#if there are mistakes no there arent
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voidy-core · 7 days ago
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Admiration
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arielluva · 5 months ago
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YURI!!!!🔥🔥🔥
couldn’t decide which version i liked better so i’m posting both
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You’re my favorite blog with an amazing costume and stellar art, so I hope to bestow upon you the small pleasure of asking you:
Trick or treat?
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Thank you very much! I'm incredibly honoured to be your favourite blog! I know this is late but please accept this treat, happy belated Halloween!
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3416 · 4 months ago
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The Best of 1634 at the 2025 4 Nations Face-Off (2.12-2.20)
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bitingdrivers · 1 month ago
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If you’re gonna write Maxiel, tattoo is the obvious one but I’m intrigued by what you could do with neon sign - 🧚🏻
hiii fairy anon!! hope you like this! from this post (you can still send prompts!!)
6. tattoo + 27. neon sign
Daniel found the profile on accident — it was recommended to him by his Instagram algorithm after he liked a reel of some guy inking an ugly upside down face on his own forearm. And then it was like the floodgates of random body art reels broke, dozens upon dozens tattoo accounts flooding Daniel's feed.
Sure, Daniel liked tattoos, he liked coming up with ideas for them, finding new artists, and listening to the tattoo gun buzz as new ink appeared on his skin. But he was never interested in the profession, or at least, not to this extent — during these couple of days, Daniel learned more about ink and body art than in all thirty years of his life.
After days of watching only tattooists reels on Insta, a post from a random tattoo shop account popped up on Daniel's feed. The post contained three pictures: a view into a window of a shop with a lit up orange neon sign that said The Lion, an arraignment of different tattoo equipment, and a photo of man — the tattoo artist — in the middle of inking someone's arm.
A very plain, run-of-the mill post from yet another tattoo parlor account that shouldn't have even caught Daniel's attention. Except for the fact that in the picture, the tattoo artist's skin was completely bare — no visible inks or piercings, nothing.
And sure, maybe the guy's tattoos were hidden under his clothes, or he simply didn't like getting inked himself, but after a week of watching videos of artists covered head to toe in black lines and bright colors, looking at the man's pale skin, covered in small freckles and remarkably untattooed, felt like seeing the sun in the sky above Milton Keynes — surpising and a little unsettling.
Before venturing to The Lion's account, Daniel expected that the guy would be an amateur, a beginner, why else would heave no tattoos. But no, his work was good, really good even — abstract and dynamic line work, bold and thin, monochrome and colorful, making his pieces look almost alive.
It's clear the guy has been in the craft for years, hundreds of comments under each of his posts praise his work, friends and other colleagues complimenting the man — Max — on yet another masterpiece. And Daniel has to agree, scrolling past photos of Max's designs, he too wants one of them inked on his skin.
But that still doesn't answer why Max himself doesn't have any tattoos — Daniel is a little ashamed to admit that he got fixated on it. Most of his time that is not occupied with training or racing, Daniel spends on Instagram, checking The Lion's page and trying to find at evidence of at least one tattoo.
Daniel tries to convince himself he isn't stalking Max. He isn't. He only checks The Lion's account, doesn't open any of Max's friends or family member's profiles, even after he notices Martin Garrix's comments under some posts.
Thankfully, Max is pretty active on his account, almost everyday a new post appears on The Lion's page: a new design, process of inking a new client, photos of the shop, all interspersed with pictures of Max: his angular but handsome face, light shot hair, strong arms and thighs, broad chest.
After weeks of following Max, Daniel begrudgingly has to admit to himself that he finds him attractive; that his quest to finding evidence of tattoos on Max's skin is partly an excuse to simply look at him.
A week into summer break, Daniel's phone buzzes with a new notification from Max's account. Daniel puts the sugary cocktail he's been drinking on the yacht deck and reaches for his phone.
Tapping on the notification, Daniel waits for Instagram to load. In the caption of the post, Max informs his followers that his shop will be closed for a month since Max is going on vacation. Daniel tries to suppress his disappointment as taps on the attached pictures.
The first photo is of Max's cats — Jimmy and Sassy, that sometimes make an appearance on the account — sleeping on a pile of clothes in an open suitcase.
The second picture shows a golden beach and deep blue water, glistening with rays of sunshine.
The third photo is clearly taken by someone else. It shows Max walking along the aquamarine water, smiling at the person behind the camera. Max is shirtless in the picture, his broad pale chest tapering into a slim waist.
Licking his lips, Daniel zooms in on the picture. His eyes catch on the band of Max's boxers peeking from under his baby blue shorts, or rather — on the skin above it. There, nestled right under Max's navel, is a tattoo, the same dynamic and delicate lines from his Max's other designs.
All of Daniel's blood rushes south as he's trying to process what he's seeing. It's not- a tramp stamp, because it's on Max's front, but it looks similar. The tattoo follows the lines of Max's hips and disappears under the band of his shorts. The design is abstract, or at least Daniel can't parse it, bold lines intertwined with thin ones.
Daniel picks up his cocktail glass from the deck, slippery from condensation, and takes a sip. His cheeks feel hot under the high summer sun, and the image of Max's tattoo is burned into his retinas as Daniel closes his eyes.
With a deep breath, Daniel thumbs open Max's profile and clicks on the DMs. He's been wanting to message Max for a while, debating getting his own tattoo on Max's style — and he finally finds the courage to start typing a message,
While searching for evidence of Max's tattoo, Daniel had noticed a few rainbow flags tucked into the corners of his shop and home. And Max had never mentioned a- partner before, so.
Worth a try.
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lem0nicle · 7 months ago
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humphrey my beloved
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laswells-ashtray · 15 days ago
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*rolls in and hands this from another dm*
Rudy and Ale, with Laswell's HC that Rudy was raised by Sisters (nuns). And just never had that father figure in his life, so he shoots down anyone who tried to put him in that type of position even if it is as trivial as calling him Papi. He has an instant and visceral ick go through him. It's why he doesn't really go for girls or younger guys. And when he's so fucking done when he meets Ale.
Waiting for that P word to escape the man's mouth only to get an instant boner so fast he almost blacks out when Ale jokingly calls him Mami, and Ale being Ale he pegged that shit and his reaction down immediately. And it's been history ever since.
*rolls away like a tumbleweed*
I wondered when we were gonna break Alejandro's thing for calling Rudy Mami to the public.
Alejandro jokingly calls Rudy "Papi" once near the start of their relationship. Rudy glares back at him before dryly informing him, "If I were your Papi, I would've walked out on you." Alejandro gets so unbelievably horny that he spends the next three days jerking off to the memory because he likes it when Rudy's mean.
Calling Rudy "Mami" is a joke. He cuts open his finger, and the other man insists on running his hand under water, carefully drying it and then gently sticking a plaster to his fingertip. He doesn't expect the shudder he's met with, but it doesn't escape him either.
That's the same shudder he saw the first time he sucked on one of Rudy's nipples after taking a clamp off of it. That's the shudder that's typically followed by a truly obscene moan before one of them gets splattered with cum. That's Rudy's "I resent that you make me horny" shudder.
And so he uses this information sparingly and responsibly.
Like waiting until Rudy's sitting on their kitchen counter, his legs wrapped around Alejandro's waist as he begs the sergeant major to fuck his face because he's been so well behaved today and he truly deserves it.
The lack of succession is what drives him to it, gripping the back of Rudy's neck and leaning into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before utterly a gravelly, "Please, Mami."
The moan as Rudy's hips twitch, bulge grinding up against Alejandro's abdomen, is heavenly to the colonel. As is getting his face fucked to the point of tears, choking and cumming in his pants.
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toujoursrab · 11 months ago
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Prompt: Eerie | Pairing: Jegulus (@into-the-jeggyverse) | Word Count: 529
When Regulus returned home from his shift at St. Mungo’s, he expected to be met with controlled chaos. Harry’s toys all over the sitting room floor, Peppa Pig playing loudly on the muggle TV and mixing in with the Hamilton soundtrack coming from the kitchen (because it was James’ night to cook and he couldn’t do it without music). Instead he was met with an eerie silence, walking through the house wondering if anyone was actually home. He didn’t even step on a Lego as he made his way into the sitting room. “Haz? Jamie?” The TV was off, the room was oddly clean. Even Harry’s fingerpaints from this morning were cleaned up and his artwork most likely hung up on their fridge.
The Healer turned on his heel, leaving the sitting room and making his way to the kitchen. Much like the previous room, the kitchen was entirely clean. James rarely cleaned up right after he cooked, so the kitchen was always a mess when the professional Quidditch player put it to use. Regulus was just about to leave the room and head for the bedrooms next, when a vase of flowers sitting there on the counter caught his eye. A dozen red roses, a classic, but also his favorite flower. A smile formed on his lips as he picked up the card in front of them addressed to Regulus. It was simple a ‘Happy Anniversary, love. Yours always, James’. He scrunched up his nose in confusion because it wasn’t their anniversary.
Before Regulus could think much of it, he heard a set of footsteps followed by a pair of arms wrapping around his middle. He leaned back into his husband’s warm embrace, setting the card he was holding down on the counter. “The flowers are beautiful, Jamie, but it’s not our anniversary for another three months.”
James kissed the side of Regulus’ neck, lips lingering as he spoke into the other’s smooth skin. “You agreed to go out with me exactly five years ago today. It’s an anniversary worth celebrating.”
“Wow, can’t believe I forgot especially when we celebrate it every year.” They didn’t, obviously. His tone was laced with a teasing sarcasm only Regulus could pull off. Regulus had no recollection of the day he finally agreed to go on a date with James, but he didn’t doubt the other knew the exact date. What Regulus did remember of that day, James had been so elated, when he left, he walked right into a light pole, the impact enough to break his glasses.
“Don’t worry about it.” James replied cheekily as Regulus tilted his head to press their lips together in a series of soft kisses. “You have me to remind you.”  When James finally released his hold on Regulus, he turned so they were facing each other. Regulus reached for James’s hands to hold. “Haz is with Lils for the weekend, I set up a romantic candlelit dinner in the garden. Will you join me, Mr. Potter?”
The corners of Regulus’ lips upturned into a bright smile. “I would love to, Mr. Potter.”  He leaned up and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.
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gece-misin-nesin · 2 years ago
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Do you ever think about how horrible of a title "Batman's Greatest Failure" is? How degrading and dehumanising? Everything you achieved in life is forgotten and reduced to the way it ended.
You aren't a person. You are a failure. Your whole life is pushed aside and made a part of someone else's life story. You never mattered, if it weren't for that person you would have meant nothing at all.
Aren't you glad? Aren't you glad you are remembered as something? Even if that something is just saying your whole existence equals just to a mistake in someone's life? An old page that everyone is so desperate to forget. A lapse in judgement. A regret. The people you saved, the people you loved, what you did in life, none of that matters. All that matters is how another person was affected by your death. That is all you will ever be. Everything you did and didn't do will always be irrevocably tied to that person, for better or worse.
You are unable to exist without that person and the only way for you to exist is through his perception of you. The only way for others to see you is to look at you through his biased interpretations of who you were.
You weren't a child or a hero or a martyr or a son or a victim. All you ever were, and will be, is someone's "Greatest Failure".
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lunarharp · 4 months ago
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separate lesbionic scrap post...agott kind of based on how i had a dream that hozier posted online (i don't follow hozier.) that witch hat atelier is wonderful and he only read it because of me but no-one believed me i wouldnt lie about this
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loverboykirstein · 5 months ago
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After biting the bullet i just need to ask for more sam🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ im in love with the way u wrote it.
Preferably with dom sam and afab reader. If u write stuff like it maybe some high confessions to esch other that turn into smut. The thought of sam doing everything to pleasure her outside of sex but him being quite greedy while doing it makes me go crazy so if it could be something like this, i would actually marry u in an instant😭
I never requested anything like this so i hope this is okey!! If u have some questions please please text me about it🙇‍♀️ i hope u have a lovely day whenever u may see this and thank u for your writing.
hello my love, ask and you shall receive ᯓᡣ𐭩
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smoke sessions // dom!sam
sam (sdv) x afab!reader
wc: 7832
mdni -> unprotected sex, overstimulation, referenced past trauma/ab*sive relationships, teasing, oral (f receiving), drug use (marijuana)
*** it wasn’t until your story was over that you realized how much you had smoked, way more than you had told yourself you would, everything moving just a little bit slower. 
he had already rolled another, kept his eyes locked on you as he grabbed two small bottles of wine out of your fridge, scratching the roots of your hair for a split second on his way back to his too-close position on your worn out couch. 
your drowsy eyes lingering too long on him, heartbeat in your throat as you caught his, staring back at you with those stupid eyes and that stupid face and you couldn’t figure out why it was suddenly so hot in the room and why your hands were kind of clammy and- 
oh. oh. 
fuck. 
“so,” he finally blinked, snapping the rubber band on his wrist. 
“so,” you giggled, unable to help the sheer amount of nervousness running through you, like a teenager in… 
…love…? ***
 ᥫ᭡。
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★🎸🎧⋆。 °⋆
“good GOD sam what the FUCK?!” you yelled at him, half to tears as you held your purple sword between the two of you. 
eyes puffy and red, voice cracking as your fragile hands struggled with the weight of crashing adrenaline. 
“two thing- three things,” he sighed, kicking his shoes off and lining them up by the door. 
“one, since when have you had this fucking beast,” he laughed, taking your sword from your hands and placing it back by your door. 
“two, you gave me a key to your house, dumbass,” you looked at his keys, still in the door. classic. no wonder he just now came around. 
“three, since when do you not answer your phone?”. 
ah. that thing. 
“actually, one more thing, why the hell are you crying?” 
damn it. 
“sam i-”. 
“also, when was the last time you ate? or showered or-”
“sam i kno-”. 
“you scared me half to death you kn-”. 
“SAMSON,”. 
you had never once raised your voice at him, or anyone in the valley for that matter. you scared yourself, covering your face as soon as you said it. 
looking at each other like a deer in the headlights, frozen in time. 
“i’m sorry i-” you started the clock again, gravity no longer struggling against the weight of the silence your cabin held. 
“no no im sorry i shouldn’t have i-” he sighed, turning around and walking out your front door. 
fuck. fuck fuck fuck. why do i fucking ruin everything every goddamn ti- 
three knocks on your door, not even fully closed, stopping your tears from falling again. 
“hi, can i come in?” he poked his head around the opening, shit eating grin plastered on his face. 
all you could do was laugh, the first time you had laughed in a while. in a long fucking time. 
you waved him in, body already heavy enough on its own, begging to be held in the corner of your couch, not even bothering to make the trek to your bedroom most nights. 
“can we start with one question at a time?” he practically pleaded, the softest you had heard his voice in months. 
a silent nod, not even bothering to sit up all the way. 
you didn’t want to answer anything, you didn’t want to talk at all. 
“where have you been?” you could feel the pain in his voice, nearly snapping like a string pulled too tight, strummed one too many times. 
“aw not even gonna ask me about my sword? lame,” you huffed, hoping you would be able to avoid the inevitable just a little bit longer. 
“okay fine, since when have you had that fucking beast?” 
a small tug on your lips, knowing he would eventually always come around and cave in. 
you found the strength to sit up, knowing his favorite stories were yours from the mines. his eyes would always glimmer, the most animated faces that could bring a laugh out of anyone, even George. 
“wait- before you start, you down?” he held up his fake headphone case, and you knew exactly what he had brought. 
“sam you are god in the flesh yes please,”. 
he raised an eyebrow at you, a small laugh under his breath as he unzipped the case that you knew would bring an ounce of relief, one that wouldn’t leave you begging for mercy and ginger ale as you opened your eyes. 
was it the best idea? probably not. your self-inflected cage near impossible to hold on to, each drag another lock undone. 
your mouth moved faster than your brain, begging soul and childish heart trying to take their chance at escape.
 to be heard, by more than tile in your shower, by more than your chickens who obviously didn’t know what you were ever saying. by the seeds you planted, the rocks you broke open. by someone. 
i can keep it together. yeah, a couple drags won’t hurt. just enough to stop crying for a bit. that’s the last thing he needs to see. 
“here,” he handed you the perfectly wrapped blunt, sealed with a swipe of his tongue and calloused fingertips. 
his hands a little shaky, silver rings along his fingers worn from prolonged wear, same tarnished look as the bracelets you’d never once seen him take off. 
“you got a light?” you asked, looking around to see if you had one lying around, too lazy to make a designated home for most of the things inside your near empty cabin. 
in a single flick of his thumb, the lighter you gifted him on a whim ignited in his hand. wrapped in a watercolor mix of blues and greens, the same colors as his eyes. 
he never put two and two together,  but when Pam had stopped by the only liquor store between the valley and the desert, of course you joined her. 
met at the counter with a few snacks you hoped would keep you awake in the mines, as well as some drinks for after,  the colors flashed in the corner of your eye, placing it in front of the weathered cashier before she could tell you your total. 
you couldn’t figure out why you bought it so quickly until you saw him next, mouth running dry at the thought. you hadn’t done that for sebastian, or abigail, for anyone, and you weren’t nearly as close to him as you were to his best friends. well, at the time. 
before the concert happened, the four of you were nearly inseparable. rushing to get your farm work done by the early afternoon, enough time to yourself before you would all settle in sebastian’s room, nearly yelling at each other over a never ending game at his table. 
that’s when things flipped upside down, sideways, and every which way other than level, fight or flight activated since. a mix of both, really, settling on a third option of avoidance and breakdown, burying yourself in the hole you didn’t realize you were almost out of. 
a hastily written letter in your mailbox, stating you had to be at the bus stop by 4, no later, plans for the day flipped upside down. 
you hadn’t been to a concert in forever, and for their band? you wouldn’t miss that for the world. 
it didn’t help that there was something different about him when he was on stage, a sultry kind of confidence that made your heart beat funny and your stomach flip. 
comfortable, like he really did belong on a stage, born for it. eyes glued to yours for a little too long, verses ending in near whines, others in heart wrenching screams, the truest form of him you had ever seen. 
that stupid smirk on his face as he did it, really selling the show. he was made for it, it came naturally. you weren’t sure how the other girls at the show weren’t fawning over him, hoping to grab his attention and sneak backstage. 
when he pulled his eyes off you to focus on his bright red guitar, energy radiating off of him as if he couldn’t stay still for a second longer, even if he tried, you were startled back to the present. 
a slight weight on your chest when the air finally came back to your lungs, as if you had been holding it that whole time. 
a tingling under your skin, fingertips buzzing with god knows what, surely just the reverberation from the speakers, right? 
too lost in the show to remember you were in a crowd, just about everyone to your back. guard down, brain fuzzy. 
disappointed that their set ended so soon, or it at least felt like it did, the three of them walking behind the curtain and out of your sight. 
then he tapped your shoulder before you could even turn around, the one who pushed you to the valley in the first place. 
the final straw, leaving with your phone and your wallet, and anything of importance inside a single duffle bag, you took the key from the letter you finally unsealed at your desk. 
you wished you had opened it so much sooner, to visit him in his fragile state, hell to see him for the first time in over a decade. but he still managed to mail you that letter, somehow figuring out the correct address. 
you didn’t open the letter until you felt like it, forgetting it in your desk drawer as it was the only place you could keep anything mostly private. 
a locked journal, grandpa’s letter, and a mess of papers and sticky notes, poor attempts at keeping your work in some kind of order, too many projects and a skeleton crew. all about profit, don’t give a single shit about us, figures. 
one fight too many, the lowest blows he had ever thrown your way. you would have sworn you killed a man with the way he spoke down to you, all because he found out your new supervisor was a younger man. 
it didn’t matter that you explained he didn’t even live in Zuzu, had a beautiful family, and had only spoken to you via email, you were ruining everything. 
you were the problem, the worst disease the universe had ever known, an ungrateful liar who was lucky to have him. 
you mirrored your mother too much, or maybe your father, a disappointment at best, too broken and scarred to be loved by anything at all. let alone sincerely. 
you were too difficult, too much. emotional, crazy, worthless. and you were lucky to have him, after all he swore up and down that he was the only one who would ever put up with you. 
the words you could eat, swallow them down, throw them up behind closed doors. they would spill out mixed with bile and tears, the bathroom fan and shower running to hide enough of the noise. 
a never ending cycle, to sit down, shut up, and learn your place. to do as you were told, to look the way you were told, to be what you were told. but when his palm swiped clear across your face, you couldn’t stomach it. 
you were just so easy to mold into whatever he pleased, never given the chance to grow a spine, just a bundle of nerves and blood on the floor. 
living in greyscale, you weren’t even sure if you were alive. and you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to be. 
so when a year of color, vibrant and warm, shut down at the turn of your head, so did you. 
you had nearly forgotten entirely, building yourself up, to some degree at least. able to walk, to get out of bed every day, to do things you never thought possible. a fairytale, in a way. 
“long time no see, huh?” his eyes were the same swirling mess you remembered, each word pulling out another vertebrae of your makeshift spine you built without direction. 
linked in all the wrong places, nerves all jumbled up. and it hurt like a goddamn bitch to have them pulled out so rough, shattering in his grasp. 
“didn’t think you could leave forever, could you? blocking all my numbers only got you so far. see you’ve turned into quite the whore haven’t you? did i teach you nothing?” 
circling, spinning, dizzy, fainting, everything in between and nothing at all. you didn’t know where you were, devoid of color and vision blurred no matter how fucking hard you tried. 
lungs empty, collapsing as he clawed his way through your chest to break you down again. 
you couldn’t remember how, or when you got back to the valley, all you could do was mimic other forms, using the chatter of the people who accepted you as one of them, poorly shoving yourself into a unrecognizable form scarred to the brink of death. 
you had lied to sam over and over and over, saying you had come down with something, you had a lot of stuff to catch up on, any half-assed excuse you could to hide your truest form away. 
to slip back into all your bad habits, only taking enough time to do the bare necessities for the farm and the animals, not bothering with much else. 
too much happening to begin to comprehend, endless pit of dread  on top of so many feelings that left you confused and scared in a good way, sam’s unwavering stare on that stage replaying over and over, so many conflicting wires that your system crashed and all the circuits burned out. 
blocking every number until your ears nearly bled, over and over and over, unknown numbers driving you insane. 
paranoid that he would find you, that a piece of him had followed you, it was just too fucking much. 
you didn’t even know how long it had really been, a week, a month? 
you didn’t feel human anymore, you hadn’t since that earth shattering ending. 
but there it was, color, in the form of flame illuminating the eyes that matched the vessel in his hand, waiting for you to lean in and pull the smoke in. 
frozen, blunt between your shaking fingers, your ears stopped their ringing. 
“are you-” he tilted his head to the side, eyebrows slightly pulled together as he watched your face with so much intent. 
blinking hard, remembering that he couldn’t read your mind, that you were probably freaking him out for no good reason, you nodded your head and brought the kindest of offerings to your lips. 
“you’re a shit liar, i hope you know that,” he almost laughed, that stupid fucking smile on his face as he watched yours, and you swore you burned alive on the spot. 
hyper focused, holding that damned lighter to the end, watching as you pulled the smoke in, filling your lungs you didn’t think you had anymore. 
trying your best to remember to take it slow, handing it off to him after your first long inhale, the sweetest hint of vanilla at the end. 
he remembered? 
it was the same taste as it was that first time you hung out for real, out by the quarry for no good reason. just talking, so much talking, hands in pockets and steps slow, following nothing at all, just the urge to keep silence at bay a little bit longer. 
that evening a core memory, all happy afterwards. the first time you weren’t carrying around the weight of disaster on your shoulders, on your chest. 
“alright, nowwwww,” he said through some heavy breathing, smoke held for a little too long. 
“okay, okay fine,”. 
you tried your best to make the tale exciting, about the serpents you fought and how you found that first prismatic shard. 
that there was some sort of magic in the desert, a hint left on the cave walls to make an offering to whoever was out there, the best sword you had ever laid eyes on. 
was the purple a little obnoxious? sure, but it was also a reminder of your strength, at least enough to find one of the rarest minerals out there, something you were able to do on your own. 
it wasn’t until your story was over that you realized how much you had smoked, way more than you had told yourself you would, everything moving just a little bit slower. 
he had already rolled another, kept his eyes locked on you as he grabbed two small bottles of wine out of your fridge, scratching the roots of your hair for a split second on his way back to his too-close position on your worn out couch. 
your drowsy eyes lingering too long on him, heartbeat in your throat as you caught his, staring back at you with those stupid eyes and that stupid face and you couldn’t figure out why it was suddenly so hot in the room and why your hands were kind of clammy and- 
oh. oh. 
fuck. 
“so,” he finally blinked, snapping the rubber band on his wrist. 
“so,” you giggled, unable to help the sheer amount of nervousness running through you, like a teenager in… 
…love…? 
“listen, i’m sorry i scared you, i really didn’t mean to, i just got worried, y’know?” he shrugged, clouded in what seemed like…embarrassment? 
“it’s okay, i should have told you, i-”
“did i do something wrong? if i said something you should’ve just slapped me or something y-”
“no, no no, it wasn’t anything you did, i promise,” you grabbed his hand, like it was an instinct or something, trying your best to make it clear to him that it really wasn’t his fault at all. 
it made your stomach flutter, brain stop working for a second. you dropped it after a second too long, clearing your throat after. 
“what’s going on, then? i can’t just sit here and know somethings wrong and not at least try and do something, i just-”
“okay, okay, but you keep this between us okay?” your eyes pleaded, begging him to keep that part of you away from everyone, everything. 
what am i doing? 
“yes ma’am,” he nodded, nothing but seriousness in his voice, adjusting towards you to express his full attention, something he could rarely do. 
unable to meet his eyes, you worked up the nerve, or whatever it was holding you back, to yank on the string holding your pride together. you placed it in his hand, unraveled, bloodied, gone for good. 
it wasn’t linear, a jumbled mess of words spilling out faster than you could catch them. every syllable foreign to you, telling some sort of story that didn’t seem to have much plot, back and forth between before and after, you weren’t even sure. 
you were so fucking scared, never telling a soul about the years you spent in your own little hell, never even bothering to ask for help.
so small, so frail, spilling out all the nastiest parts of your memory, your being, onto your living room floor. a mess you weren’t sure how to clean up, stains permanent in the hardwood. 
but through it all you were so busy thinking about the nerves that wracked through you, suffocated by his fixated stare, holding that stupid string to your pride so delicately in his hand, just in case you wanted it back. 
you knew you couldn’t have it back, too deformed in your gutted state, embarrassed and ashamed of who you claimed to be, fraudulent identity and all. 
but it wasn’t the way your vocal cords spit the leftover bits of your soul out, it was realizing how close he was, and how the way he was looking at you made you feel hot. 
how grabbing his hand for a moment in time made you feel awkward, catching you off guard. 
the overwhelming heat of it all, face scalding, stammering your words into makeshift sentences, if you could even call them that. 
“so, um, yeah. als-” don’t say anything else don’t don’t don’t. 
“you’ve been here this whole time, alone, and petrified? you know i would’ve come stay with you, or help on the farm or something,” he spoke soft and stern, a bubbly sort of mix that made you hiccup. “he lives in Zuzu? what part?” 
his eyes squinted a little, knuckles white in angered fists, unnoticed before. how long have they been like that? 
“south side, right off the main highway. kinda by the..” 
right by the skatepark. 
“skatepark”. 
you nodded silently, connecting the fact that they probably know each other. 
“i’ll take care of it. don’t worry,”. he handed you a gentle smile, a cover up for his tensed jaw and hard blinks. “and i’ll get’cha a new phone, number, all that good stuff, m’kay,”. 
he’s just…being really nice? 
you tried your best to ignore that same feeling bubbling in your chest, the butterflies, the tingling in your fingers, the nerves. 
“you don’t have to, it’s okay i really sh-”
“hush. let me take care of you,”. 
seven words that melted into you on contact, seeping into your bloodstream like chaos. 
he…wants to take care…of me? 
“sam i-”
“ah ah ah- shush, missy,”. he inched a little closer, pointing a playful finger in your face, just to tap it on the tip of your nose. 
he’s…fuck what the hell is going on with me? 
“i want to take care of you, i’d walk to the ends of the damn earth if it meant you didn’t go MIA again,”. 
where is this coming from? am i hearing things? 
“you’ve carried all…this…your whole life. let me help, ‘kay?” 
how do i set it down? how do i let you take this knowing how hard it is to bear? 
why do you care so much? 
don’t you have your own things to worry about? what about vincent? your dad? yourself? 
for me? i haven’t done anything in return, i just, what is going ON. 
“i care because-” 
oh my god did i say that out loud ?
“yes, you did, can you listen to me for a minute, angel?” 
angel? who- i- wait a minute. 
“hey, look at me,” he grabbed your hand, mirroring your grasp from earlier, except his was steady and strong, no sign of letting go. 
“listen, i didn’t want to ruin anything, but i-”
oh my god i’m fucking- 
“sam i think im in love with you,”. 
shit. 
out of breath, startled, frozen in fear at your lack of restraint, lack of control. first you hand him your pride, and then admit what you’d been pushing down this whole time? 
so desperate to be heard, and he had open ears the whole time. 
you didn’t want to be a burden, the one who only always brought the mood down, the one everyone felt like they needed to worry about. choosing to push it down, push it away, so that they didn’t. 
but you’d been pushing this down too, nervous system sounding the alarms when feelings that even resembled something romantic began to surface, real or not. 
you denied every comment from abigail, seb, alex, even vincent, thinking they were just trying to set you up because you guys got along. 
really well. 
and hung out all the time. 
but this, you at your lowest, pride removed, walls crumbled, truest form you could show, mixed with a mouth that ran a little bit faster than your brain did, overflowing before you even knew what you were saying. 
your hand still in his, breath held as you waited for one of two life altering answers. to keep him by you, or for things to be uncomfortable from this moment forward. 
what the fuck was i thinking? what if he doesn’t feel the same? oh god what about penny- god am i a fucking moron? 
“oh thank fucking god,” he sighed, yanking you from your awkward distance from him to his lap, the tightest hug ever known, his face buried in the crook of your neck. 
in something near fantasy, the gravity stopped again, but this time to watch as its work finally paid off, no longer playing tug of war with your souls to make one of you confess. 
wrapping your fingers in his hair at the base of his head, praying that nothing would tear him away even if the entire valley was on fire. 
“i don’t think you know how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” his breath tickled the exposed skin of your neck, pulling nothing but a few small giggles out of your chest. 
“mmm since you were eye-fucking me at the show?” you don’t know where this buzzing confidence came from, another sentence too fast for your rationale to halt. 
“well yes, but, more like right after that night at the quarry,”. 
“that was like, almost a year ago!” you pulled back to get a look at his face, hoping it would be a blushing mess, that you would get to see that beaming smile you loved so dearly. 
your drawback reluctantly pulling him away from your skin, his face was cocky. 
“i know,” he said it so, certain, like you just told him the sky was blue. “i knew you’d be mine. didn’t have to rush a thing,”. 
“oh? and how’d you know that?” you tilted your head a little to the side, eyebrow raised, acting like you didn’t feel the same, that you do remember that night like it was yesterday. 
“oh please,” he rolled his eyes, drama queen, “you think i couldn’t tell?” 
“oh what ever,” you scoffed, unaware that you were really doing anything to make it obvious, hell it wasn’t even obvious to you. 
“you’re cute,” he kissed the tip of your nose, pulling you back in as if he was afraid to lose you, arms wrapped so tight that it felt like he was putting you back together. 
“shush,” you mumbled into his ear, breath hot on his neck, swearing you felt him shiver at the feeling. 
“mmm, nah, don’t think so,” you felt him pinch at your sides a little, making you squirm around in his lap a little too much, your giggles filling his heart to the brim, spilling over and filling his lungs with such warmth he didn’t know how to contain it. 
but he knew what he was doing, knowing you were ticklish at the sides, holding back a faint groan at the innocence of your actions, the mild amount of friction making his stoned brain all fuzzy. 
first, you said those words he had been dying to hear, second, here you were in his lap, giggling into his ear and hips flush with his. 
he couldn’t stop it, the tent in his pants obvious in a matter of seconds. 
and of course you couldn’t hold back the slight gasp as you felt it press against you, the smallest little moan as you settled into it. 
the two of you sat in silence for a moment, waiting for the other to say something, to do something. 
making up his mind, his hands gripped your hips hard, moving your achy little cunt against his length. 
a hum reverberated in your chest, settling into the slow ruts, his hands guiding the way. 
“feel good, princess?” his voice an octave lower, settling perfectly down in your core. 
“mhmm,” you tried to go a little faster, a little harder, something. “wan’ more,”. 
“yeah? use your words baby,”. his grip in full control, holding back your attempt to satiate the need that seemingly came out of nowhere. 
you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been touched by someone else, just the occasional work of your fingers as your mind wandered, letting it take you wherever it wanted. 
being high, being nervous made it feel all the more overwhelming, body encased in his scent and subtly dominate disposition. 
“wan’ more of you, please,”. 
he let your hips roll harder, longer, just a few times before he held you still again, frustrated whimper spilling from your lips. 
“sammyyy, quit bein’ mean,”. his grip too firm, too steady, nothing but a devilish giggle in his throat. 
“you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?” 
you could tell his restraint was slipping, needing those words of approval from you before he made you his, before he gave into his greedy nature and take what was his all along. 
“yes, please sammy, wanna feel ya,”. 
you didn’t recognize yourself, begging with such pity that his eyes grew tenfold, tummy pulling tight at the complete control you handed him so easily. 
one swift move, pushing himself off the couch while wrapping your legs around him, your giggles bouncing around in his skull at a million miles an hour. 
he moved with such haste, desperate to hear you, to feel you, to see you fall apart under him, to claim you for good. 
he laid you down on your bed, gently resting your frame against the plush mattress. the only light in the room was your bedside lamp and the moonlight seeping through your windows, the two of you the only bodies left on earth. 
“promise you’ll be good f’me?” he purred in your ear, fingertips dancing on your thighs. 
“mhm, i will,”. nodding with frustration, willing to do just about anything to satiate the fire already consuming your walls, twitching around nothing at all. 
your beady eyes so innocently begging, completely unaware of the man you were bringing out of him, something downright feral. 
“good girl,” he swiped his tongue across his top teeth, sharpened canines shimmering under the dim lights. 
the phrase stirred something up inside you, eyes wide and pleading, body his. 
crawling on top of you, he pulled you up the mattress, looking down at the exposed skin of your tummy, the sudden tightness of your shirt barely hiding a thing. 
his hand brushing up against your clothed clit, just enough pressure to make the frustration slither down to the tips of your toes. 
“sammyyy,” you whined with a puppy dog stare, bottom lip jutted to really sell it to him. 
“yes?” that stupid smirk on his face, every move calculated as if he’d rehearsed it a hundred times over. 
“please touch me,”. you couldn’t sound any more desperate, almost pathetic, just the way he wanted you. 
“i am touching you, my love,”. 
his purrs were criminal, so thick that it saturated your bloodstream, your brain forced into slow motion. 
“asshole,” you whimpered, trying to grab his wrist and move him where you wanted, too desperate to play the teasing game. 
“excuse me?” he shook his wrist free, grabbing the sides of your face and forcing you to look into the blown out pupils of his, so sickeningly exciting. “that’s not how we get what we want now, is it?” 
“i know you want it too,” you kept whining, eyes glossy in need, pushing your thighs together in hopes it would do something. 
“be careful what you wish for, darling,”. the laugh he barely let out was almost sinister, he knew how badly you wanted it, and how he was going to abuse that. 
he sat up straight, yanking your shorts and underwear off in one swift motion, pushing one of your thighs open with his knee that was once at your side. 
your top teeth bruising your bottom lip, holding back a giggle that was mixed with every emotion you could think of, all of it bubbling in your chest. 
the middle finger of his right hand swiping up your slit as he came back down, greedy lips wanting yours again. 
your body melting into his touch, gentle traces driving you fucking. insane. 
“more-” you tried to beg through his feverish kisses, barely giving you enough room to breathe. so in unison, in tune, made for each other. 
as he swallowed up your words, you felt his long finger dip inside you, just past your begging hole that was so desperate to be filled. 
your whimpers settling on his tongue, sweet enough to give him a sugar rush, to make him crave so much more, you were driving him insane. 
the amount of nights he had fucked his fist to the idea of you, to the sight of you in that too-short skirt you wore at the festival of the moonlight jellies, ocean breeze exposing just a little too much, completely unknowing. 
the way the dress you adorned on spirits eve pushed your tits up, nearly spilling out as he jumpscared you in the depths of the maze. 
the shirts you wore at game nights, perfume clouding his every move as it radiated off of your pulse points. a little too low cut, a little too big, on full display to him as you leaned over the table. 
the blush on your face when you gifted him every single time, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you looked up at him for approval. 
and the swimsuit you wore at the beach, sitting next to him as he watched vincent play in the water, instantly throbbing as he watched you oblige to his little brothers wishes for you to come play with him. 
the urge to make you a mother right then and there, watching your top hold on for dear life as you lifted vincent out of the water and throwing him back in, your ass on full display as your back was turned to him. 
you drove him fucking crazy. every time you got a little to close to alex, hell even seb, something hot boiled under his flesh, jealousy. 
you were his, whether you knew that or not. he wouldn’t have it any other way. 
and here you were under him, tight walls wrapped around his finger, begging him for more more more. 
a dream, no less, you were finally where he wanted you this whole time, since the first time he laid eyes on you. 
“still wan’ more?” he whispered in your ear, peppering kisses on the side of your neck as he began to pump in and out of you, sigh of relief spilling from your parted lips. 
you nodded, eyes closed, soaking in everything you could. 
you felt his teeth sink into the spots he so gently kissed, sucking bruises dark enough to last for days in spots impossible to cover, down until he was halted by the collar of your shirt. 
a frustrated whimper from your lungs as he pulled his finger out of you, tearing your shirt off in a blur, goosebump ridden skin on full display. 
every inch of you exposed to him in the dim lighting, ethereal. 
“good god you are beautiful,” breathtaking, his words nearly a whisper, trailing kisses down your torso. 
hooded eyes looked up at you as he dressed every inch of you in admiration, practically praising the ground you walked on. 
he would give you the world if you asked, hell the whole universe and everything beyond it. 
at this moment in time, all he wanted to do was fuck you senseless, to make you finish on him again and again and again even after you swore it was too much. 
a babbling mess, shaking, marked up, his. 
as his kisses lead to the bottom of your stomach, flush with your hips, the silver dog-tag chain he promised to never take off grazed against your heat, the metal ice cold. 
he looked up at you with hunger, a man starved for days waiting for the chance to satiate his thirst. a single nod, teeth tugging on your kiss-bitten bottom lip. 
and god did he give you more, drinking you up before you could take back your approval, heaven sent. 
his tongue writing i love you’s and i want you’s all over, teasing your greedy hole that was desperately waiting to be filled with him. 
he was messy, your slick all over him, forgetting to breathe. his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs, fingers nearly turning white at the pressure. 
he let you trap him, encase him in your grasp, gasps that held moans hostage the strength he needed to forget every human need, the only thing on his mind was to please. 
your fingers tangled up in his hair, pushing his head into you as if he could get any closer. 
as his tongue lapped at your swollen cunt, his nose pressed against your clit, pulling that ache in your core a little closer, the knot a little tighter.  
he could tell by the growing arch in your back, the pressure in which your thighs encased him, the heightened pace of your whimpers. 
he wouldn’t stop even if the whole world relied on it, you were so close at just the work of his tongue, the mild vibrations from his moans, the sting of his fingers losing feeling on your thighs. 
“b-baby- pl-please don’t s-stop,”. your words choppy and mere stutters, cut off by the swirl his tongue made around your swollen clit, just to find its way back to your sopping hole. 
he listened, that was his plan, he wasn’t going to stop. not until your body remembered every inch of him, knew it belonged to him. 
another string on his guitar pulled a little too tight, you came, and came hard. 
fighting against the grip he had on you, tugging on the thick blonde strands wrapped around your fingers, trying your best to grind against his face, but he listened, not. stopping. 
incoherent words mixed in with your breathless moans and high pitched whimpers, rutting his own hips against your mattress as he drank up every drop you had to offer him, the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. 
he slowly pulled away as your legs began to calm, a moment of peace as you caught your breath for a short second. 
“s’fuckin good,” hunger only fueled by the meal you had offered him, he needed more of you, and he needed it now. 
he pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor before taking his place on top of you again, missing his lips on yours. 
the light glimmered on him, toned and strong, adorned with piercings you had no idea he had. 
dermals placed carefully on his hips, metal bars through his nipples, you were drooling. 
his mouth on yours, sharing the taste of you as he groped every inch of you he could. 
swallowing up your moans, you needed him and you needed him now. 
reaching down, you unbuckled his belt, jeans right after. 
his queue to strip, to expose himself as much as you, eyes stuck to you as he adjusted to yank his jeans down in unison with his boxers. 
his dick slapped against him, your eyes widening as a sliver of fear shook your heart, knowing it would be a stretch. 
as expected, a piercing adorned his dripping tip, all red and swollen and begging. 
“sammy please,” you whimpered as he rubbed his thumb over his leaking head, eyes hooded and breath heavy. 
“please what, baby?” he hummed, lining himself up to your throbbing cunt, tracing his head up and down your slit, so slow you thought your heart might collapse. 
“just fuck me already,” you barked, patience run thin and you swore you would die right then and there if he didn’t fuck you stupid. 
thrill and fear mixed in your throat, slack-jawed as he began to dip inside, the sting of the stretch making your body run hot, whimpers of pain as you adjusted to his sheer size. 
“you can take it, baby, can’t you?” 
he mustered up every ounce of strength he had to sound collected, even though the grip of your walls was breaking him apart. 
so warm, so wet, so much better than he could have ever dreamt. 
“ ‘s a lot,” unsure of even yourself, could you really take it?
one hand of his leaving his fingerprints on your bones, the other grabbed the sides of your face, forcing your glossed over eyes to face his, to listen. 
“isn’t this what you begged for, dirty girl?” the cockiest look on his face, forcing you to look at him as he inched his way inside, swallowing him up so perfectly, fingers pressing your teeth against the insides of your cheeks. 
your face ran hot, embarrassed at your sudden defeat, your cunt obviously wanting more. 
more, more, more. 
“use your words, bunny, c’mon,” he pressed his forehead against yours, teeth sharp as they barely held back a cruel laugh that was simmering all the way down to his cock. 
“mhm, y-yes,” you were able to mumble out of your lips that were smushed together, a slight nod against his too-tight grip. 
“are you going to be good?” 
without a second to respond, a single buck of his hips as he bruised the sweetest bit of your cervix. you swore he was in your throat, so incredibly full. 
head falling back into the rustled up blankets, one of your legs swung over his broad shoulder, going deeper. 
the moans he rattled out of you were beyond unholy, something you didn’t even think you were capable of. 
your gummy walls sucked him off so well, molded to the shape of him upon entry. 
your body didn’t feel real. each thrust of need, desperation, a year's worth of pent up feelings spilling out at the expense of your sopping wet pussy. 
“s’ fuckin tight my god,”. his tone was downright feral, teeth pinned together as strands of his hair fell onto his forehead. 
he looked so strong, teaching your cells that you belonged to him now. 
“don’t get all- f-fucking hell, shy on me, c-c’mon,”. barely able to process his words, so lost in the high of his cock pounding into you over, and over, and over again, like his damn life depended on it. 
his hand around your throat, fingers closing off the rush of blood to your fuzzy little brain, snapped out of your fucked-out daze. 
“you’re f-f-fucking mine, y-you understand?” the colorful mix of his eyes overtaken by the dark, void of all color as he fell pussy-drunk. 
“do you understand?” his grip got tighter, your eyes rolling back into your skull, the only thing you could focus on was the violent approach of your next climax. 
somehow you forced a meek nod, his grip relaxing enough for the blood to come back through, creaming his length without any warning. 
“s-s- oh my- f-fucking hell- ah!” 
incoherent at best, babbles and whimpers as your legs shook, overstimulation hitting you like a train. 
“there you go, suckin’ me off s’good, such a good girl,”. he didn’t falter once, pace steady and ruthless, leaving you drooling and cock-drunk. 
he titled his head to the ceiling, chest heaving and heart racing, mad at himself for not doing this earlier, but so, so fucking starstruck that he actually got to be inside you. 
you felt him twitch inside you, how his grip tightened on you, you knew he was close despite your drunken state. 
he wanted to fill you up so badly, but he would be fucking damned if he let you off with only two orgasms, he wanted to fuck you downright dumb. 
“got another f’me? i ain’t done with you baby,”. 
“ ‘s too much- s-sammy t-too m-much,” you felt the prick of tears at the corners of your eyes, fingertips buzzing as they dug into your bedding. 
he didn’t care. too focused on the way your tits bounced with each bone-breaking thrust, the sounds you made for him so easily, the way you let him use you. 
“i’m not done with you,” his voice more of a growl, fitting for the sharp ends of his canines and primal nature, walls fluttering around him as if they were begging for punishment. 
pulling your other leg up, a squeal as he somehow hit a whole new world inside of you, stars and colored specks blinding you. 
knees by your temples, the back of your thighs burning as you were folded in two. 
“ha- c’see myself inside ya- f-fuck,”. 
all 9 and a half inches of him swallowed up inside, bottom of your tummy bulging with each slam of his hips on your ass. 
sobbing on his cock, wasted on the lewd squelching of your syrup guiding him in and out, in and out, over and over again. 
his hand somehow managed to press on the bulge he created, your tears streaming down into your hair, drooling babbles as your body short circuited, synapses unable to grasp the sheer stimulus of it all. 
“gonna fill ya up, s-stuff ya full ‘f me,”. the twitching impossible to ignore, the weight of him stuffing you to the brim, met with your fluttering hole. 
pace beginning to falter, the final push needed for you to spill all over him again, body lost in another world as you rode out your third high. 
guttural moans filled the air of your room, hot white ribbons coated your battered walls. stuffing you full, writing every word he wished he would have said sooner deep inside. 
every i love you, i miss you, you’re all i’ve ever wanted, i wrote this song for you, please don’t go, all of it. 
with the spasms of his hips calmed, he let your legs down gently, one at a time. 
color flooding back to his eyes, that soft smile taking over once again. 
his gentle hand wiped away the tear-stains on your face, brushing away the fly-aways of your tousled hair from your sweat-pricked skin. 
still deep inside, still hard, barely heard whimpers as he moved around, he didn’t want a drop to spill out of you. 
“you’re an angel,” he hummed, pressing a few gentle kisses to your forehead, last one planted to the tip of your nose. 
all you could do was giggle, brain so mushy that you didn’t even bother to deny his sweetness. his adoration. 
“let’s get’cha cleaned up, yeah? you did so good for me,”. a few more gentle kisses scattered along your face, satisfied hum at your sugar-coated giggles, the smile uncontrolled on your lips. 
a hiss through his teeth as he slid out of you, a wince of your own at the sudden emptiness, almost feeling wrong. 
he wrapped both arms around you, locking your legs around his torso, lifting you in one swift movement. too fucked-out to even question how he could lift you nearly deadweight, snuggling your face in the crook of his neck the moment you were upright. 
letting him carry you to the bathroom, he flipped the light switch on and set you down gently on the toilet as he fell to his knees to turn the faucet for your bathtub. 
petting your leg as he waited for the water to warm, closing the drain when it was just the way he wanted it. 
“be right back, m’kay?” he kissed the crown of your head, leaving you all alone for the first time in hours. 
 head in your hands, elbows pressed into your aching thighs, trying to process what just happened. 
from a void of breakdown and destruction, to falling apart at the seams willingly, to sobbing on sam’s cock, all too much for your heart to process, for your mind to wrap around. 
“hi pretty,” his hums gentle, crouching down to feed you some water, baby sips. 
“hi,” you felt all shy, his presence all-consuming, giggling near uncontrollably. 
you felt yourself coming down from your high, both highs, drowsy and spacey, but comfortable. 
“so…” he drug out, flush across the bridge of his nose. 
“so?” you mocked playfully, running your fingers through his hair. 
“first….i think you’d look real pretty with a lil’ collar…” he trailed, almost embarrassed. “nothin crazy…just our little secret y’know?” 
the idea had crossed your mind before, but this time it made your swollen pussy twitch despite its battered state. 
his. 
“second….i love you. i always have,”.
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hello! sorry this took a while, i hope it's what you were looking for!
i have a few other requests that are in the works, those will be coming soon.
i would also love to build off of this... longfic maybe???
thanks for stopping by! i love you all! mwuah!!
currently waiting for my ring @whoreforsam
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thesunisatangerine · 2 years ago
Text
against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two
alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader
warnings: implied sexual content
(a/n in the tags)��[parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]
word count: 2.5k
You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed. 
Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.
“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.
“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.
You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”
Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale. 
Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.
Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.
“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”
You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate. 
Unsurprisingly, logic won out.
“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.
“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed. 
“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”
There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”
“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips. 
You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”
Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…
“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.
“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”
Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”
“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”
“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow. 
“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”
“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”
He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”
“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”
At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?” 
Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”
At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold. 
“When did this happen?”
“Early morning today in our timezone.”
“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”
“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”
“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”
“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”
“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.
“I’ll cover it, Derek.”
“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”
“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”
“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–” 
“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.
“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.” 
“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”
“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”
“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”
“I will. Love you, sis.”
“I love you, too.”
After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out. 
It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.
“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”
Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?
You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.
You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.
“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?
“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.
“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her. 
For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.
“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”
“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”
“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”
“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.” 
“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”
“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.
“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.
She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.
“–what do you have in mind?”
You blinked. “What?”
Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”
Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue.  That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”
You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder. 
“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold. 
Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”
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turtleplushi · 4 months ago
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I need to stop drawing them my god
#im kind of posting a lot today but its my BIRTHDAY TOMORROW (said extremely subtlety) and i need to hype myself up#im gonna show some friends slay the princess later. its going to be normal. i wont be weird about it if i draw everyone out tonight#<- lying#we're also gonna do some pottery. it'll be sick#anyways um stuff about the art now#i love paranoid soo much#i got the ending where you get thrown into the void by nightmare and it was extremely cool#poor hero is just trying his best#cold's introduction in razor is also really awesome. its very simple but neat#johnathan sims when i get you johnathan sims#contrarian is also so insecure can we talk about that#there should be more fics about this. “but thats the worst part of us.. thats *me*” no do go on please elaborate on that#i cant find a clip of him saying that but i remember seeing it somewhere. i might have to replay stranger's ending hehe#i dont know if this game is really a good party game honestly#being a visual novel and all#as long as all of the endings they get are cool but not super romantic it'll be fineee#voice of the paranoid#voice of the cold#voice of the contrarian#narrator stp#turtle's art hoard#everything* not everyone#minor spelling mistake spotted!! send her to the construct boys#these arent super polished by the way obviously#the first two took about half an hour each#but the third took over an hour because i couldnt figure out the stupid colors#which is dumb because they're literally achromatic#ok bye for realsies#slay the princess
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x-snickersnap-x · 3 months ago
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hey ao3 anonymous user who just put their transphobic detransitioner thinkpiece in the guise of a x reader fic in the ghoap tag, can you take it off anon so i can mute your ass thanks
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jestroer · 2 years ago
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Hermits in dresses with Jleo today :)
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sajdd · 18 days ago
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crazy how theres so much discourse about toriel, asgore and sans because of the new chapters - specifically ch4 ending
sans has been my favourite character in undertale since day 1 but hes just a funny little gag character in deltarune who came off a bit insensitive at the end of ch4. he probably has literally 0 clue about any of the issues or family drama going on. in his eyes he's probably just having a fun time with a new friend. like yeah he was quite insensitive to kris and susie but i honestly think its just not that deep. (at least not yet.) i think people are just expecting undertale-levels of introspection from him at this moment when he's basically not even plot-relevant right now
toriel is a caring mother who's going through the stresses of looking after a kid who has been distancing themselves from everyone for a long time, missing her other child who has been away for studies, and is being stalked by her ex husband who just will not leaver her alone. the way she acted at the end of the chapter was Not Good™ as it was very irresponsible of not checking up on her child but she's just a kind woman who is flawed and made a mistake just like everyone else can
asgore is a man who clearly knows something about dess' dissapearance and we can infer that somehow this led to the dreemur's marriage falling apart and he's desperately trying to prove his innocence or something - thinking that if he does that then it will all go back to normal. is that a situation that calls for some sympathy? probably, depending on what happened. but is stalking toriel the answer to fixing their marriage? fuck no he should absolutely be judged for that - but while his current actions are inexcusable we can assume that whatever happened has made him that desperate of a man and this can evoke some feelings of sympathy
most of us have seen undertale and know how complex all these characters are. yes they are different in deltarune but the context of undertale allows us to already have a loose grasp of what their personalities are like.
they are all complex characters who are well-meaning but can make brash or emotional decisions that do not have the intention of hurting someone but hurt a lot anyway. why is everybody suddenly jumping to extremes on all these characters. none of them are 100% evil or good in this scenario.
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