine (i dont have taglist bc its my first fic so i just tagged ppl i think will be intrested-)

[frvnkcastles]

hello my love!!! i was wondering if i could request a fic with a reader who finds it hard to accept affection (even though she loves and craves it), especially in public getting super embarrassed and thinking everyone is staring and judging because why would someone like FRANK be with someone like them??? but frank is just determined at all times to show how much he cares and knows to respect boundaries but also how to push back a little and open the reader up to accepting open affection more. idk if that makes sense? i'm sorry if it doesn't

WITH MY TUNNEL VISION ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You struggle with affection, but Frank is determined to give it to you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, anxiety, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: I loved this request so much and I was so worried about not doing it justice, but I tried my best!! I hope you like it :)

Even months after you and Frank had more or less officially started dating, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. He saw himself as someone damaged and broken, but you thought he was the greatest man you had ever gotten to know, and admired him from inside out. He was caring and protective and no doubt easy on the eyes — and most days, you appreciated that wholeheartedly. Some days, you felt insecure. Full of doubt and wonder that he would choose to be with you, and that only heightened whenever you were out in public together.

So, when Curtis and his girlfriend invited you and Frank to a bar for a night out, you were stressed to say the least. You felt completely out of place, like you had no business being by Frank’s side, his arm casually over your shoulders as he laughed at whatever Curtis had just said.

”You okay?” Frank’s deep voice cut through the buzz in your head, and when he ducked down to brush his lips against your forehead, you instinctively dodged — and in an instant, guilt rushed into your system and you could physically feel the air getting awkward. ”Hey, what’s wrong?” Frank added with a frown, unsure where the hesitation was coming from. You had been fine before going out, not a single sign of being mad at him to be seen, and his kisses well-received.

”I’m gonna get another drink”, you evaded the question, and as you turned for the bar, you could feel their eyes on you. That was the feeling you had wanted to avoid — like you were being watched and judged, and here it was, anyway.

You weren’t by yourself for very long. As soon as you were seated by the bar, Frank was following and leaning against the counter to catch your wandering eyes. ”Sweetheart”, he grunted, tilting his head to meet your gaze, ”talk to me.”

Inhaling sharply, you glanced at him before returning your eyes to the bartender mixing your drink. ”You know what’s wrong”, you insisted, but when Frank just stared back at you, you sighed. ”It’s the… affection. Feels weird in public”, you explained further, and with realization dawning on his face, he slowly nodded.

Hell, he hadn’t been the most touchy person, either. But something about you had made it feel safe and secure again, like it was okay for him to be happy and show that to everyone else.

”Baby… ’m sorry, I… shit, yeah, I do remember you mentionin’ that”, he cleared his throat, watching you closely and aching to touch you. ”How come you don’t like it?” Frank wondered with a tone of sincerity, not trying to push your buttons but to understand you better — and as much as you wanted to be frustrated, you understood that.

”I dunno”, you shrugged, but you already knew he wasn’t going to take that for an answer. ”I guess I just feel like people will stare. And—and judge me”, you went on, and with an incredulous chuckle, Frank knitted his eyebrows together.

”Judge you?” he repeated with confusion, and nodding, you drew a generous sip from your drink.

”Yeah, you know, just… you’re… you. And I’m just me. And why would you choose to be with me, right? Everyone can see it. You could do so much better and I swear, if people see you kissing me, they’ll just wonder what you’re doing with me, wasting your time on me”, you rambled, and by the end of your rant, you were flustered and looking around to make sure you hadn’t been too loud. Even now, with Frank only inches away from you, you were sure eyes were on you.

Frank processed your words for a moment. ”Hey, you know that’s total bullshit, right?” he spoke finally, giving you a grave look, his curious smile long gone. ”If anything, people will wonder what a stunner like you is doing with an ugly mug like mine. And even if that were the case, I don’t really fuckin’ care what other people think. You’re my girl, and no one else matters”, he defended you, seething at the mere idea of someone looking at you wrong.

”Did ya see someone starin’? ’Cause you know I’ll fight ’em”, he changed his tone suddenly, glancing around to pinpoint any lurkers, but you quickly placed a calming hand on his forearm.

”I didn’t. It’s just my anxieties, that’s all”, you sighed in defeat, and taking in a breath, Frank turned back to you and nodded.

”And you know it’s all lies, right? Just your head tryna mess with my girl”, he pointed out, and as much as you wanted to justify your fears somehow, you couldn’t help but admit he was right.

”So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna agree on a safeword that you can use if it gets too much. Until you say it, I’mma dote on you ’til you’re spoiled rotten, ’cause I wanna show you how much I goddamn admire you and I don’t really care who’s around to see”, he proposed, and with a smile curving your lips back up, you stared at him in disbelief — here he was proving yet again that he was everything.

”Deal.”

You tried your very best to tolerate the public displays of affection, because truthfully, you wanted them. You craved his touch and his attention, and behind closed doors, you were hungry for it. So you tried to extend the same courtesy out and about, pushing your own limits because deep down you knew he was right about other people not mattering.

And the greatest part was seeing how happy Frank was. You were the first serious relationship he had found himself in since Maria and it had taken him a long time to relearn how to be in one. But slowly, he had unraveled what worked for him and you, and discovered that he really, really wanted to show his girl off.

So whenever you were out, he made sure to hold your hand or have his arm around your shoulders. Every now and then he would lean in to kiss your forehead or cheek, sometimes even lips, and you were learning how to lean in instead of pull away.

A month later you were back at the same bar with Curt and his girlfriend, on a night when it was especially busy. Frank could tell you were nervous, but trusting in the progress you had made together, he kept you close to him.

”So, things are good?” Curtis queried while Frank was getting you a new drink, and with a beaming smile, you nodded.

”Things are great. He makes me really happy”, you chuckled sheepishly, and just in time, Frank appeared from behind you, handing over your drink.

”Who’s the lucky guy?” he grinned, and softly nudging him, you snorted.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing, you thanked him for the drink by giving him a kiss, and as soon as your lips left his, you could see the amazed stare in his eyes. Immediately, you realized what you had done, and you opened your mouth to say something, but panic washed over you and you were rendered speechless.

”No, no, baby, it’s okay. You did good. You did perfectly”, Frank breathed out, his eyes full of love as he leaned down to cup your cheeks and kiss your nose and jaw and forehead. ”No one’s lookin’, I promise. It’s just you and me, right?” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

You caught your breathing and managed a nod, and when you glanced at Curtis and found him preoccupied with his girlfriend, relief washed over you. ”Yeah, it’s okay”, you swallowed when you looked around, confirming that truly, no one cared. No one was judging.

”Love you”, Frank spoke quietly before leaving a kiss right next to your ear, and squeezing his hand, you dropped your head on his shoulder.

”Love you.”

[pumpkinbxtch]

𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

☆ radiostar is playin': forever always by the driver era…!

warnings: none taglist: @emidpsandia

He, apparently, was dead missing.

"He went alone on the mission with Python. He hasn't returned for three days now." A month later, Meg contacted you through an Iris message and explained everything that had happened. A month later and the days passed, nobody knew about him.

"We only know that he retrieved all the Oracles and the gifts of prophecy returned," Chiron told you, and Dionysus, for the first time, looked nervous and worried about his brother.

But if Apollo had succeeded in his mission, where was he? You hadn't dreamed of him either. Days went by and your anxiety grew.

"I didn't agree, but my brother insisted on pushing him to the limit," Poseidon said seriously, and Percy replied, "I think he took it too literally, don't you?" You suppressed a groan while your father scolded your brother with his gaze. Python was gone forever, but they knew nothing of Apollo.

"It's okay, it's only been five days," you thought, but you realized that every day you did it with a new number and without any news until almost two weeks had passed... Honestly, you didn't know how many times you had cried in all that time, you didn't even bother to hide it, and even your roommate requested a room change.

Lately, the time was bad in every sense. Thunder rumbled, and you hugged the pillow tighter, tears already rolling down your cheeks. The room was colder than usual; after all, you were alone in it. You accompanied yourself with the dim light of your desk lamp, and the flash of lightning illuminated the darkest corners. You realized you were crying over too many things, everything was very recent, you hadn't even finished processing Jason's death, and those lightning bolts... all they did was remind you of it.

"Wasn't it enough with him?" You wondered as you let out your sobs. Jason was his son just like Apollo, and if he led them both to death just to reaffirm his authority to everyone, you had no doubts that Zeus was a cruel father. The thunder shook the window, and you closed your eyes in anger, not retracting anything, even if Zeus annihilated you with one of his lightning bolts, you would never do so. Probably beyond, on Olympus, your own father struggled with annoyance with his brother, but even if Poseidon wasn't half the father that Paul was to you and Percy, he would never allow you to be harmed.

Your tennis sounded against the wet sand of the path leading to your favorite café. You walked in a ghost town with a hollow chest and the cold penetrating your bones, but it didn't matter because you already felt like those skeletons that Nico brought to the surface when he was in a bad mood; anyway, you moved forward to have a hot chocolate, it was Sunday, you had to have enough strength for classes the next day.

— Here it is — the lady said when you had just formed in line at the bar. You frowned and shook your head.

— Surely it's for someone else, I just got in line.

The girl smiled and looked at the label.

— Hot chocolate? —she asked in the waiting line, and no one recognized it, she returned to you and handed it to you again. — It was ordered in advance.

A joke from Frank? Frank didn't make jokes. But if it were, how did he know what you wanted?

You took it and looked at the label, it had a sun drawn on it that made you purse your lips. "Of course, it had to be," you thought bitterly and walked back taking the long way, the one that passed by the small Tiber.

The sunlight barely reflected on the water after all it was covered by the clouds, and you sighed as you looked at the huge body of water, your chest hurt. How did this happen? You would be better off if you hadn't entered that Grove, but you had to do your will, but you wouldn't have had those days with Apollo, which provoked mixed emotions in you again.

"this rhymes for him were different, but he hopes for put that ring and find what he's been missing."

— If you wanted to marry me so much, come back and do it — you murmured with your nose buried in your scarf and tears stinging your eyes. You cut your step and faced the river that continued to shine coldly, the small cup you held slipped from your hands with each sob, and when you let out the first whimper, you let it go. However, it didn't fall. You gasped, and when you looked beside you, your breath left you.

Of those brown curls, only a few remained mixed with the blond ones, of the freckles you counted that last time you had him too close, there were only about three hundred instead of a thousand. He was taller, and his body more athletic, but he wore the same Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans from the knees. His smile was big and triumphant, the same blue eyes you had been waiting to see were just trying to memorize your fractions in the same way you were doing with him.

— And are you serious or are you just fooling me?— His voice. You threw yourself into his arms without considering if he could be hurt, but judging by how he looked... then you took him by the shoulders, he foolishly thought you would kiss him, but you just leaned back and kicked him in the chest with the skill that only you could have.

He groaned on the ground in a fetal position, and seconds later, he rose on his elbows with a confused look.

— Idiot — you shouted as you walked towards him and knelt to be at his height. Apollo couldn't help but smile like an idiot, and you couldn't help but hug him again. — Where the hell were you?

Your whimpering caused guilt in his chest, and he took care of your head as both lay back on the grass. He stroked your hair as you clung to his chest, wishing his scent would imprint on you to never forget it.

— Hey…— He called you, and you looked up, noticing tears in his eyes too. You cupped his cheek and, before he could say anything else, you kissed him. The first kiss. He closed his eyes, completely surrendered to you, feeling like he could finally breathe freely after months. When your soft lips left his, he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You couldn't see it, but Apolo had a flushed face and a knot in his stomach.

But you didn't need to see it, because as he hid in you, the sun broke through the clouds, shining brightly, almost lighting up the whole world with brighter colors than before. It was with that detail that you confirmed he had become a god again, and his feelings were showing to you in too many ways.

— I…— You spoke after several minutes of silence, causing him to sit properly on the grass with you, holding your hand. — I do want to be with you. I'm not just messing around, just so we're clear.

— Do you have an alternative? — He joked, and you gently pushed him while nervously looking at your hands.

— Fool.

— For you, of course — he cooed as he took your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him. His cheeks were still flushed, but you noticed that his skill to seduce without seeming like an inexperienced teenager had returned, and that's where your first jealousy arose because you wished only you could have that side of him.

— And only for me, I'm sure — you grumbled under your breath at having that thought, and he laughed.

— I was born to love only you, believe me.— Apollo said, getting up and offering his hand to help you. — And just like art, I'll be faithful to you.

— Wow, what a great poet — you took his hand, and he took you by the waist, bending down to touch his nose to yours. You never believed in the expression "like a Greek god" until he looked at you in that way.

— Are you going to marry me? — He stroked your nose with his while gently squeezing your waist. You nodded silently like a fool, and he gave you a peck on the lips with a smirk. — I just wanted to make sure, but actually, I don't need any of that to be devoted to you. You're everything to me.

He took your hand and led you along the edge of the small Tiber, which now shone fervently.

•

— Apollo! — You shouted from the reception of the mansion on Olympus, closing the big door forcefully and looking at your husband playfully peeking behind his throne.

— Yes, dear? — You pursed your lips and approached him.

— Where are my things?

— Which ones? — He played dumb, and you sighed.

— From my bedroom at the university, where are they?

—In your room...— you raised an eyebrow — here.

You growled and pulled him to come out from behind the throne.

— I told you it would be until I graduated.

Apollo pouted and slumped his shoulders.

—But I miss you.

You smiled and hugged him.

— I miss you too, but— you stepped back and showed the ring on your ring finger —I have this, darling, and that's enough to scare off my classmates. I don't need to come down from Olympus every day when I can be in the dorms.

Apollo nodded regretfully.

— Alright, alright...— he snapped his fingers and smiled at you — everything is already in your silly university dorm.

You smiled and gave him a kiss. As you started making your way to the exit, he sighed.

— I'll see you tonight — he shouted, and you turned around smiling.

The Sun illuminates the beauty of the sea but never tries to contain it, and the sea shows the sun that even in the stormiest moments or the darkest nights, its light never fades.