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eilidh-eternal · 5 months

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Good morning 🥰 Wolf-shifter!Price is a bad, bad man 🤭 | Part 1 | Masterlist |

18+ MDNI | This is a DARK FIC | cw: blood, drowning, predator and prey dynamics

Little fawn… You shouldn’t be out on that ice.

John lingers at the edge of the forest, halts his routine surveillance at the fringes of his territory, and watches as you fall, can hear the ice shudder and give way, can smell the panic and fear as you sink beneath the frozen surface.

Well. A frozen meal is better than no meal at all.

He peels back layers of winter garb as he approaches the waters edge, shucking them into the snow before he makes the plunge himself.

You must have tried to fight it, the dead weight of your heavy clothing. Still so close to the surface when he reaches you. With kicking feet he takes you under the arms and hauls you back up, pushes you up onto the ice before hauling himself out behind you, and carries you off the treacherous lake. Sharp metal prods at his thigh with each step that jostles your skate-clad feet, and a growl of contempt rumbles in his chest when he feels the blade dig into his skin, thin rivulets of warm blood mixing with the water that drips from his body. They’re the first thing he removes from you, followed by the useless coat full of lake water and the monstrosity of a sweater beneath it.

Your left side blooms a tantalizing red, droplets staining the snow beneath you like Rorschach ink bleeds onto paper, and the sweet, metallic scent floods his senses. Calls to baser instincts. But then you begin to cough and hack, water gurgling between your darkened lips, and he can hear the faint thump of the cordiform muscle in your chest beating back to life. Pulsing with more of that sweet essence.

Not so frozen after all. Still time for a little fun.

He hopes you wake soon, that he won’t have to slink along in the shadows for hours before your scent paints the forest and leads him to you. Hopes that when you wake the panic and fear will smell just as decadent mingled with the adrenaline. Oh, how he’d like to linger here and watch that panic bloom on your pretty little face. Watch the confusion turn to shock, watch the whites of your eyes swallow the irises as you realize who—what—looms over you.

But he can’t. You won’t last out in this cold in your sopping clothes, and he won’t last in this form without his. So he leaves you with his coat draped over your body, the rest of his clothes nearby in the snow, and prowls into the sanctuary of pine and aspens that shield his fur from the wind blasted clearing you lie in.

He prowls, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long. And you’re so, so smart, little fawn. So smart to make use of the clothing he’s left for you. So very clever to follow his footprints in the snow. To wrap your arms around your middle and keep your hands balled inside the oversized sleeves of his coat.

And your scent… Oh, he had not been expecting that. The way your sweetness has tangled itself with his own scent. The way the lingering musk from his clothes wraps around your delicate, honeyed sillage. Warm and syrupy, like the blood that splatters in the snow and paints a path through the trees.

So focused are you on pushing forward, on moving and staying warm, that you do not notice the shadow at your back when you trudge into their refuge, sighing long and heavy at the absence of the punishing wind nipping at your exposed skin. You huff and puff as you fight the deep drifts, already at a disadvantage and clumsy in shoes far too big for you, his footsteps clearing the way not making much if a difference in your exhausted, wounded state.. You can hardly walk, let alone run, and so he bides his time. Watches from a distance, from the cover of pine boughs heavy and drooping with snow, from the shadows cast by the rapidly setting sun.

The snow may glitter and glisten, might make pretty patterns on frosted leaves and look pillowy soft where it gathers in drifts at the bases of tree trunks, but it is deceptive and cruel under the light of the moon. And the dark brings forth a host of malevolent, savage creatures. Things like him.

He’s doing you a kindness, really, watching over you as you tromp through the snow. Herding you closer and closer to his den. And don’t you just look delicious, smell absolutely divine, when all that fear and panic comes rushing back when you reach the end of his tracks. You’re so lucky that it’s him who pulled you from that lake, who’s been tracking you through this forest, and not some other, overeager beast that lacks composure and control.

No, he’s going to savor you. Going to take his time wearing you down. Get your adrenaline pumping, nice and warm for him when he finally brings you to his den. Then, and only then, will he taste you. Slake the thirst gnawing away inside of him, hollowing out his insides with the need to touch and taste and devour the sweet scent he’s been following for hours.

The snarl that rips from his throat is a primal thing, more animal than man, as he tastes your desperation, the spike of adrenaline when you finally realize you’ve been followed. His growl echoes in the silence that follows, beckons you to turn around, to let him see the fear as it unfolds across your features.

Let me see you, little one. Look at my teeth and claws and show me those pretty doe-eyes.

And god are you a fucking sight when you do, eyes wide with terror and shaking like a newborn on trembling legs. He knows you don’t shiver because of the cold, knows the decadent scent of dread and horror when it hits him, knows the instant you get that sinking feeling in your stomach when your eyes meet his and instead of doing what you should do, make yourself seem bigger, louder, you deflate. You curl in on yourself and don’t make a sound, hardly even breathe, until he pads forward, and you mirror his movement.

He steps forward, you step back. He steps to the left and you’re inching to the right. So easy for him, going exactly where he wants you to, doesn’t even have to snarl to get you to move in the right direction.

What a precious little thing you are, and you have no idea what’s in store for you.

He wouldn’t say it’s a game of cat and mouse, you haven’t even taken your eyes off of him, refuse to turn your back to him. So he keeps edging closer, hedging your little bubble of ‘safety’ you’ve managed to maintain. But then you go the wrong way, stumble over a fallen tree buried beneath the snow and it sets you off course, so he has no choice but to correct you.

Another low growl vibrates through him and it amuses him when your steps falter, when you freeze in place and he circles to come at you from the other direction.

This way, little one.

He moves further into your bubble and you start moving again, in the right direction this time. And though he can still taste the fear rolling off of you, there’s something else buried beneath it, tangy and acidic on his tongue. You don’t exactly back away from him anymore, either, just shuffle along with frequent glances over your shoulder to make sure he hasn’t gotten too close. Getting too comfortable. He’ll have to teach you how poor that decision is, to turn your back on him.

But not today. Today, you will go to his den, and he’ll be teaching you a different sort of lesson once he gets that nasty gouge on your side sorted. It’s beginning to bleed through his coat, deep red blooming against dull khaki, and you’re stumbling over everything and nothing. So he hedges closer, practically nipping at your heels to spur you on, get you moving just a bit quicker, until finally the scent of smoke and pine sap wafts through the air, and you make a relieved sound when the cabin comes into view.

You don’t need his guidance anymore. You know you need the warmth of that fire, the shelter the cabin offers. And you’re desperate enough not to care who it belongs to. Desperate enough that when no one answers your calls and you find the door unlocked, you go right in, go straight to the hearth and huddle as close as you can to the flames. You really shouldn’t, but you lay down, curl into the insulation of the coat and let your eyes droop closed, despite the risk of hypothermia that falling asleep poses. But you must be tired. You’d drowned. Nearly gutted yourself falling through the ice. Waded through wind and snow with a wolf at your back to get here.

Of course you’re tired. Tired enough that you don’t hear John come inside, don’t stir as he moves about and tends to himself and the fire. Only make a soft whining sound when he finally lifts you from the floor to settle you on the couch and peel away the blood-crusted layers that cling to your skin. He makes quick work of the wound, cleaning the dried blood from your skin and soaking up the fresh outpouring with gauze as he pushes the needle and thread through your skin, too exhausted to register the additional pain.

Fur lined blankets settle over you, cocooning you in warmth and shielding you from the lingering cold in the air. John watches you from his place on the adjacent armchair, feet kicked up on the old coffee table, and he hums knowingly when you burrow deeper into the blankets' warm refuge.

Rest now, little fawn. You’ll need all your strength when you wake.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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yourdarlingalina · 5 months

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is it new years yet? | jack hughes

synopsis: y/n's new years kiss is the last person she expected, her former fuck buddy pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader word count: 2.7k warnings: slightly steamy, heavy making out, mentions of sex, a bit angsty, not properly proofread is it new years yet? - sabrina carpenter

What's the best way to forget about your fuck buddy who broke things off with you a week before Christmas? Who you definitely don't have feelings for and who definitely didn't find out about said feelings by accident?

From a responsible person's point of view, it was the correct decision. I fell for someone who just wanted no strings attached sex. He doesn't want a relationship, and it is supposed to save me from being hurt even worse in the future. But I am not a responsible person. A responsible person wouldn't have been talking about their feelings with friends when they knew that the person they had feelings for was also in the same bar.

Which is how I ended up in my current situation. A glass of champagne in one hand while the other holds onto a random guy's shoulder as we sway and grind to the upbeat tempo blasting through the club's speakers. The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one, right? At least, that's what my friends were telling me as they convinced me to go out with them for New Year's Eve.

"Start the new year off with someone new."

And start the new year off with someone new I will. The guy in front of me is decent looking, he's no Jack but he'd do. His hands were at least doing all the right things, one gripping my hip to pull me closer as the other was pushing my hair out of the way of my neck so that he could leave sloppy open mouthed kisses to my skin. Hands roamed down my body as I brought the champagne flute closer to my lips, this night would require copious amounts of alcohol if I am to make it to midnight. He pawed his hands down from my hips to my ass, gripping and squeezing in ways that should be making me want to push my body harder against his. His mouth trailing from my neck down to cleavage, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh.

He was doing everything right to my body, but it just didn't feel right. I wanted it to be Jack who was brave enough to handle me this way in the middle of a crowded club, not ashamed to be seen with me, but it wasn't. He made it very clear that he only wanted me in private, with no one knowing that I was his on those nights and that he was mine, even if it was only for a short time. It was like he knew my body better than I did, knew what buttons to press to make me cry out his name. How he made me come undone again and again. The kisses that gave me full body shivers and touches that left my skin feeling like it was set alight.

I was not getting those feelings with the man attached to my body. He seemed like he'd be a great lover for a night, but not in the way I needed. Perhaps if I met him before everything, I could be happy with him but it felt like I had been ruined.

A party popper would end up becoming my hero of the night when one went off right next to my ear causing the glass in my hand to tumble down, splashing champagne on the man as it made its way down to shatter on the floor.

"Oh God! I am so sorry!" I profusely apologize as the man whose name I can't quite remember jumps away from me.

"It's alright, suppose I was gonna end up sticky tonight anyway. I'll be back." He shoots me a wink as he makes off in the direction of the bathrooms. I take the brief moment to escape to the bar, being careful to not slip on the alcohol or broken glass scattering the floor.

I push past the glitter and sweat coated bodies, pushing myself into a corner where I don't think my former dance partner will find me. One of the bartenders comes over to take my drink order not long after I get into my seat.

"What can I get for you?" The man asks quickly, obviously on the verge of losing it due to the new year's rush tonight.

"She'll have a vodka cranberry and I'll have a beer." A voice says from behind me, a voice I know extremely well. I didn't know he was going to be here tonight. Not a single person thought to mention that to me? The bartender makes a move to speak but the man behind me continues, "Brand doesn't matter, just whatever you have." The bartender just nods then scurries off to get our drinks.

I slowly turn on my stool to face him.

"Jack." I say, acknowledging him.

"y/n." He says back, sending shivers down my spine with just how he says my name. He moves closer, keeping me between the counter and his body. Leaning over his body almost touches mine, he keeps his eyes on me, his face getting closer, and for just a second I think he's about to kiss me, but his fingers wrap around the beer bottle that was placed on the counter and suddenly he's back where he was originally standing. "You seem to be having fun tonight."

"You've been watching me?" I blurt out before I could think. Instead, grabbing my drink, putting it to my mouth before I could say anything else.

"Hard not to when you're basically letting whoever that was fuck you in front of everyone." He bitterly spits out. He's jealous? He's not allowed to be jealous. He doesn't want me, I got that loud and clear.

"So? Why do you care?" His eyes snap to me. "I'm not yours, I never was." I break my eyes away from his, suddenly thinking about how interesting my drink looks. He smirks at my sudden movement, his fingers grip my chin and force me to look at him. His face is so close to mine again, I can feel his breath on my face, can smell the alcohol off his lips. He's intoxicating. I clench my thighs together at the small act. Even like this he still has so much power over me. I am undoubtedly his.

His eyes flick from my eyes down to my clenched thighs to my eyes again to the countdown clock behind me and finally back to my eyes. "Thirty minutes till midnight. Meet me on the balcony upstairs in fifteen?" He's asking but it comes out as more of a command.

"Why would I do that?" I push back. I can at least hold onto a little bit of my dignity during this. Can't I? Might be debatable.

"Because I made a mistake two weeks ago." He whispers against my lips. My eyes flutter shut, he's gone when I open them.

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

Fifteen minutes went by quicker than I would've liked for them to. I still haven't made up mind on if I should talk to him or not, but my body decided that I'd still go. I slowly made my way up, giving myself more time to collect my thoughts. I hadn't talked to him properly since that night.

It was a night out after a big win, Jack had invited me and some friends to go out with him and the team. Teasing remarks were thrown at me about how I look at Jack like I was in love. I never did hide my staring well. He had noticed too, how when he looked over at me, my eyes were already on him. Adoration was obvious in my eyes when they were on him. When I got quiet and didn't make any attempt to shoot down the accusations they all got loud. "You love Jack!" They shouted over and over. My cheeks flushed, embarrassment flooded up veins, I had to get away from it.

He heard. I turned to leave the group and he was behind me, eyes wide and jaw slack in shock. He was frozen, a deer in headlights. Me whispering his name snapped him out of his daze causing him to walk off in the opposite direction. I made the mistake of going after him.

"We said no strings attached." He said after the door slammed behind me, his back still facing me.

"I know." My words came out whispered, I was terrified of this. This was never meant to happen. Feelings were never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to find out that one of our few rules were broken.

"We can't continue like this." He finally turned and faced me. He showed no emotion, he was so goddamn hard to read. His blank facial expressions would be the bane of my existence.

"I know." I whispered again, the only words I could get out. I fucked up, by catching feelings, by continuing this when I knew I caught feelings. I tried to push them down and pretend that they didn't exist, but it just wasn't enough.

"I don't love you." I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears start to well up and not daring to let them have the chance of escaping. I knew how he felt, but hearing it was a completely different feeling.

"I know." I sobbed out. He was gone by the time I opened my eyes.

Here I was, yet again, going after him. I somehow made it to the top of the stairs and through the crowd of dancing bodies. There he was, standing on the balcony, leaning over the railing and looking out at the Hudson. I stood there for a good minute, just staring at him, debating on if it was even worth listening to him. Did he really make a mistake or was he just feeling guilty that he didn't reciprocate my feelings?

"What was the mistake?" I finally ask.

His head whips around so fast that I almost think that he's about to give himself whiplash. A small laugh like huff comes out as I walk further out onto the balcony.

"I almost thought you weren't gonna come." His voice is softer, careful, like he was actually scared of the thought that I wouldn't meet him. I look back at the countdown clock on the wall, ten minutes to midnight.

"I like to be fashionably late." He lets a small laugh escape at my comment. God, I love that sound.

"You always have." He turns away again, hands gripping the railing, knuckles turning white from the tension.

"You still haven't answered my question." I say, waiting for him to finally tell me what the mistake was. Was he regretting ending us or how he spoke to me?

"That night." He starts to say before cutting himself off, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Yes?" I nudge his leg with the tip of my heel. He looks at me, eyes scanning my face like he's trying to read my thoughts. Trying to get any idea of what I'm thinking.

"I lied to you." No. "I said I didn't love you." No. "I lied." No.

I should be wanting to hear this, but I don't. I never thought I'd be the type of person to run back to a man just because he gives me a pretty apology and I will not start now, especially when I know it's not true.

"You don't love me, you just miss the sex. Don't worry, you'll find someone else to suck your dick." I move to walk away before I feel this hand come up to grip my arm. He was not going to make this easy for me. All I want to do is go home and crawl under my blankets, forget that all of this even happened in the first place.

"Please, just hear me out." I turn my head to look at him and goddamn those eyes that make me want to melt. He's looking at me so sweetly, I've never seen him look at anyone like this.

"Make it quick." I brush off his hand and lean back towards the railing.

"Oh come on, you know I don't do quickies." He attempts to make a joke, a playful smile pulling on his lips. It quickly fades though as he get serious again. "I broke our rule before we even made it." My head snaps up at his words. What?

"I loved you before we slept together that first time." He can't be telling me the truth. No, our first night together was a drunken mess that was just meant to be a one night stand. The relationship that came after was just mutually beneficial, he didn't have to worry about someone running to the tabloids and I got someone who touched me in a way I didn't think was possible.

"Stop lying to me." I choke out. I don't need a pity confession from him, especially when I just want to leave him behind next year which is in, I quickly check the clock, three minutes.

"I'm not!" He counters back just as the words leave my mouth.

"If you loved me you wouldn't have reacted like that." My eyes are brimming with tears, this is not how I wanted my night to go. I just wanted to find a new guy to kiss at midnight to make me forget about Jack.

"I never thought you'd feel the same." How he could think that is astounding. I don't think he realizes just how magnetic he is, and not just because he's Jack Hughes, hockey star. No, he was much more than that. A good friend, a shoulder to lean on, someone that listens when you really need it, a respectful person who makes you feel like you're floating when his attention is on you. "I'm not good at expressing my emotions."

"Yeah, no shit!" I nearly scream at him. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"I want to start fresh next year." He admits, his eyes lock back onto mine. "If you gave me another chance, I promise, I won't fuck it up again." He's not lying, he's being genuine. I can see it written all over his face, the softening of his eyes, the breaking down of his walls. He's having a hard time even attempting to be vulnerable about this.

The shouting from the party starts to get louder. "Ten!" Maybe I should give him another chance. "Nine!" If I get hurt again then it's on me. "Eight!" He is who I want to be with. "Seven!" Why not? Is this not what I wanted just hours ago? "Six!"

"Kiss me." I tell him.

"Five!"

"What?" He sputters out.

"Four!"

"You heard me." I say, giving him a soft smile so that he knows I truly mean it.

"Three!" He shifts his body to be parallel mine. "Two!" His hands cup my cheeks. "One!" His lips meet mine as literal fireworks go off. "Happy New Year!" People shout around us. But my mind is just on him. As he's pulling me as close as humanly possible but it's still not enough.

My hands snake up with his abdomen, fingers gripping at anything they can. His hands move to my hair, to my neck, down my chest, caressing softly down to my hips, pulling and pleading to get as close as possible. My body was being set alight, the familiar feeling I've been yearning for. He's pulling sounds out from me that I've never made before. It's from the feeling that he's fully mine now, no hesitancy in his movements, he's confident and proud in what he's doing.

My fingers move up to curl around strands of his hair, pulling his face fully flush to mine, lips melding and moving against each other at a fiery pace. We break away unfortunately to catch our breath, our smiling faces still touching, neither one of us making an attempt to move farther away. In fact, he's nuzzling his face even closer into mine, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do with me now?" I ask against his lips, looking up into those beautiful, mind melting, ocean like eyes.

"Start the year off right, by apologizing in so many ways." He says then capturing my lips again before dragging me through the crowd of bodies, down the stairs, and out of the door.

#alina writes #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl imagine

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no-saints-around-here · 7 months

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Quiet Afternoon

Yandere BFF Bonten Rindo & Bimbo!Reader

Masterlist

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a little nsfw spinoff from my BFF Rindo series, starting here, masterlist here! not necessary to read but it'll provide some context imo

tw: yandere, smut, dubcon, sexual assault, double pen, afab reader, dead dove do not eat

The muffled clap of skin meeting skin echoed through the opulently decorated bedroom, though calling the enormous space a bedroom was generously stretching the term to its limit. Tastefully decked out in dark-toned hardwoods and the occasional flourish of gold and silver, the priceless masterpieces that decorated the walls and corner of the room as if spoils of wars were barely visible in the dim light, polished frames and shined metal unable to shimmer in the dull ambient glow of the intricate chandelier that hung above the bed. Yet despite all the glitters and glamor that shared the space, it was only the four-poster bed that received any ounce of the spotlight - or more so you, ever so elegantly posed naked on your fours above less sparsely-dressed yet obviously fuming Rindo.

“What the fuck-” The words were hissed through gritted teeth as he harshly thursted himself upwards. “Did I say about talking to the others? Huh?!” You only huffed, unable to even catch your breath as strong arms simultaneously forced you backwards and onto him, his hips meeting the flesh of your buttocks with a wet slap as the Bonten executive plunged his entire length into you.

You, however, barely seemed to notice your self-proclaimed best friend’s foul mood as he pounded himself into you, the pleasure overwhelming any coherent thought that might have been left in that empty head of yours. Angelic voice that once could transfix and mesmerize crowds now reduced to mere huffing and wheezing, your doe-like eyes rolled backwards as he grinded his cock harshly against that one soft, spongy spot of your inner wall. Rindo was sure that the only thing keeping you up was his strength; the same strength that had kept you safe from the big bad world since you wore him down into friendship in childhood. But it was precisely this fact that had the well-feared mobster pissed off enough to tip his hand and break the sole unspoken rule he had held himself to for all these years to punish you.

Even after so long and what could be considered a forcibly short but successful stint as an idol, you still had barely a brain cell to share between both halves of your head, still couldn’t even follow a single simple instruction that he was sure he had drilled into you countless times.

It was just a routine job, no more than a few hours to be spent apart from you. His orders were easy and direct as they always were when it came to you: forbidding you from leaving the room until he was back, to keep the door locked at all times, and to not breathe a word to any of the other Bonten members except in an absolute emergency. Straightforward enough, yet where did he find you upon his return from his exhausting mission? Not in your shared room, no; he found you instead mesmerized by Koko, that slick, stingy motherfucker trying to brainwash you into selling nudes. Convincing you that he, Rindo, your best friend in the entire world, wouldn’t mind in the slightest since there was money to be made, and that Koko had buyers - dedicated, obsessed and very, very wealthy fans still reeling from your sudden retirement from the industry - lined up that would shell out a bomb for just a mere teasing shot in your panties.

Lies. You should know better than to think those honeyed words were nothing but lies. Because you were his and only his, and as your friend and sole protector, he would happily kill every last person who dared to lay such vulgar eyes on you.

“Why were you with Koko? What else did he say?” The younger of the Haitanis demanded, gloved grip tightening ever so slightly around your hips.

Despite the strong air-conditioning going at full blast and having done so for the past couple of hours, the prominent beads of sweat that clung to your forehead gleamed softly as if crystals clung to your skin as you panted, gasping to catch your next breath. A complete opposite from his own state. Rindo didn’t feel the slightest bit winded from this post-work workout despite being mostly clad in his combat outfit: the bulletproof vest paired with a simple black shirt and tie only missing a similarly colored pair of pants, with said clothing having long been stripped off and hurriedly discarded. Though more irritating was having to watch the dirt and grime and filthy blood of the outside world being rubbed off onto your bare skin - he’ll have to make sure that you got an extra thorough bath later. God only knows what kind of sickness you could catch.

You, however, remained unresponsive to Rindo’s demands except the occasional whuff and sharp exhale, lost in the pleasure rippling through your body from the valley between your legs.

Finally pulling himself out from his spiraling thoughts, the Bonten executive paused in his movements, sharp violet eyes narrowing at your failure to respond as he left himself half submerged in your folds. “Are you even listening?” He snarled, accompanied with another strong thrust that earned him a throaty gasp from you before stopping once more.

Rindo’s only answer was your struggle against his hold in a vain attempt to regain the sudden loss of friction. “Ah-ahh Rin-rin,” you whined, pleaded, as you desperately tried to regain the momentum that sparked pleasure in your abdomen, though your attempt to grind against him was in vain. "I really tr-ied!"

He already did so much for you - the tattoo on the front of his neck that branded him as Bonten was all for you. Who better to protect you from rabid world who would tear you apart without hesitation than the largest criminal organization in Japan? All those tortured souls, those eyes that he stared straight into before ending their life, all the blood that stained his hands. Rindo did it to keep you safe, to keep you by his side. And this was how you repaid your best friend? “You didn’t try hard enough.”

Countless men he had killed who had tried to take you away, who had tried to steal away your heart, who had tried to get you to notice them. And countless more he will kill - strangers, Bonten employees, former fans. He would kill them all for you. But even now, Rindo couldn’t quite muster himself to get genuinely angry at you. Even after you betrayed his trust, it was pretty much what Rindo had expected - you had always been quite the airhead, which was why you depended on him, why he, your best friend, had to care for you and look after you.

He’ll punish you for this transgression all right, but not too much; the thought of you fearing him, leaving him, sent shivers down his spine. Just a little bit wouldn’t hurt to keep you in line.

‎

Sure, Ran might have been strolling down Executive Row with the precise intention of poking his nose into his younger brother’s business, especially after the juicy rumors swirling as to what went down a couple of hours earlier with Koko. Now clean and dressed in a fresh set of shirt and shorts, this part of Bonten HQ was predictably void of souls - no servant would dare be caught loitering where the bosses lived. But being able to hear your harmonious voice whining from the corridor for all to hear? Even he didn’t expect something so bold from Rindo, not when the latter had a custom-made soundproof bedroom door installed the day he moved in. And sure enough, the thick, heavy padded steel door was slightly ajar, an oddity in the otherwise lifeless hallway neatly lined with an alternating pattern of invaluable treasures and rightly shut doors - Rindo must have been in a mighty hurry if he failed to do something so routine.

The rare and untimely creak of the usually well-oiled door fortunately failed to draw any attention, Ran noted, and the full view of your naked backside mooning him from the entrance quickly made it clear what his dear brother was occupied with. He remembered you well not only from your shared childhood in the Haitani household, but more recently from your time on the stage, those captivating melodies that you belted out without a second thought roaring up to the front of his mind once more. No doubt he still hears them from time to time on the air, but having had the opportunity to listen to you in person once, it was clear why you had rocketed to stardom. But ah Rindo - he kept you close to his side all this time. Negotiating with Mikey just to let him have you, he was always so obsessed with you, baring his teeth at any of the other executives that dared to even glance your way, let alone allowing you anywhere close to rabid fans eager for a piece of you. He even hides his fucking gun from you. No wonder he forced you to retire from stardom.

For a moment, Ran stood watching the two of you from the doorway. Rindo was frustrated at whatever sin it was that you had committed, and this was his idea of a “punishment”, yet that baby boy nestled amidst the luxurious fabrics was still so obviously, painfully gentle. The way he was edging you so carefully, glancing up at your face every other second just to make sure you weren’t actually hurting, still giving you the occasional pump so that you weren’t left completely high and dry; what else was there to say? Ran was nowhere this kind even to his favorite private whores. The smell of sex filled every breath he took as the cool air leaked out from the bedroom and into the otherwise empty passage, before the man finally turned to gently close the door behind him, locking it shut. A smell he was no stranger to, and while he was sure Rindo would maybe be okay if it was just him, but he would definitely be pissed if any of the others ever saw you in your current state. Pissed enough to end them with a clean gunshot to the head probably, and Ran shuddered at the possibility of having to bail Rindo out from Mikey’s wrath.

A soft chime ringing out from an unseen clock was like the starting bell of a fight, and it was a smirk that pulled at Ran’s lips as he padded over to the centerpiece of the room. Time to make this little session a proper punishment - he did have a heart after all, and if it did help Rindo keep you more in line, then fantastic

Your self-proclaimed best friend only took note of the unwelcome intruder when the nightstand drawer was pulled open, and in an instance, that look of mock anger (Ran was certain it was all just a bluff) fell away into horror as their eyes met. “What the fuck-“ Rindo stammered, the gears in his head seemingly coming to a grinding halt. You at least had enough awareness left in you to let out an eep at the sudden introduction of another voice, though you quickly settled back down as Rindo’s arms tightened protectively around you; maybe you assumed that all this was Rindo’s idea? Ran wouldn’t be surprised - your airhead already relied so heavily on the other to guide you through life.

“You left the door open. So I invited myself in.” The older of the two helpfully supplemented, signature lazy grin plastered all over his face as he rummaged for a little before pulling out a small tube.

“Get out!”

“Aww Rin-Rin, why’re you being so mean?” Ran teased as he slid onto the plush bed, comfy blankets that usually swaddled you and your delicate skin puffing up under his bony self as the man made his way across the enormous mattress. “I’m just here to help.”

“Don’t you dare touch her,” swore Rindo, the previous anger that had melted away from his face just minutes ago flaring up once more, cheeks reddening as he glared down Ran. “I’ll fucking kill you, I swear.”

But the fighting words barely bothered the older Haitani, more than used to his brother’s all bark and no bite when it came to actually making a move in front of you. “You want to punish her, don’t ya?” Drawled Ran, as he finally reached you. You jumped when cold hands touched your cheeks, spreading them apart with a critical eye as if appreciating a feast. “Doesn’t seem like it with what you’re doing.”

Ignoring the continuously growing threats that Rindo was growling at him from the bed, Ran instead busied himself making a show of squeezing out what was revealed to be lube from the small tube and generously coating his fingers. The shiny liquid seemingly glimmered under the light of the chandelier against the backdrop of your equally glittery skin, his anticipation of what was to come shortly quickly leading to a tent in his shorts. After all, desire for something was directly proportional to how off-limits it was, and you had been off-limits to him since Rindo first brought you home. He couldn’t wait. Casually pushed two slicked digits into your tight pucker, giving it a few lazy pumps in what seemed like an attempt to loosen and oil your bottom up for him, his impatience got the better of him, and the Bonten executive gave up all pretense. Hurriedly pushing down the band of his shirts and pulling out his already hard dick, you weren’t given a warning other than the light touch of his length as Ran lined himself up.

Your eyes popped open the same time that his head was forced past your ring of muscles, and your nose scrunched, an unmistakable sign of the flaring pain from between your legs. And the struggles started right after as you made a valiant attempt to free yourself from Rindo’s arms, the beads of sweat that clung to your hair holding on for dear life as you tried to wriggle away. “Ri-Rin, it hurts…”

But Ran was already lost to the warm heaven he, like an explorer stumbling upon the entrance to nirvana, had discovered within your wriggling body. “Oh- oh f-fuck,” was all the man could moan as his length sank in slowly and surely, the feeling of your newly opened bottom clutching and squeezing around his dick pure ecstasy, his mind almost liquid mush. Was this heaven what Rindo had been hiding from him all these years? Probably not, the executive floatingly mused to himself, as he pushed himself further inwards, given how deep in denial his younger brother was when it came to his relationship with you.

Your backdoor was miles better than any whore he had taken, in a league of your own, and that was putting it lightly - the warmth of your insides around him, combined with your muffled pained whines almost enough for the older Haitani to cum instantly if he had an ounce lesser of self-control. Sex might not have been Rindo’s top priority for keeping you out of the public’s eye and away from the rest of the Bonten executives, but god it should be - Ran would have been happy to pay an unimaginable number of zeros just for access to you..

Even Rindo let out a deep throated groan at the additional friction, before he caught himself and bit it back. Yet it was clear that you were stretched beyond your limit, the double penetration visibly causing strain between your legs, your thighs spasming with effort as you bit down hard on your lips, tears welling in those doe eyes of yours.

Slender fingers reaching down to gingerly touch at where you and Rindo were joined, the light exploratory brushes of his fingertips only serve to intensify your discomfort, as judged from the whimper that escaped your lips. Ran whistled - if that was enough to hurt…. That too failed to stop the smugly grinning executive, the older Haitani never ceasing as he continued to force his way past muscles that failed to keep him out, until he finally bottomed out in you, his balls slapping with enough force to let out an audible squelch. A pause, a temporary mercy to let you adjust to his size alongside Rindo’s, but more for Ran to admire the new expression that tore at your face.

An agonized grimace, a bleed of blood that adorned your plush lips, the idol that captured hearts was lost in the sea of pain he was putting you through. There was something beautiful about it, Ran admitted, as he ran one hand through your sweat-drenched hair, teasingly tracing light patterns into your back - he doubt there were many people who had ever seen this side of you, and it was a privilege he would treasure. The lust came flooding back as your tears fell, and Ran couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to the back of your head before straightening.

“Move Rindo,” Ran grunted, as he started to grind his cock against your walls, pulling out slightly before slamming himself back in. “Move, dammit.”

‎

“Fucking hell Ran, you’re hurting her!” In a bid to dislodge the other from you, the younger of the two had attempted to roll you over and under him, but the slightest nudge had you crying out at the extra stretch, and Rindo stopped. He wasn’t going to lie that he wasn’t enjoying the extra friction - he had never experienced anything close before - but you were and always will be his first priority. You crying was the last thing he wanted, and the guilt was welling at the base of his gut. What fresh new hell was he putting you through?

Yet for all the nasty names his brain was yelling at him for not calling off this entire session, for not reaching under his pillow for his gun, Rindo couldn’t bring himself to pull out just yet. Against him knowing better than to continue, his hips began to thrust once more, and said gangster could only shove down the protesting best friend inside him.

He couldn’t tell when him and Ran had synced up, their thrusts falling into a pattern of one in, one out. The sheer friction generated was godly - the divine feeling of his cock rubbing up against another felt through the thin wall that separated your pussy from your ass as they were forced past each other. And as the seconds - minutes, hours? Rindo had long lost track of time - your own cries of pain died down, you letting out tired whines and grunts as you laid spent on Rindo’s chest, the two brothers too busy hammering their hips against yours in a chase of pleasure to notice. All three of you toppled over that edge at the same time, Rindo letting out a strangled ‘fuck’ before like a tension coil finally allowed to release, his hot cum spurted deep into you as he shuddered against you. And nestled as far as he could push in your ass, Ran’s cock pulsed and shuddered as he too released his load into you.

Around them, the sudden warmth seemed to trigger a response from you, your walls tightening around them as you came, though you barely twitched, your eyes already half-closed as you laid cuddled against Rindo, exhausted. Letting out a satisfied grunt, Ran finally pulled out of you, falling backwards to sit on the plush bed in a daze, the last dribble of cum drooling from the head of his softening dick. “That was- '' Said mafioso swallowed hard, unable to describe the feeling, though jumbled mind quickly latched on to the white cum starting to seep from both your holes. “Trying to get her pregnant?”

Post-nut clarity hit Rindo like a truck, and the bliss plastered across his face evaporated, giving way to a dark, angry look. Reaching under his pillow, it was that telltale click as a familiar pistol was pulled from underneath the white covers. “That was you overstaying your welcome,” snarled Rindo, as he leveled the barrel straight at Ran. “Fuck. Off.”

Ran beat a hasty retreat, barely able to push his dick back into his shorts before he disappeared behind the heavy steel bedroom door, said door groaning as it was locked shut with a soft thud.

Alone once more, the background whirl of the air-conditioning suddenly seemed so loud, the air blowing through unseen grates whistling as it drifted down from the high ceiling. The made-man turned his attention to you, violet eyes softening as he took in your fatigued form and your flushed cheeks. Stripping off his gloves, your best friend carefully rubbing his thumb over where hot tears had torn their way down your delicate skin, before chancing a glance between your legs. Ravaged would have been light - Rindo grimacing at the sight of your still panting pucker, red and inflamed from where it had been forced open.

Sighing, the man bundled your naked form ever so gently into his arms, shifting his way off the bed and standing with a crack of his knees. You stirred, looking up at him with swollen eyes. “Rin rin?”

He hummed as he crossed the room towards your built-in bathroom. “What is it?” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle as it always was when it came to you, a 180 from the feared Bonten gunman who took lives with nay a blink.

“...” You yawned, snuggling into his chest, your eyes fluttering close once more. “Nothing.”

“Hey, no sleeping yet.” He nudged you. “Pee, shower, then doctor.”

“Doctor?”

Just to make sure you were alright down there, Rindo admitted to himself, the guilt that he had suppressed previously now back to eat away at his heart, but he said nothing more to you. He’ll make it up to you, he swore to himself. Somehow, someway. With a click, the yellow lights flicked on, illuminating the marble-floored spotless bathroom.

You piped up again as you caught your reflection in the mirror. “Koko said - Koko said if I made enough money,” you paused, interrupted by another yawn. “You could stop working.”

“I don’t need your fucking money, stupid.” Placing you down on the toilet, the purple-haired man flicked your forehead, rolling his eyes. And that was the truth. It didn’t matter - it had never mattered - what he had to do. All this was for you. All he needed was you.

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cinebration · 9 months

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Too Slow For Me (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: Of all the bars in all the world, Jake had to walk into yours.

Tagged: @abaker74, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @the-romanian-is-bae, @b-bradshaw, @alldaysdreamers, @bat-luna-cat, @solo2leo, @lucy-sky

Warnings: none

Gif Source: topgundaily

When you were hired to work as a bartender for Penny Benjamin at her bar, you thought nothing of it. The Jake Seresin you knew, while an up-and-coming hotshot flyboy, would never make it to TOPGUN, not with his mouth and his inability to play well with others. Working in the bar would be safe, you were sure of it.

Until a year later when Jake walked through the door.

A shock of surprise blasted through you when you recognized his face across the room, heard the familiar sound of his voice. Like suddenly being doused in cold water, you shivered and felt your heartrate skyrocket.

There was nowhere to hide. As the only bartender on duty, you were obligated to stay behind the bar. You couldn’t run even as Jake crossed the room and headed directly to you.

Trying to quell the mounting panic in your chest, your skin suddenly unbearably itchy as sweat broke out beneath your armpits, you forced yourself to stay calm.

He stopped at the bar and leaned his forearms against it. “Two beers.”

He flashed a pearly white smile.

You felt as though you’d been punched in the stomach. Nodding jerkily, you faced away from him to find two beers and pop off their tops, your face burning.

He didn’t remember you.

You handed him the beers and wordlessly took the money he slapped down onto the countertop, everything within you screaming as you fought back the hot tears pushing insistently at the back of your eyes.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, winking. “What’s your name?”

You quietly gave it to him. A faint crease rumpled his smooth brow.

“Don’t I—”

“Can I get two beers and a boilermaker?” another patron asked, raising their voice over Jake’s.

“Sure thing,” you answered with false cheer, scurrying away with relief to fetch the man’s drinks.

As Jake walked away to join his buddies, he glanced back over his shoulder as though to catch your eye, but you studiously avoided his gaze. Bitterness and pain flooded you as you kicked yourself for being stupid enough to think that working in a bar that catered to Navy pilots wouldn’t make you cross paths with him again.

Maybe, you realized, you had wanted to this happen. Maybe you had wanted the chance…

When you first met Jake, he was fresh out of flight school and hadn’t earned his call sign yet. You hadn’t recognized that his confidence was arrogance and his ego was outsized even for an Navy pilot. You couldn’t see past the charm, his grin, and the mischievous green eyes.

You never expected Jake to even look at you. He seemed to like girls faster than the jets he flew, and you were decidedly not one of them. As you once half-heartedly joked with your mother, you were invisible, particularly to anyone who looked even half as handsome as Jake.

So when he approached you one night, teeth gleaming and eyes glittering in the soft lighting of the bar, cozied up to you, and invited you out to dinner, you could hardly believe your luck. You pinched yourself more than once through the night, so surreal it all felt.

He took you to a middle-grade Italian restaurant that was better than getting pizza and beer but not very extravagant. You didn’t mind, preferring the food to the heavier, richer foods of high-end restaurants. The conversation was stimulating, Jake’s charisma out in full force and the banter crisp and light-hearted. You had never quite so clicked with anyone as you did with Jake that night.

As the evening wound to a close, you were excited to see him again. Before you could say as much, he leaned in toward your ear and whispered, “Why don’t we get out of here?”

Your heart plummeted. Swallowing thickly, you pulled away and muttered, “I’m not…I don’t think so.”

He frowned. “Why not? I thought we were getting along great.”

“We were—are. But…not on a first date.”

He stared at you, the glimmer in his eyes fading. Shaking his head, he exhaled heavily. “You’re too slow for me, sweetheart.”

And he left you standing there, cheeks burning and your stomach roiling.

You hadn’t eaten Italian since.

The night crawled. You exerted all of your energy trying to avoid looking in Jake’s direction or focusing on his voice as he crowed with his friends over winning shots at the dartboard or the pool table. You served drinks and faked smiles at everyone else that came up to the counter.

When the evening waned into the early morning hours, all that remained were Jake and his friends. You could hear the individual tick of the second hand of the clock over their laughter and raised voices, itching for it to be two a.m. so you could kick them out.

“Last call,” you finally yelled with relief.

Jake immediately sauntered over. You wanted to kick your own teeth out.

“Last round of beers for us,” he said, leaning against the counter.

Nodding, you counted heads and proceeded to collect the beer bottles.

“Don’t I know you?”

You froze, your heart thumping painfully in your chest. “No,” you answered. You popped open the first beer.

“Nah, I definitely know you”

You tried to pop off the caps faster, working furiously to hand them to him.

“Wait a minute…” He leaned forward, scrutinizing your face as you handed gave him the last of the beers.

“That’ll be thirty dollars.”

“You’re that girl. Italian dinner, no after party.”

Your cheeks burned. Ducking your head, you tapped the bar. “Thirty dollars.”

“Where’re the beers?” one of his friends called. “Hurry up, man!”

“How’ve you been?” Jake asked, frowning slightly as he dug around for his wallet.

“Why would you care?” you muttered, snatching the money from his hand. You scurried away from him to the opposite side of the room, hiding behind chores.

The group left before you had to kick them out at two. Relief made you slump into a chair with your head in your hands, your stomach slowly relaxing and releasing the knot it had been holding for hours. Somehow, Jake remembering you—or rather, how he had remembered you—was worse than him not recognizing you at first.

You took your time wiping down the tables and booths, stacking the chairs atop them so you could run a quick vacuum over the floor. The chores helped relax you, though bitter sadness lingered tartly in your mouth.

You locked up, debating how to tell Penny that you were quitting, and strode across the sand to the parking lot—where Jake and his friends had set up a stunt course with orange traffic cones, daring each other to do better as they screeched through the obstacle course. Cones went flying as each one clipped corners too hard or fumbled gear changes, the clutch grinding like a creature in the throws of pain.

You hesitated as you watched them, as you watched Jake laughing at his friends’ failures. Leaning against your car, you watched waited for his turn.

Climbing into the car, he revved the engine like he knew what he was doing and took off, burning rubber on the asphalt as he navigated the course. He clipped one cone, then two, before spinning out as a third snagged in the wheel-well.

Everyone laughed and talked shit as Jake climbed out of the car with a sheepish grin on his face. He shrugged it off and said, “Nobody can make this course, man.”

You pushed off your car, tossed your purse into it, and strode across the asphalt to Jake. He sobered as you approached, wariness diminishing the humor in his expression. You held out a hand for the keys.

“I wanna try,” you said.

A quiet ooooo rippled through the group.

“No offense,” he began.

You tore the keys from his hand.

“Uh, knock yourself out, I guess.”

“No way,” someone else said, shaking his head as you passed him to the car. “What’s a civilian gonna do? Total our car!”

You slipped into the driver’s seat and adjusted it before slamming the door shut, blocking out the naysaying crowd’s voices. Inhaling deeply, you glanced at the obstacle course, committing it to memory.

How’s this for fast? you thought savagely.

Kicking the car into gear, you shot forward into the opening of the track. With practiced hands, you shifted seamlessly through gears, the clutch almost purring with relief at not grinding. Coming up to the first pinched turn, you tore around it easily, the rear bumper of the car missing a cone by mere centimeters.

The thrill of the speed rushed through you, making the crowd and the circumstances drop away. You tore around the next turn, looked ahead to see that two scattered cones were a threat to your wheels.

Without hesitation, you slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a slide. Yanking the gear shift into reverse, you pivoted the car into another 180, sliding through both cones and whipping around to finish the last leg of the course.

You streaked through the other side, not a single cone touched in your wake.

Cheers thundered in the silence of the night as you killed the engine and exited the car.

“Un-fucking-believable!” someone shrieked. “Did you see that!?”

The only woman in the group was grinning, a “Niceeeee” hissing past her lips.

Jake trotted up to you. “That was—”

You tossed the keys at his chest. He had to scoop them off the asphalt as you strode across the parking lot to your car.

“Hey, wait a minute.” He hurried to your side. “I want to talk to you.”

“What for?”

He blinked. “I want to buy you a drink, catch up.”

You stopped abruptly, adrenaline still flooding your veins. You stared him directly, the first time you had been able to meet his eye all night. He took a step back under the force of your gaze.

“Why?”

“Because…you’re interesting.”

“I was always interesting, dipshit. You just didn’t stick around to find out,” you snarled.

You took off to your car, leaving him standing there. He tried to catch up, but you were too fast for him.

#Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin imagine #Hangman x Reader #Hangman #Hangman imagine #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin imagine #Glen Powell x Reader #Glen Powell #Glen Powell imagine #Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM

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xanyiaz · 3 months

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[repost] redacted audio characters if they saw the Barbie movie :)

- damn crew went together ofc <3

- huxley dragged damien to see it but by the end, damien was crying more than huxley

- lasko cried loads during the mother-daughter scenes and everyone else comforted him 🫶🫶

- gavin dressed up in all pink with pink platform boots and completely ATE. got freelancer leaning back on the floor taking loads of pictures of him like a celebrity

- caelum went with gavin & freelancer (their second watch). was sitting on gavin’s lap as a lil booster and kept clinging onto him and freelancer at the emotional scenes 🥹 gavin and freelancer bought him candyfloss after which perked him up again :’)

- guy was joking around in the beginning but held honey’s hand tight throughout the whole film. after the film he blasted “I’m just Ken” on full volume in the car on the way home and swore to make a Ken pizza on his next shift

- sweetheart teasing milo when Ken was showing off his mojo dojo casa house and bought him a pink glitter cowboy hat on the way home 💀

- elliott made a dreamscape of the barbie dream house & the mojo dojo casa house after the film

tag list <3 (lmk if you'd like to be added or removed !!): @zeerohpunk @themeridian @puffin-smoke @vind3miat0r @froggytimemachineinternet @redactedbloop @slushiepizza @qhoaaaa @plaqying @ashton-sano @mokozroach @washa @idk-ig-7 @kuteheadrest @solairereject @copsecore

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marthashlyn3 · 3 months

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🌺Hibiscus Times Daily🌺

Epoch Summary: Prophecy. Artistry. Establishment. Love. Evolution. Time. Progression. Mind, Body, Spirit. New Genesis. Tangent. Culture & traditions. Alien stuff organized. Of God stuff recognized. Obedience to the lord. Connection to the kingdom of heaven. Natural living. Cosmic being. Humble.

The state of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church

Sinai Haitian SDA Church. Informerly, Sinai French SDA Church.

Coexistence & unity worldwide

God still needs our attention and there needs to be ONE voice. His. His voice must be heard worldwide. He matters and needs a smooth flow

Fun facts: ⬇️

Including ⬇️

Reproved acquaintances by the lord in my personal life

Reproved family by the lord in my personal life

Psycho celebrities & greeks

‘The Players Club’ the movie

My left leg

Irrational personal vendettas

3 older adult warlocks, 1 young adult warlock, & their families

Several young & old adult witches

Poor police work turned difficult to me

Corrupt medical professionals

Silver, rose gold, gold diffusion

“Mom”

“Daddy”

Spiritual issues

Church & state

Family division

Personal lives, individually

New white space

Peace

#active psalms #harmonic alignment #checkerboard chemistry #c natural #guide class freestyle for myself #forward march to peace #soprano #realm of elderings #full blast glitter #full flitter #2024 #quality life #quality assurance #quality control #health science college #survivor series #survivor

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marthashlyn · 1 year

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Think Enchantix Haitian-American Tecna but Bloom-All of them.

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mynameishazard · 11 months

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So, like....Steve just blowing by a sexuality crisis. Full on jumping over that hurdle with little effort on his part.

So Robin and Eddie come up with the grand idea to take Will to a club for under 21s in Indy for his birthday, just to show him that it's okay to be himself even if people are assholes about it.

They're all having a blast and they somehow lose track of Steve. Eddie's just like "he's fine, Robs, let him be" and Robin's like "Eddie you don't understand this is way outside of Steve's wheelhouse people's feelings could get hurt"

And Will is just like "Steve's right there, guys, he's fine"

And they both look over and it's Steve sitting with a guy in his lap, watching him talk as if he's been hypnotized and they both rush over and try to figure things out.

Steve's just like "Hey guys! This is Casey, Casey this is Robin and Eddie!"

Casey looks Eddie up and down so critically that Eddie starts to feel self conscious even as he turns back and asks "So THIS is Eddie, hmm?"

Steve's just nodding like a bobble head, grinning like a fool and Casey presses a kiss to Steve's cheek with a loud smack, leaving glitter as he pulls away and gets off Steve's lap.

"Remember what we talked about, yeah? It's okay and it doesn't make her any less important to you."

Eddie and Robin fuss over Steve as Casey glides away and they ask what he and Steve talked about.

"I like both! The whole time, I thought I couldn't because then it would cheapen my relationship with Nancy somehow but Casey helped me out. I like boys and girls."

Eddie flushes bright pink even as Robin interrogates Steve about if he's sure and usually this kind of revelation is accompanied by some sort of freak out and Steve scoffs.

"I just thought that me liking Eddie would make my relationship with Nancy sort of...less important. Now I know it doesn't and hey Eddie will you go out with me? I really like you and I wanna kiss your lips with my lips."

Eddie.exe needs a moment to reboot as Robin is giggling and playfully scolding Steve for not talking to her about this, DUDE.

Eddie sputters and immediately says yes, I would also like to kiss your lips with my lips, please.

They find Will making out with Casey twenty minutes later.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #will byers

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chlerc · 10 months

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he hey sports ; joão félix

— summary; in which João arrives home and finds you laughing at the partnership video he filmed for EA Sports.

pairing — joão félix x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 707 + an ig post from joão.

content — being lovey-dovey with joão when he comes home after training and sees you laughing at him. But he thinks it’s not really funny and whines about it.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i think the joão leaving Chelsea drought just hit me, i saw him liking Chelsea’s post for Kai Havertz birthday and lost it, that was my last straw fr.

THE SUN SET IN the sky as fresh colours brushed upon an artist's canvas, the orange gold stretches far and wide, the colour of fire hearths and tangerines. With light pouring through the curtains, there she was curled up on the couch with a video constantly replaying.

She had been home this whole day, finishing up with university assignments as well as awaiting the arrival upon home of her favourite portuguese. Whilst being too engrossed with the video on her phone, she was deafened to the sound of an unlocking door. “Seriously? I come home after training to find you laughing at a video that shows me struggling?”

She glances up from her device, staring at the reason who had been the cause of her tears from laughing. Her leg shuffled towards him with her lips upturned, reaching her eyes as they crinkled. “Welcome home, amor.” She giggled while greeting him with a chaste kiss to his lips and grabbing his duffel bag from his grasp.

“Very funny huh? Not that funny when I’m the one struggling eh. I wasn’t even struggling, they just couldn’t hear me right.” João rambles through his gritted teeth although he admits internally that it was a funny thing. “It is very funny, look!” She shoves the clip on her phone right into his face, volume at full blast.

He grumbles in response at her action but still watches the whole video. “He Hey Sports. Bro, come on!” João grabs the phone from her grasp, letting the video run as she lets out a heart laugh. He swore if his struggling to say EA Sports gets him a laugh like this everytime, he would have done it over and over again just for her.

God, the sound of her laughter is a soul elevator for anyone blessed enough to hear it. It was sugar in his day after a training preparation for the weekend. “He Hey Sports bro! I didn’t say H.” He’s hundred percent sure that she just laughed louder at that part of the clip.

“Anjo, enough now. It’s not really nice to be laughing at your boyfriend’s accent.” He whines, turning off the phone as he joins her on the couch where she was clearly having the time of her life teasing him. João snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest where it vibrated to her laughter. “Very funny huh?”

She gazed upon him, her hazel eyes glittering as he saw his own reflection in her eyes. The warmth of her body radiating off her as João felt it in his bones despite the sweater he had on. He leans forward briefly to sneak a kiss on her forehead, the very same smile she greeted him with displayed on her face. They say the sun is the brightest light, but the light of her smile is the brightest they have yet to see.

“Can you say EA Sports for me please?” Her lips jutted out, her doe eyes staring right through his soul. In that moment he knew how utterly fucked he was in the ass, there was no way he would ever be able to resist her or her requests, certainly no way when she was looking at him like that. “You think you’re sooo funny, don’t you?”

“Pleaseee!” She clasps both her hands together, pleading at him but he was going to say it for her either way. “He Hey Sports, it’s in the game.” And there it goes again, her laugh ricocheting throughout the living room. But it was worth it to João, everything was worth it if it meant for her to laugh like that and him being the reason for it.

“No way, we have to play FIFA tonight and have you take a picture of it and post it on Instagram. You have a partnership with them, you gotta make up for not being able to say it right.” She caresses at his cheek with her thumb and João only nods to her. “Yeah you’re having so much fun, I wonder why.” Her eyes twinkled, thinking of the same moment from the clip. His exasperation was it for her. “I am because of you, eu te amo João.”

Liked by ynusername, chelseafc and 3,927,173 others

joaofelix79 i would like to thank He Hey Sports for the scrumptious dinner my girl cooked for me. I’ve been religiously practiced on saying it, I will do better the next video. He Hey Sports, It’s in the game.

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ynusername i got him to say it for me every day he comes home from training 😁

joaofelix79 @ynusername yeah and you be having the most fun 😒

easports @ynusername thanks for helping him out 😂😂😂

chelseafc He Hey Sports João!

risingballers Sequel of that clip 😂😂

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darkdarkstucky · 1 year

Text

Enchanted, S. Rogers and C. Kent.

SUMMARY: In a world where Omega's were scant and decent alpha's even more so, you think you're one in a million to be in a relationship with Alpha's who not only take care of your every whims and need, but also love and respect you unconditionally. However, your marital bliss of two years is interrupted by the concept of ‘true mates’.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Clark kent.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst.

CHAPTER THREE

“Wake up, buttercup!” Natasha cheerily exclaims, clapping her hands together after successfully pulling back the curtains to let the sunshine in your desolate quarters. You groaned sleepily turning your head towards the other direction, until she peeled the covers back from you.

“Uh-uh, we are not letting you sleep in the bed for days on end again.” the red head tuts, pulling your limp arm and ushering you towards a seating position. “Today, we're going out and walking on sunshine vampy.”

“No. Let me wallow in doubt and sadness.” you whine, eyes shut. You were still in dreamland, nestled in the covers with the ac on full blast— and you could literally spend days in the bed it feels like. You were always so sleepy and tired.

Part of you blamed it on over-thinking. Your brain must have been fueling up for all of your racing thoughts. Or it was only during sleep that you weren't thinking anything.

“Can't. The sun is up and the day is to be conquered. Where's your fucking spirit?”

“Oh wait! I remember where i left it, let me check.” you wiggled, making her hold loosen before you dived back into the sheets.

Comfy. So so nice.. you rub your face in Clark's pillow, sighing out in bliss. Just as you were about to doze off again..

“Nat!” you bellow, feeling yourself get lifted off the bed and towards the en suite.

“We're going out and fucking things up dollface! No excuses!”

☁️

“I feel like richard gere and you're my bitch- well, technically not one, but you get my point.” Nat nonchalantly puts down the menu, staring at you from across the table.

There was an astounding array of shopping bags placed neatly along the floor, both of you going haywire on different shops and swiping daddy's plastics, and only when you calmed down did you realize how much clothes you bought.

You'd feel bad, yet both Steve and Clark had gaslighted you early on that it isn't real money princess. So you went on your merry way each time and thought as if you were only playing pretend.

“Why can't i be a bitch?” you mutter, inbetween bites of garlic bread, basically inhaling the small tray of decadent pastry. It was crunchy, and soft on the inside with hints of melted cheese. Ohmy, you wanted to gobble it up.

Nat looked at you as if you were stupid. “Because.. you're rainbows, and butterflies and shiny shimmering glitter.”

You made a face, “You're saying i'm made of nice things? Aww, naty.”

“Yes, and if i put you in my mouth, you'll melt like a cotton candy.” she flippantly voices, which made both of you stare at eachother— silent and intent gazes, before bursting into laughter. Giggling at the unknown double entrede.

“Hello, madamme.” Your head snaps towards a slightly familiar older man decked in a pristine suit, an easy yet flattering grin on his face. “How are you finding your lunch? Has anyone taken your order yet?”

“Oh, hey ben. It's pleasant, as it always is. We've actually just placed our orders,” You smile in response.

“Oh that's great! and you're here with Mrs. Barnes, i see.” He politely nods to the red head. “Will you be joining Mr. Kent at the second floor? He's got an entourage, but i doubt it's concerning business. It appears to be more casual.”

“Is that so? I mean, Clark did say something about a lunch. Who's he with?” Your mouth moves faster than you could think.

In reality, the only thing you've recieved from both of them were casual goodmornings and update as to where they were. Steve was in France, Clark said he was in Russia. Atleast, that was what they told you.

“The usual, madamme. A couple of security details, and a new secretary. She seems to be new, atleast from who Mr. Kent usually keeps in his payroll.” The host narrates, thinking nothing of it. Everyone was already well aware of how much you meant to your husbands— to the point where nobody would bat an eye if they were seen out with another woman. Nobody could possibly believe they would replace you.

And you hated to jump into conclusions, but why would he need to lie?

Your heart wanted to lurch out of your chest. Nat's clearing of her throat made you snap out of your spiral; and you schooled your features back into a cheery expression once again.

“Well, if Mr. Kent wouldn't mind our presence.”

☁️

“.. I was actually a scholar of Kent foundation. Can you believe it? Our fates, so intertwined. It was really as if we were meant to be.” Lois gushes, leaning over in her chair, looking at him as if she were about to jump his bones.

Frankly, it made him quite uncomfortable. Nothing about this - if you could even call it a date, it was more like a formal gathering or a meet of sorts that he was inclined to arrange- felt natural, nor right.

Clark wanted to rely on his base instincts for direction but he couldn't grope for a shred of connection. Not even a silver of fondness, which is strange, considering thag they were supposed to be compatible— the person oppsite of him bore the genetic compatibility, as per several tests.

Though, what she said piqued his interest. “Which part of town would you say?”

“Upper east side,” Lois responds. Clark shifted in his seat, a smile making it's way to his features which held a considerable sway in her judgement. He asks a few more questions in that honeyed voice of his, to which she absently replied at.

“Huh, would you look at that.” He leans back in his seat, gears in his head turning but he maintained an easy smile on his face, mirth dancing in the darkened blue of his eyes.

“How about i permanently move your residence in, say, one of my towers?” Lois' breath hitched at the proposal.

“I-i mean, sure if that's what you want.” she gathered herself for a while, before remembering to act bashful and blinking up at him rapidly, smiling coyly. “I'm yours afterall. Your mate.”

You can hear the jeers and the laughter, staying through the conversation, until you found yourself feeling literal pangs of hurt in your chest. Fuck. What does all of this mean?

“Let me kill this son of a whore,” Nat was about to angrily storm inside, but you managed to stop her, putting an arm out.

“Don't even bother.” you murmur, finding it hard to find your own voice. At that point, you felt almost numb— as if your brain was shutting down from what you've heard, finding it difficult to process at all.

You woke up with the hope of your marriage still intact. Thinking, rather stupidly, that this was just a rather difficult hurdle in your marriage. Thinking that perhaps, this was all just a big misunderstanding like what you were repeatedly assured of.

But this was beyond even your wildest dreams. Nothing made sense. It was as if your world was crashing down on you all at once. True mates? It mocks you repeatedly.

Steve and Clark told you that you were the one. You believed them, because why would they lie to you? They had no reason to!

To get in your pants, silly. The rational, or was it pessimistic part of you said.

You blinked away the tears, turning around, and indulging in the manical urge that clouded all your rationality— run.

So you fled.

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