#or maybe to comfort/hang out with them like we did with sun

[notdysfunk]

So ruin dlc trailer, ey?

[my--moon]

hey, another child of dionysus here! do you think you could do a percy x daughter of dionysus one shot 🙏🏼🙏🏼

❝ Daddy doesn't like you ❞

Pairing; Percy Jackson X Fem!Reader (Child of Dionysus) Warning; mentions of alcohol, making out, disobeying parents (okay, I lied about being none) heavily implied smut (Percy openly says it who am I kidding?) and nude bodies (nude bodies shouldn't always be sexual btw) Based on Camilla Cabello's song “My Oh My” (great song, hits different on Christmas Eve) A/N; tagging my love; @riordanness

Next: Tonight is Ours

Look, (Y/N) may of had a rebellious streak. She may of gotten hurt one too many times. She may of gotten drunk by accident more than once.

But she was a good kid!

And sleeping with the one boy your dad hates is never on someone's to-do list! Not even (Y/N)'s and she loved to piss off her dad!

Why did (Y/N) sleep with Percy? Okay, I can't answer that exactly—mainly because I don't know.

All of last night was a blur—first it was drunken karaoke—then spin the bottle—I think 7 minutes in heaven happened after Travis Stoll hooked up with Katie?

Either way; this was never meant to happen.

“Oh. My. Gods...” (Y/N) mumbled, her eyes widening in horror as she saw the one boy—THE ONE BOY—She wasn't supposed to sleep with... In her bed.

Her plum coloured satin sheets draped over his nude, sun-kissed skin. Her clothes on the floor, and his clothes near by, hanging off a chair by her desk.

She slowly arose from her laying position, trying oh so carefully not to wake him up. The sheets that covered her chest slid down, but (Y/N) caught it just in time.

An arm wrapped around her waist.

(Y/N) yelped at the sudden touch of a cold skinned arm. Percy pulled her back down, her head hitting the plush plum pillow and her face being buried into his bare chest.

Blood rushed to her cheeks. This would take a lot more than just giving dad some cheap wine to get off the hook...

“Stay.” Percy mumbled. A sleepy yet firm voice telling her to stay while he has a death grip on her hips.

You expect her to say no to that?

Their body's moulded around each other perfectly, their skins melting into each other's warmth. Percy nuzzled himself into the crook of (Y/N)'s neck.

“We shouldn't be here..” she muttered.

“I don't care.” Percy replied, shifting around slightly for a more comfortable position. “Who's to stop us?”

“My dad. He hates you.” (Y/N) answered. Small grape vines intertwined in her hair as her emotions deepened.

“He doesn't hate me.” Percy tried to think of an excuse for Dionysus' hatred towards the son of the sea. “He.. okay, yea; he hates me.”

(Y/N) made a face of 'ya don't say' before gliding her palms along the old gashes that scarred his body.

When Percy looked up to see out the window—it was still early morning. Nobody would be up at this hour—maybe the Apollo kids, but they're early birds, whether they like it or not.

“It's too early for anyone to be out.” He commented, before lying his head back down next to hers.

(Y/N) let out a hum, before burying her face in his chest. Thin grape vines wrapping around his bicep. Making him chuckle. “Is this your doing?”

(Y/N) let out purr. “Maybe.” She mumbled, noticing his chuckle and tired yet affectionate eyes. “Y'know... Daddy says you're annoying and arrogant. I don't see what he means.”

Percy let out a low toned laugh at her words. “That didn't stop me from sleeping with his only daughter now, did it?”

(Y/N) lightly blushed and a breathy laugh escaped out from her mouth. “No, it didn't.” She answered.

Both if them knew this wasn't supposed to happen. But if the god of pleasure couldn't handle a small fling that his daughter had, is he really the god of pleasure?

Percy's hands started to get more grabby, groping at her hips and moving his mouth down onto her collarbone.

(Y/N) hummed and giggled at his kisses, gripping at the sheets of her bed holding him gently as he placed passionate bites on her neck and shoulders.

A knock at the door echoed throughout the room. The two's pleasurable and sweaty session was put on hold as they perked up at the sound. Another knock was heard.

The pair froze. “Who's that?” Percy whispered.

“It's can't be Pollux, he's on a quest..” (Y/N) replied, before sitting up straight to look out the window.

Her father, Dionysus stood at the door, his arms crossed and his iconic outfit of a leopard print shirt and denim shorts was present.

“Fuck!” She cursed out, pushing the son of Poseidon off her and grabbing her clothes. She threw Percy's clothes over to him and he frantically got dressed.

“(Y/N)?” Mr. D called out from outside, he knocked again. Percy was now dressed in his CHB shirt and usual shorts, only differences his beaded necklace wasn't there—?

“Uhhh... In a minute, dad!” (Y/N) called back out to her father. She turned back to Percy and motioned to the window. “You need to leave, like right now!”

“C'mon.. he won't care!” Percy argued, before meeting (Y/N)'s glare. “Alright, I'll leave.” He said, before placing a quick kiss on her cheek and sneaking off out the window.

“Oh, and before I forget; thanks for the sex, vino.” He smirked before slipping out of the window. He asked her 'wine' in Spanish.

(Y/N) blushed before fixing up her hair. “Heyyy daddyy!” she said as she flung the door open, having a firm grip on the handle and a fake smile—hopefully he didn't notice.

“Hey, sweet. I've got to talk to you about something.” Mr. D said, wiping his feet on the doormat before entering. He walked over to her messy bed (somehow didn't notice the vines from before) before talking to his daughter.

“Look, (Y/N). You're a smart girl, right? So, you'd understand when I tell you—” Crunch. went beads under the wine God's foot. Dionysus looked down and lifted up his foot.

“Why are Peter Johnson's beads in your room?”

“Um.. I can explain...?”

[neteyamu]

Idk if ur taking requests but if u do neteyam x human!reader where the reader sleep in really weird positions and him just not understanding how it could be comfortable?

pairing — neteyam x human gn!reader

genre — fluff

warnings — not proofread we die like men💪, a mild seizure joke thing (pls tell me if theres anything else <3)

wc — 736

a/n — hey love!! i dont mind taking requests as of now so if you would like to send more pls do 🫶 but i cannot guarantee that i will be able to finish writing all of them quickly, especially since i have school :(

Neteyam instantly woke up as he felt a sudden jab to his stomach. He groaned in confusion as he looked around in the dark, trying to find whatever caused the disturbance. His eyes immediately drifted to your small frame laying beside him. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as he took in your position. Your right leg was stretched out and resting against his stomach, your left bent inwards but faced the other way. Your torso was leaning away from him though it turned to face him at a weird angle. And your arms were all over the place.

Neteyam was incredibly confused. How were you able to sleep peacefully like that? Was it not uncomfortable? He quietly shuffled back a bit and brought his hands towards you, gently straightening out your legs and placing you flat on your back. His hands then moved to your arms and brought them beside you. He made sure your exopack was secure before laying down again and wrapping his arms around you. Right before he fell asleep he made a mental note to himself to make fun of you in the morning for your weird sleeping position.

Neteyam grunted as he felt something poke him. Not again, he thought. Have you already started moving?! It can’t have been that long since he last fixed your posture. He decides to ignore it, maybe you’re just turning onto your side. Another poke. And then a push. Neteyam growls in frustration as he opens his eyes for the second time that night. As soon as he looks at you his eyes widen in shock. There is no way that is normal.

You are laid across the bed horizontally. your legs facing him as your head is hanging off the edge of the bed. Your right leg is folded underneath you and your left is digging into Neteyam’s abdomen. Half of your left arm is hanging off the bed beside your head and your right hand is calmly resting beside you.

Neteyam just stops and stares at you in disbelief. How is this even possible? How are you not in any pain? He can see the first rays of the sun starting to show and he gives up on trying to sleep. Neteyam sighs as he sits up and continues to stare at you. He crawls over to you and slowly pulls you back onto the bed, deciding to wake you up. He gently shakes you, but with you being so small compared to him it felt as if there was a mini earthquake happening and you jolted awake.

“‘Teyam! You almost gave me a heart attack!”, you said with your voice still groggy from sleep and your hand clutching your heart, your eyes squinting at him because of the light.

“I am really sorry yawne, but I had to ask you something”, he says with a slightly raspy voice.

You give Neteyam a nod, signalling him to go ahead.

“Are you possessed.” he asks with a straight face and you burst out laughing.

“What!?” you question in between your giggles.

“I think you should see my grandmother. Just in case.” Neteyam says so seriously you might actually piss yourself from laughing.

“Neteyam are you alright? Did you get enough sleep?”, you ask him as your giggles slowly come to a stop.

“No, in fact, I did not. You gave me nightmares. I do not know how anyone can sleep like that”, he says, shuddering as he remembered how you twisted and turned.

“Oh really? Like what”, you ask Neteyam, confusion overtaking your features.

“Like someone froze you mid seizure” he says as he gets up and stretches, walking over to grab his bow and arrows, slinging them across his back.

“Hey! That’s not very nice ‘Teyam”, you scowl at him and get out of bed as well.

“I am just being honest” he says, putting his hands up in defence.

“Anyways, I really have to go otherwise my dad will get mad, but I will see you later tonight.” Neteyam says, leaning down and giving you a quick peck on your head.

He leans down even lower and whispers into your ear.

“Maybe you should go see my grandmother while I am gone. Just to be sure you know?”

You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him as he walks backwards out the tent, laughing and waving goodbye to you.

[pinksturniolo]

If I Can’t Have You, No One Can - Part Two

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: Matt can’t seem to stand the fact that he can’t have you to himself. He knows it’s wrong to want you. After all, you’ve been dating his best friend for the past few months. But he never claimed to be a good guy. And he’s more than willing to show you just what you’ve been missing.

Content warnings (not in every part): smut, oral, fingering, raw sex, cheating, unhealthy relationship, obsession, use of alcohol

matt being a dirty little simp in this part 👀

word count: 4,260

Matt’s POV

I thought about her all fucking night long, I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing her face and remembering the way her lips tasted on mine. I tossed and turned, the tent in my sweatpants growing, my dick so hard it was painful, until I found myself pulling them down in a haste and thrusting into my hand only to cum a mere 60 seconds later all over my stomach.

To be honest, that wasn’t the first time I touched myself to the thought of Y/N.

But now that I knew the feeling of her kiss, finally able to lay my hands on the soft skin of her waist, and hear her moan…

I could easily jerk off again to the thought of it, already feeling my self grow hard for the second time.

But I needed more, I craved more.

I feared that she wouldn’t talk to me after that kiss, that maybe I crossed the line. But I also didn’t regret it. The tension between us had been building for a while and I wanted her more than anything.

Boyfriend or no boyfriend.

When I first met her, I was attracted right away. My heart sank when Mark introduced her as his girlfriend. She had this magnetic energy I was drawn to, and a smile that made my heart race in my chest. She spoke with confidence and was naturally funny without even trying. The more she came around, the more positive things I noticed about her, and I couldn’t help myself from staring at her when she talked, or walked, or did anything really.

I felt like an idiot for falling for a girl I had only known for a couple months, no less a girl that was with one of my best friends. Mark was a decent guy and he seemed to really like her. At first. But there was just no chemistry there, and anyone with a working brain could see that there wasn’t much of a connection. Sure, they looked good together but that’s all it was.

I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself though, being respectful and polite when they were around. Whenever it was just her at the house without Mark, she seemed more comfortable and would joke around more. I found myself looking forward to the weekends when she would come and just hang out, sometimes spending the night in Nick’s room.

But when I was alone, thoughts of her lips, her eyes, her body consumed me. More than often, I gave into my needs, my fist wrapped around my cock, moaning out her name, panting and sweating until I came in my hand. I just couldn’t help myself when it came to her. No other girl piqued my interest, and it frustrated me to no end because I couldn’t do anything about it.

If I made a move on her, she would without a doubt reject me. That would be cheating. I couldn’t talk to my brothers about it because they would think I’m insane for sure. I’m sure they noticed that I felt some type of way though, always making suggestive comments and giving me suspicious looks when she was around.

There was one night when I thought maybe, just maybe she might feel the same way I did. We had all gone out that day to random places in the city, thrifting and just walking around. Once the sun started to set, we decided to drive back to the house and watch a movie on the couch like usual.

 It was just me and her, sitting in the car and waiting for Chris and Nick while they were in the gas station getting snacks. She looked out the passenger window, the look on her face like she was deep in thought. The little scrunch in her eyebrows and the way her bottom lip stick out slightly whenever she was zoned out like that was incredibly cute to me.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked, causing her to break her focus and look over to me, her expression sheepish.

“Oh, nothing important.” she replied, shaking her head with a small smile and looking down at her lap.

“Don’t do that.” I spoke.

“Do what?” She said, looking back up at me.

“You always brush off personal questions. Like you’re afraid to open up.”

She chuckled. “Trust me, you don’t want to know what I’m thinking about.” She looked back out the window, a suggestive tone in her voice, making me even more curious.

“Try me.”

A few seconds of silence passes.

“Have you ever had a secret Matt? Like a secret you couldn’t tell anyone?” She turns towards me.

“Yeah, sure. Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, I mean like a secret so bad, it would change everything. Even hurt someone?”

“…..Okay do I need to be worried?”

She laughs, a sound I could never get tired of. My heart starts to race at what secret she could possibly be talking about, and the look on her face is unreadable.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be dramatic. I just… I have a secret that I haven’t talked about with anyone, not even Mark…. especially not Mark.”

“Are you okay? Like, he’s not doing anything bad is he-“

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s… something I did that’s bad.”

Her eyes are filled with desperation as she looks at me, like she’s terrified of what I’m going to say.

I grab her hand instinctively, and the feeling of her skin against mine is amazing. It’s a simple act, but it elicits a fire within me.

“What could you possibly do that’s so bad? I won’t judge you, I promise.” I tell her.

The eye contact is driving me insane, the tension in the car now thick as she squeezes my hand.

“That’s the thing Matt… I’m scared you will.”

Before she can say anything more, the back door opens, and Nick and Chris come climbing in.

She drops my hand and turns back to face the front of her seat, making my heart sink.

Chris opens his bag of chips, immediately chewing obnoxiously while Nick thumps on the back of my seat. “Come on, Matt! I got ice cream, and I don’t want it to melt!”

I roll my eyes, and sigh heavily, backing out of the parking lot.

“What’s up his ass?” Nick asks, looking at Y/N. She simply shrugs, looking out the window again, silent for the rest of the car ride.

She never brought up the conversation again, even making an excuse to leave that night instead of watching the movie with us. I felt horrible, like I upset her in some way. After that night, she started to be distant and her visits less and less frequent.

Until eventually, she stopped coming at all. Every time one of us would call or text her to ask where she was or what was wrong, she either answered with an extremely dry response or didn’t even bother to answer at all.

Chris and Nick constantly bombarded me with questions, asking what the fuck happened in the car that night and I just told them I had no clue, never mentioning her “secret.” Whenever Mark came around, it only annoyed me, having to see his face instead of hers.

He acted like it didn’t really matter if she was there or not, which aggravated me. He avoided questions of where or how she was. He seemed to have the time of his life without her around. I could tell he never appreciated her, never took care of her the way she actually deserved, and most likely didn’t satisfy her in the way she needed.

I knew it was wrong, but I started to despise my best friend. I felt like a jealous teenager in high school again, but I just couldn’t get her out of my thoughts, especially now that I had no clue as to why she stopped coming around. I constantly thought about our last conversation, and if her big secret had anything to do with me.

Why else would she bring it up to me? I started to obsess over it, over her. Thoughts and pictures of her while I touched myself in my bed, in the shower, fuck, even on the couch when no one was home, wasn’t enough. It was pathetic. I needed to see her.

✿

It was 2 a.m., the moon hung brightly in the sky, illuminating the dark night. There weren’t many people out on the streets, and I had the car windows rolled down, the brisk spring air feeling cool against my face.

I’m not sure what the fuck I was doing, all I knew, was that I couldn’t sit at home anymore. I originally intended to go for a night drive to clear my head, but instead, I found myself driving to her house.

I’m not even sure what I planned on doing when I got there. I couldn’t tell her I was coming, given the fact that my calls were currently going straight to her voicemail, and I for damn sure wasn’t going to knock on her door. She definitely didn’t want to see me if she couldn’t even bother to answer the phone.

So, I awkwardly parked across the street from her apartment complex. The light in her bedroom window shone, and I could see clearly into it because her curtains were open. Her apartment was on the first floor, near the street, a couple trees surrounding it but if you were in the right spot, you could see most of the room.

I had only been over a couple times, with my brothers and Jackson when we decided to have movie night there. It was always a running joke how easily someone could spy on her if she left her curtains open, and now here I was, doing the exact same thing.

She sat on her bed, her lugs tucked under her, computer on her lap. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, her pajamas on. She looked content, focused on whatever she was working on.

I felt like such a fucking creep.

If Chris and Nick knew what I was currently doing, they would have me taken away to the loony bin in a strait jacket for sure.

I convinced myself this was insane and was about to drive away when I saw Mark enter through her bedroom door, and she got up, setting her computer down and putting her arms around him in a hug. His hands wrapped around her waist, nuzzling his head into her neck.

My heart raced in my chest, my cheeks flushing at seeing them together. The anger was radiating off me as I watched them embrace for a few more seconds and then kiss, moving down to her bed. It was like watching a car crash, it was horrible, but I couldn’t look away.

He lay down next to her, holding her while she laid her head on his chest. I could still see her face.

She looked happy.

I never drove off so fast in my life. I couldn’t bear to watch one more second and I felt disgusting for even intruding on her private moment like that.

It was hard to sleep that night, my mind racing with thoughts of his hands on her, touching her in the ways I so desperately wanted.

As crazy as it was, I found myself going back a few more times, on the nights where I just couldn’t get her off my mind. Thankfully, he wasn’t there, and I would stay for a few minutes, just watching while she worked, read or scrolled aimlessly on her phone. She looked so beautiful, and all I wanted was to be there with her, even if it meant sitting in my car across the street like an absolute maniac.

And to my surprise when she finally came over again after three excruciating long weeks, I couldn’t just tell her I had been stalking her at least once a week. But her body language and the way she got so nervous when I asked her why she had been ignoring me, made it click in my head. The tension between us, and the night she brought up a “secret.” She had to have feelings like I did.

So, I had to confront her, and when she kissed me back, it only confirmed to me what she felt.

But that had been a week ago, and I was back to pining over her, not hearing from her since then.

Until Jackson called on a Friday night, asking me and Nick to come over to her house where they were having game night. Chris had left earlier that day for plans he had made with some of his friends.

As we pulled into her apartment complex, it was embarrassing how excited I was to see her again. I knew I had to get her alone somehow and talk to her about last week.

Nick knocked on the door, it opening to reveal her behind it, looking gorgeous as ever. Her hair was down, her natural curls falling, and she was in a pair of tiny shorts and a plain tank top, a bright smile on her face and her cheeks tinted with a light blush when she saw me.

God, I wanted nothing more then to pin her against the wall right now, ripping off those shorts she was teasing me with and tell her all the ways I could ruin her.

My dick was already straining in my pants as we walked in, sitting around her kitchen table. I forced myself to calm down, thinking of sad puppies and make a wish kids.

There was already a game of Uno started when we joined in and Nick immediately announced he would win, causing Jackson to get serious. They were annoyingly competitive.

It was hard to focus on the game though, as Y/N was staring at me, teeth sinking into her bottom lip like she was contemplating something. I tried really hard to participate, but I felt my self-resolve slipping as I stared back, letting my eyes roam over her body. Her bare thighs squished together on the chair, her shirt riding up slightly, showing the skin of her hips.

It took everything in me not to audibly groan, the desire coursing through my veins. I had to figure out a way to get her alone, and my thoughts continued to wander when I heard her voice pull me back to reality. “Matt?”

My head snapped up, and her eyebrows were raised in expectation, everyone now looking at me.

“Yeah?” I asked, realizing I was too in my head earlier to hear her the first time.

“I said, I need to talk to you.” She replied, getting up from the table and setting her cards down. She walked to her room and my heart jumped as I got up as well, following her.

“Anyways…. Where were we...” I heard Nick say to Jackson, his voice fading as I stepped into her room down the hall, shutting the door behind me.

She stood a few feet away from me as I stayed near the door, unsure if I should move any closer. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Finally, she spoke, her voice a little shaky. “Matt, I want to talk about what happened.”

“Okay.” I say, gaining the courage to move towards her and her arms are down by her side, clutching onto the hem of her shorts nervously.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea… I mean- obviously, it’s not.” She says and I now stand a few inches from her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating between us.

“It’s not.” I reply and her eyes flicker from mine to my lips. I can see the black of her pupils expanding, the pulse in her neck jumping.

“And I want to do the right thing…” she continues, and I can’t help but attach my hands to her hips, like they have a mind of their own, causing her to pause in her words.

My thumbs brush over the bare skin there between her shirt and her shorts, rubbing mindless circles. The energy bouncing back and forth is almost too intense, our faces now dangerously close.

“Y/N. There’s absolutely nothing wrong you can do in my eyes.” I tell her and she sighs, her breath fanning against my lips, her arms now coming up to wrap around my neck, her body relaxing into me.

There’s a lot that needs to be said, feelings to unpack, and things we need to discuss. I know that. She knows that. But right now, in this moment, the only thing I can think about, the only thing I can feel is her.

“Just let me show you, please. Let me make you feel good, Y/N.” I breathe, tightening my hands around her waist and she crashes her lips onto mine, tongues meshing and teeth clashing as we kiss for the second time, even more desperate than the last.

Our lips move in sync, smacking sounds filling the room. Her hands tug on my hair as I pull her bottom lip between my teeth, sucking, and she moans into my mouth. I trail my lips down her jaw, onto her neck, breathing in her scent. “You smell so fucking good.” I say, holding her even tighter to me and I feel her nipples harden through her shirt as I suck on her neck harshly, flicking my tongue after to soothe it, leaving the beginning of bruises on her soft skin.

I hope he fucking sees them.

“Matt…” She whimpers, pulling on my hair again, making me groan against her. I’ve never been harder than I am right now, her sounds and smell intoxicating, the feeling of her supple hips in my hands. I grip them, moving her to the bed and hover on top of her, attaching my lips to hers once more.

I rest most of my weight on my arm on one side of her, the other placed gently on the side of her neck. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I grind down on her, the friction making us both moan out.

“Matt, the door.” She says breathlessly, panting against my mouth as we continue to grind on each other, the feeling too good to stop. At this point, anyone could interrupt us.

“Mm, you scared, baby? Scared someone’s gonna walk in and see what I’m doing to you?” I tease, my hand running down her chest, grazing over the valley of her breasts and resting on her stomach, right above her shorts.

She moans at my words, and I smirk, leaning down to whisper in her ear while my hand continues to explore her body, massaging her tits and running over her curves. “You like that? Does it feel good knowing I finally get you all to myself?”

“Fuck, Matt...” She sighs, her nails digging into my shoulder. The way she says my name alone could make me cum in my pants, but I want nothing more than to make her scream it, burying my cock deep inside her. “I bet you’re soaking.” I say, running my hand down to her shorts, unbuttoning them. She bites her lip in anticipation and bucks her hips up. I pin them down, making her stay still.

“Be a good girl for me, yeah?” I tell her, and the submissive look in her eyes has my cock throbbing.

She nods, and I slide her shorts off, exposing her red cotton panties. There’s a visible wet spot forming, and I groan aloud from the sight. I slide down the bed a little bit, positioning myself lower, my shoulders between her legs, spreading them open for me. I look up at her before I continue, and there’s nothing but lust in her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and lips swollen.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Is this okay? Can I take these off?” I ask her, placing my hands around the hem of her panties.

“Yes, please.” She says sweetly, making my heart ache in my chest. I waste no time sliding them off her, discarding them on the floor and she whines at the cool air now exposing her. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, admiring her. She’s perfect, better than I ever imagined, and I spread her folds, applying a light pressure as I slick my fingers through her wetness. She moans loudly and moves her hips again, squirming from my touch.

I grab them roughly, pinning her down once more and she whines when I remove my fingers from her. “Shhh, you have to be quiet baby. Can you do that for me?” She groans softly and nods her head, closing her eyes and laying her head back. I know at any moment, Nick or Jackson could walk in or hear the sinful acts I’m about to do to her, but I simply don’t give a fuck. I didn’t want to put her in that situation, yet the thrill of it turned me on more than anything.

“Uh uh. Keep your eyes on me. You look away or make one noise and I stop. You understand?” I demanded, pressing my hands into her thighs firmly, holding her open for me. She snaps her head up and sits up to rest on her elbows, licking her lips and nodding her head. The smirk on her face drives me crazy.

“Yes, Matt. I’ll be good.” She says and an idea suddenly sparks in my head when I see a tie on her bedside table. It must be Mark’s. My ego swells as I snatch it, her eyes widening when I stuff it in her mouth, tying the back of it around her head.

“Is that okay?” I confirm and she nods, biting down on the tie. I take my place back down between her thighs, laying on the bed and run two fingers up and down her slit before pushing it into her slowly. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” I moan, mesmerized at the sight of her wet hole squeezing around my fingers. She was already dripping, the sounds of her arousal echoing through the room as I started to pump them in and out of her.

She breathes hard through her nose, her eyes threatening to roll back in her head as I watch her, thrusting my fingers a few times before I pull them out and replace it with my tongue, tasting her for the first time.

She tasted incredible, a taste I could get addicted to. I massage her gummy walls, burying my face as deep in her pussy as I could, my thumb making small, tight circles on her clit. I hear her whine softly and one of her hands comes up to pull on my hair, making me moan against her.

 I move faster, my hands now gripping her hips as I let her ride my tongue. She’s so fucking hot and I can’t help but thrust down into her mattress, the feeling of her body unravelling and shaking beneath me.

I thrust my fingers back into her, pressing against the spongy spot as I curl them, and she moans lightly, her face contorted in pleasure, tears forming in her eyes from the frustration. “Are you close baby?” I say and she nods feverishly, her eyes desperate, and drool starting to pool down her chin form the tie in her mouth. “Its okay, sweetheart, you can lay back. Let me take care of it.”

She collapses on the bed, my fingers moving at a faster pace now, and throws her head back in ecstasy, small moans escaping her. I press my lips around her clit and suck, her back arching off the bed. She clenches around my fingers, whining frantically as she’s seconds away from her release.

“You’re doing so good for me... I want you to cum on my fingers, you can do it baby.” I praise and seconds later her arousal leaks out, dripping down my hand, my fingers still moving as she orgasms, panting relentlessly and I press light kisses on her inner thigh.

Holy shit, why didn’t I ever do this before? If I get the chance to do more, I’ll never stop.

Her legs are shaking as I pull my fingers out, massaging her with my other hand as she catches her breath. I sit up and help her take off the tie, smoothing her hair back from her face, and kiss her.

“Oh my god, Matt…” She starts, and I hold her face in my hands, looking into her eyes but before she can continue, there’s a knock on the door.

“Matthew! What the fuck is taking so long?! We’ve played literally 8 rounds of Uno already!!” Nick shouts and she laughs, her face reddening in embarrassment.

She gets up to clean herself before I can even help her and gets dressed. Suddenly I’m pulled back into reality, our little bubble of pleasure bursted. My heart sinks when I’m reminded, she’s not mine. We’ve only dug ourselves deeper into this hole we’ve created.

But as me and Nick drive back to the house later, all I can think about is when and how I can get my hands on her again.

a/n: the dots are connecting…. the plot is PLOTTING

also, sorry if the time jumps back and forth between parts confuse you guys, i just thought it would make it more interesting to introduce both of their povs

taglist: (thank you to everyone who requested, commented and liked, i appreciate each and every single one!!!!! 🩷🩷🩷) if i forgot anyone please lmk!

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @junovrsmp4 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @stingerayyy2 @glassesmattsbae @eryismum

[undercoverpena]

stockings and stars

javier peña x f!reader

summary: Still need the star putting on the top of the tree. ive got other plans for you Because I’m the star? yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

from the late night texts world - but can still be enjoyed on its own. chapter warnings: allusion to/mentions of smut. no actual smut. javi undresses you, though. flirting. fluff. reader wears red lingerie and a dressing gown. javi flirting. sexy talk, romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 3k

an: to @goodwithcheese merry christmas from me, to you. thank you for everything, for the tuesday fun we have - i wanted nothing more than to have this out sooner, but life, you know? but, i adore you. and I'm so glad we found one another. ahuge thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who cheerleaded for me throughout.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Will I be seeing Santa Javi today? I want to decorate my tree.

one time I come to yours in a red shirt

You also had the tree under your arm and a bag of baubles, I’d class those as gifts.

keep talking baby and you can decorate your tree alone

Think I’m gonna wear that shirt you left here while I do it. Make sure I have to get up on my tip toes. Hope it doesn't rise up...

you don’t play fair

I think I’ll be in stockings too…

youre killing me

Maybe they’re white and red, and…

baby if i wasn’t putting this thing up for Pop, i’d be driving over right now

Hope you hurry up, I need someone tall to put the star on top of the tree.

how am I gonna eat you out when youre perched on the tree baby

The last thing on his to-do list from his Pop is to hang the front porch garland.

He had learnt there had been a huge difference in the front and the back porch garlands. A fifteen-minute-long difference when he'd timed the response given to his sarcastic answer.

Javi learnt there was not only one for the back porch and the front, but one which sat across the fireplace and one on the staircase.

He learnt that after he'd made a joke about mixing them up—earning himself a very pointed glare, and the task of the front porch.

Now, it’s a battle he’s losing.

Tremendously so.

While he’d never want his Pop to do the more challenging tasks, he did rather hate he hadn’t thought to trade this one in for the back porch at the very least—because that had looked fucking easy.

Holding the garland in hand, he’s suddenly hit with a second wave of nostalgia, the first having arrived when he'd pulled down the box and peered into it.

It did the same thing as it had done then, all but rushed over him, layering itself on his shoulders, sitting, nothing short of a comfortable weight on him. Letting his gaze fall out over it, he smiles at the tuffs of fabric, all the bows tied by hand, all in an array of sizes and shades.

Over time, he can see how they've become sun-dyed, remembering the first year they'd been sewn into the faux greenery by his mamá, memories of her all hunched over, humming carols.

Smiling, he rolls his lips, letting out a heavier sigh than he intended as he drags it to the post he’d begin at.

But, all he wonders is whether in the years he wasn’t here, whether it was occasionally hung—or if this year is just that special.

The mere hint that he was going to ask if you wished to spend Christmas at the ranch had sent his Pop into overdrive. Practically yanked him out of his chair like he’d been electrified, a bunch of orders being flung from under his white, wiry moustache that they needed to get ready.

He wasn't sure he'd get the image of his Pop suddenly scrambling around like a man half his age, to drag the decorations out from the cupboard, would ever be erased from his mind. Least of all the sound you'd made aww'ing down the phone when he'd given you a condensed version of the story.

Because he hasn't asked you yet, not properly.

Even though he's spent the last two days at the back of barns and spending a ridiculous amount of time at the hardware store—because we need to make sure the lights stay up, Jav.

He just hasn't found the right time to ask you. A promise each time he goes to see you left in the air. Not that his Pop remembers that, instead he's just busy thinking up ways to make it special: one of which includes decorating the trees at the entrance to the ranch.

An idea having sprouted with the newest ranch hand—one which, if Javi overheard correctly, involves rope acting like tinsel and a cowboy hat being the star on the top of the trees.

Feeling his phone vibrate, he temporarily ignores it as he begins to weave the beginning of the garland around the wood—already knowing, before he tries to move it around the spindles, that it isn’t going to be easy.

Because nothing ever fucking is.

Least of all when you’re waiting for him.

His mind begins to concoct images of you in bows and sheer material, lips painted, sat waiting, smelling nothing short of heavenly as you call out for—

“Fuck,” he shouts, dropping the garland to the ground.

It had pricked him, stabbed him right in the skin—hand shaking the pain out, face likely all scrunched. And, if it didn't have sentimental value, he's sure he'd have kicked its protesting ass with everything he had. Instead, he just narrows his eyes more than he had done moments ago as he begins again.

He feels his nostrils flare when it begins to undo itself. The sound of faux bristles on wood grates him before it will even attempt to do what he needs it to.

And it makes him want to quit, to throw it back into the box and tell his Pop it isn’t worth it. But he knows it is. Knows that his mama didn’t spend hours bent over under flickering light for it not to be seen.

Javi also strongly suspects you’d love it. Likely run your fingers over several bows asking who made it. He can even imagine the look of joy on your face when he tells you.

It’s why, if he didn’t already suspect it anyway, he’s pretty sure his Pop loves you more than him. Because even the first Christmas he was back, there weren’t this many decorations; not nearly as much need to have them all out, either.

Not that Javi really minds—or blames him.

There’s a notable shift in energy when you stay over. Even more so in him. He can see there’s a cheer and a glow to the place—one Javi hates watching vanish when he takes you back to your place.

It's why, when—and where—he can, he fights for you to be here. Practically finds convincing ways to do so, including, crossword puzzles, dinner, and two-person showers. But, at some stage, your clothing dwindles, underwear runs low, and he has to make the painful drive into town to return you to your place.

Your fingers in his hair, practically clambered into his lap as you whisper that you’ll be back before he knows it. His fingers on your chin, thumb stroking out the words he says right back—that he’ll miss you all the same.

Javier Peña. Texan softie—what will the world think?

He only thinks one thing when he drives back—a response which had been there on his lips. Guess they’ll see just how much I love you. A thing you know, comment on, say back to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. An array of promises there, sometimes spoken at a normal level and sometimes whispered.

You always keep them, just like the one that you are always back before he knows it.

He likes it when you are. Enjoys it when you’re nestled beside him, arm across his chest, hand close to his ribs—strumming them, tracing lines and words he tries to understand before sleep takes him.

He still always sleeps better when you’re beside him. When his breathing can mirror yours, when he can feel for you in the night when he’s awoken with nightmares and things he knows won’t ever come true.

Now, he’s fighting a different battle. One to get to you.

Halted in his path to freedom by the garland which refused to be hung, and could be labelled as giving him more grief than the horses which had banded together. A phrase he never thought he’d admit out loud, never mind think.

You still fighting with the garland?

baby its torturing me on purpose

Do you want me to come and help?

will you come in the stockings

No!! Your dad is there.

then stay there actually lie down, but do not begin without me

Still need the star putting on the top of the tree.

ive got other plans for you

Because I’m the star?

yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

Hurry then.

i’m hurrying

He does hurry—practically scratched up by the time he’s parking his truck outside your place.

As he takes the step up to your door, Javi realises how much he misses it here when he doesn’t visit. A place less frequent and often spent time in, even under your insistence of renting it.

It is always usually a stopping point, him parking up, letting you go in and grab what you need before you're back in his truck, heading back to his.

He does like your place though, likes how small it is, how cosy. Plus, it has all the things which make you, you. A thing his place is currently missing.

Although, as he steps through the door, and calls your name, he does have to admit it currently looks fucking ridiculous.

On a good day, he’d describe your place as crowded, but right now, it’s claustrophobic.

The tree you’d forced him to get is shoved into a corner, branches fluffed out, surrounded by the piles of unpacked boxes you’ve tried to discreetly hide. Your remaining floorspace is overtaken by a bit of rug, several piles of books (you have no room for, but continue to buy) and odd bits of furniture you find and attempt to restore.

For the most part, you’ve decorated. A thing you did inform him of.

You’ll be pleased to know when you get here your only job is the star. managed it all yourself, did you I’m a very competent woman, Javi. oh i know baby ive seen you with a crossword Does that do it for you? Me finishing a crossword. does something to me Get over here. im leaving now

There’s a warm, comforting glow spread out across the place from the fairy lights you’ve hung and the array of mismatched decorations—both bought and handmade—hanging from branches.

He breathes in the scent of orange which hangs in the air, his eyes finding the culprit on your fireplace, a garland—one not dissimilar to the one he’d been battled with—places there, mocking him due to the ease of which had been laid, with oranges and little beads all entwined within it.

Snorting, he glances back at your tree, spotting the things he's been with you when you've bought. And, as promised—and informed him through text—there’s nothing at the top of your tree.

“You finally made it!”

Spinning on his heel, he comes face to face with you, and fuck if the sight of you doesn’t make it all worth it.

Dressed in a red, silky dressing gown, all tied in the middle, you're a vision. Then, there's the fact your lips are painted a shade he’d now famously dub Christmas red, a colour he wants nothing more than to be stained with. A path of it from his mouth down to the space where his jeans meet his hips. A thought which seems to only make how tight his jeans are even more uncomfortable.

“Cariño, you’re…”

You sway a little, letting the fabric move—allowing his gaze to land on the stockings. The ones he’s been thinking about all afternoon. The ones he can’t wait to feel under his palm and know whether they’ll create friction when wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m kinda banking on it,” you say, biting your red-painted lip. “But first…”

His hand crawls around your waist, feeling the smooth, soft texture under his hand—swallowing, dragging his eyes up and down you, unsure how he could ever be so lucky—how something so good could ever be here for him to unwrap.

“I need you to hang the star,” you continue.

“Right now?”

Nodding, you ghost your lips over his. “I’ve been so good waiting for you.”

“You're never good. You, baby, are a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

Snorting, he presses a kiss to your lips. “Damn right, you are.”

Moving from you, reluctantly, only to pick up the gold star he assumes you want to hang, getting a nod from you that he’s right.

“Need to ask you something too.”

And even though he’s only taken a mere short step from you, he’s floored all over again about what a picture you look like when he glances back. That you’re standing all for him, dressed in nothing but cheer and ribbons all for him.

“Go on.”

Turning to your tree, he flattens his hand to the wall for stability. “I wanted…”

His concentration slides in—suddenly aware he doesn’t want to knock anything from the branches. Doesn’t want to force things to be misplaced from where they were expertly hung.

He’s also sure he’s wanting to swallow the question. A part of him, all the way deep inside of him, having been bracing—and waiting—to hear you’d be apart for the holidays. A thing the two of you have rarely been since you moved here, not a day going by he hasn’t seen you for at least an hour.

“Wanted to know if you—shit—” the star almost sitting atop, before at the last minute protesting. “I wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas with me—with us, me and Pop. At the ranch.”

The star slides into place, sitting more comfortably with another shove, more branch supporting it.

But he doesn’t turn, not immediately. Not as the question hums around him, swirls in the silence of you not immediately saying yes. So much so, that it takes him a second to move on his heels, to face you—to read the answer before it’s delivered.

What he sees is something his heart couldn’t have ever prepared for.

You, grinning—a silly, almost goofy, smile spreading out as you bite down on your lip, forehead slightly crinkled.

“You… you want me to spend the holidays with you?”

“Of course—cariño, I want nothing more than for you to be with me.”

It all quick to leave his mouth, mirroring the movement to be back in front of you, fingers under your chin, lifting your eyes—those beautiful, fucking eyes—to his.

“Do… do you—wanna spend it with me?”

You pull a different face before you’re nodding. One more excited, one which begins to expel out over a smile and a bunch of escaping phrases such as I can’t believe you want me with you and of course.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

Shrugging, you scrunch your nose—an act he finds just as cute as the first time he saw it. “Guess it’s a big deal. It’s… a thing people do with families.”

Pulling you close by your hips, your hand lands flat on his chest. “You are my family.”

“Javi,” you whisper, making each letter feel so individual the way you say it, that it makes his heart double.

“It’s true. You’re it for me, cariño. All I’ve wished for.”

Eyes widening, your eyes shimmer under the lights—more so than normal. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin before pressing a kiss to his mouth. One which turns hungry, desperate—your mouth searing, a thing he’s craved since he woke up before the sun even rose.

“Baby,” you whisper.

And he hums.

It vibrates out, able to feel it from the way his fingers cup your cheek.

“Undo me.”

Releasing your lips with a pop, he opens his eyes, studying your eyes, moving from one to the other.

“Go on,” you urge in a whisper, more breathless, more tinged with something that makes his skin hot.

Sliding his fingers over the knot, he barely has to tug before it comes undone—unveiling you, like a curtain which wishes to part. If he’d thought you’d looked good before, he’s sure every bit of you is a sin now—a Christmas sin.

Red and lace. It’s all he sees. It sitting there, against you, hugging your breasts—sitting on your hips. His mouth is suddenly dry at the thought of running his tongue over the place it meets your skin before pulling it down.

Your fingers follow his eyes, sliding between the valley to land on the bow in the centre, twisting the edge of the tie around your index finger—palm skating over your stomach, allowing him more chance to take in how you’re stood before him in see-through fabric and promises.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, more to no one, than to you.

His fingers teasing the fabric sat on your hip—marvelling, unsure how to think straight until you clear your throat, forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper, tightening your hold on his hands, bringing his arms more around your waist, pressing your front to him, feeling the heat from your skin through your clothes. “You’re all I wished for too.”

Smiling, he looks at your tree, before landing back on you. “You look so good.”

“I know. Could look better though?” His brow arches as you slowly begin to smile, the tip of your tongue sliding over your upper lip. “Everything is held in place by bows.”

Groaning, he closes his eyes, letting his hand slide down your lower back, over sheer material before his fingers find the ribbon on your hip.

“All for you.”

“Mine,” he answers, slotting his mouth over yours—staining the four letters to your lips.

His fingers slide around, brushing over soft skin, until he finds the first bow. Undoing it with ease, licking into your mouth, only to grunt against you when you whimper as the fabric falls to your feet.

“Yours,” you say back, your own hands beginning to undo him.

an: merry christmas, love you

[fairykazu]

WISH UPON A STAR FT. SCARAMOUCHE ! cws: best friends, mutual pining, requited, fluff, modern au, teens, gn!reader notes: guess what they wished for. this has been in my drafts since forever. so sorry about that. masterlist | moonflower masterlist taglist: @ainnofinway @lovemari @lily-lmao @aethion

it was friday and it was usually the days where you and scaramouche hang out and relax from school, which is almost always turn into a sleepover. both of you were in his room, underneath a blanket fort. leaning on scaramouche's shoulder, you yawned, "scara, did you know it's going to have a meteor shower tonight?"

he shrugged you off, your head hitting the pillow besides his torso, "really?" he liked how you didn't mind that your head hit the pillow, instead resting nicely on his shoulder. he didn't want you to know that he actually liked it.

you nodded your head, boring your eyes into his indigo lensed ones. he turned around quickly, ignoring your gaze as his ears burned. "when?"

"around 11:50, i think." ignoring his antics, you answered, smiling. "i hope we would see it by then, if your mom lets us."

"don't worry, she will."

he replied quickly as you furrowed your brow, "are you sure? how would we even see them?" as long as you could remember his mother is protective over him, but luckily, not to a point where she's overbearing. regardless, she hates when scaramouche gets rebellious which is bad for her since he likes to rebel whenever he can. you try your best to prevent it, but you end up wrapped into whatever he wants to do.

his answer was blunt, as sharp as a newly forged sword, "sunroof."

you scrunched up your face, scaramouche likes when you do that. it's funny to see your reaction to his seemingly careless replies. "the sun roof? seriously?"

it's clear that you aren't taking him seriously, maybe it's time to amp it up a bit.

he confirmed it and took it a bit further by crawling out of the fort to point up. he could hear the blankets rustle behind him while you crawled out of the fort from the tiny opening. looking where he was pointing at, you wanted to cry. despite his family being rich, his mom liked to spend it rarely, making sure it goes to the right places, which is smart. she is smart but man, how could you guys even see the stars from this one-by-one square?

well, not really one-by-one, but it's big but not big enough to see every star that's possible to see with the human eyes. you wanted to cry but instead you turned around, hearing scaramouche's chuckles. "did you really believe me?"

your frown pressed into a thin smile, "what?" you were in disbelief because not only did he lie, he's laughing at you. wow, rubbing salt in the wound is really cruel.

he liked to pull pranks or jokes on you because your reactions are almost always funny to watch. but seeing the doubt set into your face, it made him feel a bit guilty. so he decided to uplift your spirits instead."im lying! of course, i won't make you watch it from this window because this-" he drew a rectangle with his fingers. "- is too small for you. when it's around the time, let me know and i'll show you how we'd watch it."

"what?"

"i just know a place."

when he said, 'i just know a place', you didn't expect it to be on the roofs of the house and how you got there? you don't even know nor remember. it kind of just happened within a blink of an eye.

scaramouche was chuckling to himself quietly as you looked at him, dumbfounded. no one in this house ever discovered that he had dug up tunnels and pathways in secret. so of course, he had a pathway to go up the roof. is this really true?

kind of. mikoto figured it out it was him but despite it, she never tattletale on him so it's technically a secret. if you ask him why he did it, he'd just smirk but in reality, he was a devoted liv and maddie fan.

you two sat on the roof, where scaramouche laid out a blanket for the both of you. scaramouche threw up pillows in which you caught, "are you comfortable?"

"as comfortable as a person can be on a roof."

"good enough." scaramouche replied, climbing up and adjusting the corners of the roof. you're just happy that he didn't make you sit on the slanted roof but instead, where he had his hideout on the flattest part of the roof.

you took two of the pillows and set them down. scaramouche immediately hogged both of them as you frowned, "that was two for two of people sitting here..." you pointed to yourself and then him. "two people, scara. me and you."

"...uh huh, i'm following?"

"you're insufferable." you replied as your face lit up. "wait."

"what? what are you doing? you're making me scared."

you pretended to stretch your back as you declined on him, resting full body weight on scaramouche. "humph! what are you doing??"

"you're a hogger, you know that? this is what you get and you can't push me off." you said, expecting him to fight back or roll you off gently. but instead, you hear,

"fine. what time is it?" thank god, he changed the subject because you wouldn't have known how to continue it after he agreed with your antics for once. "around 11:40."

"good, we can wait out here then."

"good..." you glanced everywhere but where he was. "scara, i don't think your roof may not be the safest place for us to stargaze." you said, recalling your complaint from earlier.

scaramouche lifted himself up as he watched for you if you fell, his hand near your head in case you did. "either this or the sunroof."

"thank you for blessing me with the opportunity to see this beautiful night sky, scara!" you replied quickly as he hid his chuckle.

waiting for ten minutes just to pass away is taking forever, scaramouche thought as he annoyed you by poking you. it was easier to just watch paint dry than wait for the incoming meteor shower. but he looked at you while you began to fight back with his poking by poking him back, it was worth it.

"scara! the stars!" you jolted up as scaramouche pulled you back into his embrace. when you turned to his face, he explained, "i don't want you to fall down and die. i don't want to be linked to your death, how would i go to the ivy league colleges now?"

"uh huh."

but did you really care? no... you rested your head against his chest, noticing how his heartbeat was increasing. you wanted to make fun of him, but you didn't want him to notice so was yours; you kept your mouth shut.

you asked, as he was tapping your arm, "scara, isn't the stars so beautiful?"

scaramouche agreed with you but not for reasons you may think. as you looked at the stars, he looked at you.

"wait, scara! wish on the stars."

"that's so childish."

"but i heard they come true!"

"... fine but im not doing it because you said so."

"i know, don't worry."

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

[cinnamoneve]

𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐞.

heliophile \ ˈhēlēəˌfīl \ (n.) - one attracted to, or adapted to sunlight.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x fem!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru was warm, like the sun. it only took a big social event (and for him to drink a bit) for you to truly see him shine ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 2.3k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: ough i love him i've been sitting on this for a WHILE !! as always, reblogs n comments are much appreciated &lt;;3 ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: alcohol consumption ( everyone give a big hand to satoru for drinking !!!! ) and then he throws up from alcohol consumption !!! (emeto warning)

satoru gojo was an easy man. 

he had a laundry list of things he loved more than life. his students, his pretty little girlfriend; there wasn’t a boundary that existed that his persistent and ever-forward personality couldn’t break into. 

satoru was like the sun, in a way. things just…came alive around him. the chaos he brought with him everywhere he went was so common that it was almost comforting. where bad things happened, satoru fixed them. and wherever he was, the good just followed. his rays of light and entropy reached out and warmed everything it touched. all beings seemed to turn to bask in his very being.

for things he hated? well, there was a list for that too. some more prominent than others, but your favorite thing he seemed to hate was the least offensive of its competition: alcohol.

in the years you two have been together, you couldn’t recall the last time satoru was seen with a drink in his hand, let alone remember if you’d ever seen it. he didn’t mind when other people were drinking, of course (and loved to indulge you when you got a bit too drunk), but never let himself take a sip.

you weren’t sure if it was because of a bad experience in his youth, something in his family, or just a personal experience; it was never right to bring it up.

but you didn’t mind. and tonight was a night worth celebrating, after all.

you and satoru got dressed up to go out with some friends. something about a big mission finally being over. you’ve never seen anyone party as hard as sorcerers do after they finish their job. all you and satoru could do was attend and catch up with colleagues. you’d have a drink, he’d have a mocktail, and all would flow like it normally would.

satoru fiddled with the button on his shirt as you two walked into the venue.

some club that was picked out by someone whose name you forgot–maybe they were from kyoto? you couldn’t really remember. it wasn’t the type of scene you frequented, but a change of pace was very much welcomed. 

your boyfriend’s jittery hands caught your eye as you glanced over at him. his other hand kept you close to his body, but just enough so that you could look up at his face. 

“feelin’ okay, baby?” 

he looks at you a little delayed, nodding before his eyes meet yours to put your mind at ease.

“we don’t have to stay too long, if you don’t wanna hang around,”

“that’s not it,” he starts, and he barely opens his mouth before he’s called over by some colleagues. you continue to look up at him as he greets them with a sweet smile, rubbing your back to soothe your worries.

mmm, not like you believed him, but you did trust him; so you followed him along, walking just ahead of him as his hand guided you towards his colleagues. 

and the colleagues just kept on coming, even inside the club. you’d think satoru worked with, or even saved, every single person in the entire country with the amount of people coming up to you at this party. and he had a story for each and every one of them too–his memory about them all was crazy. it almost made you fall in love with him just a little bit more. he’s interacted with hundreds–no, thousands of people for work. but he always seemed to remember those he had a different kind of impact on. 

it made your head spin a bit. sure, he liked to be grandiose about his adventures and his work, but seeing people back him up about it in the flesh seemed like a big gag that you weren’t let in on. you believed him, but was he really that great? he saved that many people, exorcized how many curses?

admiration poured out for satoru quicker than he could extend out a glass to hold it all. it was heartwarming to see. part of you wished people would treat him like this always, in secret hopes he’d be gentler on himself on the bad days. or maybe they already did, and it just wasn’t enough.

it was hard to hear everyone speaking when you were thinking so loud. you caught yourself staring at your boyfriend for longer than you think was normal.

he was the sun. the burning, beautiful, sustaining sun. people turned to him instinctively like sunflowers do when they want to flourish. like the sun, it felt like satoru was bound to detonate at any point–by the time you knew, it’d be over already. fleeting, warm, quick, yet merciless. 

do the people basking in his warmth know that it’s the warmth of a man who lit himself on fire?

mankind could never land on the sun. you’d burn up before you could even truly appreciate it. maybe these people were appreciating him from a safe distance. close enough, but never close enough to scald themselves or be swallowed up in the atmosphere. 

if he was the sun, you weren’t sure what that makes you.

a close planet orbiting nearby? an asteroid? maybe you’re a lone astronaut, untethered in the vastness of it all. with the sun loving you from afar, as it usually does. 

you weren’t sure if you liked the answer, or the implication of it all. it was time for a drink. 

when satoru had a spare moment to breathe, you pulled him away to head to the bar and get a drink. you hugged him a little bit tighter than usual, opting to hold onto his arm instead of just his hand.

“you okay there?” he asked.

you nodded, smiling at him and rubbing his arm. you’d thought yourself into a worry, is all, there was no use in getting him mixed up in it as well. 

“i’m okay! just meeting a lot of people tonight,”

“sorry, i’m sure it’s overwhelming, sweetie,”

“i don’t mind it. i like hearing all of your stories from work,”

you reach the bar and he leans on it, looking at you fondly.

“really~? you like hearing all these stories about your big, bad boyfriend saving the day, huh?”

you roll your eyes at him playfully, trying to suppress a smile.

“mmm, it’s gone. you ruined it,”

he cocks his head smiling, drawing a little nonsensical pattern on your arm while he admires you.

maybe you couldn’t be the sun. but you could get as close as you wanted to it. he accepted you into his atmosphere with open arms.

“don’t pretend you don’t love it, baby,”

you look away as the bartender approaches, smiling gently. 

“something like that,”

you place your order, chatting with the bartender about another patron. 

unbeknownst to you, satoru had been approached by a woman he’d worked with many years ago. she greeted him with a warm hug, touch lingering on him a little too long, eyes traveling too south before talking only about what she’s been up to. 

by the time you’d gone back to him with your drink, satoru was holding a small shot glass in hand. 

“i’ve been treated to a shot! lucky me,” he said. 

you shift your eyes between him and the woman across from him, unsure what was going on. before you could decide, satoru was rubbing your lip with a lemon wedge. 

you couldn’t even wipe the juice dribbling from your chin before watching your boyfriend lick salt off the back of his hand and slam back his drink. 

and then he turned to you, grabbing your face to kiss you incredibly obnoxiously in front of this woman. 

it felt like he’d taken all the air out of your lungs. he was electric. 

and he just took a shot, apparently. 

he turns back to the woman, who was still watching—half in disgust.

“you said it was salt, tequila, and lemon for the order, right?” he asked. his hand moved back down to its rightful position hovering just above the shelf of your butt. 

the poor woman could barely speak. it’d become obvious that she’d bought the shot for him, hoping that a mere tequila shot would have him head over heels for her. all she did was nod, a little bit perplexed and a lot a bit embarrassed. 

“thanks for the shot!” 

satoru turned away from the defeated woman, guiding you back towards the bartender on the other end of the counter. 

“feelin’ dangerous tonight, huh?”

“i’m not gonna turn down anything free,” 

you tap your finger on the counter, mulling it over. 

dramatically pouting, you smile up at him, “you hate alcohol though,” 

he smiles down at you, motioning the bartender over. 

“might as well go all in, yeah?”

he orders ‘whatever you’re having,’ opening a tab while taking a sip and wincing at the taste of it. he’s trying, at least, but his dramatics were pulling out all the stops tonight. 

satoru made his way through the party, socializing with nearly every group of people he could find. it was almost as if being alone would kill him. 

you know how sharks continue moving so that they can stay alive? satoru had to have evolved from them. he couldn’t sit still. 

that was the first indication that he’d had too much to drink. his aversion to alcohol left your oh-so-strong boyfriend with the worst alcohol tolerance you’ve ever seen.

one tequila shot with a drink and a half—he’s already thinking hard about every word that comes out of his mouth. 

his hand never left the small of your back. first moving you like a personal shield in front of him when you arrived, he’s now shifted to using you as a point of balance. 

the night flew by when you turned your attention solely on him. you knew he’d be okay, ultimately, and you cut him off before he did anything embarrassing. but seeing him so inebriated was an unfortunate turn of character. 

“ready to go?” you asked. you and satoru were one of the few left, as everyone else had decided to continue the night at a different club. 

you’d figured satoru wouldn’t mind if you cut the night a little bit short. 

“mhm~” 

satoru spoke slowly, eyes closed as he shifted his body weight more onto you. you couldn’t recall how long you’d been sitting in this booth, but you figured you’d fare better back at your apartment. 

you helped him get up, saying goodbye to the remaining sorcerers as you walked the both of you out to the car. 

satoru ran to open your door for you, as he usually did. just a little bit slower, and definitely more intentional this time. 

“baby, you’re too drunk to drive,” you laughed, “c’mon, get in,” 

he looked at the open car door, not hearing a word you just said to him. 

once it’s processed, he closes that door and speed walks to the other side of the car, opening the driver’s side and motioning you to get in. 

all you can do is smile. 

you kiss him on his hand as you pull it off the door. 

“thank you, love”

he looks at you dumbly, waiting for something. 

“can i have a kiss?” 

he didn’t have to ask for permission for that, and you weren’t really sure why he was now. but you were cold, tired, and ready to go to sleep. 

“i’ll give you one if you get in the car and buckle up,”

you’d barely finished the sentence before satoru was running to his side, getting in and buckling up. by the time you’d caught up to him and sat in your own seat, he was leaning over the center console waiting for his prize. 

so stupid, you thought. so cute.

leaning in, you kissed him as if he was made of glass. as he deserved to be kissed. and loved. gently, kindly, softly. he was easy to love. 

he desperately tried to make the kiss deeper, gently moaning into your mouth and speeding up his pace in hopes that you’d catch on. 

you did. you’re a smart one. 

but he didn’t have to know that. 

you let him kiss you as long as he wanted. indulging every swipe of his tongue, answering all of his unsung moans with one of your own, smiling into his mouth so he could taste how happy he made you. 

maybe drunk satoru was good. 

you pulled away. 

“we have to go home, babe,”

satoru hummed in disapproval, dramatically turning out towards the window in defiance. 

“why don’t you love me?”

a little giggle escaped you at his pouting. always so dramatic. 

“sorry, you’re right,” you giggled. you reached for his hand as you began to drive, “i’ll be more considerate in the future,”

“please and thank you,” 

his actions weren’t matching his words. while he threw one of his appropriately nicknamed “toru tantrums,” his fingers found their way to your thigh as he took hold for an ounce of affection. 

you’re convinced he’d explode if he wasn’t touching you for one second. 

the rest of the drive home was uneventful. every five minutes or so, satoru would say “pull over, i’m gonna throw up,” only to follow up with “false alarm!” 

it was hard to believe him after the third time. 

luckily, you both got home in one piece—with no vomit anywhere in sight. you’d consider that a win. 

you help satoru out of the car, his eyes barely open as the two of you walk back into your apartment. 

he quickly turned away from you, throwing up in a bush in the garden outside your building. you rubbed his back gently, trying to soothe him without getting sick yourself. 

it passed, as it always does. but he looks pale, drained, and just a little bit pathetic. 

“i’m just glad it didn’t happen in the car,” he says flatly. 

rather than kicking him while he’s down, you opted for being doting and sweet. 

“feelin’ better now, sweetie?” 

satoru swallows hard, leaning his weight onto you as he struggles to keep his eyes open. 

“i’m never drinking again,”

at least he’s honest, you think, you had to give him that. 

“let’s get to bed, satoru,” you laugh, “i’ll take care of you, ‘kay?”

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Bradley wakes up beside you, tensions boil over.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, bickering and teasing through the chapter, mlre warnings to be added on a chapter by chapter basis. 18+ minors dni, wc 4.6k

…

Turning onto his side reminds him that he’s not at home. His cheek meets the edge of the mattress, his arm already hanging freely off of it. He groans softly, then clears his throat, but otherwise makes no effort to move.

Your fingers curl and then uncurl, fiddling with the edge of the bedsheet. You’ve been up for twenty minutes now, staring at the man in the bed opposite you. He has kicked the covers off at some point in the night, discarded his belt too. His khaki shorts are still on, just unbuttoned for comfort.

He’s laying on his front, one arm bent and tucked under his pillow to support his head. Ashamedly, your eyes keep wandering back to the same thing. That long, even line down the stretch of his back. Starting at the waistband of the shorts, extending up along a plain of tanned, freckled skin, onto broad, thick shoulders. Before this, you’ve never thought about what Professor Bradshaw had looked like under those one-size too big button up shirts he wears.

Even his breathing is just so heavy.

Routinely, he’ll shift, pressing his face into the pillow and rocking his hips a little to try to find comfort again. Behind you, the sun has risen, casting a golden shadow over half of the lake, and, incidentally, Bradley too. Before now, you’ve never noticed quite how many freckles he has.

Finally, reminding himself that he’s got a hungover nineteen year old to go and reprimand, he forces himself to blink a few times. After opening his eyes for the first time, he’s somewhat aware of your presence. It isn’t until maybe the third blink that he finally draws his brows together, lifts his head and squints at you.

You stare back at him as he mumbles your name, his voice deep and gruff from a night of sleeping with his lips slightly parted.

“Are you watching me sleep?” He pushes himself up a little more, turning so that he’s sitting up in bed. Curls a mess, still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, rolling those thick shoulders to stretch them.

“We need to talk.”

“Jesus Christ,” He scoffs, pressing the base of his palm into his eye socket in an attempt to wipe the blur from his vision. “Can you let me wake up first?”

It’s already dawning on him that he made a dumb decision in falling into this bed last night. He probably shouldn’t have left Luke alone with Robin. Even if he had, he shouldn’t have let himself into your room. Natasha would’ve gotten him a different room in a heartbeat. He had just been so exhausted, and your door was right there.

“You were in the military?” It wasn’t what the topic of conversation was supposed to be about, you’ve just never noticed that silver-balled chain dangling around his neck before. Bradley glances down at the tags resting against his bare chest and rubs at his eye again.

“Navy, for a bit.” He tells you, the sleep starting to clear from his voice. Six years, actually. He shipped out at eighteen and came back a man.

“Did you go to Vietnam?” That’s always the question that follows, and when you’re a man who turned eighteen in 1971, there’s usually one answer.

He turns his head and looks across at you, “Only for a couple months.” Finally, he takes note of his half awake state and lifts a hand to try to tame his curls. Twisting them apart and brushing them back off of his face. “Why are we talking about the Navy?”

“Because I didn’t know that you served,” You reply, lifting your hands away from the covers and instead toying with your nightgown. Bradley watches your hands fiddle in the lemon coloured material, thinking back to the conversation he had had with Luke. He’d been expecting something uglier. It’s old-fashioned, but he doesn’t hate it. “You just don’t seem like the type—“

“I’m not.” Bradley interrupts you. He pushes himself up from the twin bed and stands straight, stretching his arms above his head and craning his neck from side to side.

He looks bigger without his clothes on. All three buttons on his shorts popped open revealing the waistband of white boxers inside. A steady trail of brown hair extending from his bellybutton to that waistband, stretching from the middle of his chest across his pecs. His biceps flexing as he tucks his arms behind his head.

“Do I have something on my face?” It’s more of a groan as he stretches out again, he peeks his eyes open to remind you that you’re staring at him.

“You have a lot of nerve,” You push yourself up swiftly. Here we go. He raises his eyebrows, intrigued but far from intimidated. You walk closer, barefoot and dressed in that cute little nightie. “First you let yourself in here and pass out next to me—“

“I was halfway across the room and in a different bed, it wasn’t—“

“Then,” You interrupt, talking louder to him, “You keep me up with your snoring—“

“I don’t snore.” He tries, still calm as you stomp around the twin bed to get to him, poking your index finger into his toned chest.

“And don’t act like I don’t know what you did last night, Bradshaw. One phone call and I can have you fired.”

Bradley’s lips quirk at the fact you think you have that power, but his brows knit together. “What do you think I did?”

“You! And Natasha!”

“Are friends, yes.” He’s talking down to you, slow and soft like you’re stupid. You smack his chest with the base of your palm, then point at him again. He looks down at the digit pressing into his skin, then back at you seriously.

“Were all over each other on the balcony last night!” You correct him. He glances down at your finger on his skin once again. You consider stepping back a little so that you don’t have to look up at him quite as much, but stay where you are.

He lifts his hand and wraps it over the top of yours, taking it away from his skin, holding it just a little too tight. “I don’t know what you think you saw, or what you think you know, but I can assure you that whatever it is, won’t get me fired.”

“She’s married! Do you have no respect for her marriage, if not her as a person?”

He stares at you. You can see it in his face that he’s trying not to smile. He looks down at your hand in his and examines your engagement ring. It’s a pretty sizeable rock on that band, but that’s no surprise.

“I respect Natasha,” Bradley decides, lifting those big brown eyes to look at your face again. “Enough to know that she's a grown up and can make her own decisions.”

He lets go of your hand and reaches for the buttons on his shorts. Your gaze falls to track the movement of his hands. He buttons them slowly, watching you watch him.

“If the Dean knew that you were—“

“Are you going to tell him?” Bradley prompts, stepping invasively closer to you. His brows seem to be permanently drawn together when he’s talking to you. Your neck leans back further so that you can keep your eyes on his face. “If I go home, so do you. Meaning you don’t graduate, genius. How’s your Dad going to take that one?”

Your eyes widen and then narrow.

“It’s no wonder that all Natasha wants you for is sex — I don’t think that any woman could put up with you for longer than that.” You decide. He stares back at you, lips quirking to let you know that he’s going to be harsh before he even speaks.

“And what would you know about sex?”

He knows. He watches you react to his words try to piece together who told him or why he thinks it’s acceptable to mock you for it. Truthfully, Zoey had drunkenly giggled it last night. He was standing behind her with her hair scooped messily into a ponytail, averting his gaze as she puked into the toilet, when she had sat back and wiped her mouth.

“Hey, Bradley, did you hear that your — star pupil hasn’t even fucked her own fiancée? — She’s — a virgin.” Zoey had hiccuped, grinning amusedly.

You’re quiet for long enough that he stands there and readies himself for you to try to hit him, he knows better than to leave himself open to you.

Then, you exhale slowly and stand up a little straighter, like that makes any difference in the way he stands over you.

“You’re going to start tutoring me, starting tomorrow.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because if there’s any chance that I’m not going to pass this class then I’ll just send the both of us home today, I swear to god.” Your fists ball at your sides. He stares back at you, understanding your rationale for maybe the first time since he met you. “Either you make sure I pass, so this whole circus is worth it — or we’re both fucked.”

His lips quirk. That’s the first time he’s heard you swear. Sounds awfully grown up spilling from your lips like that. He gives you a quick once over, trailing his gaze from your bare feet to the way your lips are pursed at him.

“I’m not going to do the work for you.” He decides. If there was enough room between you, he might’ve crossed his arms over his chest. If it wasn’t so hot from the window being open and the baking morning sun creeping in through the window, he might have stayed longer. His hand cups your waist as he pushes you out of his way and steps around you. “Get Pasquale to give you his book, read chapters two and three before tomorrow.”

And with that, he leaves your room. His belt, shirt and shoes remain on your floor. He passes Robin in the hallway, wearing one of Luke’s striped t-shirts, ignores her completely and swings the door to his own room open.

Robin winces at the sound of Bradley yelling as she renters her own room. She stops, her gaze falling down to the unmade bed and Bradley’s belt, shirt and shoes on the floor. She lifts her gaze to look at you. You scowl instantly.

“Got sick of waiting, huh?” Robin’s tone is dripping with mockery as she steps past you, barefoot and not wearing a single item of her own clothing.

You’re tempted, then for the first time, to shove her, but don’t. You let her walk past, but holding your tongue is too much to ask.

“Not all of us are as easy as you.” You remind her

“Prude.” She spits, shooting you a venomous look over her love-bitten shoulder. She doesn’t even have time to turn before you lurch forwards and grab a handful of her hair, tearing her backwards.

Lake Como begins to rise, peaceful and quiet outside of the open window. It’s going to be a beautiful day. Golden rays of sunlight across the still water of the lake, a gentle breeze and a freshness in the air.

Downstairs, from the breakfast patio, Natasha sips on her espresso as Bradley pulls the two of you off of each other. His voice carries through the valley, disrupting her breakfast guests as he reprimands the two of you for your childish behavior.

Your punishment is to be exactly where he can see and hear you, for the rest of the day. At ten, sharp, you sit on his left while Robin sits on his right. All three of you looking equally miserable.

You’re being spoken to as a group by an older man, he’s grey all over and sun-spotted, but you can tell he would have been handsome in his day. He’s telling you all about Lake Como’s history.

“In 49 BC Como town came into its own under the rule of Julius Caesar,” His accent is thick but his English is good, he has grown around the tourists and knows exactly how to talk to them. “Who populated the town with its first 5,000 inhabitants and named the lake Larius. Como itself was known as Novum Comum and played host to famous authors such as Pliny the Elder and Pliny the Younger during this time.”

Bradley breaks his gaze to scan across his students quickly. Abigail is taking notes, an Italian dictionary poking out of the top of her backpack with various sticky notes poking out of it. Luke’s enthralled, watching intently with his lips parted. You’re looking down. He leans forwards and cranes his neck to get a better look at you. You’re sitting up straight, frowning down at Pasquale’s book.

More notably, the artwork on the left page. It’s a Florentine painting from the sixteenth century of two women. Nobles, both of them. One of them’s sprawled out across a bed, her undergarments bunched, breasts exposed. Her modesty would be too, if it wasn’t for the second woman with her face buried between the gasping woman’s legs. He studies your expression, unimpressed by how you’re scowling at the work instead of just reading.

Reaching over two students, he taps harshly on the back of your head and points towards the front, “Pay attention.”

You look up quickly and snap the book closed. Bradley stares at you. You stare forwards, trying to focus on the lecture after what you had just been reading. You’re certain that if your father had bothered to look over the syllabus, he wouldn’t have cared so much about you taking this class.

“The stunning scenery also attracted artists such as Byron, Wordsworth and Shelley, acting as a muse to many poems including ‘The Daisy’ by Tennyson and ‘Cadenabbia’ by Longfellow.”

The furthest thing from your mind, truthfully, is Alfred Tennyson. If you were really being honest, the one thing on your mind is the image of Bradley standing at the front of the hall, reading aloud what you had just read. Hearing the words pour off of his tongue. Maybe during a morning lecture, where his voice would have been gruff and deep like you had heard this morning.

The lecture continues on and, as much as Bradley wishes he could pay attention, he glances across at you periodically. You’re still making that face. Like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. He doesn’t get it, nor does he get you — you’re acting like the required reading for his class is porn. Turning his gaze to the water behind Guiliano’s lecture, he considers that for you it probably is.

He almost scoffs at the idea. Some sixteenth century painting being radical is such a foreign idea to him. He thinks of being eighteen, and impressed by the nude pictures on lighters and playing cards in the Navy. Impressed by the women he met at ports who liked the look of his uniform. Impressed by Natasha and everything she had taught him.

By the time it came to seeing that painting, calling it explicit was far from his mind.

“Great composers like Liszt and Verdi were also inspired by the lake. Many poems have been written about Lake Como both historically and more recently, but it’s not hard to see why the unrivalled beauty of the lake would inspire even the most amateur to put pen to paper.” Breeze carries forwards and sends Guiliano’s hair brushing back off of his forehead as he speaks. Bradley catches you turn out of the corner of his eye and looks. Meeting his gaze, you swallow and look quickly back to the water.

The morning passes slowly, it feels like Bradley’s eyes are burning into your back but maybe that’s just the warming sun. Lunch is quick, Bradley sits with Natasha and her husband. Her hand sits on top of her husband’s, diamond sparkling in the light.

Bradley stares at it as he eats his salad. The sapphire he had given her half a decade ago was prettier with her skin tone, but that’s at the bottom of the Mediterranean now.

After that, more lectures — then free time around the lake. This time, the students have organized to take a trip up to one of the towns further along the lake driven by Pasquale.

It’s less humiliating that you haven’t been invited now, because at least you’ve got the excuse of being stuck in the library of the hotel with Bradley all afternoon.

Gaze focused down, you watch the way Bradley scrawls across the page, his handwriting legible but not exactly neat. His hand’s just gripping the pen, but you can’t help but think of the way it had curled into her hair. Being six years old and having your ponytail pulled on the playground feels far from this.

You’ve been at this for a while, and it’s clear that you’re both equally irritated by each other. Slamming the pen down, he takes one look at your face and knows you’re about to ask him if he’s sure this translation that he has given you even makes sense.

“Don’t.”

You close your mouth, scowling across at him. He leans across the table and points towards the bottom of the dictionary, where a brief explanation of the Latin term you’re looking for exists.

“Stop getting yourself so mad,” He tells you calmly, shaking his head. “You’re bad at it because you don’t practice. Take a breath, think about it. It’s going to get easier.”

That’s the first nice thing he has said to you since you got here. You press your lips together, sigh, and then wet them with your tongue, trying to focus. He studies you from across the desk, each of you soaked in warm afternoon sunlight, the floor length windows open, the breeze soft. There’s an artificial smell of citrus in here.

You look back down to the work and exhale softly. Your chest rises and falls, the pale blue of your shirt catching his eye, just briefly.

“So, you didn’t like chapter two of the book, huh?” Maybe he thinks that this is an icebreaker of sorts. Your gaze is heavy, lifting slowly from your work to stare at him. He feels the need to elaborate instantly. “The painting.”

Suddenly the translation of the word fortuitous is a lot more interesting than it had been. Bradley taps his fingers against the desk as you avoid the discomfort of meeting his gaze.

“I just mean—“

“I don’t see why it should be in an academic text.” You say simply. He can tell that his question has annoyed you, but most things he says annoy you, so he moves swiftly on.

There’s a long pause between the two of you.

“Okay, you should know that I’m asking this seriously — so don’t bite my head off,” Bradley rests his palms flat on the aged, rust coloured wood, then leans forwards. His face is serious, his eyes big and round. “But, do you even know what my class is called?”

Sunlight peeking in from behind his shoulder, bathing the room and everything in it in a honeyed gold. The heat from the day starting to ebb away, a breeze from across the lake blowing at the curtains just slightly. No birds, no bustle outside — everyone’s either at dinner or getting ready for dinner. Everything in this valley is calm except you.

“Yes,” You bite, scowling across at him from over the top of the far too detailed painting in front of you. “Classics. You keep saying it.”

“Yeah, classics is the subject. But do you know what my class — the class that you picked, and enrolled in, is called?” Bradley asks slowly, like he’s just trying to be patronizing.

“It’s about Roman literature.” You answer, knowing that you’ve failed to produce a title, but are along the right track anyway.

“My class is called ‘Sexuality in Roman Culture and Literature’,” Bradley shares finally. You sit across from him, blank-faced. He taps the table softly, staring back at you, enjoying this probably a little bit too much. “That’s why the book is so ‘graphic’.”

Catherine — your maid-of-fucking-honour — enrolled you in a class on sex. You’re going to murder her. This cruel joke might have been funny if it hadn’t cost you your summer.

“But, then again, you would know that if you had bothered—“

“Oh my god, will you shut up about my attendance?” You grumble, slamming your pencil down onto the table. He stares at you, unimpressed and clearly biting his tongue. “We both know I’m here for credits and not because I care about the way people had sex a couple hundred years ago. Just do what they pay you to do and teach.”

Bradley’s brows draw together as he leans closer, his frame dwarfing the table. There’s a lingering silence as he stares across at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I just—“

“No,” Bradley holds a hand up and pushes himself up from his seat. Standing, the table seems even smaller. You feel even smaller, tipping your head back to look up at him. His eyes darken as he squints. “You either learn to watch your mouth around me or you head home and admit that you fucking failed. You hear me?”

You stare up at him, swallowing thickly as shame burns through you. The smell of dust hurts your nose, the warm, dust-covered lights make your eyes tired. You want to go home.

“Tell me that you understand. In Latin.”

Another beat of silence. The look on your face tells you that he’s far from joking. Sighing quietly, he watches as you bow your head and open the dictionary.

He gives you a moment, just hulking over you as you search for the right term. Finally, you lift your gaze and spit it out, quietly. He glances down at the page.

“Work on your grammar.” Bradley tells you, slowly relaxing back down into his seat and tucking it in. “I’m going to give you a play. I want you to read it, I think it’ll help you with some context clues.”

Just like that. He relaxes — well, relaxes as much as you’ve ever seen him be capable of — again.

You exhale. Without realizing, you had been holding on to that one breath the entire time. Your gaze drops, falling down to his rolled up sleeves, the veins snaking out from under the white linen and down across the backs of his hands.

You wonder if Natasha gets him wound up like this.

The second that the thought crosses your mind, you squash it. Staring wide-eyed at the page in front of you, you’re at war with your mind. And he’s just sitting there, head leaned back, palms flat, staring at the ceiling. He has no fucking idea.

Staring at the ceiling is truly the only way forward. He can’t stand another minute of having to watch your lips purse when you’re staring at him.

It’s so difficult, trying not to hold something that you don’t even remember against you. He knows how blacked out you were that night, you barely remembered your own damn name.

He remembers that stupid, blue fucking dress. It came in around the waist and had these thin straps, more of a powder blue than any kind of stronger color. He remembers the snow on his car windshield, still falling. He remembers his heaters up as high as they would go and his coat around your shoulders.

Finding you sitting on the side of the road, in the fucking snow, and bundling you into his car, trying to keep you awake.

And then, the two of you sitting outside of your childhood home and your freezing cold hands wrapping around his palm, pleading with him not to make you go inside. He had only seen you a handful of times at this point, but he was sure you weren’t a bad kid. You just had shitty friends.

He lifts his gaze now and studies you as you card through the information before you. Lips pursed.

“You can’t sit in my car all night, kid.” Bradley said quietly, watching you like you were something foreign to him. You blinked back, saying nothing, but looking so sad.

“I just — please don’t make me go in there.” Your voice trembled. Maybe from exhaustion, mostly from fear. Bradley knew what fear sounded like. His face creased with concern, but he hadn’t budged. You frowned at him, eyes wide and pleading, “Please.”

You must have been able to tell on his face that he was about to disagree with you. You sat forwards, reaching out to rest your manicured palm against his thigh. His gaze hadn’t faltered from your face. He had been here before, with love sick girls who seemed to think he was going to be their saving grace.

He was nicer about it back then. He was trying to be nice to you. With your smudged mascara and your missing boyfriend and your quivering bottom lip. He should’ve kicked you out of that damn car and marched you inside right then. You were still too drunk to sit still, swaying just slightly — he wanted to give you a minute to collect yourself before your parents saw you at least.

He sat there for a moment, just trying to think about what to do with you. And then, seeming to think that this would get you your way, you had sat up and you’d kissed him. Turned your head twenty degrees to the left, lips just slightly parted, pressing softly into his. Pillowy and purposeful.

He swallows, glancing down at the page in front of him. God, he wishes you hadn’t done that. But, he can’t help but wonder where that odd little impulse had come from. What had driven that shivering girl to drive forwards and kiss him, clinging onto his shirt like it was some kind of life preserver — and where was she now?

Certainly not sitting in front of him and too timid to look at a painting.

You continue on with your studies, pretending like you aren’t thinking about him back in that lecture hall, his voice dripping like honey as he tells you every intricacy that that painting detailed.

Bradley crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at the details chiseled into the ceiling. He can’t help but wonder where those impulses go when you’re with your fiancé. You’d been damn near climbing into his lap after an hour alone with him — and yet, Malcolm has made it through four years of high school and three years of college without fucking you.

He curses himself. He shouldn’t think about it that way. He shouldn’t think about it at all. He glances down quickly as your foot knocks into his and withdraws as quickly as it has inched forwards.

Looking back up, you’re looking at him again. Just fleetingly, and you’re back to your work, and he’s back to thinking about you fucking kissing him. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the knee length nightgown, or the weird reaction to the painting — or, you at all, really.

So, the two of you let the silence linger between you. Even as he shifts, pushing his leg forward and slotting his foot between both of yours under the table, letting it linger there.

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice e @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @cherrycola27 @sugarcoated-lame

[saerotonins]

jotaro and boobies

ft. kujo jotaro x gn!reader (headcanons + scenario)

content warnings: 4taro, fluff, jotaro being a cute pookie, suggestive (? but just to be sure), reader has boobs, just some corny shit i decided to write, not beta read

wc: 1127

while i definitely agree that he's a thigh man, he appreciates boobies too!

any size, any kind, his hands WILL fit

sometimes or most of the time it's not even sexual, he just likes to touch them because he likes the feel of them

a free stress ball for him if you will

at this point your bras are useless, what's the point of having them when his hands are RIGHT THERE

would be willing to be your bra if he could tbh

he's kinda obsessed with them and would be glad if you're down to prance around your shared apartment with no top on

on a particularly really stressful day, he just wants to lay his hands on your boobies and call it a day

maybe squish them but not too much

would probably fall asleep while he holds them

the hold he has on them is really comfortable, this man's hands are the perfect cups (hah, see what i did there, ok bye)

jotaro came home later than usual due to some deadlines that he had to catch from office. while this is not unusual, today is particularly draining for him since his research partner decided to be more difficult than they were before.

"you're still awake," was the first thing he said the moment he entered the door. the sight before him is welcoming and cozy. with you sitting comfortably on the couch with your pajamas and socks and the comforter hanging around really made you look inviting. immediately, he somehow felt his shoulders lighten up a bit.

his voice made you look in his direction and he could clearly see how happy you were to finally see him home, safe and sound. these are the mundane things he looks forward to every day. the domesticity makes his heart full and happy, and while he'd be damned to admit it out loud, it's something that he wouldn't trade for the world. 

you stood up and walked up to him to greet him with a chaste kiss on the lips, "welcome home, darling, food's waiting for you in the dining table, come?" jotaro nods to your invitation. you held his hands as you gently guide jotaro towards the dining room. the patter of your sock-clad feet as you walk sounds relaxing, he thinks. 

"the food is a little cold but we can heat it up," you said as you sat, "this is fine, i'm starving," you knew what he said is extremely true since you noticed that he immediately inhaled the food served in front of him. 

jotaro must have noticed that despite being seated with him, you were not eating, "why aren't you eating?" he asked out of concern.

"i already ate a while ago, i just want to make sure you'll have a hearty dinner since you seem tired when you came in," your answer made pause as he chewed his food.

he cannot believe how lucky he got. if he told his teenage self that he would find love that will wait for him until the sun sets and prepare him a meal ready to eat when he comes home, dote on him on the regular and makes him feel special, he would've been beaten up. 

"something wrong, dear?" 

your voice seems to snap jotaro out of his thoughts. he shakes his head and continues on with his dinner.

by bedtime, jotaro settles himself in bed while trying to read a book. while the dinner and shower he had earlier somehow let some tension out, he cannot help but feel like it's not enough. something is still weighing his heart down and he couldn't shake it away even if he tries.

the comfortable silence in your bedroom is suddenly interrupted by your phone.

"what's that?" 

"oh, i'm just watching a drama that i started yesterday," 

jotaro hummed as acknowledgment. while he would like to stay up with you and keep up with your interests, the yawn he let out thinks otherwise. 

"you should sleep now sweetheart, you're pretty tired today, i'll wear my earphones so you won't get bothered," you didn't hear an answer from him, instead, you felt him shift on the bed and put his arms around your waist. a smile was brought up on your face. such a simple gesture yet you know it's jotaro's way of saying that he appreciates you even in his worst days.

a few minutes passed, the silent whirl of your air conditioner enveloped your room. while all is well and cozy, jotaro still couldn't help but feel like something is missing. exhaustion from his body telling him to sleep, the warmth of your body beside his, the early call time that he has to meet tomorrow, yet none of those things were enough to make him fall asleep.

until jotaro had an idea. 

he initially thinks it's stupid but it's worth a try.

while you were focused on the show that you were watching, you felt jotaro poking your shoulders. 

"what's wrong, why aren't you asleep yet?" you asked jotaro while you take your earphones off.

there was a slight pause in the air and you swear you feel the hesitation but opt to let him speak once he's ready.

"can i– can i touch your breast?" jotaro feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. he feels like a stupid teenager for asking such a ridiculous request.

while you were shocked to say the least, entertaining a simple request from your beloved shouldn't be a problem

"okay," jotaro could practically hear the amusement on your voice but he couldn't care less. once the green light is given to him, you can feel his calloused yet gentle hands go under your shirt and towards your boobs.

you feel him cup you breast gently, "is this fine?" you gave him a subtle nod. it's actually quite comfortable, you thought. his hands provided warmth and his hold is gentle enough not to hurt you, like his hand is a mold of your bosom.

you can hear jotaro release a sigh of relief in your ear and felt him cuddle closer towards you.

the two of you stayed that way while you continuously watch your show until some time, you felt his hold from your chest loosen, indicating that he finally fell asleep.

you smile at the thought and decided to close your phone and shut your eyes, ready to meet jotaro in your dreams.

ever since that faithful night, jotaro always asks if he could touch your breasts from time to time while you cuddle or take a nap if his day gets too overwhelming for him.

and you couldn't be any happier to oblige to his request.

[itsmealaiah]

Could I request another em fic where reader is Hailie’s friend or smth and it’s just like a “best friends dad” fic where it’s like forbidden but they’re just so drawn to each other. And could it have smut as well? I’m a sucker for forbidden relationship smut fics, especially ones where they get caught lmao I just read one where jughead caught reader fucking his dad lmao

yes.

fatal attraction

tags/ warnings: reader being hailie's best friend, p in v, age gap, reader and em going behind hailie's back, begging, cursing, dacryphilia, cloth around mouth (so hailie doesn't hear)

MDNI ⚠️

summary: being hailie's best friend includes some special privileges, including seeing the man you're strangely drawn to.

Your POV:

Hanging out with hailie at her dad's insanely large mansion, I'm sprawled across the couch, extremely comfortable, my head in her lap while she lays down as well, watching TV together. I had been here all day, just relaxing, going swimming or sitting outside a couple times, soaking up the beautiful sun, letting the warm rays consume and mark my skin with the yellow beams.

However, whenever me and hailie hang out, it's a golden opportunity for me and her dad, marshall, or marsh, my nickname for him. We've never told her, because it's mutual on both ends that she would lost her shit. So, we kept a vow of silence, going behind her back, keeping our little secret.

It wasn't really a big deal, we fucked every now and then, trying not to be too consumed by each other. But lately, I had grew more and more feelings for him, my attempts to push them down, to let them die only small hopes failing every time. "Hey y/n, I'm gonna make dinner, any special requests?" Hailie asked, lifting my head up from her waist, and I sat upright. "Hmm, maybe just pasta?" I questioned, my face curious. "Sure! sounds great, I could use the carbs" she laughed, and so did I.

My phone buzzed, the contact reading marsh. He was probably done with rehearsals, and en route home. I entered my passcode, and sure enough, the text read "hey, coming home now baby, how was your day?" I smiled, a small blush creeping across my face before I responded. "Good, how about yours? I'm at your place right now I waited a few moments, glancing at the TV and then back at hailie, my stomach craving the food. "It was fine, missed you though" the second text from him stated, my phone turning a bright shade of white. "The pasta's ready" Hailie called out. I walked over to the counter, sitting down on one of the stools.

"Who were you texting?" She asked suggestively, making me laugh. "Oh no one, just some dude" I shrugged it off. "Okay" She said, her words trailing off as she scrapped the noodles onto my plate. "It look delicious hailie, thank you" I compliment. I hear a door open, signaling marsh must be home. "hey dad!" She beamed, waving at him. I turned around as he was walking away, probably to get changed. I ate the rest of the pasta, and grabbed my belongings. "Thanks hailie, it was really fun today" I grinned, opening the door and leaving.

Well, not really. Me and marsh had come up with a plan a few weeks ago. I "leave", and go to his window. I knock carefully, trying to not make too much noise. "Hey baby" His voice is low and sultry when he opens it, pulling me in. "Good day?" I nodded as we made our way to the bed sitting in the middle of the room. He slowly pulled down my top, my breasts spilling out of the tiny bra I had chosen to wear today. "Fuck baby, you're killing me" He muttered, grabbing the small cloth we used each time, tying it around the back of my neck. "You gon' be a good girl for me?" Muffled noises could be heard from my lips, not escaping the mask, capturing each whine, each whimper.

"Ah ah ah baby, gotta stay quiet f'me" He whispered as his lips wrapped around my nipple, the hardened bud swelling against his tongue. He could feel everything through the small fabric, using it to his advantage. His eyes were hooded with lust and desire as he continuously tortured me, my back arching with every lick. He tore off my bra, shorts, and panties, leaving me completely exposed to him. His clothes followed mine, tossed to another part of the bedroom, as he spat on his hand, lubricating his dick.

He slowly slid in, each inch making me turn my head and bury my face into the pillows. I was blushing like crazy, even though we nad done this so many times before, too many times. "s'tight baby, ngh, feel so good" he moaned quietly, trying to cover his noises with his hand. "So wet, all for me, good girl" He whispered in the shell of my ear. His dick was easily leaving and re-entering my hole, covered in my juices.

"Oh babygirl, doin' do well, taking my cock so easily" He groaned. My legs were wrapped around his waist tightly, my eyes reeling from ghe pleasure. My mouth was open in a silent scream, even though he couldn't see it. "almost there, are you?" I nodded rapidly, and when he was going to finish, the door slammed open, my eyes meeting hailies.

Her jaw dropped, eyes widening at the sight of her dad fucking the living shit out of her best friend. "what the fuck" she sighed, walking out, closing the door behind her. My whole body was on fire, as he didn't stop, only going faster. "we're gonna finish this, you hear me?" He pulled the mask down so I could breathe properly. My mind was clouded with pleasure, so much so i didn't quite comprehend my next words.

"I love you!" I squealed, and he stopped.

"What?"

A/n: sorry if its bad 😭

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 9)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (9)

Masterlist (other parts here)

The sun was just starting to peak through the curtains when YFN’s phone rang.

“It’s Dory..” she gasped.

Lucy lifted her head with a groan, her mouth popping off her clit. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

YFN gave her a defiant look and answered the call. Lucy tried to start again, earning her a slap on the hand gripping her thigh.

“Hi Dory!”

“Hey mate! I haven’t had any date updates, are you free today?” YFN looked down at Lucy as she laid naked between her legs, watching her closely. Her head was cradled in her hands and her feet were kicking back and forth in the air like a child. What am I going to do with you? YFN thought with a fuzzy warm feeling inside her.

“Um… yeah.. about that.”

Lucy licked her gently from her wet hole, up to her throbbing clit. She jerked and gave her a stern look. Lucy replied with an innocent but obvious ‘that’s what you get’ look.

YFN reached down and took her hand, tangling their fingers to give Lucy the attention she wanted.

“Oh god… Lucy’s there right now isn’t she?”

“Uh… possibly.”

“Did you just answer the phone to me during sex?!”

“She sure did!” Lucy said loud enough for Jordan to hear.

YFN cringed. “Yes, I’ll be free today. But there’s not really much date to talk about to be honest..”

“Oh my god it just keeps getting worse. I’m hanging up.”

Lucy grabbed the phone. “Jords, it’s me. You can pick her up in an hour. I have training and I’ll be done with her then anyways.”

YFN sat up on her elbows and her mouth dropped open. She swore she could hear Jordan’s do the same. She slapped Lucy’s arm.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Just joking, I’ll never be done with her. But she’ll be free in an hour…. Jords?” She laughed, throwing the phone back onto the bed. “She hung up but knowing her, she’ll be here in an hour.”

“It’s scary how comfortable we already are with each other.”

Lucy grinned and kissed the inside of her thigh from her knee, back to YFN’s wet mess.

Lucy didn’t want to leave. Last night through to the morning had been the best time she’d had in her life. She’d never felt so seen, so loved, so able to be herself. Shit, she’d fallen hard and somehow, she was still falling.

“Maybe I should call her and cancel..” YFN whispered. They were fresh out of the shower and somehow had managed to put clothes on and not take them back off.

Lucy threw her head back and laughed. “You are not cancelling with Jordan because you can’t walk.”

YFN’s pressed her lips together, dimple slightly appearing. Her cheeks were red.

Lucy continued. “Go on, show me.”

She sighed and walked from Lucy to the other side of the room and back with a noticeable soreness. Lucy grinned, proud of herself. “Barely a limp.”

“I think it’s more accurately described as a waddle.” YFN pouted, embarrassed. “She’s traumatised.”

Lucy stepped close and gently cupped her soreness with the full palm of her hand. She leant forward and brushed her lips along her cheek to her ear and whispered huskily. “Don’t say it wasn’t worth it.”

YFN’s eyes closed, her hand brushed over the back of Lucy’s and she rubbed her cheek softly against hers. She turned, her lips parting on her cheek and just as Lucy thought she was about to say something cute she whispered. “You’re being cocky, Lucia.”

Lucy’s eyelids fluttered and her heart skipped a beat. If she didn’t know YFN like she did, she would have thought it was a warning, but she knew she loved her cocky.

She removed her hand, albeit a little grudgingly, and tangled their fingers. The relationship they shared was very much a complicated entanglement of sexual attraction and romantics, and it fit them both so perfectly that it was easy to switch between the two. She shivered at the feel of YFN’s lips on her jaw and had to muster up a lot of strength to pull away.

“Minimal walking today, please. Let me know where to pick you up from for our little date tonight.” Lucy was excited for their date. She’d said she was going to surprise her, but she didn’t know with what yet. She had so many ideas for what to do for their first date. Her main priority was that they didn’t have sex. They were romantics, after all, and wanted to get to know each other.

YFN smiled, squeezing her hand. “Message me when you’re free? Dory and I will most likely still be out by then.”

Lucy kissed her little dimple, nodding too eagerly against her face and YFN chuckled.

“It’s just so good to meet another Aussie. Little bit disappointed you don’t know the Tillies though.” Caitlin joked.

“Heeeey mate, I know the Tillies! I just… haven’t been to any games. You know what it’s like in Australia! It’s all footy and swimming.” YFN defended, becoming more Australian around a fellow Australian. “But I do hear you’re pretty amazing. You have a massive fan base.”

They’d just followed each other on Instagram and YFN paled at her 250k followers.

“Suck up,” she laughed and shoved her shoulder lightly.

The trio were sat in the stands watching Ireland play their last match of the international break. Jordan was good friends with Caitlin and Katie from her Arsenal days, and they used to live together.

“Oh shit.” YFN gasped as Katie tackled a player late. She wasn’t given a yellow, but she was warned and smiled at the referee as she was being told off.

“Aw, should have been a yellow to be fair.” Jordan laughed.

“You want her to get a yellow?” YFN enquired.

“Oh god no, but Katie being Katie always gets yellow carded. Past 10 matches in a row, isn’t it chicken?”

Caitlin nodded, clapping with the crowd. “Yep. But I think I lost count.”

“Katie McCard! Katie McCard!” Chanting started coming from the crowd and Katie gave them a cheeky look with a ‘shhh’ gesture.

The game continued and Katie was the most aggressive on the pitch. Caitlin was getting worked up and shouted every time someone tried to challenge Katie while Jordan and YFN laughed. Eventually Katie scored an absolute banger, smashing a left-footed long ball from outside the box. She ran over to the green Irish crowd, standing in front of the trio and put her arms out, listening to the crowds screaming for her. She winked at the trio. Her players quickly leapt on her and dragged her back into play.

The crowd was chanting for the rest of the match a loud and catchy song for Katie. “WE’VE GOT MCCABE. KATIE MCCABE. I JUST DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND. SHE PLAYS OUT ON THE WING. SHE HITS IT WITH A ZING. WE’VE GOT KATIE MCCABE.”

The chant was so catchy that all three of them were chanting with them amongst the deafening Irish supporters.

The game remained 1-0 and in the last 2 minutes, Katie was yellow-carded for an extra late tackle. She put her hands up in acknowledgement and jogged away from the referee grinning to herself. The crowd loved it more than her goal.

YFN admitted she was beginning to love the sport even more.

When Katie finished with her interview, she came over to the trio and gave both Caitlin and Jordan hugs, turning to YFN.

“Hiya! Nice to meet ya, I’m Katie. How’re ya doin’?” Her Irish accent was strong as she dragged YFN into a hug. “Caity and I have been dyin’ to meet ya, chicken has told us so much about ya!”

“All good things I hope.” YFN laughed.

“All good mate, all good. And to be honest with ya, every Aussie I’ve met is just top notch.”

“God those are some high expectations to live up to! You’ve been to Australia, right?”

“Oh yeah, World Cup last year. It was grand to tell ya the truth. I enjoyed it.”

“And still you’re just as pale,” Caitlin laughed.

Katie smacked her, flirting. “Have you seen my teammates, chick? I’m the tannest one here!”

They joined the Irish team at a pub to celebrate their victory, YFN meeting the whole team and their respective partners. They celebrated and bantered and YFN let herself have a few drinks and let go a little. Somewhere amongst her few drinks, the trio found themselves in a corner booth and they began teasing YFN about Lucy. They kept it private, respecting her privacy and just keeping it amongst the four of them. Katie and Caitlin knew very little about Lucy. She was private and kept her friends close. Jordan was respectful of that too, though most of what they knew about her was from Jordan. They knew Lucy had been single for a little while, and they knew her as an extremely competitive person but also someone who was respected and helped people, especially younger players. YFN thought they both seemed to admire Lucy, the way they spoke about her, and that made her heart swell a little bit with pride for her.

She missed her, a lot. She’d tried to distract herself all day amongst new friends, but Lucy was right there at the front of her mind. She told herself she was just a bit sex hungover from the night before, but she knew that was only a small part of it. She was falling.

YFN took her phone out to see it was overwhelmed with notifications. The trio had posted and reposted several photos together and tagged YFN. Her phone was blowing up and she could barely swipe without another notification popping up. She tried to stop the notifications but didn’t know how. She managed to open the most important ones, the messages from Lucy.

Lucy: The Irish girls know how to drink, be careful x

*Lucy Bronze MBE started following you.*

Lucy: Training finishing soon. Would you still like our date tonight?

Lucy: Having fun, are we?

The messages were recent, but she still felt bad she had become so distracted.

YFN: Yes, 1000% yes, I still want our date. You can come pick me up from the pub, or I can meet you somewhere?

YFN pressed send and a phone buzzed. She felt a presence and looked up from her phone, her eyes meeting Lucy’s. She was standing there in her football gear; white trainers, blue shorts, and her pale pink and blue England puffer jacket on. She’d managed to take out her contacts though and her green eyes shone mischievously behind her clear glasses. She purposely looked at her phone to read the message and then pocketed it, looking back at YFN.

“Hi, little one.” She held eye contact for a few seconds, relishing the look of surprise on her face before she looked at the trio who had fallen silent, watching the sexual tension unfold. “Mind if I join?”

“Hey mate!” Jordan jumped up and wrapped her arms around Lucy. “Missed you.”

Lucy gave her a strong hug back. “Alright, Jords?”

“Yeah, we had a great day. You’ve met Katie and Caitlin haven’t you?”

“Briefly I think,” she leant over the table and clapped hands with them both.

“Ohhhh, looks like we have an enemy in camp!” Katie laughed, a little tipsy, as Lucy had been cocky enough to wear her England kit to an Irish pub full of Irish players in kit.

“Attenzione pickpocket!” One of the Irish girls yelled from across the room.

The pub cracked up as Lucy slid into the booth to the left of YFN, her hand immediately going to grab the top of her right thigh with a reassuring squeeze. YFN loved this. She was possessive and not afraid to show it. Her arm across her body was welcomed and YFN felt natural to put one of her hands on Lucy’s, the other wrapping around her arm and resting on the outside of her bicep.

“How was training?” She asked, genuinely interested.

Lucy gestured to her knee which was bandaged. “Going to need an ice bath I think.”

YFN loved the way she said ‘bath’ like it ended with an ‘f’ instead of a ‘th’. She wanted to help her, to massage it or do something but was worried she’d do the wrong thing. Instead, she placed her hand on her knee and gently stroked it through the bandages reassuringly. She caught Lucy’s eye and saw a deep unrequited love there before Lucy managed to catch herself and looked away, smiling.

“Will you be right to play tomorrow, Luce?” Jordan asked.

She nodded. “Should do. I had a good chat with Sarina. Just need to rest my knee.”

“Can you play the whole 90?” Caitlin asked, curious.

“If my knee can take it. They can stretcher me off otherwise.”

Lucy caught YFN’s look of admiration and pride. Lucy shook her head as if to remind herself that yes, this is real and yes, she is just that amazing.

“So, what’s this then?” Katie asked a little slurred, gesturing between the two. The other two looked as if they wished she hadn’t.

Lucy and YFN both went to answer at the same time and cut each other off.

“No, you go ahead. I want to know what you were going to say.” Lucy teased, her thumb stroking her thigh in support.

“Way to put me on the spot,” she blushed. “I don’t think either of us know yet. We’re both just going with the flow.”

“I set them up though,” Jordan winked, proudly.

“Did you just?” Lucy said sceptically. “Please, tell us more.”

“Well I did buy you two that toy-” She said innocently but caught herself, slapping her hand up to her mouth with wide eyes.

Katie burst out into a loud laugh, holding her stomach while Caitlin’s mouth dropped before she started laughing with Katie.

 “I think you’ve had too much to drink, chicken,” Caitlin managed to get out.

Lucy looked to YFN to see if she was upset by Jordan’s comment. She only seemed a little embarrassed as she turned to Lucy. “But how did you know..” she stopped herself and pursed her lips, intending on continuing the question later.

“I told Lucy I’d bought it as a joke and stashed it at the bottom of your shopping bag.” Jordan snorted, now on her back like a bug, laughing as the other two wiped away tears.

“Okay Jords, I think you need some food to sober you up a bit,” Lucy said, giving her a disapproving look.

“Yeah you’re right. I’ll get some snacks for the table!”

“Ai, we need another round o’ drinks, we’ll be back in two. Can we getcha anything?” Katie asked.

Lucy and YFN shook their heads. When they were gone, YFN turned to Lucy who had her head leaning back against the booth, looking at her. “Well, you found me.”

“The bar was tagged on Instagram,” Lucy said, waiting to see if she thought she’d been too forward by seeing it online and coming. YFN didn’t seem phased and if she was being honest with herself, she actually really liked Lucy’s persistence. She felt present and supportive to her.

“I have the feeling you’ll always find me,” she said, also leaning her head back. “Would you like to go..?”

Lucy looked a little unsure and spoke softly, careful with her words. “I was actually going to ask you if we could do it another time.. my mood is not great with my knee playing up before tomorrow and I sort of want our first date to be perfect?”

“Oh Luce..”

“I don’t want to ruin this,” she whispered.

“But you came and found me anyways.”

“I needed to see you,” her husky voice gave YFN so much joy.

“I’m glad you came. We don’t have to do the date tonight, but we can still spend time together? I can cook dinner for you while you rest your knee..”

Lucy looked like she could cry. “I don’t want to be that person who brings down your mood. You look like you’re having fun with the girls.”

“They’re great, yes, but I will always rather be with you, regardless of your mood. I can see you’re stressed and upset. Let me ease some of that burden..”

Lucy sighed and thought. She was being offered the world by the person she wanted more than anything else in the world. She fought an internal battle of not wanting YFN to see her like this, and also wanting to just let go and let her in. “It’s taking a lot of effort to not show how stressed I am right now with my knee..”

YFN reached out and touched her face gently before her eyes flicked to the crowded bar and she pulled back. Lucy caught her wrist and pulled her hand back to her face. She didn’t mind the public display of affection. “I know.” She murmured. “Now let’s say goodbye and go back to yours so I can make you some food and ease some stress, okay? Raincheck on our first date.”

Lucy wasn’t being very vocal apart from the whimpers and ragged breathing, but YFN didn’t need that to know she was enjoying herself. She was practically dripping right into her mouth. The ice pack YFN had put on Lucy’s knee was resting on her shoulder lightly, cooling it.

“I… I... I..”

YFN lifted her head to give Lucy a moment of respite to use words. “Luce?”

“I didn’t want to have sex with you tonight.”

The comment could have been taken the wrong way, but YFN knew what she meant and smiled, tilting her head.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, I said to myself we weren’t going to because I wanted to make sure we both knew it wasn’t just about the sex.”

YFN held eye contact as she leaned forward and brushed her lips over Lucy’s folds. “I think we both already know this is much more than that. Now, Luce, I need you to do me a favour.”

She readjusted her glasses as she looked down at YFN. “Anything.”

“I need you to stop fighting your orgasm. It’s okay. You’re allowed to be the one receiving. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. And I promise that I’m really loving this too.”

Lucy almost came the moment her lips had touched her, and she was tense, trying to not show her vulnerability. But YFN was right. This was much needed stress relief before the game.

“It’s… hard for me. I’m not used to this..”

“I know, love. It’s okay, I have an idea.” YFN left the room for a few seconds and reappeared with some headphones. “I want you to wear these. I’m going to play some music for you so we can drown out some of the outside stressors.” She knelt on the bed next to a gloriously naked and wet Lucy Bronze and put the headphones gently over her ears, queuing up a few songs that would be perfect for the mood. Lucy looked up at her little dimply face with love and appreciation. She was right, a mountain of stress disappeared, replaced by soothing music. Bending down, she pressed a soft kiss to her lips, leaving her wanting more. She gave a questioning thumbs up to Lucy who nodded in response.

YFN settled back down and eased Lucy back into it with kisses and strokes over her body, focussing heavily on her knee and as close to it as she could get with the ice pack. She gently placed it over her shoulder and her lips again found Lucy. She knew Lucy wasn’t used to being put in a position like this where she was receiving, let alone the only receiver, and so she didn’t attempt to put her fingers inside of her. She did, however, push her tongue inside of her multiple times. She couldn’t resist. Lucy seemed to like this. She fucked her eagerly with her mouth, tempted to touch herself as she did. But she didn't. This was about Lucy. Lucy's undoing came with YFN’s work sucking and licking her clit. It put her into such a state that her back was arched hard against the bed, her body still resisting. YFN’s hands gripped her hips to ground her as she found Lucy’s most sensitive area and harassed it with her tongue. Lucy was more vocal when she couldn’t hear. Her groaning and whimpering and swearing filled the room, her hands gripping the bed hard either side of them, the bedsheets balled in her fists. She came when YFN’s hands stroked gently up her sides from her hips to her hardened nipples. She clenched hard as she came, her thighs squeezing YFN’s head, but she made sure she could continue sucking slower and slower to bring her down gently.

Lucy’s gasping and swearing was so loud that she would have worried if they were in an apartment, or hotel. Her body slumped onto the bed, her thighs releasing, arms outstretched.

YFN cleaned her up and tucked them under the covers, pulling Lucy to her. Lucy didn't fight it, she was far too tired. Half of her body was on top, and her head was up against YFN’s, hair wild and loose. The stress relief that had come from the shattering orgasm had her well and truly relaxed.

“Please come to my game tomorrow...” She murmured, and YFN wondered if she were sleep-talking.

“I’ll be there, Luce.” She reassured with a whisper and a kiss to her forehead. Lucy’s breathing changed to signal she was sleeping then.

This was the other Lucy. The rare one. Not the dominant and controlling one, this was the part of her she thought was broken, the part she thought no one could love, and no one was allowed to see. This was the reason she was so fiercely strong and independent, to compensate for the side of her that just wanted to be loved and accepted. The part that swung arms with her mascot and took care of the new kids in the squad. This was her core. Everything else was just.. symptom.

YFN stroked her hair until she too fell asleep, her lips gently touching Lucy’s forehead.

[5starluvr]

Link up

Paring:Yang Jeongin × Reader

Genre:fluff,angst(just a tiny bit)

Warnings:fighting

Spider Kids

Something sweet before It gets angsty again ~

"Jeongin, you'll be partnered with Y/n," Ms. Jung declared, her voice booming across the classroom.

Jeongin's heart lurched. Y/n, the brilliant girl who seemed to exist on a different academic plane altogether? He stole a glance, catching her surprised gaze before she quickly returned to her meticulously highlighted notes.

The initial awkwardness was palpable. Summoning his courage, Jeongin mumbled a hesitant hello. Y/n offered a shy smile in return, her usual focus on academics momentarily broken. They settled on bioluminescence, a topic Y/n suggested with a shy smile. As they delved into research, a hesitant camaraderie blossomed.

———

One afternoon, hunched over laptops at the library, Jeongin blurted out, "You know, Spiderman uses bioluminescent material in his suit to blend in with the shadows."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I never thought about that!" A spark ignited, and for the next hour, they weren't just classmates, they were co-conspirators, weaving science and fiction into a captivating presentation.

Weeks leading to the science fair flew by in a flurry of activity. Their project evolved into a dazzling display of glowing concoctions bubbling away in beakers and informative posters that showcased bioluminescence in nature and its potential applications. But the real magic happened during their presentation. Jeongin, usually tongue-tied, spoke with newfound confidence, his enthusiasm infectious. Y/n, at his side, chimed in with insightful details, her voice brimming with a shared passion.

They didn't just win first place; they won the respect and admiration of their classmates. As they packed up their project later, a comfortable silence hung between them. "Hey," Jeongin stammered, "maybe we could hang out sometime, outside of school?"

Y/n's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "I'd like that," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

The weight of her backpack seemed to lessen as Y/n spotted Jeongin by the school gates the following afternoon. A nervous thrill danced in her stomach, a new sensation when it came to him. This wasn't just about dissecting the science fair aftermath; it was about exploring a newfound connection.

They walked side-by-side, replaying the highlights of the day. The golden light of the setting sun painted the world in warm hues as they found a quiet corner in the park. Jeongin pulled out a notebook, causing Y/n's heart to do a little skip.

"I was thinking about our project," he began, a hint of shyness tinging his voice.

"Me too," she admitted, excitement bubbling within her. "There's so much more to explore. Perhaps other bioluminescent organisms?"

His eyes lit up, mirroring her enthusiasm. "That's a great idea! We could even try creating a prototype for… hmm, maybe a self-illuminating bike path?"

Hours melted away as they delved into a whirlwind of ideas. They sketched diagrams, debated possibilities, and bounced thoughts off each other like fireflies flitting through the gathering dusk. The science project, a forced partnership at first, had blossomed into something more – a shared passion for science that crackled with intellectual curiosity.

As the stars began to pepper the darkening sky, reality intruded. "We should probably head home," Y/n said with a reluctant sigh.

Jeongin nodded, a similar sentiment etched on his face. "But hey," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "who says the brainstorming has to stop here?"

Y/n's heart did a little flip. "Right," she managed, a smile blooming on her face. "Your place or mine?"

"My place," he blurted out, then cleared his throat. "If that's alright with you."

The warmth in his voice sent shivers down her spine. "Perfect," she replied, a feeling far stronger than just liking blooming within her.

——

The crisp autumn air swirled fallen leaves around their ankles as Jeongin and Y/n walked home from their usual science hangout. Laughter bubbled between them as they debated about various things.

Suddenly, a guttural roar shattered the peaceful evening. A hulking figure, shrouded in shadow, emerged from a deserted alleyway. Venom, the symbiote-enhanced villain, loomed before them, his glistening black form radiating menace.

Y/n's breath hitched. Fear, icy and sharp, clawed at her throat. Jeongin's face paled, but his stance remained resolute. He knew he had to act fast.

"Y/n, stay behind me!" he commanded, his voice firm despite the tremor within.

Y/n scrambled back, her eyes wide with terror. In a single, practiced motion, Jeongin ripped off his sweatshirt, revealing the now-familiar red and blue suit clinging to his skin. A mask materialized over his face, obscuring his features.

"Venom," Spiderman's voice, distorted by the mask, rang out. "Leave her alone."

Venom chuckled, a grotesque sound that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "Another spider to squish," he snarled, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the streetlight.

A brutal fight ensued. Venom, fueled by a dark rage, unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp tendrils. Spiderman, nimble and agile, dodged each attack with practiced ease. He countered with precisely placed web shots, attempting to immobilize the monstrous villain.

Y/n watched in stunned silence as the boy she knew as Jeongin, the one who stammered over complex scientific theories and built glowing concoctions, battled a monstrous creature with superhuman speed and agility. A newfound respect, tinged with a sliver of fear, bloomed in her chest.

As the fight raged, Y/n noticed a shift in Venom's movements. The symbiote seemed to be struggling, its black form flickering erratically. It was then she remembered something from their recent bioluminescence research – certain frequencies of light could disrupt some bioluminescent organisms.

"Jeongin!" she yelled, a desperate plea escaping her lips. "Light! You need light!"

Spiderman, momentarily distracted, caught her frantic scream. He glanced at the traffic light above, an idea sparking in his mind. With a well-aimed web shot, he triggered a short circuit, showering the area in a chaotic flicker of red, yellow, and green.

The effect was instantaneous. Venom recoiled, the symbiote writhing in agitation. Disoriented and weakened, the villain stumbled back, a frustrated screech tearing from his throat. Seizing this opportunity, Spiderman launched a final web attack, successfully encasing Venom in a sticky cocoon.

The air crackled with an unsettling silence as the villain struggled, his black form pulsating against the white webbing. Y/n rushed to Jeongin's side, relief washing over her features.

Jeongin, panting and slightly bruised, turned to face her. The mask felt suffocating, the secret it held a heavy burden. Yet, seeing the awe and gratitude in Y/n's eyes, he knew he couldn't keep hiding.

"Y/n..." he began, his voice strained. But before he could confess his dual identity, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The exertion of the fight, coupled with the emotional strain, took its toll. He stumbled, his vision blurring.

Y/n caught him before he could fall. As he looked into her worried eyes, he knew the truth would come out anyway. With a shaky breath, he pulled off the mask, revealing his face etched with exhaustion but resolute.

Y/n stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise, then with a slow dawning realization. Recognition flickered in her gaze, followed by a hesitant smile. "Jeongin?" she breathed.

A wave of relief washed over him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected – fear, anger, even disgust. But instead, he saw acceptance, a spark of something more complex in her eyes.

"It's me," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

A beat of silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant wail of approaching sirens. Then, to his utter astonishment, Y/n burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the deserted street.

"Oh my gosh, Jeongin," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're Spiderman!"

Jeongin stared at her, surprised by her reaction. "You're not mad?"

Y/n shook her head, her eyes sparkling with a newfound respect. "Mad? No way! That was amazing! You saved me!"

Jeongin let out a shaky breath of relief. The relief that washed over Jeongin was so profound it almost knocked him off his feet. Here he was, exposed, vulnerable, and… met with laughter and admiration?

Y/n, still wiping tears from her eyes, reached out and squeezed his hand. "Seriously, Jeongin, that was incredible! The way you moved, the strategy with the lights – you're a genius, even without a lab coat!"

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. "Thanks, Y/n. I… I just wanted to protect you."

Her smile softened. "I know," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "And you did. You're my hero, Jeongin. Spiderman and… just Jeongin."

He couldn't help but grin, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the exertion of the fight. The secret was out, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But more importantly, a deeper connection had formed between them, forged in the crucible of danger and a shared secret.

The wail of approaching sirens grew louder. Y/n glanced down the street, her smile fading slightly. "We should probably get out of here before the police arrive,baby."

Taglist:open : @juskz @blackhairandbangs @sxnset-angel @emossssss @hanjsquokka @feelikecinderella @starlostastronaut @kpopsstuffs @lixxpix @jinnie-ret @bangchans-angel @puppyminnnie @michelle4eve @skzswife @saiko-skz @quailbagutte @briqnne @ilychee08 @dollce-exe

[peachesofteal]

Hello peach hope you're doing well!!

I want to say that I love your writing, i grow too attached to it especially dead disco, you have no idea how it represents my deepest weaknesses and things in me that i never seen written in details that hit the right way, the way that darling is loved and wanted and even cherished by them yet she's so drown in her "what ifs" and worst case scenarios... i don't know if you do requests but my birthday is coming by, and well my birthday aren't the happiest days so every year i act like a workaholic in grieve, so i thought what of darling is like this and both her lovers notice how gloomy and on edge she gets when her birthday approach, how she may fake her birthday dates and never really talk about it when it's one week away...i think it'll hurt good, thanks again! 🩷🤎

⛈️

Hi love! Sorry this is a bit late, if your birthday has already passed, I hope it was okay for you. I usually feel like there’s a raincloud following me around on my own birthday, so I can relate to not enjoying it so much. I hope you like this! 🖤

18+ MDNI brief mention of spanking and praise kink, angst, comfort, emotional issues, Simon is in charge, darling is her own tag-warning / no au / dead disco canon - early relationship

It started with a lie.

A lie you had told months ago, on the patio, glass of wine in your hand. You had been enjoying the summer sun, curled up in your underwear on Johnny's lap, Simon's fingers working circles into the balls of your feet.

"My birthday just passed, actually." Johnny startled underneath you.

"What? How come ye never told us?"

"I don't know..." you swallowed, hard. "We had just started hanging out, I didn't want to make a big deal." The lie is incredible. So many half truths, twisted into something so false.

The reality was, your birthday wasn't for another few months. And you usually didn't make it a big deal, had stopped celebrating it years ago. Once everything started to feel hollow. Once you started to feel like maybe, your birthday really wasn't something to be happy about. Maybe, if you just pretended it didn't exist, it would sting less. Hurt less, when others did too.

"I wish we had known, darling." Simon interrupts your thoughts, and you shrug.

"Next year."

"Is everything alright?” Simon’s hand squeezes yours, drawing your attention from where you’re staring at a book, but not really reading. He can tell. He always can tell. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Your jaw tenses and relaxes with one breath. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” In reality, you were fine. Everything was fine. Johnny was in the kitchen, you were half sprawled across Simon with your paperback. You had a full belly and two doting, loving, warm partners, home, together, in the flat. What more could you want?

It’s hard to explain, the feeling of your impending birthday. The doom spiral that it begins in your heart, the sucker punch that it will deliver the morning of.

The guys don’t even know it’s your birthday, they think it’s not for however long ahead the made up date was.

You can’t decide if it’s worse, or better that you lied. Probably worse.

Will they remember? You never gave them a definite date. Will they push you on it?

You sneak a glance at Simon and realize he’s watching you, studying your micro expressions and picking them apart.

Definitely worse.

You feel awful when you think about how disappointed they’ll be if they find out, how Johnny’s face with twist with sadness, confusion.

You mentally cross your fingers, and hope it never comes up.

Your hopes are drastically dashed the next day, when you come home to a silent flat, Simon sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded.

“Hi?”

“How was your day?” He asks and you shrug.

“Fine.” You peer into the fridge, feigning interest to avoid whatever the fuck is happening at the kitchen table right now. “Where’s Johnny?”

“Out.” Out?

“Out where?”

“On an errand. Come here.” It’s a command, something you recognize now, and your mind goes on red alert, chest rattling with a shaky breath.

Your feet deliver you to him on auto pilot.

“You got something delivered today.” There’s a shiny piece of postcard barely peeking out from his palms, glinting in the kitchen light. “It’s from your dentist.”

“Oh.” You laugh, nervously, scratching your neck because you don’t know what else to do with your hands.

“They wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Since it’s on the fifteenth.”

Fuck.

Your brain splits in two. One half of you wants to double down and assure him it must be a mistake. The other half wants to say you’re sorry, burst into tears and crawl into his lap.

“Darling?”

“Yeah… I uh… it’s uh.” He raises an eyebrow and you trail off, eyes finding the floor, hot shame crawling up your spine to your cheeks.

“Why did you lie?” You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. No words, no lies, no rebuttals… just- a void. Nothing.

The walls feel like they’re ten feet closer to you, squeezing in on all sides, bearing down.

“Hey, hey.” His fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you closer into his body while you suck in a hurried breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t tell him. You don’t want them to know.

“I can’t.” You whisper to your feet, and he strokes a thumb across your pulse point.

“You can’t?” He pushes, like you knew he would. It doesn’t take much for you to fold, and when he squeezes you wrist encouragingly, you break.

“I… don’t like my birthday. So, I lied. I said it was a while ago so you guys didn’t know.”

“Why do you not like it?” You shrug.

“I don’t know. It just always seems so, empty. It makes me sad. When you’re a kid, birthdays are special you know? And then as you get older they just get… worse. It’s supposed to be a day to celebrate but I only ever feel alone. I feel like, I don’t know. Like it’s just sad. And not special.” Your lower lip trembles, but you swallow down the lump in your throat, unable to let yourself fall apart, unable to fall beneath the weight. “I can’t explain it but there’s always a pit in my stomach, the morning of, and I can never shake it. It’s not like my previous relationships even really went out of their way to do something, so I… I don’t know.” You cut yourself off from your ramble by biting the inside of your cheek, trying to ward off a tidal wave of emotion.

“I see.” He pauses, and then wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “And you were worried you’d feel the same, with us?” You shrug again. “Did you think we’d disappoint you?”

“No!” You blurt. “No, I just- I didn’t want the expectation. I didn’t want-“

“To be let down.” You shake your head with a denial, but Simon only nods, face grave and serious. “You always feel alone on your birthday. Why should it be any different now?”

“Because-“

“Because you don’t trust this yet.”

“That’s not true.”

“You trust us, darling. I know that. Johnny knows that. But trauma is muscle memory. It takes more than a few months with a new relationship to heal the build up of the pain and experiences you’ve been carrying.”

You can feel yourself twisting on the hook of his words. It’s so hard… to believe. To know. To trust but… this. Him and Johnny- you know it’s real. You’re terrified it’s real. It gives you the sweetest dreams and the scariest nightmares.

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“That’s alright, love. I’m not angry.” He watching you closely, cradling your jaw when your lip picks back up with it’s quivering. “But I think you need to feel better. I think you’ve been bottling this up for weeks now, haven’t you?” You suck in a deep breath, ragged and raw. You’re buzzing now, feeling too big for your skin, your clothes, your nerve endings rattling inside your body. “Should we sort it out?”

You nod.

“Words, darling.”

“Yes, Simon.”

When Johnny waltzes through the front door an hour later with a cake and a dozen balloons, he’s half curious, half elated to see you over Simon’s knee with your pants around your ankles, wide palm smoothing the raw skin of your ass as he hums sweetly to you.

“Shhh, good girl. I know, I know. It’s alright. You did so good for me.” Simon calls over your sniffling. “Johnny, c’mere. I think our girl is ready for her first gift.”

[eternalsams]

Hello I really like your work!

Could I maybe make a request about the reader having anxiety and Fanboy dropping everything to go comfort the reader (who they’ve both secretly had a thing for each other) lots of fluff! Lol

OMG yes this is so cute!! Sorry it took so long, you probably don't even remember sending me this ask, but I have not forgotten!

Call me ⇴ M.Garcia

pairing: Mickey Garcia x gn!reader

summary: when things get rough, you know exactly who you have to call.

content/warnings: anxiety, panic attack, fluff, final exams (that should be a proper warning)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration.

masterlist

You smiled at the picture on your phone, Mickey's smile illuminating the screen. He'd sent you a text just before leaving the locker room and joining his friends up in the sky. His goofy face always managed to stretch a smile onto your lips. You sent him an emoji blowing a kiss even though you knew he would only see it in a few hours when he'll be back on the ground. You put down your phone on your desk face down and looked back at your laptop, your smile fading quickly. You needed to study.

You managed to learn a good part of your subject before you heard your phone vibrate. You looked at the window and saw that the sun was now high in the sky. You sighed and answered your best friend. "Hey, Mickey!" You smiled, happy to get this break in your study session. "Hey! Did you see the picture I sent you?" He immediately asked. You chuckled and rubbed your forehead. "Yes, Mickey, I saw it. I even texted you back, didn't you see?" You could hear men voices behind him and figured out he was still in the locker room. The sound of his voice became a bit more distant, surely from the fact he put down his phone to change clothes. "Nah, sorry. I didn't check my messages, I immediately called you when we were dismissed." Wolf whistles were heard on the other end but Mickey was quick to make them stop with an insult.

You could hear him shuffle and then his voice got really close to the phone, as if he removed the speaker. "How's studying?" He asked, his tone way calmer now. You sighed and leaned back in your chair. "Boring." He chuckled and you heard him close his locker. "Yeah, I figured. Do you want me to come over and clear your mind?" You looked back at your laptop and scooted closer to it. "Nah, I'm good. I'm gonna study some more, I'll let you know if I need anything." He didn't say anything but you didn't need him to, you already knew how he felt about how hard you were on yourself about those exams. "I'm fine, Mickey. I hope you had fun today." You told him before he could even scold you. You heard him slightly sigh and could almost hear the smile stretching his lips as he answered you. "Take care, I love you." You smiled and made a kissing sound right to the phone. "Love you too, Fanboy." He groaned at the callsign. "Don't call me that!" You laughed some more before hanging up and turning off the sound on your phone. You put it back down and focused on your laptop.

Reading again and again the same words until they were engraved in your brain. You only took a quick pause to make yourself a tea to drink as you read the same words all over again. You didn't even notice the sun starting to go down until your stomach asked for food. You leaned back in your chair to stretch your muscles and glanced at the window, your eyes widening as you notice how late it must already be. You checked your phone and was horrified to see it was already 5 in the afternoon. You had barely done anything of your day and the final exams were coming soon. "No, no, no..." You closed your lesson and opened another one, if you couldn't learn everything by heart, you at least wanted to know the basics of each of them.

Your heart started beating faster as you read the lesson you wrote months ago in class. Why didn't you study sooner? Breathing through your nose turned out to be quite difficult as your lungs asked for more and more oxygen. Your hands started trembling as you tried to go through your lesson. You shook them firmly to get rid of the tremble but nothing seemed to help you at the moment. Tears blurred your sight and burned your eyes but you couldn't allow yourself to take the time to properly cry when those exams would determine if you can get a job or not. So you simply let the tears roll down your cheeks as you tried to read your lesson, holding your shaking hands and breathing heavily through your mouth. The first sob broke through your focus and you felt your chest clenching, squeezing your heart in your ribcage and feeling like you might die from suffocation. You brought a hand to your chest and whined in pain. You didn't know what was happening but you knew what to do.

You tentatively grabbed your phone and Mickey's warm smile greeted you on your lock screen. You searched for his contact and immediately put on the speaker, not trusting your hand to hold the phone during the call. It rang one. Two. Three times. "Hello?" His voice warmed your heart. You could hear voices behind him and music, sign that he was at the Hard Deck with his friends "Mickey?" Your shaking voice must have alarmed him cause you heard him excuse himself to his friends and the music faded behind him. "What's wrong?" He sounded so serious. "I..I don't know what's happening... I can't... I can't breathe." You quietly sobbed. "I'm on my way, don't move and try to slow your breathing." You tried to protest but he had already hung up on you. Your phone turned off automatically and you were once again alone with the bloody laptop.

Not even twenty minutes later, you heard your front door open after Mickey used the spare key you gave him a few months ago. He ran to you and wrapped you in his arms as you cried some more, feeling safer than ever against him. He rocked you against his chest, stroking comfortably your hair and murmuring sweet nothings to calm you down. You both let yourselves fall on the floor but he never let you go, holding you close to him. "It's okay, you're okay. Breathe with me, Angel." He took a big breath through his nose and waited for you to do the same. He then Breathed out through his mouth, watching attentively as you did the same, your exhale way shakier than his. "You're okay, you're with me." He kept rocking you until you completely calmed down. More tears rolled down your cheeks to soak Mickey's shirt but he really couldn't care less.

It felt like forever until you were both laying on the floor of your apartment, your gaze glued to the ceiling as his eyes couldn't leave your face. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked, almost in a whisper not to startle you. You swallowed and turned to him completely, resting your weight on your hip. "The exams. I'm so scared I'm gonna fail." Mickey immediately sighed at your answer and new teras threatened to spill but he quickly turned his body to you and gently grabbed your face to wipe your tears. "You're too hard on yourself, Angel." You pursed your lips and looked away as he scooted closer to you, opening his arms for you to snuggle in close. You quietly cried against his chest as he stroked your back soothingly. "Angel?" He called, stopping his movements on your back. "Hmm?" You answer, staying snuggled in his shirt. "Look at me, please." You leaned back and looked up at him, meeting his brown eyes. He softly smiled and closed the distance between you two, pressing a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips. Your eyes widened and you felt your face heat up as he looked back into yours eyes. "You're gonna nail it, I'm sure. You're the smartest person I know, no exam should scare you." He then kissed your forehead and tenderly tucked his chin on top of your head.

[midnightwrriting]

Distractions

This is based on one of my headcanons I wrote...

summary: Dalton likes drawing on your hand rather then talking to people.

warning : mentions of anxiety, fluff.

word count: 920

did not proof read.

When hanging out with new people, Dalton always found it hard to talk to them. He would get nervous, and most people knew him by that, he was also known as 'y/n's boyfriend' and he was fine with that.

You had to meet some friends at the cafe before going on your date with him, but because it was a close call for the reservation, you thought it would be easier for him to come with.

"Ready love?" He shuffled to your desk as you finished your hair. 'So beautiful,' he thought. He could stare at you for hours. Your eyes, the hue of the (e/c) made him melt, and the way you always had such a soft smile.

"Yeah, let me get my shoes on." You looked around the room for them and saw them by the bed. Slipping them on, you added some ChapStick and called it good.

"Alright, let's get going." Standing up, your hands rested on his chest. The feeling of them gave him a sense of comfort, yet still, after months of dating, any slight touch from you makes his breath hitch. You kissed his cheek and made your way to the door.

"Hold on." he quickly turned back to the desk and grabbed something. You couldn't see it but didn't press what it was, leaving the dorm he grabbed your hand walking side by side.

The sun was already setting, the warm summer wind slowly turning into a crisp cold breeze. A comfortable silence lay between you and your boyfriend. You know he's not the biggest talker in public, but with just you and Chris behind closed doors, he won't ever shut up.

Cars passed by as you continued your walk to the café his hand held yours so tightly, you could tell he was nervous. He was always like this being out in public, he just held onto you and kept close. Your thumb brushed over his knuckles, your way of comforting him.

The cafe was a few steps ahead, "we'll be in and out" your voice was like silk to his ears. He smiled and followed you in, your friends sat at a table that was in the corner. "Hey, sorry I'm late" you sat next to Jess, and Dalton sat at the end of the table right next to you.

"No worries we were just talking about other things while we waited, should we go over the main plans now and then we can meet up again in two days" Lola was the main leader in your group when projects we assigned.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect!" you smiled and took your phone out to write some notes. Dalton sat peaceful next to you while you and the others went over the topic for the assignment. Your right hand was typing in your notes while your left hand laid in Dalton's lap.

He traced and played with your fingers and sat listening, "great so y/n I know it's a lot but are you okay with drawing a blueprint and then maybe you can write two of the paragraphs and then Jess you can edit and finish the last paragraphs?" you shook your head yes as Jess hopped into the conversation.

All of a sudden you felt a coldness on your hand, looking over at Dalton you saw he pulled a pen out and started drawing on your hand, he held your hand so softly, and instead of forcing you to turn your hand he turned his body as he drew. You could feel the coldness of the ink hitting your skin and the light traces he made.

This was your favorite thing ever, knowing it brought some kind of comfort to Dalton made you happy. You could see his face peaking from his hair, he looked so considerate and so hot-

"Great so we have about two weeks for this to be done but if we just stay on track with our parts, we should get it done in a week!" Lola's voice filled your ears making you turn your attention away from Dalton.

"Okay, sweet that sounds good" your hands closed on Dalton's making him look up, "I'll get started tomorrow, but for now I have a day with this cute boy here, so I'll catch you guys later" everyone smiled as they looked at Dalton, he was looking at you with rose cheeks. With the attention on him he could feel his face heat up.

"Alright love bird have fun!" Lola smiled and waved you both away.

"Not too much fun though" jess make a smirking face eyeing the both of you.

Dalton grabbed your coat slipping it back on you, he waved bye as you said goodbye. Making your way outside a smile laid brightly on your face.

"What?" Dalton looked at you flushed with how your eyes laid on him.

"I just think you are really cute, and I love you" he could feel his heart beating faster, you loved him, and you meant it!

"I love you" his voice was so soft; his brown eyes looked all doe eyed. Sticking out your hand you looked at the little drawing he did, there was hearts, some spiderwebs and eyes.

"I love when you draw on me too" you walked along him slowly the cold breeze pushing your hair back.

"I'm glad" his arm went around pulling your head to the side so he could kiss your forehead. humming at the affection, you couldn't be happier.