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assassinsblade · 2 days

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Lonesome

When you can't seem to find a place to belong, a tense exchange with Azriel has you shutting down.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: Death (side character), grief, loneliness, angst

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!

The night had gone . . . okay.

A night with the inner circle. A night with games, drinks, friends, and fun.

Except you didn't have fun exactly. You weren't miserable, but you also hadn't enjoyed yourself. You were just there. In the background, observing and chuckling at the merriment around you.

While you had attempted to chime in every once in awhile, it seemed as though this family wasn't used to hearing you. Or maybe they were just preoccupied. Whatever reason, you kept to the shadows most of the night.

Unfortunately, the shadows were not where the shadowsinger had occupied.

Instead, he had found himself sat next to the middle Archeron sister, grinning at whatever she was quietly describing to him. You watched as his lips quirked, his dark eyelashes fanning over his sharp cheekbones. The spark in his eye as he watched her, the blush on her cheeks.

They had been flirting. All night.

Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you so much. It would have bothered you some, sure, seeing that you had been in love with Azriel for months now. But on a night like tonight, when you needed company and no one was paying attention to you, it hurt just a little bit more.

You had a patient pass earlier in the day--one you were close with, who you had been working on for months. She was young, close to your own age, and it twisted something inside of your soul losing her. It made you feel like a failure, like you had let her down, like you were at fault.

There was a hope inside of your chest when you had opened your bedroom door earlier to make your way to the living area. You had hoped that your friends could help wash away the guilt, self-hatred, and grief. Instead, you sat by yourself, watching as everyone else basked in their own happiness and relationships.

Except they weren't all those kind of relationships. Yet, at least. Nesta did have Cassian, and Feyre did have Rhysand, but Elain and Azriel weren't together currently. She was mated to Lucien despite her protests of the fact. You had tried to keep that in mind as you watched Azriel brush a piece of hair behind Elain's ear.

You, however, never had anyone really. You had grown up in an orphanage in Velaris with no siblings. It had always been difficult for you to make friends, and you thought you had made a friend of this boy named Mika, but he had ended up being controlling and aggressive. After being hurt one too many times, both physically and emotionally, you had tried to just keep to yourself to limit the damage.

And due to the physical damage you had taken in that relationship, you had found an interest in the medical field.

That was how Rhysand found you after you had opened a medical office in the center of Velaris for underprivileged citizens.

That had been a year ago and you still found yourself on the outside of everything. You had watched Azriel over those twelve months, observed the way he kept his family safe, the way he moved softly, rarely raised his voice, and always kept his touch gentle and smooth.

It seemed he never noticed anything about you, though, despite observation being the very thing that made him a shadowsinger.

Maybe it was something about yourself that made you nearly invisible. Invisible or unlikeable.

These thoughts continued to run through your mind as you sipped on your tea, knees curled into your chest on the couch. Everyone else had left about an hour ago, but you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep with everything that had happened today.

You could still see the moment her eyes went blank, the last breath leaving her lungs. It had scarred something deep within you, from both losing a friend due to your own incompetence and from the reminder that you would die alone one day.

A shuffle from the opening of the room broke you from your thoughts. You slowly moved the teacup away from your lips, watching hesitantly as the male crossing your mind walked past the threshold.

He spotted you sitting there and gave you a polite smile before continuing on his way, feet moving swiftly toward the balcony.

You debated whether or not to let him go or if you could try to get him to keep you company. After all, you really needed someone right now. And his calm demeanor and reassuring presence was just what you were looking for.

Azriel had just been about to take off when you stepped out onto the balcony.

"Hey, Azriel."

The male turned at the sound of his voice, eyebrows raised in slight surprise. The action made you second guess yourself. Shouldn't he have heard you coming? Wouldn't his shadows have told him?

"Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah, I-uh, was just wondering if you wanted to talk some. I have some more tea brewing. We haven't been able to get to know each other much yet, so--"

"Sorry, I'm meeting Elain. She wanted to go flying tonight."

Right. Of course.

You nodded. "Sure. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess."

He went to take a step toward the ledge again when you spoke up again. You didn't know what led you to saying these exact words; maybe it was the rough day, the heavy emotions in your chest, or your anger at everyone's disregard for you. But before you could stop it, you were taking a step forward in haste and the words were out of your mouth.

"Actually, do you really think that's a good idea?"

Azriel tensed, head turning slightly to look over his shoulder at you. "I'm sorry?"

You swallowed. He had stopped. That's what you wanted. "She's mated, isn't she? I saw you two tonight, and I don't think--"

"You don't think," Azriel laughed humorlessly. The sound was so odd coming from such a quiet and gentle male, it nearly made you flinch. But you stood strong. Clenching your fists at your sides and taking a deep breath, you spoke what you truly believed.

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt. Lucien is a good male."

"I think we're old enough to make decisions for ourselves." His voice was taking on a cold edge, like a blade smooth enough to cut with little noise but heavy damage. Like the famous dagger sheathed at his side.

"Those decisions could start a war, Azriel."

Despite your voice being soft and patient, he titled his head back with a sigh and a muttered curse, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Listen. I don't need to defend myself to anyone, let alone you."

Let alone you. You ignored the sting in your chest at the words. Shaking off how small and invaluable they made you feel.

"That's not what I'm saying Azriel. I just think you should take a step back--"

"Just because you're alone doesn't mean I have to be too."

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, the air leaving your lungs in a whoosh of emotion.

Alone. Lonely.

Unwanted.

You were alone. He could see it. He knew it. And he had done nothing about it.

He didn't care.

You must have been staring at him like a fool. A pathetic girl unable to stand up for herself, unable to move away from the male in front of her, because then she would truly be what he said she was: alone.

You swallowed harshly, trying to push the lump in your throat back down along with the tears that threatened to collect in your eyes. But it was difficult with your chest throbbing in pain, your stomach twisting and bottoming out with embarrassment and shame.

Azriel must have noticed your lack of composure, your hurt. Because suddenly he was sighing, a hand coming up to run through his wavy black hair.

"I didn't mean that."

His low voice cut through the silent night like a knife. You still couldn't meet his eyes.

Hiding your shaking fingers in two fists at your sides, you nodded, taking a step back toward the door of the House of Wind. If you were nodding as a show of forgiveness or in agreement with his words, you didn't know. You could feel his eyes following you. But you didn't want them on you anymore. For once, you didn't want him near you.

"I'm sorry."

You nodded again, moving to wrap your arms around yourself. The motion in itself made you even more embarrassed. The lonely girl with no one to comfort her but herself.

That dreadful feeling in your chest burned.

You didn't wait for him to speak another word before turning on your heel and walking back into the House of Wind.

Feeling his eyes on you, you didn't linger in the main room, instead turning the corner and concealing yourself in the hallway as you made your way to your room.

Azriel had never been so harsh with you, had never spoken to you in that tone or said something so humiliating and cruel. Although he had never spoken to you much at all.

Alone. Lonely. You, and no one else.

You should have never said anything. Should have let Azriel pursue Elain, minded your own business, loved everyone from afar. Instead, you had made yourself visible, opened your mouth, demanded to be seen and heard. All it had resulted in was a reminder that you didn't belong out in the open. You would always be shoved back into your solitude.

Maybe you could learn to like being alone. You wouldn't have to face the rejection of others, the forgetfulness, the feeling of unimportance.

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed your room. The space was equally as cold as the rest of the House. There was no comfort in the room, nothing that meant a lot to you. No presents, no memories, nothing you. Only furniture, blankets, and clothing. Generic paintings that were in here before you had even moved in.

Then you remembered when Elain and Nesta had arrived. The presents they had been given. The daggers, gloves, trinkets . . .

The things you had given others: jewelry, weapons, books, artwork, and yet your room was empty. You were empty. You had been giving and giving and watching everyone else receive.

You thought back to that moment during the war, the feeling you had felt when you had looked up after victory was declared. Cassian and Azriel had embraced before the two Archeron sisters met at their sides. Feyre and Rhysand were inseparable, and Mor was making sure Amren was okay. No one had even glanced at you.

And what Azriel had said . . .

You weren't meaning to drag him down with you, to demand his attention when they all had what they needed without you. You were trying to help. And you wanted him to see you.

But you didn't even see yourself. Not in this room, and not among the others.

So maybe it was pointless--trying so hard to get others to like you. Maybe being quiet and a wallflower, keeping the peace and admiring from afar only resulted in wasted energy.

Since nothing seemed to get others to like you or want to talk to you, maybe you shouldn't try anymore.

After all, Azriel already didn't seem to like you.

And your one friend who did had died today. In your arms. Because of you.

Just the thought of not caring lifted an invisible weight off your shoulders. You shook off the pain of Azriel's words, the weight of your feelings, and the burden of loneliness. And then you felt nothing.

No crush. No embarrassment. No hurt. No grief.

Just a numbness building in your bones.

And it was glorious.

#azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel angst #acotar x reader #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar x y/n

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norrisleclercf1 · 22 hours

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Hiii first of all i love you work like ALL OF YOUR WORK!! 🤍 second is can you maybe do a Mafia Lando request? i was thinking like lando & reader got into a huge fight and lando snapped at her and left but came back home with so many bruises like he went on a fight and doesn’t want reader to know cause he hates seeing her cry but she still found out and helped him clean his wounds and eventually they talked it out forgave each other.

Im sorry if its too much, its been sitting on my mind for a while and i was just too shy to ask 😭 if you do it, thank youuu ily!! if not then its ok!! hahaha 🫶🏻

A/N: Mafia Lando? Good excuse to use the cutting his nose thing now hehehehehehe

"You're home late," Lando jumps about 10 feet in the air, hearing your voice come out of the darkness of the living room. "Jesus, the fuck you doing sitting in the dark, baby." Lando turns on the light and freezes seeing your dressed up.

"Why you dressed up, have a hot date?" Lando jokes, sliding off his jacket, exposing the two guns strapped to his chest. "Yeah, was supposed to have an anniversary dinner, but my date never answered his phone," You snap, standing up as Lando's eyes grow wide. "Oh fuck, baby," He reaches out of for you, but you slap his hand away.

"No, don't baby me." You snarl turning to face your boyfriend who seemed slightly annoyed. "Y/n," Lando's voice turns just a little bit deeper, his eyes hardening on you. "Don't, don't you dare get upset with me Lando Norris, you forgot our anniversary, and you don't even seem to care, do you even love me? Because for a small second I thought maybe you're dead, or arrested or who the fuck knows!" You yell, wanting to throw something at his head, you're so angry.

Lando scuffs and rolls his eyes, "I forgot a dinner, Y/n, it's okay, I'll make it up to you," Lando rolls his neck, he didn't want to fight, he just wanted to lie in bed and cuddle you close, instead you were being a brat and arguing with him. "Jesus, I'm fucking tired Y/n, I don't want to argue with you, can we just go to bed." Lando snaps, eyes so angry and voice so dark it has you flinch back, Lando freezes seeing your reaction.

"Fuck," Lando curses, and turns around grabbing his jacket and storming out of the house, slamming the door.

-------------------------

"Shit," Lando sighs, nose busted across, bleeding a good bit, with his hands cut and bruised, a cut on his eyebrow and cheek bruised that it was almost black. "Sir?" Lando stops, seeing one of his people at his door and he knows he looks bad. Actually, he probably was going to make you cry, again.

Lando hated making you cry, it was like a stab wound in him each time he was the cause of those tears, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to cause you to smile, not cry. "Sir, she's still awake, and I don't think she should see you," Lando frowns, not liking that his guards knew you that well, even though he literally had them to know you that well.

"Thank you," Lando grounds out, and slips into the penthouse, sighing at the Monégasque night life, and the way you're staring out the window. Lando slowly steps but freezes when you turn and make eye contact with his bandaged-up face. "Lando," You gasp and rush forward gently cradling his face in your hands. "Let's go to the bathroom," You whisper, and he nods his head as he silently follows you to the bathroom.

Flicking on the light, you whimper seeing the full effect and Lando looks away, not wanting to see you cry. He hated when you cried, it felt like his heart was being ripped to shreds. You slowly undo the bandage and sigh in relief at the small cut but tsk slightly. "It might scar," Lando nods and moves sitting on the toilet as you slowly start to clean him up.

"I didn't mean to forget," He whispers, voice froggy from how dry his throat is. "I know, I shouldn't have yelled," Lando chuckles and pulls you close, ignoring the sting in his hands. "You had the right to yell, it's me that shouldn't have yelled," Lando whispers and you hum softly and place a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Let's just watch movies, as I nurse you, I just want you home, safe," Lando nods and hisses as you place the ointment on his hands and gently wrap them. "You might be a big bad mafia boss, but to me, you're just my Lando, just be my lando," You whisper, kissing him gently as you rub the bruise. Closing his head he nods, melting into your hug as he remembers, he doesn't have to be the mafia boss, with you, he just needs to be here.

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roosterforme · 3 days

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too.

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

----------------------------

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

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Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

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"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt.

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially.

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

-------------------------------

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

---------------------------

Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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rafesslxt · 3 days

Text

✧.* 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

[ aftercare ] ― he would cuddle you right after and clean you up depending on the mess you two made. I can also imagine him smoking a cigarette next to you If you‘re okay with that and If not he would cuddle you for a while and then stand up to smoke at the window – then coming back for cuddles ofc

[ body part ] ― he is a ass type of man to me. Always has a hand near your booty but also your face ? Like his hands would always stroke your cheeks and he would leave kisses all over it - oh and ofc he LOVES your pussy

[ cum ] ― he‘d go NUTS seeing you covered in it, marking you as his

[ desires ] ― He would go crazy for any kind of sort of begging from you - hearing your whiny voice begging him to do the filthy things to you he loves so much. Teasing him would also he a big turn on for him. Bending over things, accidently brushing your hand over his thigh near his dick

[ experience ] ― HONESTLY i know most of us like to think he‘s experienced and knows what he‘s doing bc he had mich sex before BUT I think a lot of girls would be terrified of him being the dark lord‘s son. So yes he is a natural and knows just what feels good, studying your reactions to his touch all night long but he would not have that much experience

[ first time ] ― Like i said he wouldn‘t sleep around that much so maybe it‘s with his first girlfriend or situationship he has with a girl he likes

[ grooming ] ― he wouldn‘t be very picky about how you groom as long as it‘s not completely out of control - he himself would make sure it‘s always clean and trimmed ? Idk man i never thought of that

[ horny ] Mattheo is a horndog 100%. And she wouldn’t even have to try since he would get a boner from almost everything she does. I think physical touch would be important to him since he never got much of it and also wants to try so much with you so he can win more experience to please you even better.

[ intimacy ] — Depends on what you like - he‘s a pleaser in my head so If you would want soft he would prepper you in kisses and praising words "you‘re doing so good baby i love you so much." but If you‘d like it rough he would dirty talk to you until your eyes roll back and manhandle you "fuck baby you feel my cock inside your belly? M' gonna fuck every other thought out of your head."

[ joker ] ― he could laugh when slmething clumsy happens but otherwise he‘d be more on the serious/passionate side

[ kinks ] ― Mattheo loves seeing u begging as i said but also is into you calling him daddy or sir, anything that makes him feel powerful. A kink he didn‘t know he had was his being sub. It didn‘t happen that often but he‘d enjoy it so much after like a rough week - you taking care of him and not judging but loving his little whimpers - also a little orgasm denial on you

[ locations ] ― literally anywhere - he would not give a single fuck If someone saw you two fucking as long as he can shield or hide your naked body - but If it would he a quiecky with him just sliding under your skirt he would love the drill of being caught and claiming you as his for other‘s

[ masturbation ] ― he‘s a horndog + single? Then he‘d masturbate quiete a lot but when he finally got you, he didn‘t need to anymore

[ no go ] ― anything that has to do with other people - he‘d be way too possessive and jealous for including someone else into your sexlife

[ oral ] ― MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH you cannot tell me otherwise! He would get drunk on your pussy, eating it out for hours sometimes. But he also enjoys getting sucked off by you too

[ positions ] ― he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure and your little gasps for air when he fucks into you. so anything like fucking you from behind but in front of a mirror or you riding him and trying your best bouncing up and down on him would do it for him - but I also think when the two if you argue and fuck he would push your face into a pillow while grabbing your hips from behind so you would shut up

[ quickies ] ― he‘d love them cause that means he get‘s extra sex in between classes, before quidditch training or studying

[ rounds ] ― i think his stanima is good like 2-3 long rounds before he would have to take his first break. Either he would smoke a cigarette or eat you out in the meantime

[ secrets ] ― he doesn‘t have real secrets since he‘s really comfortable with you

[ toys ] ― he would be confused when he first caught you with one - poor voy thinking you don‘t enjoy his cock but after you explain it to him he would use it here and there on you vut mostly just when he try‘s teasing and edging you

[ underwear ] ― he LOVES when you wear red for him, not caring what kind of underwear as long as it‘s red. He‘d also almost come directly in his pants when he notice you don‘t wear any under your skirt but would punish you still

[ volume ] ― Mattheo loves your loud moans and screams of his name, he would praise you so much for it and just gets drunk on your little whimpers for him - mattheo would also be quiete vocal always dirty talking to you or groaning at how tight you feel around him

[ watch ] ― he would never let anyone watch you - not even over his dead body but like i said before when you have clothes on and he slips under your skirt he‘d enjoy someone catching you two

[ xxx ] ― would only watch when he‘s single but even then not that often

[ yearning ] ― he would be the biggest tease ever! Stroking your inner thigh under the table in class or at dinner. He‘d tease you by whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear while all your friends are around, slowly brushing his hands over your clothes pussy when nobody‘s looking

[ zzz ] ― usually depends on his day. If he had quidditch training or was awake all night then he‘d be tired after it but otherwise he‘d kind of get his energy from fucking you

you do not have to agree on that – remeber he‘s fictional and that‘s MY opinion 🫶🏻

here‘s my masterlist If you wanna read more <3

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @kr-1-sta @sagetakami

xoxo sarah <3

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 23 hours

Text

Failing

Summary: Joel made many mistakes. The biggest was leaving you.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Rating: G

Warnings: angst, a lot of inner thoughts, panic attacks, Joel and Ellie do not talk, Joel is a mess, lots of talk about being a failure and not good enough, messy breakup, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: This has been going through my mind since I saw the new pic yesterday. This is really different from everything I write usually, so let me know what you think. And yeah, come yell at me in my inbox

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

He knew he should have stayed home tonight.

He could have worked on… something. He could have talked himself into picking up his guitar and pretend everything was okay.

He could pretend that he wasn’t a failure.

He could pretend Ellie was still talking to him.

Instead he was here, the people around him celebrating god knows what, music playing, people dancing and he?

He was hoping to at least get a look at the girl that had become like a daughter to him. The daughter he lost because he lied to her.

Turned out his mother was right, lying was not getting him anywhere.

He hadn’t talked to her in weeks, not getting more than a fleeting look at her from afar like a creepy stalker.

Tommy was right, he needed to give her time.

But somehow he felt like time was running out.

Tommy had been right in a lot of things lately. Something Joel was not used to, still having the irresponsible young man in the back of his mind he had been before outbreak.

But Tommy wasn’t that man anymore.

He was a husband, a father, a respected leader of the little community he had helped build.

And Joel was…. He did not feel like he changed much. He was still angry all the time.

Angry at the world.

Angry at the people.

But most of all angry at himself.

The way he was feeling now? Alone and lonely?

He had no one but himself to blame for it.

It was moments like these that you came to his mind.

You would know what to do. You would know how to fix this mess that he got himself into. You always did. Until he had pushed you away for good, almost six years ago when he got even more involved in the underground in the Boston QZ.

Meeting and falling in love with you had been the only good thing that had happened to him since the outbreak. You had seen him, the real him.

The broken man that was desperate for… something.

That something seemed to be you.

But like every good that happened to him, he managed to fuck this up too. Not at first, but definitely in the end.

And he tried. He tried to become a better person. Tried to become the man you deserved, not listening to you when you told him that he did not have to become a better person.

That you fell for him the way he was. With all flaws he thought he had.

But maybe if he had worked on himself he wouldn’t have reacted so poorly when you told him that you were pregnant.

Maybe he wouldn’t have blamed you and you only, taking the easy way out and telling you he would not go through this again.

He should have talked to you, instead of lashing out, should have told you how fucking scared he was about losing another child. About losing you. About raising a child in this fucked up world. About fucking up.

He did so anyway.

He chose to forget about the whole conversation the two of you had after you told him that you were pregnant and that you were intending to keep it from his mind. Or he tried. God, did he try.

But now, deep in the night, when he was laying awake and alone in bed, only the shadows of the night in his company, the words he spat to hurt you creeped back into his mind, not that they had ever been gone.

I don’t love you.

Get rid of it.

Get out of my life.

I never loved you anyway.

He could still see the way your face crumbled, tears running down your cheeks.

He broke you that night. And he broke himself.

He thought about this last argument, this breakup a lot if he was honest with himself.

He never told you, not in words, how much he loved you. He took you for granted. He shouldn’t have been this surprised to learn that you had left the QZ days after he broke you.

Not a day went by that he wondered what happened to you.

If you were alive.

If you kept the baby.

Would it have your eyes and his hair?

A boy or a girl?

Where they as stubborn as Sarah was?

Did you still love him as much as he still loved you?

Shaking his head he took a sip from the surprisingly good beer someone had offered him when he came here, his eyes wandering through the room, sneaking glances at Ellie who smiled at Dina, deep in conversation with the other girl.

Sucking his bottom lip in, his hand flexing on his side as he tried to find the courage to walk over to Ellie and ask her if they could talk, again, when he heard laughter behind him.

Laughter he heard before, a long time ago.

A laugh he heard in his dreams when his mind allowed him to dream about you instead of the nightmares that plagued him.

Narrowing his eyes he tried to remember why he was hearing that laugh, why that voice that spoke in low tones now, made his heart flutter, when he saw Tommy walk towards him in a fast pace, his face worried.

“Joel,” he said but Joel wasn’t listening to him.

He was busy preparing for a breakdown that was creeping slowly into his body.

Joel’s heart seemed to make the connection before his brain did, heart beating widely in his chest as he slowly turned around, his brother’s hand on his shoulder to keep him for turning. He shrugged it off with a grunt, bracing himself to be let down, that he was finally turning insane and imagining you when his eyes landed on you.

Blinking his eyes in disbelief he released a shaky breath when you were still there.

You were sitting at one of the picnic tables, still as beautiful as he remembered a small smile on your face. A man had his arm wrapped around your back and in your lap sat a girl not older than five who had your eyes and his brown curls.

His heart stopped, he was sure of it.

“She got in yesterday. You were on patrol, I was trying to find you and tell you but….” Joel heard his brother say, but he ignored him.

You were here.

And you were alive.

And you had a girl sitting in your lap that was….

His eyes widened when you leaned back and he saw a little boy sitting in the lap of the man next to you that looked like a mini copy of Joel himself.

His chest felt heavy.

Closing his eyes he tried to take deep breaths, but he just couldn’t.

This was too much.

This hurt too much.

This was the happiest he ever was.

“Joel?” he heard his name from his side, Ellie looking down at him worriedly as he pressed his hand against his chest, his eyes watering.

This was the first time she had talked to him in weeks and it might as well be the last time from the way he felt right now.

He was having a panic attack.

But it felt so much worse than it had ever before.

Looking away from Ellie he turned his head back towards you, finding you now looking at him with wide eyes.

“Deep breaths brother,” a strong arm came to pull him up and his frantic eyes found Tommy’s.

“In and out,” he said, trying to calm down his brother. Joel’s hands grabbed his brothers shoulders. Trying to mimic the way he was breathing but couldn’t.

“Joel?” he heard your voice, his head now turning towards you, finding you looking at him worriedly.

Joel shook his head, dark spots at the corner of his eyes.

“You’re here,” was the last thing he whispered before he passed out.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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permanentswaps · 3 days

Text

Building Each Other Up Pt. 3

Read Pt. 1 here and Pt. 2 here.

Shane’s POV

‘I'm not kidding, Mark. I wanna swap back,’ I angrily texted. I stared at the screen, waiting for the blue bubble to pop up and signal the message had gone through. Instead, my message popped up green with a little red circle saying ‘Not Delivered.’

“Fuck, did that asshole block me?” I muttered to myself, feeling a surge of anger.

It had been almost two weeks since Mark forced me out of my own body and into his, which meant he had been controlling my body full time for almost a month. At first, I thought I could handle it. And despite the bullshit he pulled, I wanted to trust him. But now, it was clear that he was enjoying my life a little too much.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic. It hadn't been the worst experience being in Mark’s body again. I had enjoyed indulging in some cheat foods and cigars I hadn’t been allowing myself, and I still managed to pull girls without much effort (I mean Mark was still a good looking guy). There was even a nostalgic element to being back in his body after so long.

But the bodybuilding competition was tomorrow. I had been working towards this for so long, and the thought of not competing in my own body was infuriating.

Grabbing my phone again, I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. "Damn it, Mark! Answer your fucking phone!" I shouted, slamming it down on the counter.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands," I muttered to myself.

Mark had mentioned earlier this week that he needed to make more of the potion. He said it was a bit of an involved process, but with the competition coming up, he just didn't have the time. I knew better. I'd made the potion with him a few times, and while it was a bit complicated, it didn't take that long. Maybe two to three hours tops.

"Alright," I said to myself. "It doesn't seem like I'm getting any help from him, so I guess I'll just make some on my own."

After rummaging through the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, I found everything I needed. I set up in the kitchen, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and frustration. As I started cooking, memories of the first time we made the potion together came flooding back. We were both so excited about getting me some gains back then.

Following the steps carefully, I mixed the ingredients, heating them just right on the stove. After about two and a half hours, I had a batch of the potion ready. It wasn’t quite the right color – a bit more greenish than usual – but I had followed all the steps correctly.

"Good enough," I said, pouring the potion into a vial.

I made my way over to my apartment, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination. Mark had insisted we go about our routines as normally as possible to avoid raising suspicion, but I knew that if I was going to get my body back, I had to act quickly.

As I approached the door, I fished out the vial of potion from my pocket. "No sense in asking him to swap back if he’s been avoiding me," I muttered to myself. I took a deep breath and downed the potion in one go, the familiar bitter taste washing over my tongue.

I entered the key code and opened the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear movement in the bedroom, the sound of my own footsteps pacing around. Mentally preparing myself, I quietly made my way towards the noise.

I run in there and dive into my back. Except, once inside, I realize immediately that something is wrong. I'm not in control. I'm just a passenger in this body. Panic sets in as I shout in my head, "Mark, you fucker, what did you do?" But there's no reply. Shit, he can't hear me.

I feel myself walk over to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Except it isn't me. It's some random kid. Who the fuck is this, I think to myself.

Not only did I make the potion wrong, I jumped into some random guy. And who the hell is he? Why is he alone in my apartment? My mind races with confusion and dread.

I hear the door open again and watch as my old self – Mark in my body – walks into the room.

"Hey babe," he says, his voice filled with affection as he pulls me in for a tender kiss. I'm shocked, but I can't do anything to resist.

"How was the gym?" I hear my body ask, its voice sounding strangely detached from my own thoughts.

"Oh, great," Mark responds, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I think I'm in great shape for the competition." He flexes his muscles for emphasis. "But I'm still feeling a bit stressed," he adds, smirking at me seductively, walking to the bathroom and quickly indulging in some pump selfies.

I feel myself following him into the bathroom, my body moving on its own accord. I know what’s about to happen Panic sets in as I try to turn off my subconscious, but it's no use, I'm trapped.

I watch as my body turns on the water, and Mark looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Before we get in, I know how much you like my post-workout musk," he says with a smirk.

Despite my internal protests, I also feel a strange sense of anticipation. Mark pulls my head towards his armpit. I take a deep inhale and then begin to lick, finding it surprisingly tolerable. The taste is musky and slightly salty, but not as overpowering as I feared.

Once the shower is nice and steamy, we step in, enveloped in the warmth and the mist swirling around us. My new body takes the lead, its hands gliding over Mark’s – I mean my body’s – skin, caressing every curve and contour with the gentle pressure of the sudsy soap and the softness of the loofah. His muscles relax under my touch, and a contented sigh escapes his lips as I lavish attention on him.

Then, it's Mark's turn to return the favor. My body tries to make itself look as sexy as possible for him.

He turns me around, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he runs the loofah over my skin. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation of his hands caressing me, focusing on the way his fingers linger on my ass.

When he squeezes and playfully slaps my ass, I'm taken aback by the surge of arousal that washes over me. My heart races as I feel myself growing excited at his touch, unable to control the growing heat between my legs.

"Fuck," I feel my voice mutter, the intensity of the moment clearly overwhelming the guy in control of this body. If this didn’t fell so good, I would’ve realized that I’d never felt aroused by another guy when I had controlled Mark’s body

As Mark's hard cock pressed against my eager hole, a jolt of conflicting emotions surged through me. “I can’t be here for this,” I thought to myself, trying and failing again to retreat to my subconscious.

Then, finally, I felt the exhilarating sensation of him entering me.

Despite my initial resistance, a wave of unexpected pleasure washed over me, leaving me stunned by the intensity of the experience.

"Fuck," I thought, momentarily forgetting who I even actually was.

The sensation of being filled by my former cock was overwhelming. I find myself lost in the moment, my body eagerly responding to his every touch and thrust. I can’t deny the pleasure coursing through my veins as he drives into me.

As the pleasure builds to a crescendo, I feel myself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, my mind consumed by the raw intensity of the experience.

“Unghhhh Shane” I hear my voice moan uncontrollably.

That definitely got a reaction out of him. He starts thrusting into me even deeper.

“Wait,” I thought, “he’s not just enjoying this kids admittedly built body … is he getting off on being me?”

“Fuck yeah, keep saying daddy’s name” he replies.

“Fuck me harder Shane,” I hear my voice beg.

Finally, with a guttural groan, Mark reaches his peak, his hot cum flooding into me, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. I feel myself clenching around him, my own release echoing his as we both ride the waves of pleasure to completion.

As we catch our breath, Mark pulls away, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Basking in the physical afterglow, I find myself struggling to come to terms with what just happened.

“That was another great one, babe. Your ass is so incredible,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

“Thanks, babe,” my body responds automatically, a smile forming on my lips as I lean in for another kiss under the warm cascade of water.

I had a million questions still racing around my head – “who is this kid”, “why can’t he hear me”, “how can I get my body back” – but one thought dominates above all others: When can I do that again?

To Be Continued ...

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silken-moonlight · 2 days

Text

Older Alpha x Human Waitress Series (Work title)

Based on this idea.

A/N: This is the very first part of the promised series! I hope that you will enjoy it. The older Alpha will have a name, and there will be some description about Y/N (You), but I will try to leave the reader's description as vague as possible. The first part will be written from Desmond's perspective. Desmonds own introduction will be found here.

Have fun reading!

Swan/Moon

His day had been too fucking long. Not only did Desmond have to travel to another city to be part of some meeting, it had to do with the land his Pack lived on and the land of the neighboring Pack. He drove five hours to reach this city: Greenshaven. It was a fast growing city. Far to noisy for him. These days he prefered the quietness of nature.

It was only the first day of his three week stay and he was already mentally exhausted. Placing more than 6 alphas and their betas into a room was not a good idea. There had been arguing, growling and almost a fight.

So when Desmond finally arrived back at his hotel, he wanted to order something from room service...only to be disappointed. Today, there couldn't be any room service provided due to some problem. He was done; he grabbed his coat and went out, walking around the city to find a restaurant that was still open. It took him some time, and he found a little restaurant near the port. It was both a restaurant and a bar, nothing too fancy. Named: Sailor Boy. Desmond scoffed at the silly name. His werewolf senses cold smell the old oil from the kitchen. However he decided to walk in, purely out of the lack of alternatives.

A young man greeted him, escorted him to a table, and gave him a card. He informed him, "The kitchen will close in twenty minutes, so if you want something to eat, you'd better be quick!" Desmond simply nodded, quickly scanning the menu and deciding on a burger and fries. There wasn't much variety: burgers, salads, fries, and grilled sandwiches. At least they had a big selection of alcohol. He decided on a lemonade and a glass of whiskey. The waiter took his order after a few minutes. The werewolf Alpha was glad that he had found something to eat, though he did not expect much from this restaurant. The interior was in need of some renovation, and that desperately. However, it would be okay for tonight, and maybe the food was good. Taking out his phone to check his texts, his beta just sent him a short report of the day. Also, he asked him how the first meeting was. Desmond typed a short reply, thanking his beta, Isaac, for the report and answered that the first meeting was tense. After that he asked if there were any news of his brother, who had been seen around the city Desmond was in.

His brother was a great concern to him. William was his younger brother and had suffered because of Desmond's parents' favoritism. William had been an accident, not really wanted by his parents. While Desmond had been the golden child, William had been the black sheep. As a child, Desmond hadn't really understood what his parents were doing. That had completely destroyed any bonding between the brothers. As a teenager, William had become a very rebellious and provocative person. No one was safe from his wrath and mischief.

"Good evening. I have your drinks for you." A soft voice said, pulling him from his thoughts. A heavenly smell enveloped Desmond. His gaze snapped up to the woman before him. Something clicked inside of him as he stared at her. His mouth was as dry as sand as he croaked, "Thanks." His heart pounded too fast, and there was a strange itching beneath his skin. A word manifested in his mind and soul: Mate.

The werewolf inside him growled and whined when the young woman walked away again after she set down his drinks. Desmond stared after her. So many thoughts filled his mind at once. Who was she? Was she a wolf, too? Did she feel it, too?

Needs arose at the same time. Desmond was thankful for his self-control. Otherwise, he would have grabbed the girl and given her the mating mark right there in public. Another far more primal need arose in him, one that made his pants far to tight. He cursed internally.

He took a couple of breaths, but it didn't help; her scent lingered, making his mind fuzzy and his thoughts dirtier. His eyes drifted toward her. She was so beautiful, so pretty, so adorable. Suddenly, the depth and responsibility of this situation hit him...He could smell that she was just a human and not a wolf. That meant this all would be more difficult. He couldn't just walk up to her, throw her over his shoulder, and take her home. There were werewolves, especially alphas, who had done that with their human mates, and it never ended well. Desmond wanted her to like him, to love him. Quickly He texted Isaac the news.

Alpha Desmond: I have a Problem. I just found my mate. A human woman.

Beta Isaac: Thats great news! You deserve it!

Alpha Desmond: Its not that easy. How am I supposed to...do this.

Beta Isaac: Well, try to flirt with her? I don't know but I will ask Jordan tomorrow. Enjoy your time with your mate!

Jordan was the only other wolf in the pack who had found their mate. Mates were rare, something that didn't happen that often. Mate bonds were complicated, especially now. Desmond could feel how hot he grew, how he wanted her already. Gods, this would be the greatest challenge in self-control he would ever have to take...Once again she returned with the food tray for him. Desmond's eyes almost rolled back in his head when she walked to him. Her hips swayed slightly, he was hyper aware of how her breasts moved, the curve of her neck and the polite smile on her pink lips. "Here you go, have a nice meal." She said kindly and their gazes met.

Those beautiful eyes will haunt his dreams from this day on. Desmond ate slowly, watching her the whole time. Since there were not many guests, she talked to her coworker. The young man who took his order. Desmond guessed his mate to be in her twenties, he cursed again, he was almost forty. It surely would seem strange if he would flirt with her too much.

When he was finished, she came to him to take his empty plates. Desmond spoke up, his voice smoother and deeper than usual: "I am sorry for being so curt and rude earlier. I just had a rough day." His mate met his eyes, an honest smile on her plump lips now. "Oh, don't worry about that. I absolutely didn't take it personally. Also, I don't know what is happening in the guests' personal lives or why they don't feel talkative." She answered. Desmond was already in awe with her, such a sweet answer....She will fit perfectly into his Pack...

"That's really kind of you. I had to travel here from another city for a business trip. The first meeting was...a fight of wolves." He said to her and it made her chuckle. "Sounds like you've had enough already." His mate said. He nodded: "I had enough before it even started." This made her laugh, and internally he rejoiced. They had a similar sense of humor. She was perfect, and he already began to relax in her presence. How long had it been since he had been calm and relaxed? Once again she walked away, brining away the plates.

Desmond stayed until they closed, his heightened senses allowing him to listen to her conversations. Her name was Y/N, and she was a server here who seemed to still live with her parents. She didn't like the pop music they played in the restaurant. Atleast that were the few things he had heared from his seat.

The Alpha had to leave eventually, leaving a big tip. He would definekty return tomorrow as soon as he could. The werewolf needed to be near his mate, but he wanted to do it the right way. The slow way. Even as his cock ached. As soon as he was back in his hotel he jerked of to the thought of his loveley little human....

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unheavenlyvision · 2 days

Text

SLEEP OVER PT.1

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 2.3k

summary: staying the night at your boyfriends place for the first time is nervewracking, especially when he seems to feel a certain way about you wearing his clothes

a/n; dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf...uhm anyways...i lurv toji a lot and i needed to write something for him, i thought it would fix me but it may have made me worse :D also, i would like to write a part 2 for this maybe :3

warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, tiny bit of possessiveness, (minor) size difference kink, heavy petting, dry humping, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, nicknames used; doll, ma'am (once in a joking way)

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Hovering in Toji’s kitchen, you try to make yourself seem more relaxed, you’ve been in his house plenty of times now but this time is different. This is the first time you’re staying the night, alone, in his house, with him.

Besides heavy petting, nothing more has ever happened between the two of you, to say you have expectations is an understatement. It doesn’t have to happen but you’ve been together for a little bit now and there’s only so long you can hold out, you mean, have you seen Toji?

He’s been patient, you were initially the one who said you didn’t want to rush things, you were scared of just being a lay and asked him to wait until you felt ready, which he has respected. He’s respected it…too well, barely making out before he’s parting from you. The sexual frustration you’ve been feeling has you wound so tight that you might literally implode as soon as he touches you.

From across the counter separating you, he teases, “You gonna help me over here? Or did you propose baking together just to watch me do it for you?”

“Well… I am enjoying the view,” you flirt back, playing off the stiffness in your joints.

He raises a brow at you, “How about you flirt with me while whisking that bowl right there,” he nods down to the bowl just off to his side.

“Yessir,” you stand at attention and throw a little salute his way.

When you round the bench to stand next to him, he bumps into your shoulder with his own, “You feeling okay, doll?”

You hum and look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, aside from small talk and teasing remarks made while you finish prepping the ingredients. You told him that sleepovers needed brownies and he went out and bought stuff to make them, it was incredibly sweet and made you almost swoon on the spot when you showed up and he told you what he’d done.

Unluckily for you and your clumsy nature, his sink sprays a bunch of water down your front as you’re washing a dish. You let out an unceremonious squeaking sound at the sudden rush of cold running all the way down your pyjama shirt, to your pants.

The bowl Toji was holding clatters a bit as he drops it to be at your side, “What happened?” He asks before seeing your drenched clothes, an amused smile taking place where his concern was sitting, “You’re not much help in the kitchen, huh?”

“Hey!” you frown at him, “I am perfectly helpful, thank you very much. It’s not my fault your sink hates me.” You feel like a wet cat under his gaze, “What am I meant to do now? These are the only pyjamas I bought with me,” you pout slightly, looking down at your ruined clothes.

“Just wear something of mine,” he shrugs easily.

The idea of wearing his comfortable clothes makes your skin buzz, “Okay… thank you,” you mumble at him.

He scoffs at your sudden coyness, “You want me to pick something out for you or do you got it?”

“No, I got it,” you smile at him before turning to wander through the house to his room.

Shuffling through his drawers, you find a shirt and some sweatpants to wear. They’re large on you, the whole look incredibly baggy, having to pull the drawstrings on his sweats a bit tighter to make sure they stay up. You feel better though, warm, you hope he won’t mind but you had to borrow a pair of his boxers as well…

When you walk back into the kitchen, Toji does a double take on you, his eyes widening slightly, “You comfy?”

“Very,” you walk up to him, “You finish with the brownie mix?”

He stares at you for a moment before replying, “…Yeah, they’re in the oven.”

“Nice, putting the mix in the tray is my least favourite part, it’s always so sticky and messy and I end up getting frustrated because it won’t all go in and then I need another spoon to get the mix off the spatula and then I have to go back and forth…” You trail off, noticing he’s not really paying attention to what you’re saying, he is looking at you though, “Toji, Something wrong?”

He considers you for a moment, “You look cute,” is all he says.

You feel shy under his gaze now, not expecting him to compliment you so sincerely, “So do you?”

He barks a laugh at your clumsy compliment, “Alright, wanna watch something while we wait?” He changes the topic.

“Sure!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles but just because he’s not subtle doesn’t mean it’s not working. The tv plays some movie in front of the pair of you but you can’t pay attention, you’ve not retained a single plot point, his warm hand on your thigh is all you can feel, all you can register.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to be the one to break this, the weird limbo you’re both in. Turning your head to the side and looking up, you aren’t ready for how he’s already looking down at you, his hand on your thigh reaches for the side of your face, cradling you gently. He moves in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back in protest if you don’t want him to kiss you.

You want it though and lean up the rest of the way, kissing him deeply, wanting to put your lips on him for nearly the whole time you’ve been here. He meets your eagerness, his hand holding you more firmly, his tongue licking into your mouth, wanting to taste you. His body moves into yours more, his other hand grabbing at your hip.

His kisses grow rushed and he ends up trailing them to your neck, kissing and licking along the exposed skin there. The hand on your face angles you to his will, manoeuvring you every which way so he can get his lips on whatever part of you he desires.

Huffed out whine leave you at the way he nips at your skin, he has enough of the odd angle and pulls you onto his lap completely, sitting back as his hands roam your body over his clothes.

“Toji,” you whine out his name.

His eyes look into yours, “Do you need me to stop?”

Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I need more…”

“You really do look cute in my clothes,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing a full kiss to your lips, “You look comfortable… all wrapped up in my clothes.” He reiterates that they are in fact his clothes you’re wearing.

His hands move under the large shirt, groping at your bare skin, delighting in the warmth and plushness of you. Your body breaks out in goose bumps as a noticeable shiver runs down your spine, his touch electrifying to you.

“My, how sensitive you are,” he teases you, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face.

“Shut up,” you snark back, “Just… kiss me again?”

His smile grows, “Yes ma’am,” he jokes before kissing you again.

You’re getting lost in it, in the feel of his lips on yours, it’s making you dizzy and needy. Your hips grind down into his on their own accord and Toji moans against you, surprised by the sudden friction. Recovering quickly, his hands grab your hips and encourage you to keep going, your clothed cunt dragging up and down his covered cock has spots in your vision.

Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt tight, your lips disconnecting from his every time you moan, only for him to press them back together. His dick twitches in his pants, painfully erect and sensitive, he has a feeling he could cum like this.

This is the furthest the two of you have gone so far and he’s not wasting this opportunity, he needs to see you cum, he needs to hear it. The grip he has on you is harsh, his hips rut up into yours which results in the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard coming from you… he needs more.

Pulling back, you whinge, “Toji~ I wan– t more… I want more.”

“Well… I want you to cum while wearing my clothes,” he counters.

You gasp at his blunt words, “I–”

You don’t get the chance to finish your thought, his hips thrusting up, the shock delicious. His dick is leaking profusely in his pants, he’s way too sensitive right now, for his grown age. You’d asked to go slow and he complied but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to furiously jerk himself off after your visits.

Toji’s boxers are uncomfortably wet against your core, slick and stuck to your pussy with how worked up he’s gotten you. All the layers are upsetting you; you just want one less layer, his pants, your pants, you don’t care, you just need more.

“Toji, lemme take off the sweats, please, please, please,” you all but beg at him.

“No. Told you,” he scolds, “I want you cumming in my clothes.”

“Mmm but…” You hesitate.

You’ve caught his interest, quirking a brow at you, he asks, “But what?”

You decide to tell him even though you’re a little embarrassed, “I’m also wearing your boxers.”

He holds you still against him, a sound of objection coming from you at the lack of friction, “You’re wearing my boxers?”

You nod quickly, hoping for this line of questioning to be done soon, “I am.”

“Why?”

You look down, to where you’re sat on top of him, his large cock strained against his pants, you falter slightly in your answer, distracted. Toji’s hand tapping against your thigh brings you back, “Mine were wet from the sink…”

He tugs at the sweats, “Take these off, right now.”

Standing on wobbly legs, you undo the drawstring on his pants and slip them down.

Toji groans at the sight of your bare legs, “Lift up my shirt,” he directs.

Which you do, biting your lip, trying to fight off the urge to run away in embarrassment. Your hands hold his shirt up slightly, exposing to him how you’re wearing his boxers.

His eyes scan your lower half carefully, his heart stuttering in is chest. His light grey boxers dark where your arousal has pooled, “Fuck, come here,” he pats his lap, grabbing you when you’re close enough. “You’re so fucking wet, doll, shit.”

When you’re back on his lap, he wastes no time, his cock rubs between your folds, parting them from under his boxers, the friction different and consuming. This feels so much better than before, it feels almost intense after getting minimal sensation.

“Toji~ I don’t think I’ll last long like this,” you admit, feeling shame from how pathetic you must seem.

“Good,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into yours while his hands drag you back and forth on his cock, “I won’t either.”

To hear he’s just as effected by this as you are makes your cunt pulse around nothing, a whimper leaving you from how pathetically empty you feel, “I still want more,” you pout.

“Later,” he promises.

Your skin buzzes and your stomach clenches, your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling impossibly close to finishing. Your eyes grow dazed, hot, huffed breaths leaving your parted lips. The sight has Toji’s cock twitching profusely, barely fighting off his orgasm, wanting to see you cum first.

“Come on, doll, I need to see it,” he tugs you quicker, your slick cunt sliding easily against his pants, the wetness seeping through the boxers onto them, “I need to see you cum for me.”

You shudder at his words, “I’m gonna–”

One of his hands leave your hip and slides to your face, his thumb pressing past your lips, you take it and suck on it, tongue licking the pad of it gently. A moan from deep in his chest rumbles under your hands, it’s all too much. Your cunt flutters against him and your eyes roll back, moans muffled around his thumb as your cum gushes from your pussy, coating his boxers even more.

Toji can’t help but watch, he’s watching you so closely, his cock cumming very suddenly. Your orgasm, the dumb look in your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, the shake in your body as you cum in his clothes undoes him. His own cum seeps into his pants, a large, wet stain growing on his sweats as his dick jerks with his orgasm.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging your lower lip down with it, “Fuck,” he bites out.

He rides out both your highs, lightly grinding his hips up into you as you both come down. Your form collapses into him, curling yourself around him. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you jolt every now and again, it’s cute, he thinks.

You lay peacefully like this for a moment before you remember, “The brownies,” you try to pull yourself away from him.

“They’re fine, oven went off only a moment ago,” he hums.

“I’ll go grab them then,” you say.

“Alright, shaky, off you go,” he mocks you and your jelly legs.

Pulling back, you frown at him, “I will.”

He just smiles knowingly at you.

Crawling off him carefully, you stand on your shaky legs momentarily before sitting back down on the couch next to him, “Maybe you should go get them.”

“Mhm,” he answers, leaning over he presses a kiss to your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him, pretending to be more upset than you actually are.

Toji goes into the kitchen and pulls the brownies out, he calls over to you, “So… I hope you like the corners of your brownies a little crispy.”

You can’t help but laugh at that.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

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g1rld1ary · 3 days

Text

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Padfoot, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

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claypgeons · 8 hours

Text

resting mean face | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x driver!reader

summary: you have a resting mean face, it makes everyone think you hate them.

authors note: i did not know instagram had a limit on how many pictures one could use until now :( comments make my day and really motivated, so they are always appreciated, enjoy :)

liked by 65,736 others!

user1: not ready for the hate this beautiful nerdy girl is about to get from f1 fans 😖

view comments below !

user2: NO LITERALLYYYYYY

user3: it feels like yesterday i was defending y/n from crazy f2 fans now i have to do it AGAIN ??

user4: i’m confused

user5: let me explain! y/n has an incredible resting mean face. like if you didn’t know you, you would 100% assume she hates you. BUT DONT LET THIS TRICK YOU, she is so incredibly nice.

user5: her face tend to make fans think that’s she’s mean and she just hates everyone, so when ever she moves up on racing, all the new people immediately send her so much hate ?? because they just assume that she’s a bitch 😖

user6: i’m not ready

user7: first year as a y/n fan and i’m ready to go to WAR FOR HER

user8: it’s even worse because she’s shy and won’t speak unless spoken too 😞

user9: they just don’t understand her like we do 😞

user10: i remember people saying y/n was cold hearted?? AND I WAS LIKE WHATTT ??? the woman who stood out in the pouring rain holding umbrellas up for interviewers COLDHEARTED ??

— y/n has posted a new story!

[first day kinda nervous]

user11: y/n pls make sure to smile!

user12: smile !!

user13: hope you have fun !!

liked by 26,637 others!

f1gossip: y/n l/n makes her official debut as a ferrari driver today!

view comments below!

user14: could she look anymore bored ??

user15: maybe she should try smiling

user16: she seems arrogant

user17: it’s happening…y/n protectors get ready

user18: so proud of y/n !!

user19: she looks like she hates it there

— y/n has posted new pictures!

liked by, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, danielricardo, and 587,827 others!

yourusername: oh how i love racing

view comments below!

user20: YOU KILLED IT Y/N

user21: SO PROUD OF YOU ❤️❤️

user22: i’m here to protect my girl

user23: maybe you should try looking a little happier 😁

user24: maybe you should try hanging yourself 😁

user25: y/n as much as i love you..what did you say to make charles so scared 😭

user26: I WAS THERE!! literally all she said was “hello!it’s nice to meet you…” but she did say it with the most emotionless face ever so…

f1gossip: ferrari driver y/n l/n and charles leclerc were caught late last night, thoughts?

view comments below!

user27: OH

user28: they’re teammates ?? are they not allowed to hang out or what

user29: okay i ship

user30: OH SHES SMILING 😞😞

user31: YES Y/N YOU GO GIRL !!

user32: he went from being scared shitless of her, too making her laugh

user33: that’s MY girl

user34: white man did it in one week 😞

allaboutf1: charles leclerc on his new teammate y/n l/n: “she’s truly a gem. i will admit that i was scared of her at first. but she’s amazing. truly.”

view comments below!

user34: oh he’s in love, love

user35: yeah he’s gone

user36: it only took y/n two months to get him wrapped around her finger

user37: “i was scared of her at first.” OH WE KNOW. WE COULD TELL.

user38: THAT SHOULD BE ME

user39: ugh just get together already !!

user40: at this point literally just propose

user41: he’s down bad

user42: now let’s see how long it take for them to get together

355 notes · View notes

loserdiaz · 2 days

Text

I've been listening to the prophecy by taylor and i have thoughts, so bare with me on this one.

some people might look at this thing like a superpower, like something cool to trick people with or scare the shit out of them.

tommy thinks of it more as a curse than anything else. a punishment from above— maybe he's done awful, terrible things in some pasts lives and now he's paying the consequences.

truth is, he doesn't know. he can guess, can try to feel his way through the dark like a lost, blind man, but he's probably never gonna know why he is the way he is, why he can see the things he sees.

it started around the time he was nine, he thinks. when he went to hug her grandma, and suddenly he had this vision— like a short movie playing in his head, of how his grandma would die.

tommy hugged her and then there it was in his mind, he could hear her heartbeat and saw her laying in bed, so calm and at peace in her sleep, when her heart slowly stops.

tommy remembers crying out, screaming, pulling away from her in fear, much to the confusion of everyone in his family. his grandma was okay! she was right there! no one believed him when he told them what he saw, what he felt.

(nana june died that very night, in her sleep. just like tommy predicted.)

tommy realized pretty quickly that this was not something he could share with anyone else. not when he ran into his teacher at the grocery store three weeks later and saw how the woman would die in a tragic car crash in just a couple of weeks. not when he kissed a boy for the very first time when he was sixteen and saw he would die from a freak accident at a football game, of all places— a fatal hit to the head would be the end of a life cut too short.

his life became a swirl of death and fear and loneliness.

he pulled away from everyone. what was the point anyway? if he knew the end of their stories? why get atta hed, get close, when he knew the specific details of their deaths and would have to bare that weight on his shoukders all on his own?

(he made the mistake once of falling in love when he was in college. with matthew— a guy who would die of old age, at ninety-five years old. at home, holding the hand of his husband... that was definitely noy tommy.

it was okay. he figured he could have some fun and enjoy whatever time he could. but it only earned him a broken heart and matthew calling him a freak when tommy explained why he couldn't say i love you to him, why he couldn't truly commit.

he has trusted matthew with his deepest secret, with this curse that tommy has no other choice but to live with it. and it ended up in tears and half the campus thinking he was a psycho.)

since then, tommy vowed to never make that mistake again. to keep his distance with people.

and he's been successful, for the most part. he has some friends, of course, but he doesn't let his relationships get too deep, keeping everyone at arm's length.

it's for the best, really.

and he's... not happy, but content. maybe. comfortable.

until evan buckley comes crashing into his life, figuratively and literally speaking.

the guy is— adorable.

tommy has no other word to describe him.

evan is energetic and enthusiastic, passionate about every single thing he says and does. he's reckless and loud and everything's tommy has soent a lifetime running away from.

when buck touches him for the first time, it sends electricity to every one of his nerves. it's intoxicating and amazing and warm, and tommy never wants it to end.

then, the curse kicks in. a little later than usual— as if mocking tommy, almost. teasing him with a tiny taste of what normal looks like and then reminding him he can never have it, not for real.

the first time buck touches him, it's at chimney's wedding— he's drunk and sweaty, cheeks pink and flushed and a boyish smile plastered on his face. he practically draps himself next to tommy's side, leans all his weight against him as he hums the lyrics of the song plahing in the background out of tune.

it's fun and heavenly for a couple of seconds, until tommy gets the vision.

buck in a month, maybe a month and a half. hanging from the firetruck ladder as the sky falls around him, lightning striking him right in the chest and making his heart stop.

#idk what this is tbh #im probably gonna keep writing it tho #maybe(????#evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #bucktommy #kinkley #bucktommy fic #bucktommy wip #911 fic #911fic #911 wip #911 abc #911 on abc #april rambles #my writing #april writes

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cowboylikelyric · 2 days

Text

too much wine

Summary: Camilla and Fallon's girls night takes a steamy turn as they discuss relationships and desires over wine. With Camilla's guidance, Fallon explores her attraction to women, leading to a passionate encounter witnessed by Camilla's fiancé, Harry. Their night of passion brings them closer together, blurring boundaries and igniting newfound desires.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, threesome, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, voyeurism

A/N: hi guys! this is my first time posting one of my oneshots EVER! so please be kind and if you don't like it, don't read it! please let me know your thoughts!

---

Camilla had too much wine. She knew it for a fact. She also knew that Fallon had far too much wine.

Tonight was girls night, so Harry had been booted out of the house while Cami and Fallon had their glasses of wine, watched Jeopardy, and gossiped. Tonight was white wine with a side of sex talk.

“You’ve just gotta guide them. If he can’t eat you out now, he’ll never be able to eat you out if you don’t teach him.” She took a sip of her wine. “Talking Harry through it worked like a charm. He's a pro now.”

When she and Harry had first gotten together in college, he was a little… rusty. But he was always really good at taking constructive criticism and applying. Now she was getting what she wanted when she wanted and they were both in this so-called heaven.

“Ugh, I guess.” Fallon fell back on the couch, almost spilling her wine. “It’s so conflicting because Cody’s such a wonderful guy, he just gets so lost and it's frustrating.”

“Like i said, you gotta be a teacher.” Camilla nudges Fallon's shoulder, “Miss. Parker.” They both giggle and focus back to Jeopardy.

On the show, they read, “The chapstick Katy Perry tastes in her single, I Kissed A Girl.”

Fallon shouts, “What is cherry?!” Eventually, one of the players on the show also answers, earning 300 points. She sighs. “Maybe I should just switch directions.”

Cami's head spins, “What?”

“Ya know, tryout for the other team.” Fallon shrugs.

“Yeah, I got it. but, I mean… are you serious?” Camilla wasn’t being judgmental at all, she had dipped her toes before. College was the time for experimenting and things of that nature, so she took the opportunities presented.

“It wouldn’t hurt, woman anatomy and all that.” Camilla raises her brow at fallon. She huffs. “I’m just saying the a womans gonna know how to eat me out for gods fucking sakes.”

Camilla was stunned at the frustrated girl sitting in front of her. But then their eyes met, and suddenly Cami understood. They had way too much wine. Definitely.

Cam shifted towards Fallon, resting her hand on her thigh over her flannel pj shorts. “Take a deep breath.” She rubbed her hand up and down. “So frustrated.” She taunted and felt as Fallon shivered. Camilla traced her finger up the inside of her thigh.

“Cam…” Fallon whispers.

“this is what you want, yeah?” Fallon nods her head insistently, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Cody hasn’t been doing his job, has he?” She shakes her head. but something flashes in Fallon's eyes and she grabs her wrist.

“Harry,” is all Fallon can mutter.

Camilla was confident this wouldn’t bother Harry. They weren’t insecure in their sex lives together. They had been engaged for almost a year, but still loved to wade in the water of others. And Harry loved it. But the thing he loved the most was seeing the girl he loved being absolutely devoured with pleasure. So nothing about this situation scared her. She would tell him as soon as he got home and he would get that dark look in his eyes and take her to their bedroom. The only thing they didn’t do with others was kiss them. That was something only for them.

“Shh, it's okay.” Camilla lowered to her knees in front of the couch. “Now how about I get to my job?”

She lifted Fallon's shirt and kissed down her soft stomach and the hem of her shorts. Fallon’s breath trembles the closer she gets.

Camilla dips her fingers underneath the waistband of both her shorts and her panties. She brought them down just a touch before kissing her way down to the apex of her thighs.

Fallon took in the sight of absolute hunger on Camilla’s face while Camilla couldn’t stop admiring Fallon's pretty pussy. Cam brought her finger forward and swiped it down through the bits of hair on her pubic bone to the wetness of her eager cunt.

“Please.” Fallon whimpered.

“Please what?” Camilla hummed.

“Please, need you.” Fallon thrust her hips forward needily, just begging for the touch of Camilla. That was all Cam needed to dive forward and plant her mouth on Fallon's pussy.

Fallon squeezed her eyes shut and let out a shaky moan as she kitten licked at her arousal. Camilla wrapped her lips and tongue around her clit, sucking at it before flicking her tongue.

“Mmm, so sweet, Fal.” Cam tucked herself in further, using her tongue to fuck Fallon’s cunt and her nose to nudge at her clit. “How could Cody not devour something that tastes so good.”

“Fuck” Fallon ran her fingers through Camilla’s hair, tugging at it. Cam groaned into her pussy, sending vibrations through her. “More, please.” She begged.

Cami pulled herself away, “You want my fingers?” She nodded feverishly. “Maybe if you were this mouthy with Cody, he’d give you what you want.” But still, Camilla ran her fingers through her arousal and fed her one finger.

“Holy shit,'' Fallon keels over, her chin to her chest. Her head feels like it's spinning with the way Camilla precisely tongues at her versus the way Cody blindly dips in.

While Camilla only buried herself deeper, Fallon heard the click of the apartment door and looked up to see Harry entering the living room. She let out an involuntary gasp as Camilla teethed at her clit, completely unaware of her fiancé’s entrance.

Harry felt a desire bubble in his abdomen at the sight in front of him. He leant against the doorway to the living room, keeping eye contact with Fallon, a stoic look on his face.

Camilla had no idea of his entrance, and if she did, she had no plan of stopping. As she added another finger, her stamina had Harry stiffening in his pants and biting the inside of his cheek.

Fallon’s abs clenched as she felt herself tiptoe to the edge of her orgasm, especially being watched over by Harry. She lifted her finger tips to her tits, kneading them while also grinding her cunt into camis face.

“Oh, just like that,” Fallon pushed her face against her, “Fuck”

“Come for me” Camilla mutters against her pussy, shaking her from side to side, her nose nudging her clit even more.

Fallon started to see white as her orgasm took over her entire body. For the first time since Harry walked in, Fallon took her sights off Harry and closed her eyes in pleasure.

As Fallon slowly came down from her high, Camilla pulled her head away from her pussy, chin dripping in her juices. Harry felt himself twitch in his pants at the pure desire in her eyes.

Suddenly, Harry began a slow clap and watched as Cami finally realized his presence, previously drowning in her work.

“Hi baby” Camilla says to Harry, with a sickening smile, arousal still dripping from her face. Harry slowly inched forward, approaching Cam.

“Hello, darling” Harry grabs her face, pulling it upward and off her knees, onto her feet in front of him. “Have fun with girls night?” Harry starts licking Fallon's cum off Cami’s face, making Fallon shiver as she watches.

“Mm yeah” Camilla hums, “loads”

He pulls away from her face “Have a sweet treat?” He caresses the side of her face, running his fingers through Camilla's hair. She nods.

“Was real tasty” She leans up on her tiptoes and smashes her lips against his, both of them acting as if Fallon was not even in the room.

He hums on her lips, pulling away. “Can taste it on your tongue,” He grabs her chin forcefully, making Camilla look at him. “Was she good for you?”

Camilla smirks then looks at Fallon “The best.”

Fallon starts breathing heavily as they stare at her.

Camilla nods to Fallon, “You gonna show him how much of a good girl you are?” Fallon bites her lip, slowly nodding.

“Go on,” Harry says to Fallon, “Touch yourself for me”

Harry and Cami held each other as they watched Fallon slide a hand down her body, slowly making it to her soaked folds. Cami got on her tiptoes again and began to kiss and nip at Harry's neck as he watched Fallon.

“Gimme a peek,” Harry said and fallon slid two fingers between her lips, spreading them for Harry to see. “Mmm,” he hummed, “Such a pretty pussy baby.” He grabbed Camilla’s hips tight as she continued to kiss his neck. He turned to Camilla, “You just can't wait, can you, baby?”

Cam shook her head, “No,” She leaned up and bit his bottom lip, “Need you now. Fallon got me so wet.”

Harry shook his head, feigning disappointment, “Such a needy slut.” He pushed his hand past the waistband of her pants, beginning to rub her clit over her panties.

He looked back to Fallon, nodding her on. “Touch yourself while I touch Camilla.” Harry watched as Fallon ran her fingers up and down her folds. Fallon had never been more aroused in her life, she was practically dripping onto the couch.

Camilla moaned into Harry's ear, Harry's cock twitching behind his zipper. While he watched Fallon, he blindly tugged at Camillas' pants. She kicked them down her legs, and Harry turned his attention back to Camilla.

Smashing his lips against hers, he brought his fingers to her sopping pussy, dragging them up and down her folds.

“Want my fingers baby?” Harry asked. Cami was quick with a high pitched ‘mhm,’ already grinding against his hand.

Slowly, he fed one finger into her cunt, fucking it in and out. Then he peered over to see Fallon mimicking his actions on herself.

“Look at you,” Harry mocked, “so pathetic and needy” That didn’t even come close to stopping Fallon, in fact, it made her go faster.

Camilla was a mess at the way he was speaking to her and Fallon. She was begging for more from him.

“Want me to fuck you?” Harry taunted Camilla. She nodded feverishly. “Course you do, you little slut.”

Harry brought them both down to the floor as Fallon continued to fuck herself. He popped the button to his jeans open and ripped his shirt off over his head. Camilla dragged her nails down his abdomen, Harry letting out a moan at the pain.

Fallon was turned on beyond belief, watching how in tune the couple was with each other.

Harry pulled himself from his briefs, sighing in relief. Fallon's eyes widened at the size of his cock, not believing her eyes.

He gave himself a few strokes as Camilla removed her shirt and showcased her tits, pushing them together, accentuating their fullness.

“Fuck, darling,” Harry moans and Fallon watches as his fist tightens around his dick. Camilla reaches down to rub her clit at the sight of her fiance, melting at her fingertips.

“Please” Cam whimpers, pulling at Harry's hips, trying to get him closer.

Harry turns to fallon who is writhing on the couch. “Gonna watch me fuck Camilla?”

“Yes, yes!” Fallon bent her knees and placed her feet flat on the couch, giving him a better view.

“Good girl” He turned back to Camilla, swiping his cock up and down her pussy, his tip circling her clit. “Ready for me to stretch this pussy baby?” He whispered.

“Mhm” Camilla hummed, looking up at him with this look that made Fallon's stomach turn.

Harry slowly inched his cock inside of her, Camilla moaning at the stretch, Harry moaning at the hug of her cunt.

“Ooh, shit,” Camilla wrapped her legs around Harry's waist and arms around his back, his cock reaching deeper.

“So wet,” He pulled his hips back, slamming his cock back into her. “Who got you this wet?”

Camilla got this smirk on her face before she answered, “Fallon”

This made Fallon gasp, throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut, that is until she hears Harry say “Open your fucking eyes, Fallon”

When Fallon opened her eyes, Harry wasn’t even paying attention to her, but she obeyed his wish.

“Fallon got you this wet?” Harry wrapped his hand around Camilla's throat.

“Ye- yes” She could barely spit out the word between moans. Harry presses his thumb against her clit, halting his hips from their thrusts.

“Then why isn’t she fucking you right now?” Camilla whined at the loss, clawing at his biceps.

“Harry…” She begged.

“If you want me to fuck you then tell me the truth.” Camilla squirmed at the pressure he had on her clit, no longer being able to take it.

“You! You did!” Harry smirked at her confession, looking over at Fallon as he continued to pound into Camilla.

“Damn right I did.'' Harry leaned down to take Camilla's nipples in his mouth giving them equal attention, all while holding eye contact with Fallon.

Fallon was falling apart, her legs trembling at the energy in the room and the punch of her fingers to her g-spot. She wasn’t worried about what her and Camilla's friendship would look like after this, all she could comprehend was the metaphorical mountain she was climbing to her high.

Harry pulls out of Camilla, flipping her around and slapping her ass before entering her from behind.

“God, I love this pussy” Harry had a strong hold on her hips, his balls tapping her ass as he pounded into her. “‘s all mine, isn't it? All mine to fuck and use.”

“Yes, all yours, Harry” Fallon watched as Camilla drooled onto the floor as she backed her ass onto him.

“Who?” Harry spanked her.

Camilla moaned, “You,” He spanked her again, “Daddy”

That sent Fallon over the edge, screaming as she clenched around her fingers.

Harry's head snapped to her, his brows furrowed. “Did I say you could come?”

“N-no” Her thighs shook, abs clenching as she rode through her high.

Harry shook his head as he quickly pulled out of Camilla again, Camilla rubbing her clit to ease the emptiness. Harry stalked over toFfallon, grabbing her face as he stood in front of her. He grabbed his cock, still sticky with his and Camilla's arousal, slapping Fallon's cheek with it. He pushes his tip against her lips.

“Suck it, slut” Fallon wrapped her lips around his tip while Harry held his cock at the base. She sucked lightly, making Harry groan. With his opposite hand, he threaded his fingers into her hair and slowly pushed her further.

“He really likes when you take him to your throat, Fal,” Camilla commented as she pushed a finger in her entrance, “Then you swallow around him”

And so Fallon did. She followed the push of his hand on the back of her head until his cock poked at the back of her throat.

“Just like that, fuck-“ Harry moaned as Fallon gagged around him. His jaw dropped to his chest, abs clenching, before he pulled his dick from her mouth, a strand of spit connecting the two.

Harry returned to Camilla, admiring the sight if her grabbing at her tits and fucking her fingers.

“There's my pretty baby” He grabbed her face and smashed his lips against hers. she took his cock and pressed it against her opening, letting him push back into her.

Harry felt how Camilla immediately clenched around him as he pushed into her.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He pounded into her faster than before, her nails digging into the muscles of his back.

“Yes daddy!” She shouted “Please don’t stop, please.” She lifted her hips to meet his every thrust.

“Let go, baby,” Harry whispered as he lifted her calf to his shoulder, “Give it to me”

Camilla felt the tingle in her spine explode as Harry slipped even deeper than before. She clenched around his cock and threw her head back, Harry quickly laying his hand between her head and the wooden floor.

Harry's thrusts started to lose rhythm, pleasure starting to cloud his brain.

“Cum in me, daddy,” Camilla whimpered, “Please”

Harry lost it, growling, “Fuck, gonna give you my cum, baby.” His legs trembled as he shot ropes of cum into her pussy. “Take it, take it all.” He moaned beside her ear, burying his head in her neck.

Fallon’s heart was beating fast as she watched him unravel in front of her, wondering how the hell she was gonna fuck Cody after this.

Everyone sat quietly in the living room, aside from the deep breaths as everyone settled from their orgasms.

Harry starts to chuckle into Cami's neck as they all sit quiet.

“You guys should invite me to girls night more often”

149 notes · View notes

bookyeom · 11 hours

Text

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 2.8k warnings: a couple of swears, Seungkwan’s not mad he’s disappointed, kissing

Author's Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it's not necessary.

hype boy by new jeans

i know what you like boy you’re my chemical hype boy

i’m not looking for just fun maybe I could be the one

You don’t know why you called him.

Well, you do know why, but even in your inebriated state, you still vaguely know that you probably shouldn’t have.

You haven’t seen Seungkwan in over a week. He looks mad when he enters the bar to find you, and you know you deserve it. When he opens his car door and helps you in, you expect him to start lecturing you, to complain about your lack of responses to his texts and calls, anything — but he doesn’t say a single word.

That makes it so much worse.

When he’s annoyed, your friend can complain for hours (when Chan ate the last of his yogurt just last week, you hadn’t heard the end of it for days). But when Boo Seungkwan is genuinely hurt and angry about something serious, he stays eerily quiet. You’ve seen it happen, but you’ve never, ever been on the receiving end of his silent treatment before.

And it terrifies you.

After you’ve climbed into his passenger seat as gracefully as you can manage, you can’t help but stare at him while he reaches to do up your seatbelt. He’s always been soft like that with you — doting, caring, kind. This time, you don’t think you deserve it. You know you’ve really hurt him, but the alcohol mixing up your brain can’t figure out how to fix any of it right now.

“Can you please sit still, I swear to god—”

You barely hear him with how hard you’re staring. You dazedly note that his hair has gotten a bit longer at the ends. It falls softly into his eyes as he huffs at you, trying his best to shake the strands away so he can see while his hands are busy trying to clasp your belt in. You hate when he’s struggling, and he’s pouting now, and that just won’t do —

So you lift a hand to help him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, and it takes you a second to realize that he’s stopped moving. You meet his gaze, your hand falling to brush over the soft roundness of his cheek.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper, and you think you hear his breath catch, but you don’t know why. You only said it because it’s true. Because you wanted him to hear it.

You also want to kiss him — so you do. Even though you think he might hate you right now.

It’s barely there, a soft press of your mouth to his, and you pull away before he can react. He stares at you, mouth open just a little, and your eyes are wide as you stare back.

Then he removes your hand from his face, clicks your seatbelt into place, and promptly shuts the car door.

Oh.

You can feel tears begin to prick at the back of your eyelids, and you rapidly blink to try and keep them away. You keep your face turned from him, even as he gets in and starts the car, even when he asks you if the temperature is okay and you just hum in response.

Your brain can’t form thoughts of anything but rejection as he drives you the rest of the way home in silence. You’re drunk, and you’re embarrassed, and honestly? By the time he pulls up into your visitor parking spot, you’re a little bit angry, too.

You were trying to mend things, to kiss and make up or whatever it is they say, and he had rejected you. You can’t help the few hot, frustrated tears that slip down your cheek.

You’d met Seungkwan the year before. You’d finally worked up the nerve to join your university’s badminton team, and he’d been the first one to pull you in for a rally with his teammate. He’d helped you meet your future partner that day, too. You hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but you’d been pretty smitten with him from the start.

And it had only gotten worse from there.

You saw Seungkwan at practice once a week at first, which quickly turned into twice a week when the two of you would practice after hours. Soon enough, you were hanging out on weekends, too, and then hanging out with each other’s friends. You’d been able to push your little crush down for the most part, not wanting to even go down that road when he was one of the best friends you’d made in a while.

Then you’d been selected for the MVP tournament at the end of the semester, and you still remember the moment it had all hit you like a fucking train.

You knew Seungkwan had an exam the day of your final game, and even though he said he’d make it, you hadn’t expected him to actually run across campus to get to you in time. And when you’d heard your name and found him in the crowd, sweaty from the exertion of his jog, you’d been so happy you could have cried.

When your partner had scored the winning shot, it took mere seconds for Seungkwan to find you on the court. You were swept up into a hug that had the air whooshing from your lungs. When he’d pulled away, he’d been grinning from ear to ear, swaying you from side to side playfully by your shoulders.

You’d known it then — that you loved him.

He was always cheering you on. In badminton, in your academic life, when you tried to keep up with him at karaoke — he was your biggest fan, period. He believed in you, and that meant everything.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan’s eyebrows had furrowed, his smile falling as he gave you a concerned once over. “Did you get hurt?”

You shook your head, trying desperately to form words that made any bit of sense so you could get away from him for a minute and just breathe. “Just exhausted,” you managed, and to your relief, all he did was nod in understanding.

“Go shower, get changed and then go home and sleep,” he’d instructed. Usually, his mother bear instincts would have made you smile, but you couldn’t force it then. He had let you go with one more squeeze to your biceps, a hand lifting in a wave as he backed up, before turning around and jogging back over to the rest of his friends. You had been completely frozen in place as you’d watched him go, unable to move until one of your teammates called your name.

You hate that Seungkwan knows the code for your door.

You hate that he treats your apartment like it’s his, that he knows where everything is, that even though he’s obviously still upset with you — and even though you’re upset with him — he still helps guide you to your bathroom to wash up, still leaves pajamas for you outside your bathroom door.

You hate that he takes care of you, because you want it to mean what it so obviously doesn’t.

He’s sitting at your desk when you finally climb into bed, avoiding all eye contact as you pull up the covers. You can feel Seungkwan hesitate before he speaks.

“Do you need anything else?”

You hold back a sigh. “No.”

“You sure?”

“I said no.”

Your eyes meet his pointedly. Seungkwan’s eyebrows raise, and you raise yours right back. It’s him that lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he stands up.

“Okay.” He takes a step toward your door before he pauses, and his eyes meet yours again as he adds, quieter, “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Whatever.” Your voice is small, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath.

“Y/N.”

You don’t respond, rolling onto your side and away from him. It's quiet for a second, and you wait with bated breath for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just turns the light off, and closes the door.

After your terrible realization at the championship game, you’d completely avoided Seungkwan — plain and simple. There’s no way of getting around that truth. You’d been scared and embarrassed, and you’d known that even just one look at him would have ruined you. You wish you could say you were brave, but you’re a coward — you know you are.

And so all of his calls and texts had gone unanswered — for an entire week.

When you wake up, you don't feel great, but you don’t feel as bad as you’d expected. Your head is pounding, though, so you force yourself up and to the bathroom for some Advil. You stop short when you see a pair of legs hanging over the arm of the couch, and your heart drops.

He’d stayed?

You can tell Seungkwan has been awake for some time as he scrolls on his phone. The blanket he must have used is already folded up neatly beside the couch, and his face lacks the usual sleepiness it wears when he’s just woken up. He doesn’t hear you come in until you speak.

“You’re here?”

Seungkwan looks at you in surprise before he sits up, his phone falling to his lap. He pauses before he says, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, gnawing on your bottom lip. All you can think about is the fact that your head is pounding, and you desperately need some more water. “If I were you, I would have gone home.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not you — I, personally, prefer to talk things out instead of avoiding the problem.”

It takes your hungover brain a moment to process. Then you wince at his pointed words, your stomach turning for more reasons than one, but you don’t retaliate. He isn’t looking at you when he says them. You are suddenly so nervous, your voice shaky as you speak, but you know this can’t be avoided. You hate this, but you know that it’s your own damn fault.

“I’m sorry.” The words feel heavy as you say them, and you can hardly breathe. You know where this conversation has to go, and you’re desperately not ready for it.

You’re not ready to lose him.

He crosses his arms. “For what?”

You think you might burst into tears. “For last night.”

“What part of last night?”

Your breath catches. Is he really going to make you say it? You steady yourself as you say softly, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

For someone who usually wears his heart on his sleeve, Seungkwan is suddenly very hard to read. “Okay,” is all he says, and your heart sinks. “What about the fact that you ignored me for a week?”

“I don’t know, Seungkwan.”

You watch as his eyebrows shoot up. “You have nothing to say after a week of ignoring me? God, I should be so pissed at you right now.”

You wince. He’s right and you know it. For some reason, though, he’s not mad. He looks dejected, tired, unhappy — but he’s not angry. You wonder why not. Your voice is small when you respond.

“You’re right.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “So that’s it? I don’t get an explanation? You’re admitting to ignoring me on purpose for a week, and I’m supposed to be okay with that without even knowing why? You haven’t responded to any of my texts… and after all of that, you call me to pick you up because you’re drunk and need a ride?”

“I didn’t even think you’d pick up,” you say softly, honestly.

“That’s what you got from what I said?” His voice is incredulous, and you don’t blame him. “Of course I picked up. It’s you,” Seungkwan says with a scoff, and your heart lurches in your chest. He pauses, taking in a deep breath. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

Your voice is soft as you say, “You know I would.”

“Do I know that? I also didn’t think you’d ghost me for a week, but I was wrong about that.”

“Seungkwan—”

“Wouldn’t you care if I stopped talking to you for a week with no explanation?” His voice gets softer as he speaks, suddenly unsure, and you hate yourself a little for being the cause of it.

“That would break my heart,” you admit, and you watch as Seungkwan crosses his arms pointedly.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you say after a pause, and you are heartbreakingly aware of how inadequate it sounds.

He closes his eyes, inhales a sharp breath, and then he says, “Okay.”

You look at him in surprise. “Okay?”

He runs a hand through his hair, shoulders lifting into a defeated shrug. “What else am I supposed to say? You won’t talk to me or tell me what I did wrong. I literally can’t do anything else.”

You feel your heart break just a little bit more. He’s past the point of frustration, past the point of trying — and you think that’s the worst thing that could have happened. Now, he just looks sad, and it’s your fault. You watch as he stands up and takes a few steps towards the door, and you can feel the panic rise in your throat.

“Seungkwan?”

You stand up too, your fingers grasping at his sleeve to stop him. He turns back to you in surprise, and you try to steady your heart, your breathing, your nerves. He waits, eyebrows furrowed, gaze not leaving yours as he searches for an answer.

“Please stay,” is all you can manage. “I’ll tell you. I’ll explain everything. Just… just give me a minute, and — just please don’t leave.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then he nods. He finds his spot on the couch again, arms crossed over his chest, and you join him. You squeeze your eyes shut. You take a deep breath before reopening them, staring at your hands, and then you say it.

“I like you.”

You can see Seungkwan straighten out of the corner of your eye. You don’t stop, you don’t let up, because if you don’t say it now, you never will.

“I really like you, Seungkwan, way more than friends,” you continue softly. “And I’m sorry for avoiding you, but it wasn’t as if I could just tell you why.” Your voice grows even quieter. “You’re my best friend. I can’t lie to you… but I didn’t want you to know. You’re just so — you’re amazing, Seungkwan. I like you so much, and it was starting to become really overwhelming. You have to understand that I just — I just needed to breathe for a little bit.” You swallow, hard, before you add quietly, “When I saw you last night, when you came to get me, I just… I missed you, and I guess drunk me wanted to kiss you, so she did.”

Your confession hangs in the air between you, and you want nothing more than to sink into the couch cushions beneath you.

Then he says quietly, “And what about sober you?” and you suddenly can’t breathe.

“What?”

“Does sober you want to kiss me, too?”

“Seungkwan.” Your voice breaks, a quiet, desperate plea for him not to push any further. You squeeze your eyes shut, and your chest is tight as you nearly beg, “Can we please just —“

“Y/N. I like you too.”

Your eyes fly open. You stare at each other for a moment — a pair of blushing idiots.

“I really didn’t think I stood a chance,” he admits after what feels like the longest moment in existence. It’s so soft, so Seungkwan — your Seungkwan, the one only you and a select few get to see, the one who’s a little insecure and uncertain and real — that it makes your breath catch. “When you kissed me, I…”

“Kwan,” comes your whisper, and you think you can see the makings of a shy smile on his lips at the nickname.

“I’m freaking out right now,” he admits, cheeks flushing pink, and all you can do is stare at him.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously?” He lets out an awkward laugh at that, and it’s your turn to blush.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I’m just — holy shit. You know?”

Seungkwan laughs again. “Trust me — I know.” He shoots you a soft smile before he repeats, “Holy shit.”

It’s silent for a moment as your giggles subside, and you feel so shy that it almost makes you laugh again. You have to look away from him to breathe a little, but you can feel him shift closer, your knees brushing.

“Come here?” It’s a quiet request, as if there’s any way you’d deny it. You turn back to face him, cheeks flushed, and he smiles.

The way he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger makes you smile, too — and the kiss he presses against your mouth soon after has you downright giddy. It’s long and slow, so soft it makes you ache, but it still takes the breath from your lungs.

“More of that, please,” you say when he pulls back. You’re breathless, and Seungkwan’s ensuing laugh is so bright that you feel like you’re being held by the sun.

“I think I can make that happen.”

A/N: Listen. I know I can’t just write for Seungkwan. Don’t look at me. ANYWAY! thank you for reading!!! If you read it REBLOG IT, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise

TAGLIST: @tae-bebe @seungkw1 @wheeboo @waldau @gyuminusone @darkypooo @wqnwoos @minisugakoobies @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lvlystars @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf @kyeomkyeomi @bewoyewo

#bsk x reader #Seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader #SVT X reader #svt imagine #Seungkwan fluff #seungkwan imagine #bsk imagine #Seventeen fluff #my writing #bskfic #Thirteenvalentines

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mlmxreader · 2 days

Text

What Remains | Cooper Howard x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ '' How I end up here''

And

"I wanna know who I'm looking at"

With ghoul please

( I didn’t watch the show but this character I.... What I'm thinking is bad...) ❞

: ̗̀➛ Cooper Howard is long dead, but maybe a part of him still lives in The Ghoul. Even if it's only a little bit.

trigger warnings : ̗̀➛ swearing, mentions of violence, jealousy, sex references, violence references

╰┈➤ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Cooper was too busy with searching the chem box to even think about looking up; with you standing guard so diligently and with great loyalty, he didn't know of any reason why he should have.

After all, you had been travelling together since you saved him from a group of super mutants, and although it was not easy, you had gained each other's trust, confidence and now it felt odd if you weren't together - you were a team, now, after spending so long together.

Of course, you still had disagreements, though, like when you wanted to help your old friend Valentine and Cooper it a bullshit distraction.

"Thou shalt not get side tracked by bullshit every time," he had grumbled, even whilst aiding you in helping Valentine.

It still made you laugh when you thought about it. He never wanted to play the good guy and was really only ever out for himself unless there were enough caps in the question; but you could see it, the layer of decency hidden under all that lone wanderer bullshit.

The humanity that he so desperately tried to snuff out. Trying to run so far from what he used to be but still clinging onto gope that somewhere in all the shit, there was something - someone - to bring him back. To pull Cooper Howard back into the light at last.

You cleared your throat, drawing his attention at last.

"It's gettin' dark, Coop," you told him. "We ought to find shelter for the night, then keep going."

Cooper grumbled even though he knew that you were right; being so close to the edge of the Glowing Sea was more dangerous at night than any other time.

Ravenous deathclaws stalked the land searching for anything they could devour. Glowing ghouls with rotted brains and empty dyes were just waiting at the chance to consume any sort of meat. There was always something in the shadows.

But Cooper still slammed the chem box shut and he still stood up and gestured for you to follow him back to the ruined house not far down the road.

It had only one bed, but it still had a roof, and that was better than nothing.

At least you weren't on that fucking foggy island again with all those gulpers and anglers and crabs. so there was that.

"You take the bed," Cooper told you with a huff. "I'll just sleep on the chair."

You shook your head. "Why don't we just share? It's plenty big enough and it wouldn't be the first time."

Cooper huffed as he took his hat and coat off, putting them on the chair before sitting at the edge of the bed; he watched you with great curiosity, taking notes of every movement as if he was studying you and trying to learn your behaviour.

You didn't think much of it - he had been doing it for a while now.

Well, ever since you met up with that Ghoul Mayor who had endlessly flirted with you; you knew Cooper didn't like the fact that you flirted back, but you assumed it was only because he didn't want you to be distracted by the oh so handsome ghoul.

"Hey," you cleared your throat as you looked at him, the buttons of your shirt undone to expose only the slightest glimpse of your chest. "We're okay, right?"

Cooper glared up at you, then nodded slowly. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"You've been different since Goodneighbor," you said with a shrug. "Ever since that Mayor invited me to stay the night, you've been weird."

"Thou shalt not-"

"Get side tracked by bullshit every time, I know, I know, but it ain't that and you know it," you told him, folding your arms across your chest. "It's like you had an issue with him wanting to get in my trousers."

He glared at you for a moment, then shook his head with a scowl. "How'd I end up here? Bein' fuckin' questioned about why I cockblocked that Mayor you fuckin' couldn't wait to jump on."

"Hust tell me why, Coop," you sighed.

"He weren't right for you," he told you with a sneer. "He didn't know what it's like out there for people like us. He spent all his fuckin' time in an office doin' chems - he don't know. Someone like that can't be right for someone like you."

"And you think you would be?" You asked with a raised brow. "Then why the fuck didn't you just tell me? Why the fuck did you have to go all stupid and weird?"

Cooper grumbled. "Shut up about it, would ya? It don't matter - I ain't... I ain't who I was and I ain't never gonna go back to it. So shut up, lie down and fuckin' sleep. We'll head out first thing. Second dawn comes up."

"Or what?" You challenged.

"Or I'll take you back to Goodneighbor," he all but growled out. "And you can stay there with your pretty boy Mayor."

"You wouldn't," you shook your head, narrowing your gaze at him. "I'm not an asset to you, Coop, and you care about me - whether you admit it or not. You care, you just won't let me in... but you want to... so tell me, because I wanna know who I'm looking at: The Ghoul, or Cooper?"

His expression softened as he looked down at the ground to hide his weakness, groaning and sighing heavily. "My name was- is Cooper Howard. I'm a bounty hunter, and I hated the way that Mayor looked at you, spoke to you... but I can't be what you want, and we both know that."

You came to sit beside him, your hand landing on his thigh. "So you can't be yourself? Because that's what I'd want. I'd want the snarky, violent, asshole who shoots first and asks questions later."

Cooper didn't say anything, just put his hand on yours and nodded slowly; he couldn't bring himself to say it, in all honesty. He tried to long to snuff out his humanity that it felt wrong to even try to engage with it again; Cooper Howard was dead, and he knew that.

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare, please consider donating to help Mahmoud rebuild his life.

81 notes · View notes

pochicore · 2 days

Text

♡ i love you cake!

» han jisung x gn!reader blurb.

wc: 662 genre: fluff

a/n: based on that little incorrect quote that's like person a gives person b a cake that says "i love you!" and person b responds with "i love you too cake!" // also a part of my skz, i love u! blurb series

“So I was trying to share my feelings with Y/N the other day,” Jisung begins. He can hardly believe he’s telling his friends this, but he has no one else to turn to. Hopefully they’re actually listening to him this time and not paying all their attention to the Mario Kart game in front of them. “I got them a cake and everything, right? So the cake says 'I love you' on it and it’s decorated with tiny spirnkles and all that good stuff.”

“Aww, that’s super cute, Ji,” felix says. he would give Jisung a thumbs up, but he’s too busy trying to keep his first place position. “That’s so romantic. What did they say?”

“So they smiled at me, with heart eyes as per usual, then the cake. And then they said 'aww, I love you too, cake!' and then they took pictures of it and then they ate the cake with me. Then they posted the cake on instagram,” Jisung finishes. He frowns at the thought of you telling the cake you love it and not him.

"Oh, is that the post they made yesterday? With the caption 'When your cake loves you!'” Hyunjin asks. He tries to stifle a laugh, but it still comes out. “Dude, I hate to say this, but you know how dense Y/N is.”

Jisung throws himself back onto the couch, taking a throw pillow and pressing his face into it in the process. “I'm so sad. They didn’t say it back,” he whines.

Felix pauses the game, reaching back to rub jisung’s belly. “It’s okay, Ji. They’ll say it back eventually.”

“I hope so.”

—

“I got you something!” you grin as you make your way into the dorm. Noticing Felix and Hyunjin about to leave upon your arrival, you attempt to motion for them to stay. “Stay! I’m sure you guys will like this as well.”

They’re quick to take notice of the take out box you’re holding and they decide it’s maybe a better idea to stay and see what’ll happen. They’re totally not trying to score some free food.

You set the box down on the kitchen table, then open your arms excitedly as Jisung throws himself into your arms. “I got you cake!” you exclaim.

“What’s the occasion, baby?” Jisung asks, confused. There’s really nothing to celebrate right now, besides your love for cake.

“You’ll just have to see!” you grin at him, beginning to open the box carefully. You take the cake out and the 3 boys marvel at the sight.

The cake is about 10 inches in diameter, covered in yellow icing and cherries. It says 'I love you too!' on top in fancy cursive red frosting. Jisung thinks it looks way better than the grocery store cake he decorated for you.

“Isn’t that cute? The 'cake' loves you too!” you giggle at Jisung. He can feel his ears begin to burn as realization sinks in. Jisung was the cake before. You are the cake now. Jisung purses his lips in thought as he debates whether he should say something or not.

However, Hyunjin beats him to it, muttering, “Gee, wonder what that means, Jisung? Felix, take pictures of the cake so we can post about how sad and pathetic we are as single guys on Instagram.”

Felix and Hyunjin leave you and Jisung in the kitchen and he clears his throat awkwardly, “I thought I would be waiting a while before you said it back. I was kinda scared, to be honest. Like what if you didn't— I’m kinda stupid.”

You make your way to him and wrap your arms around him tightly. After a while, you reach up for his face and squish his cheeks between your palms. You smile at his pouted lips before you lean in for a kiss. “You know I love you! I love you so much! Also you’re not stupid, silly, you’re just as dense as I am!”

“That’s even worse!”

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venmondiese · 2 days

Text

THE KINSLAYER

based on nightwish's kinslayer aka aemond's theme ✧ gifs: /feodor-dostoevsky // jeonwonwoo

AEMOND COULD HEAR THE LOUD NOISES FROM THE BROTHEL. He could smell the filthiness from it. He could feel it deep in his bones. He could sense it in the depts of his soul.

Aegon was much more careless than he was. As if he knew that he was doomed, destined to the seven hells, he left himself enjoy the pleasures of terrenal life, hedonistic natures for a doomed man.

Aemond wanted to be correct. When he was a kid, he dreamed of great things. Second sons often got nothing. And he wanted to be someone.

His own grandsire, Baelon, could have been someone. He was to be King, if the stranger didn't take him to soon. He would have been King. A second son.

Jaehaerys was a second son. Maegor was a second son. Even Aegon the First was second to his sister Visenya. Yet it was destined for him to be the ruler.

He thought of himself as worthy. He really did. Aemond Targaryen, rider of Vhagar. It was not something to be taken lightly. Vhagar, ridden by Visenya, Baelon, Laena. All of them were second best too.

It wasn't killing Lucerys what bugged him. He could not care less for the bastard boy. It wasn't making Rhaenyra suffer, though it wasn't how he planned it. She wanted him tortured, she wanted him to be sharply questioned when he just lost an eye. She ran away, with her impecable kin, secured on Dragonstone.

He made a mistake. He felt the power of what the Velaryons boys did when they bullied him. He was worthy. He was a Targaryen. And Vhagar was backing him up.

But sometimes, he didn't think losing an eye was worthy. Hidding it to not scare ladies at court. Cut the eyelids open so he could incrist a sapphire, like Symeon Star-Eyes. He learned how to chop men with a long staff with blades at both ends, just like the legendary hero did.

He wondered if he just wanted to feel something. If he just wanted to feel as someone special, worthy again. If he did, maybe they would admire him, or even care for him. Did they not?

Aegon had his own mess. Helaena had her own mess. Daeron wasn't even near King's Landing. His mother was busy ruling as his father was busier rotting.

"It's okay, my prince." The female voice says, in an attempt of soothing him as her hand caressed his forearm, and he sighed, his head on her lap as he looked into the room.

Brothels, even dirtiest, could have bedroom for the highlors attending. Aemond's naked chest was warm due to the fire, but not thanks to the physical intimacy.

It was a vain attempt of comfort. Aegon had invited him, to cheer him up and to celebrate his new title as King.

'Celebrate what?' He thought. 'I just started a war'

It haunts his dreams. The knowledge of what he did. The burden, the burning.

Kinslayer.

He found himself doomed. Haunted by a hateful nature inside him. It stirred, it boiled deep on his soul. Kinslayer.

A war between kin. The first drops of blood om his hands, tainting his very soul.

It felt good, at the beginning. He tried to rationalize it. A mistake. Vhagar lost control.

Because she did.

Right?

She had to. Because he didn't. It was... teasing. The power of being on Vhagar was just his arrongace, his vanity acting. Not him. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him.

He couldn't even look at his mother on the eyes. He could less look Helaena, hearing her horrified little scream as she found out.

His eye hurt. The emptiness of it, the wound that never fully healed. He couldn't even cry properly, not even for makind or his own doom.

'You lost one eye. How could you be so blind?' His grandsire said.

A need to understand. But there wasn't a need to forgive. He won't do that, for he has no reason. His mother called the war a curse from Gods themselves. She prayed, and prayed. But there wasn't any sense or truth to be followed. He even started to doubt if this was about ruling the realm.

"Do I have to pay you?" He asks, slightly unsure. Vulnerable, even. He hated it.

He was not used to this. Using a whore for comfort. Aegon laughed when he excused himself, asking for a whore, and he even congratulated him, a loud cheer all over the table.

Now he laid naked, curled up as his head rested on her lap. Warmth. Cosiness.

"No, my prince. The King has it covered"

The King. It was Aegon. The same Aegon who bullied him, and used to mock him. His big brother. Now, he was the King. It was his biggest fear, and another curse.

Was this a curse for his own ambitions? For wanting what wad the destiny of his elders? For preparing to rule even if he wasn't even acknowledged in his father's mind?

He sighed. His hair loose, the eyepatch lost somewhere on the room. He felt the touch over his cheebone, going up to move his hair to his back, her hands caressing his hair and head, in a soothing manner as she didn't speak more. He prefered silence after his vulnerable moment.

Being with a whore felt like meeting an old friend. It scared him, it bugged him in the wrong way. But who else can he turn to? The Gods have abandoned him to his luck, and with good reason.

He would prefer having a wife do it. He wondered that if he had one, she would be gentler than this, cozier than this.

He craved the love. He never tried to actively persuing a lady at court, so he had no wife. He couldn't go back to Floris Baratheon, he knew he cannot. Not as a Kinslayer.

He liked to picture his wife as beautiful lady. He does not imagine especifics, he is not demanding on that sense. He imagines her beautiful as the maiden herself, gentle and caring. Not judging him, even if his new curse made him a monster. If he had offsprings, would they love him? Afraid of his lost eye?

He realised that he has to thank the Gods. For not having a wife, or offsprings to pass the curse on. To share the madness with them.

Praying was in vain, for who would hear him? A slayer of his own kin. The blood of his sister was on his hands. Of her little son, that he murdered.

He had prayed to the Father. For him to save a place for Aemond. There are no gods. Not by your side.

He soon realised, he was as well doomed. Second son, kinslayer, murdered of his own nephew, on the skies mounting their dragons. Just as Maegor The Cruel did.

He won't become an acknowledged second son. He won't be worthy, he won't be remember greatly. He won't be a hero, unless he dies greatly. And he knows it. He lusts for this game, and he falls for every lie of it.

He looked at the flames, as if they could answer something to him. As if they could show him what was ahead of him. How he has to act. How he'll die.

A war was yet to come, and he knows he'll fight it. For he has nothing else to lose. He curses the Gods. How was he supposed to know?

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