#why the fuck it doesn’t have a blur brush

[bananitryithegoatman]

I have procreate now!!

[nereidprinc3ss]

better late than never

in which uni student fem!reader finally shares exactly what she's been worried about with spencer

18+ for pregnancy scare warnings/tags: pregnancy scare, reader doesn't want to be pregnant, age gap (unspecified) a/n: listennn lots of you guys asked for more spence x uni reader... but u didn't specify WHAT u wanted... so now we're fantasizing about pregnancy scares because we're all what?? say it with me!! MENTALLY ILL!!!!

For the fifth time, you have to restart the paragraph you were reading. For the fifth time, it doesn’t make any sense—words strung together like clashing beads on a dancing string, blurred together by the tears you’ve been fighting all day. Anthropology is by far the easiest of the six classes you’re taking this quarter, but suddenly completing this routine assignment feels like scaling a mountain. It is, of course, nothing in comparison to the catalytic source of your immense stress. The thing you’ve been trying to ignore for nearly a week, and as a result, have become more and more obsessive about. 

A flare of rage overwhelms you and you slam your laptop shut. Then as quickly as it appeared, it dissipates, cooling to desolation as you bury your face in your hands with a sob. You hear paper shuffling from the desk where Spencer has been silently working and you try to reign in your emotions, but it’s too late. 

“Hey,” he says gently as he approaches, slowing to a stop in front of your spot on the couch. “What’s going on with you?”

You sniff, quickly brushing the tears away with trembling hands. But your voice is thick and strained when you fruitlessly attempt to lie. 

“Nothing.”

When you refuse to look up at him, he kneels down in front of you. 

“Really? This doesn’t have anything to do with why you’ve been so quiet these past few days?”

Of course, he noticed. You were a fool for thinking he wouldn’t. Finally you break, looking to him for subconscious comfort. And he’s looking up at you so earnestly, with so much genuine concern in those puppy dog eyes, that the waterworks threaten to start up all over again. Your lip quivers. 

“I can’t tell you,” you squeak. 

“That’s a really scary thing for me to hear. Do you understand why?” His voice is calm, carefully grabbing your hand and bringing to his heart. “Because I need to know if something happened to you.”

You shake your head tearfully, looking down at where you’re weakly grasping the front of his shirt. 

“‘s not like that,” comes your reedy whisper. “Nobody hurt me or anything, I just—I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“I won’t get mad, I won’t,” he promises desperately, “right now I just want to know what I can do to make this better. I hate seeing you like this.”

A shuddering sigh forces its way out of your lungs. You suppose this is the kind of thing you probably should tell your boyfriend about, as petrifying as it may be.  

“I don’t know, I… I’ve just been freaking the fuck out because I’m worried I’m pregnant, and this would be the worst possible timing—like I know I want kids one day but I’m still in college and you’re like a real adult with an adult career and I don’t want to fuck that up for you and I know that even if I am pregnant I have choices but that’s still so scary and… and I don’t know.”

You’re expecting a long pause, punctuated by some berating and bemoaning, but it never comes. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Honey, this is exactly the kind of thing you tell me about,” he says, voicing your earlier thoughts. And he doesn’t even sound furious. You glance up, watching his visage swim beyond your teary eyes. “I am not mad. That wouldn’t make any sense. Do you know who’s fault it would be if you accidentally got pregnant?”

“Well—"

“Mine. So if this ever happens again, please don’t keep it to yourself for so long. I won’t be mad at you for something like this, ever.”

“But… you’re not worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, looking utterly unperturbed. 

“I wouldn’t be worried either way. But no, I’m not concerned that you’re pregnant. We’re really safe. The chances of you being pregnant are essentially negligible.”

“But I’m two weeks late.”

“That can happen when you’re taking six upper level classes,” he agrees, swiping your cheek with a thumb. “You’re under a lot of stress. I’m completely unsurprised that your body is reacting to it.”

A weight like a ton of bricks is lifted from your shoulders, but doubt still lingers. 

Spencer sees the hesitation in your eyes. 

“Would it make you feel better to take a test? Just in case?”

You nod gingerly, wrapping your hand around his wrist. He takes it in both of his, kissing the back before dropping them to your lap. 

“Okay. I’ll go get a couple. But I’m confident that you have nothing to worry about, and I’m usually right about these things.”

You take another deep breath, the last of the anxiety floating away with it. He’s usually right about everything. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing your palm with his thumb and looking at you with so much love in his eyes. 

“Do you maybe feel like doing my homework for me?”

He smiles. 

“Nice try. Get it done and we can go out for dinner, okay?”

“Always worth a shot,” you shrug. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he stands. 

“And the answer will always be no.”

[021894s]

— 28 betrayal, hurt…reconciliation [3.9k w]

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

PAIRING: brothers bsf! sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: hurt, betrayal, language

AUTHORS NOTE: I tried surprising you guys by not telling you I was posting td hehe, enjoy <3

how could this have happened? he analyzes the photos closely, his heart sinking as he sees the images of you and Sunghoon, his best friend? his little sister? with their lips locked in a kiss?what the actual fuck. The betrayal cuts deep, and fury courses through his veins, each beat of his heart pounding louder in his ears.

The phone slips from his grasp, clattering onto the table as he scramble for his car keys. There's no time to think, no time to process what he’s just seen. The only thing that matters is getting to your house. he doesn’t care about the speed limit, the world outside blurring into a haze as he presses the pedal to the floor.

his mind races faster than the car, a torrent of emotions threatening to drown him. Anger, hurt, and a desperate need for answers fuel his reckless drive. As he approached your house, he barely registers the screech of tires against asphalt. All he knows is that you need to be confronted, to understand why you two did this to him.

Saerom was lounging on the couch, flipping through the endless arrays of movies and dramas that failed to catch her eye, when a loud, insistent knock echoed through the house. She frowned, setting the magazine aside and heading toward the door. when she opened it, she was met with Heeseung’s intense gaze and furrowed brows.

"Heeseung, hey—" she began, a bit taken aback by his agitated demeanor.

“Y/N here?” he cut her off abruptly, not waiting for an answer as he brushed past her and stormed into the house.

“Heeseung, wait—” Saerom tried to protest, but he was already making his way to your room, his footsteps heavy with urgency.

Heeseung didn’t bother knocking. He threw the door open, and there, in a tangle of blankets, were you and Sunghoon, your head nestled against his chest as he mindlessly scrolled on his phone.

“Un fucking believable,” Heeseung spat, his voice laced with betrayal.

you and Sunghoon scrambled to sit up, shock written across your faces. Sunghoon’s eyes widened, and your mouth opened and closed, searching for words.

“Heeseung, I—” you started, but the intensity of his glare silenced you.

“How long has this been going on?” Heeseung demanded, his voice trembling with anger and hurt.

you and Sunghoon exchanged a nervous glance, each silently pleading for the other to say something. Heeseung’s patience snapped.

“fucking answer me!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the room.

Sunghoon swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper as he stammered, “T-technically since Japan.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened with fury, his fists clenching at his sides. “are you fucking kidding me? I trust you to accompany my sister and in turn you start sleeping with her?? what the fuck sunghoon?!”

your eyes filled with tears as you finally found your voice. “We were gonna tell you, I promise.”

Heeseung scoffed, his anger unrelenting. “Before or after you got caught?”

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands. “Heeseung, you have to understand, it wasn’t like we planned this to hurt you. We were just scared of how you’d react.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Scared of how I’d react? You’re my sister and sunghoon is supposed to be my best friend! How did you think I’d react?”

Sunghoon finally mustered the courage to step forward. “Heeseung, we didn’t mean for it to happen this way. We just… we care about each other.”

The sight of Sunghoon’s face seemed to ignite something in Heeseung. Without warning, he swung his fist, connecting with Sunghoon’s jaw.

Sunghoon staggered back, clutching his face, his eyes wide with shock and pain. “Heeseung, I—”

Heeseung didn’t let him finish. “You fucking asshole” he yelled, his voice breaking. “You were supposed to be there for her not fall for her”

you stepped in front of him. “Heeseung, please! Let’s talk this out. just please don’t hurt him!” you plead, your voice breaking.

the tension in the room reached its peak, the sound of a door creaking open echoed down the hall. Jake, who had been in the restroom, heard the commotion and rushed towards your room. He burst in just as Heeseung was about to throw another punch at Sunghoon.

“Hey hey hey, stop it!” Jake shouted, grabbing Heeseung’s arm and pulling him back.

Heeseung struggled against Jake’s hold, his fury not yet abated. “Jake, let me fucking go. He deserves this!”

Jake tightened his grip, stepping between Heeseung and Sunghoon. “Enough, Heeseung! This isn’t going to solve anything.”

Heeseung glared at Jake, his eyes filled with betrayal. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew this whole time and didn’t think to tell me?”

Jake looked pained, but he held his ground. “It wasn’t my secret to tell, Heeseung. I wanted to, but it wasn’t my place.”

Heeseung’s anger flared again, though this time it was mixed with hurt. “So you just let them lie to me? Let them sneak around behind my back?”

Jake shook his head. “I didn’t let them do anything. I told them they needed to tell you, but it was their decision to make.”

still standing between the boys, you looked at Heeseung with tear-filled eyes. “Heeseung, please. Jake didn’t do anything wrong. This is on us.”

Heeseung looked between you, Sunghoon, and Jake, his emotions a whirlwind. Finally, he took a step back, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

Jake released Heeseung’s arm, his expression filled with sympathy. “You can trust that we all care about you. We just didn’t handle things the right way.”

Heeseung rubbed his temples, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

tears are streaming down your face, looking at Heeseung with desperation. “Heeseung… I love him.”

Heeseung paused, his eyes filling with more pain. He turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of hurt and concern. "He’s going to hurt you," he said, his voice trembling.

you shook her head, her heart aching. "No, Heeseung, he won't."

Heeseung’s eyes brimmed with tears. "How can you be so sure? You’ve been sneaking around, lying to me. How can you trust him after all this?"

you took a step closer, pleading with him. "Because I know him. And I know this is hard for you to believe right now, but he makes me happy."

Heeseung looked at you, the pain in his eyes evident. "I just want to protect you. I don’t want to see you get hurt."

your voice softened, filled with love and determination. "I know, Heeseung. And I appreciate that. But I need you to trust me on this. Please."

Heeseung swallowed hard, the tears finally spilling over. "I don’t know if I can. Not right now."

you nodded, your own tears flowing freely. "Take your time. But please, believe me when I say we didn’t mean to hurt you. We love you."

Heeseung looked away, wiping his eyes. "I love you too, y/n. That's why this hurts so much." he looks over to sunghoon, “don’t bother coming home, you’re out.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, your heart breaking for your brother, and it was no one’s fault but your own.

your world had become a shadow of its former self. The weight of Heeseung's hurt and disappointment bore down on your shoulders like a crushing burden. Days passed in a haze of misery. you found yourself withdrawing from everything you once enjoyed, your appetite dwindling, and even the thought of attending classes seemed unbearable.

your best friends noticed the change immediately. Saerom, who had always been your confidante, approached you gently one afternoon.

"y/n please talk to me," Saerom pleaded, sitting beside you on the bed where you had been listlessly staring at nothing in particular.

you blinked back tears, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't, Saerom. I've messed everything up. I hurt Heeseung so much."

Saerom wrapped her arms around you, holding you close. "You didn’t mean to hurt him, baby. Sometimes things just happen."

you shook her head, her tears flowing freely now. "But I did hurt him. I betrayed his trust. And now he won’t even talk to me."

she rubbed your back soothingly, feeling utterly helpless. "Give him time, y/n . He loves you. He’ll come around."

you pulled away,eyes filled with despair. "I don’t know if he ever will. And even if he does, how can things ever be the same?"

Saerom’s heart broke for you. "I wish I had the answers. Just know that I’m here for you, no matter what."

you nodded weakly, appreciating Saerom’s support even as the ache in your heart persisted. youfelt lost, adrift in a sea of guilt and sorrow, unable to find solace in anything, not even in the presence of your closest friends.

A week had passed since the tumultuous confrontation in your room. Heeseung found himself in the university library, an unusual place for him on a quiet afternoon. He was buried in his textbooks, trying to focus on the equations and theories in front of him, anything to distract himself from the ache in his heart.

He flipped through pages, his mind wandering back to the events of the past week. The hurt and betrayal were still fresh, but being surrounded by the hushed atmosphere of the library offered a semblance of peace. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions that had consumed him since discovering your secret.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, his face still bruised from Heeseung’s punch. “Can I sit?”

Heeseung glanced up at him, his expression conflicted. After a moment, he nodded.

Sunghoon sat down, the silence between them heavy. Finally, he spoke. “Heeseung, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Heeseung kept his gaze fixed on the ground. “You were my best friend, Sunghoon. I trusted you more than anyone.”

Sunghoon swallowed hard. “I know. And I betrayed that trust. But I swear, it wasn’t intentional. I just... I fell in love with her.”

Heeseung looked up, his eyes filled with pain. “And you couldn’t tell me? You had to sneak around behind my back?”

Sunghoon nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “We were scared. We didn’t want to lose you.”

Heeseung’s anger flared again, though not as intensely as before. “You lost me the moment you decided to lie to me.”

Sunghoon’s shoulders slumped. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I need you to know that I love y/n. I would never hurt her.”

Heeseung shook his head, tears welling up again. “How can I believe that? After all this?”

Sunghoon’s voice was steady, filled with sincerity. “Because I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love her, Heeseung. And I love you too. You’re like a brother to me. Losing you... it’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

Heeseung wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath. “This is going to take time. I don’t know if I can trust either of you right now.”

Sunghoon nodded, understanding. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just... please don’t shut us out. We need you- she needs you. she isn’t taking it well.”

Heeseung looked at Sunghoon, seeing the genuine remorse and love in his eyes. “I need time to process this. But... i’ll talk to her”.

Sunghoon managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Heeseung. That means a lot.”

Heeseung nodded, the pain still raw but a small glimmer of hope beginning to form. “We’ll see. Just... don’t hurt her. Or I won’t forgive you. Ever.”

Sunghoon placed a hand on Heeseung’s shoulder, his voice firm. “I won’t. I promise.”

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of their conversation lingering, but there was a sense of understanding beginning to bridge the gap between them.

Sunghoon had been by your side through it all, his own heart heavy with guilt and longing to make things right. later that afternoon, you both lay together in the cacoon of your duvet, hiding you from the outside world. Sunghoon gently pulled you into his arms.

"I talked to Heeseung," Sunghoon murmured softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on the soft skin of your back.

you looked up at him, eyes searching his face. "you did?? what did he say? are you ok? did he hit you again?"

Sunghoon sighed, his expression pained. "i’m ok but…he's hurting, baby. deeply. But he's starting to listen. I think... I think there's hope."

Tears welled up in your eyes again. "I miss him, hoon. I miss my brother."

Sunghoon held you tighter, his own eyes moistening. "He misses you too, y/n. He just needs time to heal."

you nodded, burying your face in Sunghoon's chest, seeking comfort in his warmth. "I wish I could take back everything. I wish I hadn’t hurt him."

Sunghoon kissed the top of your head gently. "We’ll get through this, baby. I promise. We just have to be patient."

you stayed like that for a while, finding solace in each other’s embrace, both hoping and praying that time would heal the wounds you had inadvertently caused.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of vulnerability.

Sunghoon cupped you face gently, his gaze locked with yours. "I love you too, y/n," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

In that moment, despite the pain and uncertainty, your love remained a steadfast anchor, offering hope for reconciliation and a future where healing could finally begin.

The next day, you were sitting in your room, staring blankly at the wall, when there was a gentle knock on the door. you looked up, heart skipping a beat when you saw Heeseung standing in the doorway, a tentative look on his face.

"Can we talk?" Heeseung asked softly, stepping inside.

you nodded, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. "Of course."

Heeseung took a deep breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I've been thinking a lot, you know about everything."

your eyes filled with tears. "I’m so sorry, Hee. I never wanted to hurt you."

Heeseung nodded, his own eyes glistening. "I know. And I’m sorry for how I reacted. I was just... I felt- i feel so betrayed."

you reached out, taking his hand. "I never meant for it to happen like this. i just didn’t want you to be disappointed, you mean too much to me. but so does he.

Heeseung squeezed your hand gently. "Sunghoon talked to me yesterday. He explained everything. I realize now that you both love each other, and as much as it hurt to find out the way I did, I can’t stand the thought of losing either of you."

your tears spilled over, a mixture of relief and sorrow. "I miss you."

Heeseung’s voice cracked with emotion. "I miss you too, y/n. And I don’t want to lose you. It’s going to take time for me to fully trust again, but I’m willing to try."

you nodded, heart swelling with hope. "i’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. I promise."

he pulls you into a tight embrace, his tears mingling with yours. "We’ll get through this together. I love you, sis"

"I love you too, hee," she whispered, holding him close. "Thank you for giving me a chance to make things right."

As you pulled away from the heartfelt embrace, Heeseung wiped his eyes and managed a small, teasing smile. "You look like shit, by the way."

you laughed through your tears, lightly punching his arm. "wow thanks. You’re not looking so hot yourself."

Heeseung chuckled, the tension in the room easing slightly. "I guess we've both been a mess, huh?"

you nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, but maybe now we can start to clean up the mess together."

Heeseung grinned, ruffling your hair. "Sounds like a plan. Just promise me you’ll start eating and going to classes again. We both need to get our lives back on track."

you rolled her eyes playfully. "alright, big brother. I promise. But only if you promise to stop hiding in the library, it’s kinda scary to be honest."

Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. "Deal. Let’s both try to get back to some kind of normal."

you smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest she hadn't felt in days. "I’m really glad we talked, hee."

Heeseung nodded, his expression softening. "Me too, y/n. Me too."

Heeseung leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, I should probably have a little chat with Sunghoon too."

you raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh? And what are you going to say to him?"

Heeseung smirked, crossing his arms. "Just a friendly reminder that if he ever hurts you, I’ll turn his life into a never-ending horror movie. You know, typical big brother stuff."

you laughed, shaking her head. "Poor Sunghoon. He's already scared of you as it is."

Heeseung chuckled. "Good. Keeps him on his toes."

Just then, Sunghoon timidly peeked around the corner, having overheard the last part of their conversation. "Uh, did I hear my name?"

Heeseung turned to him, his expression mock-serious. "Yeah, just giving y/n a heads-up about your imminent doom if you screw this up."

Sunghoon gulped, trying to hide his nervousness. "Duly noted. I promise, Heeseung, I'll take good care of her."

Heeseung's serious facade broke, and he grinned. "Relax, Sunghoon. Just don’t forget, I’ll always be watching."

Sunghoon laughed nervously, and you rolled your eyes playfully. "Alright, you two, enough with the threats. Let’s just focus on moving forward."

Heeseung nodded, still smiling. "Agreed. But remember, Sunghoon, horror movie."

Sunghoon nodded fervently. "Got it. No horror movies."

Just as the tension in the room began to ease, there was a loud commotion from the front door. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki barged into the house, their voices filled with excitement.

"Guess who brought chicken!!!" Jungwon shouted, holding up a bag of takeout.

The trio stopped in their tracks when they saw Heeseung standing in the living room with you and sunghoon, an awkward silence immediately filling the space .

Sunoo looked around, his eyes wide with surprise. "Should we leave?" he whispered to the others, his voice barely audible.

Heeseung, still processing the sudden intrusion, managed to chuckle. "No, it's fine. Come on in."

Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki exchanged nervous glances but slowly entered the room, setting the bags of food on the table. Niki looked at Heeseung, trying to gauge the situation. "Are you sure? We didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

you smiled, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "It's okay. We were just finishing up."

Sunoo glanced at Sunghoon, noticing his bruised face . "he didn’t punch you again did he?" he says in a whisper.

Sunghoon smiled sheepishly. "no, he didn’t”

sunoo pumps his fist in the air discreetly “progress!!” he whispers.

Jungwon, trying to lighten the mood, clapped his hands together. "Well, since we're all here, why don’t we eat? Maybe some food will help clear the air."

Heeseung nodded, a small smile forming. "Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s eat."

you all gathered around the table, the atmosphere slowly shifted from tense to more relaxed. The sound of laughter and chatter began to fill the room, a reminder of the bond you all shared and the hope that, in time, everything could be mended.

Sunoo leaned over to you, whispering with a playful grin, "You better make sure Heeseung gets the biggest piece of chicken. Peace offering and all."

you laughed, nodding. "Consider it done."

as you ate, the group gradually began to relax, the earlier tension dissipating. Heeseung, Sunghoon, and you exchanged glances, knowing that this was just the beginning of yourjourney to rebuild trust and heal their relationships. But surrounded by friends and shared laughter

a little over a month later, time had done its work, gradually healing the rift between Heeseung, Sunghoon, and you. Heeseung had come to terms with your relationship, and while it had been a rocky road, the bond you shared had grown stronger.

One sunny afternoon, Heeseung pulled up in front of your house to pick up you and Sunghoon for a lunch outing you had planned. He honked the horn lightly, signaling his arrival.

you both emerged from the house, holding hands and smiling. climbing into the backseat of Heeseung’s car, leaving the front seat empty.

Heeseung glanced in the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. "Really? The backseat?"

Sunghoon grinned, wrapping his arm around you . "What can I say? We like being close."

you leaned your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Thanks for driving us, Heeseung. You make a great chauffeur."

Heeseung rolled his eyes, starting the engine. "Yah, just don’t do anything you’re not supposed to be doing in my car."

Sunghoon laughed, squeezing your hand. "We promise to be good. Well, mostly."

you often found yourrself reflecting on how much had changed. you had feared losing your brother’s trust and your relationship with Sunghoon in the process, but instead, you had all come out of it closer and more resilient.

One evening, as the sun set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you sat on the balcony of your house. Heeseung and Sunghoon joined you, sitting on either side, each lost in their thoughts.

“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” you asked softly, glancing at both of them.

Heeseung nodded, a gentle smile on his face. “Yeah, I do. It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad we made it through.”

Sunghoon took yourhand, squeezing it lightly. “We’ve grown a lot, all of us. And I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.”

you leaned her head on Heeseung’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of their presence. “I’m just glad I have both of you. It was tough, but it’s worth it. Having you both by my side means everything to me.”

Heeseung wrapped an arm around you, his smile widening. “We’re family. And nothing is going to change that.”

Sunghoon nodded, looking at Heeseung. “Thank you for accepting us, Heeseung. It means a lot.”

Heeseung chuckled, ruffling Sunghoon’s hair. “Just remember, if you ever hurt her, you’ll have to deal with me.”

you laughed, feeling a sense of peace and contentment. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you both so much.”

The three of you sat there, enjoying the serene evening, knowing that despite the challenges you had faced, you had come out stronger and more united. The love and trust you had rebuilt were the foundation of your unbreakable bond.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It had been a rocky and tough situation, but you had both your boys, and that was all that really mattered.

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[o4i0n]

do u guys think miguel gets hard if ur nice to him ., miguel nation what do we think 

reblogs, comments & likes r highly appreciated !

it’s not like you being nice is anything out of the ordinary—if anything, it’s one of the things that comes the most naturally to you and what others notice whenever they catch you around. your care comes in the form of small, gentle reminders, shared smiles when your eyes meet another’s, or asking how things are when you pass by someone else to make simple conversation. nothing special, really, but it’s sweet. 

miguel o’hara thinks that it’s too sweet, but it’s more of a ‘him’ problem, if anything. he’s not even supposed to be this worked up over something as careless as your hand brushing against his shoulder to let him know that you’re there for him that’s coupled with a chipper ‘bye!’ thrown his way before you turn around and leave, but he is. every time you leave him be, the throbbing ache that settles between his legs grows a lot heavier, and he knows that if he deals with it, it would just make things worse. 

it’s not like he has any plans to stop, though. he may be growing tired of the countless times he’s caught himself thinking about you, the image of your pretty self occupying his mind so much that he swears he sees you even when he closes his eyes, but the scenarios that he’s so keen on turning into a reality make the job a whole lot easier. there may be a twinge of guilt that crosses his mind after he spills into his hand once he’s done fucking himself raw into his fist, but he tries not to thinking about it too much. even when you’re not there, you’re still assisting him in some way. 

which is why he thinks that the universe is playing one massive, fucked-up prank on him when you chose the worst time to drop by his office—that dark, secluded area away from everyone else that he considers an office, anyway—and get greeted with the sight of him biting down on his fist while he furiously ruts into his hand in an attempt to get off. the need that emanates off his body is palpable; no matter how fast he’s stroking himself or how desperately he’s letting his fingers swipe over his leaking tip as pre-come trickles down the remainder of his length, he still can’t come. right now, the sounds that he’s making have more emotion than in any of the words he’s spoken to you, or to anyone, for that matter. it doesn’t make it easier that he’s suddenly terrified of how you’d treat him after seeing that spectacle of pure desperation on his part once he notices you’re there. 

but you, being you, are nothing short of understanding. when miguel asks you to leave (well, he kind of shouts at you because you were never supposed to see anything like that), you’re so caught up by what you saw that you stupidly offer to help him out, your voice and demeanor taking on your trademark shyness. 

miguel is many things, and you know him to be an incredibly efficient man. everything that follows is a blur, and you end up sprawled out on his desk, your clothes haphazardly tugged out of the way so that he could take up up on your offer. 

“you’re too fuckin’ nice,” he whines, wasting no time to peel away your panties and drag his fingers over your entrance. it almost sounds like he’s complaining at the fact that you are the way you are, but he doesn’t say anything. as his fingers curiously prod at your pussy to spread you nicely for him, his free hand is wrapped around his cock, dripping with his own arousal as it lays heavy in his fingers. 

a soft whimper slips out of your lips as he toys with your body, and it’s only sinking in now that you’re not sure if you can take all of him. but he needs help, right? he needs to feel better, so you keep your legs apart for him while he rubs the head of his cock on your sensitive clit. 

when he hears that, it takes all of his self-control to not sink his cock deep into your sweet little cunt right then and there. “i just—s’too much for a guy to take,” he mumbles, trying to push his tip past your soaked folds, because he’s so nice to let you off easy for now since he knows he’s big. “i never know if you’re teasing or not.” and it’s true; the way you tread so carefully and so gently with everyone, especially with him, makes him wonder whether or not this is your way of being coy. “it’s like you’re begging me to fuck you.” 

miguel doesn’t know where all these words are coming from because he knows for a fact that he’s not all that open with anything, much less with things this personal. however, there’s something about the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes and being completely exposed in a way he’s fantasized about for so long that it sends him reeling. 

you’ve been so nice for him, going above and beyond for something you don’t even need to do; of course he needs to return the favor by making you feel good too! it’s only fair, after all, that he shows his very specific way of thanking you. 

the moment you give him the go, he slides right into you, your wetness and his pre-come making it easier for him to finally feel what it is he’s been dreaming about for so long. he can’t stop the low moan that escapes him when he feels your warm walls enveloping his cock, your pussy so accommodating and welcoming, just like you. he’s so relieved that it’s not his hand that’s making him feel this way anymore; immediately, he wants to bottom out, to bury himself so deep inside you that he’s positive his tip nudges against your cervix. he never thought that you’d be so kind as to let him fuck you, and he’s so eager to draw out all those sounds and reactions when you let him take you. 

he pushes in deeper, his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit because he knows it’ll make you whine. “don’t think i can control myself, pretty girl,” he groans out, all the sensations hitting him like a ton of bricks, and he’s resisting the urge to move right after as you’re adjusting to him. you’re equally as fucked out as miguel and he’s not even all the way in yet. “i won’t stop until you’re crying for me, okay?” 

first time dabbling into smut writing so please be kind nyahaha also if there r grammatical errors no there aren't haha wdym

[zvdvdlvr]

Why’d You Have to Wait?

🔥 - synopsis. You get kidnapped on a case. Aaron’s coping mechanism? Self isolation. But when you’re recovering, Aaron wonders if staying away from you is the right thing to do. Jack convinces him anyway. Are things too far gone for Aaron to fix?

🔥 - warnings. Non descriptive torture. Scars. Burns. Very vaguely described mental issues. Slow burn. Friends ro enemies to lovers? Sad hotch. Angst. No happy ending.

🔥 - author’s note. Doing a part two. Hopefully this doesnt flop :)

Aaron had dreams about it now. They were so vivid- lifelike and real. Every time he had them he woke up in a cold sweat, heaving in the bathroom as tears dripped slowly down his face.

He hadn’t gone to the hospital to see you. In fact, Aaron hadn’t seen you since the day you almost died. He rode in the ambulance, but tore himself away from the hospital as he watched the doctors wheel you into the operating room. Your blood had stained his hands, face, and arms for days. Every time the white spots danced in his vision after emptying the contents of his stomach, he swears he can still see the glossy red liquid drip off his fingers.

You were well like. Not only by the team but by Strauss. She had given the team the time off to help y/n recover: sit in her room after another surgery, cheer for her during physical therapy.

Jack loved having time to see his dad after school, but he knew something was wrong after consistently hearing him pad to the kitchen during the middle of the night.

Tonight was no different.

Jack sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. He blinked owlishly around the room and stood up. The little Hotchner slowly followed the light to the kitchen and saw his daddy lean over the sink. “Daddy?”

Aaron turned his head and tried to smile at Jack. Aaron knew he probably looked a mess. “Hey buddy. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Before Aaron could set down set down his water cup, Jack crawled up the seat and watched his dad over the counter. “What’s wrong, daddy?”

“I just can’t sleep,” Aaron shrugged, facing Jack with his arms crossed. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

Jack looked at Aaron as if he had grown two heads. “You get up in the night a lot, daddy. And your eyes are red. You cough a lot too.“

Hotch wanted to laugh. Of course Jack knew something was wrong- he always knew. “Yeah. You’re right, kiddo.”

“You yell when you sleep sometimes too. What happened to y/n, daddy? She doesn’t come see me anymore.”

Aaron shuddered as he inhaled. Smart boy. “She got really hurt, buddy. It’s bad. I guess I just… get scared thinking about her getting hurt,” Aaron admits, feeling his heart beat faster in his chest.

Jack nodded. “Can we go see her?”

“I- I don’t think we should. She’s still getting better.”

Jack furrowd his eyebrows and tilted his head. “But I miss her.”

“I do t- I bet she misses you, too, Jack, but I don’t know how she’s doing. She might still-“

Jack sighed. “But daddy, she’d be so happy to see me!”

Aaron sighed. As much as he selfishly wanted to see you, he couldn’t. He’d do something he wasn’t proud of- embarrass himself, ruin his reputation of being a mentally and emotionally tough boss, ruin your friendship… No. Aaron couldn’t go by himself, but Jack could go with him. Why hadn’t Aaron thought of it before?

“Okay,” Aaron relented. A smile tugged at his lips when Jack’s face lit up. He scrambled off his chair and collided into Aaron’s legs and squeezed.

“Can I sleep with you tonight, daddy? Aunt Jess always stays with me when I have a nightmare.”

Aaron bent down and picked Jack up and nodded. “Yeah, buddy. Let me brush my teeth again.”

Jack wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck and squeezed, as big of a hug his little body could give.

— 🔥

The days were all a blur for you. Now that you were all fucked up, nothing felt right anymore. Second defree burns crawled up the calf of your left leg. Small cuts littered your entire body, scarring and twisting your skin. The worst part was the long, twisting scar that started on your cheek about two inches away from your ear and pulled down to your collarbone.

The unsub, Barney MacMillian, was a sadist. A stupid fucking sadist. He thought he was punishing you for hunting him when he kidnapped and tortured you.

You know the team tried- they really really did try- to cheer you up, to get you back. But the fact that you now considered yourself a monster and how you started to believe the things MacMillian had whispered in your ear as he tore you apart, layer by layer.

Derek genuinely thought your scar was badass, but learned not to bring it up. Penelope just kept rehashing everything- something you had eventually told her to atop doing. Prentiss was cautious, testing the waters. But she eventually got back into a rhythm with you as your best friend. JJ didn’t do anything wrong, she was just really nice- too nice? Spencer was… himself. And you couldn’t thank him enough for just staying him, recitinf facts about burns and scars, knives and blood loss. It was morbid, sure, but you were always close with him and the way his brain worked.

Rossi was the one that kept you together through it all, though. He had conversations with you, long past visiting hours. He talked with you about anything and everything and somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear or talk about. But he kept making excuses for Aaron.

Aaron. The romantic feelings you kept trying to flush away turned into hurt every time Rossi’s eyes flickered away from yours when you asked about him. But you knew now. He didn’t care. He never would. That’s why he didn’t show. It’s the only plausible explanation of why he wouldn’t show up, shoot you a text, something.

So you turned your hurt into anger and stopped asking, ignoring the way your heart would drop to your stomach and how the acid in your stomach churned eveey time you heard his name.

You already had your resignation documenta stored neatly in a magazine in the second table in the nightstand to your right. You were done with it all.

— 🔥

That’s why you felt tears prick in your eyes when you saw Jack Hotchner leap into the room. His little eyes scoured your face, eyes dragging down the healing skin on your face. You heard Aaron’s footfalls stop short at the door. Your jaw clenched and you stared at Jack, waiting for him to start crying and ask to leave.

But he didn’t. He just smiled and leapt into your arms, completely unaware of the physical pain in your leg and body. He just wrapped his arms and legs around you.

You sat still, eyes looking at Rossi, who smiled at you. You hadn’t yet looked at Aaron and didn’t even want to. Carefully you wrapped your arms around Jack’s back, ignoring how fast the tears left your eyes.

Jack pulled back and looked at you with a smile that faded the second he saw your tears. In all of your time (almost 10 years) at the BAU, Jack had only seen you cry once. And that was during a movie. 

“I thought coming to see you what make you happy,” he sad, voice sad. “Why are you crying?”

You smiled at him, sniffling pitifully. “I’m not sad, little J. I am really happy to see you,” you said. You hoped Aaron would hear the sharp undertone in your voice. Judging by Rossi’s huff of a laugh, he did.

“Oh! Well, I brought you stuff. I know you like the Black Widow because she’s really cool, so I brought you a coloring book,” Jack explained as he brandished his backpack full of stuff. You listensed intently, only looking up when Rossi got your attention and nodded to the door to signal him leaving.

Jack kept talking and you were overjoyed to listen. He was a pleasent little man, making your time more enjoyable. He opened up the coloring book he bought and started coloring after giving you a Beanie Baby he had that you mentioned you liked. He also got you a necklace- that Aaron no doubt spent a pretty penny for- that had your birthstone set in it. Jack watched you carefully as you opened it, and he put it on with his chubby fingers. You didn’t tell him that you would have to take it off soon after he left so it didn’t kill you when you slept. Hospital policy or something.

Soon after you finished your own coloring page featuring the Black Widow and Tony Stark making a hero landing, Jack turned on the T.V. and fell asleep.

“Hey,” Aaron said finally.

You nodded. “Hi boss.”

Aaron bit his lip. You stared forward, hand threading through Jack’s hair. Aaron felt his heart clenching in his chest. He didn’t know how you were gonna react when he came by, but he didn’t expect this- this silent treatment. He didn’t really blame you though. He wanted more than anything to make it up to you, to get you smiling again, but he knew the distance was probably better. For him at least.

“Y/n-“ Aaron started.”

You cut him off with. “Jack’s asleep, sir. It would be best not to wake him.”

Sir. You only called him sir if you were mad. Aaron swallowed. He knew he fucked up. Would he ever be able to fix his mistake, bring the old you back? He pondered the questions as he leaned back in his chair and watched the television show Jack chose before he fell asleep.

— 🔥

“Y/n is getting sent home today,” David’s voice crackled through the phone. “We wanted to take her out to dinner, something nice. Are you coming?”

Aaron sat at the kitchen table, checking over Jack’s homework. Jack himself was sitting a couple feet away on the couch. “Probably not. I have Jack.” 

Rossi scoffed on the other line. “She loves Jack and he loves her. Bring him with you.”

“I don’t know,” Aaron sighed. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “Dave, she hates me.”

Silence. Rossi exhaled and shook his head. “She doesn’t hate you, but you’re giving her a lot of reasons to. Clean yourself up and meet us all at the address Garcia’ll send you. 6:00. Be there, Aaron. If not for her…” he trailed off, considering his next words carefully. “Then for Jack.”

— 🔥

David convinced you all to wait until ordering.

But when 6:45 rolled around and Aaron didn’t show, you just clenched your jaw and ordered a neat whiskey.

[ma1dita]

entropy

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.6k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. You and Luke forge a promise of becoming partners in crime. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: something happy for the tl– this is the official end of the pre-established relationship arc!! contains two demigods hating their godrents and typical teenager mood swings (thanks for being patient during my hiatus! missed yall <3)

(posted 6/20/24, semi-edited)

—

Whoever said that finding where you belong is the key to happiness must have been lying.

That, or they’ve never known what it’s like to be a 15-year-old girl.

Sweat drips down the side of your brow bone in the middle of the summer heat. It’s a mystery why you’re still out here with the blistering itch of humidity sending everyone at Camp Half-Blood out to the lake to cool off during free period. You’ve never been friendly with the other campers anyway. It’s not for lack of trying—but toeing the line between being a total psychopath (because of who your dad is—THE god of insanity) and the biggest possible narc (also because of who your dad is—the worst camp director ever) didn’t exactly help your reputation in the past year of taking up space here.

And honestly… teenagers can be fucking mean.

The Aphrodite kids often laugh at your unkempt appearance, hair brushed only by the warm breeze and your camp shirt twisted and tie-dyed to your liking. You had a knack for getting into trouble with the Hephaestus kids after setting something on fire at the armory once… or twice. The Apollo kids were nice enough for as long as you’d sing a song—but there was no way you’d stick in the background arranging sheet music and playing guitar for them forever. Athena cabin was always too cool for you—with no one but little Annabeth Chase entertaining your endless chattering (but if anyone asked, you’d think it’s because they’re all sore losers when it comes to chess). The Ares kids were a little more your speed if only they would stop using you as moving target practice and the Demeter kids might’ve been nicer if you knew how to grow anything other than strawberries. 

It was nice to be included, you guess. Tolerated at best.

But it wasn’t the same as feeling like you belonged.

From the corner of your eye, you see Luke Castellan come back from lunch and dust kicks up from under your boots as you cross your legs in the lawn chair you sit in. Blinking harshly, you realize you’ve been squinting at the sun for ages. He’s seen you do weirder things since you’ve both somewhat acclimated yourselves to Camp Half-Blood’s culture, with you becoming a bit of an oddity as well as local entertainment with the shit you pull to get your dad to look your way. But it was something about the way you were so still under the sunlight that piqued his interest.

And quiet. You were never quiet.

Since you moved out of cabin 11 almost a year ago, his life has admittedly been a bit more peaceful, him finding his groove as a camper and…becoming everything that you’re not. Sure, he’s getting used to calling this place home, but where he shines, you’ve… struggled. Can’t say the same for him though—admittedly his life is kinda great right now.

If you needed a sub for volleyball, Luke’s your guy. Oh no, we need help bringing bushels of strawberries to the kitchens! Luke’s there to help. Someone needs a hand with sparring— there’s no one better than Luke Castellan! The all-star camper, and everyone’s best friend. He’s in talks to become cabin counselor by next year while you’ve had almost every punishment Mr. D can think of giving.

No dessert, shoveling pegasus shit, helping the nymphs on your days off, and the list just goes on. Sometimes you wonder if it’s your father’s way of keeping you busy so he doesn’t have to see you—it’s a miracle you haven’t been disintegrated yet by the god of insanity himself, but perhaps that’s both a pro and con of being his only daughter.

On his way out of his cabin, he stops short a ways away from the firepit, gaze falling upon the red tips of your hair hanging off the chair you lay on (chemically lightened by lemon juice and Kool-Aid you’ve recently learned to conjure). The piercings in your ears sparkle in the warm light—you and a few kids from the Hephaestus cabin pulled them off one late night with sewing needles and apples from the kitchens. 

It’s crazy what you can learn about someone by watching them from afar. Slightly creepy, and kind of concerning, but if anyone bothered to ask, Luke had an excuse for why he was always looking out the front window of cabin 11. The Hermes cabin was directly across the way from the Dionysus cabin, which housed its sole inhabitant, you. 

That in itself is a shitty excuse, he knows that, but… Luke worries. He knows he shouldn’t, but his eyes always subconsciously find their way back to you and whatever trouble you find yourself in—last week it was a pegasi stampede through the north end of the strawberry fields.

Yeah… you didn’t have a good explanation for that one either.

“Shouldn’t you be showing off and saving camp from a chimera, Castellan? Or kissing a baby, or something else super awesome and cool?” you mock, nose crinkling slightly.

He blinks, face falling as he stumbles off the porch towards you, a whisper of a smile still grazing his cheekbones. The sight almost makes you angry, really, and a part of him knows that he’s the bane of your existence. 

How rude of him to be good at everything and good-looking. Truthfully, it made his face very punchable, in your opinion—but the growing list of girls and boys that began to fawn over him after his growth spurt last winter probably think otherwise. 

“Only baby I see here is you,” he mumbles, pulling a chair up next to yours and flopping his dead weight into it, “What’re you doing here pouting all by yourself?”

Your eyes follow his movements and you can’t help but inspect all of him—from the lean muscles that ripple down his arms to the sweat that glitters as it kisses his cupid’s bow. 

He better not dare to kiss me even as a joke, you think, there would be nothing worse than that!

“Trouble? You know you scare me when you’re quiet. S’how I know you’re bothered by something,” Luke nudges your forearm jokingly, hands slightly sticky and smelling like cherries and smoke. His tongue is painted red from a popsicle he snuck out from the kitchens earlier. The sparklers he stole from the basement of the Big House still line his pockets.

No one ever looks twice at the golden boy, after all.

You shrug, kicking your legs under your bottom and staring back up at the clouds that hang overhead. Zeus could strike you down right now and you’d probably thank him. Death by the king of the gods seemed way more interesting than the personal hell of being at Camp Half-Blood you think, sputtering, “What’s it to you? Shouldn’t the camp hotshot have better things to do than hang around someone like me?” But the words feel heavy in your mouth, uncomfortable and clunky as you wet your lips with your tongue and clear your throat. Luke watches your eyes steel, turning away from him like orating a script to an imaginary audience. 

The world is your stage and you feel as if you’re but a performer that has to fulfill an act.

It’s easier somehow like this—to not let your feelings go rogue, or let yourself feel too strongly. All of your efforts have fallen short, despite your mother’s dying vow that these would be the best years of your life. But with one year down, sometimes you wonder if you’d stand a better chance out in the mortal world—hitchhiking your way back down south to the empty house you used to call home. 

Maybe a chimera would get you first. 

Or a hellhound. 

You could probably take a hellhound, right?

A smirk falls upon your lip, freshly bitten and raw and you realize he’s still there next to you. Luke is still watching you silently as his hand taps on the wooden arm of the lawn chair—a nonsensical beat that fills the silence that follows like someone feeling their way around a wound. His contemplation is gentle, even if your expression is festering the longer you sit together.

“You're literally the coolest girl here. Since when did you give a shit about what anyone has to say?”

Your face is stoic, amethyst eyes bouncing down the slope of his face and back up until they meet his that are honey-sweet. 

I CARE! a voice inside you wants to scream. It sounds like a little version of you stomping her foot until someone finally pays attention. But Luke’s eyes are already on your clenched fists and you haven’t made a single sound.

“Since when does Mr. Perfect know how to cuss?” you deflect, and he barks out a laugh, shaking his head yet nodding for you to continue. He knows that’s not what you meant to say.

“I can hardly believe that you of all people here think that I’m cool. I’m kind of a mess,” you try to reason, puffing your chest so that the breath makes your hair sway away from your face. 

“Sure,” Luke says as his chin rests against his arm. He blinks slowly, taking you in almost thoughtfully as he feels out his next words, “But you’re…you.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Mischief prances through his features and you absolutely hate the look he gets on his face when he thinks he knows better than you.

Egotistical piece of shit.

Your hand jabs out to shove his, all of his front falling over in a fit of laughter as he catches himself and suddenly he’s too close. Close enough that for a moment, you’re scared he might see right through you.

Luke Castellan is not someone who would ever understand the pressure that you currently buckle under. 

“You’ve got it all, you know? You can do whatever you want, your dad notices you. You’ve already found your glory by just being here… I mean all of us here want tha—” Your fist hits the wall of muscle in his abdomen. It’s haphazard and a cheap shot that probably hurt you more than him, but anger was the first emotion to surface (and you did say he was punchable—next time you’ll aim for his jaw). Luke huffs, slightly winded, though if anything his ego is the only thing coming out of this with a bruise.

“What?”

“What do you mean what, asshole? You think I want any of this?” you laugh coldly, reeling away from him like he’s burned you. Hands to your chest, scalded by his words, Luke is trying to find the misstep in his actions with his mind running miles a minute as he watches your brows furrow and you’re shaking like a pot about to boil over.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

You’re not looking at him anymore, trembling hands doing more harm than good as you throw your stuff into your worn knapsack. This must be your last straw, you think, quickly thinking of your meager belongings packed underneath your bed and a letter to your dad tucked under your pillow. This is your sign to get the hell out of here. But as you’re tugging the canvas cloth over your shoulder, a gentle hand clasps around the straps, and a soft, “Hey, hey…” makes its way towards your ears and the frosty feeling that surrounds your heart.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke mumbles, spinning you to look at him as he sighs. Worry is a familiar feeling he’s acquainted with over this past year of knowing you, “Come on now, tell me. I’m a better listener than I am at speaking, obviously…” He catches the quiver in your lip with a graze of his finger, leading you back to your seat and placing your bag at his feet—making sure you can’t run, and even if you wanted to, you’re unsure of what else you have left to lose. 

“Everyone thinks I have it easy because I don’t let anything break my smile. But I’d rather be anywhere than here. I’m a joke, hones—”

“Don’t say that,” he interjects, quickly silenced by your glare.

“You think it’s all sunshine and rainbows that I see my godrent every day? That what, I’m lucky?” 

Luke simpers, curls falling over his forehead as jealousy clouds his vision. He has a few choice words towards his own father, but surely it can’t be all that bad. Anything must be better than a broken mother and a dreadfully absent father. 

“Hit me with it already, Trouble.”

“My dad loves me because he has to. But there’s no way he actually likes me. It shouldn't get to me that much, even if he hates the parts of me I got from him, but it does. No one here likes me either.”

You don’t know whether you should laugh or cry, opening up to Luke like this. All you know is you haven’t been vulnerable to anyone in a while—the last you tried to talk to your dad about your dead mother left you with more questions than answers.

Trying to gauge the look on his face, you avert your eyes, picking at the peeling polish on your nails as you continue, “I think my father is lonely here in a camp full of children that aren’t his own and almost a mortal lifetime away from his seat on Olympus. He has a wife who waits for the eternity they’ll have to spend with each other. And I’m nothing but a smudge on his timeline— a reminder of a life that he had before saving her. I'm the last thing that holds him back from being happy.” 

He listens. And then he speaks, almost blurting, “I’m my dad’s favorite—or so they say. So he likes me for all the effort I put into being his son, but he doesn’t love me. Not how he should. I can count the number of times I’ve seen him and my mom’s not dead, even if it’s easier to tell everyone that. But I’ve lost her anyway and he let that happen.”

That’s grim.

There are cracks of darkness in the sunshine boy after all. There’s a gleam of angst in both of your stares, daring the other to compete in this little pity party and seeing who would give in first. But neither of you break—shiny fractals of both your experiences blending into an understanding.

A middle ground.

A huff of laughter is released between the both of you, breathy and warm hitting your cheeks as you turn to each other like little kids giggling in secret. Perhaps you are— two 15-year-olds feeling weightless for a moment now that your shoulders shake without the pressures you place upon yourselves, and by this kindness alone, maybe.... maybe this place isn't so bad.

Someone calls out for Luke, figures hidden in the forestline. The moment quickly ends after that, a fuzzy feeling in your chest left behind, ignited every time your eyes meet his. It’s like he didn’t hear anything though, stuck to your side still grinning like you could give him the key to the city.

“If it matters, I like you,” he chokes out, clearing his throat as his eyes dart away from yours. By the time the blush rises to his cheeks your eyebrows have already shot into your hairline in disbelief watching Luke Castellan, camp’s pride and joy stumble over the simplest words he’s spoken all day.

You’re quiet again, which stresses him out more— frantic words ripping through his teeth in a blur of "Um, erm, not like... I mean in the sense that—" and your tongue pokes through your cheek in a bad attempt to stop a smile. You look soft—and thankfully not like you’re about to punch him, finally having the upper hand when it comes to him. Luke blinks slowly, shaking his head— "You're just really cool."

“You said that already.”

He shrugs, not really having anything more to say. The boy is embarrassed enough.

Have you always looked that pretty when you’re smug?

Snorting at his flustered state, you mutter, “Olympus would rejoice the day I be more like you, you know that, Castellan?” And he shrugs playfully, liking the way you don’t press on the topic when you could’ve gone for blood, “Olympus might fall if you teach me a thing or two.”

The warning bell rings overhead and Chiron's voice booms over the speakers— “CAMPERS, MONSTER TECHNIQUES WILL BEGIN IN 10 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY OVER TO THE AMPITHEATER.”

“I should go.”

“Sure. You’re teaching, right? New big gig,” you say nonchalantly as you expect him to leave and probably never talk to you again. You’re used to that by now, and whatever understanding between you doesn’t make you friends.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Oh.

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides, but his feet are planted deep into the dirt, his red Converse pushing the soil beneath him. He doesn’t want to leave. But he thinks that maybe if he had to, he’d leave a place like this for someone like you.

Maybe.

“Monster fighting is more your thing, isn’t it?”

He grins lamely, walking backward towards the woods with his eyes still on you, “You’ll find your thing. M’sure of it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you bend over to pick up your things again, “Yeah, yeah. Like anyone would want to hear me tell stories or do my little crafts.”

“Why the hell not, Trouble?”

Luke throws his hands up in the air before scampering away to join his friends. It's hard to admit, but he's got a point—maybe this is an idea your dad will actually appreciate. A shiver wracks through your body. You find yourself being excited about something to do at camp for the first time in a long time.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to stay a little longer, you think as you trudge into your cabin, unknowingly kicking your knapsack further underneath the bed. You flop onto the bedspread with your notebook out, brainstorming what a Greek Legends and Theatrics workshop would look like. If you can get your words onto a page, you could pitch this to Mr. D by morning. A spark shines in your eye like the glittery glow-in-the-dark stars that hang from your bedroom ceiling.

Hopefully this won’t end in you shoveling pegasi shit.

—

You’re standing at the edge of the dining pavilion, tray in hand as campers bump past your frame, rushing towards their tables to eat dinner. There’s no one at your table but your dad and the idea of proposing the idea of your workshop sounds so terrifying right now that your stomach turns. 

And then there’s Luke Castellan waving you over towards the Hermes table like a madman.

Huh.

You thought being crazy was supposed to be your thing.

He clambers up over the bench, all gangly legs moving towards you until he’s there grabbing your tray from your hands with a smile, “Come on, trouble. Still got a spot at my table. Chris just falls into it before I ever get the chance to call you over.”

You look at him like he’s stupid, your hands on the opposing side of your tray and the both of you are locked in a stalemate in the middle of the pavilion. Curious eyes make their way over to you both, and murmurs of excitement for a fight start to rise. Here’s the thing—it’s something to grab attention, but it being put on you without your control is a bit nerve-wracking, to say the least.

“We're not allowed to mix tables, Castellan.”

“Since when do you care?”

Since when do YOU, you think. Standing between comfort and chaos, your eyes meet your father’s, expectant as he watches you from across the room. There is comfort in the silence that would consume you at your table. You’d be able to eat in peace and hear your thoughts compared to the lack of elbow space at Table 11. Too many of them steal each others’ desserts, crack bad jokes, and kick each other under the table, but it still makes you smile. You choose the chaos instead, slowly making your way over to the Hermes kids who greet you with a loud cheer.

Children of mischief and chaos are like birds of a feather, after all. There is comfort in this madness too—and you think Mr. D almost smiles when his eyes meet yours once more.

You’re crafty when it's something you can fix; painting a picture of yourself that’s cool and interesting for others to see, but in reality, all every teenager wants is to fit in.

Who would’ve thought Luke Castellan was going to help with that?

“One of these days you’re gonna have to put the nice boy act in your back pocket, Castellan. I’m positively dying for the day you reveal yourself to me.”

Luke chuckles over a mouthful of mashed potatoes, shoulder knocking into yours intentionally, though the both of you are thigh to thigh on the crowded bench. You ignore the fact that one of his little brothers steals the cherry off your ice cream sundae, and he ignores the fact that his constant worry for you reveals itself as another, deeper thing—care.

“What you see is what you get,” he murmurs into your ear. Heat creeps up your neck and you look up to see your dad looking at you again, and then— “Hey, hey… eyes on me.” Turning to look at him, his breath hits your cheek, “You’re the only daughter of Dionysus. The only person I know born to be able to raise hell for a god. Gotta use it to your advantage more, Trouble. You’re not here to entertain anyone. You gonna let him win?” he asks.

Blinking slowly, you eat a spoonful of rice, cheeks full but not concealing your smile.

“Where’s the glory in that, right?”

—

“The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.” -Homer

[lacroixqueen]

mirror mirror on the wall stalker deadpool x fem!reader (18+, explicit non-con)

Summary: deadpool follows you when you go into your office bathroom to masturbate. mirror smut ensues hehe

Pairing: stalker deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: stalking, choking, non-con, office setting, bathroom, mirror

Part 1 and Part 2 but there's really no plot lol

You couldn’t bring yourself to focus at work the next day. Flashes of yesterday night kept clouding your concentration and taking you out of the moment. The lines on your screen that detailed the new promotion’s engagement numbers kept swaying to the side and blurring over. You tapped the tip of your high heel nervously against the floor, breath catching as you tried to complete your task. But you just. Couldn’t. Breathe. 

It’s like you were unable to control your own mind. Whenever you tried to send an email or even open a file, thoughts of his fingers in your mouth immediately appeared in your conscience. Or how his hands felt wrapped around your neck. 

You stood up abruptly, startling your coworker the next cubicle over. 

“Y/N… what has gotten into you,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Everyone is watching you.”

“I just have to go to the bathroom,” you replied a little too quickly for comfort, brushing off your pencil skirt and darting down the hallway. 

Beads of sweat were beginning to form at the top of your forehead, as you twisted your fingers over each other. You just couldn’t get him out of your head. You still have no idea what even possessed you to enjoy yourself so much last night, but you did and you hate yourself for it. 

You pushed through the doors of one of the hallway bathrooms and immediately rushed to the sink, planting your arms on the marble counter.  You splashed some cold water onto your face, trying to regulate your breathing. 

Stop thinking about him, you chastised yourself, back stiffening as you took in your mottled appearance in the mirror. You decided to ruffle up your hair a bit and apply a new layer of lip gloss while you were at it. You didn’t quite understand why every single thought revolved around Wade. After all, he was the one obsessing over you, not the other way around, right? As in, he broke into your apartment and slept with you like you belonged to him for crying out loud. 

And yet you are the one who couldn’t get him out of your goddamn head. You retouched your mascara a bit, lips folded into a pout as you continued to internally scold yourself. Your mind still flickered occasionally to the way his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you down. Or how his fingers stretched you wide open. And the way he-

Flinging yourself into the closest stall and deadbolting yourself in, you quickly unzipped the top of your skirt to slightly loosen the waistband. You leaned up against the wall, and rested your high heel on the toilet lid, allowing your hands access to your already soaked panties. 

Sighing, you gently caressed the tops of your nylon stockings, working your fingers up to the divot in your inner thighs. You dipped your fingers underneath your lacy panties, rubbing your tight clit back and forth as you finally allowed your imagination to run wild. 

Like how you wanted him to fuck you just as hard as he did last night, if not more. And how your skin practically melted underneath his leather glove. His hot tongue tracing the contour of your neck. 

You sighed as you unbuttoned your sweater and white blouse, dipping your fingers deep inside yourself while moaning softly. You hated this version of yourself. The kind that gives into him so easily. The one that doesn’t lie so vehemently about not enjoying every bit of attention he gives you so freely. 

You closed your eyes while you played with yourself, pretending that your fingers his. You could feel your cheeks flushing hot, your hair twisted into messy strands as you pushed yourself closer towards a climax. 

“Wade..” you whined as you dug your heels into the ceramic surface underneath, feeling yourself dripping all over your inner thighs and legs. 

Until you heard someone open the door. You froze into place for a moment or two, before stepping quietly on top of the toilet lid, attempting to breathe as silently as possible. 

What the hell were you thinking, your thoughts raced at a million miles per minute. I must have lost my mind. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” you heard a familiar voice ring. “Masturbating in a bathroom stall at work? I mean you have really hit a new low, Y/N.”

Your blood ran cold the moment you registered who that voice belonged to. How did he even find out where I was?

His footsteps clacked against the ceramic tiles, the sound ricocheting off the walls. 

“I never chalked you up to be someone so dirty, Y/N,” he chuckled, running the handle of his katana across every stall door. “I mean, this is something even I wouldn’t do. And I’m the kind of person who literally sneaks into your apartment and jerks off with a pair of your tights.”

“So that’s where they went?!” you whispered to yourself, before instantly cupping your mouth shut. 

“Ooh, I heard you~” Deadpool exclaimed in a sing-songy tone. “You should just stop playing these stupid little games and get your ass out here already. We both know you want to.”

You steadied yourself on the railing, trying your hardest not to slip but your heels were beginning to slide off the porcelain lid. 

“Eenie, meenie, minie, you,” the assassin called out playfully as he cut through the locks of your bathroom stall, whipping open the door without a moment of hesitation. 

“Oh! I guessed correctly!” he celebrated, literally applauding himself for his efforts. “See, I heard you earlier when you were whining and moaning ‘Waaade’ a few minutes ago, so I decided to come in and investigate. But lo and behold, there was no one here! So I went and peaked in a couple bathroom stalls, and then I heard you talking to yourself and Yahtzee! Here you are. You know, you really are not very good at hiding. Something you should definitely reflect on.”

“Can you please get out?” you cried, standing up and trying to conceal the wetness between your thighs by pulling down your skirt. “I don’t know why you keep following me around everywhere but this has got to stop.”

“Aww, don’t be such a partypooper!” he teased, trailing right behind you as you headed to the sink to wash your hands clean. “I mean, I came all the way here to visit you at work. Don’t you think that’s kind of romantic?”

“You’re not my boyfriend, so no,” you shot back. “It’s creepy and it’s weird.”

“You’re breaking my heart here,” he whined, clutching his chest in a melodramatic fashion, as if he was about to keel over. “Plus, you’re also just being a really bad liar.”

“Oh am I now?” you said sarcastically, touching up your blush without even glancing in his direction. “Goodness me, you caught me red-handed. I am just head over heels falling in love with my stalker, mind you, the one who comes in and out of my house as he pleases? The one who breaks my windows and steals my clothes? Sounds about right.”

“Well, you sure sounded that way when you were moaning my name last night,” Wade grumbled, walking up behind you, a little bit too close for comfort now. 

“Can you just-,” you hissed as you whipped around, exasperated at this point. You stepped back a bit, slightly intimidated by how much he towered over you despite you wearing heels today. “Stop. Doing. This. Whatever this is. It needs to come to an end. Right here, right now.”

“What, this?” Wade snickered as he tried to unbutton your blouse even more than you already have, his eyes glazing over your exposed cleavage. “Oh my god they are beautiful. Oh by the way, can I just squeeze them a little bit, or put them in my mouth, even for a second, oh please-” 

“Nope,” you replied, smacking his hand away while buttoning up your shirt and pulling your cardigan over your chest. “Everything. The whole following me around situation. I don’t know what you are thinking most of the time, but you have already stepped over my boundaries and broken a dozen laws at this point. I don’t know you nor am I attracted to you so can you please just leave me alone?”

“Then why are you dripping all over the bathroom floor?” he asked, pointing out the very obvious puddle that has begun to form beneath your heels. “Look. I’m more than happy to go with your decision, but you're not really making a strong case for yourself here, sweetheart. Like, I’m a feminist for crying out loud! You know how much I respect women’s autonomy. I mean for God’s sake, Gloria Steinem would be rolling in her grave if she watched me walk away from you when that’s the exact opposite of what you want.”

“She is still alive!” you snapped, turning back around to finish touching up your lipstick. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as the assassin has decided to slam you against the marble counter, bending you over perfectly so he could admire the view. 

“You know, you really are no fun,” he said, tone suddenly shifting, his leathered glove sneaking over your back and lifting up your skirt.  “Ooo, black panties with a thigh garter. God, you know those are my weakness. You can be such a fucking tease sometimes, Y/N.”

He fondled the round of your ass before giving it a hard smack, sending a shiver down your spine as you tried to stand up, only to be bent over again. 

“And I love the nylon stockings..” he murmured, running his fingers over the tops, sliding them underneath to tease the sensitive skin on your thighs. “Where were these when I broke in the other day? I would have taken them home with me if I had known.”

“You are such a sick fucking bastard you know that?” you cried, wiggling beneath his tight grip. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” he replied, pulling the fabric of your thigh garter back and allowing it to slap back against your skin, leaving a red mark. He then twisted your thong between his fingertips and pulled them forcefully to the side. “But you’re also dripping wet, so who’s the real pervert now?” 

He laughed, quite pleased with himself as he admired your tight, glistening pussy. He slipped two of his leathered fingers inside of you, gleefully anticipating your reaction as he started to slide them rhythmically in and out. 

You moaned softly, giving into him yet again, your legs beginning to shake uncontrollably. He withdrew his fingers for a moment, stretching them out a bit, creating a thick string between them, only to shove them back into you. 

You tossed your head back, watching him as he tortured you so shamelessly, as if it was second nature. 

“Wade..” you begged. “Sl-slow down..”

“And ruin my tempo?!” he exclaimed. “You really ask for so much at once.” He went ahead and slipped in a third finger, eliciting another whine from you. 

“I love the way you sound when I’m inside you,” he muttered, leaning over your back and whispering into your ear. “Can you scream a bit louder for me, please? Because every fucking time you let out a little moan, it just makes me want to fuck you ten times harder, did you know that?”

You nodded your head obediently, gasping as Wade spanked you one more time before pushing his cock deep inside of you. 

“Do you like that, Y/N?” he said, abruptly lifting you up from your bent position so he could wrap his free hand around your throat while ramming into you relentlessly. “Watching yourself in the mirror like this? Seeing how much of a little slut you are for me, taking me so good without even the slightest objection?”

“I-I hate you..” you stammered out, watching as a rosy blush began to creep over your cheeks, your eyelashes fluttering as you felt him prod repeatedly against your g-spot. 

“Again with the lying, sweetie,” Wade sighed, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “I know that you were thinking about me when you were touching yourself earlier, by the way. Most likely imagining this exact scenario. Really, you should be thanking me because I’m doing you a huge favor here. Most people who masturbate don’t just have their fantasies show up at their doorstep, you really are one of the luckiest people ever in that regard. It’s like you’re in a fucking fanfiction or something..”

“I wasn’t thinking about you!” you snapped, only to be punished with another smack on your rounded hip. “In your wildest dreams, Wade.” 

He released your neck from his grasp, and gently unbuttoned your blouse from behind, slowly revealing your dark lacy bra and cleavage. Wade went ahead and yanked your arms, folding them behind your back while continuing to pound into you. “You’re so feisty today,” he chuckled. “I sort of like it when you’re like this.”

The squelching sounds from your pussy ricocheted off the vinyl walls. Every now and then you would moan his name, or beg him to stop so you could at the very least catch your breath, only for him to bend you back over again and whisper a thousand more depraved desires of his into your ear. 

“I’m so close, Y/N,” he grunted, twisting your hair around his wrist and pulling back hard. “You did such a good job today, being so tight and sweet for me, taking me so well. I could fuck you forever if I could.”

“Ah, nwghn..” you managed to sputter out, gripping onto the countertop for dear life as he pulled out. Mischievously, he tucked his cock into your thigh garter and pushed it into your stocking, cumming all over your quivering leg. 

You slowly straightened up your back, your skirt and heels absolutely drenched. You walked up to the mercenary, who was now leaning against a bathroom stall, looking quite pleased with himself. He admired how pretty you looked with your hair in a mess, lipstick smeared all over your cheek, and his cum dripping down your thighs. 

“I.. will never forgive you for this,” you said through clenched teeth, sticking your pointer finger into his chest. You almost collapsed over with how much your legs were shaking from how rough he was with you earlier. Fortunately, he did manage to catch you before you fell onto the floor.

“Yeah, yeah,” he countered, giving your ass one last playful smack for good measure as you headed out through the swinging doors. “Have a great rest of your day at work, you dirty little whore.”

You sat down into your cubicle chair without speaking so much of another word, proceeding to type out your report with enough speed and ferocity your coworker asked you if everything was alright. 

“I’m fine,” you said a little too quickly, sending out yet another email, and pretending that he wasn’t the only thing occupying your every thought. 

[childrenofcain-if]

C seeing an academic rival flirting with MC and getting into an argument with MC after class jsjjhjjj

C’s eyes narrowed as they watched the scene unfold across the lecture hall. they were supposed to be focusing on the professor’s lecture on macroeconomic theory, but their attention was locked onto the sight of their chess rival from vanderbilt hall—riley calloway, of all people—leaning over your desk with that infuriatingly charming smile. the way they tilted their head slightly, the way you laughed at whatever they’d just said—it grated on C in a way they didn’t want to focus on too deeply.

when riley brushed their hand against yours, a flash of something hot and unpleasant surged in C’s chest. they clenched their fist around their pen, almost snapping it in half. the rest of the lecture passed in a blur of irritation, every whispered exchange between you and riley fueling the fire of their annoyance.

by the time class ended, C was practically vibrating with tension. they watched as you gathered your things, riley still lingering near the doorway of the lecture hall, clearly not in any hurry to leave. C shoved their notebook into their bag, barely waiting for the room to empty out before storming over to where you sat.

“you seem to be getting pretty cozy with calloway,” C said, the words sharp and accusing as they loomed over you.

you looked up at them, surprise flickering across your face before it morphed into something defensive. “what’s it to you?”

“what’s it to me?” C repeated, incredulous. “they’re a vanderbilt resident and our competition. you know that as well as i do. you’re giving them an advantage by—” they waved a hand vaguely in riley’s direction, as if the very sight of the redhead was offensive. “—by whatever it is you’re doing.”

you blinked, thrown off by the accusation laced in their tone. “we were just talking.”

“talking?” C echoed you, their voice laced with disdain. they shot a withering glance at riley, who, sensing the tension, had the good sense to step away from the doorway, though not without a smug smirk directed at C. “it looked like more than just talking.”

“so what if it was?” you shot back, your voice rising. “why do you care anyway, lacroix?”

C’s mouth opened and closed, caught off guard by your question. “i—” they faltered, the words they wanted to say tangled up with the ones they should say. “that’s not the point. the point is, you’re better than that. we’re not supposed to be fraternizing with our hall’s rivals.”

your lips pressed into a thin line, the defensive edge in your voice sharpening. “what gives you the right to decide that? just because we’re from the same hall doesn’t mean you get to dictate who i talk to. maybe i’m tired of seeing everyone as competition. not everything has to be a fucking game, lacroix.”

“but it is a game,” C shot back, their words laced with the kind of bitterness that comes from a life spent in a constant race to win. “and you’re playing right into their hands.”

“and you think you know what’s best for me?” you challenged, an eyebrow lifting up defiantly. “because from where i’m standing, it sounds more like jealousy than concern.”

the accusation hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. C stiffened, their chalcodeny green gaze locking with yours. “jealousy? you think i’m jealous of that peasant?”

you stand up, refusing to back down. “aren’t you, lacroix?”

C’s jaw tightened, their thoughts racing. the truth was, they didn’t have a name to put on what they felt. all they knew was that the sight of you and riley together had twisted something inside them, something ugly and filled with rage.

a heavy silence fell between you, the kind that made the very air feel oppressive. the dim afternoon light filtered in through the tall windows, casting the room in shades of gray, the shadows on C’s face making their expression even more severe and conflicted.

“you think you know everything, don’t you?” you finally said, your voice quieter now, almost tired. “but you don’t. you don’t know anything about what i want. you don’t even know me. you never tried to.”

C’s eyes darkened, their anger momentarily faltering, replaced by something almost vulnerable, almost desperate.

“i did. more than you’d ever know,” they said, but the words were softer, as if they were unsure of them.

you blinked in shock, mouth opening to utter a question following their admission before closing them again.

“why do you care so much, C?” you asked quietly, deciding on not poking their previous statement. “and please be honest this time.”

“because…” they hesitated, searching for the right words. “because i don’t want to see you get hurt. and i don’t want them, or anyone, to have any part of you that i haven’t earned.”

the vulnerability in C’s voice took you by surprise, the sincerity in them almost gut-wrenching. the rivalry, the hate, the constant push and pull—it was all still there, but beneath it, something new was wrapping its roots. something that neither of you were ready to confront yet.

without another word, C turned and walked away, the echo of their footsteps the only sound in the now-empty lecture hall. but as they left, the weight of your gaze lingered on their back, and you couldn’t help but realise that this might’ve been the first time—as far as you know—they’d gazed at you with as much tenderness as their pale green eyes were capable of.

[s-4pphics]

can i request making ellie choke on readers strap.. I’m talking gargling gagging drooling.. THEE SLOPPIEST head ever

I FORGOT HOW TO WRITE REQS IM SORRYDJDJD ITS BEEN SO LONG…. but ellie’s a finger sucker. a subtle invite to fuck her throat 🩷

ellie’s a fiddler, and it becomes more and more evident the more comfortable she gets. whenever she’s home and has down time, she’s messing with something; a pencil, balled-up pieces of paper that she didn’t have the heart to toss, a guitar pic. anything that fits in her hand… will stay there. she can’t help it. call it nerves or muscle memory or a tic; she doesn’t care. give her something to hold. 

and it’s the same whenever you’re present. on the couch, on her bed, in your bed, her hands are always somewhere on you. i don’t know why, but i feel like she’s one of those people that need to have a part of her body touching someone else’s while she’s sleeping… like her leg wrapped around her partner’s or something like that. she’s always cold and that's her way of staying warm… also uses it as an extra layer of security. wants to make sure you’re still there. <3

but when she’s horny… attached at the hip. grabs at your clothes, nuzzles her face in your shoulder and chest, pinches your legs. a literal pinchy-bug… she’ll be staring with your hand in her lap, hers enclosed around your wrist so you don’t pull away (and when you try to, her hold tightens). 

then she’ll start just mindlessly playing with your fingers. you’re used to her pattern at that point: she counts them over and over again in her head, massages them because they’re stiff… lightly kisses your knuckles. nothing crazy… just feather-like brushes of her lips with your thumb pinched between hers and index. her eyes bat in your direction when her lips smack on your skin. sadly, you never catch the beginning signs that she needs something urgently; she has to force herself not to bite your palm… (she’s a hand admirer… i could write a whole novel on that). it’s only when you feel a light nibble on your middle finger that your forearm flexes… so she does it again. it’s so soft, you’d barely catch it if you didn’t know your fucking girlfriend. 

pops the tip of it between her lips with the lightest suction, and your stomach flips. you attempt to mask the hitch in your breath, but you can’t, and she has the audacity to laugh… all while slowly glazing the tip in saliva before doing that to all your fingers (gives your pinky some extra lovin’). time blurs after that. next thing you know, she’s on her back with three of your fingers hitting the back of her tongue and slobber dripping down to her cheeks. you lay beside her while your other hand gets used like a stress toy; her hands just randomly clench around yours whenever she gags because she’s cute like that. 

when you finally get the hint and she’s done choking on your fingers, you whip it out (of the top drawer). she loves when you straddle her chest and fuck her throat like that. you never notice since you’re facing the opposite direction most times, but whenever you slide a tad too deep, her toes curl in delight. you’re always there to encourage the mess she's making. always call her a sweetheart when she gags on you; it gets her gears going! sometimes she wants her esophagus bruised. sometimes she wants you to scratch her scalp while she sucks the tip. sometimes she just wants to fucking play with it like a stick shift. 

if you own a strap, fuck your partner's throat! save a life and whatnot...

[xxoxobree]

Mean Sometimes

Miles G x Black!Fem!Reader

Summary: Miles can be mean sometimes, even if he doesn’t mean harm.

WARNINGS: Cuss words cause 🤷🏽‍♀️

A/n: This is for my black girlies 🤣 y’all are definitely gonna relate to this , Also that is a real picture of Miles G that I took we in E42 chillin 🫢.

Miles was famous all over school for his blunt and straightforward attitude. He had a rep for never beating around the bush and always blurting out whatever came to mind, no matter how crazy it sounded.

His lack of filter had landed him in hot water a few times, but he remained himself , because he “can handle it if anyone got a problem”. Despite his bluntness, when it came to you, his "princesa," he would soften his edges.

Picture day was tomorrow ,and then came the most soul-crushing message from your hairstylist.

"Hey there, hun," she began, delivering the blow. She was canceling. Your heart sank as you absorbed the words on the screen.

"Please, please don't cancel," you silently pleaded, desperately typing out your response. But deep down, you knew it was pointless . And just as you feared, the it happened.

"I'm truly sorry, but we have to cancel and find another time to reschedule," her message read.

"No no no!" You said out loud, throwing your head back in frustration. You rested your phone down, afraid that your anger might make you throw it across the room.

"Oh my fucking gosh!" Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You got up and made your way to sit in front of your vanity.

You released your hair from the ponytail it was in, grabbed your comb, blowdryer, and a flat iron, and got to work. You had to make something work.

As you sat in front of the mirror, you began the process. 15 minutes went by, but it was not going well. You burned yourself several times with the flat iron, causing more frustration and anxiety to bubble within you, but you refused to give up.

Your hair was frizzy and unruly, but in your eyes, it was looking pretty good.

Miles, had decided to stop by after realizing you hadn't been responding to any of his messages or calls. Concern etched across his face, he knocked on your bedroom door before stepping inside.

"Miles? Why are you here?" you asked, your voice laced with annoyance as you continued to fix your hair, leaning against the vanity. The frustration in your eyes was hard to miss, and he knew all too well what it meant. Your attitude had been activated.

With a small sigh, Miles approached you,leaning on the vanity. "I was worried about you," he said. matching your attitude "You weren't answering any of my messages or calls. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Rolling your eyes, you paused your hair-fixing efforts and looked at him, your frown deepening. "Miles, I'm trying to fix my hair.” you snapped.

"He gave your hair a look, furrowing his eyebrows. “Yo shit look like you got electrocuted.”

His words stung, and you couldn't hide the disappointment in your eyes. "Why'd you say it like that?" you whined, feeling a lump forming in your throat.

"I'm just saying, mama," he responded casually, not fully understanding the impact of his words.

"Well, does it look bad?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"It does... yeah," Miles admitted, unaware that you were at your wits end.

"Oh, my fucking gadddddd..." The words slipped out as you threw your brush across the room in frustration. Tears welled up in your eyes, and your face flushed with anger and hurt. "You're so fucking mean sometimes, Miles," you shouted, flopping onto your bed and curling up, facing away from him.

Miles could hear your sniffles from across the room, guilt shot through his body. He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the vanity, his feet carrying him towards the bed where you sat, shoulders slumped.

"Ma!" he called out, hoping for a response but you stayed silent. "Baby, I'm sorry, okay?" he pleaded.

"You can take your sorry and get the fuck out," you whispered , your voice dripping with hurt and frustration.

Miles sighed again "Baby, I didn't mean that. You know how I am,"

"How you are is rude as fuck," you shot back, the pain still in your tone.

Miles climbed into the bed beside you, his body pressing against yours. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his voice muffled by the closeness. "I'm sorry, princessa," he murmured, the warmth of his breath causing a shiver to run down your spine. "How about I help you fix your hair?…….you smell sooo good.”

"Shut up, stupid," you whispered, a smile spreading at the corners of your lips. "And move so you can help me."

Copyright © 2023 Breeandhermunches. All rights reserved.

[theemporium]

ooh remus x bestfriend!reader, obvi they're in love but remus goes on a date with someone else and shit's just angsty. i love angst haha. but a happy ending would be nice

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

Remus Lupin knew he fucked up.

There were so many signs that should have pointed out that very fact to him earlier but he had failed to let them really sink in, and now he was sitting across from a girl he really didn’t care about with an immense amount of guilt and buzzed energy as his brain and body and soul screamed at him for being so fucking stupid. 

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe because a part of him wanted to go out with the witch who had been ogling him across the library, maybe because Sirius kept teasing him that he was in love with you and he wanted to prove his friend wrong. Whatever reason it was, it hadn’t stopped him from walking over, flashing the witch a smile and chatting away to her until a date had been set. 

The first bell that should have rang in his head that this was all wrong was when he told you he had a date on Saturday and the way your face fell for a split second was enough to make his stomach twist in discomfort. That gut-punching feeling that didn’t disappear when you quickly smiled at him and told him that you couldn’t wait to hear about his date. 

The next bell should have rang when he watched the witch approach him in the courtyard where they agreed to meet before their walk to Hogsmeade, and his first thought was that you would have never done your hair in the frevolent manner she had done so. But still, Remus kept pushing his feelings away and continued on with the date.

Now he was sitting beside her in a cramped booth in The Three Broomsticks, his thigh pressed against her thigh and his shoulder pressed against her shoulder and it was wrong. It was so very wrong and he couldn’t brush away the feeling no matter how hard he tried. He kept trying to tell himself that he was being dramatic, that Sirius had just gotten in his head and now he was overthinking everything. 

But then she tried to kiss him and her lips had barely brushed his before Remus was scrambling away from the booth, spluttering out some half-assed apology mixed with an excuse before he bolted out of the establishment before he could even really feel guilty for the scene he created and the embarrassment he may have let the witch feel. 

He couldn’t let himself feel anything except the unexplainable feeling to be far away from everyone else but you. 

It had been a blur of emotions and twisted thoughts as he made his way back to Hogwarts, the chill biting into his cheeks and the tip of his nose but he didn’t care. He practically ran through the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, bursting through the painting after he rambled out the password and fell short when he found himself face to face with a displeased looking Lily Evans. 

He tried to step around her but she quickly stepped in his way. He tried again but Lily put herself in his path once again.

“Lily, whatever this is—”

“She cares about you, Remus,” Lily stated simply. 

Remus fell short. “What?”

“She’s your best friend and she cares about you and your happiness,” Lily continued. “And it’s that same reason that she will keep her mouth shut because she cares about you being happy more than anything else, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her.”

His face fell a little when he realised what she was talking about. “Lily, I–”

“Don’t make it worse for her,” she said in a softer voice, the affection the redhead had grown for you over the years really shining through her words. You had become the sister she lost.

“I want to make it right,” Remus said in a serious voice.

Her brows furrowed. “What are—”

“I can’t do this right now,” he muttered before moving past the redhead with an apology, his long legs making it easy to take the steps up to the girls’ dormitories three steps at a time before he found himself standing outside your room. His fist thumped against the door as he impatiently waited for you to open.

No response.

He knocked again.

No response.

He knocked for a third time and he picked up the sound of shuffling from the other side of the door before he heard footsteps. And then the door swung open. 

“Lily, I already said—” you paused, sniffling a little. “Remus?”

“Oh love,” his whispered response was the only thing that was able to leave his lips when he noticed your red rimmed eyes. You had been crying. You had been crying because of him. Because he was stupid and didn’t realise what was right in front of him this whole time.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, a frown forming on your lips. “Shouldn’t you be on your date?”

“I left,” he said simply.

Your frown deepened. “You left?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You seemed excited,” you said, clearing your throat a little.

“Because I realised something,” Remus told you.

“What?”

“That I was on a date with the wrong girl,” he said as he took a step towards you, his large hands cupping your face. “That I was an idiot for not realising that what I really wanted was right in front of me. That the girl I wanted was my best friend.”

Your eyes widened. “Remus—”

“You’re the one I want, baby,” he whispered, his thumbs swiping your cheeks. “Just you, nobody else.”

Your hands fisted the material of his knitted sweater as you pulled him down, your lips meeting in a messy but passionate kiss. His hands squished your cheeks before they dropped to cup your neck, keeping you in place as he slowly began to guide you back into your room.

“Let me make it up to you for being an idiot?” he murmured against your lips.

He delighted in the way your smile felt against his. 

“Give it your best shot, Lupin.”

.

[littleredwing89]

FAMOUS - PART ONE

Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death threats.

A/N: So part one is finally here!!! Woohoo!!! Enjoy all. More to come soon xoxo much love xoxo @offendedfishnoises thanks again for all of your help with this - all the love xoxo

————

DEATH SHALL FIND YOU

————

The Gotham Sirens.

You never imagined that this would happen to you. Not in a million years. The group had taken off almost instantly and you’d become world famous. You stared up at the stage, the neon blue of your band's name glowing. Several technicians ran past you and smiled, altering the mic stands and taping down the wires so no one would fall. You loved the hustle and bustle just before the performance. Even standing on that stage in front of millions of people, nothing made your soul buzz like the beginning set up of a show.

You, Selina, Ivy and Harley had met at Gotham University majoring in Dance and Music. At first it had been nothing more than just a class assignment. Create a song. But Harley uploaded it onto Instagram and it blew up the internet. The next thing you knew, Mr Roman Sionis - headhunter for Dent Sounds Record Label - himself had arranged a meeting with the four of you.

And well, as they say, the rest was history. That was over 3 years ago now. It had been a complete blur. You were still catching up. You were no longer having to scrimp and save for cash. No. Now, now you had everything. Everything you’d ever dreamed of. Everything but your privacy. Especially after the meeting this morning with Roman.

——

“You’re not being serious are you?”.

You looked into the mirror whilst the make up artist finished off your eyelashes. Your manager, Roman, stood behind you with his arms crossed. A stern look stitched onto his face.

“Of course I am”, he huffed and his stare burned into you, “You’ve received another death threat and someone tried to break into your condo last month. You need more security. Something more personal”.

You rolled your eyes and the make up artist scolded you by smacking her brush on your wrist. You grinned cheekily at her before resting back in your chair, putting on your sickliest, sweetest voice, “Romy…”.

Your little nickname for him. It worked every time. He’d never allow anyone else to call him that. Just you.

“No”, he growled, “This is my final decision. You’re getting a personal bodyguard. I don’t want to find you chopped into tiny pieces”.

“How come Ivy doesn’t have to have one? Or Selina...even Harley doesn’t! So why me?”.

You didn’t need a bodyguard. You knew the second you got one, you would be kissing your freedom goodbye. They’d be with you 24/7. Your apartment would be shared. You wouldn’t even be able to sneak off to McDonalds for a McFlurry at 3am without having to confirm it with them. Or even worse, have them go with you.

“They haven’t had any psychotic stalkers”, Roman rested against the wall, sighing deeply, “yet”.

You scowled and refused to meet his eyes in the mirror. This was a complete over reaction.

“Look, I know you’re not happy but this goes way over my head. Mr Dent, the CEO—insisted. And to be honest Y/N, I think it’s a good idea. You girls are only getting more popular and that means more weirdos will crawl out of the woodwork”.

“Romy…”, you tried once more, turning to him and fluttering your dark, thick lashes at him, “Can’t you talk to Mr Dent?”.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, the muscles in his forearms contracting. You noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and silently wondered when he last got a good night's sleep.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, “But I agree with Harv on this one, I’ve already been in touch with a firm. They’re highly recommended…you’ll meet them tomorrow”.

He turned quickly and strode out of the changing room as his phone rang, ending the conversation abruptly. You could hear his booming voice bouncing down the corridor and you glared at yourself in the mirror.

Fucking perfect.

————

Dumping a wad of paperwork down onto the desk, Jason sighed and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew high profile clientele came with difficulty but the stack of paperwork Sionis had sent him was nothing short of ridiculous. They even wanted to know where he’d bought his new leather jacket from last month.

“Alright?”, Roy sauntered over with his own coffee cup shuffling some of the papers. He was awfully chipper this early in the morning. Jason hummed in response and grabbed a pen from the side beginning to fill in the required forms.

He’d started this business with Roy a few years ago. Dropping out of university was tough but it wasn’t for him. Jason remembered worrying about telling Bruce. What his family would think of him but they showed him nothing but support. Unconditional love. They’d both managed, with countless hours, to build ‘Outlaws Security’, into the most successful security firm in Gotham.

Roy’s eyebrows lifted upon seeing a photo of the new client, “Isn’t that the chick you had on your wall at uni?”.

“What? No!”, Jason bristled and shoved the photo of you back under the documents. He inwardly cursed. Fucking Roy.

“So, you're saying that if I look inside your office locker, I won't find a poster of her?”.

Jason heard the cocky smirk on Roy’s face and groaned in irritation running a hand over the front of his face, “Touch my locker and I’ll break your legs”.

Roy cackled loudly and sat on the edge of Jason’s desk, “Ok so you do still have it. Better not let her find it”.

“You’re a real jackass you know”.

“So I’ve heard...maybe she’ll sign it for you if you ask nicely”, Roy continued to mock Jason, making kissy faces at him.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you”, Jason scowled and turned his chair around pretending to look for some files in the cabinet behind him. Hoping Roy would get the hint and leave him alone.

“This must be like your dream job come true, pretty boy—better not screw it up”.

Jason sighed deeply and threw his head back in exasperation, “I need a new best friend”.

Roy gasped dramatically and held a hand over his heart, “What?! You love me and you know it!”.

“Whoever told you that was lying”.

————

[crybaby-bkg]

idea that I can’t get out of my head is having some kind of contest with Bakugou and you bet with each other. it’s over something trivial, something simple, but he’s so goddamn competitive and you already know you’ll win, so you take him up on the offer.

the offer being—he can’t tell you no for an entire 24 hours. it’s a system either one of you could abuse, but you trust the other not to.

and he loses, quite to his shock, and begrudgingly accepts the consequences of the bet. he does everything you ask him to, including food cooked and readied for you, carrying you across the room so you don’t have to walk, stupid shit that you can see tick on his nerves. but as the day goes on, you start getting bolder and bolder, until you find yourself biting off more than you could chew.

“Eat me out until I cum.” You tell him in a rush of breath, pretty eyes blinking wide when he whips his head around to look at you. But his own shocked expression melts into a cocky one, as he tilts his head at you and leans down until his nose brushes against yours.

“Sweetheart, you’re asking for a regular Tuesday night.” He doesn’t say much else, barely lets you get a word out as he’s dropping to his knees and spreading your legs for you. You’re not sure why you’re so shocked that he did it without compliant, but you didn’t think he’d be so enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. Stroking his own cock through his pants as he slots his mouth over you, lapping at you, moaning whenever you push his head and command that he does it better.

And when you cum, after the nth time, does he finally let up when you tell him to. But you’re not done with him yet, no. Instead, you pull him back by his hair, look at his wet mouth and low eyes, drift down to his cum stained shorts and grin at him.

“Fuck me like you hate me.” You thought he moved fast when he was going to eat you out, but he’s damn near a blur at this request. Your clothes go flying, and you’re filled to the brim in what feels like seconds. As he holds you close and fucks you with a glint in his eye that makes your knees tremble, you pull him in by his nape, whisper,

“Kiss me.” And he grins at you, big and wide, slamming his hips until he’s buried to the hilt. It makes you whine, eyes fluttering shut as Bakugou speaks against your mouth,

“You don’t even have to ask, baby.” He kisses you hard enough to take your breath away, and you wonder why you’ve never betted him before.

[badyan]

Thought onslaught

"I just!…don’t know…"

"Why are you even questioning this?" his voice was cold and unaffected, but you know he doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you. It’s just his usual state. You still feel like you’re interrupting him though…

"It is your birthday. You humans love your celebrations…sometimes even too much," he adds in a lower tone, scrolling for something in his holopad. "So why should no one care this time?"

You go quiet. The thought about you being the most annoying mopping goof floods your mind again. Second day straight. You know too well he has no intention to sound so cold. But two days with these anxious thoughts boiling up within your head…You don’t even have any strength left to pour him your whole heart out. Especially when he’s like this, all in accordance with his role. Right…You should not try to get in touch with him when he’s working. It’s not about personal, you’ve discussed it already — it’s just like his mind switches into the commander mode. And you’ve lost him till the dead of the night.

"Should’ve known better…" you think to yourself, standing up and leaving him alone. Maybe you’re just too tired. Exhausted, actually. Sleep would be great — especially the part when you can have your mind turned off.

You fall flat, huge pillow embracing your face, soft cool darkness soothing your heated watery eyes. You need to take a time-out of this endless thought onslaught. And you can. But right before your mind completely blurs to sleep, you hear him calling you from the other room.

"Where are you?"

"I’ll nap…a bit…" you only mumble in the dark, voice so small in this yearning silence. You know he heard you. You simply try to brush off new wave of trembling overthoughts and force your mind blank, letting the slumber consume you. You don’t want to mull it all over anymore.

The last thing that came to your mind was Ram as you hear some distant clicking of his vents opening in a sigh. Maybe it would have been much easier if you were an omnic like him, able to switch your dumb fucking anxious head off…That would be awesome, even for a bit…

You dissolve into the sweet oblivion of your dreams, now blank, peaceful. Perfect void for your disheartened heart to hide…

…that was until you got scared awake by the sudden noise of fire alarm. Annoying loud beeping was coming from the kitchen, where you immedeately rushed, almost falling because your socks slipped on the smooth floor tiles. You even felt your spine crack from how awkwardly you moved, catching your balance back — but the sight in front of you was worthy of that.

You arrived at the same moment his hand teared the fire alarm detector off the ceiling, crushing it to crunch straight away just to shut the damn thing. He moves frantically, aggressively even, as if this poor alarm could pose a danger to him and all his beloved ones.

Ramattra stands beside the stove awkwardly, oddly slouching and staring at you back silently. The whole scene was so chaotic and so sudden that it makes you both just freeze on the spot, taking a second to comprehend the what-tha-fuck moment. You blink sleepily, taking in the way he stands strangely in the middle of house equipment’s murder scene. He was never jealous of other machines that surround you daily…

Although his pose deceives him badly. Yes, of course it’s usual for him to lower his head like this indoors since he is too large for your cute little kitchen ( or better say, your cute litte kitchen is too small for his full-height posture ) — but right now you sense something off in the way he clumsily stand there, gripping the edge of the countertop, watching you intently with a hint of…guilt?

A deer in the headlights, a little boy who goofed around too much and is now trying to escape getting grounded, quickly eliminating all the evidence of his goofball deeds — that’s what you see in the kitchen instead of your lovely ravager boy. This confounded pose and the way he don’t know where to look to escape your shoked gaze, letting the awfully long foolish pause give him away even more…it’s so obvious that he’s hiding something from you, it makes him sick with embarrassment.

And the more he tries to cover it up, the more it makes your lips curl into a silly smirk. You already know what’s going on — but the view…is charming.

"What?…" was all you can mutter carefully, tone already mischievous.

"Nothing." even his own vocaliser deceives him, pure confusion is evident in his tone. He can only thank the Iris that his faceplate can’t blush, otherwise he would be all red at the moment.

"Why?" your cheeks start to hurt from how big of a smile you have as you point at the poor fire alarm debris in his fist.

"It…it could have waked you up. It did." he objects, though knowing that his arguments sound lame.

"It was doing its job!" you chuckle "It’s the least it could do since big boy commander can’t deal with some mundane human cooking…" you taunt and he lowers his head in shame. He had no time to get rid of the smell of burned food before you rushed over…

You can’t resist this adorable goof. Giggling heartedly, you gesture him to move out of the way. He hesitated for a moment, before he slowly steps to the side, letting you to the stove. There it is — a whole pan of veggies and burned down tomato sause, seasoned with your favourite herbs. All burned, too. You hear his back vents clicking open as he watches you examining the remains of what meant to be your own specialty pasta…

But oh, how his circuitry melts when he’s met with your smile, pure joy shining in your sleepy eyes despite the meal being totally ruined. He freezes, afraid to scare off the moment, finding himself forgetting how to pronounce words. Instead he just stares at you, hoping you’ll read straight from his eyes all the things his soul speaks but his vocaliser can’t yet. At the back of his mind, he sometimes wishes he could have the same deep, gorgeous eyes, just like you, as a human, have…Eyes that can talk louder than any voice or gesture or body language could muster. That would be wonderful, just a bit of this charm any human was born with…

"You sweetheart…" you murmur, gently leaning on him, hugging, snuggling, feeling how his hands wrap around your whole body in his big bear’s embrace, incredibly soft and careful for a creature of steel…your head cradled against his chest and he is nuzzling your hair from up above, planting a silent omnicode kiss.

"You remembered my pasta…"

"Of course I have…I wanted to make you your favourite"

"You remembered my comfort food recipe…to make it for me…"

"… and I burnt the whole meal."

"You! remembered!! and wanted to make!!! for me!!!! and almost cooked!!!!!" you laugh and it fills him with the warmth he has never known.

Perhaps, this is what home feels like…

"So…you’re not mad? Even though I totally screwed it up?"

"Not at all, hun. But I would if we won’t cook it together now." your mischievous smirk is making him thank the Iris again for not being able to blush.

He is enamoured.

~~~~~~~

@statuetochka, @t3chborb silly Rama food is ready!!! fluff flavoured, because my birthday is coming next wednesday, anxiety is getting me and Rama is my babe therapy

[bullet-prooflove]

I’m drunk and I don’t wanna go home

Tagging: @kmc1989 @soultrysworld @Delicateflorencia @lazyquotesshadowart @thepurplebisexual 

The Fire Still Burns - The fire has never really gone out between you and Jimmy.

Jimmy doesn’t intent to get drunk. It’s just that he’s having such a good time that he loses track of how much wine you’ve both have been drinking. It isn’t until they start turning off the lights in the restaurant that he realises it’s late, very late.

You’re still laughing when you step into the cool nighttime air. He’s forgotten how beautiful you look when you smile, how it makes his heart thud a little harder in his chest, how his whole world lights up.

“I’m not ready for this to end just yet.” You say and he can’t help but grin because he isn’t either.

You end up at a karaoke bar around the corner, singing your hearts out to Bryan Adams, Cyndi Lauper and Bon Jovi. You’re a terrible singer but then again so is he and somehow it works.

The sun is just starting to rise when the two of you end up back out on the street. You’re both still drunk, falling into one another. He’s always liked the way you fit together, he’d thought you were his missing puzzle piece back in Med School. He still thinks that might be true now. He wonders what it might be like to kiss you, if you’d still taste the same on his lips.

When he puts you in a cab, something in his chest just aches and he remembers this feeling from almost two decades ago, when he let you walk out of his life to take the fellowship across the country.

“Let’s not leave it five years before we see each other again.” He finds himself saying as he holds open the door for you.

“You have my number.” You remind him as your lips brush across his cheek. “And you know where to find me.”

The scent of your perfume still clings to his skin when he gets home, it’s something dark, a little sensual. Amber and jasmine, he thinks. It reminds him of nights tangled up in your sheets, mouth covering yours, drinking down your pleasure as you’d come undone underneath him. He touches himself to that memory, stroking slowly, savouring the sensation. When he comes he spills his release all over his fist, the white streaks painting his stomach.

It's a couple of hours later that he wakes up naked and hungover his phone still in his hand. He groans at the pounding in his head, his vision is blurred and it him a minute to locate his glasses.

It’s only then that he sees the text message he sent, his cheeks colour as he reads it back.

I’ve just come all over myself thinking about the things we used to do.

It’s your message back that gets him hard again. It’s a two minute video entitled ‘Thinking of you’.

The camera is angled down towards your underwear. You’re clad in simple black cotton panties with a damp patch growing across the front as your fingertips trace light circles over your clit. They get faster as your breath hitches, you start to moan a little, your hips arching and Jimmy’s hands already drifting back under the sheets, seeking out his hardening cock.

You say his name at the height of climax, amidst the eruption of expletives that leave your mouth. He’s forgotten about that, that you can’t have an orgasm without saying the word fuck.

You’re going to make me come all over again, he texts back before he starts to watch the video again. It’s a few seconds later that you respond with a request.

Show me.

Love Jimmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[comp7ex]

ALL FOR ME

summary: in which she needs this one particular girl all to herself again.

paige bueckers x blackfemale!oc

warnings: cursing, a moderate amount of angst and a lil teasing (like super minuscule)

jori hated the club. absolutely despised it. the air was sticky and humid even as the fans blew around the building. her high heels were making her feet ache and the material of her mini dress was extremely itchy. not to mention, she was tipsy as hell as she sat at the crowded bar. despite these factors, her eyes stayed locked on the other side of the room where her once situationship sat.

paige bueckers. the loved and famed uconn guard.

the two met during their freshman year at uconn as jori was an assistant to the student broadcasting team. they became friends fast and found they had a lot in common. the friendship was smooth sailing until late into their junior year, paige began to blur lines that couldn’t be undone, sending the two into a complicated relationship. although jori didn’t mind at first, she loved the attention and affection that paige provided her with. she thought she was in love with paige. that was until the guard started being inconsistent, which came with the famous line of “we’re not together so it dont know why you’re tripping.”

so after almost a year of back and forth, she ended it with paige 2 months ago, leaving her with a long paragraph and no access to the girl whatsover, until today.

jori watched the scene that unfolded in front of her. a random brunette was slung over paige’s lap, her hand wrapped around the girls waist and a drink in the other hand what she could only assume was a dirty shirley temple, laughing with other people in the section. jori could only roll her eyes in anger.

she didn’t understand how paige could sit up with someone else while all jori could think about was her. in the midst of her angry self monologue, someone next to her spilled their drink all down the front of her dress, “what the fuck!!!” she exclaimed. the person barely giving her a second glance. jori hastily got off the barstool, making her way to the bathroom as she tried brush the excess liquid off of her dress but not before making eye contact with the person she had been watching all night. shit.

paige couldn’t believe her eyes. she had to be dreaming right?

“yo p, was that jori?” a friend asked her, who had also seen the girl. paige couldn’t even speak. her eyes couldn’t leave the girl as she made her way through the crowd.

jori saunders. the one girl who almost made paige change her ways.

paige is what most people would call a player. she gets around and doesn’t feel guilty about it. she calls it keeping her options open and that was how she’d always been before the dynamic between her and jori changed.

the girl found herself wanting to be with jori only. she cared about her. the guard craved jori which scared her tremendously because she had never felt that way about someone. her main focus was basketball and that was it until that night her lips touched jori’s. from then on, she was hooked. nonetheless, paige was stuck in her ways and used the girls jealousy and possessiveness as a ploy to get distance between the two which ultimately ended in no contact. paige couldn’t have regretted a decision more in this moment.

feeling slight liquid courage, the girl brushed the brunette aside, setting her drink on the nearby table. “i’ll be back, i’m finna use the bathroom.” she announced to her friends before quickly making a beeline to the bathroom where she could only hope jori was at.

jori stood over the sink, wiping down her red dress with the flimsy paper towel, hoping maybe that it wouldn’t leave a stain the dress she just bought. she could feel a headache coming on and knew it was time to go home. the hinges of the bathroom door squeaked and jori didn’t bother to turn around, thinking that somebody just cracked the seal and had to clear their bladder. what she wasn’t expecting was to hear the voice of the blonde. “jori.” paige said softly, taking cautious steps towards the girl.

“jori.” paige said again, this time less than an arms reach close to her. the girl turned around and for the first time tonight, the two could see each other clearly. paige’s 6’0 frame towered over jori’s 5’4 heeled stature. the taller girls eyes shamelessly raked over her body, taking in all the features that she so dearly missed. jori did the same, her stomach whirling with butterflies as she caught paige’s bright blues locked on her lips. “you should go back out there with your girlfriend, there’s nothing left for you in here.” jori stated boldly, taking paige aback slightly. “she’s not my girlfriend jo, i don’t even like her.” the shorter girl scoffed.

“you have to like something about her, that’s the only reason you keep bitches around anyway, is when they can give you something.” paige just shook her head, not phased by jori’s insults. she knew that jori had a mouth on her when she was angry and especially if she was tipsy.

“she’s cute! and you’re showing her off in public, do you think she looks better than me? what does she have on me paige?” jori questioned, tilting her head.

“you know she doesn’t jori, she doesn’t have shit on you stop.”

“then what is it? does she satisfy you like i did, hm?” jori’s mouth was moving quicker than her brain could think, her manicured hand, grabbing paige’s face, forcing the girl to look at her once again. her other hand slid down the front of the guards exposed boxer, running her fingers across the band, making paige slightly shudder.

“i guess not.” jori pushed the girls face away as she attempted to move past the girl after her statement but paige blocked her every move. “you can say and do all the shit you want, i don’t care. nobody is leaving until we talk.” the uconn guard said sternly, making jori roll her eyes again.

“there’s not shit to talk about, you didn’t care then and you don’t care now, you already got a new bitch and it’s only been two months!.”

“dude don’t start with that shit, i do care! what are you even talking about?” paige exasperated.

“too bad you couldn’t when it really counted.” jori sassed back. “i tried talking to you for months and i watched you flirt and touch other girls and crawl back to me in the dead of night.”

“like do you know how that made me feel? it made me feel like shit! like i wasn’t enough for you even though i was giving you all i had!”

“all i wanted you to was tell me i was the only one and really mean it and you never could, what is there for us to talk about?” paige ran her hand over her face in frustration.

“if you would let me talk, i’m trying to tell you that there’s never been another you jori! nobody has ever made me feel the way you do.”

“i’ll admit, i was scared and i didn’t treat you in the way that you deserve but ill spend however long it takes to fix it. jori i love you and i have for a long time. i wasn’t mature enough to tell you then but fuck-“ the shorter girl attempted to move past her again but paige blocked her in again.

“please… just listen to me.” the taller girl pleaded, her voice wavering.

“let me prove that im worthy of you, that you’re all i see and have ever seen, please. “ the desperation in paige’s voice made the room thick and jori felt trapped under her gaze as the girl searched her eyes for any reciprocation.

after what felt like hours of silence, jori reached up and tucked the stray hairs behind paige’s ear and brushing off the collar of her shirt. “take me home.”

hi, this is my first post here on tumblr, i’m more of a wattpad writer but i just wanted to share some pieces on here!!! i kinda hate this but i was craving some angst, so enjoy!